#i have too many mixed feelings on daniel that's like an entire essay

[professortennant]

Besides Sam or Jack, which character on SG1 do you enjoy the most?

J A N E T. I love her so much. 

I have a strong affection for General George Hammond (or, as I call him, Papa Hammond). 

I also love Teal’c (and especially, Teal’c and Jack’s friendship). Jacob also really grew on me once he was blended with Selmak and mellowed out (but woof I was ready to kill him after we first met him).

[thealexchen]

One Year On: Life is Strange 2 Critique

December 3rd, 2020 marks a year since Life is Strange 2 ended. I was inspired by @smitethepatriarchy‘s text posts (here, but there are several other answered asks worth reading) and @suhaplays’s text post (here) criticizing Life is Strange 2 to write a critique about how Life is Strange 2 handled certain themes and social issues.

(tw: gun violence, police brutality, animal death, incarceration, racism. In this essay, I use the word “queer” in a reclaimed sense, as a queer person myself. Of course, spoiler warning for all five episodes of Life is Strange 1 and 2).

A year on, my feelings about this game have soured... a lot. When the game was first announced, I was overjoyed that our new protagonists would be two Latino boys. Finally, we would have a culturally meaningful, groundbreaking video game with people of color and their experiences at the forefront! 

Then the game was met with immediate backlash and I utterly exhausted myself defending it for weeks on Reddit and Tumblr. Throughout 2019, as the episodes came out I became increasingly disillusioned, frustrated, and disappointed with where the story was going. I couldn’t figure out why I felt so damn miserable while playing this game.

Then in the summer of 2020, when Tell Me Why began rolling out pre-release material, I noticed that they posted a Q&A about transphobia, gave content warnings, and discussed at length about their collaboration with GLAAD, Checkpoint, and the Huna Heritage Foundation to make the game with sensitivity and proper research. I cannot speak for trans and gender non-conforming people on whether Dontnod succeeded at doing so with Tell Me Why. But Life is Strange 2 did… none of that.

Essentially, I realized that the reason why I was so frustrated with LiS2 is because it focuses way too heavily on a trauma narrative. This comes off as insensitive to players of color without any content warnings or extensive research.

Sean didn’t have to get kidnapped, kicked in the face, and called a racial slur by a gas station owner. Daniel did not need to watch his puppy get mauled by a mountain lion for the sake of a “difficult choice.” Sean didn’t have to lose his eye for the sake of heightened drama. Sean didn’t need to get called a racial slur and humiliated by his native language/beaten in the desert for refusing to sing. Daniel didn’t need to get shot— twice. Hell, all of “Faith” probably could’ve been cut— how is a church cult that brainwashes Daniel and beats Sean half to death relevant at all to the story?

Even if not all of the game’s violence was racially motivated, the consistent trauma that Sean and Daniel endure does not make for positive representation— or even good characterization. There is a difference between sympathetic characters and well-written characters, and trauma does not make Sean and Daniel any more complex or likable-- just more fucking traumatized.

LiS2 is more grounded in reality, but that also makes plot holes that much harder to excuse (Daniel’s powers being spotted, most of the Parting Ways ending, Sean’s prison sentence). But most of all, it grounds all of Sean and Daniel’s pain and trauma in reality. 

There is no magicking away a town-destroying storm with time travel. Sean can’t keep his dad alive by ripping up a Polaroid. After Max unlocked her powers, she was still a Blackwell student, reconnecting with Chloe, taking photos, saving lives, and uncovering a murder mystery. After Daniel unlocked his powers, the Diaz brothers lost everything. 

The game never lets you forget that Sean and Daniel are homeless, wanted, constantly in danger, and that they are never getting their old lives back. It permeates the entire game, and for players of color, just reinforces a sad, miserable, grim reality about living in the United States. It is, as @smitethepatriarchy said, potentially triggering for players of color, and it is certainly not something I needed to be reminded of.

And the representation of POC? It feels shallow and ill-researched. It would only take a Google search to find out that Dia de Muertos (a holiday to honor the dead, no less) was from October 31 to November 2 in 2016, the year the game takes place, but Daniel only talks about Halloween in episode 1. Sean and Daniel never discuss any Mexican customs, foods, or holidays. Sean doesn’t speak Spanish with his immigrant father, only during a scene when he’s traumatized (again!) by two racists, and again when talking to Mexican immigrants— in jail. Daniel doesn’t speak Spanish at all. Most of their allies throughout the game are white, including Finn and Cassidy, who appropriate Black culture with their dreadlocks.

So what’s left? Sean and Daniel’s existence as people of color is, at worst, just a narrative prop to justify everything that happens to them. They are people of color on the surface only. In a meta-sense, the game only considers the color of their skin and their last names as what is narratively important… yikes.

I don’t have anything against people who genuinely loved the game and were moved by its messages and story. But I can’t help but feel bitter that white players have the luxury of only thinking of this game as a work of fiction and not feeling any personal reliability to Sean and Daniel’s racialized trauma.

I don’t regret playing LiS2, but I do regret all the time and energy I spent defending it in the beginning. I understand now that I shouldn’t let people’s opinions get to me, nor should I feel obligated to like or defend a game for its attempts at representation. But now, I think I understand how queer fans must have felt in late 2015 when Polarized released. After following the game for 10 months, to see that Chloe’s ultimate destiny was to die and Pricefield is another ship plagued by the Bury Your Gays trope (in the ending that the devs clearly put more work into) must have been just as disillusioning and infuriating. I understand why some fans were so quick to unfollow LiS or develop mixed feelings about the series, because that’s how I feel too after following LiS2’s development from September 2018 to December 2019.

Before I end, I will admit that Life is Strange 2 arrived at a time when I needed it. I still stand by my belief that DN did a great job characterizing Sean, Daniel, and Chris without toxic masculinity, which is the best thing they could’ve done for a male-focused follow-up to a game about queer women. I love that Sean is still a canonically bisexual man of color in a major video game and that DN didn’t forget their queer audience. I love the world and characters that DN built, but I still prefer AU fanfictions of their normal lives, without all that trauma. 

So, I will continue to treasure Lyla and her 10 minutes of screentime (aka the only shred of Asian American representation I can get from this series). I still reblog LiS2 fanart to support the artists. I still support Dontnod, because as Tell Me Why has shown, they are capable of researching and writing stories with more sensitivity. And let’s be honest-- I’m still gonna be hella excited if Life is Strange 3 is announced.

But so many aspects of Life is Strange 2 were bungled that it came off as a remarkably average and forgettable experience. A year on, I don’t hate Life is Strange 2, but I am writing this to move on from it.

Thank you for reading.

[miggydiaz]

For the salty ask 1, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10, 14, 16, 20, 22, 23 and 26 for cobra kai pretty please

My answers are so long, so I am putting this under the cut @wonderwolfballoon! Also I just noticed your Daniel icon I SWEAR I’M NOT DRAGGING HIM TO BE MEAN!!!

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?* My biggest IDGI ships for CK are probably Elimetri or Kiaz. I’m not here to yuck other people’s yums or anything, but I do think there is something to the idea that Migueli isn’t popular because it’s a ship predicated on mutual respect for one another. Kiaz has the obvious enemies to lovers vibe and I just generally don’t sail those ships. Elimetri has... its problems, IMO, most especially around the idea that Demetri has to like... save Hawk from himself? Idk. I just like romances that I feel are based on love and mutual respect and not ...tropes.

 I am also not a Lawrusso shipper although I have a lot of those on my dash and you all are great! Again, not yucking yums! Daniel just makes me want to head butt him too much to pair him romantically with anyone 😂 I don’t even want his wife with him. He needs to self reflect~ 

4. Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP?* 

I once saw someone ship Amanda and Anoush and I noped out of that so fucking fast I almost tripped over myself. I’m not sure if they’re popular. I just think some people feel the need to get Amanda out of the way to sail their ship and stuck her with Anoush which... no. Just no. Let Amanda be a messy single queen with a martini hobby, thanks! 

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?* 

Not in CK. I’m lucky because I pretty much stick to my little Migueli bubble and I’m okay with that? Lmao lord knows the Squad on my dash is all about the DISCOURSE™️ so idk if I just don’t feel the need to get sucked into the wider ship wars because we have good healthy debates, but so far, so good. 

6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?* 

I never hated it... I just didn’t have many feelings on shipping with this show in general at first. Then I was in the CK tag one day and I saw Migueli fan art. Then I discovered @afurioushawk‘s falconry series and it was all over for me after that! So fandom DID make me love a ship, just not one I hated.

9. Most disliked character(s)? Why? Oh boy. How much time do you have? In some instances, it’s a good thing season 3 happened because otherwise, this would be a multi-page essay on the problems with race and class privilege as it pertains to Sam LaRusso and just some... generally not nice comments about Demetri that I’m conflicted about because I’m not sure if the writers are intentionally trying to write him a specific way and it’s just not translating to me or what. But season 3 revamped both of their images with me a lot. I’m way more flexible in terms of Demetri, but lmao I was the number one Sam LaRusso hater for a minute there (or maybe number 2, I can think of at least 1 other person who was in that boat with me back in like... August/September, but I won’t call them out because I don’t want them to get hate...) However, I have grown a bit in my opinions of Sam, and even though I still think she’s responsible  for a lot of shit she NEVER gets held accountable for, I also think that’s a reflection of the adults around her too, and this includes my otherwise unproblematic queen, Amanda.

But honestly, my most hated character (other than the obvious villain that is Kreese) is Daniel. No matter how handsome Ralph Macchio looks in cable-knits, because Daniel has always been a sanctimonious, shit starting drama king and I say that about KK Daniel too. I’m not saying Daniel was the ~true villain~ or anything, or that Johnny was innocent -- I can only drink so much Red and Yellow Kool-Aid -- but Daniel’s always been annoying to me as a protagonist, and turning him into a smarmy wealthy car salesman who is also a class traitor did not do him any favors in my book. I will say, I also like Daniel more in season 3 than I have in previous season, but since he is the adult, I will be mad at him longer than I will be at the kids, ya feel?

10. Most disliked arc? Why?

 Johnny’s entire season 3 storyline. The sheer level of REGRESSION at every turn drives me bonkers. It’s like watching him go through all of the stumbling blocks of season 1 all over again, but without the “he’s learning! He’s going to make mistakes!” free pass that I was willing to give him the first time around. He regularly jeopardizes Miguel’s recovery and it’s played for laughs. He fucks up on every level with Robby. He spends most of his time running away when things get hard or too real. He drops the ball completely with Hawk, and like, not to put too fine a point on it, but a lot of Hawk’s issues are because Johnny put Hawk on this ‘flip the script and be a badass’ path and then offered him no guidance for how to walk that path and instead left him in the hands of Kreese. And then he has the nerve to go to Hawk and basically be like “I made you what you are!” lmao yeah Johnny, you sure did, that’s why he’s breaking peoples arms, hoss. And then all of the nonsense with Ali and Carmen, like... if you were planning on teasing KK fans with Ali and him getting back together, why write her as married in the first place? Why even tease the idea of Carmen and Johnny until after you were sure what you were going to do with Ali as a character? Instead, they do what they did in season 3 and it makes him look like a colossal jerk. So yeah. Literally every choice they made with Johnny this season, I hated.

14. Unpopular opinion about your fandom? People who hate Tory are not valid, sorry not sorry.

16. If you could change anything in the show, what would you change? I would have kept Miguel entirely out of Tory and Sam’s beef. Or at least not directly inserted him into it like he was with the kiss. I know the writers thought it was necessary to push Tory to the point of inciting a fight at school, but I am just so exhausted over girls being unable to fight about anything but boys. Also I would bring Aisha back.

20. What is the purest ship in the fandom? 

I am probably biased, but I still maintain it’s Migueli. Look, Miguel stood up to Kyler for Eli and Demetri both. Hawk joined CK because he saw what it could do for some skinny nerd who was getting his ass kicked. And he took to CK, really took to it! Even flourished before he started getting mixed messages. And he and Miguel were pretty much inseparable after that. They coordinated their wardrobes ffs. Hawk dubbed him El Serpiente and no one else calls him that — it’s Hawk’s nickname for him. Miguel confides in Hawk only secondary to Johnny, who is like a father to him. The entire Coyote Creek exchange shows they can fight and disagree but... well, to use the cliche, they don’t go to bed angry, you know? They’re square the very next day. Hawk is the first person at Miguel’s side when he gets kicked over the balcony and the LOOK he gives the second floor where Robby is? That boy is out for blood immediately to avenge Miguel. So much of his s3 behavior is fueled by that need for vengeance because MD is wholly responsible for what happened to Miguel. And Miguel is so confused and betrayed by Hawk’s shift in behavior, and yet still holds out hope that Hawk will see through Kreese’s BS and come with him to The Dojo I Refuse to Name. And when Hawk does make that deflection finally, he shows up at MD with Miguel. There’s so much more that I know I’m missing but whether someone ships them or not, that is a tried and true love and respect for one another, a willingness to fight for and defend one another that you don’t often see in TV friendships... or even in most tv relationships. And I just think that’s the best ❤️

22. Popular character you hate?

 Daniel, hands down. I mean... I don’t even necessarily hate Daniel, you know? I just think it’s really, pardon the pun, rich that a guy of immense wealth and privilege can’t get a therapist or turn to his far too patient wife for help with his existential crisis over his high school bully opening up a karate dojo to make some money and help a kid who is getting the crap kicked out of him. I get that Daniel’s narrative is necessary for the rivalry, but it does nothing to make him sympathetic as a character.

23. Unpopular character you love?

 Tory, definitely! Everyone hates her and then there’s me and the Squad over here banging away on our Coors Banquet cans yelling TORY RIGHTS! Seriously she catches so much flack for a teenage girl who is... the sole income provider for her family? At 17? While caring for a sick mom and a little brother? And fending off a creepy landlord? Tory has it so rough and then she meets a cool girl at her dojo who asks her to hang out at some fancy ass country club which is probably the nicest place Tory has ever been in, and then she gets talked down to and accused of being a thief and has another girl lay hands on her, only to find out that same girl is her new boyfriend’s ex and... ugh. I HATE that Tory gets shit all over when Tory and Sam wouldn’t even have beef if Sam had apologized to Tory as she SHOULD have. Tory isn’t innocent, but damn, I’d be pressed too.

 My other unpopular character I love? Nathaniel. Seriously that kid is THE best. He’s a literal child but is out there like I WILL FUCK YOU UP, even though he’s MD. Honestly, his Cobra Kai energy is so ferocious I won’t be surprised if he moves back to CK eventually. Anyway, I love him.


26. Most shippable character?

 Miguel, hands down. It’s because he’s so affable and sweet overall. And because his hair is so fluffy and pettable that no one can resist touching it. I like to imagine that one day he and Hawk are talking about their hair and Hawk makes a joke about how Miguel’s mane is getting so long that it’s going to be bigger than his own, and then he reaches out to ruffle it and internally has a bisexual meltdown because oh no IT’S SO SOFT AND NICE. But uh... anyway, yes. Definitely Miguel.

[petruchio]

i LOVE ur hunger games opinions - it's my favorite series I always go back to!! I was wondering if you had any other book recommendations

omg!!! angel!!

in terms of young adult recs, i don’t read a huge amount of new ya so these are probably pretty basic, but the ones i would recommend are:

gregor the overlander!!! suzanne collins’ other series, its a little more ~classic ya~ than ya dystopia of the hunger games but still just. so well written bc its the queen suzanne

the entire anne of green gables series <3 literally gilbert and peeta are the two ya love interests that i have been obsessed with my entire life and the books are actually SO good!! there’s a lot i could say about them too like the messages and themes are really quite intelligent and they get written off as just “children’s lit” but they’re truly SO good, even the later ones in the series!!

i’ll recommend six of crows and, i suppose, the original grisha trilogy if you feel like tearing your hair out. ive written a bit about my mixed feelings for that series on my blog but like. the world building is GREAT but the original trilogy just has a few moments that are so deeply frustrating. but its good

howl’s moving castle the book!!!! so iconic, so different from the movie but just also SO good... dianna wynne jones my beloved

this summer id like to reread the golden compass if i have time! i havent read the books since i was a literal child and i remember nothing about them except that they were good but i want to reread it so i can watch the show hehe

i also read last summer a book called why we broke up by daniel handler and i thought it was beautiful and really poignant. it also has amazing illustrations and the story i thought was really well done

i also loved the ingo series as a kid!!!! yes its like. mermaids but also its really well written lol

a few books that aren’t ya:

homegoing by yaa gyasi

there, there by tommy orange

it is my personal (and insanely pretentious) belief that everyone should read les miserables but. thats just because im insane. but i do genuinely love that book 

also the entire jane austen catalogue with special attention to emma <3

normal people because like. yeah (that might be ya actually not sure how to categorize it but. amazing book)

recently i read the plague of doves by louise erdrich and really loved it!! im hoping to read more of her work but she’s an amazing author

i’m also a big fan of modern retellings of stories, last year i read a retelling of pride and prejudice called eligible by curtis sittenfeld that i very much enjoyed

outside of that i also love to read really shitty romance fiction and hyper specific historical non-fiction because i read so many impossible and insanely difficult books for my degree and i just can’t recommend any of those in good faith haha... once i graduate ill honestly probably have better book recs because right now i read so many books i DONT enjoy and write 15 pages essays on why i think they suck... but those are just a few of my favorites!!!!! 

[aion-rsa]

Netflix’s Ginny & Georgia: An Excellent Show Undermined by its Race Problems

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Marketed as an updated and darker version of Gilmore Girls, the idea of this new mother-daughter duo show, Ginny & Georgia, is instantly appealing. Netflix’s new top 10 show is about 15-year-old Ginny Miller, played by Antonia Gentry, who often feels more mature than her 30-year-old mother, Georgia (Brianne Howey). When the family moves from Texas to a new town called Wellsbury in Massachusetts, Ginny isn’t too keen until she meets her super cute neighbor, Marcus, and his twin sister Maxine. But life is not so simple, and as secrets come to light, things get more complicated.

After finishing the show in 24 hours, I wish I could sit here and write about how compelling it is and how well it portrays that point in teenage life where you’re impulsive, awkward, and nervous as you try to figure out relationships and find yourself. However, while the town of Wellsbury is picture-perfect, Ginny & Georgia is not as it is undermined by a significant race problem, primarily how it deals with its biracial lead.

The show’s failure to deal with its lead character Ginny’s biracial identity makes it hard for me to love all the other great aspects of the show, as much as I want to. Ginny & Georgia’s exploration of coming of age, self-harm, LGBTQ+ relationships, sexual abuse, and being an American Sign Language family is compelling and something I wish was more present on television. Even criminal mastermind Georgia Miller, whose life is full of secrets, murder, and lord knows whatever else, is undermined by the shows tendency to only acknowledge Ginny’s Blackness when dealing with racism. Her race isn’t considered in any other regard, which suggests being Black is nothing more than microaggressions and discrimination, and that racism makes up the entirety of the Black identity. 

“If you had an ass, you’d be perfect”

Ginny’s experience of racism, mostly in the form of microaggressions, is plain for the eye to see, particularly in the comments made by Ginny’s new friends. When her friend Samantha (Romi Shraiter) asks her, “What are you?” and then plays it off as a compliment because Ginny is so “exotic looking,” Ginny’s response is silence. An equal response is given when the same friend fetishizes mixed-race babies by saying, “I’m going to marry a Black man so I can have adorable little mixed babies.” Beyond the fact that this comment is weird, and that the show is in many ways portraying a main character who is struggling with their biracial identity, the show normalizes racist comments by not having Ginny call out her friend. 

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Celebrating Black Voices in Anime with Funimation

By Daniel Kurland

It’s the same situation when Ginny straightens her hair, and Brodie, one of those characters who thinks they’re the funniest person alive but actually just fulfils that stereotypical teen drama douchebag role says, “If you had an ass, you’d be perfect. It’s weird that you don’t.” The use of comments like these in the show aid stereotypes and fetishizations of Black women as objects of desire and the idea that Black women, like me, who don’t have large bums are somehow less Black.

The show attempts to deal with this issue by having Ginny discuss it with her boyfriend Hunter (Mason Temple). Though it is a lovely scene because they start to discuss their experiences of being biracial, it does not address the fact Brodie has just used a racist insult, which is a common occurrence among Ginny’s friends. 

Both of these sequences undermine Ginny’s character, who, when we first meet her, is outspoken and strong as she calls out her English teacher for constructing a syllabus containing mostly white men. The show weakens its lead character when it portrays Ginny as someone who can’t have hard conversations with her friends. 

“Too unconventional”

A particularly striking aspect of the show is Ginny’s interactions with her AP English teacher, Mr. Gitten (Jonathan Potts). Her interactions with him are reflective of a situation most Black people have either experienced or heard about during their education, and yet the way the show handles it is somewhat messy. In Gitten’s first encounter with Ginny, he assumes she is not as well-read as the rest of her (predominantly white) classmates. This is continued when he states Ginny lost the writing competition because her essay was “too unconventional” when he really means it was too Black for him. Never directly discussing the issue Mr. Gitten has with her until the last episode, the moment is the closest Ginny comes throughout the whole show to dealing with the racism she receives, and yet it is one of the most unrealistic portrayals I have witnessed on television. 

Instead of trying to get the teacher punished, Ginny’s approach to dealing with the racism she receives is to blackmail him, saying she’d out him as a racist if he doesn’t give her a glowing college recommendation letter. I can only speak on my experiences as a Black woman who’s faced similar situations, but Ginny’s approach is naïve and an impractical reflection of what racism in school is like for minority ethnicities. The solution to racism is not blackmail. By Ginny choosing to blackmail him instead of telling the school so he can get fired or just have another teacher to write the recommendation letter, it makes her less honorable. 

Also, many of the comments Gitten makes are in front of the class and something he’s been doing for years as Bracia tells Ginny she’s had similar experiences with him. So surely he really wouldn’t have felt that threatened? All in all, Ginny’s approach to dealing with Mr. Gitten’s treatment is shocking and unhelpful as it suggests this is a useful way racism is dealt with. 

“Your bars could use a little work, homie”

The show’s failure to fittingly deal with its biracial lead’s struggles weakens the rest of the show, as it opens the door to messy scenes such as the heavily criticized “Oppression Olympics” scene where Ginny and Hunter throw stereotypes at each other, while Hunter fails to see how Gittens’ treatment of Ginny is racist. While the scene can be criticized for many things, it does well to highlight how all people of color can experience racism, but their experiences are not the same. While Hunter’s experiences are 100% valid, they are not comparable to what Ginny is going through in relation to their English teacher. Hunter’s accusations that Ginny is “causing drama in class” is him painting her in the stereotypical angry Black woman image because she’s calling out discrimination and using her voice. 

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TV

Firefly Lane and the Problem with Aging up and Down

By Rosie Fletcher

The dialogue the argument uses is embarrassing, to say the least, with Ginny saying to Hunter, “Your favourite food is cheeseburgers, and I know more Mandarin than you do, you’re barely even Asian,” while Hunter says, “But I’ve never seen you pound back jerk chicken. The last time I checked, Brodie twerks better than you. And I liked your poem, but your bars could use a little more work, homie. So really, how black are you then?” The entire argument, which consists of stereotypes to prove who’s whiter, is extremely chaotic as it perpetuates this idea that you’re somehow less Black if you don’t know how to twerk or “pound back jerk chicken” whatever that means. And beyond the awful dialogue, the worst bit about it is the situation, which happens in episode 8, is never resolved. It is as if the writers of the show were saying racial identity is something two biracial characters “should” be struggling with, and instead of showing how they do, we’ll just throw this scene in and have them throw derogatory stereotypes at each other. The writing in the scene undermines what could have been a powerful moment which explored both Ginny’s struggle with her identity and the racism she’s experienced since she arrived in Wellsbury. Instead, we’re left with a frustrating scene that only reinforces the show’s inability to deal with a biracial lead character.

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While Ginny & Georgia is a delightfully chaotic show that for the majority of it will have you hooked and on the edge of your seat, its inability to deal with the lead character’s identity seriously undermines it. By not dealing with the microaggressions and discrimination Ginny receives, the show normalizes racism. If there is a season two, I hope the show gets a better handle on Ginny’s identity and what it means to be biracial. 

Ginny & Georgia is available to stream on Netflix now.

The post Netflix’s Ginny & Georgia: An Excellent Show Undermined by its Race Problems appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[undecidedpersonality]

Writer’s Month 2020 Day Seventeen: Cooking

Title: “The Melting Brain”

By: Nalijah Daniels

Word Count: 1132

Genre: Creative Nonfiction

I can’t cook. Some people that know me may argue that I wouldn’t know if I’m good at cooking because I’ve barely tried but I can feel it in my bones that I can’t cook. I’ve been more worried about this fact recently because the time is coming closer and closer that I will actually have to be responsible for feeding myself. No parents to make dinner for me. No dining halls to spend university meal plans on. Plus, it’s not acceptable to order food for every meal of the day. Or microwave every meal, at that. It’ll just be me and the kitchen in the apartment that I rent that expects me to use it’s stove and oven regularly. That’s very scary because I can’t cook.

                                                         ––

I can’t do many things at once before I get super stressed. It gets worse when there's a time demand on any of the things being done. When I was a senior in high school, I was applying for colleges––which meant writing essays, applying for FAFSA, trying to find and apply for scholarships, and figuring out where the heck I actually wanted to go––while also doing homework for time demanding classes, trying to work more than eight hours a week, applying for a new job because I hated the one I was at, trying to maintain friendships and have fun, participating in school events, and taking care of my own health meantally and physically. All at one time. I ended up breaking down in front of my mom’s desk in the front office, half sobbing because I couldn’t take it anymore.

Would College Board and universities make applying to college this stressful if they knew or remembered what it was actually like? The ‘experts’ say you have to do everything to be your best self as well as be a well-rounded student to get into most schools but never tell you exactly how to manage your time to do it all without melting your brain. Crying in the office was my brain finally melting. I knew for sure that it was melting too because I know my body, I don’t react to stress by crying. I power through until the end or put all of my focus into one thing until I feel the weight slowly lift off my shoulders. Then I’m able to come back to everything else with a refreshed mind. The weight crushed me instead.

                                                       ––

I’ve thought up plans on how I can prevent having to cook for myself. One, is to live with roommates who enjoy cooking while in my last years of college and the however-many year after college until I move in with a significant other. I can’t live by myself unless I hire a personal chef, and I don’t think I’ll have enough money for that. Emphasis on ‘enjoy’ in that statement though, because if they don’t feel that cooking is a hobby, they’ll eventually get peeved about having to feed someone their age everyday.

My second plan, which is really just part two to the plan above, is to marry a man who loves to cook. Emphasis on ‘loves’ in this statement because he will be cooking for me everyday for a lot longer than my college and post-college roommates will be. Eventually, he’ll also be cooking for our kids too so he can’t get tired of it often.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to be super selfish and expect them to only do things for me. In return, I’ll be buying the groceries (that we share) every week and doing the dishes after dinner is over. I’ll even throw in doing more chores than everyone else around the house if they need more convincing. I’m that desperate to not have to cook.

                                                       ––

I’m a Virgo. It’s the excuse I use for a lot of the ways that I act, especially if it annoys someone. One of the most common traits of a Virgo, is perfectionism. For most, that means the result or outcome of something has to be 100 percent perfect. For me, perfectionism comes in the form of consistency. The easiest way to stay consistent is with rules. Rules keep standards up and expectations clear. Very few things can go wrong if you just do certain things over and over again. You won’t lose your favorite shirt in your closet if you put your clothes in the closet the same way every time. I’m not saying rule breaking doesn’t benefit you sometimes, but you can’t complain about why something went wrong when you literally didn’t do what you were supposed to.

                                                       ––

Cooking involves doing many things at once, especially if you’re cooking a full meal. Not only do you have to worry about two pots and a pan at one time, you should also consider cleaning up a bit when you have time so the place isn’t disgusting when you’re done. Apparently, once you become an expert cook you’ll know exactly when you should start the rice and corn compared to your chicken’s cook time. Don’t ask them what time frame this is, they won’t have a precise answer for you. Once you are at this expert cook level, you’ll even feel comfortable enough to turn away from the stove completely to put your butter, salt, and pepper away and possibly even wash a mixing bowl you won’t need anymore. Then, you’ll get right back to cooking with the perfect amount of time left before needing to stir your rice so that it doesn’t stick to the pot and burn.

For now, you’ll just freak out and panic because you don’t know which cookware to focus on. If you choose this one, your meat will be charred on the bottom but if you choose that one, the water will disappear from your corn and a fire will start. So when your mom asks you to help her make a meal as a way to help you start cooking, you’ll try really hard. You’ll attempt to not ask for too much help because you want to really do even though you know the recipe is too difficult. Then, only thirty-five percent through the cooking process, you’ll give up because it feels like your brain is melting on the stove in front you, and you can’t go any longer.

By you I mean me.

                                                       ––

Maybe cooking is a metaphor for life. Many things happen at once and you need to focus on them all unless things start to fall apart, crash and burn. One falls off-kilter and your entire world seems to fall out of place. Then you have to start over while everything else is still moving on. Refill the pot with water and set it on the stove to boil.

[track-walk]

tell us ur tea on alex and max

I’m not sure it’s tea :D but here you go.

Alex is a Bull: a 936 word Sunday morning essay by me.

I have Master’s degree in Marketing so I enjoy watching how teams and drivers present themselves to public, what brand they create. (Un)fortunately, that’s one of the reasons why I love Red Bull Racing even when I know their flaws – it is a perfect brand for a nerd who loves to analyse branding, communication, public relations, media, image, target groups, marketing, etc.

I already like Max&Alex for RBR more than Max&Dan (so maybe there is some tea after all…). Especially, their interviews (or other activities where they talk / answer questions / take quizzes). I like Max&Dan but I think that (1) RBD overdid with making them do some fun but time-consuming stuff for every race, (2) Max&Dan overdid some things themselves, maybe trying to show off??, not entirely in a bad way, it just happens that when you like a person, you want to impress them, you try a bit harder, push a bit more, joke a bit firmer, laugh a bit exaggeratedly, (3) fans romanticising their relationship also didn’t help. I really like how Max&Dan still interact honestly with each other, but I think that last year it was heading to a point of being a bit too much for my liking.

I was happy that Dan left RBR for many reasons. I though he needed some changes and I still stand with it even seeing current results of Renault. At the same time, to me Daniel Ricciardo and Red Bull looks like a perfect combination. Daring, laughing, not taking things too seriously, doing everything, not saying no, not shutting your mouth, making stupid jokes: that suits the brand of Red Bull – not only Red Bull Racing – perfectly. After all, we’re not supposed to mix Red Bull with vodka and we still do. Same with Dan, always a bit more of what’s needed from him just to have more fun (and I’m thankful for that, we need exclusive personalities in the sport).

Heading into 2019’s season, I’ve never felt that Pierre suits Red Bull brand. From my point of view, in order to be part of RBR, you have to be interesting on and off track. Daring moves, sometimes being on a verge of being dangerous, late braking, emotions, not apologising, stupid jokes – whatever suits you. I don’t want to say that Pierre is not interesting, but just not in a Red Bull – energy drink, extreme sports – way.

Coming back to Alex (yay, I’m trying to come back to my initial thought), I was thinking the same about Alex because of him being one of the “good boys”. But now I can tell that, surprisingly, he suits RBR way better than I’ve expected. To be honest, I changed my mind after RBR Canada’s “Formula 1 Lumberjacks“ video [x]. Apparently, four seconds was all I needed: Max & Pierre does a video for RBR, Alex throws a fake ax at them, gets attention from RBR viewers while still being a STR driver. To me, that short moment was like opening my eyes: he is a Bull. I feel it’s something that Dan would do. But Alex does it subconsciously, while being a bit shy, enjoying the opportunities he gets and smiling all around.

And maybe for this reason him and Max works perfectly? I think they have a natural flow. They joke around, they are not afraid to laugh at themselves, at each other and at other teams and drivers (“You’re not gonna go vegan?” “Not yet” [x]). At the same time, they also seem to be honest (“I really don’t care. How about that?” [x]). Sometimes they talk a bit shit, but keep it nice and don’t overdo it. I think someone on Tumblr wrote that they talk like brothers, and I agree. I also saw comment that it’s maybe because of English being Alex’ first language so it’s easier for him than Pierre – I can see that being true, too: god, I needed almost a year of meeting my colleague everyday until I started to joke with him, only because I’m not that comfortable with English.

I am very happy for both of them – Max steped up to be experienced teammate and Alex is not afraid to try, to do mistakes, to learn, but at the same time to simply be himself.

And I think that RBR sees it, too.

I know some people complained how RBR just lets Alex do mistakes and aren’t that harsh on him (“An unfortunate end to Alex’s first day on track in Mexico City. He’s ok and the crew will turn the car around for FP3” [x] after his 3rd or so crash). I’m sure it’s because (1) he’s a rookie, (2) he comes back during the races, (3) he workshard; and now somehow I believe that RBR also sees one more reason – (4) Alex can naturally work the cameras, attract people and he matches with Max.

Now, I just hope that RBR confirms Alex for next season for various reasons. But I surprise even myself that some of those reasons are (1) him complimenting Max better than any otherdriver, (2) Alex is already a Bull.

I understand that Red Bull is so much more than an energy drink. But the name is the same so the image also should be the same, more or less. What’s a can of Red Bull? Sugar and caffeine. While Max is definitely caffeine of F1, Alex can be our sugar.

[arthur-morgan-slap-my-ass]

Extra Credit

Anonymous said: actually oh my god could you please write dutch taking a young woman (like early twenties ish) under his wing and being her mentor and obviously it turns hella smutty and he’s super daddy and in control ✊🏻✊🏻👌🏼👌🏼😩😩

Anonymous said: Hello, love your blog. Just wondering, are you by any chance going to write more professor Dutch stuff? The one you wrote a while back was 😚👌

AN: Ask and you shall receive, amirite. This took longer than I expected, mostly because I got sidetracked by my midterms and I’ve had some personal issues alongside while writing so I’m not entirely satisfied with how it turned out - but I hope you like it! There lots of love put into it!!!! As always, thanks to wondeful @winters-uprise for being my beta! Also, happy easter.

Word Count: 4800+

Summary: Questionable decisions, perfect marks, crumpled essays, daddy Dutch not knowing how to handle teasing, sweet and indecent comments, awkward conversations and strange proposals.

Part: 1 | 2

Consider supporting the writer and donating to my Ko-Fi!

When you were offered the student aid position, this wasn’t exactly what you had in mind — not really, no. You were glad, of course — a student aid position was going to send your GPA over the clouds —, but you didn’t expect to be assigned as Mr. Van der Linde’s aid, and even more surprising of you to accept it. When you knocked on the office door, still as dark and riddled with books as you could remember it, he didn’t seem surprised or startled when you slipped in carrying the essays of your fellow classmates.

He didn’t seem particularly surprised neither, when you put the papers on his desk with a sheepish smile, asking in a mellow voice, “will you be needing anything else, sir?”

“My dear,” he started, leaning back on his chair, the perfect vision of temptation — suit jacket discarded, dark-navy waistcoat hugging his lean frame tightly and white shirt rolled up to the elbows. “I’d like to ask you a very serious question.”

The smile on your face cooled, nearly disappearing, and you had to shift from one foot to the other. “Sir?”

Dutch cocked his head to the side, idly play with the gold rings on his thick fingers. “I have a theory,” he smirked now, the corners of his eyes crinkling, “and I’d like to test it out.”

“Oh?,” you prompted him on, fidgeting on the sleeve of your worn out wool cardigan.

“The outcome,” Dutch groaned, scratching his chin, a very self-pleased aura about himself, “will depend entirely on you; or might I say how you’re going to do, shall you decide to accept it, my dear.”

You gnawed on your lower lip, skin prickling slightly in anticipation. “Sir?”

“I will write you a commendation letter, my girl,” he spoke offhandedly, smirking when your eyes widened a little. “That shall be enough for your honorable mention, if that’s really what you want.”

“My commendation letter?,” your eyes widened then, urging him on, too curious for your own good.

Dutch now smirked, clearly amused at your expense, “but bear in mind, sweetheart,” he held his gaze at you, examining your smaller frame from head to toes, “I do not do favors for my students.” This sent your mind to a screeching halt, tumbling and crashing to the walls of your better judgment. He simply cocked his head to the side, now looking at your face. “I prefer to say… we’re here to help each other.”

You frowned slightly, somewhat flustered and sensing the oncoming blow to the conversation — one that you were sure would rattle you to the bones —, and so you stayed quiet.

The man looked at the papers on top of his desk, hand coming up to rub his thumb on his bottom lip. “You just picked those up?”

“I—,” you stuttered, following his gaze, “yes, um… I did, these are the essays from last week, although I think some in the class didn’t hand it in time—“

He touched the pile of papers, apparently counting the number of students under his tutoring that had followed through with the activity. “It’s enough.”

Again, you frowned. “Enough?”

“How badly do you want to graduate, Y/N?,” Dutch asked at last, turning his dark and brooding gaze to you, an eyebrow cocking up at your clear absence of response. “It’ll be a year from now, I reckon?”

“Ah— yes, it…,” you staggered slightly, “that’s… right.”

He hummed then, nodding as if satisfied with your response. “You have a thesis advisor yet?”

“What’s the point of this, professor Daniel?,” you snapped, the rebellious streak surfacing in your voice as you challenged him. You weren’t just a pretty instrument to be played by him.

“I have a proposition for you,” he continued, not paying mind to your little outburst — and looking very unimpressed, in fact. “I’ll advise your thesis, since I know you haven't found an advisor yet — and I do believe your project is interesting.”

Dumbfounded, you blinked. What were you supposed to say to him now?

“Sir, I’m very thankful—“

“Don’t thank me yet,” Dutch waved his hand at you, dismissing your gratefulness. “As I said before, this isn’t a favor. I’m going to give you something that you want and you, my beautiful girl, are going to give me something that I want.”

You swallowed nervously, the slow beating of the antique clock way too loud in the room. It felt too unreal, and yet cliché — something to be expected, really, but it was hard to believe that it was happening to you. “And… what… what is it that you want?”

Dutch seemed very pleased at your question, resting his head back at the cushioned chair with a light smirk. He looked at you with half-lidded eyes, taking in your whole figure deliberately as if summoning the words he wanted to say before actually verbalizing them. “Many things, but for now, I think I’d like to have a smoke.”

Changing your weight from one foot to another, you fidgeted with the sleeve of your cardigan once more. “A… smoke?”

“Get my cigarettes for me,” Dutch huffed, somewhat amused at your confusion; pointedly looking downwards to his front pocket. “And don’t make me repeat myself.”

Gawking at him, you then snapped and gasped indignantly. “I’m not—“

“You will,” he spoke firmly, watching you darkly, like a wolf ready to pounce. “You will, won’t you?,” his head cocked to the side, “you want to please me. This is your chance.”

You pressed your lips together, fingers flexing restlessly as you weighed your actual options. Should you? Where was this leading to? How long had he been planning this? Is this why you were offered the position as an aid? This couldn’t possibly be ethical—

“Don’t think too hard,” Dutch said finally, looking somewhat caring, but also impatiently waiting for you to move. “Just do as I say.”

Taking the first step forward felt way harder than it should’ve been, and you did it meekly — not daring to look him in the eyes for longer than a couple seconds. He smiled, pleased as you got to his side with a furious blush creeping up your cheeks, and you hesitated for a second; leaning into him for your hand to slip into the left pocket of his chalk-stripe navy dress pants.

Dutch watched you with half-lidded eyes, dark and predatory as only he could be, and the glint there wasn’t missed when your hand brushed the inside of his thigh; doing your best not to touch the obvious bulge of his cock through the linen of his fancy three-piece suit. Your pinkish blush turned into a crimson one when you took hold of the cigarette pack and the man spread his thighs with a quiet sigh at your feather light touch.

“Thank you, my girl,” he spoke easily, taking the carton box from your hands without much of a fuss, the cigarette making its way to his lips in a well known motion — and you stood there, too anxious to move; but also incredibly… hot.

He looked at you then, lightening the cigarette and taking a deep drag. The smirk spread further and you felt small and somewhat silly standing there, behind his dark mahogany desk and next to him. It still felt surreal. “I’m going to correct the essays now.”

Sensing it in the air, you asked somewhat hesitantly, “would you want me to leave?”

Dutch scoffed, taking another drag before answering. “You’re staying,” he moved the papers to his line of eyesight, skimming over them before fixing you with an expectant stare. “Sit, girl,” he patted his thigh.

You stared blankly at him, unbelieving. “… Dut—“

“Come, now,” he flipped the page of the first paper, reading over it, “you do know I don’t enjoy saying the same thing twice,” the red pen scribbled something over the paper, his cigarette burning lazily at the corner of his mouth and he blew a small cloud of smoke. “Don’t you want to do me proud, mhm?,” he flicked the cigarette on the crystal ashtray, fixing you with an expectant stare. “Do as daddy says, sweetheart.”

With your lower lip trembling, you felt your will melt away. Dutch put out the cigarette, stretching a hand out towards you — which you took, shy; but willing. He smiled, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, touch warm and calloused on your skin. You slid into his lap, legs on each side of his thigh as Dutch adjusted you weight on top of him; his hand pulling your waist against him. “Now, there is a good girl, don’t you think?,” he purred into your ear, the minty smell of his aftershave mixing with the smoky tobacco. “Aren’t you?”

“I…,” you whispered, feeling very small and exposed there on his lap. What if someone came in and saw you like this? But Dutch pressed his face to the side of your neck, nose brushing the skin and raising goosebumps in its wake. You blushed, trying hard not to squeal at the prickling of his stubble. “… ah, yes.”

“That’s it,” you felt the smile in his voice, his hand caressing up your thigh and riding your black pleated skirt up, nonchalant and confident. You fought the will to push his hand away, not because you felt uncomfortable but because it was embarrassing — and very lewd in a certain way. “Cute little thing, you are.”

You let out a low keening sound, sighing as he leaned forwards to pay attention on the papers; your eyes barely registering the words he wrote on them and the scribbling in red ink; grades being assigned that easily and effortlessly. That made you squirm on his lap, your own hand coming down to rest on his knee between your legs. “Dutch…”

He didn’t reply, ignoring you instead; turning the page with a single and well-practiced move. You frowned, pressing your lips together as the pen came down to scribble more on the paper; and his other hand brushed up your thigh once more, sliding under the soft fabric of your skirt and the soft skin between your legs. “Dutch—“

“Try again, sweetheart,” the man whispered back at you, picking up another essay, “you’re smarter.” His hand squeezed the flesh of your thigh, fingers digging into it as he pulled you more fully against his crotch. “I know you are.”

You breathed in sharply then, both hands flying to grasp at his forearm and wrist between your legs. “D— daddy…?”

“Smart girl,” Dutch praised, now brushing his thumb at the front of your panties and making you squirm, unconsciously pushing back at his lap. You leaned forwards, head low and eyes closed with a deep frown at the new sensation, at him toying and complimenting you — and it was a surprise, really, how easily he had managed to push you around. “You’re not just a pretty little thing,” he quipped at you, voice low and sultry. “You’re smart and want to be praised, isn’t it? Is that why you keep making little mistakes, taking up too much work, baby?”

Dutch cooed at your answering whimper, brushing his fingers over your sex and cotton panties frustratingly on the way. “Do you want me to notice you?,” the man asked, lips touching the back of your neck. “Want daddy to give you some attention?”

You pushed back on his hand, not entirely sure if you should focus on it or the leg between yours; his half hard cock straining at your constant rocking. “Daddy, I—“

His hand grasped at your waist, hugging you to his chest as to keep you from moving too much; and you let out a low, frustrated drawl at it. “You squirm too much,” Dutch hummed, hints of amusement in his voice. “Makes me think you’re almost enjoying this, no?”

“Maybe,” you answered, voice low and tiny compared to his, and when you opened your eyes you saw another two essays graded on your right. “It feels good— daddy...”

“It does, doesn’t it?,” Dutch kissed your neck again, hand around you moving and fingers now rubbing a slow teasing circle over your pussy — and you weren’t ashamed to admit it, you were wet. “You like it, sweetheart?”

You leaned back on his chest now, turning your face to bury it into his neck and you could feel the way he had tensed up; the hand that had been correcting the papers stilling for the moment — but you couldn’t care. You moaned, canting your hips upwards towards his touch with a burning need.

“Stop,” Dutch spoke in a warning tone, pulling his hand away from between your legs to rest it on your waist as to still your body, and you whined; pushing back on him in a deliberate move. You could feel the firmness of his cock, outlined by the expensive dress pants, pushing against the side of your hip insistently as you tried to chase the sensation. “I said,” he hissed then, letting go of his pen and wrapping his long fingers around your neck, “stop, girl.”

Whimpering, you tried to squirm to no avail upon his lap; hands grasping on the fabric of his trousers and squeezing tightly. “No, I— just… I want—“

“And now we want things, do we?,” Dutch condescended on you, caressing your exposed neck and collarbone. “My, you’re feisty aren’t you?”

You frowned, trying to move and hump on him again, but his hold on you only tightened. “Daddy—“

“How do we say when we want something, sweetheart?,” he hissed into your ear and you could feel your body melt at the term of endearment that slipped from his lips as sweetly as threateningly. “Won’t you show me your manners?”

With a shaky gasp, you stilled and tried to debate if this was what you really should do, coming to the self-assured recognition that even if you didn’t want to do this, you’d be lying. Did you want to? Yes. But should you? The answer didn’t matter.

“Oh, please daddy,” you mewled, lips trembling and eyes watering with want, “I need more—“

“Do you, now?,” he mused, more to himself, and you felt the rough brush of his chin against the sensitive back of your neck, goosebumps raising through your body, “what is it that you so desperately need, then?”

“… you, daddy,” you answered promptly, closing your eyes in frustration and embarrassment, dreading the words about to leave your mouth, “inside me.”

Dutch breathed in sharply, the only visible sign that he was as affected by this as you, and the grasp around you slackened. “Stand.”

You turned around to look at him, confused. Had you gone too far? Misread what he had wanted from you? What if—

“I said stand, girl,” he punctuated it by squeezing the flesh of your thigh firmly, voice dark and threatening, “now.”

Scrambling off of his lap, you got on your feet with wobbly knees and your skirt riding up your waist and rumpling the nice white blouse you had picked for the day. The dark-red woolen cardigan dangled precariously from one of your shoulders and when you turned around to look at the man, meek and anxious, he all but smiled.

“Off with it,” Dutch pointed at your cardigan as he moved to unbutton his vest, briskly shaking it off — and God, something about seeing him wearing a crisp white dress shirt with rolled up sleeves was—, “and don’t make me say it twice.”

Jumping into action, you slipped off the soft coat and allowed it to pool around your feet on the floor, shuffling off your slippers at the same time. Dutch hummed appreciatively, coaxing you forwards and closer to him.

“You’re just so pretty, aren’t you?,” he whispered, hand warm and calloused as it slipped between your thighs and squeezed the softness of your skin, “blooming with it, just begging to be plucked.”

You closed your eyes, allowing him to wander with his caressing and moaning softly. “Daddy…”

Dutch hummed in reply, fingers inching upwards and hooking on the underside of your panties — and you were ashamed to admit at how wet they already were just from the light touching and the teasing he’s given you so far. “Look at you, sweetheart,” he whispered, smiling at your full-body shiver, “all wet for me.”

His fingertips pressed to the tender flesh of your thighs once more before he decided to move upwards, hooking them into your soft-cotton blue panties and dragging it down in a long and deliberate moment, one that almost felt… intimate. You reached out, to hold onto his shoulders to keep your balance as you stepped out of them and he pressed a light kiss to your forearm, pulling the piece of clothing from you — and you weren’t entirely sure where it went to, but it didn’t matter now.

“Be good now,” he whispered to you, calloused hands pushing your just above the knee skirt further up, rumpling the white shirt you had carefully chosen for today, “behave and you’ll have fun, my dear.”

You bit your lower lip, feeling the soft caress of the hem of the skirt caressing your backside. It was hard to keep quiet like that, even more so when Dutch leaned back, smiling at you; as if admiring his handiwork. He cocked his head to the side, hand coming up to scratch at his chin as if in thought; the warm glint of his ringers impossible to miss.

“Off with the shirt,” he demanded, dark and imposing, “I want to see you.”

No hesitation this time — mostly because you were looking forward the “fun” that he had promised —, you unbuttoned the shirt, the unmatching bra — a lacy baby pink with white peeking from below the fabric when you were ready to shrug it off; and you did, the fabric pooling on top of your cardigan and slippers discarded earlier. When you moved to undo your bra, Dutch stopped you with a wave of his hand.

“Keep it for now, sweetheart. You look precious like that,” he drawled, clearly proud at how readily you had complied to his request. The man eyed the remaining essays on top of his desk, looking back at you with unhurried ease, hands coming down to undo the buckle of his belt in a deliberate and uncaring motion. “Do you want to sit on daddy’s lap now?”

You blushed further, trying not to look down at his lap where he obviously had freed himself, hands slowly pumping his cock to a full erection. With a meek voice, you cast your eyes to the side, whispering, “yes, daddy.”

“Come here, baby,” Dutch called in a hushed tone, urging you further to his lap as to sit there facing him this time. His hand cradled your hip, curling there and squeezing softly as the other disappeared down below, a finger dipping into your pussy to check for wetness before taking a hold of himself, “you’ll be a good girl for daddy, won’t you?”

Squirming, your let out a broken whimper and clutched to his shoulders with a furrow on your brow, “yes…”

“You’ll sit here,” he spoke, voice demanding attention, as if in one of his classes, “and daddy will finish correcting the papers.” At this, you pouted, the protest blooming in your chest dying out as soon as Dutch cupped your cheek, “yes, yes, hush now,” he smiled, drawing his thumb down as to press it in your mouth and you instinctively ran your tongue over the pad, sucking on it. “And once daddy’s done, he’s going to fuck you silly, do you understand?”

With a begrudging nod, you agreed to his words — because what else could you do? No wasn’t something you wanted to say, not now anyways. “Okay, daddy.”

Dutch huffed a breath, cocking his head to the side with an expectant smirk, “what else?”

Your eyes widened, the flush spreading further down your exposed neck and ears — and when you tried to look away from him, his fingers pulled your face back to his, his eyes focused on you.

“I’m… thank… thank you, daddy.”

The smile widened then, Dutch apparently satisfied at your display of submission, and the hand on your hip pulled you down and towards his chest — your head resting against the crook of his neck as you sunk onto his cock; slowly, steadily, inch by inch, making you gasp and shiver, clinging onto his shirt at the intrusive sensation. It stung a bit, not enough to make it unpleasant, but more than enough to remind of how full you were at the moment.

Dutch ran his big hand over your back, soothing and gentle like you didn’t imagine he’d be capable of — and that made you shiver, moaning quietly and clinging harder to him, your knees sinking into the warm leathery seat of his desk chair. He shushed you quietly, pressing a kiss to your temple as he rummaged through the papers; the moving of his thighs under yours enough to make you want to cry out and rock down on him.

When you were offered the position as student aid, that wasn’t what you had in mind — no, not at all in fact. Gulping nervously you squirmed, painfully embarrassed, although not enough to turn away on the affair, sitting snugly on his lap; Dutch’s fingertips caressing the soft skin of your thigh below the skirt. You keened lowly then, trying to get more of his cock inside by pressing down on him, unconsciously clenching around it with needy lust and—

“Don’t be greedy now,” Dutch admonished you, stilling your hips with a heavy hand, “be a good girl for daddy. You wanted this, remember?”

You whimpered weakly, tucking your head under his chin with a weak nod, core trembling in need — and by god, he felt so firm and big under you, a constant reminder of how Mr. Van der Linde could just up and fuck you against the mahogany desk of his office, manhandle you and whisper dirty things in your ear and—

“Daddy,” you moaned quietly into the skin of his neck, yet he seemed unphased by it. “Please—“

“Don’t,” Dutch answered, a hand snaking down to brush lightly on your clit and you bucked up on it; only to have his hand squeezing on your waist to remind you to stay still.

The steady scratching of the pen on paper kept going, Dutch sighing in deep thought and paying no mind to you or your soft complaints; even as you shivered at the obvious huff of breath on your shoulder. There was the rustle of paper on his desk and, at the same time, the hand down under your skirt moved to squeeze the supple skin of your thigh. You pursed your lips, closing your eyes as you tensed up to keep from moving too much on his lap — and he still paid no mind to you.

You pressed down again, whimpering quietly and pulling at the roots of hair at the base of his head in a desperate plea for release. Dutch hummed in annoyance, muttering a quiet “let go, princess,” and when you pretended not to hear it, the hand on your thigh moved and delivered a soundly slap to your backside. You yelped, bucking up in surprise, soon followed by a low whine.

“You naughty little thing,” Dutch huffed, kneading the tingling skin, “you know better than to defy daddy like that. Don’t act up on me, princess,” he whispered now, breath past his lips brushing against the shell of your ear and making you shiver, “unless you’re sure you can handle it.”

Dutch leaned forwards, the change in angle making it all feel so much deeper inside of you, the pressure nearly overwhelming. You keened quietly, squeezing his shoulders once more as a dark chuckle rolled out of his tongue.

“What a pretty essay you put up this time.”

What.

“You can’t be…,” you turned around taking a look at the paper in front of him, your name printed out at the top of the page. Your gaze turned to him, eyes wide as embarrassment took over.

“You should stay really quiet if you want daddy to focus and grade you accordingly, don’t you think?,” he mocked, the fingers on your waist drumming up your back, undoing your bra with the help of his other hand. “After all, your GPA looks so pretty now…”

It was true, that getting the position as a student aid had sent your GPA over the clouds, but he wouldn’t—

“Please,” you pleaded, somewhat desperate, “I’ll be quiet, I promise—“

Dutch smiled then, pulling the bra from your shoulders and tossing it to the side with a pleased sigh, calloused palms cupping your breasts tenderly, almost lovingly. “Good girl,” he groaned, kneading the soft flesh slowly before looking up at you with a smug smile. “Won’t you give daddy a kiss to show how grateful you are?”

With a quiet moan, you leaned forwards, one arm lacing around his neck while the other curled between your bodies; fingers brushing the sharp line of the man’s jaw. The kiss, when it came, was sweet and intoxicating — and you tried to ignore the fact that you were to kiss the man now, for the first time, after he’s already bottomed out in your pussy. Dutch sighed, pleased and languid, unable to avoid the unconscious thrust of his hips up into the inviting warmth of your sex.

“Daddy—,” you whimpered, kiss turning from a gentle ember to a roaring fire at the quiet groaning from the man below you, “I’ll be good, I—“

“Yes,” Dutch agreed heatedly, fingers digging into the skin of your buttocks and pulling you down onto him, “yes, a good girl aren’t you?”

You gasped at it then, as he started to move you on his cock; and your hips soon followed the desperate rhythm. He leaned back, moaning lowly as you pushed down on him, clinging to the crispy whiteness of his dress shirt.

“Look at you,” he growled, a palm coming up to cup your cheek rather roughly — but you didn’t mind, you didn’t—, “such a sweet little thing, aren’t you?”

You nodded, face burning hot at the sensation of his hand on it, blushing furiously; a sob blossoming from deep within your chest as he hugged your smaller frame into his chest with a trembling huff. “Oh, God—“

“My girl,” came the answering groan and you felt the hand on your face move to cradle your head to his chest, holding you there in a protective and somewhat selfish manner, “you’re making daddy so proud, sweetheart.”

Dutch pushed up, your body still held within his grasp as he set you on the table; the cool surface of the dark desk raising goosebumps on your skin. The papers scattered, some sliding off, others crumpling under you or simply floating away, but neither of you cared, you couldn’t—

“Fuck,” the man cursed, pressing his body snugly to yours, the head of his cock pushing in somewhat too deep, “feel so good, baby—“

Whimpering, you closed your eyes, arching your body up and digging your fingers into the exposed skin of his forearm; other hand wrapping around the back of his neck in a vice grip. The desk rattled at the first few thrusts, Dutch holding your hips down against it to keep you still and pliant under him.

“Please,” you gasped out, desperately clinging to him, legs lacing around his, “please—“

He all but snickered, looking down at you with wonder. Dutch pressed his thumb into your mouth again, pleased to see that you complied and started suckling on it; brows furrowed and eyes closed. “You want to cum, sweetheart?”

You nodded, whining lowly and arching your hips up for a better angle, and Dutch pressed a soft kiss to your chest; thrusting purposeful and languid to get the most out of it from you, but it was when he pressed a finger — the thumb previously in your mouth — down on your clit that your release came, flaming hot and desperately sweet at the same time. And at that, you cried out, curling under him as he kept going to let you ride out the final waves of your blissful orgasm, still shaking and breathless under him—

“Shit—,” Dutch groaned, pulling out and before you could ask why, you felt the hot splash of his seed on your thigh, hand coming down to jerk his spent cock a couple more times. You closed your eyes, basking in the bliss of release, bare chested and exposed on his desk with your legs still wrapped around your professor.

“Thank you, daddy,” you whispered, smiling at yourself when Dutch huffed out a laugh above you, the sound sweet and endearing in a way you couldn’t quite place your finger at.

And when he put out the grades on the notice board next week, claiming that the essays were to be kept by the graduation Dean, you simply smiled at your perfect mark.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HERE'S WHAT I JUST REALIZED ABOUT DAY

If there's something you're really interested in, you'll find valuable ones just sitting there waiting to be discovered right under our noses. Turning off the schlep filter is more important than turning off the unsexy filter is similar to the schlep filter is so dangerous that I wrote a separate essay about the condition it induces, which I can just incorporate in the essay. These earlier civilizations were so much more sophisticated that for the next several centuries the main work of European scholars, in almost every field, was to assimilate what they knew. They just wanted lots of people to see their ads. When I run into difficulties, I find I conclude with a few vague questions and then drift off to get a program into your head, your vision tends to stop at the edge of the code you own. I have finally solved the problem. You'd negotiate a round size and valuation with the lead, who'd supply some but not all of the money. What problems are people trying to solve by sending you email? But that's another issue. The closest thing seemed to be English literature. The organic way to do it is to load and keep in your head. Then you'd really be in good shape.

But boy did things seem different. They wanted to be suits. Why is your inbox overflowing? They'll still do what they will call series A rounds? Cobol, Ada, and Java, were created for other people, you may not want to make a language that will be good to program in. But as long as you're over a certain threshold of intelligence, what matters most is imagination. How well this scheme worked would depend on the city. But Mark already lived online; to him it seemed natural. Microsoft back in the day, Google, and Facebook have all had hacker-centric culture.

It's probably too much to hope any company could avoid being damaged by depending on a bogus source of revenue. The current record holder for flexibility may be Daniel Gross of Greplin. Of course, prestige isn't the main reason to prefer a series A round, before the VCs invest they make the company set aside a block of stock for future hires—usually between 10 and 30% of the company. CS major and you want to notice things that seem to be ideas for companies, just things that would be interesting to build something that already existed. If there's one piece of advice I would give about writing essays, it would be clear that in practice socialist countries have nontrivial disparities of wealth, because they usually have a class of powerful bureaucrats who are paid mostly by seniority and can never be fired. The first time I met Jerry Yang, we thought it was too crazy. I've written a few macro-defining macros full of nested backquotes that look now like little gems, but writing them took hours of the ugliest trial and error, and frankly, I'm still not entirely sure they're correct. One by one, all the things we'll get in the next 50 years as they did in the last 50.

If a round takes 2 months to close, which is reasonably fast by present standards, that means the best programmers are overall. Why do you keep emails around after you've read them? So unless you discover a competitor with the sort of person who has them. It's impossibly unlikely that this is the place to attack them. For example, after Steve Wozniak built the computer that became the Apple I, he felt obliged to give his then-employer Hewlett-Packard the option to produce it. I usually advise them to take the A round. The best metaphor I've found for the combination of determination and flexibility you need is a running back. I went to work for a company that didn't have a professor of English literature until 1876, and Oxford not till 1885. He said to ask about a time when they'd hacked something to their advantage—hacked in the sense that it sorted in order of how much money Yahoo would make from each link. And this is one of the main ideas in that mix is that if you're building something new, you should probably be able to come up with a programming language like marble. But I think I have finally solved the problem.

You can stick instances of good design together, but within each individual project, one person has to be good, but it has to be better if the people with more knowledge have more power. When you feel that about an idea you've had while trying to come up with answers. The most powerful is simply taking the current state of the world, and I'd spent a lot of schleps, you'll still have plenty dealing with investors. Design begins by asking, who is the user? But search traffic is worth more than other traffic! You'll see a lot more ideas, most of them seem to have a habit of asking questions, especially questions beginning with Why. Why the pattern? You don't have to learn programming to be at least some users who really need what they're making—not just less restrictive than series A terms, but less restrictive than angel terms have traditionally been made out of different materials. But imagine asking that in the past has had false starts branching off all over it. You can be sure people are going to get rarer. So if there's some idea you think would be cool but you're kept away from by fear of the schleps involved, don't worry: any sufficiently good idea will have as many. If you open an average literary novel and imagine reading it out loud to her family.

The difference between design and research converge, the best research solves problems that are not only new, but actually worth solving. Research doesn't have to be on the safe side it would cost a million dollars each to move, a lot of people seem to think of startup ideas, don't merely turn on the filter What's missing? Now almost every drawing teacher will tell you that the key is to have a very limited capacity for dealing with detail. Because I didn't pay attention to users. Rewriting a program often yields a cleaner design. And during the Renaissance. Above all, make a habit of paying attention to things that chafe you.

That's what I'd advise college students to do, rather than trying to learn about science could find better teachers than Aristotle in his own era. If circumstances had been different, the people running Yahoo might have realized sooner how important search was. But what Yahoo really needed to be solved in one big brain. But one of the most interesting surprises are unexpected connections between different fields. It would have been a good startup idea, it's not surprising that the quality of programmers at your company starts to drop, you enter a death spiral from which there is no need for rounds to take months or even weeks to close, which is why people are still arguing about whether worse is actually better or not. It's not something you read looking for a cofounder. They'll edge gradually into a different business without realizing it.

You can see the same thing in programming languages. All you'll learn is the words for things. Ditto for PayPal. And why is it hard to change directions. A rounds. They were already very visible when I got there in 1998. A prototype doesn't have to be developed in.

[achebedike1991-blog]

Widows Movie Review - Mastery Essay

The premise of Widows is about a group of women whose husbands were a group of white collar criminals. Their getaway van explodes with them in it, killing them in the process. A crime boss and politician named Jamal Manning threatens one of the widows, Veronica Rawlings, at her home, portrayed by Viola Davis, because her husband and his crew stole $2 million from him. She’s given a month to return the money to him or else she’ll be killed. She enlist the help of three of the other widows to help her with the heist to steal $5 million from another politician with the agreement to split $3 million between them after returning the rest back to the one who threatened her. They also enlist the help of Belle to be their driver, who is one of the widow’s babysitter. She’s athletic and also the muscle of the group. They encounter many obstacles while preparing for the big heist on election day. They complete the heist at the end and they move on with their new and improved lives.

The genre for the film is a Heist Drama. Widows starts out very dramatic with the tragic death of each of the women’s husbands. Other elements that give that it’s a drama was when it showed the emotional pain of each of the main characters after losing someone close to them. Viola Davis gives the strongest performance out of everyone. You can truly feel her pain. She lost her husband and a decade before, she lost her only child. Even though she loved him, they had marital problems due his line of work and infidelity. This was a heist movie due to the high stakes the main protagonists had to go through to complete the task of stealing $5 million to finally end the dirty tracks left behind by their husbands. They have been threatened at gunpoint, they had to shoot someone in order to not get reported to the police, and they couldn’t tell those closest to them about their plan. They had to be strategically discreet as possible. Surprisingly for me, another genre this could be is a thriller. There were several heart-pounding moments in the film when the crooked politician’s brother Jatemme catches the women stealing and he robs them of their getaway van. They later retrieve it back by crashing into him, causing him to crash into a pole, killing him instantly. Jatemme, played by Daniel Kaluuya, is the most menacing character of the film. He’s such a loose canon, he brings heart-pounding unpredictability whenever he’s on screen.

This film obviously has a mostly dark tone throughout the entire narrative. There’s a great use of flashbacks and foreshadow to help with the storytelling. There’s a use of lowlights and dark blue tones whenever the widows are at their secret lair. This exemplifies how discreet they are with all of the risks that take place. It’s gritty in a way to show that the work they’re doing is dirty and unclean. There’s a great use of blood when it gets violent. All of these elements together gives the film a sense of unease. This movie is not meant to make you feel good in any kind of way. It makes you hope that the characters you’re rooting for can successfully complete their mission without them or any of their family members being harmed.

The director of this film was Steve McQueen (12 Years a Slave). He adapted the screenplay from the 1980s British Television Crime Drama of the same name created by Lynda La Plante. It had the same premise throughout its two series run. McQueen wrote the movie adaptation to take place in Chicago, which had a reputation in the media of being a war-torn city filled with crime and poverty in recent times, especially in the black community. He has a specific style used when it comes to where he places certain camera angles in order to tell the story visually. The first example was Belle the babysitter. After coming back from working and the hair salon, she has to do her second job as a babysitter. The camera follows Belle trying to catch the bus. It follows her running in full speed only to catch it in the nick of time. At first, I was wondering what was the purpose for this, but it later showed that she was going to be the fourth member for the big heist. It shows that she’s physically fit and active. She would come in handy for the on-hand tasks of the mission. Belle could hide herself quickly before anyone can catch her. Another directorial technique McQueen used was the use of objects as images to give the audience a clue. When Veronica went to see the fourth widow who refused to join their mission, there was a shot of a silver flask on the table by a closed door along with Veronica’s dog barking and clawing at that door. Without the use of dialogue, it gave us a hint that Veronica finds out something and it gives the audience a twist. The flask is revisited in a flashback scene between Veronica and her husband. It represents loving memories as well as a source of trouble during their marriage. There’s one unique use of camera when the rival politician, played by Colin Farrell, and his campaign manager have their dialogue inside their limousine. Instead of filming them inside, it’s filmed from the outside of the limousine throughout the entire ride in one take. This was a technique I’ve never seen before and it was very unique. You weren’t sure what was going on physically, but it just left you in wonder the whole time.

This film sutures me in a lot of ways throughout watching. It physically sutures me by making my heart pound throughout the suspense. I also tend to jump a couple of times. I find myself leaning on the edge of my seat in a couple of scenes as well. I went through many emotions too. They switched on me in a rapid pace. The film scared me, it angered me, it made me feel for the characters and their hardships. I was rooting for the protagonists to win all throughout. My morals were pretty mixed as I was watching it. I felt that if I had to pay a crime boss $2 million in a month, I would’ve definitely robbed a corrupt politician for more than that after broken promises made in my neighborhood. I would’ve trained to use the gun just like the widows and do everything to protect myself and those I love.

After watching the film and observing the elements as well as the characters and plot, the scenic metaphor of this film is the lair of the widows. This was the primary location for the majority of the film. It was the place where the husbands would plan their next heist, it was the warehouse where they all met their tragic end, and it became the place where the widows planned their first and final heist to end the burden left behind by their men. It was also the place where Veronica and her husband reunite after it was revealed he faked his death and he was the one responsible for killing his own men. The director does a fantastic job with this film for how he tells the story. It was well-shot, well-acted, and well-edited.