#It's funny how these two seem to be at odds and yet fundamentally get along. ❤️

[tablefourtyone]

Here's an interesting FuKi detail regarding names.

In the JP dub, Kiana always addresses Fu Hua respectfully as "委員長" (iinchou), "班長" (bānzhǎng) in the CN dub. Means "class president/prefect".

I've only gotten as far as the Xuanyuan arc after getting through the main storyline, so I can only remember Kiana addressing Fu Hua by her name instead of "class president" while she was going through Senti's memories on her way to becoming Finality, and that was just to emphasize Senti's life and existence being separate from the person named Fu Hua whose identity Senti borrowed for a while.

But in the Xuanyuan arc spec. in the above picture, while praising Fu Hua, Kiana distinctly uses the usual "class president" title, before backpedaling and actually addressing her directly by her name FU HUA instead of "class president".

WITHOUT HONORIFICS!

[laughing-with-god]

In the alternate Victor QQ timeline, what are the Bts Victor's opinions of the other? Have they also ever met Victor Y/N in that timeline as well before the game?

Jin:

Jin doesn’t really like Namjoon.  He found his traps and schemes a bit pretentious and sometimes makes digs during mentor interviews that Namjoon didn’t really deserve to win his games.  People suspect that he’s just upset because he was the mentor of the kids from One during Namjoon’s game and was personally offended that someone outside the career alliance won, and even outsmarted them.  

Jin doesn’t have much of an opinion of Yoongi.  He is kind of impressed that Yoongi managed to win at fourteen but doesn’t fully get the hype over a victor who just hid during most of his games.  He also doesn’t understand why Yoongi keeps snapping during interviews and finds it pathetic, he always wonders why the Capitol hasn’t killed him off yet.  He knows if he had an episode like that, he’d be six feet under.  

Jin felt bad for Hoseok, but doesn’t quite forgive his stupidity.  In Jin’s opinion, Hoseok should’ve known that the girl from 10 wasn’t going to live and he shouldn’t have tried allying with her.  He should’ve saved himself the trouble. 

Jin doesn’t mind Taehying.  He often forget he exists and sometimes does a double take when all the mentors get together like “oh yeah, you’re a victor, forgot about that.”  Taehyung is silent and never approaches any of the mentors that aren’t from District 11, so Jin doesn’t know much about him.  He watched a few scenes from his games and had to admit that for a kid from 11, Taehyung did pretty well. 

Out of all of them, Jin likes Jimin the most.  They both are noted for their good looks and charming personality, were both careers who backstabbed their allies, and are frequently at the Capitol with female sponsors by their side.  A natural friendship sparked between the two and when they are mentoring at the same time, they both push their tributes to form an alliance.  

Namjoon

Namjoon acts cordial with all victors but finds it ironic that he isn’t liked by Jin when he secretly hates the guy just as much.  Namjoon finds him very loud-mouthed and hungry for screen time.  Furthermore, Namjoon doesn’t respect the manner in which he won his games.  Sure, Namjoon knowingly lured tributes into his traps but he never went so far as to promise them his loyalty or protection.  

Yoongi and Namjoon actually got along for a while.  Namjoon was one of the few victors that Yoongi didn’t snap at and would actually have a civil conversation with.  When at the Capitol and mentoring, they both could be seen getting drinks together and having late night conversations.  But this stopped when Yoongi found out that Namjoon was going to go so far as help gamemakers design arenas for future games.  

Namjoon likes Hoseok and Taehyung well enough, he has respect for their game plays but doesn’t go out of his way to talk to them unless a tribute from 3 becomes allies with someone from 11 or 8.  They are quiet and don’t frequent the Capitol often so he doesn’t really get a chance to have a relationship with either of them.  He does get a sense that Hoseok and Taehyung rather work with him than any of the career mentors though.

Jimin....he’s an enigma to Namjoon.  A puzzle that Namjoon can’t quite figure out.  He’s tried multiple time to find out why Jimin volunteered and why there’s such odd rumors about him floating around the Capitol, but Jimin never answers directly and avoids Namjoon at all costs.  Namjoon thinks it’s because Jimin knows he will find out something eventually.  

Yoongi

To no one’s surprise, Yoongi despises Jin.  However, he is quiet about this one-sided hatred and doesn’t say anything when they cross paths.  Somewhere deep inside, Yoongi is self-aware that it’s not really Jin he hates, but what he represents.  Jin was a tribute turned celebrity and thus, in Yoongi’s eyes, a brain-washed Capitol slave.  There’s a fundamental difference between them.  While Yoongi runs away from the spotlight and regrets what he did to earn it, Jin seems to relish in it.  

Yoongi used to like Namjoon.  He appreciated his smarts and title of an underdog, and Namjoon had a calming effect of Yoongi.  But when Yoongi discovered that he was going to be helping Gamemakers with Arenas, Yoongi cut the friendship off.  He would never be friends with someone who lowered themselves to the level of helping them.  

Out of all the Victors, Yoongi gets along most with Hoseok and Taehyung.  Taehyung a bit more than Hoseok, because at least Taehyung doesn’t have a habit of overstepping his boundaries and telling Yoongi he should lay off the morphling.  But the two are quiet enough and seem to share the same sadness every year when the Games start up again, something Yoongi can relate to.  

Yoongi has heard things about Jimin and doesn’t like the bastard.  Yoongi has gone on a drunken rampage on the former career before, and Peacekeepers had to get involved.  Whenever they’re in the same room, he has a habit of muttering insults under his breath like ‘sell out’ or ‘whore’.  

Hoseok

Hoseok knows he shouldn’t judge people for what they did in the games, that the need to survive is overwhelming, that all tributes have their hands tied and are willing to do anything to make it back home.  But Hoseok still can’t understand why Jin did some of the things he did back in his games.  After watching Jin burn his allies alive, Hoseok almost threw up in sheer disgust.  Hoseok places a lot of importance on allies and can’t understand how someone could kill theirs so brutally and unnecessarily.  Hoseok has never said a word to Jin and intends to keep it that way.  

Namjoon is someone Hoseok has heard of before but never really met.  When the games start back up and mentors start scrambling to make alliances, everyone rushes to Namjoon.  He never has really gotten the chance to have a real conversation with him but his reputation proceeds him.  

Yoongi is a fine man under all his trauma, but all attempts Hoseok has made to get him to stop drinking/taking drugs during mentoring has fallen on deaf ears.  He routinely feels bad for the tributes from Six because he knows that Yoongi is no help to them when it comes to earning sponsors or getting allies. Yoongi is too lost in himself and refuses to “kiss ass” to see the situation at hand.  

Taehyung is boderline mute but Hoseok doesn’t mind his presence.  He and Taehyung both relate to using their Victor winnings to help people in their District and both can hardly stomach the games that play every year.  They are decent friends but it’s more out of relatability and tolerance than actual compatibility for Hoseok.  The other victors are too crazy for them, so they often feel like the only sane ones.  

Hoseok has heard things about Jimin, much like everyone else, but was determined to not let rumors get in the way of a potential friendship.  but when Hoseok introduced himself to Jimin, Jimin scoffed at his humble attire and made a comment about his fashion.  Hoseok wasn’t too keen on that and now agrees that Jimin might be the bimbo everyone else says he is.  

Taehyung

Taehyung has only had one interaction with Jin and it left a bad taste in his mouth.  It happened when both were mentoring and the girls from Eleven and One formed an alliance later in the game.  Jin approached him and told him that he hoped there would be no hard feelings when his tribute would without a doubt slit Taehyung’s tribute’s throat while they slept.  Taehyung avoids being in the same room as him now.

Taehyung likes Namjoon, but like Yoongi, he can’t understand why he is helping the Gamemakers now.  In his opinion, Namjoon might as well be a gamemaker if it continues and Taehyung can’t say he respects that all too much.  

Hoseok is the closest thing Taehyung has to a friend.  He understands that he’s not that conversational or even emotional but wherever Hoseok goes, Taehyung follows.  Besides, when they both are alone Hoseok talks enough for the both of them.  He despises going to the Capitol every year but finds the silver lining in the reminder that he can see Hoseok again.  

Yoongi is alright and Taehyung understands his pain even though he can’t really relate to the method Yoongi goes about solving that pain.  Secretly though, he finds his tantrums on TV rather funny and relishes in the shocked looks on the Capitol peoples’ faces.  

Taehyung didn’t have an opinion on Jimin.  But after Hoseok’s run-in with him he now dislikes the former career and can be seen glaring at him whenever they’re in the same room.  Although it’s rare anyone from 11 gets asked into a career alliance, Taehyung always warns his tributes about 4, stating that they’re back-stabbing eye candy.

Jimin

There was a Capitol lady who had employed the services of both Jin and Jimin, and that’s how they met.  They got to talking and realized they have a lot on common.  Both were Capitol favorites, both were former careers who turned on the pack and killed them, both are attractive and enjoy the spotlight of the Capitol.  Jimin likes Jin a lot and he sticks to his side whenever they both mentor.  In his mind, they have to stick together because most of the other victors like to blame the career mentors for every tribute death in the games.  Only Jin understands what it’s like.  

Namjoon creeps Jimin out.  He’s too smart for his own good and Jimin doesn’t trust someone from the Districts who managed to work his way into the gamemaker table.  He steers clear of him.  

Yoongi is a disgrace in Jimin’s eyes.  What happened, happened.  What is the use of flipping out every time there’s a camera in the room?  Might as well enjoy the Victor’s winnings while you can, right?  And if he really hated the games so much, why doesn’t he bother trying harder to mentor his tributes?  Shameful, really.  

Jimin didn’t even know who Hoseok was until he came up to him at the victor lounge and introduced himself as the mentor for District Eight.  All Jimin knew about District Eight was that they were in charge of textiles and clothing, and without thinking he made a comment while looking him up and down, “Isn’t Eight supposed to be really good with fashion?” Hoseok excused himself after that but Jimin secretly felt bad about it, since he was pretty drunk that night.  He’s tried to approach him again but the tall bastard from 11 is always glaring at him to stay put.  

Taehyung doesn’t like Jimin, and that’s enough for Jimin to not like him in return.  Even on the rare occasions when Jimin’s tributes ask him to approach 11, he refuses because it would mean talking to Taehyung.  He’s secretly very intimidated by him. 

[elizadoolittlethings]

Graves is a prime example of the coda “action is character.”

Rupert Graves as Harold Guppy in Philip Doodhue’s Intimate Relations. Photo by Sally Miles. Courtesy of Fox Searchlight Pictures. [x]

Rupert Graves  by

Nicole Burdette

BOMB 61Fall 1997

full interview

[MORE]

Whether he’s sucking on hard candy, contemplating suicide, or limping slightly in boots two sizes too big, Rupert Graves is ever graceful. At once a mixture of the violent and the poetic, Graves’ film characters are compared to the kings of the tortured handsome, Montgomery Clift and John Keats. It’s an odd and wonderful thing to spend the afternoon with a stranger speaking of the near obscurity and perfection of Robert Donat, Che Guevara’s hands, and what exactly it is to be brave.

Graves is a prime example of the coda “action is character.” He, like all great actors, is highly physical. We can see his characters—literally we recognize them. In Intimate Relations, Rupert as Harold Guppy clings to Julie Walters, feeding himself sugar cubes like a child. In Mrs. Dalloway, his Septimus Warren Smith stumbles through life; again, literally and emotionally. It is all the way Rupert Graves turns his characters inside out, so what you see is what you get. He manages to become Virginia Woolf’s subconscious—he materializes the description of his character, Septimus: “…with hazel eyes which had that look of apprehension in them which makes complete strangers apprehensive too.” Graves has five films coming out this fall: Mrs. Dalloway with Vanessa Redgrave, Different For Girls, The Revengers’ Comedies with Kristen Scott Thomas and Helena Bonham Carter, Bent, and Intimate Relations with Julie Walters, for which Graves was awarded the Best Actor Award at the 1996 Montreal Film Festival. But that is just this year, his other credits include extensive work on British television and other films: Louis Malle’s Damage, Nick Hytner’s The Madness Of King George; and Merchant Ivory’s Maurice and A Room With A View. In addition to his film work, Graves has consistently worked on the London stage, where he is returning this fall to do Hurly Burly.

Nicole Burdette Now, how did you grow up?

Rupert Graves I grew up in a little English town in a poor-ish family. I went to a comprehensive school which is the same as public school here, I think. My father was a bit posher than my mum, who was a working-class girl from Wales. He’s a pianist.

NB How did they meet?

RG My mum used to sing in amateur shows. They met at a choral society that my dad used to conduct. She saw him, and she can’t have thought, “What a beauty,” so it must have been, “What a genius,” because she loved the music.

NB Were you musical as a kid?

RG No, no. I was brought up quite religiously Catholic and was a choir boy and an acolyte. I used to sing, but it’s a horrible sound.

NB I read that you were in the circus.

RG Yes, I joined when I was 15. I had just left school.

NB How did that idea come to you?

RG It didn’t. It came through the city employment bureau. I knew a girl whose mum used to work there—it was a small town I come from—and she knew I liked acting. And so when the circus came into town and their clown disappeared, I became a trainee. A trainee clown through the job center.

NB Were you a good clown?

RG No, not really.

NB Could you do flips and jump off high things and do daredevil stuff?

RG I didn’t jump. I did slackwire. Do you know slackwire?

NB Tightrope?

RG It’s lower than most tightropes and it’s not tight. It’s very loose, about 15 feet high, and it’s harder to do. It’s like walking across a chain.

NB And you were good at it?

RG I was a clown. I would practice in the ring during the performances, and everyone would laugh because I fell off—but I was actually seriously trying to get across.

NB I ask because I got to see three of your movies in one week, and I noticed that in each one you have a different walk. Your body changed completely. But it wasn’t like method acting where one, say, gains fifty pounds and obviously one’s walk changes. With you it’s subtle. There are an actor’s usual bag of tricks—beards, haircuts, accents… Yet, in all three movies your voice, your haircut are all intact, but you are completely unrecognizable—that’s quite an accomplishment. You don’t rely on the visual—you actually act, imagine that!

RG You do have to understand what your part is, and it’s difficult to intellectualize that. But you can feel it and you know it the moment you see it. It’s accessing some part of your own. I’m completely uneducated, untrained, as an actor, but I do have a fundamental belief that one is capable of pretty much anything. That’s a first principle: One is anything. So I kind of feel that I’ve got George Bush and Che Guevara in me.

NB I’ve been thinking about Che Guevara, just so you know.

RG Are you into The Motorcycle Diaries? They’re great. Guevara went around South America and up to Mexico on this terrible old Enfield motorbike with this other doctor, they were specializing in leprosy. And you know, Castro has Guevara’s hands in his house. They found his body in Bolivia just in the last few months, and it’s gone home to Cuba. But it was handless. The story goes Guevara’s hands were sent to Castro to prove it was him, and Castro kept them. Anyway, that gets back to “One is anything.”

NB So that’s your theory for acting?

RG I think you access different parts of the brain. It’s slightly different for different things. For example, for Intimate Relations I wore shoes that were two sizes too big. I wanted to feel clumsy.

NB I read that in explaining your role (Harold Guppy in Intimate Relations) you said, “I think it’s dangerous as an actor to ever judge a character as stupid.” It seemed to me, watching you in the film, that you played against Harold’s violent tendencies—constantly trying to play down his destiny. You are so powerful at this that even though we can see this story (based on a true murder case) turning dark and darker, we still are hoping that tea and sympathy will win out for Harold—which of course it doesn’t. How did you create such a layered portrait of a possibly less layered person?

RG My starting point with Harold was a lack of will. What happens when your will is taken from you, when you become quite suggestible? It’s not that he’s very innocent. I don’t think he’s an innocent person, but I do think he was institutionalized and his will was taken. He had this blood-sugar problem and when the levels went down he would get violent; but he hadn’t really done anything, it was just a behavioral problem. So I imagine from an early age he didn’t have much love or comfort. Nobody would want to hug a child who would head-butt you. His mum threw him out because she couldn’t cope with it. So he’s been in this kid’s prison—not like a home, a prison for bad children.

NB A reform school.

RG Yeah.

Rupert Graves and Steven Mackintosh in Richard Spence’s Different for Girls. Photos by Luis Lazo. Courtesy of First Look Pictures. image not loading :(

NB What was it like working with Julie Walters in the film?

RG Fan-fucking-tastic. She’s a genius. She’s a very working class girl, and she used to work as a nurse and now owns a hog farm down in the south of England. But anyway, she’s a really lovely lady, deeply, all the way from her toes to her head, and she has a great facility at getting the saucy aspects of people. She’s kind of naughty, so mischievous. At the time of Intimate Relations, I had been doing a lot of work and I was getting a tiny bit cynical as an affectation. I thought the more films you did, the more you had to pretend it was boring. And I kind of started to believe it. But she came along and she was like this gremlin, a little troll living under the bridge. Any cynicism that comes over the bridge, she’ll get it. It’s so infectious. She completely gave me my love for doing stuff back.

NB She gave it back to you?

RG Well, only by example, because she’s no time for any of that cynicism.

NB Would you say she’s your favorite person to work with so far?

RG Yeah. She’s great. She really is, she’s so lovely. That’s my Julie Walters rant.

NB If you were for example—and this is hypothetical, obviously—given you as a character, you the man, not the actor, how would you prepare? What qualities would you consider important to examine under the surface?

RG God knows. I’d look at the environment of myself.

NB Which is?

RG Which is London theatricality. Psychologically I would look into background, and try and determine what he was missing or wasn’t missing.

NB Would you want to play you? Would it be interesting?

RG I don’t know. Everyone is interesting in their own funny way.

NB What I noticed in these three characters, and this really sounds corny, but you seem to love these people. It’s old fashioned, to love your characters; Michael Redgrave, the sort of actors I really love, they loved their characters. Did you ever see The Browning Version?Michael Redgrave plays this really tortured, almost bad person, but you can tell Redgrave loves this man and it is the most bizarre thing to watch because he loves this person who is ruining everything. You also give your characters the benefit of the doubt, and you give them nobility. Is that something that just comes to you?

RG I find it difficult playing a part that I don’t have any empathy with at all.

NB Is there such a part?

RG Well, I played a Nazi in Bent. It was a very, very small part but I researched like fuck, because I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t get my head round what it meant to be a Nazi. Here’s a guy taking Jews and homosexuals in the trains to Dachau, the camps. They were just brutal. How do you get to that place? So I researched, what does Nazism mean to Germany, and what state was Germany in that a leader like that could take them in? Not all Germans were bad, but a collected evil gathered speed. And when I played that character, I realized that for him it was just efficiency, that this was the practical thing to do. And somewhere in my soul I had to find something that could understand that.

NB If you were to play Richard III, which you very well might do in your lifetime, what then? That’s pure evil, from beginning to end. Would that be the ultimate challenge?

RG Certainly, with Richard III, there’s an awful lot more context and more individual motivations and desires. Rather than just here’s a nasty guy who’s killing somebody, whacking them up and beating them. The part’s so damn small in Bent, there’s not much actually in there. Whereas Richard III is very articulate about what he’s doing and why he’s doing it. You’ve got to have a reason to be the character. I like mess. That’s why people become so intellectual, because it’s all a damn mess.

I did a funny thing the other day. I’ve got a friend in England who’s an actor and he bought a new house in the countryside, right on the foot of this steep hill which is made of slate and flint, so the ground is really hard. It’s got this path which is almost vertical coming down and which is covered by trees so there is no moon at night. We went to the top and got absolutely stoned out of our faces—and it’s darn hard getting up there, and if you fall the flints can rip you open—and then he said, “Come on, we’ve got to go back, we’ve got to be really careful.” And I said, “No, let’s just run. Let’s just close our eyes and run down this path as fast as we can. Just trust that we can do it.” He said, “No, no, no,” and I said, “Come on.” We were all right, but it was just this moment of going, “Waaa!” into this sheet, which was quite dangerous. I know it’s quite a mild story really, but I’m not really given to wild things.

NB You’re not?

RG No, normally I’m not. But it’s an interesting thing to me, to just trust it. To just go with the message that if you fall over and you cut your hand you’re not going to die. If you cut your fucking hand, so what? Be brave. It’s like in Mrs. Dalloway — the young clerk who says, “Take the plunge.”

NB Are you brave?

RG I can be, and I can be hugely cowardly. But if I’m deeply pissed off or deeply offended I can be brave.

NB Sometimes it’s the opposite with people. When they’re relaxed they can be brave, and when they’re upset that’s when they find that they’re cowardly.

RG That’s true of me too. Maybe I was being disingenuous there.

NB No, I think you’re better off if you’re brave when you’re angry.

RG Yeah, but now I don’t know if that’s true.

NB It’s complex. But you have some braveness in you.

RG Yeah, some. I break things. I’m a good breaker of things.

NB Do you feel better?

RG No, because I only break my things, which pisses me off. Sometimes, I think I do it because I get tongue tied. When I was a kid I used to have a bad stammer, it’s probably one of the reasons I went into acting, because I had to go to elocution lessons to get over going, “Uh-uh-uh.”

NB And that’s how you got into acting?

RG Do you know an actor called Robert Donat?

NB Oh my God! One of my favorites.

RG What strikes me about him is a kind of grace.

NB The Winslow Boy.

RG Isn’t that the most beautiful portrayal of any character ever?

NB That’s what I was trying to explain to you about the love of the character, and that is the most beautiful…

RG His mood is so moving. You can watch him doing Goodbye, Mr. Chips, The Thirty-Nine Steps… He has such deep grace. Even The Winslow Boy, that is such a hard part. But there’s this absolute nobility, and it’s not to do with class, but with human nobility.

NB It’s so funny that you bring up that actor. As I was watching your movies I was thinking: Robert Donat. That’s my favorite era of films, English films of the ’30s and ’40s, and you hearken back to that.

RG He was my hero. I’ve always thought, if I could tune into that, if I could take whatever that man was taking, I’d be a happy boy.

NB But that’s a different legacy. It’s just a different kind of acting.

RG Yeah, it is. I did a very bad film called Damage, which Louis Malle directed. And Louis Malle, who was a lovely man and has made some great films, was always going on about grace. You know, (imitating a French accent) “Rupert, there is something of a big grace in you, something that is very beautiful.” But at other times he’d say, “You can’t do acting, forget it!” I looked at his old films and you can see that sensibility, that grace, in some of his really early films.

NB Absolutely, he had a wonderful sense of grace.

RG It’s an overworked word now, grace.

NB No, it’s not. It’s an underworked word.

RG Is it? I’ll fight you for it. (laughter)

NB Let’s get back to Robert Donat. It’s very important.

RG It is, because it’s like having a bag full of nudie magazines in England. You can’t refer to him, because it’s old-fashioned.

NB But old-fashioned is where it’s at.

RG But England is very admiring of American, brash acting.

NB If you could play anybody, or a couple of people, who would it be? This is not an acting question. For instance, I asked a jazz musician what he would be, and he said, Abraham Lincoln, Bobby Fischer, the chess player, and Seymour Glass, a Salinger character.

RG I would like to play Caligula, in Camus’ version. Do you know the Camus version?

NB No.

RG It’s interesting. It’s not a great play, but you can do it if you open it up. You have to really put a bomb under that thing. There’s a lot of existentialist “yadda-yadda-yadda.” It’s about corruption, I suppose, the corruption of a soul.

NB And who else?

RG That’s it. I’d like to play a great sports person. With a kind of absolute grace and ease. (laughter)

NB If you were to come back as an inanimate object, what would you be? You have to say what came to your mind instantly.

RG A stone.

NB A stone? Why a stone?

RG I don’t know, you said whatever came into my head. I don’t know why I said a stone…

NB What does it look like?

RG It’s smooth…

NB What color?

RG I don’t know, do you need me to define it?

NB Yeah.

RG A large pebble.

NB A large pebble. What color?

RG It’s a bit blondish, kind of ash colored, beech-wood color.

NB And where was it, was it alone?

RG It was on a dusty road. On a road with smaller little pebbles around, but it was…

NB You knew that was you?

RG Yeah.

Rupert Graves as Septimus Warren Smith in Marleen Gorris’ Mrs. Dalloway. Photo by Roberta Parkin. Courtesy of First Look Pictures. pic not loading :(

NB What about your work in the theater?

RG I’ve never trained at all. I mean, I did things like ‘Tis Pity, She’s a Whore at the National Theatre in The Olivier when I was 21. Which is a fucking hard play to do. It’s a lovely, hard play, but it’s a really tricky one. And I really fucked up on that. I didn’t know about Jacobean drama, I didn’t know how to speak. I don’t know if you’ve been to The Olivier in London, but it’s massive, an open theater in the round. It’s huge, like three thousand people, and I just ran down this corridor onto the stage and thought, “Ahhh…,” and forgot my lines. I wanted to say, “Come back in five years.”

NB And then what happened?

RG I fell over. I started shaking and then fell over. I got the first word, and then I just stood up and shrieked. (shrieking) I did the play like that.

NB But you got through it?

RG I got through it, but…

NB What did your other actors think? Were they mad?

RG They were just like, “Rupert, what are you doing? Hello!!??”

NB Well, there comes the bravery thing again. That was brave at least.

RG No, that was ignorant, that wasn’t brave. Brave is different, brave is trying to push as many different things, take risks, being open.

NB Playing Septimus in Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway, what was that like?

RG It was great. I read the script and I didn’t know what the hell it was about. Septimus suffers from a lot of abstracted neuroses, and I needed to find out what that was about. I went to speak to a lady at the Hospital for Psychological Disease. She worked with people who were in the Gulf War and had post-traumatic stress. But it didn’t really help, in that I knew you could be brave with shell shock or post-traumatic stress disorders, it’s not an internal thing. PTSD is actually a physical manifestation. So I wasn’t lacking in confidence, but I didn’t understand what the dialogue meant, things like, “The birds, they’re speaking in Greek to me.” So I looked at everything that Virginia Woolf wrote. Her letters, and biography, and I realized that a lot of her personal trauma had been put into her male characters. That kind of threw me a bit, as she’s acknowledged as a feminine, or feminist writer.

NB As a female writer I do it all the time.

RG But interestingly, I do it as a male. When I used to write songs, and I still do write sometimes, I often have a female character, and put my truth into a female. Woolf puts it into male characters. Things that Septimus says connect very directly to things in Woolf’s life. For example, “The birds are speaking Greek to me.” She was abused when she was a girl during Greek lessons. And when she had a breakdown when she was older she used to hear Greek birds talking to her, or birds talking in Greek. Finding out about those pieces of her life gave me the emotional plane to work on. So it didn’t have to just be, you know, jabber.

NB Actors rarely realize that the playwright or the writer is in all of the characters.

RG Yeah, the most honest stuff and her most personal stuff went into her male characters. Because Septimus is the other side of what Mrs. Dalloway would have been if she’d taken the plunge, like what she said she should have done when she was 17…

NB And married Peter? He would have been the brave choice.

RG Yeah. She took the easy route and married Dalloway. And the day in which the story takes place is her looking back, and thinking, “Am I where I had hoped to be when I was seventeen? Was I brave, or did I do the easy thing?”

NB How do you relate to that? In your life?

RG I don’t know, I’ve never had a plan. I mean, I wanted to act and I’ve done that. And I’ve gotten better as I’ve gotten older, so I’m progressing. I don’t feel I’m getting worse. Sometimes I do, sometimes I think my experience has overcome my naiveté and my naiveté is interesting in a certain way. Do you know what I mean?

NB Yes, I do.

RG You want to know what you’re gaining and what you’re losing, don’t you? Every time you take a step somewhere. That’s what I do anyway. Maybe that’s why running down the hill was so important, because normally I’m looking at stuff pretty carefully. And sometimes you just need something like that. And you can do that onstage sometimes, you can just dive—Bang! it might be into a nest of snakes or it might be a lovely work. It’s essential. I did one play which I loved doing. And the reviews came out, and I’d meet people after the play, and it was like the embodiment of everything that I’ve wanted to do with acting. It was really intense. They were going, “That was the most fucking intense thing. I never had that feeling before.” And then the reviews came out saying, “What a crock of shit.” And in one way it seemed like people were saying, “Oh, I’m so sorry about the reviews.” I was saying, “No, honestly, I don’t know what’s happened, but it’s just fantastic. People love it. People fucking love it.” You would go through the bar, and people were actually shaking sometimes, and that was so wild. It was the wildest thing I’d ever seen.

NB Sure, and the opposite happens too.

RG Yeah, absolutely, all the time. Unnervingly often, too often.

Nicole Burdette is a writer and an actress based in New York. This fall her short stories will appear in Jane magazine and the QPB Literary Review; as an actress she appears in the upcoming Digging to China directed by Timothy Hutton.

source:  bombmagazine [x]

[cowboy-crimez]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dave/Klaus Hargreeves Characters: Klaus Hargreeves, Dave Katz, Diego Hargreeves, Luther Hargreeves, Number Five, Allison Hargreeves, Vanya Hargreeves Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, No Apocalypse, 5 Times, luther has Stupid Bitch Disease and its terminal :/, dave is a closeted dumbass, Fluff Summary:

the 5 times the hargreeves siblings don't understand why a guy like dave is with klaus, plus the one time that they do

or:

dave is a closeted dumbass

  -5: Luther

It’s not that people never expected Klaus to date someone, like really date someone. It isn’t even that they were shocked that Klaus was dating a man. Hell, if Klaus wasn’t dating a man, that’d be more surprising. It’s just with how he behaves and his history, everyone expected whoever Klaus was dating to be, well.

A little fucked up.

When Klaus tells everyone that he would be bringing his boyfriend to their monthly family brunch, everyone braced for the worst. Allison leaves her wallet at home, Diego keeps his knives on him, Vanya takes extra puffs of her inhaler, Grace gives Five a stern talking to about being polite to guests, and Luther goes through the list of ‘ Things Not To Say ’ that Diego and Ben made him a few days before.

So when Klaus throws open the door to the house and strutted inside, twirling around and calling out, “Hello, mi familia!” everyone cranes their necks to see the man who followed, and the shock of seeing a handsome man who looked, well, normal, almost stuns them into silence.

It was almost comical, the clash in appearance between the two. While Klaus was wearing a denim vest over what looked to be a silk nightdress and yoga pants with flip flops, the man who stood slightly behind him had on a pair of good fitting jeans, a dark blue button-up shirt, the top two buttons undone, a leather jacket and combat boots that looked well worn but not neglected. The man’s hair was curly but neat, whereas Klaus’s curls were messy and unkempt. His face was clean shaven and bare and Klaus still had smudges of eyeliner that could have been applied yesterday, last week, or maybe even last month.

“So this is Dave,” Klaus says said, motioning towards the man. Dave smiled and everyone noted with approval that he didn’t seem to be missing any teeth. “My boyfriend!”

After perhaps a moment too long of silence, Grace clears her throat and says, “Hello, Dave, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Would you like to sit down? Brunch will be ready in about ten minutes, and coffee is on the table.”

When they go to sit down, Dave continues to surprise them by pulling the chair out of Klaus and pushing him in, before taking his own seat.

After a brief introduction, they try to have a normal conversation but every piece of information that Dave reveals about himself only confuses everyone more.

He’s a social data analyst for a marketing company, he has a master degree, he speaks two languages, he’s the youngest of four kids and he gets along with all of them, he’s from Palo Alto, and in his spare time he likes to travel, go on hikes, practice calligraphy, and paint.

Nearly every part of Dave seems to be fundamentally at odds with Klaus, as someone who never had a real job, never went to college after he almost flunked out of high school, who didn’t speak to any siblings besides Ben for a few years, and who never really dedicates enough time to get a hobby, despite having nothing but free time.

The real kicker is when Grace brings out food - Dave offering to help before even Diego could pipe up - and everyone starts loading up their plates.

Dave helps dish out food to Klaus, who sighs dreamily when Dave has to reach across him to grab orange juice for him. But when Klaus reaches for bacon to put on Dave’s plate, Dave says, “No, thank you, baby.”

“Oh, not hungry?” Klaus asks, looking concerned.

“No, it’s just that I can’t,” Dave motions to the scrambled eggs on his plate, “I’ve already decided to eat eggs.”

Klaus makes an ‘ohh’ noise, before nodding, which doesn’t help anyone else understand.

“Are you on a diet or something?” Luther asks, trying his hand at small talk. It makes sense, kinda. Dave seems to be in pretty good shape. When he took his leather jacket off and draped it on the back of the chair, Luther could see the fabric of his shirt stretch over his biceps.

“No, I’m just not allowed to eat both right now.” Dave says, smiling patiently, “It wouldn’t be kosher.”

And Luther knows he should leave it at that, but nowhere on Things Not To Say List did Diego or Ben ever anticipate Klaus bringing home a religious person.

“You’re Jewish?” Luther asks, and maybe his tone his a bit too surprised, or confused, or maybe just loud because instantly Klaus’s head shoots up and he glares at Luther, shaking his head.

Dave, for his part, seems slightly unnerved by the question but politely says, “Yes.”

“And you’re dating Klaus?”

“Yes.” Dave smiles as if being reminded of the fact brings him great joy.

“Doesn’t being around Klaus make you a sinner, like, by proxy?”

It says something about how bad the question is because even Five’s mouth drops in disbelief at what Luther has said. Dave just blinks, unable to think of how to respond, while Klaus loudly pushes his chair back.

“I can’t believe you sometimes.” Klaus practically hisses, “Why would you ask something like that? You know what, it doesn’t matter, we’re leaving.”

And at those words Dave stands up, grabs his jacket and follows Klaus out, not before turning and saying, “Thank you for cooking, Grace, it was nice to meet you.”

Once they hear the front door slam, they turn to Luther and glare.

“Why would you say that?” Allison asks. “That was so mean towards Klaus, and probably offensive to Dave!”

“It’s a valid question!” Luther insists. “Klaus and the religious have never gotten along before!”

And maybe that is a valid point, one to tack onto the growing list of reasons why no one can understand why Dave is with Klaus. Because as much as they all love their brother, they know how much of a mess he is better than anyone else. And Dave, well, Dave seems so put together, with his good family, and high paying job, and post-secondary education, and Luther would wager that Dave has a good apartment, in a nice part of town, and with those facts alone it’s hard to imagine Klaus fitting in. When they add in the fact that Dave is religious, even to a minimal extent, it seems almost impossible.

Still, they berate Luther until he relents and sends a heartfelt, apologetic text to Klaus, and extends it by apologizing to Dave.

Klaus responds with a text that says, “fuk u”, but when Diego texts him about a makeup brunch a week later, Klaus says he’ll come and Dave wants to come again too.

  -4: Ben

Out of all of the Hargreeve’s siblings, Ben has the best relationship with Klaus. When they were kids they used to be glued at the hip, always trailing behind one another, always getting in trouble because of a dare that the other had said. Out of all their siblings, Ben should be the one who understands how Klaus started dating Dave.

He doesn’t.

By all accounts, Dave is the type of guy who used to call the cops on Klaus when he fell asleep on a public bench. He has the kind of ‘upstanding citizen’ vibe that Klaus always seemed to repulse.

So Ben was more than a little surprised when a month after the fabled family brunch, Klaus invites him over for lunch and sends him an address to an apartment that’s in a part of town much nicer than any of Klaus’s previous residences.

The apartment building is modern and looks expensive. The elevator works, and the hallway carpets all look clean. When Klaus opens the door for Ben, even from the doorway he can see that the apartment has a nice view.

Ben takes his shoes off, and Klaus is already prattling away about something, hands moving through the air rapidly.

Half of the apartment looks rather normal, clean surfaces, tasteful yet unique decorations on the walls, minimalist bookshelves in the living room to house some plain looking books. The walls are a pale grey.

The other half looks like, well, it looks like Klaus happened. There are strange articles of clothing thrown over the modern looking sofa. An old floral armchair sits out of place in the living room. There’s a beaded curtain hanging in front of the doorway to the bedroom, and hanging crooked on the walls are canvases with random splashes on colour, some still dripping paint onto the wooden floor.

Ben makes the assumption that Klaus just moved himself in, and decides not to comment on it.

Finally, he tunes into the conversation that, until this point, Klaus has been having with himself. He finds out that Dave is at work - since it is noon on a Wednesday - and that Klaus is cooking chicken to make quesadillas.

It’s towards the end of the meal that Klaus says, “Dave is helping me find a job.”

“Oh?” Ben says, mouth full of chicken and bell peppers.

“Yeah, he’s teaching me how to make resumes and how to fill out applications and how to send them out and stuff.” Klaus smiles, a bit bashfully.

“Do you know what you want to do?” Ben asks. Klaus hasn’t had a path or a goal in life since he was eleven and wanted to be either a princess or a mime.

Klaus shrugs. “Not really, but Dave says I can try different things out until I find something I like or something I’m good at.”

And then he’s off talking about how he applied to Hot Topic, and wouldn’t it be funny if I worked in Hot Topic, Ben?

And Ben nods along and laughs, but mostly he’s wondering what’s Dave’s angle. Other men that Klaus has ‘dated’ either wanted him to go out, get a job no matter what and pay bills, or they wanted to keep Klaus at home as their own little kept boy. At first glance, Ben assumed that Dave was the latter; a well-off man who wanted Klaus around to be eye candy and to be fun, until he got bored or found someone more respectable. But instead, he’s encouraging Klaus to get a job - not one that just pays the bills, but one that Klaus likes - and is actively trying to help him.

It throws Ben for a bit of a loop. He wonders again what’s Dave’s angle in all of this, and more importantly, how did Klaus manage to rope him in.

He doesn’t ask, instead, he just smiles and laughs with Klaus, and hopes that it all works out okay.

 -3: Five

It is Five’s considered opinion that Klaus’s taste in men is poor. More than once Five has run into some of Klaus’s… less desirable partners in the early morning, as they tried to leave Klaus’s room, or sometimes on the street as he’s walking through town (often they’re too strung out to recognize Five, which he’s more thankful for than repulsed by).

In general, Klaus’s taste in men seems to be those who are aggressive, self-centered, uneducated, mean, and, often, heavily intoxicated. Five really doesn’t want to know where Klaus found all of his previous partners.

Despite meeting Dave a few times with his family present, and him seeming the picture of chivalry, Five is still wary of him.

Dave is sitting on a sofa in the mansion, Klaus on his lap, both of them watching a tv show when Five stomps into the living room and flops on the opposite couch with a groan.

“Aw, did mom finally shut down your evil lair?” Klaus asks, and Dave snickers a bit into his shoulder.

“Shut up.” Five says though the sofa cushion makes it come out as a grumble. He rolls over. “That stupid receptionist made a mistake, so instead of going in for my fitting at four o’clock on Sunday, I have to go in at two o’clock on Wednesday, and mom isn’t able to pick me up, and Diego and Allison are both busy, so I have to bus all the way there from school, and it’s going to take me, like, an hour.”

Klaus gasps and says, “Oh, the tragedy of it all!”

Dave looks over at the annoyed teenager.

“What’s the fitting for?”

“My eye.” Five says, poking at his left eye without flinching and moving it around a bit. “My prosthetic is loose now, so I have to go in to get a new eye fitted.”

Dave makes an “Oh.” sound, and Five is already waiting for him to ask, ‘how did you lose your eye?’ if nothing else so he can snap at him.

“Do you want me to drive you?”

“It’s none of- what?” Five asks, eyebrows furrowing.

“Do you want me to drive you?” Dave repeats, “It sounds like it’ll be a hassle for you to bus, and I can’t promise I’ll be able to drive you home or to school after, but I can probably drive you there.”

Five blinks a few times. “Are you sure?”

Dave shrugs, jostling Klaus a bit. “Yeah, I’ll just go in early or stay a bit late at work and take a long lunch or something. It won’t be a problem.”

Five agrees, and Klaus says, “Aw, my little bro and my beau are bonding.” before kissing Dave’s cheek.

If that doesn’t aid in bettering Five’s opinion of Dave, the fact that when he picks Five up from school on Wednesday and hands him a cup of coffee does. It doesn’t even matter that it’s Starbucks.

As the doctor is poking around Five’s eye socket with gloved fingers, Five’s mind wanders and he wonders how did Klaus’s taste in men get so good all of a sudden.

 -2: Allison

Allison is perusing the dresses in the department store when she hears a familiar laugh. She looks up and is surprised to see Klaus bouncing up and down the aisles, an amused Dave following closely behind, arms full of different garments.

She waves and catches Klaus’ eye.

“Hey, Allison!” He says, maybe a bit too loudly for the store’s atmosphere. He walks over and gives her a hug. “What’s going on?”

“Not much, just looking around.” She eyes the pile in Dave’s arms. “What about you?”

Klaus - ever the dramatic - flings his arms around Dave. “My three-month probation has ended, so my darling, dear Dave is buying me a gift to celebrate!”

Allison's eyes widen. “Your what?!”

“My probation,” Klaus repeats, “at work.”

For a few seconds, Allison just stares. “You have a job?”

Klaus nods his head excitedly. “Yeah! I work as a receptionist for this yoga place. Dave knows the lady who owns it and helped me get it.”

“All I did was give her a call and asked if she was hiring, you got the job all by yourself,” Dave argues, looking at Klaus lovingly.

Allison congratulates Klaus, and the three of them look around the floor for a little bit, before Klaus goes to the changing room to try on the mountain of clothes that Dave was carrying. After a few moments of silence, Allison turns to Dave.

“Listen, Dave, I just wanted to say thank you for helping Klaus,” She sees Dave open his mouth to interrupt, but she presses on, “and I’m really happy that you and him seem to be getting on, but, well, don’t let him take advantage of you like this.”

Dave furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean ‘take advantage of me’?”

She motions to the fitting room. “Buying him all these things, getting him jobs, Ben told me that you’re pretty much living together now.”

Dave looks at her with a confused and vaguely insulted face. “We live together because we like spending time together. He got his own job, all I did was call my friend and ask if she was hiring. I didn’t even tell her Klaus’s name. I’m buying him gifts because I love him and he’s been working hard.”

Allison is about to respond, but this time Dave interrupts her. “You should think better of Klaus.”

At that, Allison is almost stunned into silence. She opens her mouth a few times to try and formulate a sentence, but nothing comes out. Instead, she just looks ahead.

After a few minutes, Klaus steps out of the fitting room, twirling and showing off one of the outfits that he and Dave picked out.

“You look gorgeous, baby,” Dave says, voice laced with love and affection. “Do another spin!”

And as Allison watches Klaus spin himself dizzy at Dave’s encouragements, she wonders what Klaus did to meet a guy like Dave.

 -1: Vanya

It’s Vanya’s turn to host the bi-monthly family dinner, and it’s always a tight squeeze around her dining room table.

Most of her siblings are already on their way to being pleasantly drunk, with Klaus already there. He’s told her that he’s cut out the harder things that he was addicted to, and has cut down on the less serious ones like weed and alcohol. For that alone, she decides not to comment on how he’s already drunk an entire bottle of wine by himself.

She goes to pour some more white wine into Dave’s glass when he puts his hand over the top and says, “No, thank you, Vanya. One’s enough for me for tonight.”

Vanya almost startles at that response. “Oh, uh, want some water then?”

Dave smiles and says yes please, so Vanya goes to the kitchen and gets a glass of water, wondering,  Seriously. How the hell is this guy with Klaus?

 +1: Diego

He’s at a bar with Patch and some of her police buddies when they see a kerfuffle across the room. It doesn’t seem to be a fight, but they still peer over, trying to see what the commotion is.

They see a man stumble as he tries to stand up off the floor, apologizing to the people he tripped over. Diego squints and lets out a surprised sound when he recognizes the man, despite his dishevelled appearance.

It’s Dave.

Ignoring the confused glances of Patch’s colleagues, Diego walks over to the clearly drunk man.

“Hey, Dave,” Diego says, causing Dave to look up. For a second he squints, confused before a wide smile breaks out on his face.

“Diego! Hi! Wow, hi, Diego,” he stumbles forward a bit to meet him. “What’s poppin’, my guy?”

“Are you good?” Diego asks, ignoring Dave’s slurred question.

“Oh, yeah, man, I’m fucking great! I’m just super drunk.” Dave laughs, and Diego sighs, starting to lead him back to where Patch is looking at them, strangely.

“Who’s your friend?” One of Patch’s friends asks. Diego stumbles a bit under Dave’s weight.

“This is Dave-” Diego starts, but before he can finish Dave chimes in.

“I’m fucking his brother.” He snorts as Diego looks at him in horror, but after a second, Dave’s face gets very serious. “Wait, Diego, are you just finding out now? Klaus is like.. Super gay, dude. We’re both super gay.”

“I know you’re both gay.” Diego snaps, trying to grab his stuff from the bar. Patch’s friends are laughing maniacally, and despite her best efforts, Patch is too. “What are you even doing here, man?”

“Some of my friends from college are in town. Klaus didn’t want to come, but that’s fine, because one of my friends used to be my coke dealer, except I was super broke in college so I would just suck him off, and that’s a really hard relationship to explain.” Dave blinks a few times. “Actually, it’s not hard to explain, ‘cuz I just did it.”

It’s Diego’s turn to laugh as Patch’s friends fall silent. “I’m going to take you home, Dave.”

“Mkay, Diego,” Dave says, almost entirely leaning against him. With some difficulty, they get outside.

“Wait,” Dave says, pushing Diego away. For a second, Diego thinks he’s going to go back in because he forgot something, but instead he vomits on the sidewalk. He coughs a few times, before standing up again. “Okay, I’m good now.”

Diego gets Dave into the passenger seat of his car and wrestles his seatbelt on. It only takes a few minutes to get Dave to remember his address and some vague directions. When the car starts moving, Dave closes his eyes and leans against the window.

“Did you really do coke in college?” Diego asks, trying to keep Dave from falling asleep.

“Of course I did,” Dave mumbles. “Who doesn’t do coke in college?”

“I didn’t.”

“Yeah, well, you hang out with a bunch of narcs now, so I’m not surprised.”

Diego laughs at the seemingly uncharacteristic response. There’s a few moments of silence, and Diego can hear Dave sigh and slide further down the seat.

“So how did you meet Klaus?” Diego asks. Dave seems to instantly perk up at the sound of his boyfriend’s name. “I don’t think either of you have ever told us.”

“We meet in Vietnam,” Dave says, a dopey grin on his face. Diego furrows his eyebrows and takes a left turn.

“When were both of you in Vietnam?”

“I was there for a month on vacation. Klaus showed up about a week into the trip. I was staying at a hostel near the A Sầu Valley with some friends I was travelling with. They went out to a bar but I didn’t want to go. Instead, I went for a walk outside, in the moonlight. And then, Klaus found me…” Diego is once again surprised by Dave’s romantic nature, the seemingly endless amount of affection he holds for Klaus in his eyes and tone, and how much adoration he- “trying to eat moss.”

“...What?”

“He found me trying to eat moss. I read that some were edible and it looked cool so I wanted to give it a go.” Dave laughs a bit to himself. “And then I just pulled him around the country with me and my buds. And then it was time to go home to Palo Alto, but the thought of leaving without Klaus made me want to die. So I called my landlord, got my sisters to pack up all my stuff and ship it, quit my job, and came back with Klaus.”

Diego stops at a light and uses the opportunity to stare at Dave. “... you moved across country… to be with Klaus… after three weeks of knowing him?”

“Would’ve done it after one week, but we both wanted to see Ha Long Bay.”

Diego is stunned into silence for the remainder of the drive. When he pulls up to Dave’s apartment building, he sees him struggling with the seatbelt, so Diego figures he’ll need to help him get to his apartment.

There’s a few minutes of struggle to get Dave out of the car and into an elevator. He stumbles the whole way. They get to his door, and on principle, Diego refuses to rifle through his brother’s boyfriend’s pockets to find keys. He knocks on the door.

After a few seconds, a sleepy looking Klaus opens the door. His hair is longer than the last time Diego saw him, and he’s wearing a hoodie that Diego is pretty sure belongs to Dave.

“Babe!” Dave croons, throwing himself at Klaus, “I missed you so much!”

“Aw, I missed you too, sweetie-pie,” Klaus replies, grinning wide as he presses a kiss to the side of Dave’s head. “Hey, Diego? What are you doing here?”

“Ran into him,” Diego says, staring as Dave seems to try to burrow into Klaus’s neck. “He was pretty wasted so I gave him a ride home.”

“Oh, thanks, bro!” Klaus wraps his arms tighter around Dave.

“No problem,” Diego pauses for a second. “He told me how you guys met.”

“Oh, in ‘Nam?”

“Yeah. When did you go to Vietnam?”

“Like, eight months ago.” Klaus shrugs and pets Dave’s hair, ignoring his brother’s shocked expression. “I think I got to get my darling dearest to bed. See you at brunch next week, Diego.”

“Yeah, goodnight.” Diego mumbles, as Klaus closes the door. Even after the lock clicks, he can hear his brother laughing and Dave stumbling around.

For the first time since he met Dave, Diego thinks,  Maybe he is perfect for Klaus .

 ++1: Everyone

“Okay, so don’t be mad, but Dave and I got married on 4/20, so that our fiftieth anniversary would be 4/20/69, and I know that none of you were invited, but don’t worry: we’re going to throw a party soon to celebrate!” Klaus says as he and Dave walk into the mansion on Brunch Day.

Everyone stares at the grinning couple, both of them almost vibrating with excitement.

“You got married on 4/20?” Five asks, in disbelief.

“It was my idea!” Dave almost shouts, voice filled with pride.

“Yeah, it was, baby!” Klaus raises his hand for a high five, which Dave enthusiastically returns.

And  yeah  , everyone thinks,  maybe they do make sense together.

[shyanlibrary]

The boys as teachers for that sweet anon at my main blog. ~ Read the description of each to find out who is the teacher.

walking in the wind by orphan_account

Summary: in which Shane and Ryan go on a hundred dates and fall in love along the way.

Rated: M

Word Count: 2, 853 ~

Teacher: Shane

Commentary: One of my favorite oneshots in the fandom written by one of the authors I miss the most. This fic is fantastic, it gives you a sensation of growing with them and their relationship. Even the small angst in it it’s so well done, it makes you want to cry a little.

Hit The Books by TheseusInTheMaze

Summary: “You now what I miss? I miss the days when people used books as sources. Books are great. You can’t go wrong with books. There’s nothing that beats the smell, the feel….”

Ryan visits Professor Shane Madej's office outside of office hours, to dispute a grade. It doesn't go how he expects.

Rated: E

Word Count: 3, 548 ~

Teacher: Shane

Commentary: A fun smut with one of the oldest fantasies out there, but it’s fun to read and comes from the mind of the most prolific author in the fandom.

conflict of interest by spoopyy

Summary: Shane is a high school science teacher who really hates his job. He bumps into a passionate, but lonely history teacher named Ryan, who just might make teaching worth it.

Rated: Not Rated (G)

Word Count: 7, 055 ~

Teacher: Both

Commentary: This one is a classic in the fandom, the first one having any of them as teachers, and one of the best AUs out there. It’s fun, well crafted, well written and well characterized. It shows you a healthy and growing relationship born from friendship and interests in common, a happy yet simple happy ending that gives you that glorious sensation of maybe at the end all conflicts will have happy endings.

play me like a love song by sky_somedays

Summary: Wikipedia articles aren’t valid research sources. -s

Sent from my iPhone

“When he torpedoes you on Rate My Professor you’re gonna deserve it,” TJ informs him.

Or: Shane is Ryan’s beleaguered history TA. Ryan won’t stop suggesting insane theories.

Rated: T

Word Count: 9, 972 ~

Teacher: Shane

Commentary: This is such a fun fic. The way is done and how the story moves forward is very dynamic and mantains your attention focused on these two idiots. They are such dorks and so likeable in this fic, it makes the reading light, warm and comfortable. Really an excellent fic.

The Hierophant by carrieonfighting

Summary: “So kids, for the last week, we’ve been discussing the fundamentals of duelling.” Shane lounged easily against his desk, robes hanging open haphazardly. Ryan snorted to himself, sitting at the back of the huge room, and he saw Shane’s ear twitch.

“So today, now that I have a partner, it seems like a fantastic time to demonstrate!” He announced. It was Ryan’s turn to twitch. “Professor Bergara is your new Divination teacher, he’ll be starting his classes after the weekend. Please stand up, Professor.”

“E-excuse me?” Ryan said, turning terribly red.

In which Ryan sees the future and moves to Scotland, meets his hero and isn't impressed, hears strange noises in the night, and interrogates some ghosts. After all these years, the castle still keeps its secrets.

Rated: T

Chapters: 15/?

Word Count: 31, 449 ~

Teacher: Both

Commentary: I’m gonna be honest here and say that I haven’t read this Crossover with Harry Potter that also happens to be an AU, but I know this author and I trust their writing, and I also trust my friends’ opinions and they all love this ongoing fic. So yeah, I’m gonna rec it because I’M SURE it’s high quality and many people is enjoying it, so I hope you enjoy it, too.

When I Kissed the Teacher by hufflepuffdaddy

Summary: One of these days Gonna tell him I dream of him every night One of these days Gonna show him I care, gonna teach him a lesson alright

-or-

Ryan has the hots for his professor. Shane has the hots for his student.

Rated: T

Word Count: 5, 075

Teacher: Shane

Commentary: Man, I enjoyed this one for how FUNNY it is and also because Ryan is the biggest mood in this fic. It’s very entertaining and it has a good ending, really something to enjoy.

The Wicker House by TheGodsWaitToDelightInYou 

Summary: "Ryan is getting real tired of his house trying to kill him."

International best-selling, horror and mystery author Ryan Bergara has just bought the house of his dreams. It doesn't take long for him to settle down and make a new friend, but it also doesn't take long for odd occurrences to start piquing the author's curiosity.

Or is it just his imagination?

With a deadline creeping ever closer and a nightmarish case of writer's block, is it the stress that is messing with his head?

Or is it something more...sinister?

UPDATE: I've deleted everything after chapter 1 because I'm editing the chapters and/or completely redoing them.

Rated: Not Rated (T)

Word Count: 1, 918 ~

Chapters: 1/?

Teacher: Shane

Commentary: I liked this fic when it was going, and while it hasn’t been updated ever since the author deleted the others chapters to edit it, I believe it’s worth the wait and the try. It’s very interesting, and Ryan is an author in this one.

[vinylcream3-blog]

Green Book (2018)

White people tell black people all about racism (again) in this year’s surprise Best Picture victor. Well, pleasantly surprised to a few people — Roma was initially considered the frontrunner, quite possibly of those with their finger within the pulse associated with Hollywood possessed already forecast Green Book’s success. One such pundit was Deadline’s Pete Hammond, an incredibly pro-Green Book voice, though his post-show analysis has a tendency to propose it only won as a result of efforts by means of some Ecole members to rig the vote against Netflix… The reaction to Green Book possesses already been an odd a person. It was initially well received, being successful the People’s Choice Prize after its premiere from TIFF, and racking up approval from both equally critics (a Licensed Fresh 79% about Rotten Tomatoes) and followers (8. 3 on IMDb, which places it 128th with their Top 250 list). Nevertheless the more commonly it is been seen in addition to reviewed, the more this tide features turned, specifically as a varied market has come to it. In its surface, the movie is about defeating racism — it’s the particular true story associated with some sort of bigoted Italian Us (Viggo Mortensen) serving seeing as a new driver for talented Camera American pianist Dr Add Shirley (Mahershala Ali) as he goes on a live show visit of the Heavy South while in segregation — but it is very instructed fully from the white wine guy’s perspective. Coming on the idea from the standpoint of any white guy also, I am able to see why people currently have liked the movie. It’s decently entertaining, along with likeable shows from Mortensen and Ali, who have great hormone balance. A Quiet Place Part 2 download Their chalk-and-cheese relationship is funny without tipping over in to outright comedy; plus, naturally, the way they come to acquire coupled is usually Heartwarming. Although it’s likewise a completely unchallenging motion picture. There’s just enough racism that you get in order to go “ooh, were not things unpleasant back then! ” and be joyed whenever the characters defeat it in various ways, however not so much as to express the actual outrage and horror connected with the era — or perhaps, indeed, the way the idea remains today. You’d assume racism was more or less solved by way of that pair getting together back in ’62. And that is a huge part involving the difficulty with the particular film. If you’d produced this something like 20 or 30 years ago, that level of discourse might be good — beginning to help make old light men experience up to what happened simply by softening it a little, simply by letting these people see themselves within the whitened guy. Now, it all looks kinda naïve plus simplistic. The more you get into it, the whole lot more you realise Golf course Guide has some everything needed hurtful elements of their unique. I mean, the white gentleman actually helps the african american man or woman to become a better black guy! That’d be offensive in the fictional, nevertheless when we were looking at authentic people it seems undesirable. I suppose the counterargument may possibly be that the black man helps make the white-colored guy better too, bettering his capacity to publish like letters, as if that was some type of common beneficial exchange. Nevertheless it is very not equal, is the idea? Plus it’s again almost all from the white guy’s viewpoint: he’s fundamentally great however hey, a tad of a polish wouldn’t hurt, whereas the black color guy needs a figure change that apparently only this particular straight-talking white dude can give him. But hi, seldom just take this from this white guy. For instance, check out and about this specific piece by simply Justin Alter at the D. A. Times about this film and the reception in the wake from the big win. It digs into the film’s concerns plus techniques better when compared to how I ever before could. A good side note regarding typically the film’s title: it is taken from The Negro Cars Green Book, a guide book to help African Us citizens take a trip in the segregated South by listing organizations that would take these individuals. They do use it within the film… briefly, about three periods total. Anyone feel like a motion picture depicting how and the reason why the volume came directly into lifetime might’ve made regarding a good more fresh account. In the end, We come across Green Book a little difficult to rate. On its way to it as a good white viewer, it’s a great enjoyably safe trip into history, with charming heroes on enough of a new personal journey to provide it a story arch, but not so much regarding one as to actually make it challenging. Similarly, that has some sort of simplistic but not essentially negative motif (“racism is undesirable, yo”). In that mindset, it’s a nice, feel-good two hours. Yet, considering it’s 2019 not 1989, I might absolutely see why many are clamouring for additional nuanced engagement with these concerns. I wouldn’t call the idea a bad movie, although it is an old fashioned one, and definitely not this best of what 2018 had to offer.

[margridarnauds]

Ship Meme: 7, 16, 30; Ronan/Laz or Bres/Sreng

Since apparently I’m in the mood for these two losers...

7. What do they get up to on a night out?

Even though Ireland will always be Bres’ main stronghold (out of sheer stubbornness if nothing else), he also has a bit more of an international reach than the rest of the Tuatha dé and is overall much, much happier just being around mortals. (He and Manannan will both STAUNCHLY deny having that in common, but. Well. Like uncle, like nephew.) Most of the Tuatha dé have a disdain for the mortals, still holding them responsible for them losing Ireland, perfectly content to stay beneath the earth in their Sidhe-mounds and keep to themselves as they’ve done for centuries, but does Bres REALLY care about that? No. He's actually FONDER of them for that reason. 

He’s perfectly happy in Paris, Boston (though the Dagda is oddly fond of that one, for reasons that Bres quite frankly can’t understand), or Las Vegas, where he’s one more face in the crowd. (As opposed to, say, Dublin, which, as much as he likes it for its Viking origins, there’s a not-inconsequential possibility that he’ll run into someone that he cares about or, God help him, Lugh, on the rare occasions Lugh bothers with mortals.) He also tends to avoid Scotland and Norway, because there’s a little too much Fomorian influence for him to be happy, and the LAST thing he wants is for his father to be there when he’s on a nice, happy date with his boyfriend.) 

Their nights out tend to be when both of them relax around one another. Both of them are a lot more animated than they tend to initially come off (post CMT, Bres has really sobered for the most part, ESPECIALLY after the little incident with the red liquid), going from one thing to another. Bres tends to look up everything beforehand that they could go to and drags Sreng from place to place, though sometimes he’s perfectly happy just to go for a walk, now that they’re both at a place where they can HAVE that kind of liberty. Back in the old days, there was such an emphasis on status and having a proper retinue that there were few enough times that they could actually have any time to themselves. Taking aside all the touristy options, arcades seem to be a particular favorite. Bres is a GENIUS at pinball. Meanwhile, he totally takes advantage of having a tall boyfriend to get a ton of tickets in the little basketball courts. They get VERY competitive when it comes to laser tag, to a frankly ridiculous extent. 

(Lugh is always constantly on the lookout, because he believes that it’s part of some diabolical scheme that Bres has to conquer Ireland. It’s been centuries now. He still has no idea.)

16. When the zombie apocalypse comes, how do they cope together?

Honestly, Bres and Sreng are SET for the zombie apocalypse. The two of them are, in their own time, two of the most competent men from their respective sides. (Bres is a bad KING, but look at his kill count in Cath Maige Tuired Conga. He’s a very, very pretty killing machine.) There would be NO problem as far as whether or not they could, like, drive a knife through someone’s brain. The answer is an obvious “Yes.” Personally, I see Bres becoming disgusted with the Tuatha dé fairly early on with things, since they would obviously leave those who don’t fit their Ideal to the zombies (which would include the Fir Bolg, the slaves, the ones who don’t fit into that artistic elite, etc), defecting to Sreng and the Fir Bolg. 

(”Oh no, Lugh’s a zombie, whatever shall we do?”)

I do think that Sreng would be tested to his extreme, because in-canon (I know, always a funny term to use with these texts), Sreng DID have to deal with a situation where their population was depleted that MASSIVELY. And, if we’re assuming this is taking place post-Cath Maige Tuired Conga, it would be CRUSHING to him because their population is so small that ANY Fir Bolg that’s killed would be someone he KNEW. He would have to make a lot of high pressure decisions really quickly, and I think it would haunt him. There would be all those thoughts of “What could I have done differently?” In which case Bres would really be the best person to deal with it, just as a source of stability. But, from what we see of Sreng, he’s level minded, he’s NOT stupid, and he’s not keen on taking huge risks. He’d honestly probably be the best guy the Fir Bolg could have on their side. 

30. Why does it work (or not work) between them? 

Bres and Sreng honestly have a LOT in common. One thing that I don’t think I really discuss as much with them is that BOTH of them start out at this place where they’re essentially outsiders in their own tribe. 

It’s not mentioned in-text, but Sreng’s father, Sengann, was one of the initial Fir Bolg kings who first landed on Ireland, and he would be killed fairly early on in things. It’s not mentioned how old Sreng was when that happened, but I tend to lean towards “YOUNG.” And then Sreng’s brother, Fodbgen became ruler after killing the man who killed their father, only to die shortly thereafter at the hands of Eochaid mac Erc, who was king of the Fir Bolg when Sreng fought Cath Maige Tuired Conga and who would die then. The homefront for Sreng at the beginning of things has GOT to be tense when they send him out to meet with Bres, he’s got to be in this very odd position as far as everyone EXPECTING him to one day kill Eochaid, because that’s been the pattern. 

And meanwhile, Bres isn’t REALLY in with the Tuatha dé either; his father’s a foreigner, his connection to the Tuatha dé comes from the maternal line. And, like with Sreng, it’s pretty easy to read between the lines with Bres and at least guess that he’s not exactly had a childhood as we’d know it (not that a lot of Irish heroes did, given the love that the texts have for the Prodigy Hero). Growing at twice the age of a normal kid, I think that his bonds with kids his own age would have been very stunted, I tend to think that he probably was subjected to taunting because of his status. (Judging from some bardic poetry where Lugh gets bullied for his Fomorian ancestry, along with the little moment in Tochmarc Etain where Aengus is given a difficult time for not knowing his father and mother.) Bres is probably married to Bríg at this point (though there’s such little info available on that one, you could HC it any number of ways), but she’s part of that literary elite that Bres doesn’t fit in with. 

So, when they meet up, they’re both really at this place where they’ve managed to work their way into the tribe, but they’re also not content there, and then they meet someone who GETS them on a fundamental level. Which is why I tend to HC that Bres goes downhill once the Fir Bolg leave. He had a chance at someone who UNDERSTOOD him and who loved him outside of his looks or what he could do for them, and suddenly that was ripped away. And that’s how I tend to see their dynamic going throughout the years afterwards, as the two of them really ARE the only stability that they’ve ever had. They’re really kind of an inversion of the later Cú Chulainn/Ferdiad dynamic, where they met young, got that attachment to one another, and then let their peoples tear them apart. Bres looked at that society that said “You have no choice but to choose us over him, if you’re lucky we might even forgive you for replacing Nuada” already exhausted and heart-sick and said “I have one option left: Break society.” Bres ISN’T the faithful dog to them that Cú Chulainn or even Lugh is but he’s a better man, because he still has a conscience, even if he buried it deep for Cath Maige Tuired, and so he ends up breaking, and suddenly him and Sreng are at this place where they’re free to start things, and Sreng’s stable enough and puts enough of a focus on family ties that he’s perfectly fine acting as another parent to Bres’ kids. And because of the way that things ended initially, Sreng totally didn’t think that there would ever be a chance that Bres could requite things. Like, he’ll still sometimes turn over in bed and go “WOW. How did that happen?”

Basically, unlike, say, Ferdiad/CC, which starts off as Friends-Lovers-Rivals, they go from Rivals-Friends-Lovers. And if Bres is away from Sreng for more than, like, a few days, he goes into full-blown pining mode. It’s pathetic. The TDD have accepted that The Fir Bolg has to be there, because NO ONE wants to put up with an irritable, pining half-Fomorian former king. Because Bres has more or less forgotten how to sleep on any other surface that isn’t Sreng’s chest throughout the years. Yet another advantage of the height difference.

[mybullshitsensesaretingling]

Abrasive

Request: Hey, I just wanted to say I'm a big fan of your work and I was wondering if you can write another spock x reader imagine where spock and reader hate each other but that's because they don't know how to express their feelings for each other and Jim locks them into the same room?Thank you😊 - @mateapejic17mp

A/N: Sorry this one took so long. I was trying figure out how to make it different than the last one.

“I’m a grown adult, Jim. I don’t have to be friends with anyone I don’t want to be,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Isn’t that the exact opposite of your job description?” he asked as he sorted through the pile of PADDs on his desk.

“I’m a diplomate, not a pleasure planet entertainer,” you snapped.

“No need to get snippy. I just think the six months you have to spend with us would go smoother if you got along with my first officer.”

You sucked in a deep breath and when you let it out a small, forced smiled pulled at your lips.

“Fine,” you said, “I’ll play nice.”

“You’re not going to though, are you?”

“No.”

Jim sighed and rubbed his face roughly with his hands.

You raised your shoulders. “Sorry.” Dropping your eyeline to your hands and starting to pick at your nails, you continued, “He just really grates my cheese.”

“Does he?” You could hear the laugh he was holding back.

“Like cheddar.” You stood up, preparing to leave. “And I refuse to - on principle - get along with him.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said as you walked out.

-

With three PADDs, two empty coffee cups, and one full one set out in front for you, you dove deeper into your work. A coworker’s voice came in an endless stream from one of the PADDs. You nodded along as she spoke, your figures working tirelessly on the other two screens.

“I was not aware you were in here,” Spock stated from the doorway.

“Jim said I could work in here,” you told him without looking up.

“I’ll come back later.” You heard him turn to go back through the door but instead of the usual swoosh sounding from it, an angry beep went off.

Now you looked up.

“What was that?”

“It appears the door has been locked,” he said.

“So unlock it,” you said returning to your work.

“I can’t.” You looked back up at him, prompting him to explain, “It has been locked using a code I do not have the clearance to.”

“Mary, I’m going to have to call you back,” you said to your coworker before ending the subspace transmission being displayed on your screen.

“I’ll contact the captain, explain that a mistake has been made,” Spock announced as he reached for the communicator.

“There was no mistake,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair. “We’ve been tricked.”

Spock’s eyes moved back and forth between you and the locked door trying to put it together.

“Jim,” he started slowly, “did this in an effort to get us to get along.”

“Well, get the man a prize,” you snarked.

“Perhaps Jim would not have found this necessary if it were not for your aggressive personality.” He turned back to the door, thinking up a way to get out. “Then we could both get back to work.”

The corner of your mouth twitched despite yourself. “And he bites back.”

Spock had no visible reaction to your comment.

“Might as well sit down and get comfortable; we’re going to be here for a while.” You tapped on one of your screens.

“You’re not going to try to appease the captain?” he asked.

“No, because while Jim seems to have confused our lives for an after school special where everyone can be friends, I’m grounded in reality enough to know that some people just aren’t meant for that.”

“You are suggesting that we are a pair of those people.” It wasn’t a question.

“You disagree?” you asked.

“Your stubborn and near immediate decision to dislike me has not left much room for me to disagree.”

You eyed him for a moment, before deciding to drop the conversation altogether. There was no point to it. You were a busy person and you didn’t have the time for any part of this situation.

It was hard to be productive while you were fighting to ignore Spock’s presence, commanding yet respectful, but you were determined to work through it. That was until the error notification showed up on your screen.

Letting out a load groan of frustration, you repeatedly hit the refresh button, knowing that it wouldn’t do anything.

“What are you doing?” Spock asked critically.

A message popped up on your PADD.

Jim T. Kirk:

Talk to him.

“Your dear captain cut off my connection to the server.” You tossed your PADD back on the table and added from between your teeth, “He’s insisting we talk.”

Raising an eyebrow, Spock waited in silence to see where you chose to go from there, his brown eyes - that you hated - studying you.

With a heavy sigh you made your decision, “I suppose we have no choice.”

“Shall we start with your distaste for me?” he asked crossing his arms. The sharp personality that you decided he had from the first look was in stark contrast with his soft features, which, just for the record, you also hated.

“I thought we’d dip our toes in, but okay, sure, let’s dive right into the deep end.” You straightened up in your chair. “You’re very abrasive.”

“I don’t see how that could be a valid reason given that you, yourself are quite abrasive.”

You narrowed your eyes, but found you couldn’t argue.

“You’re cold,” you offered as another reason.

“I do not believe my body temperature varies greatly from that of a human.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, closed-off. Indifferent. Unfeeling.”

“Now you are just demonstrating your ignorance of Vulcan culture.”

“Am I?” You crossed your arms, mirroring his posture.

“Vulcans are far from unfeeling.”

“Is this the part where you explain to me how ancient Vulcans were out of control because of their emotions and Surak saved the whole species with meditation? Because I’m already bored.”

He made a face that didn’t quite line up with any human expression.

“I’m sorry, that came off far more xenophobic than I intended.” You uncrossed your arms. “I understand that both your culture and biology play a role in how you display emotions and I’m sure it is just a matter of getting used to you, but honestly I’ve met plenty of Vulcans - and goldfish for that matter - that were better conversationalists than you.”

“You’re very up front with your opinions.”

You scoffed. “Because you’re so good at keeping yours to yourself?”

It was at this point that you were beginning to fully understand Jim’s reasoning behind locking the two of you in there. The realization of how fundamentally similar you and Spock were angered you more than anything Spock had ever actually said to you.

“I am not nearly as aggressive when presenting them,” Spock said.

“I prefer passionate.”

“You choose some odd things to be passionate about.”

“You don’t choose passion. It finds you,” you told him. “And it found me everywhere. It’s what makes me so good at my job.” You bit your lip and admitted in a quieter tone, “And really bad at it.”

“I don’t see how you can be both good and really bad at something.”

“Mmm. It is a gift,” you mused. “This trick is to be so amped up about things that you get others amped up and make them agree with you but then start fights when people don’t agree with you. Because you’re amped up.”

“I see,” Spock said simply.

With an absent minded hum, you reach for one of your screens, but your hand stopped halfway through its journey, when he spoke up again.

“Have you considered not fighting?”

You let out a breathy chuckle. “I have actually.”

“It was unsuccessful?” he asked in earnest.

“Doing my job without arguing would be like you doing yours without… I dunno, a microscope.”

“Fascinating.”

“Ya know, you have a great untapped potential as a debater,” you said as you grabbed a PADD that had pinged.

Jim T. Kirk:

See, you’re getting along. I was totally right to do this.

You quickly typed out a response.

(Y/N):

I’m punching you in the knee cap when I get out of here.

Jim T. Kirk:

And you’ll be totally justified.

“Is that Jim?” Spock asked.

“Why are we friends with him?” you asked instead of answering his question.

“I believe he conned us into it,” he said evenly.

You barked out a loud laugh. One of your hands flew up to cover your mouth as you stared at the man in surprise. He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. You lowered your hand an inch or two.

“Was that a joke?”

“It was merely a statement. Any humor you found in it was unintentional,” he told you.

“I’m sure,” you chuckled.

“Vulcans do not joke.”

“Maybe not. But you’re half human and you’re,” you pointed a finger at him, “funny.”

Your PADD pinged again.

Jim T. Kirk:

Tell him you like his butt.

“What sort of repercussions would I face if I kill someone while aboard this ship?” you asked, still glaring at Jim’s message.

“You would be placed in the brig until we reach the nearest starbase where you would be handed of to Federation authorities. From there you would be brought back to Earth where there would be a trial, presumably resulting in jail time,” Spock explained.

“So just the regular repercussions then? Good to know.” You set the PADD back on the table without responding to his message. “Did he have a little talk to you about me before locking us in here?”

“Yes. He seemed to believe my displeasure with you was a thinly veiled disguise for my romantic feeling for you.”

“Did he?”

“At the time, I very strongly disagreed.”

At the time? You tried to keep your cool, picking up your coffee cup to hide the whirlwind of thoughts that just started up in your mind.

“We had many similar conversations. Some of which shouldn’t be discussed in polite company.” You took a sip of your coffee that had long since grown cold.

“And did you agree with him?”

“I think it’s been well established that I like to argue.”

[ruminativerabbi]

The End of Privacy

I have been revised! The news came just the other day in an email from ancestry.com informing me that my DNA profile has been revised in light of serious amounts of new data that they have recently processed and which now allow them to refine my ancestral portrait based on the DNA sample I sent them last spring. And now for the results: instead of being of 96% European Ashkenazic heritage, 2% Sephardic, 1% South-East Asian (a true mystery) and 1% of indistinct origin (whatever that meant exactly), my DNA profile has now been revised to yield the completely un-startling result that, genetically speaking (as well as by disposition, worldview, and appearance), I am of 100% Ashkenazic/European origin. Was I surprised? Not very! And yet…I had come to like the idea of having some weirdly inexplicable Sri Lankan blood in me somewhere, something that, at the very least, could have turned into a good short story. I suppose I’ll get over it. I might as well! 

Joan took the test too and received similarly expected results. I suppose most people do. But, of course, not all do. I wrote to you last year about the remarkable way that a woman from Chicago discovered that her (apparently) 100% Irish Catholic father turned out to have started out in life as a 100% Jewish baby boy who was sent home with the wrong set of parents and whose real parents (i.e., the woman who gave birth to him and his biological father) took whom the (actually) Irish Catholic baby who grew up to be a Jewish man from the Bronx and the patriarch of a large, complicated Jewish family. (If you find that confusing, you can revisit that letter by clicking here.) There, I mused aloud about the malleable boundaries of identity, about what it means to be who we are—and what that means with respect to the ultimate definition of Jewishness or, for that matter, any kind of identity deemed to inhere in an individual at birth. To my great surprise, I actually received an email from the woman with the Jewish Irish Catholic father in response to what I wrote about her case and I was very gratified indeed by her very generous appraisal of what I had to say about her situation and her father’s.

You have to be a serious genealogist to take advantage of most of what these online DNA sites offer. When I visit the ancestry.com website, for example, I can see the names of more than a dozen people whom the site says are “almost definitely” my fourth or fifth cousins. (Fifth cousins are people, one of whose thirty-two great-great-great-grandparents was a sibling of one of the other person’s thirty-two great-great-great-grandparents.) I’ll have to upgrade my membership if I want actually to contact any of them, but I haven’t taken that step. Nor do I think I will in the future. (In all fairness, they’ve also dangled the names of two second cousins to see if I’ll take the bait. So far, I’ve resisted.) But it turns out that there is a lot more to all of this than learning the names of theoretical cousins possibly descended from theoretical siblings who lived in the eighteenth century.

One of the side developments of all this DNA testing is the discovery some men have made, not of distant cousins, but of children inadvertently fathered somewhere along the way and in any number of different ways. (This phenomenon, which will only become more common in the coming years, has touched one family in our congregation and it has touched my own family as well. Those two stories were different in detail, but identical in terms of result…and, although both appear to be having happy endings, it feels unlikely that there are not out there people whose entire lives have been or will be turned upside down by this kind of unanticipated revelation.) Another has to do with the forensic use of these data banks to solve crimes long consigned to the “cold case” bin and only now becoming solvable in the wake of the proliferation of these online DNA banks.  You may recall reading about the arrest of the man police accuse of being the so-called “Golden State Killer,” a violent criminal considered likely to be responsible for fifty rapes and a dozen murders committed between 1976 and 1986 whose identity was only revealed to the authorities after they uploaded DNA taken from the crime scenes to a site called GETmatch.com. (To read more about that specific case, click here. Making that specific case more interesting is the fact that although the suspect did not personally offer his DNA to any of the online testing sites, a few of his relatives did…and matching the crime-scene DNA to their profiles led to the arrest of the sole individual to whom they were all related.)

But the specific issue I want to write about this week has to do neither with the discovery of unknown offspring nor the solution of cold-case crimes. Instead, I’d like to write about an issue that feels as though it has the potential to dwarf both those issues in terms of the impact it could conceivably have on society.

To date, about fifteen million people have consciously and intentionally sent in samples of their DNA for analysis to sites like 23andme.com or ancestry.com. Another couple of million have signed up at a few less well-known sites. We are, therefore, talking about far less than 10% of American citizens, but the implications of this phenomenon are far greater than the numbers suggest. Just this week, a study co-written by Yaniv Erlich, Tal Shor, Itsik Pe’er, and Shai Carmi was published in the journal Science that suggested just how important this whole phenomenon is…and how it will soon affect the lives of millions of people who themselves have not sent in their DNA for analysis.

To date, about sixty percent of Americans of North European descent—Brits, Germans, Poles, Danes, Swedes, etc.—can be identified through these databases regardless of whether they have personally sent in their DNA for analysis. And that number is only the beginning: within two or three years, the authors of the Science essay imagine that a full ninety percent of Americans whose families originate in northern Europe will be identifiable through their DNA even if they themselves have not personally contributed any DNA sample.

To me, that sounded unbelievable. It’s one thing, after all, for my ancestry.com page to say that mitchKK (whoever he is) and I are “highly likely” to be second cousins. (I think we probably are cousins, by the way—the 2nd K matches the odd way my great-grandparents spelled their last name so I’m guessing one of his grandfathers must have been one of my grandmother’s brothers.) But that only sounds plausible because we both contributed samples of our DNA and so opened ourselves up to being identified as each other’s relative. But how could this possibly work with people who specifically have not contributed their DNA? That’s what I set myself to trying to figure out.

I’m not sure I understand the Science article entirely correctly. (To try for yourself, click here.) But as far as I can understand, the whole thing has to do with third cousins because, it turns out, the way the tests work is precisely to identify people whose DNA samples match closely enough for them to be third cousins, i.e., the great-grandchildren of siblings. Most of us apparently have about 800 people in the world whose DNA matches ours to that extent. And if just one of those people is in the data base, then someone who truly knows what he or she is doing can extrapolate information based on other public records to find a trail to a sought-after individual even if that person has not personally contributed DNA of his or her own.  This does not bode well for people who value their privacy.

The authors of the Science article chose thirty DNA test results at random from the GEDmatch database and then, by analyzing that data and using public information available to all, they were able to identify third cousins of about 60% the people whose DNA they had selected for study. (GEDmatch, with only a million customers, is significantly smaller than its competitors but was amenable to allowing the experiment to proceed.). In an article describing the experiment published in the New York Times this week (click here), Heather Murphy quoted Yaniv Erlich, one of the authors of the Science article, as saying that, “to identify an individual of any ancestry background, all that is needed is a database containing two percent of the target population.” That stopped me in my tracks.  

Is that really possible? Graham Coop, a genetics professor at the University of California Davis who is cited in the Times article, thinks so and is quoted as saying that “society is not far from being able to identify 90 percent of people through the DNA of their cousins in genealogical databases.” In my opinion, anyone who doesn’t find that both startling and seriously unsettling probably hasn’t thought the matter through carefully enough!

I’ve been sensitive for a long time to the slow erosion of personal privacy in our American culture. For most of us, that thought conjures up almost funny images of some drone at the NSA poring over trillions of emails that could not possibly be of interest to anyone other than the person to whom they were sent. But the thought that society seems to be blundering almost unawares into a future in which personal privacy is a thing of the past and the fullness of an individual’s genetic heritage is suddenly a matter of public record regardless of whether that individual has or hasn’t chosen to become part the digital quarry from which amateurs like myself presumed such data could only be mined—that seems to me to be far beyond something reasonably referenced as a quirky innovation of the digital age. The right to personal privacy in life—to live free without the oversight of others and without their interference—is one of the fundamental privileges of citizens in a democracy. That we appear to be on the verge of losing control over that foundational right is just another sign of just how out of control things are as we barrel into the future only vaguely aware of what we ourselves have wrought.

[justtextmeoppa]

❝ You could have told me ❞

Plot: You and Chanyeol are best friend, he loves you and you love him, but both are unware of each other feelings. 

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader 

Words count: 3,8k+ 

Genre: College!Au / A bit of angst / Fluff 

For anon, I hope you like it! - M. 

Gif isn’t mine, credits to the owner! 

Your parents warned you that college years would be the toughest, perhaps even more so than high school. But you had always underestimated their continued remark on how much your life would have undergone a drastic change once away from home and with the weight of the studies on the shoulders.  

They were right, after three years you could even say you didn't recognize yourself. Marked dark circles, social life practically absent and the continuous pounding overwhelming reminder of the professors to give the best.  

Yet there was a consolation in all that, in all that long and draining race on the roller coaster.  

Park Chanyeol.  

The only person who can make any problem disappear from your mind. He, his contagious smile almost was a magnet and his Yoda ears, that you loved caressing during movie nights while he rested his head on your legs, seeking peace after a tiring day.  

The thought that Chanyeol, in the years of high school, was only your weird seat partner to which you paid little attention always made you smile; because you would never have believed that once in college your friendship would become so fundamental to you.  

Perhaps for you, as you had understood for some time now, it was something more than a friendship, but you never found the courage to talk him about it. You were so deeply in need of his presence in your life, that the fear of losing him for a silly thing - even if you knew that your feelings weren't silly - surpassed anything else.  

A little sighed crashed indeed against your teeth, while you clenched them in prey to a small hysterical crisis because of your imminent and frightening test. Your mind didn't cooperate, too saturated with information and the only thing you could do was sigh, try to snatch your hair and throw your head backward by fixing the ceiling of your room.  

Someone knocked on your door and you knew it couldn't be your roommate because she was out with his boyfriend to celebrate you didn't know what. With a grunt, you got up from the chair and you were ready to assault anyone who had the courage to disturb you, but all the anger and fatigue vanished instantly as the giant figure of Chanyeol hid you completely, since in comparison to him you were a little dwarf.  

"Dress up, we go out, move." He said with his deep voice, without hiding the huge grin that showed his dimples on the sides of his mouth. That smile was for years your salvation, although in the last period it was the cause of violent and sickening blows to your poor and little heart, where you found yourself bent in two because it was too much to hold. Too much perfection in your opinion.  

You watched him carefully and noticed that he was dressed oddly enough, a white shirt that perfectly showed his well-built torso and a pair of skinny jeans ripped in too many points, in your opinion. The only thing left to the randomness seemed to be his hair, perfectly messy and with the silvery locks that fell on his eyes and provoked a slight itch into your hands. How many times you moved them unconsciously and received a strange look in return, which you still couldn't decipher.  

"Channie, my tes--"  

"No test, stop it." He pushed you into your own room, overstepping you and going to your closet; "You have to get out of this hole, Y/N. You're literally freaking out and I'm not going to lose my best friend because of the study" You silenced while he started to look at your clothes despite you were the one with the most taste in dressing between the two.  

With a happy grin, while exasperated you were sitting on your bed to wait, he turned and had a dress for each hand. Clothes that you even forgot to own, too busy to have good grades to keep the scholarship.  

The one in his right hand was blue night, with a dizzying neckline on his back and maybe even fit you again. In that left, he had something simpler, suited to the temperature of those days and spring that was now doing his course perfectly.  

"Whi--"  

"White, it'd be better." He murmured for you and you smiled, still struck by how he could read your mind without even looking at you.  

You touched the light fabric of the white dress, after getting up and approaching him, lifting on your toes and brushing his cheek with your lips. He stiffened to that contact and closed his eyes, while you unaware of everything walked away and went to hide in the bathroom to be able to dress.  

Chanyeol relaxed, taking a deep breath and passing a hand through his silver hair. He could no longer understand how you could be so blind as not to see how completely he was in love with you, but his plan for that evening was trying to make you understand. Without realizing that maybe it wasn't the better than the plans.  

~ ~

The ticking of your heels was the only thing you could hear at the time, while you kept walking back and forth in the women's bathroom. You took refuge in that "room" just to be able to escape from the sickening scene that occurred to you once you came back from the bar counter with your friend.  

The right to try jealousy, the violent one that would also push you to say the worst things in the world, didn't fit in your strings; but seeing  Chanyeol caressing the hair of that girl, laughing at her bad jokes and flirting as if his life depended on it had given you nausea.  

And it was for that reason that you apologized, with a thread of voice, hiding in the bathroom by those who were now fifteen minutes. You didn't dare to face that scene and you felt stupid while you knew it might happen.  

Chanyeol was a beautiful guy, funny though a bit odd and you knew everyone was going crazy for him, not just the girls. You were accustomed to him passing through the halls to the classrooms under the dreamy looks of the people, especially girls but he had never shown any interest in those years.  

Perhaps that was the evening when the "need of sex" for Chanyeol woke up or simply had found the love of his life, you couldn't know but now you knew that you would prefer to stay in your room to go crazy on books.  

Someone started knocking towards the twenty minutes and signing you opened the door, apologizing with the girl who with fury moved you and locked you out of the bathroom; your only lifeline.  

With uncertain pace, you would turn the small corridor that took you to the baths and that scene will disgust you even more, because they were too close, too intimate and her hands that kept moving along his arm annoyed you.  

The decision to ignore them and get out of the bar was sudden, but when the cold air of the night struck your skin slightly sweaty you shivered, starting to walk in the direction of the campus. You wanted to erase those images from your mind because they threatened to make you collapse even before you came to your room.  

And yet the blame was yours too. You never found the courage to confess what you were feeling for him, how important he was and stupidly you had hidden that problem in a small part of your mind. It was also your fault if he was now with a girl; even if you were convinced that even with your confession, things between you two wouldn't have changed.  

He behaved in the same way with anyone, there had never been signs that he liked you and it was also for that reason that you had desisted all the time.  

You started rubbing your hands on your arms, trying to chase down the chills that had begun to make you tremble, observing the deserted streets and trying not to get intimidated by the spooky aspect that the city assumed at night. Chanyeol was always with you, maybe that's why you never felt fear during your night walks.  

"Y/N! Hey, Stop!"  

His deep voice made you wince, but you kept walking pretending not to hear it. Because not, you didn't want to see his stupid face, his eyes lightly shiny because of the alcohol you both had either drunk or felt the smell of that girl onto his clothes because of the proximity. No, you just wanted to leave. Immediately a firm grip squeezed on your wrist and you stopped, sighing heavily and chasing back the lump that had formed in your throat when you had heard his voice.  

"What's going on..? Aren't you okay? You weren't there anymore and I was scared to death, Y/N. "  

Your absence of response made him worry even more, so he made you turn and you found yourself a few inches from his face. He leaned towards you, observing your features carefully and began to touch your arms with his big hands, provoking you the umpteenth wave of shivers and this time not for the cold.  

"Y/N.. I'm going to get you home, you're bloody pale. You had to tell me you weren't feeling well; " he began to say, surrounding your shoulders with his arm, moving you towards him; "And the next time you decide to disappear, please.. Tell me. I was going to have a panic attack."  

His chest greeted your face and you were too emptied of every emotion to fight his gestures, his sweetness, so you let yourself be clenched and his arm was immediately around your waist, erasing any kind of space that was between you two. His scent pierced your nostrils and made your head to spin slightly, while your heart started running, beating more and more violently that it seemed to want to snatch your rib cage and escape.  

"Chanyeol, enough.. "  

He didn't hear you, but your voice was too weak anyway.  

"Chanyeol, stop it." Your voice rose by a few octaves and with a huge effort you put your hands on his chest and pushed him away, caught him by surprise. He loosened the grip on your waist but he didn't let you go, he couldn't do it especially after seeing your expression. Your face was lowered but he still managed to glimpse something shine on your cheek and soon after he realized that you were crying, feeling the concerning increase even more.  

Without thinking he cupped your cheek in his hand and lifted your face, which provoked the umpteenth gagging that you would hunt back. You couldn't look at those eyes, read the concern in them and pretend that everything was perfect. Nothing was perfect and you were slowly crashing in front of him, under that touch that many times had cured your wounds.  

"Why are you crying? Y/N, what's going on? "  

"Go to that chick and let me go home, please. I'm tired. "  

Your tone made him buckle an eyebrow, dazed by the way you were reacting and talking. Yet he didn't leave the grip on your face, which became stronger but never lost that sweetness that you could perceive. His hand trembled but his gaze was serious, his jaw was clenched and there was a strange light in his eyes.  

"What's wrong with you?"  

"Go Chanyeol, go back inside, have fun and let me leave.. Let me go. " It was stupid to react like this, but you couldn't think straight at that moment and when his expression passed from worried to hurt, the guilt began to eat you slowly.  

Without knowing how you could get rid of the grip of his arm around your waist, making two steps back and seeing him clench his fists along his hips, while his expression became increasingly harsh and dark.  

"Tell me why you're acting like that."  

"Why you're acting like that Chanyeol? You've always said you hate people who try hitting shamelessly on you without even knowing you. Why? "  

"Fuck, I was just trying to make you jealous!"  

That phrase had the power to suck all the air from your lungs, while a dull pain began to breakdown every single conviction you had ever had.  

"What should I do Y/N, to let you understand?? What? I asked for advice to anyone, Minseok and Junmyeon Hyung kept saying I had to give up because you... You're too focused on yourself. But how could I? " He began to say, trying to keep calm but anger had begun to boil in him and for a second you feared him because you had never seen Chanyeol reduced in that state; "How could I ignore what I was feeling? What I feel. And tonight I thought that if maybe.. Maybe if I made you jealous, you'd have noticed me. Now, why the fuck are you acting like this? Tell me! "  

Some people out of the bar turned to you two, curious to see what was going on and you saw even the girl with whom he had tried to make you jealous.  

And now it was your turn to get angry, because you felt so inferior to that girl because she was getting the attention you've been craved for months, realizing how wrong he was.  

"You could have told me."  

"Hypocrisy is not a good thing." Murmured a voice in the shadows and your roommate, one of the people you trusted most, lingered under a street lamp while the color disappeared completely from your face. "Tell him that he could confess his feelings is hypocritical, Y/N... Because you're the first that has long kept him hidden that you are in love with him."  

You smiled bitterly, making another two steps backward while the circle that had formed around you whispered something that you didn't understand. You were mad at her for saying what you confided her so openly, but you were more upset with yourself because she was right.  

The most hypocritical of all was you.  

"Y/N.."  

"Yes, I'm hypocritical. I kept hiding for more than a year that I love you because I was scared. Ironic no?? If I had the courage to tell you everything, maybe we wouldn't be at this point. " Your voice broke in half a sentence, while you were trying to catch your breath; "But you.. You don't realize how I felt about seeing you with that girl. You don't realize how I felt. Inferior to her. I will have been a coward, but at least I have never tried to hurt you Chanyeol.. Because, believe me, trying to make me jealous.. It was a low blow. "  

Chanyeol at your side remained quiet, too upset by how the events had turned to be able to say something, while you watched him for a handful of seconds. You would have wanted, with your lips, to erase the pain that had turned its lines in the last minutes but without saying anything else you turned and started to walk in the direction of the campus.  

No one followed you and a sense of melancholy began to surround you, catching you into his trap. You were alone when the only thing you wanted at the time was hiding into his arms and forgetting the world.  

~ ~

It had been four days since the night of the "confession" and you had completely ignored your roommate, still furious with her being stepped into something that didn't regard her. Chanyeol, he was a different case. He hadn't looked for you, you hadn't seen him in class and every time you saw him in the hallway he turned and disappeared into the crowd. He wanted to avoid you and let him do it, because any way you weren't the only one with a huge amount of information to digest.  

The lessons passed quickly and without realizing you found yourself wandering the streets of the city, ignoring the duty to study and enjoying the day. You wanted to distract yourself and shopping was the best solution.  

Your gaze rested on a showcase and on an old-fashioned watch, so you entered and looking around you realized that that watch was the only thing that had really aroused your attention.  

You bought it without even thinking that you should have eat ramen for more than three months to return the expense, thanking the clerk and leaving with a mood lighter than usual.  

"You just bought a male watch, Y/N? I didn't know you had some taste. "  

"Hello, Minseok-ssi.." You bowed your head as a sign of respect and greeting, while Minseok's baby face softened and he gave you a slight pat on the shoulder.  

"Stop with formalities, we've known each other for years now."  

"But we've never really been friends."  

"You reject anyone who is not Chanyeol, Y/N." He remarked and smiled amused, while began to walk with you to the campus to return to the boring life of the student.  

"I never realized it, actually..."  

"We can always fix it. And let me tell you something, please talk to Chanyeol because I can't stand him anymore. "  

His statement caught you by surprise and you stopped, forcing him to stop and you watched him carefully trying to figure out what he was referring to. You nervously run your hand through your hair, biting your bottom lip and feeling the clock's packet suddenly becoming heavy.  

You had bought a male watch because the only thing you imagined seeing it was that on Chanyeol's wrist it would have been perfect.  

"Minseok, it's he who ignores me."  

"WHAT?!?!?!"  

"That is, I'm letting him do it, but every time he sees me change direction and disappears..."  

"Aish, that little brat." He swore, while he grasped your wrist and started running towards the campus and you were forced to run behind him, feeling the fatigue after even a few seconds.  

"Minseok, I don't work on my body like you, I'm dying, slow down!!!"  

"We can’t, try to hold on!" He yelled at you and you grunted, trying to keep his pace despite the fatigue.  

After not even ten minutes you were in the male area of the dorms and you could understand Minseok's plan, starting to tug him hoping to free your wrist from his grip.  

"No, Minseok.. please.. "  

"This story has to end or I swear I'll become a murdered. I can't stand it anymore Y/N, it's my mental sanity that we're talking about!! "  

You sighed and let yourself be dragged without objecting, finding yourself in the middle of their room after even a few minutes.  

Chanyeol wasn't there and this offered you a few minutes to think about what to tell him because it was all so sudden and your mind seemed like atrophied from the idea of really dealing with him.  

"Hyung I went to buy a--"  

"Goodbye." It was the only thing Minseok said before he crossed his friend and locked him in the room with you, with the sound of the key that turned into the patch.  

You began to rock on your heels, trying to ignore Chanyeol but his gaze wandered on you, from time to time, and the redness on your cheeks began to become more intense at every second that passed.  

"Y/N.."  

"No, wait." You blocked him and finally found the courage to look him in the eye, having to just bend you face backward because he was too tall. "Let me talk first. I was a fool and I realize it but.. I was afraid to lose you. You're my best friend, and I couldn't afford to lose you. You understand? You're sweet, funny and you always make me laugh. You're the only one who understands me and even protects me from myself.. Can you imagine my life as it would become if you had decided to cut our friendship once discovered what I feel?? "  

"You deduced that I would have wanted to cut off everything.. Who gave you permission to do it? " He asked you and the redness, because of the embarrassment, increased. "You have decided in my place, Y/N. Without knowing that my life would be a hell without you. And that I love you. I love you from our second year of high School, Y/N. "  

"W-what..?"  

That confession made you even more upset than the one where he had admitted that he had tried to make you jealous, while your heart had decided that beating frantically was the best solution at the time.  

He filled the distance that separated you and towered upon you, clasping your hands in his with a delicacy that made you tremble from head to toe.  

"You never wondered why I was always trying to stay close to you, even if we weren't friends? Because I couldn't stay away, it was like stopping breathing. God this is really cringy.. " He hummed and smiled embarrassed, raising your hands and starting gently to kiss the knuckles of your hands. A simple contact that provoked violent shivers that ran down your spine.  

"And I was stupid a few nights ago. I thought it was the best thing, Y/N.. I'm a jerk, I'm sorry. "  

"The blame is also mine.. But God, I wanted to slap her. "  

"You're jealous, aren't you?" He whispered starting to bend towards you and you hold your breath, trying to calm the violent beat of your heart without good results.  

But he surprised you because he placed his lips on your forehead and without saying anything he left the grip on your hands and surrounded your waist with both arms, hiding you totally. He inspired the scent of your shampoo, which he had always loved, while you relished that moment, so perfect to seem almost surreal.  

"Can you become my girlfriend or do I still have to court you?" He asked after a few moments and you just moved your head, raising your gaze and meeting his amused grin.  

"Honestly?"  

He nodded, transforming his smirk into one of his smiles, the big and luminous and that could dissolve even the iciest heart of all.  

"I have no patience to let you court me because I already love you, so.."  

"So you're my girlfriend."  

"I would say yes." You confirmed him and he hid his face in your hair, lifting you and starting to turn on himself.  

From behind the door, you heard a little chorus of "Hallelujah" and you burst into laughter hiding your face against his chest, while he was blocking and noticing the package you had thrown on the bed before his arrival. He'll ignore his friends outside the door and always holding you in his arms picked up the package, show it in front of your eyes.  

"Oh.. It's for you. I saw it and thought it was perfect for you.. "  

"You're already spoiling me, Y/N."  

"I'm your girlfriend, I can."

[askmicrowaveayem]

MAYEM: Just Like Me - Pt. 3

[Previous]

[Archive] [Cast]

Oh yeah.

This was a good room.

At least, it was until he got a good look at Papyrus.

He broke away from Sans, heading towards the kid and settling down between him and the cooler, staring down at the goop.

He gave the kid a long look, waiting for him to talk first.

--

Papyrus sniffled and wiped any remaining tears away before looking down at the cooler. “GASTER IS BACK. SANS IS HERE NOW.” He hugged his legs a little tighter, pulling them up against his chin. Sans took a seat in front of them both, his eyes vacantly staring into the cooler that contained their father.

“SANS IS OKAY.” --

Gaster sighed.

“Papyr̨us,̨” he said after a moment.  “w̡h̷y͝ ͝do͠ņ't͝ you̵ ҉an͡d San͏s̸ r̵est̡?͠ I̸t'̢s͠ ̷bee̢n͟ ͟a̕ lo͡ng ̀dáy̧.̸ I'll ̧look a̸ft̨er͏ Go͜o͡p.͜”

It wasn’t the best argument, but it might work. “He͏'l͝l̸ ͘be o͞k̕ay. ͟H͠ȩ ̶p̴r̕o͟babl͏y ̵j̸ust͟ nee͏d̕s͠ s͝om͜e t͞im͠e ͜tǫ rest, ́ţơo.͢”

He had to do something to soothe these kids, though.

--

Papyrus glanced at Gaster, then down at the cooler. For a moment it looked like he was about to disagree. He didn’t want to leave his dad’s side. “dad’ll be here when we wake up.” Sans tried to encourage, looking dead in more ways that just being tired. “you want me to sleep with you tonight?” The taller skeleton hesitated for a moment before nodding and standing up. “ok.” Sans took his brother’s help getting to his feet and gave Gaster a thankful look before holding Papyrus’ hand and walking back to his room.

--

Gaster watched them go.

He hoped they got some sleep. Still, once they were gone, he turned and looked down at the cooler, muttering, “Y͘ou better̕ ǵet b̵et͜t̢e͏r̡ ̧qu͜ic̷k ̕a̡n͝d ̛ap̧ol̶ogi͢z̛e ́f͏or ̀ḿąk͏in̷g ̨P͏ap̡ỳru̸s͞ c̷ry͘,̷ ̧yoư ̕pi̵éce͟ o̧f ͞s̕hiţ.”

Then he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

--

Gaster would be waiting all night. There wasn’t the slightest stir, the slightest movement, a single bubble. The slime was still from dusk to dawn. Early the next morning birds were chirping happily outside the window, sunlight shining through a set of blinds that looked like they had been broken at an odd angle at one point and never fixed. Yet still the goo didn’t move. Papyrus was the first one awake. His footsteps broke the silence, stopping just outside the door before he slowly cracked it open and peered inside. He looked like he barely managed any sleep at all. --

Gaster had lost his form over the night, but at the sight of Papyrus, burbled back into shape and tried to smile up at him. He hadn’t slept at all. He may have forgotten how. “...̴ģo̡ e͜aţ ҉bręa͘kfast Papy̵rus͜.̧ ͜H̡e͝'͢s s͜ti̷l̀l͘ he̶r͠e̕.”

--

Papyrus lingered for a moment before speaking, his voice abnormally quiet for what it usually was. “DID HE SAY ANYTHING?” --

Slowly, Gaster shook his head.

He couldn’t lie right now.

--

Papyrus tensed his lower jaw and was soon gone, turning away from the door and walking down the hall into the kitchen. He made himself cereal even though he really didn’t feel like eating. He hated cereal. He found it to be a lazy start to the day and so much worse than a healthier breakfast with fruit. He tried to make up for it by slicing a banana into it. Without even thinking he started some coffee. Dad always liked coffee. Sans did too. He hated it. --

Gaster sighed and went back to watching the cooler.

Surely his twin wouldn’t be gone much longer, right? He really was stable, and not slowly breaking down… right?

He smelled coffee and wondered, vaguely, if pouring a cup in his twin’s goop would hurt anything.

Might give him some motivation

The jerk.

--

Eventually the sound of Sans waking up broke the sound of the coffee maker bubbling away. His slippers shuffled along the hallway. They didn’t even bother to stop at Gaster’s door. He went into the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee, the two brothers sitting in painful silence as they wondered what they were supposed to do now other than wait. Wait and see if their dad could bounce back from this. The lab was a mess. The time machine was broken. Their father was in shreds. At one point Sans and Papyrus had been able to live rather happily just the two of them. It was normal even. But now… Now… There was no Gaster reading the news beside them. There was no talk of their plans for the day. There were no puns being shot back and forth to annoy Papyrus. There was no nagging for Gaster or Sans to take better care of themselves. There was just silence. --

Was. Was this really happening?

The morning stretched on, and still, the goo didn’t move. He was enjoying the quiet, even if he wasn’t used to it, picking out a thousand small sounds in the humming of the house and the bustling outside he wouldn’t have noticed back when he were actually alive, but--but now it was starting to grate on him. Just sitting here, waiting.

He cursed, loudly.

And he reached out with his magic, trying to at least brush against his twin’s soul without shattering it.

They were basically the same person, right?

He just needed to know if anything was actually healing.

He needed to know if anyone else really had to die.

--

Gaster was… in a very strange state. His soul was still splintered into pieces, the void now coiled around each part tightly and keeping them from drifting apart further than they had already, but they were still just pieces. They had barely moved together since the night before. He was there but he wasn’t. The very, very basic imprint of Gaster was there, barely holding the pieces together, but aside from that tiny speck of who he was there was nothing.

No personality. No snark. No being.

It was just desperation. Desperation clung the pieces together with strength that was barely there. It was trying to pull them together but it was… so hard and he was so, so tired. So weak. Gaster was stretched to his limits, only the basic fundamentals of who he was keeping his soul from shattering completely.

--

Haha. That was funny. It. It kind of felt like. His twin was just a speck of panic in a void.

That was really fucking funny.

He heard the sound rising again. In his head. Just. Screaming no.

Because death happened. He knew that. His twin knew that. They’d both come as close to death as any freak of nature possibly could, and he’d just gotten back, he’d just gotten to hug his twin, this wasn’t fucking fair--

Magic laced over him like lightning, and he plunged his hands into the goop that once made up his double’s body.

He found the parts of his double’s soul.

And he pulled.

--

There was nothing to stop his twin from doing what he wanted. Gaster didn’t have enough awareness of his surroundings to even know what was going on that wasn’t mere inches from his soul. He could feel the pieces being pulled together. Without even thinking the goo coiled and coiled and coiled around those broken pieces to tug them closer and closer. --

It was surprisingly easy to find the cracks in the soul. The rigid edges where they’d broken off. The places where it all was meant to fit. Maybe because he was looking at something substantial in a pit of nothing. But he kept pulling, his movements slowly as the pieces came closer and closer together, and he tried to guide them into the right places, matching faults against faults and breaks against breaks.

It was like a puzzle. The sort bother their Papyruses would’ve liked. It was a lot worse than a puzzle.

He held the pieces in place, refusing to let them pull apart. Only letting them shift to better fit together.

--

As the pieces pulled together and slowly started to settle, the void filling in the cracks and gluing it all together, Gaster came back a little. It wasn’t in one piece, it still had a lot of work before it would be healed, but he… felt a little like himself. A vague idea of himself.

The goo around his double’s arms seemed to tighten in the only hug he could manage. --

The hug was faint. But he could still feel it. He didn’t know how to respond, but he--

He left his arms in the goo, laid his forehead down against the edge of the cooler, and tried very hard not to cry.

His double was alive.

--

For as long as his twin kept his arms inside of what made up his body, it would hold onto him. He couldn’t hear him or even really feel him, but he knew he was there. He knew there were arms holding him together. He clung to them, using them to anchor what little consciousness he had managed to piece together now that his soul was pushed into a pile. It was a pile he could work with. He was exhausted and didn’t know how the fuck he was still even existing but he clung to that small idea and refused to let go. There were things happening around him and that was all that mattered. He refused to let go. --

Gaster didn’t leave.

He couldn’t. Not when he knew his twin was holding onto him.

More hours passed, and he didn’t leave the room. He didn’t deactivate his magic. He didn’t let go.

He wouldn’t until he knew for sure his double would be okay if he did.

--

Both the boys had sort of resigned themselves that their father wasn’t doing anything, at least until mid-afternoon. They had just sort of meandered around the house trying to busy themselves while waiting for their father to maybe, somehow, pull himself together. Sans was the next to check on them. He cracked the door open and looked surprised at the position his dad’s double was in. Inside the cooler Gaster was still clinging to his twin’s arms, steadily trying to glue his consciousness back together as the hours passed. --

Gaster jolted as the door opened, but didn’t look up. If Sans looked closely, the faint tinge of magic was still visible. He’d been at it for hours, trying to keep a steady, safe pressure on the shards of his twin’s soul, and it was certainly beginning to take its toll, even if the actual amount of magic spent was miniscule. He kept his focus. It was always easier to have only one thing to focus on. Or maybe it wasn’t? Not always. But that’s what he’d learned.

Just focus on the one thing. Slip the note into the machine at the exact right instant. It’ll all be okay and nothing will hurt as long as he could just keep focused.

--

Sans hovered in the doorway for a moment and fought with himself over whether or not to ask what was going on. But… he trusted the other Gaster. Maybe he was helping him in ways they couldn’t. As the sound of Papyrus’ footsteps drew near he looked back and gently closed the door to give them peace. “ANYTHING?” “nah. they’re just… resting.” There was silence. “... OKAY.” Their footsteps went back down the hall. --

… “Do you remember your kids?”

He didn’t expect a reply. He didn’t know if anyone was listening. But it had long gone quiet except the sounds of the house and the rush of his own magic. That was too quiet.

“Sans and Papyrus. They love you a lot. They’re worried about you.”

“If you don’t reform soon, Papyrus is probably going to cry again. I know he wants to hug you, right now. He’ll be okay. But he misses you.”

“Sans misses you, too. You used to make puns with him over the table. You got my Sans into the habit when you stayed with us for two weeks. I think our Papyruses bonded over the pain.”

“When you come back, you should come with me when I meet my kids again.”

“I missed them a lot. I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you. About how you got me out.”

“...We have a lot to catch up on.”

“...I’m glad we had some time, in the void. Even if it wasn’t enough.”

“I was glad for it.”

--

At first the other’s voice was nothing, but as time drew on it became a tiny vibration, then a murmur, then whispers. At first it was just noises, but then it became words. Words he understood. The void climbed his arms ever so slightly and a small mound pushed at the surface. It was without a face or any color, little more than a lump growing from the blackness. It shook and leaned from side to side. His… kids… They… needed… him? P...a...p..y...r...u.s…. Ssss...a….n...ss… He tried to pull his thoughts together, to make them something coherent. He was trying so, so hard. --

Gaster realized the difference immediately, and nervousness wracked through his body.

“...they miss you. But they’re okay. No one’s hurt. A few bumps, but it was all healed fine.”

“They just want you to get better as best you can. I can. I can try to call them in. Maybe you can feel them, too?”

--

The mound leaned heavily to one side before losing all form and falling back into the cooler. Shit. … Wait a minute. Shit. Shit! His consciousness came crashing back. He was pissed. He was annoyed. He was IN A FUCKING COOLER WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS. --

He jerked his hands out of the enraged goop as if they were burned, but he was laughing.

“You!! Piece of shit!” he shouted, laughing louder. He could probably be heard in the rest of the house, if Sans and Papyrus were still even around.

-- Hah. Gaster couldn’t form anything yet, but his consciousness was there, which is what mattered most. The sound of feet running down the hall drew closer, Papyrus flinging the door open with Sans not far behind. “WHAT’S GOING ON?” He asked in a panic. --

“He’s there!” Gaster said, laughing, flopping backwards on the floor and letting his form go runny after spending so much time conscious and using magic. He was exhausted and hardly had it in him to keep his form together. “The bastard’s there again!!”

--

The fatigue and fear melted away from their faces. Papyrus darted into the room, skidding to a halt beside the cooler. “DAD ARE YOU REALLY THERE?” The slime made a very weak ripple. It was still very hard to concentrate on moving it and keep himself conscious at the same time. Papyrus grinned even wider and started to cry happily, his head resting on the edge of the container. Sans lingered in the doorway, looking shocked. Happy, but shocked. --

Gaster managed for one last moment to pull himself up again, flopping halfway on the container and sticking his hand in once more, not as deep as before, but still enough.

“Don’t fucking strain yourself, asshole. Just focus on getting better so we can kick your ass once you do, okay?”

--

Wow, rude. He was exhausted but felt like the last thing he wanted to do was ‘shut off’. He had been shut off for… he didn’t know. The last thing he remembered was scrambling into the time machine and then pain, then darkness up until now. Darkness and blurs of noises. He would ask later. He would also ask about what the hell his double had gone through. It clearly hadn’t been the void he knew of. … Why was he thinking about this shit. He needed to build a body again to GET OUT OF THIS FUCKING COOLER. --

He couldn’t understand his double, not really, but souls were essentially hubs of emotion, so he could feel that radiating off nice and clear.

He pulled his hand out before it started melting in his twin’s goop. That would just be weird. He sent a tired glance at Papyrus and Sans, his form shuddering to hold together as he did. “Let him know you’re here. I’ll try to do more when I wake up... “

He didn’t even bother trying to move away from the cooler before he curled up and passed out.

--

“OKAY.” Papyrus said, tears in his eye sockets. “THANK YOU.” The two knelt beside the cooler, Papyrus being the first to hesitantly dip his phalanges into the black slime. It was deathly cold, but he didn’t seem to mind. Gaster hugged his fingers as best he could, then did the same with Sans as he put his hand in. It was cold. But it was warm too. Warm knowing that their dad was alive. Without even meaning to the brothers found themselves finally getting some sleep too. Some decent sleep. Sans curled up on the other side of the cooler while Papyrus slept with his head resting along the rim, one hand ‘holding’ onto his dad.

--

It was hours later--a whole day later?--when Gaster finally woke.

It took him a long while to realize why he was waking up in the first place. That what he’d just experienced was sleep. To remember why everything was so… easy to process.

Longer, to reform his body.

He glanced at the cooler, hopeful, and hoped again that Sans and Papyrus’ friends hadn’t decided to stop around to check in and weren’t going to get any unpleasant surprises by there being two Gasters, and one of them a puddle.

--

Sans and Papyrus had a good nap around their dad, but had eventually woken up in the middle of the night and decided to use their actual beds. The following morning had been cheerful. Papyrus made a nice, healthy breakfast and a fresh pot of coffee, then went on his regular morning jog after saying good morning to his dad. Sans had done much the same, only his breakfast was anything but healthy and there was no morning jog to speak of. Downstairs the loud noises of a one-sided telephone conversation could be heard. Papyrus was talking to someone who he was good friends with apparently, telling them all about what had happened but how now their dad was back and okay. The cooler beside Gaster had a  small mound sticking out of it. It was a sloped pair of what could perhaps be called shoulders and a white, melting face. It stared down at him before the v-shaped mouth turned upwards with what looked like some effort into a dumb smile. He couldn’t manage words or the shapes to sign, but he was thinking, ‘hah. you’re a goop now too.’ --

He could hear Papyrus’ conversation from all the way in the back room, and hoped those friends (whoever they were) would be polite enough to… not come.

Still, he grinned back down at the tiny smiling lump he found in the cooler, saying, “Glad to see you too, moron. Need anymore help, there?”

--

Gaster shook his head slowly. His soul was… well, not great, but it would do. He wasn’t sure if he could ever manage to get it back in too great a shape. But he was alive. He was conscious. That’s what mattered. He wanted to talk and ask his double about everything, but he couldn’t. There had been no sleep or rest for him, he was too scared to relax enough for fear of slipping away again. Rest could happen when he was mostly back to normal. For now he clung to consciousness as hard as he could. --

Gaster smiled a bit at the response. That was good. If his double felt things weren’t about to break apart at the seams, that was good.

Still. There had to be another way to help out. Smooth the process just a bit. Back home, he was about as close to an expert on souls as he could get, but that was there and this was here. And he had to adapt to fit to their rules. “I’m going to check on your kids and see if there’s anything else I can do. You hold on.”

--

Gaster nodded. Down the hall in the living room Papyrus was walking around while talking to someone named ‘Undyne’ on his cellphone. Sans was sat on the couch watching TV. He smiled as he spotted the second goop coming down the hall. “dad doin’ okay?” Papyrus stopped in his tracks. “OH HOLD ON UNDYNE, THE OTHER DAD IS AWAKE.” He put his hand over the receiver and looked at his father’s double, eagerly waiting his answer.

--

Gaster nodded quickly, putting his hands up in reassurance. He’s fine. He was making faces at me and everything.

He glanced between them both, unsure of who to direct the question to. Do either of you know someone in this universe who understands a lot about souls? Otherwise, I may ask the Queen, but… I was hoping they might know something to help make things easier.

--

Both boys grinned, then looked at one another. Papyrus didn’t know much, so he politely excused himself to continue his phone call. “HE’S DOING GOOD! MAKING FACES, APPARENTLY. … YEAH PROBABLY SCARY ONES.” “honestly? yeah. probably tori. she’s the only one i can think of.” Sans shrugged, then looked a little uncomfortable. “she won’t like helping him out, but… yeah. she’s your best bet. not even dad knows that much about souls. he mostly focused on the determination inside them.” --

Your father and I are going to have a long talk about missing the forest for the trees, then, Gaster said, already feeling better about the prospect of arguing with his double. Then, he hesitated. ...She won’t harm him, right?

--

Sans smirked at that, but it fell a little at mention of Toriel harming Gaster. “... no. not how he is now. i don’t think she’d hurt anyone unless frisk was involved.”

--

… Gaster nodded. All right. Could you ask her for help?

--

Sans nodded and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. “you want her to come over?” --

Gaster nodded. That might be simplest.

--

Sans nodded for a second time and dialed Toriel. “mornin’ tori. yeah i’m fine. feelin’ pretty good. dad’s doin’ good now too. well. y’know. ‘good’.” He paused while listening to her talk, rubbing at his skull; a habit he had picked up from his father. “actually i was wondering if you could come over. yeah. the other g has questions about souls. healing ‘n stuff.” “... yeah. yeah it’d really help out. i know. i appreciate it more than you know. yep. yeah of course. ok. see ya soon.” He hung up and turned to Gaster. “she’ll be over in about 20 minutes or so.” --

Gaster nodded once again. Thank you. I’m sure it will be helpful. And if not, it won’t hurt to try and consider the avenue, at least.

--

“yeah. so is that what you were doin’ in there the other day?” Sans asked, “you looked pretty intense so… i left ya alone. but i’m curious.” --

Gaster shuffled a bit, looking slightly embarrassed. ...I might have just… shoved his soul back together? And held it there until it stayed?

--

Sans blinked, then turned back to face the TV and chuckled. “well okay then. good job. guess it worked.” “thanks.” --

“I mean, in retrospect, there’s a lot of reasons it could’ve worked that I should’ve thought of sooner, but--” Gaster said, switching to words as Sans turned away before the last part struck him.

“...No. I’m glad I could help.”

--

Sans’ smile tugged a little higher. “well i hope tori can help out the last stretch. i’m sure dad hates bein’ in that cooler.” He really fucking did hate being in this cooler. --

Gaster found himself smiling back. “Does he end up in there often?”

--

Sans laughed, “first time, actually. but every time we have a rough landing in the machine his harness goes right through him. he refuses to ‘be kept in a fucking soup can’.” --

Gaster shook his head. “Please shove him in a soup can. For me. Just once.”

--

“i’ll give it an honest attempt if you can find one big enough to contain his big fat head.” Sans smirked. --

Gaster grinned. I’ll do my best, but that’s going to be a challenge, even for me.

He paused and thought.

Maybe I can invent one. It probably doesn’t exist yet.

He nodded, as if agreeing with his own thought.

I’m going to go draw up diagrams for that. Please let me know when the Queen arrives and don’t let her kill me. I like being alive again.

--

Sans chuckled at the thought of intentionally inventing a giant soup can for the soul purpose of shoving his dad into it. He knew how much he hated the idea of being shoved into something just because of his… consistency.

“you’ll be fine. it’s dad i’m worried about.” He said, his smile wavering a little. “like pap said, not… many people get along with him. maybe i should call alphys. she’s about the only one outside of the family that he enjoys being around.”

--

Gaster looked over his shoulder, a little curiously. He knew his double could be hard to get along with, but… nearly everyone having that similar a reaction to him? It sounded like there was something a bit more complicated than incompatibility going on.

He wasn’t going to be the fucking shrink to everyone in this world to fix those relationships. No way. But if anyone tried to talk shit about Goop, he’d be perfectly happy putting them down.

If you think that’s a good idea, then do it. I’ll do my best to make sure no one tries anything, then?

Probably having a witness would dissuade most people, at least. Either way. He had to at least prepare a bit, in this case, if things were as bad as they sounded.’

--

Sans nodded and left it at that. Maybe his dad could explain it once he got his hands back. The goop sat in his cooler, having spent the time grabbing his tablet with a noodly appendage off the desk behind him and set it beside him. Until he could manage some fingers or something the best way to communicate would be typing on the screen, he figured. --

Gaster returned to the room and was both surprised and relieved to find the tablet had moved.

“Been busy?” He said. It seemed better to speak aloud until he was more certain the other Gaster could actually see him to read signs.

He headed over and found some clean paper and pens, taking them to the floor beside the cooler and sitting down with them.

--

Gaster nodded slowly at him, turning to watch what his double was doing. He couldn’t see very well, but shapes and movement was good enough for now. Getting his sight back fully wasn’t high on his list of priorities. Hands were first. A vine-like piece of void reached up and typed out ‘how are boys’. --

Gaster read it, grinning. “They’re fine. Doing a lot better, now that they know you’re okay. Papyrus is talking to… Undyne on the phone. Sans is out in the kitchen.”

--

He nodded once more. It was nice to know they were doing alright. Gaster felt bad for making them so upset, but he could barely remember what had happened. Which raised the question… ‘what happened’. He typed, then added, ‘got in machine then all blank’. --

He sucked in a deep breath, grin fading. ...That thing got you. It attacked your Soul, but you still activated the machine and got us out safely.

He wanted to emphasize that point. Because what had happened hadn’t been a failure on his double’s part. If anything, it’d been a fucking victory they all survived. The ship landed badly and rolled. Sans got a concussion and you lost all form. We took Sans to The Queen  to heal and Papyrus took you home. It’s been about two days since then. They’re both fine, now. You’re the last one injured.

--

Gaster nodded, as long as the boys were alright then everything was okay. He looked at his double for a moment and typed, ‘you were very loud there. might have tipped it off. but its ok. everyone ok.’ He managed a tired smile, ‘youre goop now. hah’. --

Gaster restrained his initial reaction to flick the goo. His double didn’t need that.

But it gave him a moment to think through a response, and a grin spread over his face.

“That’s true. We may need new nicknames, now that I’m also goop. I can still use ‘Kidster,’ but maybe you need something new…. Dumpster.”

He rapped his knuckles against the cooler.

--

Gaster’s melty face looked distraught and he shook his head before typing ‘terrible no’. --

“You’ll get used to it, Dumpster,” he said, still grinning.

He wondered how long it had been since Sans called Toriel. “...I should. Um. Probably tell you another thing before you get a nasty surprise.”

--

He cocked his head a little to the side curiously. --

“...Toriel’s coming over to help me figure out soul healing.”

--

Gaster looked annoyed, or as annoyed as he could with a barely functioning face. ‘she wont want to help me. why’ --

“Are you saying you’ve never done something you didn’t want to do before?” Gaster asked. “She’s coming because Sans asked, and she knows you’re important to him.  It sounds like I studied souls more extensively than you did, but it isn’t my universe and I need someone knowledgeable about both souls and healing to help me double check myself. The Queen fits the bill.”

He looked a little abashed, just in case. “...Your soul’s pretty fucked up. I want to help it along as best I can, and maybe the damage will heal some, or at least not leave permanent marks. “

--

He would have grumbled but lacked any way of doing so.

‘fine’ He typed, sinking a little back into himself. Gaster didn’t want to expose his soul to Toriel. The only ones who had ever seen it were his sons and his double. Toriel and him didn’t get along. Showing his soul was private and personal and he didn’t trust her as much as she didn’t trust him. After a moment he changed the subject, ‘went to see you. saw your sans. told me what happened’. Gaster wasn’t sure if his double knew that, but… probably. He had been infinite everything, right? Had he seen that? … Had he seen every dumb, embarrassing thing he had ever done since the accident? Shit.

--

Gaster had no plans to let anyone even potentially dangerous touch or see his double’s soul, unless it turned out it was necessary.

But he also wasn’t about to let himself do something stupid to his double because he didn’t want to ask for help.

At the change of subject, he smiled a bit again, even if it was a bit strained. “Yeah, I think I remember… that….”

His smile dropped and his eyes widened. “...I think I remember that?”

Oh no. Oh no. He’d been asking questions instead of just knowing.

Fuck.

--

Gaster suddenly looked worried; ‘ok?’ --

“...I’m forgetting things,” he said, rubbing at the crack around his skull. “...I… I knew things, there. Important things, but I don’t… they’re not all there anymore.”

--

He gestured down to the pen and paper he had brought over with him before sitting by his side. ‘write’ Forgetting every infinite thing wasn’t… that bad. Infinite was a pretty big deal. But the important stuff you learned while being that way mattered. If he could get it all down before it slipped away, maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. ‘before accident most important. boys most important’ He typed, hoping that those memories while he was ‘alive’ weren’t slipping away too. --

Gaster nodded and abandoned the conversation, bending over the papers and beginning to frantically write.

Really, when you turned your head and squinted at it, they didn’t look all that different from the half-mad ramblings pinned up around Gaster’s room.

--

Gaster fell silent. He knew what it was like getting into a frenzy and hurriedly jotting something down before you forgot, or the idea slipped away. While his twin frantically scribbled he went back to concentrating on himself. Maybe he could manage a pair of hands today. --

Gaster kept writing. Half-remembered names, codes, patterns, histories--the things he’d wondered for so long during his first life. And a little more, sometimes.

He would keep writing until he was interrupted.

[proxylynn]

Dreemurr Academy #12 (Undertale Gaster)

Dreemurr Academy, a prestigious closed-off college for monsters and humans alike of all ages and worlds.

This includes myself, though I'm sort of an in-between.

I'm Lynsie, the human anomaly. I'm a human, but I can do magic like monsters. I'm an oddball.

That's the thing about making a school that is open to multiple alternate dimensions. Weird things are bound to show up. Even a bunch of the same person. From what I saw on orientation day, the same faces are scattered around all around.

To fix these type of issues, everyone that has a multiple or doppelganger is given a school name so there's no confusion.

Other than that, it's fairly normal. The hierarchy is the simple.

The Deans are made up of the same people, skeleton monsters that go by the name of Gaster. One is a teacher of the Sciences, goes by Wingding. He's a kind and understanding man but is known to pull a prank or two. They all speak in a typeface sign language but use telepathy magic so others understand. It's been said no one has ever heard their real voices and those that have are no longer at the academy.

Another Gaster dean teaches Home Economics, he goes by Wingy. He's a bubbly sweet guy that loves his work. Nothing makes him smile more than seeing the joy on a student's face when they take pride in being able to do something they first thought they couldn't.

Another Gaster dean teaches the studies of Magic, he is called Fall. At times, he can be cynical, malicious, and sarcastic. He has a commanding presence that exuded gravitas, authority, and control, able to keep a class quiet without effort. Yet there is a kindness to him, it's rarely seen, but not unheard of.

Another Gaster dean teaches History, his nickname is Dings. A cold, bitter, and sometimes childish man. He tends to hold grudges against troublesome students and is extremely spiteful toward those whom he dislikes. Yet those that can take his punishments are rewarded with his respect. He is a teacher that commands respect and whose grades are earned with doom hanging over your head.

The Professors are also skeleton monsters, but not all are the same person. The Psychology professor is a guy named Papyrus but goes by Stretch. He's the favorite among students because he's so laid back. He chews a toothpick in class to suppress his urge to smoke, but we all know he does so when on break. He's really good at reading students and helps out when able. All in all, he's the cool teacher.

The Literature professor is a Papyrus that is called Fell. He is the one teacher everyone dreads. Very strict and old-fashioned. He does not tolerate interruptions and will humiliate those he feels need to be taken down a notch. Such things take their toll on him and often squeezes a stress ball that he keeps on his desk. But he is a very passionate man when it comes to his work and takes his subject seriously, even though this makes him into a bit of a grammar nazi which is why many students get low grades.

The Biology professor is a skeleton called Sans that sometimes goes by Classic, whatever that means. He is very cheesy and comes off as lazy, making puns that have people cringe yet secretly love them. He is very protective of his students and will go out of his way to help them. He does not tolerate bullying of any kind and can be quite scary. He's the second favorite among the students.

The Physical Education professor is also a Sans that goes by Pain. He is also a stern and old school type of teacher, only he tends to be crueler in the humiliation of students that are unprepared. While his scope is all around, he prefers the darker side of the study. Using borderline violence to weed out the weak that think taking his class is an easy A. There is mercy in his dojo, but it must be earned with blood, sweat, and tears.

The Students are broken into four groups based on which part of the four years they are currently in. The first years are called freshmen. Second years are sophomores. Third years are juniors. And fourth years are seniors. There are some variations on this topic, but this hierarchy of college students is still readily recognizable by everyone.

Me? This isn't my first rodeo but not my last. I'm a sophomore and have gotten the gist of who's who and what's what. I get along with students and teachers. I've always been a middle ground type of girl.

I didn't come looking for friends, but they just seemed to find me. Funny enough, my buddies are the brothers of the professors. Stretch's brother is a freshman, his name is Sans but goes by Rascal. Fell's brother, also a Sans, is a sophomore like me and goes by Edgy. Classic's brother is a Papyrus, a freshman that goes by Papy. And Pain's brother is a sophomore Papyrus by the name of Slim.

I've always been a tomboy. I prefer the company of guys. They're different and fun, even if they can be a bit odd sometimes.

Rascal, as the nickname implies, is the school clown/prankster. He likes to test his limits and challenge authority, even dishevels his uniform to assert his individuality. He comes off as a slacker but secretly is very deep, clever, and loyal to a fault. He likes taking his brother's class so he can improve his skills with messing with people, mostly his brother as he disrupts his teachings when he sees a chance.

Edgy is shy around new people and slow to open up, enjoying a laugh with friends when able. Though he appears weak or even nerdy because of his glasses, he is far tougher than he leads on. He doesn't take crap from anyone. When alone, he's angsty and borders on straight up angry. Getting a pissy attitude when annoyed. Like his brother, he is very passionate about literature and does his best to impress his brother, going so far as to become the teacher's pet.

Papy is easily the most lovable guy in the whole school. Very cheerful and optimistic, he tries his best no matter what. He doesn't like conflict and tries to keep his brother out of trouble when the teacher pulls a prank. I find it sweet of him to take his brother's class even though he doesn't particularly enjoy it, just so he can stay close to him. Like I said, this guy is a lovable soul.

Slim is easy going. He doesn't take things too seriously and never breaks a sweat over hard exams. The only thing that breaks his cool is his smoking, he really gets tense if he goes too long without his fix. He's incredibly smart and instinctual, good traits to have when dealing with his brother. While he does attend his brother's class, he merely does so as a request of his brother who likes to make sure he doesn't slack off due to not being challenged enough.

All of them are oddly related to each other in some form. Gaster's, Papyrus's, and Sans's are brothers. Yet I see them all as different people. I value them. They're helping me even if they don't know it. I am not so confident in myself. I tend to isolate myself, go at things lone wolf style. It's how I've always been. Then I met them and slowly my world began to expand bit by bit. I'm still not comfortable with others. But with them, I can step out from behind my mask for a bit, and really be myself around them.

Today, however, is not a typical day. Normally my time at the academy is focused on learning, a common thing done at schools. I pay attention to the professors, make sure my grades never falter, and still manage to work in some free time to spend with my buddies or chill on my own. You know, normal things and such. But lately, I can't keep focus. Why? Those god damn preppies have made it their mission to get me kicked out!

Schools have many reasons that they expel students, from cheating to bullying to altercations with other students or teachers. They may expel students for lying, theft, or engaging in prohibited online behaviors. Students can even be expelled for actions as simple as leaving school grounds without permission or tampering with school property. In short, you name the rule, and there's probably a school from which a kid can get expelled for violating it. After all, schools are communities, and like communities everywhere, they have codes of conduct that they expect their members to abide by.

Rarely are students who are expelled for fundamentally non-threatening but prohibited behaviors, like cheating, first-time offenders. Like other kinds of transgressions, students typically begin cheating on a small scale, such as copying a classmate's answer on a homework assignment. When caught, teachers or administrators may initially respond with counseling, which they can then escalate to detentions or suspensions if the behavior persists. That said, schools that have zero tolerance policies always have the option of expulsion if a child breaks their rules.

Until the late 1990s, the term "zero tolerance" was rarely heard in an academic setting. Now, many students hear it from the time they begin kindergarten, and unfortunately, this is sometimes because they've faced this sanction at some point in their academic career. If the school adheres to a zero-tolerance policy, you should never take it lightly. In private schools today, we have zero tolerance because it seems we need zero tolerance. Our experience at Manhattan Private School Advisors is those unacceptable students, and even teachers, behaviors are widespread. Social media and the Internet have made bullying and other forms of abuse commonplace. Academic cheating and disrespectful behaviors toward others seem to be soaring, and that's only among the kids. What about the fourth-grade teacher who peppers her Facebook page with complaints about the spoiled students and demanding parents she deals with?

These types of behaviors create a culture in which students and adults alike become inured to seeing their peers skirt or flout codes of conduct. And for students who are caught breaking a school's rules, the consequences can be harsh: The most severe punishment for a zero-tolerance policy is expulsion. At times, this sanction may seem unfair, a result of a student being in the wrong place at the wrong time or just being "that unlucky one." Is it fair? Sometimes it certainly is, and sometimes it's not. Can thirty students cheat on the same test and only one get caught and end up expelled? Absolutely. This is, however, the reality of zero tolerance.

With Dreemurr Academy being a prestigious closed-off college for monsters and humans, zero-tolerance is a big deal. Monsters and Humans from different worlds, timelines, or realities make for stricter rules of conduct as what is acceptable in your dimension may not be same when on school grounds. It's a strong request from all sides, but understandable for the greater good of higher learning. The only issue with this comes from those that think they are more deserving of treatment because they feel entitled. These people are the preppies.

A preppy refers to a subculture associated with the old private Northeastern university-preparatory schools. The term is used to denote a person seen as characteristic of a student or alumnus of these schools. Prep has become a colloquialism in the United States and has largely replaced preppy in modern usage. Characteristics of preps in the past, include a particular subcultural speech, vocabulary, dress, mannerisms, etiquette, reflective of an upper-class upbringing. The term preppy derives from the private, university-preparatory or prep schools that some American upper class and upper-middle-class children attend. The term preppy is commonly associated with the Ivy League and oldest universities in the Northeast and the prep schools which fed students to them since traditionally a primary goal in attending a prep school was admittance into one of these institutions. Preppy fashion derives from the fashions of these old Northeastern colleges in the early to mid-twentieth century. Lisa Birnbach's 1980 book Official Preppy Handbook, which was written to poke fun at the rich lives of privileged Ivy League and socially elite liberal arts college students but ended up glamorizing the culture, portrays the preppy social group as well-educated, well-connected, and although exclusive, courteous to other social groups without fostering serious relationships with them. Being well-educated and well-connected is associated with an upper-class socioeconomic status that emphasizes higher education and high-income professional success.

There are three groups of preppy students at the academy. There are the preppies that accept everyone, these are the people you want as friends and they don't think of themselves as better than you. It's made up of middle to upper-middle-class monsters and humans. They've lived lives that showed them how things are different between the social classes. As long as you aren't a douche, they will like you.

The second preppy group is made up of only monsters. They like the high-standards of being a prep type student and uphold a dignified code. They are like those students you look up to. They try to keep the peace against their darker twin. The third preppy group is the enemy of everyone at the academy. It's made up of rich snobby humans that, even though they attend a monster created school that is run by monsters, believe only humans should attend and get the best the school has to offer. They look down on all, both students and teachers. But those they really hate are humans that dare see monsters as equals. This is where they target me.

I don't often speak my mind on the issue, but once I give voice, I make it very clear that I am pro-monster to the point I go anti-human. That and I may or may not end up having to kick several of their asses when they start something. If they pick on someone because of what species they are, I am there. If they try to steal money from a monster simply because they claim they'll "put it to better use", I am there. If they jump me into an ally and try to kick my ass, well duh, I'm there obviously...and winning.

Though now they've taken this personal feud to new levels by trying to have me kick off campus. I'm guessing they're starting to see me as a threat. The longer I stay, the harder it is for them to do as they please. So how do you get rid of a threat? You take it away. How? With expulsion. What is the difference between suspension and expulsion? The main difference between suspension and expulsion is the amount of time a student must stay out of school. A suspension can only last for up to ten days. An expulsion can last up to one year.

A year out of the academy will not only damage my grades but will free them to establish more hold on the school. If I miss that much time, there will be no way I can make up enough credits to finish. My scholarship will die. I will have lost out on the best education imaginable all because of some assholes? Heh...What do these fools take me for? They are so painfully obvious that it almost hurts to ruin things for them...Wow, I can hardly think that and keep a straight face. There's no way I'd be expelled. Because unlike these preppy fuck nuggets, I don't pay someone to do the research for me, I actually know the rules.

Who decides to expel a student? Usually, the Board of Education will hold a hearing so a decision can be made about whether or not to expel a student. At the hearing, a person or group of people will listen to what happened and make the decision to expel based on reports from the school, the student, and witnesses who saw what happened. The person or people making the decision at the hearing will usually be a neutral hearing officer such as someone from the community who doesn't work for the school district, or a neutral hearing board of three or more members of the Board of Education.

The Board of Education of Dreemurr Academy is made up of all the Dean Gasters and of course the Dreemurr family who founded the school. The Deans hold the majority of the power, what with them being at the academy constantly as opposed to the Dreemurrs. But the Dreemurrs are allowed to weigh in on the situation if they or the Deans deem it of significance. Examples would be if there were a threat to students or faculty, the facility itself, or the emotional well being of students or faculty that may cause repercussions that would be harmful to any person, place, or thing.

When can the Board of Education expel a student? A student must face immediate expulsion if he or she has a gun or other deadly weapon on school grounds or at a school activity, uses a firearm or other deadly weapon to commit a crime on or off school grounds, or sells (or tries to sell) illegal drugs on or off school grounds. A student may also be expelled if he or she breaks a school rule on school grounds or at a school activity, is disruptive or puts other people or things in danger on school grounds or at a school activity, or breaks a school rule off school grounds in a way that disrupts or prevents other students from learning.

If the Board of Education deems the case of expulsion to be legitimate then proper proceedings can begin and a school attended hearing date is set to allow those involved to make their case. The hearing must be held within 11 school days after he or she has been taken out of school. The only time a hearing can be skipped is if there is an emergency (for example, if the school believes a child is dangerous to himself or others if he stays in the classroom). The accused student has the right to get a written notice from the school before an expulsion hearing. The notice must explain which rule the school believes was broken and what the student did to break the rule. The notice must also tell you the date, time, and location of the hearing as well as how you can get an attorney to represent the student. If you don't have an attorney, you can bring someone else as an advocate.

You have the right to explain your side of the story at the hearing. You can bring witnesses with you and show evidence, such as documents that support your case. You have the right to question the witnesses that the school has invited to the hearing. You have the right to get copies of the documents that the school will be showing at the hearing. You can also get copies of written statements by teachers and witnesses. Make sure to ask for a copy of the student's entire school record, as there may be information in it that can help you. Asking to see your school record is helpful. As reading the record will help you understand what the school believes has happened. It should have information about the incident, including names of witnesses that the school might ask to testify at the hearing, and documents that the school may use as evidence.

What will happen at the hearing? While an expulsion hearing is not as formal as a court trial, it is a legal proceeding and it may be the only chance you get to tell your story. There is no right to appeal the hearing officer's decision in court if you are not happy with the outcome. The hearing will be recorded or someone will write down everything that is said like a courtroom stenographer. The hearing officer will listen while each party tells its side of the story and will then decide whether or not the student broke the rules, whether or not the student should be expelled, and how long the expulsion will last.

The school officials must show enough evidence to prove that expelling the student is reasonable. The school will go first in presenting its case against the student. It will need to prove that the student broke the rules by having a witness tell the facts to the hearing officer. The witness must be someone who actually saw what happened. For example, the principal or dean cannot tell the hearing officer, "I didn't see what happened, but the teacher told me so-so did it". A school official will ask questions of the school's witnesses. In addition to having witnesses say what they saw and heard, the school can show documents that support its position, including evidence about the accused student's past discipline problems.

If the school doesn't have a witness who was actually there when the incident took place, or if the school tries to prove its case using only written documents, be sure to point this out to the hearing officer. The student, his or her parents, or their representative may ask questions of (or cross-examine) the witnesses after the school official is finished questioning them. The purpose of cross-examination is to bring out additional information that might be helpful to the student's case. It will not help the student's case if you argue with a witness, even if you think he or she is not telling the truth. It is better for you and your own witnesses to explain what happened when it is your turn to speak.

Once each witness has spoken and any written evidence has been given to the hearing officer, each side may have a chance to make a final statement. This is your chance to briefly explain what you think happened and what you think should happen to you. Finish by asking the hearing officer not to expel you or to expel you for only a very short time if found guilty. To make the best possible presentation to the board, you will need to be prepared, organized, and polite. Angry words or behavior directed at the school officials or the board will only add additional stress to the situation and can even hurt your case.

Now with that little knowledge dump out of the way, what makes me so confident that I don't have to worry about any of this coming to pass? Easy really...I'm good friends with the faculty and their family. It's an unpleasant day in heaven if these fools can bring a charge against me that anyone in the academy would actually believe I would do. I'd have to have had amnesia to pull some of the crap they've tried to pin on me. From tagging lockers to keying faculty cars and even tampering with the science lab equipment. You name it, they've done it and tried to claim I did it. Which is why I sit in the Headmaster's office today instead of my bed where I should be at this hour. I am being accused of yet another bullshit wrong that I had no means of doing.

"And so you can clearly see, Headmaster...This...This swine has obviously made a mockery of this fine institution. I mean, just look at what she's done to the campus garden."

Lead douche preppy, Leighton Kingsley Emerson Winslow III, presents his overly expensive phone as evidence to Headmaster Wingding, who scrolls through said evidence.

"These pictures show that she trashed the once beautiful garden that everyone has worked so tirelessly to create and tend to for so long."

"Sir Headmaster, do I really need to be here? We know how this will go."

"Quiet, tart!"

"...You can get away with calling me a pig, but to call me a whore...Sir! You disgrace my honor. I challenge you to a duel."

He apparently does not like my mock French accent.

"You are a virus. Infecting this institution. But no more. Like a gangrenous limb, I shall see to it you are removed before you do any further harm."

"Eh. Whatever helps you to sleep at night, butt munch."

"Bite your tongue!"

" 🕆 ✏ 👌 ❄ ✡ 🕆📬📬📬 🕆💧❄ 👌 💧✋ ❄📬" (ENOUGH! BOTH OF YOU...JUST BE SILENT.)

"Yes, sir."

"Understood, Headmaster."

He fiddles around with the phone for a bit more before setting his eyes on Leighton.

"✌ 🕆 👎 🕈 ✌❄ ❄✋💣 ✌ ✡ 🕆 ✌👍👍🕆💧✋ 👎 ✋ ❄ ✋💧✍" (AROUND WHAT TIME ARE YOU ACCUSING HER OF DOING THIS?)

"I believe the incident accrued around ten or eleven PM. She would've had the cover of darkness and no witnesses to worry about."

"🕈 ✋ ❄ 🕆 📪 💧 🕈 🕆 👎 ✌ 💧 👎 ❄ 👌 ✌😐 ❄ 💧👍 🕆 👎💧📬" (WHILE TRUE, SHE WOULD ALSO NEED TO BREAK ONTO SCHOOL GROUNDS.)

Wingding pulls out some reports.

" 💣 👍 👎💧 ✋ 🏱✌✋ 🕯💧 👍 ✌💧💧 *ahem* 💧❄🕆👎 ❄ ✌🏱🏱 ✋ 💧 ✌❄ ❄ 👌🕆❄ ✌👍😐💧 🕆🏱🏱 🏱 ✡💧✋👍✌ 💧❄ ❄📬 💧 ✋💧 🕆 ✌👌 ❄ 💧🕆🏱🏱 ❄ 👌 👎✡ 💧 ❄ 🏱 ✋ 👎💧 ❄✋💣 📬 💧❄✌💣✋ ✌ ✋💧 ✌ 💧 ✌ ✋💧💧🕆 📪 💧❄🕆👎 ❄ ✋ 👎💧 ❄ 💣💧 ✞ 💧 🕆❄ 👌 ✌❄ ✌ ❄ ✡ ✋✞ 💣✋ 🕆❄ 💧 ✌👍❄✋✞✋❄✡📬" (FROM HER RECORDS IN PAIN'S CLASS *AHEM* STUDENT APPLIES GREAT EFFORT BUT LACKS UPPER PHYSICAL STRENGHT. SHE IS UNABLE TO SUPPORT HER BODY FOR SHORT PERIODS OF TIME. STAMINA IS ALSO AN ISSUE, STUDENT FINDS THEMSELVES OUT OF BREATH AFTER ONLY FIVE MINUTES OF ACTIVITY.)

"Wow, Pain. I know I'm not in the best shape, but did he really have to make it sound like I'm seconds from death's door?"

"So the girl is a sack of bricks. What does this have to do with anything?"

"❄ 🕈✌ 💧 ✌ 🕆 👎 ❄ ✌👍✌👎 💣✡ ✌ ❄🕈 ❄✡ ❄ ✋ 📬 👌✌💧 👎 ✌👌✋ ✋❄✋ 💧📪 💧 🕈 🕆 👎 👌 🕆 ✌👌 ❄ 👍 ✋💣👌 ✞ ✋❄📬" (THE WALLS AROUND THE ACADEMY ARE TWENTY FEET HIGH. BASED ON HER ABILITIES, SHE WOULD BE UNABLE TO CLIMB OVER IT.)

"Then she used a ladder."

" ✌👎👎 💣✌ 😐💧 🕈 🕆 👎 ✋ 🕆 💧 ✌ 👍 ❄ 🕆 👎💧📬 ✌ 👎 ✋ 💧 ✋ 👎 👎 👎✋👎 ✌ ❄ ✋💧 👎✌💣✌ 👌✡ 💧 📪 💧 🕈 🕆 👎 ✌✞ ❄ ✌✞ 👍✌ ✋ 👎 🕈✋❄ ❄ 💧 💧 💣 💧 ❄📬 ❄ 🕈 ✋ ❄ 🕈 🕆 👎 ✌❄ ✌💧❄ ✌✞ 💣✌ 😐💧📪 👌🕆❄ ❄ 🕈 📬" (NO LADDER MARKS WERE FOUND IN OUR SEARCH OF THE GROUNDS. AND IF SHE INDEED DID ALL THIS DAMAGE BY HERSELF, SHE WOULD HAVE TO HAVE CARRIED WITH HER TOOLS OF SOME SORT. THE WEIGHT WOULD AT LEAST LEAVE MARKS, BUT THERE WERE NONE.)

"Then she went through the gate."

" ✡ ✌👍🕆 ❄✡ ✌✞ ❄ ✌👌✋ ✋❄✡ ❄ 🏱 ✌❄ ❄ ✌❄ 📬 ✌ ✡ 🕆 💧🕆 💧❄✋ ❄ ✌❄ ✌ 💣 💣👌 💧❄✌ 🏱 👎 ✍" (ONLY FACULTY HAVE THE ABILITY TO OPERATE THE GATE. ARE YOU SUGGESTING THAT A MEMBER OF STAFF HELPED HER?)

"It must be if that is the only way."

"Dude, you are grasping at so many straws that it's sad."

"✋ ✌ 📬" (I AGREE.)

Leighton is not happy.

"Headmaster, you have the proof right there. Those images reveal her crime."

" 📪 ❄ ✡ 👎 🕯❄📬" (NO, THEY DON'T.)

"W-what?"

" ✡ 💧✋ 📬📬📬🕈 🕈 ✡ 🕆 ✌ 🕆 👎 ❄ 🕆 💧 ❄ ✌ 👎 ✞ ✌💧❄ ✋ ❄✍" (LYNSIE...WHERE WERE YOU AROUND THE HOURS OF TEN AND ELEVEN LAST NIGHT?)

"I was at the movies. Managed to catch a late night screening of Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 3."

"She's lying!"

"I have my ticket stub, douchelord."

"💧 🕈 💣 📬" (SHOW ME.)

I open my bag and take out my wallet. Rummaging through the pockets to produce said ticket stub and handing it over.

"Wha...Why would you just be carrying that?"

"I collect every movie ticket stub I get so that it helps me to remember the movie or get a refund if it sucked."

" 💣💣💣📬📬📬💧 ❄ ✋ ❄ ❄ 🕆❄ 📬 💣 🕈 💣 🕈 😐✋💧💧✡ 👍🕆❄✋ 🗏📬 💧❄✌ ❄✋ ✌❄ 🖲🖳🗐🗄 🏱💣 ✌ 👎 👎💧 ✌❄ 📂📂🖳📂🗄 🏱💣📬 💧 🕆 💧💧 💧 👍✌ 👌 ✋ ❄🕈 🏱 ✌👍 💧 ✌❄ 👍 📪 💧 👍 🕆 👎 🕯❄ ✌✞ 👍 💣💣✋❄❄ 👎 ❄ ✋💧 👍 ✋💣 📬" (HMMM...SHE TELLING THE TRUTH. MEW MEW KISSY CUTIE 3. STARTING AT 9:45 PM AND ENDS AT 11:15 PM. SO UNLESS SHE CAN BE IN TWO PLACES AT ONCE, SHE COULDN'T HAVE COMMITTED THIS CRIME.)

"B-but the pictures?!"

"✡ 💧📪 ❄ 💧 🏱✋👍❄🕆 💧📬 ❄ 💧 🏱✋👍❄🕆 💧 ✡ 🕆 🏱 📬" (YES, THESE PICTURES. THESE PICTURES ON YOUR PHONE.)

"A-are you implying I did this?!"

"I think it's fairly obvious at this point."

"✋ 👎 🕯❄ ✌✞ ❄ ✋💣🏱 ✡ ✌ ✡❄ ✋ 📬 ✡ 🕆 🏱 👍 💧💧 👎 ✡ 🕆📬 ✌👍 ❄✋💣 ✡ 🕆 ❄✌😐 ✌ 🏱✋👍❄🕆 ✋❄ 👍 ✌❄ 💧 ✌ ❄✋💣 💧❄✌💣🏱 ❄ 👎✌❄ ✌ 👎 ❄✋💣 🕈 ✋❄ 🕈✌💧 👍 ✌❄ 👎📬 🕆 ✡ 🕈 ❄ 💧 ✋💣✌ 💧 ✌ ❄✋💣 👎 ✌❄ 👌 ✋ 💣✌👎 ✌❄ ❄ ❄✋💣 ✡ 🕆 👍 ✌💣 💧 👎✋👎 ❄ ✋💧📬" (I DON'T HAVE TO IMPLY ANYTHING. YOUR PHONE CONFESSED FOR YOU. EACH TIME YOU TAKE A PICTURE IT CREATES A TIME STAMP OF THE DATE AND TIME FOR WHEN IT WAS CREATED. FUNNY HOW THESE IMAGES ARE TIMED AT BEING MADE AT THE TIME YOU CLAME SHE DID THIS.)

Leighton scoffs, blowing everything off.

"And why would I do this? What motive do I have for framing her?"

"The same one you keep preaching about in the halls every chance you get."

"Fuck you!"

" ✋ ❄ ✏" (LEIGHTON!)

Wingding slams the phone down and we both flinch from the shock.

"❄ ✋💧 ✋💧 ❄ ✋ ❄ ✌👍👍🕆💧✌❄✋ ✡ 🕆🕯✞ 👌 🕆 ❄ ✌ ✌✋ 💧❄ ❄ ✋💧 💣 ❄ ✌ 📬 ✡ 🕆 💣✌✡ ❄ ✋ 😐 ✡ 🕆 ✌ 👎 ✡ 🕆 ✋❄❄ ✋ 👎💧 👍✌ 👎 ✌💧 ✡ 🕆 🏱 ✌💧 📪 👌🕆❄ 💣 📬 ✋ ✌💣 💧✋👍😐 ❄ ✋💧 💧 💧 📬 ❄ ✋💧 ✌👍✌👎 💣✡ ✌ 👎 ✋ ✌ ❄ ❄ ✡💧 ✡ 🕆 🏱 ❄❄✡ 💧✈🕆✌👌 💧📬" (THIS IS THE FIFTH ACCUSATION YOU'VE BROUGHT AGAINST HER THIS MONTH ALONE. YOU MAY THINK YOU AND YOUR LITTLE FRIENDS CAN DO AS YOU PLEASE, BUT NO MORE. I AM SICK OF THIS NONSENSE. THIS ACADEMY AND I ARE NOT TOYS FOR YOUR PETTY SQUABLES.)

"But Headmaster..."

" 👌🕆❄💧✏ ✋🕯💣 ✌ ✌✋👎 ✡ 🕆 ✌✞ 💣 👍 ✋👍 📬📬📬👌🕆❄ ✌💧 ✋ ❄ 🕈📪 ✡ 🕆 ✌ 💧🕆💧🏱 👎 👎 ❄ ✠❄ ❄🕈 🕈 😐💧📬" (NO BUTS! I'M AFRAID YOU LEAVE ME NO CHOICE...BUT AS OF RIGHT NOW, YOU ARE SUSPENDED FOR THE NEXT TWO WEEKS.)

Even I'm shocked by that, but not as much as Leighton. He does not handle this well.

"Su...Suspended? Me? Impossible!"

"Dude, chill."

"Shut your mouth, you filthy monster loving freak!"

" ✋ ❄ 📪 ✋ 💧🕆 💧❄ ✡ 🕆 💧✋ 👍 ✡ 🕆 💧 👌 ✡ 🕆 💣✌😐 ❄ ✋💧 🕈 💧 📬" (LEIGHTON, I SUGGEST YOU SILENCE YOURSELF BEFORE YOU MAKE THIS WORSE.)

"No! You shut up! You, you're beneath me! All you monsters are! This world would be better off if your kind was agh...!"

I couldn't stand his hate speech any longer and kicked his leg out from my seat, knocking him down.

"You have such a big mouth that really likes the sound of your own voice, but nothing that comes out of it is ever worth listening to."

Leighton gets up and grabs me by the collar of my shirt.

"You piss ant. Do you not know who I am? I am Leighton Kingsley Emerson Winslow III! I am heir to more money than you'd know what to do in ten lifetimes."

"And this is supposed to be intimidating or impressive why?"

He shoves me out of my seat, takes his phone back, and storms his way out the door.

"I will see to it that you lose this job and near be able to teach again. And you...Mark my words, I will do all my power to destroy you!."

With that, Leighton takes his leave and I pick myself off the floor.

"Wow...He needs to get laid big time."

"✋ 👎 🕯❄ 💧 🕈 ✡ ✡ 🕆🕯 💣✌😐✋ ✋ ❄ ❄ ✋💧📬" (I DON'T SEE WHY YOU'RE MAKING LIGHT OF THIS.)

"I'm not afraid of him. He's got issues and is just venting on others because he either is too scared to battle the real problem or he can't actually do so."

"❄ ✌❄🕯💧 ✌❄ ✋ 💧✋ ❄ 🕆 ✡ 🕆📬" (THAT'S RATHER INSIGHTFUL OF YOU.)

"Heh, I do pay attention to Stretch's class you know. Besides...Can't I enjoy some part of this? that asshole and his buddies have been messing with me for ages. It's nice to see karma bite back finally."

" 📬📬📬✋ 💧 💧✌ 💧🕯💧 ❄✌ 😐 😐✌ 💣✌ ✌💧 🕆👌👌 👎 ✡ 🕆📬" (HEH...I SEE SANS'S TALK OF KARMA HAS RUBBED OFF ON YOU.)

"You can say that..."

I lean over his desk and smirk.

"That was rather clever of you. And you came up with it so fast too. I'm very impressed sir."

Wingding merely smirks back.

"👎 ✌ ✋ 📪 ✋ 😐 🕈 ❄ 🕈 ✌❄ ✡ 🕆 💣 ✌ 📬" (DEAR GIRL, I KNOW NOT WHAT YOU MEAN.)

"Oh, I know you know sir. After all, I didn't finish off that jumbo popcorn by myself."

He chuckles and scratches the crack over his right eye.

"✡ ✌ 📬📬📬🕈 📬📬📬✋ 👎✋👎 🕯❄ ✋ 🕆 ✋🕯👎 👌 💧 🕆 ✡ ✌ ❄ 🕈✌✋❄✋ ✋ ✋ 💧 📬" (YEAH...WELL...I DIDN'T FIGURE I'D BE SO HUNGRY AFTER WAITING IN LINE SO LONG.)

"Don't worry. Like I said, I won't tell anyone you're a Mew Mew fan. Besides...It was nice just being able to hang out like that."

"❄ ✌❄ ✋❄ 🕈✌💧📬 ❄ 💧✋ 📬 🕈 ✋ 💧📬 🕆💧❄ ❄🕈 ✌👎🕆 ❄💧 ❄ ✌❄ 🕆💧❄ 💧 ✌🏱🏱 ❄ 💣 ❄ 🕆🏱📬 ✡✋ ✌ 💣 ✞✋ ✌ 👎 ✌👍 ❄ 🕯💧 👍 💣🏱✌ ✡📬 ✋❄ ❄ 👎📬" (THAT IT WAS. NO TENSION. NO WORRIES. JUST TWO ADULTS THAT JUST SO HAPPEN TO MEET UP. ENJOYING A MOVIE AND EACH OTHER'S COMPANY. IT FELT GOOD.)

"I understand why you didn't mention it during snobby douche lord's tirade. It wouldn't look good. You, the Headmaster, backing me up with an alibi...It would just make it look like favoritism and further instigate him."

"✋ 👎 ✌🏱 ✋ ✋💧 👌 ✌✞✋ 📬" (I DO APOLOGIZE FOR HIS BEHAVIOR.)

"Do not waste your time saying sorry for someone that isn't. Though, I do apologize that you have to deal with people like that. Humanity is a less accepting than it likes to believe it is. But at least we all aren't super racist assholes."

He sighs.

"✋ 😐 🕈📬 ✡ 🕆🕯 ❄ 👎 💧📬 ✡ 🕆🕯✞ 👌 ✌ ✌💣✌ ✋ ✋ 🕆 👍 ❄ 👍✌💣🏱🕆💧📬 ✌ 👎 ✋ 👍✌ 🕯❄ ❄ ✌ 😐 ✡ 🕆 🕆 👎 👎✋ 🏱✌🏱✡ 🕆💧📬" (I KNOW. YOU'RE ONE OF THE GOOD ONES. YOU'VE BEEN AN AMAZING INFLUENCE ON THE CAMPUS. AND I CAN'T THANK YOU ENOUGH FOR DEFENDING PAPYRUS.)

"Hey, he's super sweet cinnamon bun that no one has the right to harm. I'm just happy I get to be his friend."

"✋ ❄ 💧✌💣 🕈✌✡📬" (I FEEL THE SAME WAY.)

He stands up and moves over to me.

"✋ 👎 🏱 ✡ 🕆 👎✋👎 🕯❄ ✋ 👎 💣 🕆👎 ✌💧❄ ✋ ❄📬" (I DO HOPE YOU DIDN'T FIND ME RUDE LAST NIGHT.)

I stand up straight and look at him funny.

"Why would I think you were rude? If anything, I thought I was rude. I couldn't keep my mouth shut and was pointing out sins in the movie. By the way, how far did I get to again?"

"🕈 👌 ❄ 💣✌👎 ✋❄ 🕆🏱 ❄ ✌ ❄ ❄✌ ✋ ❄✡ 💧 ✞ 💧✋ 💧 ❄ ✌❄ 🕈 ❄ ✌ ✌✋ 💧❄ 🕈 👍 👎 👎 ✌ 👎 ✌👍👍 🏱❄ 👎 👍✌ 📬 👌🕆❄ 🕈 ✌❄ ✋ 💣 ✌ ❄ 🕈✌💧 ✌ ❄ ❄ 💣 ✞✋ 📬 ✡ 🕆 😐 🕈📬📬📬" (WE BOTH MADE IT UP TO A TOTAL OF EIGHTY SEVEN SINS THAT WENT AGAINST WELL RECORDED AND ACCEPTED CANON. BUT WHAT I MEANT WAS AFTER THE MOVIE. YOU KNOW...)

I wave off his concern.

"*pfft* So you got a little loose. It's fine. It was happy hour at Chili's after all. What're a few drinks between friends for? *giggles* To be honest though...It was cute as hell seeing you drunk and still win the trivia tournament."

He blushes a faint hue of purple and rubs the back of his skull.

"❄ ✌ 😐💧📬 👌🕆❄ ❄ ✌❄🕯💧 💧❄✋ ❄ 🕈 ✌❄ ✋ 🕈✌💧 ✋ ❄ 📬" (THANKS. BUT THAT'S STILL NOT WHAT I WAS REFERRING TO.)

"Then what?"

"✡ 🕆📬📬📬✡ 🕆 👎 🕯❄ 💣 💣👌 ✍" (YOU...YOU DON'T REMEMBER?)

"Remember what?"

He's about to say it but hesitates. Moving up to me and whispering in my ear.

"🕈 📬📬📬🕈 😐✋ 👎 💣✌👎 🕆❄📬" (WE...WE KIND OF MADE OUT.)

"...Really?"

"✡ ✌ 📬" (YEAH.)

I blush but just smile.

"Well, that doesn't sound as bad as you were making it. Silly skeleton."

"❄ ✌❄🕯💧 ❄ ✌ ❄ ✌❄ ✌🏱🏱 👎📬" (THAT'S NOT ALL THAT HAPPENED.)

"Oh..."

"✋❄ ✌🏱🏱 👎 ✈🕆✋❄ ✌ 🕈 ❄✋💣 💧 ✌❄ ❄ 💧❄✌🕆 ✌ ❄📬 ❄ ✋ 💣✡ 👍✌ 📬 ❄ 💧 💣 💣 ✌❄ ✡ 🕆 🏱 ✌👍 📬📬📬" (IT HAPPENED QUITE A FEW TIMES AT THE RESTAURANT. THEN IN MY CAR. THEN SOME MORE AT YOUR PLACE...)

"Uh...Just how far did this go?"

He puts his hands up defensively.

" ❄ ❄ ✌❄ ✌ 📪 ✋ 💧🕈 ✌ ✏ ✌❄ 💣 💧❄📪 🕈 💣✌✡ ✌✞ 👎 ✌ 🕆 👎 ✌ ✋❄❄ 📪 👌🕆❄ ❄ ✋ ❄ 💧 ✋ 🕆💧📬" (NOT THAT FAR, I SWEAR! AT MOST, WE MAY HAVE FOOLED AROUND A LITTLE, BUT NOTHING TOO SERIOUS.)

I sigh with relief.

"That's good. Wait...What is 'too serious'?"

"👍 ❄ ✋ 💧❄✌✡ 👎 ✌ 👎 🕈 💧 🏱❄ ✋ 👎✋ ❄ 💣💧📬 ✋ 🕈✌💧 ❄ 👍 🕆👍 ✌ 👎 ❄ 👌 ✡ 🕆 🕈 😐 🕆🏱📬" (CLOTHING STAYED ON AND WE SLEPT IN DIFFERENT ROOMS. I WAS ON THE COUCH AND LEFT BEFORE YOU WOKE UP.)

"...That explains why none of that rings a bell with me."

"✡ 🕆 👎✋👎 🕈✌ 💣 ✌ ✌👎 ❄✋💣 ❄ ✌❄ ✡ 🕆🕯✞ ✞ 👍 💧🕆💣 👎 ✌ 👍 👌 📬" (YOU DID WARN ME AHEAD OF TIME THAT YOU'VE NEVER CONSUMED ALCOHOL BEFORE.)

"I remember it did not taste good straight."

"❄ ✌❄🕯💧 🕈 ✡ ✡ 🕆 ❄ ✋ 👎 💣✋✠✋ ❄ 💣 ✋ 💧 👎✌💧📬" (THAT'S WHY YOU TRIED MIXING THEM IN SODAS.)

I smack my forehead.

"Remind me not to do that again next time."

"✡ ✌ 📪 ✡ 🕆 ❄ ✌ ✡ 👌 👎 ✡ ✌ 👍❄✋ ✌❄ 🕈 ✡ 🕆🕯 📬📬📬🕈✌✋❄📪 🕈 ✌❄✍" (YEAH, YOU GET REALLY BOLDLY AFFECTIONATE WHEN YOU'RE...WAIT, WHAT?)

He looks at me surprised.

"What?"

"❄ 🕯💧 ✌ ✠❄ ❄✋💣 ✍ ✡ 🕆 💣 ✌ 📬📬📬✡ 🕆 💧❄✋ 🕈✌ ❄ ❄ 👌 ✌ 🕆 👎 💣 ✍" (THERE'S A NEXT TIME? YOU MEAN...YOU STILL WANT TO BE AROUND ME?)

"Uh...Yeah. Why not? You free tonight?"

"🕆 📬📬📬✡📫✡ 💧📬" (UH...Y-YES.)

"Cool. Because I'm so challenging you for the title of trivia master."

He chuckles and pats my back.

"✡ 🕆 👍✌ ❄ ✡📪 ✋❄❄ 📬 ✡ 🕆 👍✌ 👍 ❄✌✋ ✡ ❄ ✡📬" (YOU CAN TRY, LITTLE ONE. YOU CAN CERTAINLY TRY.)

"And the loser pays the bill."

" 📬📬📬👌 ❄❄ ✌✞ ✡ 🕆 🕈✌ ❄ ✌ 👎✡ ❄ 📬" (HEHEH...BETTER HAVE YOUR WALLET HANDY THEN.)

[Later that night after much merriment and trivia festivities]

We drunkenly stumble into Wingding's home. My hands snake around him as he fumbles with his keys, feeling down his pants for his hipbone with reckless abandon, making him fight back a deep shudder.

" ✡ 💧✋ 📪 🏱 ✌💧 📬📬📬🕈✌✋❄ ❄✋ ✋ 👍 💧 ❄ 👎 ✋ 💧❄📬" (LYNSIE, PLEASE...WAIT TILL I CLOSE THE DOOR FIRST.)

"Relax, Gaster. I just want you to feel good. It's called being a generously gracious loser."

" 🕆💧❄📬📬📬 ❄ ❄ 👍 🕆👍 ✌ 👎 😐 🏱 ❄ 💧 🕆 👎 🕈📬 ✋ 👎 🕯❄ 🕈✌ ❄ ❄ 🕈✌😐 💣✡ 👌 ❄ 💧📬" (JUST...GO TO THE COUCH AND KEEP THE SOUND LOW. I DON'T WANT TO WAKE MY BROTHERS.)

"*whisper* Okay...But don't keep me waiting...Headmaster~."

I swayed over to the couch, trying to be sexy but most likely looking silly to a sober person. Wingding locks the door and approaches me, sitting down thus allowing me to resume our fun. I pull his tie off slowly and begin unbuttoning his vest then shirt. His hands feel along my sides, tracing the curves of my form and taking the time to traverse the clothe that rest upon the supple warm flesh his bones crave.

"💧 📬📬📬🕈 ✡ 👎 ❄ ✡ ✞ 💧 ✞ 👌 ✌❄ ✌ 💣✌❄ 🏱✌ ❄✡📬" (SO...WHY DO THEY NEVER SERVE BEER AT A MATH PARTY.)

"Huh?"

"👌 👍✌🕆💧 ✡ 🕆 👍✌ 🕯❄ 👎 ✋ 😐 ✌ 👎 👎 ✋✞ 📬" (BECAUSE YOU CAN'T DRINK AND DERIVE.)

I snicker and move onto his lap, peeling away his torso coverings and feeling up his ribs, making him suck in air in bliss.

"What three candies can you find in every school?"

"🕈 ✌❄✍" (WHAT?)

"Nerds, DumDums, and smarties."

"✋ 📄 ✋💧 ❄ 💣🕆 ✌ 🕈✌❄ 📪 🕈 ✌❄ ✋💧 ❄ 💣🕆 ✌ ✋👍 ✍" (IF H2O IS THE FORMULA FOR WATER, WHAT IS THE FORMULA FOR ICE?)

"I don't know."

" 📄 👍🕆👌 👎📬" (H2O CUBED.)

"I heard oxygen went on a date with potassium today."

"👎✋👎 ✋❄ 🕈✍" (DID IT NOW?)

"It went 'OK'."

He chuckles and leans into me, planting kisses on my neck.

"✋ ❄ 🕆 ❄ ✠✡ 🕈✌💧 👎✌❄✋ 💣✌ 💧✋🕆💣✍ 🕯 💣 🕯📪 ✋ ❄✍" (I THOUGHT OXYGEN WAS DATING MAGNESIUM? 'OMG', RIGHT?)

Even when our minds are under the influence, we can't help but fall into our most basic traits.

"*giggles* Actually, oxygen first asked nitrogen out, but nitrogen was all like 'NO'."

"*snickers* ✋ ❄ 🕆 ❄ ✠✡ ✌👎 ❄ ✌❄ 👎 🕆👌 👌✋ 👎 🕈✋❄ ❄ ✡👎 ❄🕈✋ 💧✍ 😐💧 ✋😐 💧 💣 🕯💧 ✌ 🕯 🕯📬" (*SNICKERS* I THOUGHT OXYGEN HAD THAT DOUBLE BIND WITH THE HYDROGEN TWINS? LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE'S AN 'HO'.)

"NaBrO."

He can't help but laugh at this nutty line of science jokes. He's not known for partaking in them like this, but if the jokes are in his line of knowledge, then they will tickle his funny bone. Plus, his brother Classic and a good number of my other bony friends are masters in the art of punning. So my skills in jokes are all thanks to them.

"I wish I was adenine."

"✡ 🕆 👎 ✍" (YOU DO?)

"Yeah...then I could get paired with U."

"🕈 ✌❄ ✋💧 ❄ ✌💧❄ 💧❄ 🕈✌✡ ❄ 👎 ❄ 💣✋ ❄ 💧 ✠ ✌ 👍 💣 💧 💣 ✍" (WHAT IS THE FASTEST WAY TO DETERMINE THE SEX OF A CHROMOSOME?)

"Do tell."

"🏱🕆 👎 🕈 ✋❄💧 💧❞📬" (PULL DOWN ITS GENES~.)

"Mmmm...Don't mind if I do~."

He flinches a little when I unfasten his belt and zip his pants down.

"*shudder* 📫 ❄❄✋ ✌ 📪 👎 🕯❄ ✡ 🕆 ❄ ✋ 😐✍" (*SHUDDER* G-GETTING EAGER, DON'T YOU THINK?)

"Is that a complaint?"

" ❄ ✡ 🕆 ✋ 📬" (NOT ON YOUR LIFE.)

"Good. Then allow me to work my magic on you. Because not only are we scientists, but we have the ability to do each other on a table, periodically."

I trace my fingers in between each sensitive bone. Hazily memorizing the smooth texture and enjoying the way his face shifted differently when certain places were touched.

"I'm going to learn how to please your body the same way you teach me about the Krebs Cycle...By going over it repeatedly every few semesters~."

He gulps as I lean into his chest, curling my tongue around ribs and sucking on them slowly. He groans as his hands claw at me, one in my hair clutches my head so it can't move away and the other is under my thigh to help the support.

" 📬📬📬👎 🕯❄ 💧❄ 🏱 ❄✋ ✡ 🕆 🏱 🏱 💣✡ 💧✡ ✞✋✌ 🕆✋👎📬📬📬" (OOOOOH...DON'T STOP TILL YOU POP MY SYNOVIAL FLUID...)

"*coos* As long as you bring your stirring rod, I'll bring my beaker~."

The hand in my hair pulls me up and he slams his mouth to my own, deepening the kiss with his magic made tongue.

"🕈 📬📬📬✡ 🕆 😐 🕈 🕈 ✌❄ ❄ ✡ 💧✌✡📬 *moans* ✋❄🕯💧 ❄ ❄ 💧✋ ❄ ✌ 🕆💣📬📬📬*shudder* 👌🕆❄ ❄ 💣 ❄✋ ❄ ✠❄ ✌👍 🕆 ✌ 🕆✋👎📬" (WELL...YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY. *MOANS* IT'S NOT THE SIZE OF THE FLAGELLUM...*SHUDDER* BUT THE MOTION OF THE EXTRACELLULAR FLUID.)

"Then why don't you and me...*groans* take this potential energy...*swoons* add some acceleration...*gasp* and make some kinetic energy all over this couch~."

He pulls me back and we just stare at each other for some time.

"✌ ✡ 🕆 💧🕆 ✡ 🕆 🕈✌ ❄ ❄ ✋💧✍ ✋ 💣 ✌ 📬📬📬🕈 👎 🕯❄ ✌✞ ❄ 👎 ✌ ✡❄ ✋ 📬" (ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT THIS? I MEAN...WE DON'T HAVE TO DO ANYTHING.)

"Gaster...I'm as positive as a proton. So don't be a negative electron. Or else this will become as exciting as a neutron...no charge."

"✌ ✋ ❄📪 ✋ ❄ ✋❄📬 🕆💧❄ 👎 🕆👌 👍 👍😐✋ 📬" (ALRIGHT, I GET IT. JUST DOUBLE CHECKING.)

In one fluid motion, he pulls my shirt up and off me to join the other removed clothes scattered on the floor. He looks at me, then looks at my chest, now back to me, now back at body, now back to me.

"You okay?"

"✡ 🕆 💣🕆💧❄ 👌 ❄ 🏱 ✌💧 📬 👌 👍✌🕆💧 ✋🕯💣 💧❄✌ ✋ ✌❄ ✡ 🕆 👍 ✌✞✌ 🕆 🕈📬" (YOU MUST BE TELOPHASE. BECAUSE I'M STARING AT YOUR CLEAVAGE FURROW.)

It takes a moment before I have to cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

"Oh my god...You are so bad that it's actually sexy."

" ❄ ✞ ✡ 👎✌✡ ✋ 👍✌ 🕆💧 ❄ ✌❄ 📬" (NOT EVERY DAY I CAN USE THAT ONE.)

"Well if that's the case...If I was an endoplasmic reticulum, how would you want me...smooth or rough~?"

His face blushes deeply and he blanks of emotion. Suddenly he moves me off him so he can stand up. He hastily picks me up and blots to his room, kicking his pants off along the way. His underwear shakes off till it's around his ankle and it would've been fine till it catches on the door when he tries closing it, so we tumble over each other.

Thank god we're wasted or that would've hurt a lot more. Now a sober person would be so turned off by being dropped on the ground with the efficiency of a farmer chucking a feed bag into the back of their wagon, but not us. In our messed up state, we found this hilarious. Laughing as we get back up, totally not caring if there are two other people sleeping at whatever time of the night this is, and fooling around as we get to his bed.

I shove him onto the bed, putting on a sloppy striptease of removing my skirt and panties, finishing with the unveiling of my ample chest. While he clearly appreciates the show, the dropping of my skirt alone made him produce a magical purple member and by the time he sees my breasts that bad boy is at full mast.

"You know, I can supply the Ligase to lengthen your strand. Or how about a little Telomerase to extend DAT chromosome~?"

Resting on his elbows, he licks wipes away some escaping drool and gulps with a weary smile.

"✋ 👎 🕯❄ 😐 🕈📬 ✋ ✞ ✌ 👎 ❄ 🏱 ✋💣 ✞ ✌ 📬" (I DON'T KNOW. I LOVE A GOOD THREE PRIME OVERHANG.)

"Three? Oh no sir. You are more of a good hard five prime end to me."

"✡ 🕆 ✌❄❄ 💣 📪 ✋❄❄ 📬" (YOU FLATTER ME, LITTLE ONE.)

I crawl on top of him and kiss up his ribcage.

"How about we make like the change of base law, with you on the bottom, and me on top~?"

" ✡ ✋ ✡ 🕆🕯 👌 ❄ ✌ 😐✡ ✌❄ ❄ 💣✡ ✌ 😐 ✠✋👎 📬" (ONLY IF YOU'LL BE THE ALKYLATE TO MY ALKOXIDE.)

"Okay, but why?"

"👌 👍✌🕆💧 📬📬📬✋❄🕯💧 🕆👍 🏱 ✋ ✋👍 ✌ 👎 ✌👎✡ ❄ 👌✌👍😐💧✋👎 ✌❄❄✌👍😐 ❄ ✌ 🕆❄ ✡ 🕆📬" (BECAUSE...IT'S NUCLEOPHILIC AND READY TO BACKSIDE ATTACK THE HALOGEN OUT OF YOU.)

He spanks me and I yelp. This first worries him, that fear subsides when he sees the giddy look on my face.

"No more waiting. Once you hit my G1 spot, we'll get this cell cycle started~."

"✋ ✋ 👍 🕆 👎 🏱 ✌💣 ❄ 🕆 ✋✞ 💧 📪 ✋ 🕈 🕆 👎 ✌ 👍✌❄ ✡ 🕆 ✌ 👎 ✋ ✋ 👍 ❄✋ 🕆 🕆💧 💣 ������ ✡ 👌 👍😐💧📬" (IF I COULD PROGRAM THE UNIVERSE, I WOULD ALLOCATE YOU AND I IN CONTIGUOUS MEMORY BLOCKS.)

"Gaster, slip between these beta-pleated sheets and get to know my alpha-helix."

He shudders hard and grabs my face, pulling me into a heated kiss while my body does the rest of the work. Straddling the delirious skeleton, any restraint evaporates as I lower myself, my aching virgin flower desperate for contact. My thighs quiver as I touch his wobbling column of maleness, the slick pre-goo coating my engorged clit, smothering it with tingling warmth. Oblivious to the apparent size difference, my body pushes downwards, my knees giving out, forcing his member against the entrance roughly. The need to be speared on his magic made boner is an overwhelming urge, egged on by the leaking pre-goo currently pumping into my love hole. With strength born of unnatural lust, I grip his shoulders and drive myself downwards, feeling myself stretch painfully as I take in his length.

Keeping the kiss, I feel his hands grab me by the thighs, forcefully grinding up and down along his length. Every inch of his towering slick rod presses tightly against my inner walls, smearing more of his wondrous pre-goo into my body with every stroke. Now with this rhythm in mind, I pick up the pace, heartbeat thudding in my ears as like a guiding metronome, making him convulse as his man-bit vibrates as I slam down on it over and over again. I find myself swooning loudly at the feeling of him thickening, bulging out at the base and slowly fattening inside me until it feels I might burst. With a throaty moan, he cums, erupting magic goo into what feels like my womb. My eyes roll back as it fills me, swooning as I feel the liquid pleasure seeping into me. My wall clamp down, trapping his essence inside, his orgasm dragging on. The copious fluid attempts filling my needy core. But I'm not ready to end it yet.

"Gaster..."

He pants and lazily looks at me.

"✡📫✡ 💧✍" (Y-YES?)

"You know...It's not the length of the vector that counts, but how you apply the force. And right now, there's some intense pressure in my core that needs you to add further heat to make my diamonds. Get the hint?"

My words rattle in his skull before his sockets widen.

"🕆 👎 💧❄ 👎 👎 ✌ 📪 🕆👎 ✌ 👎 👍 ✌ 📬" (UNDERSTOOD DEAR, LOUD AND CLEAR.)

The once very professional skeleton grabs me around the waist and flips me over while somehow maintaining our sexual connection. Now taking the reins of this drunken dance of ours, he fondles my softball-sized jugs, squeezing and mauling them with his calcified hands. Lulling to his care, he gives no warning when he shoves himself down hard into me, slamming his hips forward in an especially deep thrust. My eyes go wide in shock, seeing stars as he rams the massive member past spots that break my intoxicated mind. Wingding works his hips fast, piston-pumping his long shaft in and out. The rampant babbling coming from my mouth hiccups with his every thrust, and my body is racked by oncoming orgasm after possible orgasm.

"Aaah...Oooooh...Gaster...Aaah-aaah-oooh...Yes...Yes...Don't stop~!"

" 📬📬📬 ✌ ✌📪 💣💣💣💣 ✡ 🕆 ✋😐 ❄ ✌❄ ✌ ❄📪 �� ✍ ✡ 🕆 ✋😐 ✋ 💣 ✋ 💧✋👎 ✡ 🕆📬 ❄ 💣 ✡ 🕆 ✋😐 ✋❄📬" (OOOO...HAHA, MMMM YOU LIKE THAT A LOT, HUH? YOU LIKE FEELING ME INSIDE YOU. TELL ME YOU LIKE IT.)

"I love it! Oh yeah...Oh, there...right there! Take me! I need it! Harder! More please!"

"✡ 💧📬📬📬 👎📪 ✡ 💧✏ ❄✌😐 ✋❄✏ ✌✌✌ 📬📬📬 ✡ 💧✋ 📬📬📬❄✌😐 ✌ ✋❄✏ ❄✌😐 ✋❄✏ ❄✌😐 💣✡ ✞ 📪 💣✡ 🕆💧❄📪 ✌ 👎 ✌ 💣✡ 👌 ✋ ✏ " (YES...OH GOD, YES! TAKE IT! AAAH...LYNSIE...TAKE ALL OF IT! TAKE IT! TAKE MY LOVE, MY LUST, AND ALL OF MY BEING!)

"G-gaster...So hard...So tight...So hot...Oooooh...Ah...Aahh..."

The sensation of him filling me up causes deep shudders to rip from the depths of my throat. My head begins to swim as he rakes along my inner walls, tugging, catching and massaging from the inside as he starts to vibrate in building release, causing me to lock my legs around his torso in hopes of smashing him to limits unknown. As my mouth hangs open in lust, he loses himself to the ecstasy, roughly impaling himself in me hard enough to leave bruises on the pair of us. His eyes clenched tightly shut as he revels in the feeling of my warm wet insides lavish him in all the right ways. Eventually, his efforts finally force me over the edge, my hungry sex lips clench tightly over him, rhythmically squeezing as it attempts to milk his shaft, and he certainly doesn't disappoint. With a yell loud enough to match how much the bed has been quaking, he erupts violently within me, his hot magic love goo pouring into my depths again, his face twisted into a snarl of pleasure and satisfaction.

Slowly I start to come down from this orgasmic high, mostly because I'm about to past out. The sensations are beginning to settle, but then I realize Wingding isn't slowing down. His hips carry on with their pumping right through his orgasm and continually slam into me. He persists long after the climax knocks him out, masterfully working me the entire time. I fight the urge to black out solely out of sheer respect for his ability and curiosity to know how many times he can go for. I lose count rather quickly thanks to my brain shutting down and the couple more orgasms I get along the way, but after his final release, his hips slow down till they just stop. His member fades inside me, copious oddly satisfying fluids struggle to stay inside me, but there's no doubt a sticky purple stain on his sheets. With his body draped over mine, I limply put my arms around him and fall into a blissful sex-induced sleep.

[Meanwhile: In the hallway]

An alert Papyrus and a groggy Sans stare at their elder sibling's bedroom door in utter disbelief.

"SANS..."

"yeah?"

"DID YOU HEAR LYNSIE'S VOICE IN ALL THAT?"

"yeah."

"SHOULD WE...SHOULD WE DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT? I'M UNSURE HOW TO PROCESS THIS."

"i don't think that would the wisest move to make."

"THEN WHAT DO WE DO?"

"do? we do nothing."

"THAT'S NOT HELPFUL."

"sometimes there are things you can't do anything about."

"BUT...IT FEELS SO AWKWARD."

"i know. but it's too late to do anything and i don't think anyone wants to see what's on the other side of that door after hearing the stuff e heard."

"YOU MAKE A GOOD POINT THERE."

"now, let's just get back to bed and try not to dream about whatever just happened in there. okay, pap?"

"OKAY. GOODNIGHT, SANS."

"goodnight, pap. and...*yawns* sweet dreams."

Papyrus returns to his room but Sans continues to linger a little bit out of sleepiness.

"heh...didn't think those two could get that wild. *yawns* i'm so putting them through the walk of shame in the morning."

With that, Sans sluggishly returns to his room and his bed. The tomorrow was going to be interesting.

[eddycurrents]

For the week of 3 December 2018

Quick Bits:

Batman #60 sure is something. There’s echoes of Knightfall with Batman seemingly going off the deep end when it comes to beating up villains in search for answers about Bane. You’ve got to wonder if it’s all just misdirection, bringing about extreme alienation from Gordon all the while. The scenes of Batman running amok through his villains are illustrated by Jorge Fornés (with colours from Jordie Bellaire) and you’d swear it’s the second coming of David Mazzucchelli. Fornés’ style is perfect for Batman.

| Published by DC Comics

Blackbird #3 is still keeping us off-balance, giving us hints of the Paragon world, but still navigating the edges, leaving us almost as in the dark as Nina. There’s a revelation this issue, though, that may make everything make sense. Great art from Jen Bartel, Paul Reinwand, and Tríona Farrell. The designs for the Paragons and the “true” appearance of the city are very well done.

| Published by Image

BPRD: The Devil You Know #11 kicks off the end with the first part of “Ragna Rok”, but before getting to Rasputin’s wrath, we get Varvara’s origin story. Great art from Christopher Mitten, Laurence Campbell, and Dave Stewart.

| Published by Dark Horse

Clankillers #5 brings the series to an end as Cillian and the remaining forces confront Fin as possessed by the spirit of Balor. This is a good end that seeks to break the cycle of violence we’ve seen since the first issue. Overall a wonderful series from Sean Lewis, Antonio Fuso, Stefano Simeone, and Dave Sharpe.

| Published by AfterShock

Crowded #5 pushes us closer to the conclusion of the first arc, literally, as the narrative is hijacked by the Reapr sensation, Trotter. It’s very interesting to see how damaged overall these characters are that Christopher Sebela is giving voice to. They all seem to have some fundamental flaws that have broken them and led them into a world where crowd-funded contract killing seems like a good idea.

| Published by Image

The Curse of Brimstone #9 is one of the New Age of Heroes books I actually quite like, so of course it’s ending soon. That said, I’ll see it out to the end, even if the Doctor Fate this issue seems a bit at odds with the one in Justice League Dark. Still, Justin Jordan, Eduardo Pansica, Júlio Ferreira, Rain Beredo, and Wes Abbott give us an entertaining tale exploring the nature of Brimstone.

| Published by DC Comics

Dark Ark #12 introduces all sorts of complications as Shrae and the monsters approach landfall, ratcheting up the tensions and machinations amongst the factions, and the looming threat that Shrae and his family may not be much longer for the world as their patrons leave them. Cullen Bunn and Juan Doe are crafting an amazing story here.

| Published by AfterShock

Death Orb #3 tosses us some pretty dark humour amidst the action and ever closer threat of planet death. The action sequence between the Rider and the Ninja, though brief, is very entertaining.

| Published by Dark Horse

Deathstroke #38 gets more complicated even as it begins to untie the Gordian Knot of Slade’s insanity. The plot here from Priest is fairly intricate, but it all makes sense if we accept that everything we’ve been told by him is the truth and we just weren’t shown his trip via the Zeta Beam. It fits better with what’s been going on outside the walls of Arkham. Also wonderful artwork from Fernando Pasarin, Jason Paz, and Jeromy Cox.

| Published by DC Comics

Die #1 is incredible. It taps into the same primal childhood nostalgia present in things like IT, The Goonies, Stranger Things, and more, wrapping it in a roleplaying game in a fantasy world, but with an ever-present feeling of dread and loss because something went horribly, horribly wrong. Great work here from Kieron Gillen, Stephanie Hans, and Clayton Cowles.

| Published by Image

Doctor Strange #9 is a wonderful single issue story dealing with an aggressive land developer trying numerous means through the years to acquire the property on Bleecker Street. It’s a different kind of adversary for Strange, but Mark Waid, Jesús Saiz, and Cory Petit make what might well be the best issue of this volume yet. It’s interesting to see a more human side of Strange here, caring for his community, but it works. Especially with the gorgeous artwork from Saiz, including some incredibly well designed creatures.

| Published by Marvel

Doctor Who: The Thirteenth Doctor #2 continues to be highly entertaining as the Doctor and friends try to escape from the clutches of the Army of the Just. Jody Houser, Rachael Stott, Giorgia Sposito, Valeria Favoccia, Enrica Eren Angiolini, Viviana Spinelli, Sara Michieli, Andrea Moretto, Richard Starkings, Sarah Jacobs, and John Roshell capture the tone, atmosphere, and appearance of the television series perfectly, serving as a nice companion piece to the show and a good comic in its own right.

| Published by Titan

The Freeze #1 is a compelling debut from Dan Wickline, Phillip Sevy, and Troy Peteri. We’re thrust into a world where everyone has frozen, stopped moving, but by all appearances it’s just people, everything else is still in motion. It’s told through the perspective of the one person who didn’t freeze, Ray Adams, and the first issue raises a lot of questions as to what’s going on.

| Published by Image / Top Cow

Goliath Girls #2 is a Comixology original from Sam Humphries, Alti Firmansyah, Brittany Peer, and Jodi Wynne delving into the kaiju genre with aplomb. It’s colourful and action-packed, with some great art from Firmansyah and Peer, and an interesting take on the kaiju that evokes more of the human/mech bond that we’ve seen in the robo variation on the genre like Mech Cadet Yu.

| Published by Shadow Valley

The Green Lantern #2 continues this excellent new take on the Green Lanterns from Grant Morrison, Liam Sharp, Steve Oliff, and Tom Orzechowski. It maintains the Silver Age meets 2000 AD & Heavy Metal feel from the first issue, but still feels incredibly fresh and new. The art from Sharp and Oliff is just stunning.

| Published by DC Comics

Grumble #1 is a wonderful debut from Rafer Roberts, Mike Norton, Marissa Louise, and Crank! delving into a world of magic, con artistry, and running for your life from an intergalactic authority trying to erase you from existence. And a mook who’s trapped in the form of a pug. It’s rather funny and pretty great.

| Published by Albatross Funnybooks

Hack/Slash vs. Chaos! #1 is off to a decent start with Tim Seeley back in the writer’s chair for Cassie and Vlad, joined by Rapha Lobosco, Dee Cunniffe, and Crank! to round out the creative team. I don’t have a lot (read, pretty much any) of experience with the Chaos characters, but this still works framed as a straightforward Hack/Slash tale. Lobosco’s art is very nice for the story. He’s not delivering a straight-up Risso-clone style here anymore, developing more of his own grittier tone, and it’s great to see.

| Published by Dynamite

Her Infernal Descent #5 concludes the series with the final descent into the deepest reaches of Hell. I’m not really sure what happened, but this final issue is illustrated by Eoin Marron, replacing Kyle Charles, and he does a good job of taken us that last mile. This has been an interesting series, using Dante’s Inferno as a framework for a personal tale of one woman’s reflection on grief and her own personal hell. Lonnie Nadler, Zac Thompson, Charles & Marron, Dee Cunniffe, Ryan Ferrier & Marshall Dillon gave us something very unique to comics.

| Published by AfterShock

Immortal Hulk #10 has reached the point where I think I’m running out of superlatives for this series, it’s the most incredible Hulk story I’ve read in decades. Al Ewing, Joe Bennett, Ruy José, Le Beau Underwood, Rafael Fonteriz, Paul Mounts, and Cory Petit deliver another stunning chapter, concluding the battle between Hulk and Creel in a manner even more terrifying than Creel’s appearance.

| Published by Marvel

Immortal Hulk: The Best Defense #1, along with the Namor title this week, begins “The Best Defense” event. It apparently features four lead-ins of the individual original members of the Defenders, which can be read in any order and appear independent of one another, followed by the finale in The Defender: The Best Defense in two weeks. This one is from Immortal Hulk’s regular writer, Al Ewing, along with Simone Di Meo, Dono Sánchez-Almara, and Cory Petit. It follows the same horror atmosphere and tone of the main Immortal Hulk book, presenting a mysteriously abandoned town and the desiccated corpse of Doctor Strange.

| Published by Marvel

Justice League #13 explores Joker’s recruitment to the Legion of Doom and his thoughts on their current activities in this third issue devoted to them from James Tynion IV, Guillem March, Arif Prianto, and Tom Napolitano. The art from March and Prianto is suitably dark and strange, perfectly encapsulating Joker’s madness.

| Published by DC Comics

Killmonger #1 is an interesting start, picking up an interpretation of the character similar to how he appeared in the Black Panther movie, but pushing him further. The art from Juan Ferreyra is gorgeous, running us through a variety of styles for the flashbacks, present day, dreams, and such that are just incredible, really enhancing the overall story.

| Published by Marvel

LaGuardia #1 begins a rich sci-fi tale from Nnedi Okorafor, Tana Ford, James Devlin, and Sal Cipriano. This first issue introduces us to a world where aliens of all sorts have made themselves known to humans and begun visiting, some even seeming to be living here, through the eyes of Future Nwafor Chukwuebuka and Citizen Raphael Nwabara. It’s interesting to see the sociopolitical and social landscapes of this story develop and how they intertwine with the characters, along with some gorgeous art from Ford and Devlin.

| Published by Dark Horse / Berger Books

The Last Siege #7 takes an impressive risk for its penultimate issue, choosing to go silent for the breakout of the full battle against the castle. It’s great. The storytelling through the art is wonderful, words would only get in the way. Landry Q. Walker, Justin Greenwood, Brad Simpson, and Patrick Brosseau really bring it this issue.

| Published by Image

Lodger #2 continues this incredibly unique crime story from David and Maria Lapham. It’s one part serial killer’s travelogue, one part revenge quest, and all parts compelling drama.

| Published by IDW / Black Crown

Low Road West #4 answers a few more questions, but leaves a hell of a lot more for the conclusion next issue. Just as we’re getting some answers, it swerves into more action as the kids get chased again by the government agents. This is weird, but good weird. The art from Flaviano and Miquel Muerto really sells how strange this world has become.

| Published by BOOM! Studios

Martian Manhunter #1 contains the first depiction that I know of for green martian sex. It’s...maybe what you’d expect from a race than can change its form at will. The first issue of this 12-issue maxi-series from Steve Orlando, Riley Rossmo, Ivan Plascencia, and Deron Bennett is unconventional, blending a procedural with a pretty brutal murder and a kind of personal history of J’onn on Mars. And it’s not at all what you’d expect. This is good. Weird, but good.

| Published by DC Comics

Marvel Knights #3 sees Tini Howard and Damian Couceiro join Donny Cates in the fun for a dive into how Frank Castle was tracking down the amnesiac heroes and watching his relationships fall apart in the process. This one feels harder, harsher, than the first two chapters, but it perfectly fits the Punisher. Also some dark humour.

| Published by Marvel

Namor: The Best Defense #1 gives us what’s mainly a political thriller mixed with a monster battle, as Namor searches for allies in the remote Atlantean colony of Vodan, in this tale from Chip Zdarsky, Carlos Magno, Ian Herring, and Travis Lanham. The art from Magno and Herring is worth the price of admission alone, but there’s also some very interesting hints at what might be coming in the new Invaders series.

| Published by Marvel

Ninja-K #14 brings the series to an end in fairly explosive style as Christos Gage, Roberto de la Torre, José Villarrubia, and A Larger World Studios tender Colin King’s resignation. The action this issue is pretty phenomenal, with some of the best art I’ve seen from de la Torre, outdoing himself very impressively.

| Published by Valiant

Prodigy #1 is another interesting new Millarworld project, introducing us to Edison Crane, a celebrity super-genius seemingly solving all the world’s problems, and he’s about to embark on one hell of one with a possible invasion from an alternate reality. In some ways, this is almost a more “realistic” take on what would happen if Reed Richards existed in our world, just slightly to the left, but it’s still a compelling story from Mark Millar, Rafael Albuquerque, Marcelo Maiolo, and Peter Doherty.

| Published by Image

Rick and Morty vs. Dungeons & Dragons #3 throws Morty’s dad into the mix as the group travel to a reality where D&D is real. This continues to be a nigh perfect mash-up of the two properties as Patrick Rothfuss, Jim Zub, Troy Little, Leonardo Ito, and Robbie Robbins delve into some of the traditional elements of adventuring. Also, not talking about fourth edition is a good idea.

| Published by IDW & Oni Press

Self/Made #1 is a very impressive debut from Mat Groom, Eduardo Ferigato, Marcelo Costa, and Troy Peteri. It starts as a very well told, beautifully illustrated fantasy tale set in Arcadia of a quest to stop the evil from conquering the world, with a great character in Amala, but it becomes something so much more. Highly recommend this one.

| Published by Image

Star Wars: Age of Republic - Qui-Gon Jinn #1 is the first of this new series of one shots intent on giving more insight to the various characters around the Star Wars universe across the ages, as they fit in the new canon since Disney took over. It’s kind of weird to see this kind of thing again after the Expanded Universe already did it over decades, but I can’t say that this isn’t good. Jody Houser, Cory Smith, Walden Wong, Java Tartaglia, and Travis Lanham deliver a suitably introspective tale as Qui-Gon tries to deal with the conflict between two warring factions of a world of wood/metal and by extension the light and dark sides of the Force. There are some really nice designs and images of Coruscant and the unnamed world Qui-Gon meditates on in the book.

| Published by Marvel

United States vs. Murder Inc. #4 sees the five families send Rose and Gallo to assassinate the President. Brian Michael Bendis, Michael Avon Oeming, Taki Soma, and Carlos M. Mangual deliver more twists this issue, upheaving the status quo and sending it into yet another direction. Also further reinforcement that Valentine really isn’t suited to this life.

| Published by DC Comics / Jinxworld

Venom #9 kicks off “The Abyss” with a returning Ryan Stegman, JP Mayer, and Frank Martin. Donny Cates’ narration for Eddie really takes us inside the character here, building out his fears, grief, and history as he tries to reconnect with his father. It’s an incredible deep dive for some really well done character building.

| Published by Marvel

West Coast Avengers #5 begins the next arc, following through the team’s relationship issues and tossing them into a creepy abandoned amusement park, ostensibly following through Madame Masque’s revenge scheme from the last Hawkeye series (though you needn’t have read that, I highly recommend that you do. It’s great). Daniele Di Nicuolo joins Tríona Farrell on the art and it’s nice to see him doing some work for Marvel.

| Published by Marvel

The Wicked + The Divine #40 begins “Okay” with a very interesting structure to the story. Kieron Gillen, Jamie McKelvie, Matthew Wilson, Clayton Cowles, and Dee Cunniffe present this story at a distance, through various forms of cameras. It gives the story a very different kind of feel, mimicking the viewpoint from a vlog on YouTube at points, security cameras at others, and some other forms of video viewing, keeping the reader at arm’s length.

| Published by Image

Winter Soldier #1 is an interesting start to this new mini from Kyle Higgins, Rod Reis, and Clayton Cowles. They set up Bucky as a kind of extraction agent in a new plan to pull crooked cops in over their heads, Hydra agents looking to get out, and the like out of their situations and give them a second chance with a “normal life”. It’s certainly a different premise. The art from Reis is gorgeous, as usual, channelling some of his best Bill Sienkiewicz influence.

| Published by Marvel

The Wrong Earth #4 continues its very interesting exploration of these two vastly different worlds representing two ends of comics culture, showing just how ill prepared the two forms of Dragonfly(man) are to their counterpart’s world. Great art from Jamal Igle, Juan Castro, and Andy Troy. I never get tired of how the art shifts when the story switches from Earth Alpha to Omega. This one’s rounded out with a back-up spotlighting the deadly (and somewhat careless) crime-fighting of Dragonfly and an assortment of prose. 

| Published by Ahoy

Other Highlights: Avengers Assemble: Time Will Tell, Barbarella Holiday Special #1, Batman/The Maxx: Arkham Dreams #3, Black AF: Devil’s Dye #1, Border Town #4, Breakneck #1, Cinema Purgatorio #16, Curse Words #18, The Dreaming #4, Gasolina #13, Giant Days: Where Women Glow & Men Plunder #1, Infinity Wars: Infinity Warps #2, Iron Fist #3, Kick-Ass #10, Meanwhile #9, Moth & Whisper #4, Night’s Dominion: Season Three #5, Noble #14, Now #5, Power Rangers: Soul Dragon, Rise of the TMNT #3, Road of the Dead: Highway to Hell #2, Snap Flash Hustle #1, Spider-Geddon Handbook, Spider-Man/Deadpool #43, Star Trek: The Next Generation - Terra Incognita #5, Star Trek vs. Transformers #3, Star Wars #58, Star Wars Adventures: Destroyer Down #3, Umbrella Academy: Hotel Oblivion #3, Unnatural #5, We Are Danger #4, Welcome to Wanderland #3, Wizard Beach #1

Recommended Collections: Black - Volume 1, Chronicles of Hate, Dark Ark - Volume 2, Doctor Strange - Volume 1: Across the Universe Galaktikon - Volume 1, Goldfish, Lumberjanes - Volume 10, The October Faction - Volume 5: Supernatural Dreams, Paper Girls - Volume 5, Paradiso - Volume 2: Dark Dwellers, Rick & Morty - Volume 8, Star Wars: Poe Dameron - Volume 5: Spark Fire, Warship Jolly Roger - Volume 2: Revenge, Wayward - Volume 6: Bound to Fate, Yellow Blue Gray & White Omnibus

d. emerson eddy asks himself regularly, “How did I get here?” This is not his beautiful house. This is not his beautiful wife.

[legatumrpg]

full name: arthur weasley

age: twenty-nine

gender and pronouns: cismale and he/him

blood status: pureblood

occupation: employee of the misuse of muggle artifacts office

affiliation: the order

i n t r o d u c t i o n »

Odd is what they call you and odd is what they get. You never once thought of yourself as odd, but rather as someone with a curious appetite. You are curious to know about the little things in life that no witch or wizard can explain to you. You strive to understand functions of the world that no one asks because you truly believe in your heart that it is important. You never did care what people said behind your back, but sometimes it does get to you, not that you will ever show it. Instead, you focus your energy on your passions. For a moment, you feel as though you can conquer the world.

b i o g r a p h y »

With bright red hair, outspoken opinions, and the most scandalous marriage of the decade, it was no wonder that the Weasley family was rather well-known in 1950s wizarding society. Whether they were famous or infamous, however — well, that was up to the individual. Opinions were rather mixed across the board, but in pureblood circles, they were decidedly the latter. Disdainful scoffs whispered behind lace-gloved fingers that the Weasleys associated with filthy blood. And on top of that, one of their little ginger upstarts stole Cedrella Black. 

However, Septimus Weasley ( said ginger upstart and proud associator of filthy blood ) couldn’t have cared less, and he and his lovely new bride flaunted their happiness whenever the opportunity arose. He had respectfully asked for Cedrella’s hand, and when less-than-politely rejected, promptly eloped with her the following week. The blissfully happy young couple moved to a small cottage near Surrey, welcoming their first child Bilius two years later. 

Bilius was, to say it concisely, a mischievous terror, the bane of Cedrella’s white walls, and the greatest test of Septimus’ limited patience. So when their second child Arthur was born ( a mild, sweet thing, all wide eyes and chubby fists ) they breathed a well-deserved sigh of relief. That was, of course, until they found him at age five rummaging through a muggle rubbish bin with a fistful of assorted office supplies. From that day forward, muggle items of various types and uselessness would appear mysteriously around the house. Some were quite small ( a pile of paperclips ). Some were quite big ( a typewriter ). Most had no apparent function ( a poster advertising canned peas ).

There was something about the muggle world that carried, for lack of a better term, an almost magical allurement for Arthur. So strange, and yet so near! Neither Bilius nor his brother Oliver ( smart as a whip, sly-smiled, and two years younger ) understood this hungry fascination. Whenever Arthur would ramble about one muggle invention or another, they’d simply sigh in the manner that most people did: with amused fondness. However, that’s not to say that they didn’t love each other. In fact, they even liked each other. Despite their differences — Bilius, blindingly alive; Arthur, bright-eyed and curious; Oliver, sharp in tongue and mind — their familial bond was also one of friendship, a treasure that continued into adulthood.

In fact, the strong tie of family was one of the primary factors that shaped Arthur’s childhood. From his parents, he learnt that character was critical and that blood status was not; that love was a choice, even on days that you did not want to love someone. From Bilius, that convention is fine until you found something better, and that a bit of rule-bending wasn’t always so bad. From Oliver, that younger people were often wiser beyond their years, and that Muggle libraries exist where you can check out books on the fundamentals of electromagnetism.

During his Hogwarts years, Arthur found a home in Gryffindor. It seemed only natural that he’d become a lion. The house was the hereditary haunt of many other Weasleys, and Arthur had exhibited an intrinsic predisposition for chivalry from an early age. Despite a fair amount of teasing due to his eccentric interests, Arthur wholeheartedly enjoyed his Hogwarts years. He made friends ( some close, some not ) and a few enemies, experienced several painful growth spurts, scored an O on his Muggle Studies N.E.W.T., and and remained oblivious to Molly Prewett's notorious crush on him for an embarrassingly long time.

Childhood friends to something more, the two of them fell in love with all the awkwardly charming nature of a typical romantic comedy and only half the drama. Well, that is to say, between Molly and Arthur, there wasn’t much drama. There was actually quite a bit of drama when Arthur hurriedly proposed after Molly finished at Hogwarts, and even more drama when they eloped soon after. Septimus voiced his disapproval at such a rash action — marrying after only a year of dating. Cedrella reminded him that he was being a blazingly obvious hypocrite, and that their child’s motives for such a hasty marriage held more validity than their own had held.

While Arthur was still a schoolboy, Voldemort and his followers had crept from the shadows, incepting discord in the wizarding community and infecting it with fear. Every week the Prophet printed news of another disappearance, another death; people whispered protection spells before locking their doors at night. When he’d finished his schooling, Arthur grimly decided that it was now or never. Molly was the woman of his dreams, and he wouldn’t let a nightmare snatch her from his fingers. And so, they married. They didn’t have much, but they had each other, and they had a frankly atrocious old cottage outside of Ottery St. Catchpole. But it was theirs, and it was home.

It’s funny how life can go on in the middle of a war. They bickered, celebrated, brought a lovely baby boy into the world. Life together with little Bill felt easy as breathing. It was natural, secure, in a world where everything felt unsure. But as the darkness began to slink quietly around the edges of their golden happiness, Arthur knew he’d have to fight for his family.

Dumbledore’s invitation to join the Order was the way to ignite Arthur’s conviction into action. Arthur believed strongly in the secret organization, so it was an easy decision to make. His confidence didn’t waver after Charlie’s birth, but when Percy came along and Arthur held him in his arms for the first time, a seed of doubt crept into his mind. He’d always rationalized his risky involvement in the Order as an opportunity to model integrity and bravery for his sons, but what kind of father would he be if he died and left his children and wife? 

Still, hope fluttered in his heart, and Arthur wasn’t ready to accept defeat just yet. He and Molly were blessed with a set of twin boys, Fred and George, who promptly set the curtain on fire with accidental magic only a week after being born. Their house was filled with warmth, laughter, and love. Tragedy had not yet become personal.

That is, until a cold, blustery day in April. Lungs ached, throat raw, a dull pain roaring inside him threatened to tear him to pieces. ( Bilius, who had so often seemed invincible. Bilius, who loomed larger than life. Bilius, who lay lifeless, mouth woodenly flat in a way that sickened Arthur to the core. ) This was the price of fighting for freedom, a bittersweet potion to swallow. He had been fighting for the future of his family, and yet it was crumbling away before his eyes.

And then: Gideon. It was midnight as he held Molly in his arms, the boys already fallen into a fitful sleep. The hollowness pressed harder in his ribcage than emotion ever could, horror choking him at the loss of two family members in such a short amount of time. As he pressed a kiss to Molly’s temple, eyes burning with tears, doubt vanished and his resolve hardened. ( Fierce, determined, grim. )

He’d fight tooth and nail to make sure his children would never experience the pain that threatened to wrench his heart in two. This was for Bilius. This was for Gideon. Arthur would be damned before they died in vain.

c o n n e c t i o n s »

molly weasley » A tale of Romeo and Juliet, except no one dies. You didn’t believe your childhood friend would have turned out to be the one you marry but here you are now. They bring the nonsense in your head to a halt and you know to stay away when their stormy anger released all too well. You may bicker and fight with them but you have never loved anyone as much as you loved them and your little family.

sturgis podmore » You can’t remember a time when you weren’t friends with them. You may have been from different houses but that hardly mattered to you. They are always there for you and you for them. They are someone that you are bound to for the rest of your life and you aren’t about to let your friendship disappear anytime soon.

kingsley shacklebolt » They may be younger than you but you respect them nonetheless. You see greatness within them and for once, someone doesn’t look at you like you are crazy when your passion for Muggle objects overcomes you. You long ago decided that they are going to go far in their career and you have kept a watchful, yet helpful eye on them.

Arthur Weasley is played by SAM CLAFLIN and is TAKEN

[topmixtrends]

IN HIS FASCINATING linked novellas The Garbage Times and White Ibis, Sam Pink exposes the absurdity hidden just below the surface of everyday life. In The Garbage Times, this takes the form of a deep dive into society’s underbelly to reveal the grime most people turn away from when walking down the street: homeless people defecating, rats scurrying, pigeons eating dirty food, drug addicts having illogical conversations. It is all there, and Pink won’t allow the reader to ignore it.

The Garbage Times is an homage to the randomness of life, the inevitability of shit, scum, and death, and the beauty that glimmers amid the filth. The story’s unnamed narrator is a man who deals with all manner of absurd behavior as he loads garbage, plunges toilets and sinks, and works as a bouncer at a bar. Despite the character’s peculiarities, readers will likely find his barrage of thoughts, explosive emotions, fantasies of violence, and bursts of tenderness easy to relate to. Most of us, Pink implies, are more like this “crazy” garbage man than we would like to admit as we “plunge” our way through life trying to get rid of the shit — pun intended.

The narrator is diligent in his job. Surrounded by rats and pigeons, he takes on each clog with vigor and an absence of fear or disgust, and this endless drive to clean up the messes of others — shit seems to be everywhere — takes on a hilarious cast. Throughout, Pink’s profanity-laced prose feels fitting, as it places the reader deep in the minds of characters choking on the so-called civilized world’s muck.

In counterbalance to the crassness and moments of violence that punctuate The Garbage Times, Pink’s narrator shows a deep, humanizing love and respect for women and animals. For example, when he returns home to his cat Rontel, one of his main companions, he thinks,

Inside my apartment, Rontel was lying on the stove — his eyes half closed, wagging his tail.

He went to meow but didn’t make a sound.

He stretched, knocking a metal burner off the stove.

“Come here, my little shithead,” I said.

I picked him up and kissed his head four times real quick.

In a really deep and gravelly voice, I said, “Rontel, you a handsome baby!”

He was blinking a lot and licking his snoot, staring up at the ceiling.

Sun lit my room.

Pink’s fascination with animals continues in White Ibis, in which there is a sad, profound moment where the narrator sympathizes with a lizard trying to defend itself against the housecat Dotty, who is slowly killing it by batting it around:

This lizard was for real.

It looked up at her, gill things puffed out, like “All right, all right yeah, big tough guy, let’s have it. [wipes nose] You wanna pick on someone? Yeah ok, all right, pick on me, tough guy, go ahead and — ” but Dotty just mangled it some more.

She left it broken and mostly dead, on its back, barely breathing.

Since the lizard is suffering, the narrator’s girlfriend pressures him to kill it, and he does:

I smashed the lizard’s head with the heel of my boot. Its guts came out its side. Fuck. You tried. You tried. I get it. Sometimes you just gotta pick a place and say, “Right here. Here’s where it happens. Right here.” Gills out, boss, gills out. R.I.P.

The power, humor, sadness, and tenderness in Pink’s writing is haunting when he is at his best, as in this observation of a turtle at a laundromat aquarium in The Garbage Times:

Short bookcases with aquariums on them — turtles swimming in shallow water.

I watched this one turtle trying to swim through the aquarium wall as I dumped a garbage bag of my clothing into a washer.

The turtle made the same sideways swimming motion with both arms.

The same tap of the head against the glass.

Same tiny wave of water bouncing off the glass and coming backwards.

Each time.

Fucking shit.

This is the beauty of Pink’s work — he shows the simple devastations of containment, of beings (in this case animals) living without dignity but still striving toward hope, over and over again, as we all do, wanting things to come out all right. This is the heart of his message, the essence of his book: we will never stop trying to keep moving no matter how confined we are. No matter how random life is, we press on toward something intangible in the distance with only the will to live fueling us.

In this quest for life and dignity is an equally powerful desire to succumb to death. Its inevitability curls underneath each page, hides in each scene. Morbid readers will really dig this book. As will lovers of the absurd, though the magic of Pink is that he turns the absurd to a purpose. The novellas are hilarious and unabashedly honest in showing how bizarre life is, how unpredictable people are, and yet how each person craves love, dignity, freedom — the fundamental needs we all share. In its surreality and sadness, The Garbage Times leaves readers with an impression of characters living in the grime of the world, amid constant violence and despair, yet striving to rise above and make sense of it all.

Pink is a master of dialogue. He nails slang and the odd way people often misuse or mispronounce words, particularly folks who have been traumatized in some way or just talk funny. For example, in The Garbage Times, the narrator frequents a bar where he has a strange affection for the female bartender, who has a bizarre accent that he imitates good-naturedly:

“Stahhp! Quit maykin me laugh! Oh hey, watch [Regular] over dair. He’s doing the hair ting.”

[Regular] was a Vietnam vet who came in every day

[…]

he was whipping his long hair around, and hiking his pants over his huge belly, sitting at the corner of the bar with a group of people behind him.

His face was totally red and he was talking to himself.

The look on his face was so evil.

I laughed.

The novellas, as eccentric as they are, are grounded in scenes with a powerful sense of authority. And some of Pink’s lines are pure gold, encapsulating some universal truth or humorous insight, or both: “And all the animals headed back to their corners, to wait for tomorrow. Hiding from the things with real teeth and power.”

At the same time, Pink can get carried away. There are moments of overindulgence and repetition where the narrator will pick up a thought and run with it too long. But Pink’s audacity in taking risks is admirable. His style is purposefully messy — he is having fun writing and playing with how obsessive the brain can be. He thrills in breaking convention.

The conversational tone only adds to the humor of these novellas. Despite its odd formatting, the book becomes very readable once the reader adapts to its strange, galloping style. Pink takes the reader on an adventure, and there is a mysterious momentum at work in the voice-driven narrative, a Murakami-like invisible hand that guides these characters with a purpose to press on and preserve dignity, preserve authenticity, through a seemingly sordid, artificial world.

In White Ibis, the unnamed narrator admires the strange, titular bird that walks to and fro at the end of his driveway in Florida, the way it shoots judgmental glances and avoids direct contact with anyone or anything. It serves as a symbol for the narrator’s desire to be free of domestication, of playing along, but he’s torn because he wants to keep his girlfriend and maintain some sense of normalcy. So, while he struggles to get a job, attends parties, and carries on normal conversations, the pull of the white ibis strutting around and doing its own thing perpetually calls to him. When he sees it, he thinks, “I really wanted the white ibis to like me and to be my friend. And to its credit, it — seemingly — did not. Ok. Well. Hell, I understood.”

In pondering the nature of the ibis and all creatures that fight for survival, he articulates the theme that links the two novellas beautifully:

The peacock and other weird non-bad-ass birds like the white ibis seemed hilarious, given evolution.

I imagined all creatures at the beginning of time, right before it all begins, in private, devising their offenses/defenses and then coming out into an open field and revealing them.

Into the field of existence with means to survive.

Like hey, check this out, got a big horn on my face!

In the hands of a lesser writer, the narrator would rebel against being in a relationship and the story would implode with bickering. Instead, the young couple in White Ibis seems genuinely happy and in sync with one another, and she accepts his social anxiety as his to deal with.

White Ibis ends on a tender note. A Girl Scout troop holds a sleepover at the couple’s home, and while the narrator at first resists he ultimately enjoys the girls and their exuberance. He empathizes with their fears about being ugly as he is pressured into drawing their portraits (he is known as “the artist”), and as a result finds unexpected meaning and beauty in connection with other alienated humans.

Reading Sam Pink is an unpredictable experience. He hits varied tones and moods, and readers never know where he is taking them next. He’s been labeled “experimental,” but these novellas are just good fiction. He sucks readers in and makes them see the world as his narrators do. His stories are unique and true and impossible to put down — what more could anyone want?

¤

Taylor Larsen is the author of the novel Stranger, Father, Beloved (Gallery Books/Simon & Schuster, 2016). She teaches fiction writing for Catapult and the Sackett Street Writers Workshop and is co-editor of the literary website The Negatives.

The post The Things with Real Teeth and Power: Two Novellas from Sam Pink appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

from Los Angeles Review of Books https://ift.tt/2HIzASl

[deltamovies]

Ingrid Goes West Free Full HD watch online & movie trailer

Release Year: 2017

Rating: 7.2/10 ( voted)

Critic's Score: /100

Director: Matt Spicer

Stars: Aubrey Plaza, Elizabeth Olsen, O'Shea Jackson Jr.

Storyline Ingrid Thorburn is an unhinged social media stalker with a history of confusing “likes” for meaningful relationships. Taylor Sloane is an Instagram-famous “influencer” whose perfectly curated, boho-chic lifestyle becomes Ingrid's latest obsession. When Ingrid moves to LA and manages to insinuate herself into the social media star's life, their relationship quickly goes from #BFF to #WTF.

Writers: David Branson Smith, Matt Spicer, Aubrey Plaza, Elizabeth Olsen, O'Shea Jackson Jr., Aubrey Plaza, Elizabeth Olsen, O'Shea Jackson Jr., Wyatt Russell, Billy Magnussen, Pom Klementieff, Hannah Pearl Utt, Angelica Amor, Malika Williams, Vincent van Hinte, Tina Lorraine, Aidan Wallace, Jay Weingarten, Megan Griffey, Destiny Soria, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Cast: Aubrey Plaza –

Ingrid Thorburn

Elizabeth Olsen –

Taylor Sloane

O'Shea Jackson Jr. –

Dan Pinto

Wyatt Russell –

Ezra O'Keefe

Billy Magnussen –

Nicky Sloane

Pom Klementieff –

Harley Chung

Hannah Pearl Utt –

Nicole

Angelica Amor –

Cindy

Malika Williams –

Nurse

Vincent van Hinte –

Cashier

Tina Lorraine –

Therapist

Aidan Wallace –

Logan

Jay Weingarten –

Eden

Megan Griffey –

Bar Patron

Destiny Soria –

Cowgirl

Country: USA

Language: English

Release Date: 3 Jan 2017

Technical Specs

Runtime: 97 min

Did You Know?

Trivia: This will be Oshea Jackson Jr's second movie ever his first was playing his father in Straight Outta Compton See more »

User Review

Author:

Rating: 10/10 How would Ingrid operate if not for social media? It occurs to me watching this movie that social media, especially Instagram where pictures probably tell much more about one's life (and with those ever-so leading tells from the little description under the picture, with those hashtags saying the most in the briefest visual communication), doesn't create people to become more isolated and depressed and incensed, but it certainly doesn't do much to help.

In the case of Ingrid, she is someone for who following someone on Instagram is the lifeline into their lives, and if it doesn't create those who are on the outside and need help and don't have it, it exploits it for her. It's possible she could have seen the article about Taylor, the Elizabeth Olsen character – but it's not very likely *Taylor* would have become known as "The Best Friend," seemingly every-so hip and trending, but also a welcome mat for… those who are looking for a friend!

This is one of thoseultra-no-light-whatsoever-black comedies, and it's comedic because we can recognize that low pit of loneliness and despair and cringe along with everyone else as things become intense and estranged and obfuscation and the truth collide (or some of us can – if possible maybe some are secretly more like Taylor, hiding who they are to be much cooler than they really are – or even Taylor's significant other Ezra, who quits his job to become an artist but doesn't sell anything, or maybe Dan is more like it, the would-be screenwriter inspired by Batman Forever – stroke of genius, by the way, that he is *not* inspired by The Dark Knight – or maybe one or two are Taylor's brother Nicky, a real bastard who at least doesn't pretend *too* much about who he is as a character out of a Brett Easton Ellis novel).

In other words, Ingrid Goes West does involve, on paper, one of those psycho-stalker women who we usually see becoming attached to the presumably more together other woman, but that's where the similarities between those kind of movies (mostly) end. The tone is set at the beginning for what one assumes is someone who is off the deep-end as Ingrid f***s with another girl on her wedding. Why this happens is less important than what comes immediately after as she's put into psychiatric care. Will she try to better herself? Hardly, but it would seem like she's not exactly dangerous… at least, not so right away. I'd say there's a bit of the Rupert Pupkin in her, but I'm not sure if she is precisely trying to be *famous* like he was, or has that goal – or, to rephrase it, the goals of Pupkin then and Ingrid now are and aren't the same.

Ingrid sees a way of life and wants to have something as close to that as possible (through certain means that come through a believable plot contrivance, if that makes sense, she doesn't have to work right away and can use the pad via O'Shea Jackson's Batman friend), but it's more than anything about… being friends with someone. It's a fascinating dynamic since the movie is in a large way about her trying to figure out if what Taylor has is what she *really* wants or to have an authentic connection. While Matt Spicer's film (from his and Branson Smith's script) has a lot of wildly funny moments – sometimes through sheer surprise of 'That's genuinely f****ed' but also other times through the simple act of capturing behavior in a wonderfully, insanely exaggerated way – it's about deeper concerns that happen for people who don't, necessarily, have a psycho-stalker hanging around them in the LA hipster-ish-arts scene.

The Instagram and social media aspect is the key; we use these conduits to connect together and, indeed, to show people how we're living our lives (sometimes, as is mentioned casually and briefly but importantly, sometimes if one is lucky one gets *paid* to post such things online like a sponsor, hence Taylor's photography), but it also lessens how to truly connect to a person. I don't imagine Ingrid's mother, who is dead by the start of the movie, used social media, and this is a relationship that mattered a lot and sort of broke Ingrid further than she had been before (I don't also imagine she was ever exactly part of any cliques exactly, but she did have *someone* to connect with face to face on a fundamental level). So by the time a final, crucial confrontation occurs, sort of right before the climax but in the midst of it, what both sides say is true about the other.

Oh, and I should mention about now that the acting here is terrific. Plaza, to be sure, is the stand-out and continues a scorching-all-she-sees hot streak from her recent run on the show Legion (which, in a rather odd way, this *could* be a tangential prequel to, in way, maybe, sorta, I dunno), and she delivers on the awkward/harsh comic timing, and yet more-so on the dramatic level. But while without her, perhaps, the movie doesn't work as well, Olsen and Jackson and even Russell for a couple of crucial scenes stand out as well; Olsen, especially, gets to have a kind of character I'm not sure she's played before, or at least like this, and the layers to her are subtler to go for, and she digs in as much as she can (in a sense her character's most honest time, ironically, is when she's bonding with Ingrid on a drunken/coke-filled free for all, you'll find out why this is, and it makes for an awesomely peculiar dynamic).

The post Ingrid Goes West appeared first on The Movie Entertainment of the 21st Century!.

from http://ift.tt/2ts6zll