#Theo baker

[g-xix]

Pub golf Forfeit // ArthurTV

🙏 xLoving mr ATV eternally 🙏 Content: kinda fluffy ig, extra-long 5k+ wordcount CWs: Alcohol

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‼️READ THIS IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT PUB GOLF IS‼️ (if you do, skip this bold writing and move onto the main story)

Pub golf is a game where you visit a set amount of pubs and get different drinks at each one- and you need to try and finish these drinks without having to lower it, as many times as possible. 

TheBurntChip has used this concept with Harry W2S, ReevHD, Theo Baker, ArthurTV, ChrisMD, George Clarkey, and more- and that is what this oneshot is based around.

KEY TERMS: "Hole" -> the name of the pub. e.g. Hole 3 is the third pub that's been visited "Par" -> Number of sips/gulps it took to finish the drink Forfeit -> self explanatory but whenever the rules are breached/smth bad happens, a forfeit card is pulled and needs to be done. 

Reminder to always drink responsibly as per usual, only drink when you're legally allowed to do so and stay safe when going drinking.

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"ArthurTV and Maddie!"

I turned to look across the line, my eyes meeting Arthur's.

It was my first time doing a pub golf on the TheBurntChip channel and I was somewhat terrified. Sure, I'd known all the other boys ranging from years to just a few months- but I'd grown just as close with George Clarkey, who I had only met a few months ago, to Harry, who I'd known for years, having first met him when big brother Chris and Harry filmed their football videos together.

But one thing that all of the boys knew for certain, was that I had developed a little online crush on ArthurTV. Of all of Chris' friends, I'd never had the pleasure of meeting Mr TV in real life until that moment, when Harry had let it slip to Freezy who'd let it slip to Chip that I liked Arthur... thus Chip DMed an invite to for a pub golf video alongside Harry, Reev, Chris, George Clarkey, Theo Baker, and of course, Arthur.

Oh and as if it wasn't bad enough, Chris, my very own half-brother, knew I had a crush on Arthur.

"That's quite a interesting pairing isn't it, Maddie?" Chris snickered from the side with a grin I knew meant that he was going to have the time of his life teasing me for the next few hours. 

"Bit of a coincidence if you ask me, Chrissy." Harry sneered from besides Chris, making my insides churn.

I wasn't so much a YouTuber as the rest of the boys- I was originally Chris's one and only member of the camera crew and production. In that small bedroom in Jersey, Chris and I would sit together on a desk and make lists of ideas for football challenges, ways to execute them, different shots to make the video dramatic... Then, we would hit the pitches and try to film without the older boys telling us to bugger off so they could play on the pitches.

Then, people started noticing the voice behind the camera, leading to me making a BROTHER VS SISTER  video for the channel, which was only the start of coming in front of the camera more. As Chris hired professional camera men and got set production budgets from serious producers, I was pushed more in front of the camera, making videos with Harry and Chris before lurching into the British YouTube scene, initially gravitating towards the e-boys content, before relocating moreso to reaction content with George Clarkey and Cam Kirkham. 

And we don't talk about that Stephen Tries sketch I attempted.

The fans were pleased with my occasional cameos in videos on the British YouTube channels, always finding new ship names for whoever I collaborated with, or new clips to edit, or rumours to spread... but overall, I couldn't be happier with where I've ended up. 

Well, not where I'd ended up whilst filmed pub golf- right in the middle of Chris and Harry's teasing. 

"How's it a coincidence?" Arthur asked, wide brown eyes swivelling between Harry, Chris and I like a deer caught in headlights.

"Oh, just because I said I uhm..." I started. Shit, quickly Maddie, think of something quickly... My thoughts began racing. Of course Chris would begin hinting towards the fact I had a crush on Arthur not even five minutes into the recording."Chris pointed out on the way here that us two were the only ones that have never collaborated together before... Like, you know... on a video..."

Yes he knows you meant on a video, genius. Great, you sound as thick as a brick now. 

"Oh yeah, that is true actually," Arthur realised, his face lighting up as the thought seemed to land in his head. He was so expressive with his voice- like an animated Pixar character, seemingly straight out of the movie. His voice was so calm, and slightly husky, and somehow matched his face perfectly. "You should come onto the channel if you like watching those 90 day fiancée type of programmes-"

"Arthur's playing the 9 minute fiancée game right now, by the looks of it-" George giggled, nudging me from behind which only made my cheeks burn red, Arthur simply laughing it off before responding.

"Is it working though, Maddie?" Arthur flashed a grin with a quick wink, myself pretending to fall into George's arms and fan myself with my hands, jokefully pretending I was falling for it. 

The real joke was that I wasn't just pretending to fall for it.

Arthur's biggest asset were those fucking eyes. They had me melting with how wide and doe-like they were- his eyes seeming to light up whenever he started a topic that interested him. 

"You're not chatting her up are you, Arthur?" Reev raised his brow and crossed his arms to ask. Out of all of the boys, Reev was the most like a brother in the fact he was so protective- always trying to make sure I was safe. The others were more like brothers in the fact they'd just tease me and get under my skin at every opportunity. 

I watched as Arthur's eyes widened, as he assumed Reev was trying to intimidate him.

"Give him a break, Reev, he's just having a laugh," I defended Arthur, not letting him respond to the allegation in fear that Arthur would shake his head or say that he really wasn't interested in me. That could wait until a few more holes, when I was too peppered to care.

"Well, listen to this you two, for your couples outfit, you two will be going as... The prisoner and the policeman...! or woman!" Chip exclaimed, throwing the outfits to us. 

I looked a the policewoman outfit he had handed to me- the costume coming with a short skirt, unscrupulous tie and lopsided police hat.

This was gonna be a long video...

...

"Hole one, the rule on his hole is that you must drink it with your left hand!"

Hole one was easy. Arthur sent his pint down in one and after Harry and Reev, it was my turn to have my pint of lager. 

"You want me to hold your hair back?" He offered. I searched for a band on my wrist and almost facepalmed as I realised I hadn't thought to bring one.

"Yes please, I completely forgot to get a hairband... Just come up behind me and grab my hair, while I do it" I said, scrunching my face up with realisation of what I'd said only once it had come out of my mouth.

"What was that?" Harry asked, bursting into laughter.

"Get in, Mr TV-"

"Please, not at that at the drinking table-"

"Not on the Chippo YouTube channel, you won't, but I can think of another site where you could-"

"Shut up I didn't mean it like that..." I groaned and put my head in my hands. "Look, I'm just going to send off the pint-"

Arthur's hand wrapped around my hair, the other one on my shoulder, rubbing it and giving soft words of encouragement. I let the drink tip down my throat easily as I felt the face heat up, his words landing hot on the back of my neck and making me want to shiver, despite the fact I was holding the drink. I could feel my face burning when I dropped the glass back down, grinning with the fact I had done it in one...

"That was really good- I didn't think you could finish it in two." Harry commented, nodding his head in surprise.

"I did it in one though?"

"Counted as two points though- you drank it with your right hand." Chip explained with a devious grin. 

Of course I had been stupid enough as to forget the rule- too fixated on gorgeous bloody Arthur instead of what I was actually meant to be doing. Drinking.

"That one's Arthur's fault- Maddie was too distracted by waiting for you to come up behind her-"

"SHUT UP, GEORGE!" Arthur's face went into his hands this time, both of us clearly a blushing mess from all the comments the boys were making. 

...

"What does your forfeit card say?" Arthur asked as we travelled to the next hole, not downcast despite my mess-ups, as we were still in joint second. 

"Sing a song with your partner at one of the holes." I read it off. "Sorry for getting you roped into it..."

"No, no, that's actually one of the only one's I'd happily be roped into," Arthur shook his head. "I suppose we just need to think of a song to sing... You a fan of Harry Potter?"

"Am I?!" I repeated enthusiastically. "You have no idea how much I used to love those books, movies... Even the Cursed Child I went and saw."

"Seriously? I just get called a nerd whenever I say I like Harry Potter," Arthur gawked. "Do you have a wand?"

"Yep, Ginny's wand- black and fourteen inches." I proudly nodded. "You could see those fourteen inches later ya know..."

"Only if you're trying to see a rather bendy, sixteen inch one with waterproofing." Arthur retaliated with confidence. 

"You got Hagrid's wand?"

"Duh, it came with an umbrella."

"Of course that's why you'd get it."

"This is hole two to the left, here!" Chip bellowed from behind. I lagged behind slightly to walk with Chris and Harry- catch up with them for a moment.

"You and Arthur getting cozy, eh?" Chris wiggled his brows, looking forwards to Arthur who was petting a dog with Reev- the both of them looking completely out of place, dressed in a bright orange prisoner jumpsuit and Reev as ketchup bottle (with a hat for a lid)- though the dog seemed pleased nonetheless. 

"Just don't let me catch you two snogging after a few more drinks." Harry put bluntly, making my eyes go wide.

"Just because you guys know I like him doesn't mean he likes me back, unfortunately." I reminded them, though I could feel my heart melting as Arthur scratched the back of the dog's ear and tickled his chin, the dog happily wagging his tail with his tongue lolling out as Arthur pet him. 

"Seems to like you enough." Harry shrugged. "Like you enough to come up behind you and-"

"Seriously shut up... Did I sound that stupid when I said that?"

"Yeah."

"No"

Chris and Harry responded simultaneously.

"Okay you sounded a little flustered when you said it, but then Arthur was blushing and looked shy as well- and everyone knows he's a bit awkward around women he likes," Harry pat my back comfortingly. "If anything he looked like more of a tit than you."

"Great, thanks Harry." I responded, somewhat flatly and yet somewhat happily. 

"Maddie, your team's getting another forfeit because Arthur scared the dog away." Chip addressed me as we neared the bar.

"Like hell he did, that dog loved him!" I exclaimed, head swivelling to find Arthur guiltily wavering his eye contact.

"Theo tried to take the dog away from me by offering it something so I tried to bash him with his wheelchair but the dog got scared and ran off." Arthur explained, kicking at a pebble on the ground. 

"Did you hit Theo?"

"Yes-"

"Well then... At least you hit him."

"What the fuck, Maddie." Theo deadpanned. 

"Don't try steal Arthur's bitches I guess." I shrugged, watching as Arthur withdrew a forfeit card, his face dropping as he read it. 

"What does it say?" I asked, leaning over to try and read it. He smacked it against his chest before shoving it into a pocket, eyes wide as they met my own.

"Uhh- nothing." Arthur spluttered. "We can sort it out when we get to hole five when forfeits are actually activated... What did you say the rule for this hole was, Chip?"

"Drink with your partner holding the glass." Chip responded. 

I looked at Arthur.

"You're quite a bit taller- you're gonna have to crouch down for me to hold it." I realised, picking up the bloody mary and wrinkling my nose. "They really couldn't have picked a worse drink."

"They're foul aren't they." Arthur gave a dirty look to the glass. 

Each pair began seeing their drinks off, using a variety of methods to check whether it was too much or they needed a break.

"Do we need to do the hand-squeeze method to indicate whether it's too much?" Arthur asked, looking distastefully as Reev squeezed Harry's hand, signalling for Harry to tilt more. 

"I'm thinking we just raw-dog it." I shrugged, looking up for Arthur's reaction. He nodded in tasteful agreement.

"That's how I usually do it, anyways."

He picked one glass up. "You first," He stated instead of asking. "And open wide."

Reev gave him a neck-slap and a "Watch it, Arthur..." before I opened my mouth and tilted my head back, finishing it in one. 

"Alright, sit down so you're lower down, Arthur." I spoke through a shudder, the bitterness of the bloody mary giving me a whole-body shiver. 

Picking up a glass, I stood to the side of Arthur and held it up to his face, leaning over slightly due to the awkward angle I stood at. 

"Just come 'ere-" He reached out, steadfastly placing his hands on my hips and manspreading- pulling me between his legs so that I was closer and presumably so that he had a better angle to drink from. I felt my body react to his touch, cheeks warming and knees feeling a bit wobbly as he held his hands there for a moment longer, his grip firm but not forceful. I tried to maintain composure and stop myself from running my hands through his fluffy hair and kissing him right then and there.

"You watch your bloody hands, Arthur." Chris warned, causing Arthur to hold them up by his head as if pleading innocence. As he finally released his hold, I couldn't help but notice how the closeness between us left a lingering sensation, like an electric current still pulsating through my skin. His presence was intoxicating, and I struggled to steadily hold the glass for Arthur to down. I turned to death-glare Chris as I placed the glass back onto the table once Arthur had finished it. 

"Why would anyone voluntarily order that, that's awful... I feel like I've lost my soul after drinking that..." Arthur shivered at the bitterness. "Who knew dementors could be put in drinks..."

Laughing, I sat down besides him and leaned my head against his shoulder as if it were second nature. It felt so natural and cosy against the crook of his neck, and I felt warmed even more as he put his arm around my shoulders, watching in a comfortable silence as Chip choked on his drink from across the table. 

"You're so cute..." I murmured, and only once the words had been said did I regret them slightly. I facepalmed internally as Arthur struggled to reply for a moment, myself wondering why I had to be such a lightweight; only 2 drinks down and already I was making careless comments.

"Am I really cute?" Arthur asked after a moment, and I pulled away from his shoulder to dopily smile at him. 

"Of course you are, you have a cute little smile." I grinned, causing his lips to stretch out into a smile as he laughed slightly, eyes curving into happy little crescents as he did. "See? Cutest smile I've even seen." I giggled, and Arthur looked down with such domestic happiness in his glowing chocolate eyes I felt as though my heart were melting, simply so infatuated with him.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything here-" Harry planted himself between Arthur and I on the bench, forcing Arthur's arm away and my head from his neck. Arthur cleared his throat and looked at the ground whilst Harry looked between Arthur and I. "What, something wrong?" Harry responded to my blank face, before grinning and giving a wink which Arthur couldn't see. 

"Prick," I hissed as I passed Harry on the walk to the third hole, causing Harry to burst into laughs and start explaining to Chris what he's done- only making Chris laugh alongside him. 

Pricks.

...

Hole three was easy- just a glass of wine and pub quiz Arthur and I managed to lose a point at for winning the quiz. 

As the smallest person there, I was also the least able to handle large amounts of alcoholic units- and it had begun showing, from the moment I went to stand up and almost fell back down. 

Arthur had to walk with his arm around me to the next pub, though I wasn't complaining- instead holding his hand and making him skip with me to hole four. 

"Long Island iced teas on this one," Chip explained. "And the rule here is that one member of the team must drink it blindfolded."

"I think I'm more sober than you at the minute," Arthur stated the obvious, as if I hadn't just made him skip to this hole. "I'll wear the blindfold for this one."

"You sure? I'm not completely gone right now, just a bit...Well..." It was a pointless proposition from myself. Arthur just shook his head, handing me the blindfold.

I slipped the material over his eyes, placing the drink on a separate table to that the boys wouldn't dump ice into his drink (which had just happened to Theo's drink), and directing him to the glass- though Chip had better ideas. 

"Maddie, could you please regulated the hand-" Arthur spoke waveringly, and I noticed that Chip had a hand on Arthur's arse.

"Oi, chip-" I reached over for the space hopper which was besides the bag, whacking Chip with it before being hit in the face with it myself.

"Fuck!" We both exclaimed. Arthur had found his glass and drank it in one towards the side, meanwhile Chip found Theo's wheelchair and he began fighting against me and my space hopper. "Chip, I don't think you're gonna win this one," I huffed as the space hopper bounced off of his side, making him stumble slightly. 

"Like shit won't I win- I've been going gym you know-" I cut off his rambles by throwing the hopper at him, causing him to stumble back and trip slightly over the curb so that he was sat on the pavement- allowing me to put my arm around his neck, squeezing only slightly.

"Tap out already, Chip..." I groaned whilst Chip shook his head whilst struggling.

"Chip isn't used to tapping out, he usually passes out before he gets the chance." Theo sneered from the side. That seemed to be enough to make Chip tap out. 

We finished our drinks after that before agreeing on a short grace period, where we sat around and chattered for a few minutes.

"The blindfold makes you feel like, ten times more drunk than you actually are." George said, the other who had worn the blindfold agreeing. 

"You should try it, Maddie- you're by far the most off your head right now- it'll be funny to see how you react to it."

That's how I ended up on the pavement, blindfold on and hands outstretched as Arthur directed me, his fingers occasionally brushing against mine as he'd insisted on walking beside me to make sure I didn't get a concussion from falling over anything.

"Watch the curb here, it's quite difficult navigating- WHOA" As soon as Arthur had said that, I stumbled, almost falling but Arthur held me up from behind whilst the others laughed from the table at my stagger. "You sure you wanna continue? I don't think it's safe, Maddie..."

"It'll be okay, I'm just gonna get back to the table and pull it off..."

I took a few more staggered steps, Arthur holding my hand to guide me whilst I was blinded, his hand warm and reassuring, and I felt confident with Arthur's unwavering presence by my side. His touch sent a gentle electrical ripples down my spine, igniting a spark that brought butterflies to life in my stomach as I focussed less on walking and more on Arthur.

But then I felt a blow to my head- not painful- but extremely forceful.

Some voices screamed "CHIP!" whilst another shouted "Maddie!" as I staggered, waiting to fall- before feeling hands on my back and the crook of my knees, gravity seeming to turn upside down for a moment, before the blindfold was ripped off. 

Arthur's face was above my own, looking forwards as he walked- his two strong arms holding me flush to his body as he carried me in what I assumed was bridal style- having prevented my fall. He looked gorgeous from this angle- his chiselled features accentuated by the soft glow of the sunshine through the dull English clouds- and his eyes, like pools of warm honey, never not making me melt.

"You okay, Maddie?" He looked down and questioned, eyes full of concern and yet also alighting sparks within me as they met my own.

"What? Of course I am... What even happened?" I asked in confusion as I looked back and saw the boys with open mouths looking between myself and Chip, who had a look of upmost guilt on his face. Arthur sat down on one of the seats surrounding the table and lowering me onto that same seat before replying. Nevermind- I was actually sat on his lap, and was NOT going to complain about it.

Chris was going to instead.

"She can sit on her own seat, Arthur-"

"She's almost been bloody ran over, she's sticking with me for now." Arthur huffed resolutely, wrapping his arms around my waist as he spoke to make his point. I felt my head go fuzzy from the touch, leaning back into his touch and resting my head onto his shoulder where it felt like it belonged... Before pulling it back off quickly as I digested his words again.

"Hang on, almost ran over? What the Hell just happened?"

"Chip thought it'd be a good idea to whack you with the space hopper whilst you were blindfolded and he knocked you off balance- you would've fallen into the road if Arthur hadn't got you." Harry explained, a small smile playing on his face. 

"Good man, Arthur." Reev nodded his head approvingly before turning to Chip. "And you, you're no better at handling your drink than her- what if she had gotten run over?"

"Good riddance, in that case." Chip sipped his water calmly, making me throw an ice cube at him.

In the end, Chip made a formal apology (which was of course easily accepted), and drew another forfeit card, having to take 3 shots to make up for almost brutally murdering me- which I thought was very fair. 

Hole five happened so quickly I didn't even register it- though that may have been also due to the knock to the head Chip had delivered. 

However on the walk between hole five to hole six, the alcohol began taking its effect on more people. 

Namely, Chris and Chip.

Chip had found the space hopper once more and began hammering Chris with it whilst Chris balled up onto the ground. "YOU STUPID BOY-" Chip was yelling between blows, Harry and Reev slapping each other between laughs. 

Then, Harry set off on his bike to the next hole as Chip let Chris get up- before we all slung our arms over each other and began the journey to hole 6, singing Backstreet Boys all the way there. 

Arthur lagged behind slightly, and though I was busy singing with Chris and Chip, I did notice they were having quite a hushed conversation, and looking our way every so often.

"Hole six- forfeits are now activated!"

"Can I know your forfeit yet?" I whispered to Arthur, and he simply shook his head with a small smile. 

"I know what it is, Maddie," Reev giggled to the side, rubbing his hands together with a look of glee on his face. 

"Is that what you two were talking about whilst we walked here?" I gasped at the realisation, looking between the two as they shrugged with all-knowing smiles on their faces. 

Hole six was easy- sambuca shots with no hands. I managed mine, though I almost choked it and chipped it when it clattered onto the table- whereas Arthur was found out for trying to dilute his drink, and was made to do two shots instead. 

Still, he didn't seem to be off his head at all.

"Arthurrr," I sang I skipped up to him, on the journey to hole seven.

"Madelyn." He nodded cordially, saying my full name before smirking as he saw my face wrinkle in disgust. "Not a fan of your full name?"

"Not when it's bloody Madelyn, I'm not," I responded, shuddering at the thought.

"Maddie sounds like you're mad," Arthur pondered. "You should just go with... Lyn."

"...Lyn." I repeated, trying to hold a laugh.

"Yeah, it's cute- just like you." Arthur grinned down, making me turn away so he wouldn't see the stupid blush that began spreading across my cheeks.

"Suddenly I quite like that name." I smiled bashfully back, and Arthur just laughed, sliding an arm around me casually and allowing me to rest my head against his shoulder as we walked in a comfortable silence.

"You're so fine, Arthur." I said after a while. "You know I like you?"

"I like you too, Lyn." He patted my head and pulled his arm away, instead slipping his hand into mine as we walked. I didn't feel satisfied with his reaction. Did he not realise I meant that I liked him romantically?

"No, I meant that like- I really like-"

"AND HERE IS HOLE SEVEN!" 

Trust Chip to ruin a romantic moment. 

just an fyi im swapping the order of the holes- everything that happened in the vid at hole 8 is now assumed to have happened at hole 7, and vice versa

"Lyn I don't think I an do another pint," Arthur put down two drinks onto the table before sitting on my lap instead of the bench, allowing me to plop my policeman hat onto his head and hug him from behind, shaking my head.

"I've been finished since hole three, Arthur- I don't care what happens now, you can just sip the whole thing and I'll be fine with that." I groaned. "I'm definitely doing this in at least three different pars..."

I did exactly that. Arthur managed his in five, alongside my words of encouragement which made Chip awhhh.

"I love how everyone hates each other and is beating each other with the space hopper between holes whilst Arthur and Maddie are too busy holding hands and being wholesome with each other, walking alone to each hole." Chip said with a disoriented smile at one of the cameras, louder than he thought he was being as both myself and Arthur watched him say it to the camera.

"Bit early to be holding hands isn't it?" Chris asked, dopily swinging his head back to Arthur and I, only just registering Arthur was also sat on my lap. "Naughty, don't be sitting on each others laps like I have no idea what's going in where when someone sits on someone's lap-"

"That's enough from you, Chris." I shushed my brother, pressing a hand to his mouth which weakly attempted to paw away from his mouth.

"On to hole eight, final hole?" Chip proposed and everyone nodded in agreement- all too ready to get this over and done with.

"I don't think I've ever been this drunk before." I admitted to Arthur as we exited the pub, hands clasped together and swinging joyfully back and forth as we walked, as though we were kids. "I feel like I'm not even walking."

"And now you really aren't even walking," Arthur said as he placed his arms on my legs and back, scooping me back into his arms, carrying me as though I were nothing. I wrapped my arms around his neck and stared up at his face I'd grown so fond of over these past few hours. 

"What song d'you wanna sing for my forfeit at the next hole?" I questioned, myself also wondering what we could sing. 

"Oh it'll come to us when we get there..." Arthur spoke lazily, jumping me up to readjust my grip causing me to let out a squeak before relaxing against his body. Did he have abs under that shirt? It felt like it. He is so fine. 

My thoughts died out as I realised this was the final hole and after this it would be all over. Thank God. 

We all clinked our jaeger bombs together, the lightweight drink easily going down in one for everyone before Chip reminded Arthur and I that we still had forfeits we had to complete.

"What is your forfeit Arthur?" Harry asked inquisitively- somehow looking as though he hadn't had a single drink, although he had in fact had the most, having ordered an extra pint for good measure.

"That's what I'm asking- he still hasn't told me, either!" I exclaimed, looking for Arthur to give his game up and show the card. "C'mon, surely you can reveal it now that it's the last hole-"

"Not before you do your forfeit-song to the bar- look- they have a karaoke machine nobody's using there, go use it before someone else takes it!" Arthur rushed, pointing at the TV screen connected to a microphone and speakers. The other boys began clamouring their agreement before pushing me up to the stage, a bundle of nerves as I stumbled up the stairs, slotting a coin into the machine and waiting for the next song to come on. 

"ArthurTV this is a GROUP FORFEIT- GET UP ONTO THE STAGE!" I shouted and held a hand out to Arthur, causing him to take my hand and get onto the stage with the help of the boys, as they cheered upon hearing the first few chords of the infamous song we were only singing a few hours ago.

I Want it That Way, by the Backstreet Boys. Of course. 

I held the mic out for Arthur to hold with me as we sang the first line.

You are... My fi-ire, the one... desi-ire

I opened my eyes and faced Arthur, the look of joy melted into his caramel eyes and making me feel soft and gentle hearted as we went to sing the next line.

Believe... When I say... THAT I WANT IT THAT WAY

I looked out to the crowd and saw that some tables had turned to face us, singing alongside the tune- and all the other boys had huddled together, arms around each other and swaying back and forth as they joined us for the chorus. 

Tell me why Ain't nothin' but a heartache

Arthur closed his eyes as he virtually shouted the lyrics into the microphone, getting so into the song I had to pause to laugh before continuing

Tell me why Ain't nothin' but a mistake Tell me why I never wanna hear you say

Arthur and I leaned it to sing the final bit of the song, heartily enjoying as the rest of the bar joined us to finish it.

I want it that way

I looked at Arthur, his own eyes meeting me own- full of a tender sort of love I had only ever seen in the movies...

Cause I want it that way...

The song ended with whistles and claps from the rest of the bar, before I dropped the microphone to the ground, wheeling around to face Arthur with a squeal and outstretched arms, as my arms wrapped around his neck, his arms found my waist, pulling me right off of the floor as he hugged me, spinning me around once before I pulled my head off of his chest and looked up at his glowing face.

My eyes only flickered down to his lips for a milisecond before I felt his on top of my own, a billion tiny fireflies lighting up and racing around my stomach as I closed my eyes, relaxing into his hands which were positioned lazily around my waist, holding me lovingly as his lips caressed my own, tuning out the world around us as I focussed on just him and I- together - his lips perfectly top of mine.

...

"What was your forfeit in the end, Arthur?" I asked, eyebrows scrunched as I sat on his lap at the table- arms around his neck and my police hat and tie around Arthur's neck. 

Theo was close to nodding off whilst Chip besides him already had. Chris had taken to the stage, wowing the bar with his drunk dancing and (not) killer vocals. Harry, George and Reev still seemed alright however, and were sat making warm conversation around the table, laughing and joking like there was nothing wrong. And truly- there was nothing wrong.

Arthur smiled slightly at my question before tugging at his pocket and pulling out the card, sharpie pen scrawled across it saying:

Give a kiss to the fittest person in the group xoxo (Doesn't have to be on the lips, Chip- we know you will anyways, but everyone else- just know you don't need to go that deep)

I laughed at the bracketed side-note before looking up to Arthur who smiled goofily down at me, looking so pleased- as though he wouldn't rather have anyone else in his arms.

My hand found the side of his face, thumb tracing his jawline and running up his cheeks before padding at his lips. Closing my eyes, I leaned it, finding his lips as we kissed once more, still with the afterglow of embers burning in my heart as I realised I couldn't be happier in anyone else's arms. 

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I love this pic!💘 (also I may or may not have a Wroetoshaw eras toor fic in the works, per a request😌)

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Insta stories from the Sidemen charity match 2023 pt.2

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me and the girls during PE waiting for our turn at rounders

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LONG LONG LIVE!!!

[louiisaaah]

i love watching chrismd videos i can always guarantee there's at least one epic fall that i'll replay for about 3 mins before watching the rest of the vid

[riotinyellow]

I'm really fucking excited for the next charity match(the edits of the players)

I really want to see willne, niko, and yung filly

heard max fosh is also going to be there, so that's fun

and kai cenat ? is he even out of custody yet ?how is he playing ?

also, xqc is playing, but judging from his streaming practices, he's probably just going to ride on other people's kicks and goals

but other than the match and the players, the part I'm looking forward to the most is, of course. Stephen tries commentary, aka top-tier comedy

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Theo Baker

Published: Mar 26, 2024

One of the section leaders for my computer-science class, Hamza El Boudali, believes that President Joe Biden should be killed. “I’m not calling for a civilian to do it, but I think a military should,” the 23-year-old Stanford University student told a small group of protesters last month. “I’d be happy if Biden was dead.” He thinks that Stanford is complicit in what he calls the genocide of Palestinians, and that Biden is not only complicit but responsible for it. “I’m not calling for a vigilante to do it,” he later clarified, “but I’m saying he is guilty of mass murder and should be treated in the same way that a terrorist with darker skin would be (and we all know terrorists with dark skin are typically bombed and drone striked by American planes).” El Boudali has also said that he believes that Hamas’s October 7 attack was a justifiable act of resistance, and that he would actually prefer Hamas rule America in place of its current government (though he clarified later that he “doesn’t mean Hamas is perfect”). When you ask him what his cause is, he answers: “Peace.”

I switched to a different computer-science section.

Israel is 7,500 miles away from Stanford’s campus, where I am a sophomore. But the Hamas invasion and the Israeli counterinvasion have fractured my university, a place typically less focused on geopolitics than on venture-capital funding for the latest dorm-based tech start-up. Few students would call for Biden’s head—I think—but many of the same young people who say they want peace in Gaza don’t seem to realize that they are in fact advocating for violence. Extremism has swept through classrooms and dorms, and it is becoming normal for students to be harassed and intimidated for their faith, heritage, or appearance—they have been called perpetrators of genocide for wearing kippahs, and accused of supporting terrorism for wearing keffiyehs. The extremism and anti-Semitism at Ivy League universities on the East Coast have attracted so much media and congressional attention that two Ivy presidents have lost their jobs. But few people seem to have noticed the culture war that has taken over our California campus.

For four months, two rival groups of protesters, separated by a narrow bike path, faced off on Stanford’s palm-covered grounds. The “Sit-In to Stop Genocide” encampment was erected by students in mid-October, even before Israeli troops had crossed into Gaza, to demand that the university divest from Israel and condemn its behavior. Posters were hung equating Hamas with Ukraine and Nelson Mandela. Across from the sit-in, a rival group of pro-Israel students eventually set up the “Blue and White Tent” to provide, as one activist put it, a “safe space” to “be a proud Jew on campus.” Soon it became the center of its own cluster of tents, with photos of Hamas’s victims sitting opposite the rubble-ridden images of Gaza and a long (and incomplete) list of the names of slain Palestinians displayed by the students at the sit-in.

Some days the dueling encampments would host only a few people each, but on a sunny weekday afternoon, there could be dozens. Most of the time, the groups tolerated each other. But not always. Students on both sides were reportedly spit on and yelled at, and had their belongings destroyed. (The perpetrators in many cases seemed to be adults who weren’t affiliated with Stanford, a security guard told me.) The university put in place round-the-clock security, but when something actually happened, no one quite knew what to do.

Stanford has a policy barring overnight camping, but for months didn’t enforce it, “out of a desire to support the peaceful expression of free speech in the ways that students choose to exercise that expression”—and, the administration told alumni, because the university feared that confronting the students would only make the conflict worse. When the school finally said the tents had to go last month, enormous protests against the university administration, and against Israel, followed.

“We don’t want no two states! We want all of ’48!” students chanted, a slogan advocating that Israel be dismantled and replaced by a single Arab nation. Palestinian flags flew alongside bright “Welcome!” banners left over from new-student orientation. A young woman gave a speech that seemed to capture the sense of urgency and power that so many students here feel. “We are Stanford University!” she shouted. “We control things!”

“We’ve had protests in the past,” Richard Saller, the university’s interim president, told me in November—about the environment, and apartheid, and Vietnam. But they didn’t pit “students against each other” the way that this conflict has.

I’ve spoken with Saller, a scholar of Roman history, a few times over the past six months in my capacity as a student journalist. We first met in September, a few weeks into his tenure. His predecessor, Marc Tessier-Lavigne, had resigned as president after my reporting for The Stanford Daily exposed misconduct in his academic research. (Tessier-Lavigne had failed to retract papers with faked data over the course of 20 years. In his resignation statement, he denied allegations of fraud and misconduct; a Stanford investigation determined that he had not personally manipulated data or ordered any manipulation but that he had repeatedly “failed to decisively and forthrightly correct mistakes” from his lab.)

In that first conversation, Saller told me that everyone was “eager to move on” from the Tessier-Lavigne scandal. He was cheerful and upbeat. He knew he wasn’t staying in the job long; he hadn’t even bothered to move into the recently vacated presidential manor. In any case, campus, at that time, was serene. Then, a week later, came October 7.

The attack was as clear a litmus test as one could imagine for the Middle East conflict. Hamas insurgents raided homes and a music festival with the goal of slaughtering as many civilians as possible. Some victims were raped and mutilated, several independent investigations found. Hundreds of hostages were taken into Gaza and many have been tortured.

This, of course, was bad. Saying this was bad does not negate or marginalize the abuses and suffering Palestinians have experienced in Gaza and elsewhere. Everyone, of every ideology, should be able to say that this was bad. But much of this campus failed that simple test.

Two days after the deadliest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, Stanford released milquetoast statements marking the “moment of intense emotion” and declaring “deep concern” over “the crisis in Israel and Palestine.” The official statements did not use the words Hamas or violence.

The absence of a clear institutional response led some teachers to take matters into their own hands. During a mandatory freshman seminar on October 10, a lecturer named Ameer Loggins tossed out his lesson plan to tell students that the actions of the Palestinian “military force” had been justified, that Israelis were colonizers, and that the Holocaust had been overemphasized, according to interviews I conducted with students in the class. Loggins then asked the Jewish students to identify themselves. He instructed one of them to “stand up, face the window, and he kind of kicked away his chair,” a witness told me. Loggins described this as an effort to demonstrate Israel’s treatment of Palestinians. (Loggins did not reply to a request for comment; a spokesperson for Stanford said that there were “different recollections of the details regarding what happened” in the class.)

“We’re only in our third week of college, and we’re afraid to be here,” three students in the class wrote in an email that night to administrators. “This isn’t what Stanford was supposed to be.” The class Loggins taught is called COLLEGE, short for “Civic, Liberal, and Global Education,” and it is billed as an effort to develop “the skills that empower and enable us to live together.”

Loggins was suspended from teaching duties and an investigation was opened; this angered pro-Palestine activists, who organized a petition that garnered more than 1,700 signatures contesting the suspension. A pamphlet from the petitioners argued that Loggins’s behavior had not been out of bounds.

The day after the class, Stanford put out a statement written by Saller and Jenny Martinez, the university provost, more forcefully condemning the Hamas attack. Immediately, this new statement generated backlash.

Pro-Palestine activists complained about it during an event held the same day, the first of several “teach-ins” about the conflict. Students gathered in one of Stanford’s dorms to “bear witness to the struggles of decolonization.” The grievances and pain shared by Palestinian students were real. They told of discrimination and violence, of frightened family members subjected to harsh conditions. But the most raucous reaction from the crowd was in response to a young woman who said, “You ask us, do we condemn Hamas? Fuck you!” She added that she was “so proud of my resistance.”

David Palumbo-Liu, a professor of comparative literature with a focus on postcolonial studies, also spoke at the teach-in, explaining to the crowd that “European settlers” had come to “replace” Palestine’s “native population.”

Palumbo-Liu is known as an intelligent and supportive professor, and is popular among students, who call him by his initials, DPL. I wanted to ask him about his involvement in the teach-in, so we met one day in a café a few hundred feet away from the tents. I asked if he could elaborate on what he’d said at the event about Palestine’s native population. He was happy to expand: This was “one of those discussions that could go on forever. Like, who is actually native? At what point does nativism lapse, right? Well, you haven’t been native for X number of years, so …” In the end, he said, “you have two people who both feel they have a claim to the land,” and “they have to live together. Both sides have to cede something.”

The struggle at Stanford, he told me, “is to find a way in which open discussions can be had that allow people to disagree.” It’s true that Stanford has utterly failed in its efforts to encourage productive dialogue. But I still found it hard to reconcile DPL’s words with his public statements on Israel, which he’d recently said on Facebook should be “the most hated nation in the world.” He also wrote: “When Zionists say they don’t feel ‘safe’ on campus, I’ve come to see that as they no longer feel immune to criticism of Israel.” He continued: “Well as the saying goes, get used to it.”

Zionists, and indeed Jewish students of all political beliefs, have been given good reason to fear for their safety. They’ve been followed, harassed, and called derogatory racial epithets. At least one was told he was a “dirty Jew.” At least twice, mezuzahs have been ripped from students’ doors, and swastikas have been drawn in dorms. Arab and Muslim students also face alarming threats. The computer-science section leader, El Boudali, a pro-Palestine activist, told me he felt “safe personally,” but knew others who did not: “Some people have reported feeling like they’re followed, especially women who wear the hijab.”

In a remarkably short period of time, aggression and abuse have become commonplace, an accepted part of campus activism. In January, Jewish students organized an event dedicated to ameliorating anti-Semitism. It marked one of Saller’s first public appearances in the new year. Its topic seemed uncontroversial, and I thought it would generate little backlash.

Protests began before the panel discussion even started, with activists lining the stairs leading to the auditorium. During the event they drowned out the panelists, one of whom was Israel’s special envoy for combating anti-Semitism, by demanding a cease-fire. After participants began cycling out into the dark, things got ugly.

Activists, their faces covered by keffiyehs or medical masks, confronted attendees. “Go back to Brooklyn!” a young woman shouted at Jewish students. One protester, who emerged as the leader of the group, said that she and her compatriots would “take all of your places and ensure Israel falls.” She told attendees to get “off our fucking campus” and launched into conspiracy theories about Jews being involved in “child trafficking.” As a rabbi tried to leave the event, protesters pursued him, chanting, “There is only one solution! Intifada revolution!”

At one point, some members of the group turned on a few Stanford employees, including another rabbi, an imam, and a chaplain, telling them, “We know your names and we know where you work.” The ringleader added: “And we’ll soon find out where you live.” The religious leaders formed a protective barrier in front of the Jewish students. The rabbi and the imam appeared to be crying.

Saller avoided the protest by leaving through another door. Early that morning, his private residence had been vandalized. Protesters frequently tell him he “can’t hide” and shout him down. “We charge you with genocide!” they chant, demanding that Stanford divest from Israel. (When asked whether Stanford actually invested in Israel, a spokesperson replied that, beyond small exposures from passive funds that track indexes such as the S&P 500, the university’s endowment “has no direct holdings in Israeli companies, or direct holdings in defense contractors.”)

When the university finally said the protest tents had to be removed, students responded by accusing Saller of suppressing their right to free speech. This is probably the last charge he expected to face. Saller once served as provost at the University of Chicago, which is known for holding itself to a position of strict institutional neutrality so that its students can freely explore ideas for themselves. Saller has a lifelong belief in First Amendment rights. But that conviction in impartial college governance does not align with Stanford’s behavior in recent years. Despite the fact that many students seemed largely uninterested in the headlines before this year, Stanford’s administrative leadership has often taken positions on political issues and events, such as the Paris climate conference and the murder of George Floyd. After Russia invaded Ukraine, Stanford’s Hoover Tower was lit up in blue and yellow, and the school released a statement in solidarity.

When we first met, a week before October 7, I asked Saller about this. Did Stanford have a moral duty to denounce the war in Ukraine, for example, or the ethnic cleansing of Uyghur Muslims in China? “On international political issues, no,” he said. “That’s not a responsibility for the university as a whole, as an institution.”

But when Saller tried to apply his convictions on neutrality for the first time as president, dozens of faculty members condemned the response, many pro-Israel alumni were outraged, donors had private discussions about pulling funding, and an Israeli university sent an open letter to Saller and Martinez saying, “Stanford’s administration has failed us.” The initial statement had tried to make clear that the school’s policy was not Israel-specific: It noted that the university would not take a position on the turmoil in Nagorno-Karabakh (where Armenians are undergoing ethnic cleansing) either. But the message didn’t get through.

Saller had to beat an awkward retreat or risk the exact sort of public humiliation that he, as caretaker president, had presumably been hired to avoid. He came up with a compromise that landed somewhere in the middle: an unequivocal condemnation of Hamas’s “intolerable atrocities” paired with a statement making clear that Stanford would commit to institutional neutrality going forward.

“The events in Israel and Gaza this week have affected and engaged large numbers of students on our campus in ways that many other events have not,” the statement read. “This is why we feel compelled to both address the impact of these events on our campus and to explain why our general policy of not issuing statements about news events not directly connected to campus has limited the breadth of our comments thus far, and why you should not expect frequent commentary from us in the future.”

I asked Saller why he had changed tack on Israel and not on Nagorno-Karabakh. “We don’t feel as if we should be making statements on every war crime and atrocity,” he told me. This felt like a statement in and of itself.

In making such decisions, Saller works closely with Martinez, Stanford’s provost. I happened to interview her, too, a few days before October 7, not long after she’d been appointed. When I asked about her hopes for the job, she said that a “priority is ensuring an environment in which free speech and academic freedom are preserved.”

We talked about the so-called Leonard Law—a provision unique to California that requires private universities to be governed by the same First Amendment protections as public ones. This restricts what Stanford can do in terms of penalizing speech, putting it in a stricter bind than Harvard, the University of Pennsylvania, or any of the other elite private institutions that have more latitude to set the standards for their campus (whether or not they have done so).

So I was surprised when, in December, the university announced that abstract calls for genocide “clearly violate Stanford’s Fundamental Standard, the code of conduct for all students at the university.” The statement was a response to the outrage following the congressional testimony of three university presidents—outrage that eventually led to the resignation of two of them, Harvard’s Claudine Gay and Penn’s Liz Magill. Gay and Magill, who had both previously held positions at Stanford, did not commit to punishing calls for the genocide of Jews.

Experts told me that Stanford’s policy is impossible to enforce—and Saller himself acknowledged as much in our March interview.

“Liz Magill is a good friend,” Saller told me, adding, “Having watched what happened at Harvard and Penn, it seemed prudent” to publicly state that Stanford rejected calls for genocide. But saying that those calls violate the code of conduct “is not the same thing as to say that we could actually punish it.”

Stanford’s leaders seem to be trying their best while adapting to the situation in real time. But the muddled messaging has created a policy of neutrality that does not feel neutral at all.

When we met back in November, I tried to get Saller to open up about his experience running an institution in turmoil. What’s it like to know that so many students seem to believe that he—a mild-mannered 71-year-old classicist who swing-dances with his anthropologist wife—is a warmonger? Saller was more candid than I expected—perhaps more candid than any prominent university president has been yet. We sat in the same conference room as we had in September. The weather hadn’t really changed. Yet I felt like I was sitting in front of a different person. He was hunched over and looked exhausted, and his voice broke when he talked about the loss of life in Gaza and Israel and “the fact that we’re caught up in it.” A capable administrator with decades of experience, Saller seemed almost at a loss. “It’s been a kind of roller coaster, to be honest.”

He said he hadn’t anticipated the deluge of the emails “blaming me for lack of moral courage.” Anything the university says seems bound to be wrong: “If I say that our position is that we grieve over the loss of innocent lives, that in itself will draw some hostile reactions.”

“I find that really difficult to navigate,” he said with a sigh.

By March, it seemed that his views had solidified. He said he knew he was “a target,” but he was not going to be pushed into issuing any more statements. The continuing crisis seems to have granted him new insight. “I am certain that whatever I say will not have any material effect on the war in Gaza.” It’s hard to argue with that.

People tend to blame the campus wars on two villains: dithering administrators and radical student activists. But colleges have always had dithering administrators and radical student activists. To my mind, it’s the average students who have changed.

Elite universities attract a certain kind of student: the overachieving striver who has won all the right accolades for all the right activities. Is it such a surprise that the kids who are trained in the constant pursuit of perfect scores think they have to look at the world like a series of multiple-choice questions, with clearly right or wrong answers? Or that they think they can gamify a political cause in the same way they ace a standardized test?

Everyone knows that the only reliable way to get into a school like Stanford is to be really good at looking really good. Now that they’re here, students know that one easy way to keep looking good is to side with the majority of protesters, and condemn Israel.

It’s not that there isn’t real anger and anxiety over what is happening in Gaza—there is, and justifiably so. I know that among the protesters are many people who are deeply connected to this issue. But they are not the majority. What really activates the crowds now seems less a principled devotion to Palestine or to pacifism than a desire for collective action, to fit in by embracing the fashionable cause of the moment—as if a centuries-old conflict in which both sides have stolen and killed could ever be a simple matter of right and wrong. In their haste to exhibit moral righteousness, many of the least informed protesters end up being the loudest and most uncompromising.

Today’s students grew up in the Trump era, in which violent rhetoric has become a normal part of political discourse and activism is as easy as reposting an infographic. Many young people have come to feel that being angry is enough to foment change. Furious at the world’s injustices and desperate for a simple way to express that fury, they don’t seem interested in any form of engagement more nuanced than backing a pure protagonist and denouncing an evil enemy. They don’t, always, seem that concerned with the truth.

At the protest last month to prevent the removal of the sit-in, an activist in a pink Women’s March “pussy hat” shouted that no rape was committed by Hamas on October 7. “There hasn’t been proof of these rape accusations,” a student told me in a separate conversation, criticizing the Blue and White Tent for spreading what he considered to be misinformation about sexual violence. (In March, a United Nations report found “reasonable grounds to believe that conflict-related sexual violence,” including “rape and gang rape,” occurred in multiple locations on October 7, as well as “clear and convincing information” on the “rape and sexualized torture” of hostages.) “The level of propaganda” surrounding Hamas, he told me, “is just unbelievable.”

The real story at Stanford is not about the malicious actors who endorse sexual assault and murder as forms of resistance, but about those who passively enable them because they believe their side can do no wrong. You don’t have to understand what you’re arguing for in order to argue for it. You don’t have to be able to name the river or the sea under discussion to chant “From the river to the sea.” This kind of obliviousness explains how one of my friends, a gay activist, can justify Hamas’s actions, even though it would have the two of us—an outspoken queer person and a Jewish reporter—killed in a heartbeat. A similar mentality can exist on the other side: I have heard students insist on the absolute righteousness of Israel yet seem uninterested in learning anything about what life is like in Gaza.

I’m familiar with the pull of achievement culture—after all, I’m a product of the same system. I fell in love with Stanford as a 7-year-old, lying on the floor of an East Coast library and picturing all the cool technology those West Coast geniuses were dreaming up. I cried when I was accepted; I spent the next few months scrolling through the course catalog, giddy with anticipation. I wanted to learn everything.

I learned more than I expected. Within my first week here, someone asked me: “Why are all Jews so rich?” In 2016, when Stanford’s undergraduate senate had debated a resolution against anti-Semitism, one of its members argued that the idea of “Jews controlling the media, economy, government, and other societal institutions” represented “a very valid discussion.” (He apologized, and the resolution passed.) In my dorm last year, a student discussed being Jewish and awoke the next day to swastikas and a portrait of Hitler affixed to his door.

I grew up secularly, with no strong affiliation to Jewish culture. When I found out as a teenager that some of my ancestors had hidden their identity from their children and that dozens of my relatives had died in the Holocaust (something no living member of my family had known), I felt the barest tremor of identity. After I saw so many people I know cheering after October 7, I felt something stronger stir. I know others have experienced something similar. Even a professor texted me to say that she felt Jewish in a way she never had before.

But my frustration with the conflict on campus has little to do with my own identity. Across the many conversations and hours of formal interviews I conducted for this article, I’ve encountered a persistent anti-intellectual streak. I’ve watched many of my classmates treat death so cavalierly that they can protest as a pregame to a party. Indeed, two parties at Stanford were reported to the university this fall for allegedly making people say “Fuck Israel” or “Free Palestine” to get in the door. A spokesperson for the university said it was “unable to confirm the facts of what occurred,” but that it had “met with students involved in both parties to make clear that Stanford’s nondiscrimination policy applies to parties.” As a friend emailed me not long ago: “A place that was supposed to be a sanctuary from such unreason has become a factory for it.”

Readers may be tempted to discount the conduct displayed at Stanford. After all, the thinking goes, these are privileged kids doing what they always do: embracing faux-radicalism in college before taking jobs in fintech or consulting. These students, some might say, aren’t representative of America.

And yet they are representative of something: of the conduct many of the most accomplished students in my generation have accepted as tolerable, and what that means for the future of our country. I admire activism. We need people willing to protest what they see as wrong and take on entrenched systems of repression. But we also need to read, learn, discuss, accept the existence of nuance, embrace diversity of thought, and hold our own allies to high standards. More than ever, we need universities to teach young people how to do all of this.

For so long, Stanford’s physical standoff seemed intractable. Then, in early February, a storm swept in, and the natural world dictated its own conclusion.

Heavy rains flooded campus. For hours, the students battled to save their tents. The sit-in activists used sandbags and anything else they could find to hold back the water—at one point, David Palumbo-Liu, the professor, told me he stood in the lashing downpour to anchor one of the sit-in’s tents with his own body. When the storm hit, many of the Jewish activists had been attending a discussion on anti-Semitism. They raced back and struggled to salvage the Blue and White Tent, but it was too late—the wind had ripped it out of the ground.

The next day, the weary Jewish protesters returned to discover that their space had been taken.

A new collection of tents had been set up by El Boudali, the pro-Palestine activist, and a dozen friends. He said they were there to protest Islamophobia and to teach about Islam and jihad, and that they were a separate entity from the Sit-In to Stop Genocide, though I observed students cycling between the tents. Palestinian flags now flew from the bookstore to the quad.

Administrators told me they’d quickly informed El Boudali and his allies that the space had been reserved by the Jewish advocates, and offered to help move them to a different location. But the protesters told me they had no intention of going. (El Boudali later said that they did not take over the entire space, and would have been “happy to exist side by side, but they wanted to kick us off entirely from that lawn.”)

When it was clear that the area where they’d set up their tents would not be ceded back to the pro-Israel group willingly, Stanford changed course and decided to clear everyone out in one fell swoop. On February 8, school officials ordered all students to vacate the plaza overnight. The university was finally going to enforce its rule prohibiting people from sleeping outside on campus and requiring the removal of belongings from the plaza between 8 p.m. and 8 a.m. The order cited the danger posed by the storm as a justification for changing course and, probably hoping to avoid allegations of bias, described the decision as “viewpoint-neutral.”

That didn’t work.

About a week of protests, led by the sit-in organizers, followed. Chants were chanted. More demands for a “river to the sea” solution to the Israel problem were made. A friend boasted to me about her willingness to be arrested. Stanford sent a handful of staff members, who stood near balloons left over from an event earlier in the day. They were there, one of them told me, to “make students feel supported and safe.”

In the end, Saller and Martinez agreed to talk with the leaders of the sit-in about their demands to divest the university and condemn Israel, under the proviso that the activists comply with Stanford’s anti-camping guidelines “regardless of the outcome of discussions.” Eight days after they were first instructed to leave, 120 days after setting up camp, the sit-in protesters slept in their own beds. In defiance of the university’s instructions, they left behind their tents. But sometime in the very early hours of the morning, law-enforcement officers confiscated the structures. The area was cordoned off without any violence and the plaza filled once more with electric skateboards and farmers’ markets.

The conflict continues in its own way. Saller was just shouted down by protesters chanting “No peace on stolen land” at a Family Weekend event, and protesters later displayed an effigy of him covered in blood. Students still feel tense; Saller still seems worried. He told me that the university is planning to change all manner of things—residential-assistant training, new-student orientation, even the acceptance letters that students receive—in hopes of fostering a culture of greater tolerance. But no campus edict or panel discussion can address a problem that is so much bigger than our university.

At one rally last fall, a speaker expressed disillusionment about the power of “peaceful resistance” on college campuses. “What is there left to do but to take up arms?” The crowd cheered as he said Israel must be destroyed. But what would happen to its citizens? I’d prefer to believe that most protesters chanting “Palestine is Arab” and shouting that we must “smash the Zionist settler state” don’t actually think Jews should be killed en masse. But can one truly be so ignorant as to advocate widespread violence in the name of peace?

When the world is rendered in black-and-white—portrayed as a simple fight between colonizer and colonized—the answer is yes. Solutions, by this logic, are absolute: Israel or Palestine, nothing in between. Either you support liberation of the oppressed or you support genocide. Either Stanford is all good or all bad; all in favor of free speech or all authoritarian; all anti-Semitic or all Islamophobic.

At January’s anti-anti-Semitism event, I watched an exchange between a Jewish attendee and a protester from a few feet away. “Are you pro-Palestine?” the protester asked.

“Yes,” the attendee responded, and he went on to describe his disgust with the human-rights abuses Palestinians have faced for years.

“But are you a Zionist?”

“Yes.”

“Then we are enemies.”

[hoechlinsdicksblog]

Los chicos universitarios son los más divertidos 🏈

Última parte de la trilogía de “Follándome al nerd” - “Clases privadas”

[FanFic aún sin escribir. Disponible pronto]

Theo Raeken inicia su vida universitaria en la Devenford College, sin imaginar que el reinado del cuál gozaba en su antigua escuela ya no tiene ningún valor.

¿Tendrá que perder su dignidad y dejar a un lado su vanidad y frialdad para poder encajar?

[teenagedirtstache]

[framemygazepls]

Why are teens climbing into bedroom windows?

A video essay I made on the trope of teens climbing into bedroom windows in film and tv! Here’s the hyperlink! While I think there can be positives to the trope, in this video essay, I discuss how the trope can perpetuate some problematic myths about romance and consent.

[g-xix]

I just have so many conflicted feeling about this.

a) this is so hot, arthur looks so fucking fine, i would melt if someone looked up at me like that

b) fucking hell have they twinkified the new scream movie?

c) this scene is literally fresh out of a gay romance where the love interest has to kill the target but they fall in loooooove

d) Theo's rainbow suit just sends me like it ruins all aesthetic scenarios that this could be captions with

e) pls do not discuss this video with me for another 30 minutes im gna watch it n iron my clothes for next week

f) pls discuss this video with me in 30 minutes

[w2soneshots]

I love when they watch football matches together⚽️🫶🏼

[thirteenwrites]

ALL AMERICAN Season 5, Episode 4: Turn Down for What

[vicontheinternet]

You should’ve see my face when I read ‘feminine’. This is why you will never get me to join that fandom. Do they not know that Shonda Rhimes is a BLACK woman who has made it her mission to be the sole reason why loving v Virgina doesn’t get overturned that woman lovers her a swirl. You’re not going to get a same race relationship out of her for main character. Also Micheal is John’s cousin why would he be white.

And let me stick this one here talking shit about this fandom I’ll drop this screenshot here. Let’s not try to remember what twitter thread or tweet this was from it’s two years old. Saying that Simon was a dark skin lead is crazy and they knew that not what op meant by dark skin women

[layla-keating]

ALL AMERICAN Season 5, Episode 6: Can’t Nobody Hold Me Down