#it just sounds so so so much like the background section of a thesis. and im only like 500 words in.

[cisthoughtcrime]

.

[autumnslance]

Thancred & Louisoix

From the tags on another post, there was commentary about "cute art but" and then spoke of a perspective being Louisoix "kidnapped" Thancred, sent him to spy training but not Studium, claimed there were no provisions made for him nor that Louisoix developed the same close relationships with Thancred as with Papalymo or Urianger, and then Thancred nearly destroys himself trying to live up to expectations they felt Louisoix had set.

While it IS a possible perspective, I dunno that it's one I personally agree with, even if one has a less-charitable view of the old Leveilleur patriarch. Everything in "One Name, One Promise" (Thancred's "Tales from the Shadows" short story on the official Lodestone site) indicates that Louisoix gave Thancred a choice in coming to Sharlayan, after noting the boy's skills and potential, the first person who ever did.

Skills and abilities he already had learned through sheer survival, and were then honed and turned to a better use than picking pockets and sneak-thiefing, showing the kid there was a better way. And even as a Gunbreaker, Thancred's always seemed quite proud of his infiltration skills.

Y'shtola wasn't sent to the Studium either; she was directly apprenticed to a Master, as Thancred was, and as indicated in "Secret in the Box", the Thancred-centric backstory side quest in Old Sharlayan in Endwalker, several others were apprenticed as well. Not everyone who attends the Studium does become an Archon--the rest of the Leveilleur family, for instance, are also all graduates of that institute.

In a nation that is built around education and knowledge, they are going to know there's more than one right way to learn, as everyone is different and so to are their paths to success. And not everyone goes on to get their doctorates, which Archon seems equivalent to--you have to want that level, as it's a lot. Alisaie in Shadowbringers patches mentions her thesis for graduation was onerous enough, an Archon one sounded like too much.

Thancred wears his marks on his neck. A proof to himself as much or more than others of his worth, perhaps. Dude has a lot of hangups; is infamous for them, really. And sets his own expectations on his worth.

In ARR, especially in the scene after Ifrit, Minfilia is obviously weary of Thancred's self-recriminations. Any idea that he has to be better and live up to an ideal seem entirely his own, that no one else--even those other close apprentices--seem to have been left with themselves. It's part of Thancred's own personality thanks to his very different background from his peers.

In Shadowbringers, during the time in Twine trying to get the trolley sorted out, Thancrd himself notes that he had a father figure in Loiusoix--he was just too stubborn and hurt as a youth to realize it yet. Which indicates to me, at least, that Louisoix probably didn't push Thancred's boundaries.

In fact, Thancred spends a lot of time in that section of 5.0 MSQ talking about what a callow, foolish youth he was, how he didn't realize what he DID have, until it was far too late. His struggle in ShB is his old, unresolved traumas conflicting with his present feelings and situation once again, making it difficult for him to accept he HAS found love, family, safety, etc. and finally dealing with that--culminating in a cathartic battle with his nemesis to protect his family.

And even then, all the way through 5.3, it's still hard for Thancred to say what he feels out loud, publicly. It's just not easy for him. He's opened up slightly more in EW, but still edges around a bit.

What Thancred says specifically in the ShB quest "The Truth Hurts":

Thancred: I grew up an orphan, so I never really knew what family meant. Thancred: Not until I met a man who offered to take me in and make me his pupil. He was a kindly soul. Always looking out for me, like a father. Not that I appreciated that at the time, or anything else for that matter… Thancred: But I finally had a family. And then…and then I robbed a young girl of hers.

(and then of course still blames himself for what happened to Warburton and Minfilia despite everything Thancred DID do for them...)

Anyway. I've spent a lot of time studying their relationship, back when I wrote Rogue's Prelude and in new lore released since then, to see what, if anything, contradicts. And in everything I came across, the only one who didn't consciously realize what family he's had the entire time, is Thancred himself; he couldn't dare to call it that. It's a much more recent revelation for him, even as he strove to prove his worth and take on the role of protector and fill those shoes, given his own over-developed sense of responsibility to the people in his life.

Since it's a longer passage (and this got wordy enough), the lines from "One Name, One Promise" are under the cut (as external links so far as I know kill post visibility).

The elderly Elezen whom he chose as his mark had other ideas, however. No sooner had the boy lifted a hand than he found himself flat on his back, his limbs bound by powerful magicks. A short life in gaol beckoned, or perhaps a quick death.

And then the strangest thing happened. The man took him by the hand, led him to a quiet corner away from the bustling crowds, looked him straight in the eye and said, “My name is Louisoix Leveilleur. I am a scholar from across the seas. What is your name, child?”

“Thancred,” the boy mumbled, still in disbelief.

“Thancred...what? Have you any family?” the old man continued, with a sympathetic smile.

“Just Thancred,” the boy shrugged. “And I don’t have a family—at least, none that I know of.”

The man who had called himself Louisoix paused for a moment, stroking his beard, before appearing to come to a conclusion.

“You are quick and able beyond your years. Were you only in a place where you could learn to use these gifts for the good of all, rather than merely as tools for your own survival—why, there is no telling what life you might lead...”

Thancred listened in silence, his frown speaking volumes. It’s not as if I chose this, you know. But Louisoix responded with a sad-yet-knowing smile, and the words that would change the boy’s life forever.

“Come with me to Sharlayan. You are a gifted child, and there is much that I would teach you...”

And so it was that Thancred’s new life began.

To commemorate the occasion, Thancred was to claim the surname of “Waters.” Such flourishes had been unnecessary on the Lominsan streets, but would be indispensable in more respectable locales. Thancred chafed at first, not keen to declare his lowly heritage to all and sundry, but Master Louisoix would brook no opposition. “Thaliak, guardian of rushing rivers and purveyor of knowledge,” the sage mused. “A lad such as yourself could do far worse for a protector.” And so Thancred grudgingly accepted the name he would come to wear with pride.

Louisoix also found a suitable mentor for the child—an old hand in covert operations who would train Thancred to follow in his printless footsteps. Sharlayan was a society that valued knowledge and expertise in all forms, and shadowy agents were not shunned as disreputable rogues, but respected as key contributors to the nation. It was in such a capacity that Louisoix hoped the boy might excel and find his true calling.

Stunned as he was at this turn of events, Thancred was no fool. He understood the future Louisoix envisioned for him, and endeavored to do all he could to meet his patron’s expectations. He honed his body that he might infiltrate the most impregnable of strongholds in the harshest of environments, and his mind that he might charm the wariest merchants and socialites in the most critical of circumstances.

Before he knew it, the streetwise child of the Lominsan alleyway was no more. In his place stood a confident youth who could pose as anyone’s friend and confidant long enough to procure the knowledge his client demanded.

A short while later, Thancred’s surpassing skills were recognized, and upon his skin was inscribed the sigil of an Archon. When Louisoix gazed upon this mark, he could scarce contain his joy. The boy he had personally led out of penury and taken under his wing had realized his potential.

[interlagosed]

Do you have any advice on the writing and structuring of research papers?

Also I just wanna say I remember you mentioned before that you deeply care about trans rights issues, wrote about it before and i think they got published as well? Regardless, I wanna thank you so much for this. I’m nonbinary (and for a while questioned if I were trans) so this means a lot on a personal level♥️ Seeing how much you care about it makes me hopeful and optimistic about the future♥️

that's actually exactly the paper that's getting published!!  💖 it's the least i can do in a world like ours. you have my undying support beloved!!

re: writing, i think there's a lot of ways you can proceed. you should always have an outline, no matter what! And even if you don't know how to structure it, you can never go wrong with A. INTRO; B. BACKGROUND; C. ANALYSIS; D. CONCLUSION. That's such an easy structure that you can tease as you need for your purposes!

Once you have that down, bullet-points are your best friend. I'll literally just braindump all my thoughts. If I think of sources to cite to, I'll add in placeholder footnotes with rough directions (this will save you so much time later down the line, PLEAAASE do this). this is a messy process because it involves me jumping around all over the place, but it helps. you'll start seeing other sections of your paper come together, and to make my life a little bit easier, i'll just title those sections according to the thesis sentence. Once I've got this much written down, I always generate a table of contents. Example (this is a paper i'm writing right now lmao):

It might seem like a waste of time, but this really keeps me on track. It's so easy to get lost in the weeds when you're at this stage of outlining, and it's really difficult to begin writing, but a table of contents always gives you a great bird's eye view of your own paper. So if you're lost, go back to the TOC; invariably, you'll start thinking of extra points to add to one or two sections. Your TOC is your compass! Don't underestimate the power of it!

Finally: TAKE. A LOT. OF BREAKS. DON'T hit your head against a wall. Get up and walk away. This means building some time into your writing plan to give you breaks, but i promise you'll go back into it so much more refreshed. similarly, if you don't have a lot of time, breaks are even more important. that sounds counterproductive, but you cannot afford to let your brain overheat. it's better to take a one hour break if it means you'll write up a storm for half an hour, as opposed to writing a paragraph over an hour and a half.

I have a lot more I could say but this is already getting long lol so i hope this helps!!

[turtlemagnum]

list of reasons i don't like watching streams, an incomplete and petty list:

"omg thank you for the dollars chat member, this means so much to me that i'm gonna play an obnoxious sound effect every time this happens and then comment on it instead of saying something worthwhile or playing the damn game"

they always play the damn game in annoying ways!!!! like ohhh my god dude this puzzle is SO OBVIOUS and you are a GORMLESS RUBE and i hope you CHOKE ON YOUR OWN SKULL

annoying ass music while i'm trying to hear the damn game!!! like ohhh yeah i totally wanna hear a midi version of a cruel angel's thesis with every 3rd note replaced by a fart sound when i come in to watch the funnyman play skyrim

annoying! ass! people!!!! like whenever they're not boring mcgenericguy they're OMGESUS DID YOU JUST SEE THAT????? DID YOU JSUT SEE THAT BLATANTLY OBVIOUS THING!>!>!>>!>>! AAAA THAT WAS SO (adjective) GUYSX I SWEARRRRRR

oh wow you found somebody that's funny and not annoying??? too bad they're still gonna get stuck on this really obvious part of the game for the next hour and you're gonna have to sit through it!!!!

you know how youtube comments sections are like the worst part of youtube. yeah chat's just that but if you don't acknowledge it you're not gonna get that sweet interaction so nobody's gonna watch you so even the good guys are still gonna be like "OMG CHAT DID YOU SEE THAT????" out of necessity

so yeah that's why i like to watch edited videos, i know some people only really use streamers for background noise but personally i don't have a problem using longform edited videos for that so eh, not for me

(nothing against you if you like streamers/streams, but i swear to god if i see ONE MORE poorly edited picture of stream-man mctwinkface over here im gonna have a fuckign aneurysm)

[studythenight-away]

Hello! As finals season (aka 5-research-papers-due-in-a-week season) dawns on many of you, I thought I would share the process I used to write papers in college. This made writing long research papers much less daunting (but can also work on shorter papers). I really hope this helps some of you who feel stuck. Especially during these ridiculous times, when you're stuck at home and might have other uncontrollable factors affecting your mental health, a clear framework of what to do could be helpful. Good luck, my friends! You got this.

About me

I graduated college in 2018 with degrees in Political Science + International Studies and will be starting law school this fall. I wrote nearly 20 15 to 25-page papers, never earning below an A. I loved researching about my topics but hated writing. It's tedious, takes so much time, and everything I write sounds bad at first. Plus, I was a terrible procrastinator so most of these essays were written in under a week. Talk about stress.

Over time I found a process that worked for me, one that made churning out a paper seem straightforward, like going through a factory line rather than this terrifying concept of writing 10,000 words. It kept me sane without decreasing the quality of my work (or more importantly, how much I learned!) 

I'm thinking about making a short video to show this in action… let me know if that could be helpful!

Step 1: Research

How you organize your research is a key step in keeping you sane. Usually I'll have a pile of 20 books in my dorm along with dozens of JSTOR tabs open on my laptop, and that can get overwhelming very fast. Right now just focus on collecting ideas, not developing an argument or even an outline! As with most research papers, you could be starting with little to no background information on the topic, so it is still too early to be thinking about an argument.

Put all your research in one document

Open up a new doc: this will be the heart of everything. For a 15-page paper I usually end up with around 14-18 pages of typed research, 10 pt font, single spaced, tiny margins. This seems like a lot, but essentially all I do is type up anything I read that seems relevant to my topic, so luckily this step does not require that much brain power. Just type type type!

Use the table of contents

Find the chapter(s) that are actually relevant instead of skimming through the whole book. Time is of the essence here!

Use Zotero, cite right away

You can also use easybib or whatever you're used to, but keep track of your sources. I like Zotero because I can keep a log of all of my sources and copy the footnote or bibliography version whenever needed. Before you even begin reading, cite the source and copy it into your research doc. This will save you so much time later when you have to put in your citations in the actual paper. 

Here is an example of what my research doc looks like:

Full citation is my heading for each source just so it’s crystal clear

I ignore all typos (I don’t think there are any in this part though, go me!) because my head is buried in the book just trying to get all the info down

I always start with the page number so I know what to cite when I go back

Create a shorthand 

While typing up research, you might think of something that the author didn't talk about that you'll want to write in your paper. Or perhaps a few sentences already start to form. Put them all in one place, with your research, so you know what source you'll have to cite to then lead into your idea. I type "!@#" before anything that is strictly my own idea so I'm never confused. It's fast and stands out.

This is an example: the two bullet points above are evidence from my source, which made me think of this argument I could make, which I noted with “!@#”

Step 2: Read Your Research

Now that you have all your information, go back and read through it all. Every time you read about a new theme/person/event, write it down somewhere. You may come up with a list of 20+ different ideas in your research. No matter how small, as long as there is something about it, write it down. Each of these mini themes is going to end up being a paragraph in your paper or combined with another mini theme. 

Once you’ve made your list, look for larger overarching themes. In the paper I’ve shown you, I had mini categories like “political party x” “religion” “labor groups” “little organization” and “hierarchy.” When I looked back I though, hey these are all groups and how groups are working together, so they each became their own mini paragraph under the subsection of “Alliances.”

As with most research paper structures, I try to find three general themes/subsections (like an extended version of that 5-paragraph essay we wrote in middle school). It makes the paper less messy and also makes sure I’m not covering things that are beyond a reasonable scope.

During this step, you are also searching for your thesis. It won’t be your final version. As you fill in your outline in the next step you may make slight changes. But this is definitely when you start thinking about it.

Step 3: Outline

We’re ready to outline! Once I’ve collected all my different themes and organized all my subsections and paragraphs, it’s time to fill in that outline. I start a new doc just for the outline and take advantage of google doc’s headings function to make a clear document outline.

Here comes the fun part, I read through my research one more time, this time copy and pasting all my research into each section of the outline. The document outline in google docs makes this easy because I can just click on each subheading to get me there (super helpful when you’re dealing with 15+ pages of research).

Here is what it looks like:

Let’s say I need to add something to my outline about labor groups. Boom, labor groups. Also, the typos are really abound here haha

Step 4: Write the Paper

Okay, I get it, easier said than done. BUT! You already have everything set up. Your outline is essentially just a list of your paragraphs and all you have to do is paraphrase, cite, and create a topic sentence. And that’s how you should think about this: you’re essentially transforming bullet points into sentences and adding footnotes. 

In high school my English teacher introduced us to Sh*tty First Drafts for creative writing, but honestly the same applies to research papers. Sometimes I’ll even have phrases like “wait no that’s not what I meant but basically...” and when I go back to edit, I realize that what came after “but basically...” is fine! And I keep it. So just start typing.

How do you cite while you write? Because we’re trying to get a constant stream of writing going, inserting proper footnotes after each sentence you type is too bothersome. I usually split screen with my outline and my paper so I just copy and paste a few words from my bullet point into my footnote, like so:

(This is from a different paper about cluster munitions.)

Step 5: Edit the Paper

I work best when I print out my first draft and make all edits in red pen. I feel more productive and can visually see where I want to move sentences and what I need to change. The more red there is the better I can feel the paper getting. (Whether or not that’s true doesn’t matter. We’re trying to stay motivated here!) When it’s all digital I don’t really see the progress. Plus, once I finish all the red, I get another moment of passive brain work, where all I’m doing is transferring edits rather than thinking. And at this point in the process, that kind of relief is much welcomed. 

The good thing about this process is there’s not usually a need to cut entire paragraphs or pages because the paper you end up with is just a formalized version of your outline. Because you started with such a detailed outline, the cutting and editing now is just to refine your word choices and get rid of the “but basically”s. You’re almost there!

Step 6: Replace your citations

Now it’s time to go back and replace your footnotes with actual citations. Zotero makes this easy because in Word you can just insert and add the page number, and it’ll automatically do “Ibid.” for you when needed. Ctrl+f in the original research doc to quickly find the source.

Step 7: One More Read-Through and Submit!

Congratulations!! You’ve got a fully-researched and well-backed paper! Of course, even though the process is straightforward, it’s still a lot of work. In ideal situations I would start researching two weeks before the deadline, but if need be, I believe I’ve done this all in three miserable panic-filled days as well. 

Please message me if you have any questions at all! I really hope some of you find this helpful! Good luck!

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: infinitely varied Ship: obikin Summary: Sometimes your husband decides to develop an artificial intelligence capable of free choice and something called a soul and succeeds in the middle of a Thursday night. Or, more concretely: he's in the middle of succeeding because said intelligence first has to learn how to speak.Also known as Obi-Wan and Anakin teach a tiny program called A.H.S.O.K.A. how to be something more than lines of code via the power of linguistics. AN: Happy birthday @ghostwriterofthemachine

Language is a process of free creation; its laws and principles are fixed, but the manner in which the principles of generation are used is free and infinitely varied. Even the interpretation and use of words involves a process of free creation.

Noam Chomsky

I.

Life was a query of expectations, margins on doorframes, bucket lists, first loves, broken hearts, and happy middles because only fools would settle for a happy ending when they had so many decades left to live. The thought never failed to bring a smile to Anakin’s face, no matter how frustrated, remembering the simple way Obi-Wan had proposed. There had been no fancy dinner, particularly stunning outing, or anything resembling outlandish romantic gestures. Anakin would have appreciated them because every act would have been colored by Obi-Wan’s love, but now, older and wiser than the rash youth who’s fallen in love at first heated debate, he preferred the way their proposal had actually gone down. A quiet Sunday morning, eating breakfast together on the sofa while the news droned in the background from Anakin’s old radio, a hesitant “I don’t need forever, but I want the present”.

And, well, for all his genius, Anakin could be a bit of an idiot sometimes, but not when it came to this.

Married life was interesting.

Somehow nothing changed, except also everything. They had bought a real house, moved out of their old apartment and made more compromises than Anakin had ever thought himself capable of, for they hadn’t been like fighting an uphill battle but dancing together. It had made him happy to paint the entrance hall in the shade of green Obi-Wan preferred if he got to paint the kitchen in the light blue he wanted.

Obi-Wan got the attic for his office where his antique book collection looked right at home, and Anakin got the basement where the hum of his servers and the generator powering them annoyed nobody else.

It was as close to white-picket-fence as it could be with two queer men, no kids, a bratty cat, and an anxious dog under one roof. His childhood self would be appalled to see how much Anakin, always the whirlwind, had settled. To a nine-year-old, Anakin probably looked very adult.

Anakin, however, did not feel very grown-up, banging his head against his desk in the middle of the night. Obi-Wan had gone to sleep hours ago, and so had Anakin until inspiration had struck and he’d snuck out of bed to return to his favorite project.

A.H.S.O.K.A may not be a child, but Anakin certainly could relate to exhausted parents when they complained about their children in endless repetitions. To this day, Anakin didn’t know why his mother figured it would be great parenting to encourage her WarGames obsessed kid to dig into the world of artificial intelligence when WOPR nearly started a nuclear war, but he’d forever remain thankful.

Or, he’d resume being thankful when he could finally get A.H.S.O.K.A to learn. He’d rewritten her code a thousand times. It was his ever-constant companion, from his first awful-looking early 2000s website to its current incarnation. A.H.S.O.K.A could solve simple logic puzzles, given that he fed her enough data. Her solutions to tasks could be downright hilarious, but they were not enough. He wanted her to be smarter, better, capable of gaining true understanding.

Perhaps, it was a dream for the future and not a Thursday night.

Anakin didn’t have any work tomorrow morning as he worked as a freelancer, so he could afford to pull an all-nighter. But his dear husband had planned a nice afternoon for them, so Anakin should call it a night or a morning as a glance at the clock told him.

Staring at the many lines of code again, Anakin sighed and leaned back in his chair and took another sip of his by-now cold tea. Obi-Wan would definitely complain that Anakin had snatched his favorite mug once he got up and couldn’t find it in the kitchen. Anakin had bought it at the last linguistic convention Obi-Wan had taken him to.

Language is a process of free invention, it read in delicate cursive before the rest of the quote disassembled in pure chaos.

Huh.

Now there was a thought. Anakin got out of his chair and left the basement, haunted by fixed principles and infinite combinations. Up in the attic, carrying Obi-Wan’s computer downstairs again, Anakin thought on interpretations and free creations. He was as giddy and nervous as he’d been on the morning of his wedding day, which had started similarly early. Connecting Obi-Wan’s computer, and more importantly, the priced result of his thesis, to Anakin’s server felt a little like unwrapping birthday presents.

language_acquisition_prediction.exe

Enter.

II.

Obi-Wan was not surprised when he woke to an empty bed. Anakin had a habit of suddenly pulling all-nighters or getting up early before the sun even thought of rising. Given that he couldn’t smell breakfast yet, Obi-Wan deduced that Anakin had pulled an all-nighter again. He slowly crawled out of bed to avoid disturbing Artoo and Threepio sleeping to his feet. Obi-Wan was pretty sure he shared his bed more often with his pets than he did with his husband.

He walked down the stairs to the ground level and went by the kitchen to prepare himself a cup of tea. To his displeasure, Obi-Wan couldn’t find his favorite mug and so had to settle for another. After another thought, he decided to make a second one for Anakin, lavender this time so Anakin would hopefully crash after breakfast. He put both mugs on a small tray together with a couple tomatoes. Obi-Wan usually wasn’t one for eating a full breakfast on workdays – that was the influence of Anakin and his mother’s kitchen – but he was the expert in smalltime snacks. With both in hand, he walked down the second flight of stairs, down to the basement. As expected, he found Anakin at his desk, clinging to what was bound to be a cold cup, staring intensely at his screens, which were running one program or another.

“Good morning,” Obi-Wan greeted him and kissed Anakin’s cheek.

“Mo-orning,” Anakin replied, a yawn interrupting him halfway. “Wait, what time is it?”

“Eight,” Obi-Wan said. “How long have you been up?”

“Uuuh.” Obi-Wan didn’t need to see Anakin’s face to know the answer. “Did you even go to sleep?”

“I did sleep for a while!” Anakin argued. “But then I had an idea, I mean, look at this!”

Obi-Wan gave the screens a closer look. Despite common misconceptions, he was not technically illiterate. Privately, he blamed the fact that Anakin was quite well known for his tech know-how and Obi-Wan tended to talk more about literature given that he was filling in as a lecturer in the British Lit. department. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan had gotten his professorship with a program he’d written, and the code currently displayed on the screens looked very similar to a section that had given him stress nightmares. “Is that my thesis?” he asked.

“Yes, sorta, partially?” Anakin replied. “I kind of took it apart a lot and maybe corrupted it a bit, but that’s not the important part! Look what she’s doing with it.”

She could only refer to one person, intelligence. There were a few constants in their life, their new house the most recent one, and Ahsoka was probably the longest. Obi-Wan didn’t know why Anakin hadn’t set her aside already, he was happy enough to leave other started-never-finished projects lying around, but the last time he’d even just suggested such, Anakin had looked heartbroken.

Obi-Wan looked at the screen Anakin was pointing at and began to read.

script input: inhibition auditory input 1 designation skyguy: /ˌɪn.ɪˈbɪʃ.ən/ auditory input 2 designation professor: /ˌɪn.hɪˈbɪʃ.ən/ analysis: mismatch diagnosis: outstanding

script input: better auditory input 1 designation skyguy: /ˈbet̬.ɚ/ auditory input 2 designation professor: /ˈbet.ər/ analysis: mismatch diagnosis: rhoticism? query: define

The text continued for a while, though apparently Ahsoka only picked out the mismatched parts in her analysis.

“Is that ‘Must have done something right’?” Obi-Wan asked, the connection between the words suddenly starting to make sense.

“Yes!” Anakin grinned. “I wasn’t quite sure how to teach her sounds properly because I hadn’t equipped her with a sound analysis program before and I figured that if babies just learn by listening to their parents, Ahsoka could learn by listening to us.”

“So you fed her audio of us singing?” Obi-Wan wasn’t sure whether to be impressed, confused, or just plain tired but decided to settle on confusion for now and let the course of the conversation determine where they’d end up.

“That too, but I actually just started by playing old voice messages. I figured getting her used to just one phonetic inventory would be enough for now. Honestly, for the first hour, I wasn’t even sure whether that would be of any use because she had no symbols to connect the sounds to, and I thought using the IPA might bias her.”

Because, of course, Anakin never deleted any of Obi-Wan’s voice messages and just kept them on his phone. The fact that he just glossed over it as if it weren’t anything special either made Obi-Wan smile.

“It’s cute that you think we have the same inventory,” Obi-Wan commented. “But continue. You just let her listen to sounds and then? Don’t tell me you gave her written texts.”

Anakin rolled his eyes and confirmed another one of Ahsoka’s queries before answering. “No, I gave her the IPA then and let her listen to the full inventory and then analyze which ones we use.”

That made enough sense. Obi-Wan was reasonably sure it was a great deal more complicated than Anakin was lying it out right now, but it was still within the realm of possible and not downright sci-fi. There were enough programs that could analyze speech and filter out patterns, recognize even emotions and tone. Feeding data to a computer wasn’t too different from the way babies learned, though, as far as Obi-Wan knew from talking to people with children, they didn’t like their progeny being compared to lines of code.

“And you accomplished this by feeding my thesis program, which is meant to predict the language acquisition of children, to Ahsoka?”

“Yes, that, uh, happened more or less,” Anakin said, his nose scrunched up just so that Obi-Wan knew he wasn’t certain. “I’m pretty sure I like, wrote some of it down. Not all of it because I knocked out at like 4 a.m., which resulted in pretty interesting inquiries on the great vowel shift.”

Obi-Wan froze. “She’s asking about the great vowel shift?”

There was a difference in the size of the Atlantic between analyzing sounds and recognizing a six-hundred-year-old change in pronunciation.

“Not really,” Anakin said. “She just noticed the patterns? And had inquiries? We’ve been following up on it since, mostly by also giving her written text, but I think that might have backfired and confused her a bit. I’m thinking of synching up the input with a visible feed so she’d learn to associate an actual object with the sound, but I’m not sure whether that wouldn’t just lead to her matching data instead of actually learning its relevance. Can teach an AI what an apple looks like, sounds like, tastes like, but that doesn’t mean you can teach it what an apple is and all that.”

Anakin smiled impishly, and unfortunately, despite his generally messy appearance, Obi-Wan still thought he was handsome. “Please don’t cite my book back at me like that.”

Closing his eyes for a moment and pinching his nose, Obi-Wan tried to focus. This was not how he expected to start his free day. He needed to wake up and possibly grab his notes to sort out this mess. This almost made him wish the car was still wrecked and Anakin would spend all his free time fixing that. “Did you have to start her on English of all languages?”

Anakin was fluent in two other romance languages; it would have been much easier to deal with a French AI than an English one. Sighing, Obi-Wan looked at Ahsoka’s latest question and promptly frowned.

script input: bear auditory input: /beər/ match found: bare analysis: mismatch diagnosis: failed word formation query: bear = bare? query: deletion >bare<?

“How long has she been doing that?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Doing what— oh, that’s new.”

So Ahsoka had jumped from matching sounds to text to comparing sound to words and then referencing those words against one another. That was a logical step, but also a step Obi-Wan wasn’t quite sure she should be doing without prompting.

“She thinks bear and bare are related because they have the same sound. Didn’t really expect that turn of events. Should I show her those are two different words?”

“Does she even know what a word is yet?” Obi-Wan asked in turn.

“No.”

“Then teach her what a word is first— after breakfast. I want your pancakes.”

“You never want pancakes on a Friday.”

“My husband also never decided to rope me into teaching an artificial intelligence morphology before.”

Obi-Wan needed a proper meal for this. He could talk to his students on an empty stomach, but he could not deal with the latest brand of Skywalker insanity without something sweet first.

“I haven’t—”

Ever the negotiator, Obi-Wan decided to shut Anakin up with a kiss. “After breakfast.”

Ahsoka’s many questions could wait for an hour.

[whentherewerebicycles]

hello anon!! okay, this is going to be a very long post, so buckle up. standard caveat: since i don’t know the specifics of your topic or discipline or situation, some of this will hopefully be relevant and some of it might not, so just grab what works for you and leave the rest! and if you have more specific questions that this general overview doesn’t touch on, feel free to send those in.

it sounds like you have a few different questions here:

How do I find and articulate my research question?

How do I effectively take notes on my background reading in the early stages, when I’m not sure yet what my argument is going to be?

How do I organize a long research project/paper? How do I conceptualize something that has so many moving parts & happens to be a genre (a thesis) that I’ve never written before?

How do I write something that long? 

also I am not sure if by “diss” you mean a senior thesis, master’s thesis, or a doctoral dissertation, as I know US and non-US universities use different terminology! so I will kinda just respond to this as A Very Lengthy Research Paper.

my response here will focus mostly on that first question (how to find/articulate a research question), with some thoughts at the end about notetaking in the early stages of a big research project. I’m going to lay out a method I just used with my own students to help them articulate questions & generate possible lines of inquiry to follow. I have been calling it the ‘research tier’ activity/system but it’s a pretty basic way of mapping out possible directions for a project. I use some version of this for every big project I undertake - whether it’s academic work, planning a course syllabus, or writing fic.

I want to emphasize, before I start, that the “tier” map you construct is a LIVING document, not a set-in-stone plan that has to be finished before you begin. the goal is to get past the anxiety of the blank page by generating tons and tons of ideas and questions related to your central topic -- so that if you hit a dead end, you can trace your way back and follow a different line of inquiry. when i am working on a research project, i am continually updating this planning document (i’ll say more about that at the end, once you have a sense of what the tiers look like).

Those questions are geared towards my students, who are working more in social science-y disciplines and/or on projects that have clear connections to specific communities. If you are writing a more traditional humanities discipline, here are some other examples:

I’m interested in...

the romance novel as a genre

Virginia Woolf’s writings on nature/the environment

the cultural reception and impact of the TV show Will & Grace

what queer social life looked like in 1920s New York

play and playfulness in the college classroom (my current research project, which I’ll use as an example)

once you have some idea of your focus, you can begin generating questions related to that focus. “Tier 2″ begins to get slightly more specific, though you are still very much in “big picture” mode. here’s some sentence stems I give my students to help them generate tier 2 questions:

my students are doing research projects that are ideally supposed to develop out of their preexisting community involvements or commitments, so i give them this additional advice:

[note: if your thesis topic is in a social science-y discipline (or a humanities discipline that leans closer to the social sciences), you can probably use some of those ideas or prompts. if your thesis topic is more of a purely academic humanities-type topic (for instance, a literary studies thesis about a specific novel), not all of those will apply perfectly, but some will hopefully be useful still!]

here’s an example, again using my playfulness project. I’ll list the question and then below it, in italics, I’ll explain what ‘stirred up’ that question for me.

T2: What are some core preoccupations or big-picture questions I want to explore? What are some things I’ve noticed that I want to understand?

Core Question 1: Why are college classrooms so serious? Why is there so little playfulness in most college teaching? Why so little laughter, movement, fun?

Observing my friend’s kindergarten classes made me realize how much elementary educators rely on bright colors, movement, singing, playing imaginative games together, etc. to engage young learners’ imaginations, minds, and bodies. Why do we value that so much in elementary education, but stop considering it important in college classes? Do learners “age out” of a need for highly interactive, engaging learning? I suspect no... so that’s a hunch I can begin to follow. 

Observing other college courses (and drawing on my own experience as an undergrad and grad student) made me realize how much educators rely on the same standard methods of teaching (lecturing with a discussion section; a version of Socratic seminar discussion that is primarily led by the professor). To me, these methods are antithetical to playfulness and tend to quash people’s ability or desire to playfully experiment, try things out, risk failure, etc. I wonder if the actual methods we use to teach content or to structure our classes are producing ‘serious’ classes, whether or not we personally as instructors want that to happen. That’s another hunch I could follow...

I’m thinking of a possible connection here to my past research on the origins of English literature as a discipline (in 1920s-30s England). One of the things that scholars often emphasize is how hard faculty had to work to transform English into a serious, rigorous, ‘legitimate’ discipline, akin to the hard sciences. That’s something that I think we still see today in the way people anxiously defend the value of a humanities education. I’m curious about whether the need to justify our existence as a discipline/field of study influences our methods of teaching college students. Do we banish playfulness from the classroom because it threatens that image of the humanities as a serious, rigorous discipline? That’s yet another hunch I could follow... 

Core Question 2: I have a hunch that people learn better in playful environments. Is that true -- and if so, why? What is it about playfulness that enhances learning?

I’m a lifelong fangirl, and fandoms are creative environments where people are continually engaged in acts of imaginative play. I’ve observed and have experienced firsthand how these playful environments seem to encourage people to try new things, take creative risks, learn new skills even if they’re afraid they’ll be ‘bad’ at them, and commit huge amounts of time, energy, and passion to long-term creative projects that don’t make any money or ‘earn’ them a grade. I’m curious about how we might adapt the playful, passionate energy of fan spaces to college teaching.

In my own classrooms, I’ve noticed that students get so much more into the activity (and seem to internalize the content more deeply) when I frame it as an imaginative exercise, a roleplaying activity, or a game of some kind. Teaching the same content in a way that encourages playfulness seems to produce deeper engagement (and deeper learning?) than using the traditional methods of ‘serious’ teaching.

Core Question 3: Playfulness and shared laughter/fun seem to build social bonds (again, drawing on my experiences in fandom). Could shared imaginative play help students develop better social skills? Could it help build a sense of community in the classroom and strengthen students’ sense of belonging? This question feels especially urgent to me given the epidemic of self-reported loneliness, anxiety, and depression on college campuses. 

*

You can have lots more than 3 core questions/preoccupations! In fact, the more ideas you can generate at this stage the better. The idea isn’t to hone in on your research question (yet) but to generate as many possible paths you could take, so that you can begin evaluating which interest you most, or which seem like the most fruitful questions to explore/answer. Doing the idea-generating for Tier 2 should already begin to set you up for Tier 3 -- which involves articulating specific sub-questions you’ll need to answer to better understand or answer those core questions/preoccupations.

and then we’ll go ahead and fold in T4, as I tend to move back and forth between T3/T4 as I brainstorm.

I’ll just take one of my Tier 2 questions as an example, but again, you can/should do this for all of yours (or at least the ones that interest you most).

Core question: Playfulness and shared laughter/fun seem to build social bonds (again, drawing on my experiences in fandom). Could shared imaginative play help students develop better social skills? etc etc

T3 subquestions (with T4 “directions for inquiry” folded into the first one, so you can see an example):

-- SubQ1 Does play actually strengthen social bonds? If so, how? Are specific kinds of play better for this than others (ie, collaborative or cooperative play compared to competitive play)? With Tier 4 folded in:

Do a library database search to try to figure out where “play” research typically happens -- is it in psychology research? Neuroscience? Early childhood education?

Then begin searching for different keyword strings that might help me gather up initial sources. Some initial ideas: play + social bonding, play + social skills, play + social development, play + cooperation, play + friendship, play + mental health. (Typically finding a couple useful/relevant articles will help you generate better keywords -- as you can begin to see the kinds of terminology that researchers use to describe your topic.)

I could also maybe interview college students themselves, or design a survey - but that would depend on the type of research I want to do. Do I want to conduct my own original research study, or is my focus more on synthesizing existing research from different fields to construct an argument? 

Could I find faculty or researchers who work on these topics, who might be able to direct me to specific resources or help me understand what kind of work has already been done on this topic? Maybe I can’t find someone who specifically researches playfulness, but an educational researcher whose work focuses on social-emotional learning would probably have a pretty good understanding of what features or pedagogical choices help create positive, affirming learning environments.

-- SQ2: Are college students lonely?

Are they reporting (or do they experience) higher rates of mental illness? What are the numbers on this?

What are some of the prevalent theories or hypotheses about why this is? Could social isolation or difficulty forming friendships be a possible contributing factor?

-- SQ3: Why are social bonds good for us - physically, mentally, emotionally?

-- SQ4: Do social bonds enhance learning? If so, how?

What if I looked to other non-academic learning environments (such as fandoms, team sports or group activities, etc where people are learning new skills in highly social settings) to make a case for playfulness in the college classroom? This isn’t direct 1:1 proof that “more playfulness in college classrooms = happier, more socially well-connected students,” but offering detailed descriptions of how those learning environments are structured might spark ideas for my audience (university instructors and administrators) or persuade them that playfulness has an important social-emotional role to play in college learning.  

*

Typically what ends up happening is I produce a huge, messy document (or fill a giant paper or whiteboard if I’m doing it by hand) that has tons and tons of different directions I might follow. usually, the initial process of creating this giant brainstorming document sparks lots of ideas for where to begin researching. then, as i go off and begin reading articles, those articles typically help flesh out my understanding of the core questions or concepts i’m interested in, or my understanding of what kind of research on this topic already exists vs. where the gaps are that my own work might be able to fill. that initial source-gathering phase of research will also usually spark new questions and sub-questions, which get added to my tier map.

having some kind of messy brainstorming map/plan also helps me read in a more focused way. instead of just opening a random article and skimming it without any clear sense of what i’m looking for, i’m now opening articles and reading them with a purpose -- i’m looking for answers to the specific questions i’ve articulated. so i can skim in a more focused way, looking for specific keywords that seem relevant, and i can also take notes in a more focused way, noting down key ideas that

having a question in mind can also help me figure out more quickly if the article is relevant to my research questions or not. for instance, let’s say i open an article about how playing competitive games in high school PE classes improve students’ self-reported moods. if i didn’t know what i was reading for, i might spend a lot of time on this article, trying to figure out if it was relevant to my research (it has the keywords, right? so maybe it’s relevant?). but if i am reading with a specific question in mind (“Do collaborative learning games help strengthen students’ sense of social connection?”) I can tell pretty quickly that this article is not going to be that useful, since it focuses on competitive physical games (probably not something I’ll integrate into an English class). so I can say with some confidence, “I probably don’t need to read this whole thing, but maybe I’ll check out their lit review section or their bibliography to see if the authors cite any other work on play/playfulness that might be more relevant to my specific questions.” 

i think i’ve kinda started to answer your second question about notetaking here, too, so i will also say that in the early stages of a big research project, i am absolutely NOT taking detailed notes on any of the sources i find. my focus is much more on amassing a large pool of highly relevant sources that i know i’m going to want to go back to and read more deeply as my research questions come into sharper focus. this is because deep reading burns through a lot of time and energy, so i want to make sure i’m saving that deep reading energy for sources that are quite likely to be relevant to my project. 

to figure out if a source is relevant, I often skim the abstract and introduction to figure out the core questions the article or chapter is seeking to answer. then I ask myself three questions:

Are the core questions of this article the same as (or very similar to) my core questions or subquestions? If so, mark this citation as HIGHLY relevant - I’m going to want to come back and read this source carefully, to see if it’s already suggested answers to the questions I’m asking. 

Do the core questions of this article seem to resonate with my core questions, even if we’re not asking them in exactly the same way, or the author of this paper is applying them to a different field? If so, mark this citation as LIKELY relevant - it may not be a perfect 1:1 with my own questions, but that can sometimes spark exciting new ideas or ways of reframing my original questions. If not, toss it.

Do the questions this article is asking suggest new questions or lines of inquiry that I am interested in exploring? Sometimes an article will introduce me to a whole new area of research or a new array of questions I hadn’t even originally thought to explore. If that’s the case, I typically pencil those sub-questions into my brainstorming tier document and mark the source as LIKELY or HIGHLY relevant, depending on how excited i am about it. 

OK I WILL CLOSE HERE FOR NOW as I have to get back to work, but I will say that when I taught my students this method, they were very confused by the initial explanation of it, but then when they went back and used the models to work through the tier brainstorming activity for themselves, they seemed to find it really useful. so if you are scratching your head, try doing a quick TIER 1 - TIER 2 - TIER 3 - TIER 4 map for your own research question to see if doing it yourself helps clarify. also: if you can’t get further than tier 2, it’s usually a sign that you need to do some more reading and freewriting about the questions that you’re curious about, or the gaps you’ve noticed in the scholarship, or the threads you’d like to follow. but you can do some of that background reading in a more focused way now, using your initial big questions to help guide your selection of background readings & give you a sense of purpose as you read.

[cloudslou]

hi i really like reading about your thesis bc i'm also working on mine rn and i'm! so! lost! i wanna know if you have like a plan for writing yours? i'm also a humanities student so basically i just have to read a lot djkjf but i find it so hard to 😔 if your source is a book or a dissertation do you read it more than once? if you don't how do you choose your citations and stuff like that? do your write a summary for everything you read? i feel like i should but just reading has been really hard for me lately and i recently got a very demanding job so </3 yeah idk fkjdf also i'm sorry for this long ass message 😩

hi anon!!!

a) OMG good luck on your thesis!!!!!! wishing u all the best <333 lets get a support group going

b) reading so much IS hard, but i try to only read what i need. i dont write summaries for everything i read, though early on in the process my advisor did have me list all my sources and justify why i had them/their importance, but i've since gained more sources and havent done that on my own. you can mostly get the benefits of this just by thinking to yourself "how does this source help me? what will i need from it? am i likely to actually reference it in my thesis?"

c) if a source i have is really long (i.e. full book or someone's 300 page dissertation), i dont typically read the whole thing, but rather identify chapters or sections that i need and read those. for instance, one of my sources is Mothers of Invention: Women of the Slaveholding South in the American Civil War. my pdf is 343 pages, which is a lot to read if i'm only going to end up using a couple paragraphs. instead, i focused on chapter 7 specifically since that is what suits my needs. this chapter, at just over 20 pages, is a lot more manageable to read not only once but multiple times if i need to.

d) you dont have to become an expert on every book/article/etc you use as a source. i read things pretty fast and highlight what looks like something i'll need to refer back to, reading around it if i need context when i DO go back. but the highlight tool is my bestie cus i can scroll fast know when to stop on smth past me thought was important.

e) i dont know your thesis paper or what you study, but for history i am very much constructing a story around my evidence, so when i write something and need sources, i dont deep-drive into my sources, but rather just command+f to search for key words that i need (for example, the book i just posted abt in my tags. google books shows me about a 3 line preview of the pages i need based on my search of key terms, but those 3 lines are enough for me to justify writing a sentence in my thesis, and so then that book is now one of my sources).

f) i don't really have a "plan" for writing mine, but every week i meet with my advisor and i set goals for the next time i see her. over spring break, my goal was to get 2/4 analysis sections done (the sections where i am making my Own Original Historical Claims), and i did that! now my goal is to outline the following two sections and get this draft to her by tonight.

my advice is to list out your sections very clearly (even if you know what they are in theory, or you have to delete them when you are done). think about what your priority is (for me, its Making My Historical Claims) and focus on those. other things, like background info, introduction, etc are much easier to push though and the quality of those matters less.

also, focus on getting the words out rather than getting Good words out. think "what do i actually mean?" and try writing that, rather than thinking "here is my thought, how should i best put it into academic language". this might give you clunky sentences, things that dont sound good or need to be reworked, ideas that dont go together well or fully make sense yet, etc, but it gives you more to work with. and once you have the "bones" down, you can work on refining it.

pls dont read every source in its entirety. for history, i mostly need to read the introduction + conclusion, and then skimming inbetween (that is, if i dont just skip to what is relevant to me). i dont know what your discipline is like, so craft these rules to suit your thesis work.

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 5x10-- And the violence spread.

So, that’s it for season five. I’m still trying to sort out how I feel about the season as a whole and Wackner’s arc. I’m hopeful that writing this will help me decide.

This episode has a Previously, and it’s rather conventional. I’m guessing it’s here to bookend the season, with conveying information being only a secondary objective.  

Did we see Rivi scream, “You’re done, Wacko, you’re done! Canceled! Canceled!” in the last episode or is that new to this previously? I feel like I absolutely would’ve had things to say about a) Wackner being called “Wacko,” which has been RIGHT THERE this whole time, and b) the use of “Canceled,” which is a thing Rivi would never say but is VERY thematic (you know, cancel culture and also Wackner having a TV show and also this being a TV show that’s wrapping up* Wackner’s arc).

* The way things end this episode, I’d say we’re done with Wackner. The Kings have said they aren’t sure about the plan for season six, so never say never, but I think that if we see Wackner again, it will be as part of a different arc.  

I went back to 5x09 and while we do see the same shots of Rivi screaming, whatever he’s saying in 5x09 is in Spanish. So either he was saying this in Spanish or the dialogue here is totally new.  

I’m a little sad that I knew in advance Robert King had directed this episode, because I want to know how long it would’ve taken me to guess. I’d like to think this first shot, of Diane flopping down on her bed in a very pretty floral print dress, then Kurt flopping down in the opposite direction, would’ve given it away. We usually don’t get shots that are both striking and kinda balanced unless RK’s directing.  

This also has some big season three opener vibes—the scene where Diane turns to Kurt and says, “I’m happy,” thus jinxing the entire season.  

Diane and Kurt are about to go on vacation, which means, of course, that Diane and Kurt are definitely not about to go on vacation. I’ve watched 12 seasons of this show; I know all the tricks!  

If I didn’t get it from the initial staging of the opening shot, the camera panning to Diane and Kurt’s suitcases and then back would’ve been another clue that RK directed. He ALWAYS has the camera in motion.  

I love that Diane’s travel outfit is a dress you could wear to a fancy party and a statement necklace. Of course it is.

And if I needed evidence that RK and MK wrote this episode (which I didn’t; it is a finale so I knew they wrote it), Diane quoting Waiting for Godot is a clue there.  

I really should read Waiting for Godot, shouldn’t I?  

“Wow. Educated and a good lay,” Kurt responds. I know that the political stuff between Diane and Kurt can get more than a little murky, but banter like this reminds me why they stay together and why politics never drive them apart. Also, it’s really nice to see Diane and Kurt have some fun banter that isn’t about politics.  

And Diane making kissing noises and asking Kurt to meet her halfway! This just feels like I’m spying on someone’s private life and I love it. Not in a voyeuristic way, since this is actually a little uncomfortably private, but in a, “ah, yes, these do feel like real people” way. This is the kind of “a little goes a long way” character moment I always want more of, and Kings episodes ALWAYS include stuff like this.

And there it is. The phone rings as Diane and Kurt are about to start out for the airport. Diane thinks the call must be for Kurt, but it’s for her. It’s a very flustered Liz, informing her that STR Laurie’s execs are on their way to the office for a surprise visit.

If the Diane/Kurt scene didn’t tell me that Robert King directed, I almost certainly would’ve gotten it from the sudden cut to Liz, walking through the hallways and doing a million things at once with a ton of background noise. No one loves chaos the way Robert King loves chaos.  

This episode STRONGLY reminds me of the Wife season five finale. It is equally chaotic and also spins a ton of plates. But, mostly, the similarity I see between the two episodes is that they are both extremely fun and captivating to watch because of how much momentum they have, but everything just feels slightly hollow and not exactly focused on the thing you want to see.  

(Shout out to my friend Ryan, who messaged me the 5x22 comparison before I could message it to him!)  

I decided I should rewatch the first few minutes of 5x22. I am now 15 minutes into 5x22 of Wife and 2 minutes into 5x10 of Fight. Oops.  

Apparently, STR Laurie planned a surprise visit because they heard RL was dysfunctional. You don’t say!  

I felt like 5x09 concluded with STR Laurie being won over by Allegra and the RL team, so this is a bit of a surprising place to start the episode. But, since Diane seems surprised too, I’ll allow it.  

Now Liz and Diane have 90 minutes to agree on a financial plan! Kurt’s on the phone with the airline before Diane even hangs up with Liz.  

Diane is determined not to lose out on her vacation and asks Kurt to change the flight to 8:00. “Kurt, we are going on this vacation if it kills me!” is a line I would worry was foreshadowing on basically any other show.

The RL/STRL PowerPoint template is pretty ugly. They want to call 2021 their best year yet, thanks to the deal between Rivi and Plum Meadow Farms we saw last week. Even though we saw champagne and signatures, the deal isn’t done yet because Plum Meadow can back out if Rivi goes to jail.

RK also loves close-ups more than any other director on the show; I do not love close-ups.  

The Plum Meadow deal is such a big deal that for the quarter, they go from $45 million to $5 million without it. They should just not say numbers. I can believe it’s big enough to take them from a modest profit to being behind projections or whatever, but I can’t believe that they have $5 million in other business and $40 million on this one deal.  

It seems that Rivi was arrested. I don’t think it is ever said in this episode why. I assume the arrest relates to his behavior in Wackner’s court, since there were police officers there, and I suppose that Rivi is a big enough deal the police would actually take him to real court, but are we not going to address the weirdness of Rivi being arrested in a fake court where his employees are being tried, then taken to a real court by the same people who just an episode ago were disillusioned with real court? This seems like a plot point.

Carmen on a frantic phone call in the backseat of a car feels very 7x22.  

Who is James that Carmen has in her contacts!? And why does everyone always put Liz in their contacts as “Elizabeth Reddick” when everyone calls her Liz?  

Carmen calls Marissa to go argue in Vinetta’s court since she’s on Rivi duty. Carmen doesn’t take Marissa’s job in Wackner’s court seriously and then notes that this instruction is coming straight from Liz, so Marissa falls in line.  

Wackner’s case of the week is about rural Illinois wanting to form its own state separate from Chicago. There’s a farmer who feels like his tax money is only going to the big city and he wants it to stay in his community.  

They’ve just now added stage lighting to the set of Wackner Rules, dunno why they wouldn’t have done that earlier!

I don’t know what standing you’d have to have to bring a case about wanting to divide the state in two to court, or if this is even something a court would or should decide, but, sure, Wackner and Cord, go for it. There are no rules!  

This map splitting Illinois into two new states that Cord is holding is a dumb prop because Galena, where this farmer is from, is in the same section as Chicago. Do I pause every reference to Chicago on this show and then google information to see if the writers bothered to look it up or pretend they’ve ever set foot in Chicago? You know I do.

“Secession!” the audience screams. Does the audience of Wackner Rules really want to see this?

A Good Fight Short! And it really is short: “Stop this obsession with secession and breaking up the Union. It’s boring and it’s dumb, end of song.” I feel like that’s the thesis statement for this episode, or one of them (that this episode seems to have about ten thesis statements is kind of my problem with this episode, tbh). This episode is very much about danger of things becoming too fractured—the COTW, the copycat courts, the firm drama—and I feel like the writers come around to just saying no, this is enough, we need structure and consistency.

But more on that later. MUCH more on that later.

Marissa is swearing more because “the world has required it.” She notes this to Wackner as she calls him out on the secession case. Cord barges in.

Take a look at the employee of the month poster on the back of the door at 5:39. Then at 5:40, look at what’s in the box just to the right of the center of the screen: it’s an employee of the month poster with Wackner on it! Cute easter egg. (Would Marissa definitely notice this and have questions? Yes. Is this here as a cute easter egg for eagle-eyed fans? Almost certainly.)  

“Insane is just one step away from reality if you get people to believe, and you know what makes people believe? TV.” Cord explains when Marissa asks how they can possibly be litigating this case. That’s thesis statements two and three, folks. The first is that if you get people to believe, then anything is possible, which sounds like a tagline for a Disney movie but is actually super dangerous; the second is that reality TV is a way to persuade people and change opinions.  

So we’ve got: (1) Factions are bad. (2) People are persuadable and the rules don’t actually matter. (3) Reality TV changes minds. Let’s see if there are more.

(Yes, these theses do kind of add up to a whole—The rules don’t matter, so if you persuade people, through reality tv, you get factions of people believing their own sets of rules and facts—but what I'm interested in tracking throughout this episode is how well the writers actually bring these theses together.)

(And this is setting aside that key themes in previous episodes, that I think many of us were looking for resolution on, included outlining the flaws with the extant “real” justice system and exploring the role of prison in the justice system. From this episode, I don’t think the writers ever intended to really tackle either of those issues. That’s fine—I'm not sure that TGF has something to say about prison abolition and I don’t want a thought experiment where the writers actually try to fix the legal system—but feels a bit disjointed. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, but 5x08 and 5x09 needed to do a better, clearer job of setting up this finale. The key themes of Wackner’s arc were always present, but they needed to slowly narrow the scope so the resolution felt inevitable and clear. Instead, we spent time on things like parking spaces (when we could’ve had a real plot about how Wackner’s court gains legitimacy through violence, incarceration, and playing on people’s frustration with the real systems) and Del’s focus groups (when we could’ve instead done a plot about Wackner gaining fans who wanted to use his methods to do ill). Everything I just mentioned in the parentheticals is in the show! It’s not subtext! We see it all! We see Cord use violence and prisons to enforce Wackner’s rulings; we see the cops turn to Wackner out of frustration; we see that the people drawn to Wackner Rules and to Wackner’s court are increasingly sounding more and more like right-wing populists! I can’t be too hard on this arc because, again, all these ideas are there. I’m not coming up with them on my own!)

I’m just saying: this ending would’ve been a lot clearer and a lot more interesting had the writers focused on what I mentioned above instead of the distractions of the last two episodes.  

Whew, that was a ramble. Hope you’re ready for more rambles.

On a similar note, I’d like to reiterate my problems with how the writers used Marissa after the private prison reveal. I don’t have much more to say than what I wrote last week, but it’s another example of the same problem. Marissa objecting to Wackner’s court because she notices what it’s becoming and how Cord plans to use it for political gain (two Illinoises (??) changes the Senate and the Electoral College...) always was going to be part of the endgame. Marissa only seriously objecting after the fourth or fifth line Wackner crosses feels bizarre.  

Cord does NOT like that there is another court, and wants to protect Wackner’s IP. Wackner, as we saw last episode, does not feel threatened by the other court. In fact, he seems to be excited by it.  

I love Liz questioning Diane’s outfit like it’s unprofessional. It’s a little low-cut and showy, but I don’t think unprofessional is the word I’d use for it.  

Now they have 45 minutes to decide The Future Of The Firm and Diane wants to be considered a name partner. Oh, that debate is still raging?! Every time I think it’s done it comes back, which should probably be a sign to Diane that her options are to leave and start something new, jettison Madeline and the others, or step down. Staying on as name partner and calling it a black firm is just not an option.  

“Diane, there is a split in the firm that...” Liz starts, before asking some associates to leave the room. Ha! The reveal Liz and Diane aren’t alone is a pretty fun touch.

“The Black equity partners don’t want to be in your work group,” Liz informs Diane. “Because they think they’ll be punished by this firm?” Diane asks. “No, that’s paranoia. We don’t punish here,” Liz responds. “Of course you do. My fracking client. My union client. The Black lawyers who work on those cases—they're considered traitors” Diane says. “Because those CEOs are racists,” Liz counters.

Lots going on here, and I’m not sure I understand it all. Why would the equity partners—who are partners—feel like they’re being punished by being in Diane’s work group? (And also what does a “work group” mean and why haven’t they talked about it in the past?) When Diane starts talking about the lawyers who staff her clients, she’s not talking about equity partners; she is talking about associates.

And people are giving associates shit for working on Diane’s clients whom they happen to be staffed on!? That’s sad, though believable.

“So what do we do? Only bring in clients who can pass the racial smell test?” Diane asks. I mean, actually, yes. IF the goal is to be a black firm and to have that designation mean something in moral terms rather than marketing terms, then yes.  

“It’s okay if you’re a drug kingpin like Rivi, but it’s not okay if you want me as lead attorney?” Diane says. Also, yes. Diane makes good points here.  

“Diane, this is not about you,” Liz counters. Um, sure, but it has to be about something, Liz. Unless you’re trying to build a firm you don’t control that makes 88% of its revenue from a drug dealer (40 million out of 45 million this quarter = 88%; I told you they shouldn’t give me numbers) but happens to have black people in charge, you have to grapple with this question. I don’t think anyone who’s fighting for the firm to be a black-led (not owned, bc STRL) business is the type of person who thinks that having a black-led firm that does all the same shit as any other firm is in itself a good thing, so you NEED to address your client list. Madeline is anti-Rivi, anti-Cord, anti-Wolfe-Coleman (the rapist guy), pro-social justice, and pro having a black led firm.  

“I mean, why... why do white people personalize this?” Liz asks. “Oh, now I’m just a white person?” Diane responds. I... don’t know what to do with this! Liz is right that Diane is taking this personally; Diane is right that Liz needs to deal with the rest of the client list. But no one is saying the things that REALLY need to be said: That all their decisions are meaningless in the shadow of STRL, and that deciding to be a black led firm isn’t the end of the discussion if they haven’t decided what types of clients they want to have.  

“What happened, Liz? Last year we were intent on an all-female-run law firm,” Diane starts. Oh, THIS AGAIN! Diane never learns, does she? She never seems to realize that no one she’s approached with this idea is NEARLY as in love with it as she is. She probably still wonders to herself why Alicia—who partnered with her at the end of season seven basically just because it was the easiest, most frictionless thing to do—didn't seem more committed to their firm.  

“Diane, there is history here that we are trying to...” Liz says, but Diane cuts in to note that women (women like Diane Lockhart!) have history too! In fact, she’s spent “35 years fighting gender discrimination to get to this position.” “And we have spent 400 years fighting racial discrimination to try and, you know...” Liz starts, before cutting herself off to get back to the ticking clock.

Sigh. Just talk about the actual thing instead of talking around the thing, guys. Diane is obviously deserving of A name partnership, in the abstract. This is an undeniable fact. And while Diane is definitely making this about herself rather than the big picture, I don’t think Liz trying to trump Diane’s 35 year career with the history of black people is going to win her any arguments? Like, just say what you mean and say it clearly. What Liz, I think, wants to express is that Diane’s individual accomplishments aren’t the issue here and everyone thinks she’s deserving (though Liz suggested Diane was not deserving a few episodes ago, which I didn’t understand then and don’t understand now). The problem is that Diane is trying to fight a battle that’s about something much larger than herself with, “but I'm a good lawyer!”  

And that’s KIND OF what Liz is saying here, if I add all her sentences up and read between the lines, but, again, why not just say it?  

“Alright, now we have 43 minutes to fix race relations, gender relations. STR Laurie’s gonna fire our asses, and you know it,” Liz says. I am curious what that would look like. Wouldn’t that just mean that STRL wouldn’t control them anymore? I’m sure being fired would be bad and all, but wouldn’t it free them from the contract they wanted out of last year?  

“Let’s split the firm down the middle. I hire half the lawyers, you hire the other half,” Diane suggests. What does this mean? Why are you hiring your employees? Huh?

“You hire the white associates, and I hire the black associates?” Liz confirms. This seems like a very bad idea that would make things a lot worse and open them up to lawsuits! I also still do not know what they’re even talking about. And I don’t know why Allegra isn’t a part of this conversation.

“I’m not saying it’s good. I’m just saying it’s what we’re left with. It's what we can agree on,” Diane says. I really wish I understood what “hire” meant in this context because I don’t understand why they have to split anything or why this has to be done now and I don’t understand why this would possibly be a good solution. Can you imagine the backlash when people realize all the white people report to Diane and all the black people to Liz and that people were taken off of the accounts they’ve worked on for years to accomplish this? And this must be something that the employees would know about eventually; otherwise they could just randomly assign half to Liz and half to Diane.  

I’m sad Madeline isn’t in this episode because I feel like we needed to see more of her POV as well as the associate POV. I don’t really understand the divides at play within the firm or what the staff and other partners are asking for, but I suspect it isn’t this.

Hallucination Jesus is back, and at least there’s actually a point to him this time (he shows up when Jay is in Vinetta’s court and reminds Jay that Vinetta will rule based on her religious beliefs). I still dislike the hallucinations.

Jay advises Marissa, who is Jewish, to talk a lot about Jesus in her defense.  

Charmaine Bingwa is really great as Carmen, and obviously she is not fluent in Spanish, but it’s so funny to me that the only time you can hear that she’s Australian is when she’s trying to say Oscar like she’s speaking Spanish.  

"I know you’re hiding something when you speak English,” Rivi says to Carmen. Heh.  

“Community court” is such a nice, unthreatening term for referring to Wackner and his copy cats. Thanks for that, Carmen!

It’s a smart plan to mention Jesus a lot, I guess, but Jay and Marissa both should’ve realized that Vinetta is too smart to tolerate obvious pandering. I’m a little surprised Jay doesn’t get up and argue since Marissa is, obviously, not familiar with the New Testament.  

Marissa wins this round with facts and logic.

Why is the judge who was handling Rivi’s previous charge now in bond court? Make it make sense.

I like that Carmen calls out the ASA for swearing hahaha  

Why... would this Matteo kid just casually mention he was holding a gun, omg.  

In Vinetta’s court, you can be charged with murder and tried because... you had a gun and also there were murders at other times. Coolcoolcool no problems here.

Community courts for civil cases? Sure. That’s basically arbitration. Community courts for criminal cases? Bad, bad, bad idea.  

Vinetta’s reasoning: “Those murders happened on our street, and the police haven’t convicted anyone because they don’t care. We care. This is self-defense. And how is it different from your court?” Aside from the whole imprisoning people in her basement thing, Vinetta’s not wrong. I almost brought this up last week but hesitated because I couldn’t remember the details enough to decide if I wanted to recommend it, but there’s a book I read a few years ago that seems relevant here: Ghettoside by Jill Leovy. Again, been a while so don’t take this as a wholehearted endorsement or anything, but from what I remember, the central issue at the heart of the book (it’s non-fiction) is that a poor black community (I think in LA?) doesn’t trust the police (in part) because the police don’t solve murders, and then with no way of getting justice through the court system, there’s more violence as a stand-in for justice. https://www.vox.com/2016/8/26/12631962/ghettoside-jill-leovy-black-crime

I’m not sure if that’s QUITE what Vinetta is saying but it seems similar, and it’s a decent point (though not a justification for her court). Why should she trust the system to improve her community when it’s ignored her community for years?

I like that the writers chose two very different, very understandable characters for their community courts. It’s easy to see why Wackner and Vinetta feel the need for alternative courts; it’s easy to see why others would trust them. This arc doesn’t really work unless there’s a legitimate frustration with existing systems...  

Marissa calls Wackner’s court a “joke,” which she should understand by now isn’t the case. (Marissa’s smart; she knew it wasn’t a joke the second she saw David Cord get involved.)  

Vinetta accuses Wackner of copying her court, which alarms Marissa. This isn’t addressed again, and I don’t know if it’s true! I could really go either way on this. On the one hand, I absolutely believe that Wackner saw/heard about it, liked it, and did it himself without thinking much of it—and if this is the case, then the ending where Vinetta gets in trouble for violating Wackner’s IP is a lot more of a gut punch. On the other hand, I don’t really feel like the seeds for this were planted. We see Wackner innovate a lot and try new things and he has an explanation for why he does everything—how much of that is Vinetta? And Vinetta clearly watches the show and likes it or she wouldn’t have recognized Marissa, so it’s a little hard for me to just believe her claim when literally all I know about her is she has a court that looks like Wackner’s and she is aware of and feels positively towards Wackner rules. Also, Wackner knows about Vinetta’s court (from Marissa) and sounded excited about it last episode. Sure, he didn’t necessarily know which one it was, exactly, but I assume if he’d copied the idea and then heard about a case involving people from the exact same community where he found the idea... his reaction would be different. So IDK. My reasons for doubting Vinetta’s claim are probably based a little too much in things I’m not meant to spend that much time paying attention to.  

“I fucked up. It’s in the same court, but now it’s a murder case,” Marissa tells Diane. I do like hearing characters admit when they fucked up!  

Diane hears that STRL is delayed, so she heads out to help Matteo. When she goes to change into her pantsuit, she finds that she’s grabbed Kurt’s bag by mistake. “Of course. That makes sense,” she reacts.  

Diane pushes her flight to the next day, also telling Kurt, “And yes, for some reason, I took your suit instead of mine, so fuck it.” I love it when the characters feel like real people.  

I am not sure why Kurt is getting to the office when Diane is leaving or why Kurt is there—to pick Diane up on the way to the airport, maybe?

Carter Schmidt walks into RL at the worst possible time, threating to blow up the Plum Meadow deal. Another 5x10 to Wife 5x22 similarity: he’s in both episodes.  

Liz heads out to help Carmen with Rivi, and then STRL arrives. Oops.  

Credits!

One thing about Wackner’s court that should definitely be a warning sign even though it seems noble: he ignores just about every warning sign, like this rowdy crowd screaming WE LOVE YOU WACKNER or the potential interests at play in a case about secession, because he thinks his fair judgement can overcome these obstacles. If the world worked that way, there’d be no need for his court in the first place.

Is anyone representing the State of Illinois in this trial? If not, then... how is it happening?  

Dr. Goat, some dude who claims to have some hidden historical document about how Illinois is actually two states, is clearly making stuff up and yet Wackner indulges him and Cord. I feel about this the same way as I feel about the Devil’s Advocate: That Wackner would not allow this to go on for more than five seconds before calling bullshit and therefore there is no reason I should have to sit through it.

Why is some guy screaming, “No taxation without representation” like dude you absolutely have representation. But of course, I’m expecting him to be logical, and the point is that he is not.

Dr. Goat’s Latin phrases—shock!-- don’t actually translate into anything like what he said. Even though this information is verifiable by a quick google search, the crowd starts screaming “Liar!!!!” at Marissa. If only I could say this felt unrealistic.

Wackner asks Dr. Goat to bring in the document.  

“You look like you’re heading to the beach,” Vinetta says to Diane, who looks like she’s heading somewhere but definitely not to the beach. Vinetta asks where Diane was headed on vacation. Diane says she’s headed to Lake Como, and unnecessarily clarifies that “It’s in Italy.” She assumes Vinetta doesn’t know that... but Vinetta does.

“So you’ve been there before?” Vinetta probes when Diane says it’s beautiful there. “Just once. We don’t get away often. We thought we’d splurge,” Diane says. Vinetta stares at her and smiles, and Diane hits her head on a basket that’s hanging in Vinetta’s kitchen. If I just write out the dialogue here, it sounds like a perfectly average conversation, but everything about this conversation is so charged: Diane is afraid to look like a wealthy white woman; Vinetta’s pleasantness is pretty clearly also a way of sizing up Diane.  

Vinetta shows Diane pictures of neighborhood children and young adults killed as a consequence of gang violence. You can see she’s not trying to do anything other than help her community, even if her methods are highly questionable.

Diane argues that Matteo should be given over to the police; Vinetta disagrees: “The police haven’t arrested anyone for those murders, any of these. Since the BLM movement, they’ve pulled back from our streets. No one’s coming to help. That’s why I started this court. It’s not a joke to us.” Wait I’m sorry did Vinetta just blame lack of good detective work in black communities on... the BLM movement?!?!?! Is there any foundation to this!? Why can’t it just be that the police weren’t actually doing a good job of policing/finding justice and were being antagonistic towards the community instead of being helpful and no one trusted them?? That explanation is literally right there.

Jay suggests the Jesus strategy, again.  

“It’s women! We could just move on, install men,” STRL guy says. I don’t know if he’s joking, but ugh. Also, what is RL if it has neither Diane nor Liz? A bunch of lawyers who will all promptly quit when they see their bosses get fired and a few opportunists?  

Kurt is watching golf in Diane’s office, and the STRL people love it. Of course Kurt accidentally makes friends with them.  

Court stuff happens. It’s not good for Rivi, and then Liz and Carmen come up with a theory: Plum Meadow is stalling the deal so they can find Rivi’s more stable second and make a deal with them instead.  

Wackner giving Dr. Goat a single point on his stupid little board, for any reason related to his obviously fake totally unverified document, is dangerous. Why would you signal to a crowd that’s clearly not interested in fact that they have a point? That’s basically egging them on.

I know Wackner’s judgment is obviously not 100% sound—need I remind you of the PRIVATE PRISONS?-- but I thought it was more sound than this.  

Wackner shows off his knowledge of paper and proves that Dr. Goat’s document is a fake. Why... did he just give Dr. Goat a point???  

Or is he moving the point from Dr. Goat to Marissa?  

Dr. Goat sounds like a fake name I would call a character in my recaps long past the point of anyone other than myself remembering the joke. (See: Mr. Elk)

“The truth is ugly. The only thing uglier is not pursuing it,” Wackner tells Marissa. How is taking on a case about very obvious falsehoods, funded by someone with a vested interest in the case, that gets people riled up, some noble pursuit of truth?  

STRL and Kurt are now drinking and discussing hunting, while Diane’s arguing for Matteo in Vinetta’s living room. Vinetta is—as was always obvious, sorry Jay—far too smart to fall for this patronizing bullshit. She screams at Diane and plays back a recording (on a baby monitor) of Diane coaching Matteo to lie about his faith.

Soooooo yeah no you can’t do that, that is bad, recording conversations between lawyers and their clients is not good even if it leads to you exposing their schemes...

Then Vinetta places Diane under arrest, which obviously isn’t going to end well for Vinetta.  

Liz and Carmen suggest a post-nup to Rivi to see if Isabel is planning on turning on him.

“I’m going to have to kill her,” Rivi says sadly. I don’t think Rivi will ever kill Isabel because we already did that with Bishop.  

I’m going to assume that Diane chooses to stay in basement prison instead of calling one of the many, MANY, MANY people she could call to get her out/take down Vinetta because she doesn’t want the situation to be publicized or further deteriorate. That said, it’s really not clear why Diane just accepts being sentenced to basement prison with a cell phone.  

Love the STRL man looking at that picture of Diane and HRC. They’ve gotten so much mileage out of that photo.  

Wackner’s court has no rules, but at least since it has no rules, I can’t complain about how its rules make no sense!  

What is this, debate practice?! Ugggghhhhh I can’t deal with this case for much longer.  

Marissa takes a breath, then decides to pursue a strategy she knows could blow everything up.

“Then why care what Judge Wackner decides? Why should you defer to him? Why defer to anyone?” Cord says that’s the point—the people have decided to trust Wackner. “So if you don’t like this court’s decision, you’ll just start a new one?” Marissa asks. “I guess,” Cord concedes.  

“So then why does this matter? This court?” “It matters only insofar as we continue to agree that it matters,” Cord says. “So if you don’t like Judge Wackner’s rulings, you can just ignore them and create a new court?”

Good point, Marissa. Good point. (Does this count as a thesis?)

“I’m guessing that I will like the way the judge decides,” Cord says. Well, that’s basically a threat.

Wackner takes a break and heads to chambers—without Marissa.  

Kurt goes to visit Diane in basement jail. He’s granted a conjugal visit, which means Matteo gets moved up to the bedroom so Diane and Kurt can have some alone time.

Diane is staring at an image of Lake Como in her cell. I thought it was odd she brought a printout of her vacation destination with her, so I LOVED the line where she explains that Vinetta printed it out for her. COLD. (You know who also would’ve done this if they’d for some reason had a basement prison? Bree Van de Kamp. You know what show DID do a basement prison arc I’d rather forget? Desperate Housewives!)  

I love how Diane responds to basement prison by making jokes non-stop.

“I thought the craziness would end with 2020,” Diane says. Nope.

Kurt brought alcohol; Diane brought pot gummies.  

I love that Kurt has never had pot before. I was going to say that I bet Diane’s had a few experiences with recreational drugs when I remembered we had a whole damn season of Diane microdosing.  

Christine and Gary’s acting and their chemistry really bring these basement prison scenes to life. The writing and directing are really sharp, but it’s the actors who make these scenes something special. You can tell Diane and Kurt love each other a lot. You can tell they’re disappointed about their vacation and exhausted by the chaos of the day. You can tell they’re in disbelief over this situation but also find it funny.  

Didn’t Rivi and Isabel have an adult daughter who died of COVID a few episodes ago? Weird she isn’t mentioned in this scene. Maybe from a different marriage/relationship?

Isabel called the SA’s office because she thinks Rivi’s a threat? I think this is a power play.

Heh, Carmen saying, “Shut a black woman up!?” in disbelief in court. Love it.  

Isabel instead flips her story and supports her husband and fights for his release. With no intervention from Plum Meadow, this gets the judge to free Rivi. I don’t really understand what’s happened here or why. I get the resolution, but I don’t get why Isabel called the SA or why this went away so quickly. I still don’t even get why Rivi’s been arrested.

Diane and Kurt put up Christmas lights for ambiance and talk about how they never go on vacation.

“I wanna see the pyramids on this coast!” drunk & high Kurt insists, hilariously. “I mean hemisphere. I like the Aztecs. They, they care about people.” I’m not going to transcribe the rest of the dialogue because it loses its magic when you’re not watching the scene.  

After some fun banter about travel and movies, Diane changes the topic. “I should quit, shouldn’t I? That judge upstairs? She looked at me like I was the most entitled white bitch on the planet. And that’s the way they look at me at work.”

Kurt tries to say that’s not true, but Diane knows it is: “Yes they do. I’m the top Karen. And why do I care? I mean, I... I could find another firm. I could quit. I can’t impose my will on people who don’t want me.”

YES. I see a lot of debate over what the “right” thing to do is here. But I think we are long past “right” and “wrong.” At a certain point, this stops being about absolute moral truths. If Diane doesn’t have the respect of her partners and employees, that is a very real problem for the firm and for Diane. How can she continue to impose her will on a firm that doesn’t want her, all the while claiming to be an ally? (The back half of that sentence is the most important part.) Forget whether or not Diane “should” have to step down. Forget what’s “fair.” If the non-Diane leadership of RL thinks the firm should be a black firm, and the employees of RL think so too, and Diane just doubles down on her white feminism, she’s creating an even bigger problem for herself and ruining her reputation in the process.  

Kurt stands up on the prison cot and warns Diane she might make a decision she’ll regret. This scene is so cute. Why can’t other shows do drug trips where the characters just act silly and have great chemistry? Why does it always have to be some profound meditation on death whenever characters get high?

“I think I like starting over. I like the chutes and ladders of life. I mean, I want the corner office, but then I wanna slip back to the beginning and fight for the corner office. I mean, I think maybe it’s better that I don’t get the top spot,” Diane says. LOVE to hear her admit this. I’m not sure I would’ve come to this conclusion on my own, and it sounds like it’s a bit more about how the writers like to write (you know, the “we love our characters to always be underdogs”) than Diane, but... you know what? I believe it. I fully believe it. Diane LOVES to fight, LOVES to feel like she’s in the right, LOVES power plays and to be making progress. She LOVES winning. The fact that she isn’t just choosing to retire right now, even though she’s past retirement age and has a great reputation, is in itself enough for me to believe that she would find it fun to repeatedly start over.

Plus, it’s a fun new direction for the show to take in season six, because they’ll get the same sense of conflict without the actual conflict. This season’s arc was firm drama and resulted in a firm name change... but it didn’t feel like a knock-off of Hitting the Fan. Diane trying to work her way back into power (I assume by becoming a better actual ally, otherwise doesn’t she just end up in the same exact situation?) should also provide conflict without being repetitive.

Hahahahahaha Kurt immediately reacting to this serious statement by being incredibly silly and horny and then Diane singing “I Touch Myself” to him, man, I love these two. I want to know the story behind this song choice.

Wackner emerges from his chambers. The score is tied. Wackner calls Cord corrupt and notes that they can’t just decide to call Downstate Illinois a new state based on his ruling. Now it’s thesis time!

“I was taken by Mr. Cord’s arguments of individualism. So much of our country has been built on people finding their own way, not being held back by bureaucracy. Yet, if we only follow individualism, that way lies chaos. And that was not the point of this court. Or at least not my point. Judgment for the defense. There will be no Downstate Illinois.”

“If we only follow individualism, that way lies chaos.” is probably the clearest of the many theses of this episode. To recap, we have:

(1) Factions are bad. (2) People are persuadable and the rules don’t actually matter. (3) Reality TV changes minds. (4) Institutions only exist when we collectively agree they exist (5) Individualism = chaos.  

But let’s put a pin in this for now and let the chaos of individualism play out.  

The crowd does not like Wackner’s decision, and decides that an appropriate way to express their displeasure is to make anti-Semitic remarks towards Marissa and then start throwing chairs. What nice people.  

As the crowd goes totally 1/6 on Wackner’s court (thanks for pointing this out to me, Ryan—I cannot believe I didn’t make the connection myself!), the door slamming into the desk finally pays off since Marissa and Wackner are able to use it to keep the crowd from reaching them.  

They immediately turn to the police, or they would, if they could get service. I’m sure it’s not a coincidence that as soon as things get bad, they want to involve the existing system.  

Wackner Rules is, somehow, still taping in the midst of all the chaos. I don’t know if I think they’d air this, but someone certainly would. (I wonder if any of the cameras we see in these scenes are actually the cameras filming the other angles of the riot.)  

Cord shakes his head and walks out, unharmed.  

“You think they’ll kill us?” “I think they might,” Marissa and Wackner fret.  

“My dad said the whole world would be a better place if everybody realized they were in the minority. ‘No matter where you are,’ he said, ‘Make sure you keep an eye on the exits, and make sure you’re closer to the exit than the Cossacks are to the entrance.’” Marissa says. Love Eli Gold coming through with thesis number 6 (and maybe thesis number 7).  

“Your dad sounds a little paranoid,” Wackner says, correctly. Remember how I mentioned I accidentally wound up watching 5x22? Eli calls Alicia and responds to her hello with, “DISASTER!!!!” I miss him.

“He was, but he wasn’t wrong. He said, ‘Stay away from parades. They’re cute until they’re not. And don’t trust any pope who was Hitler Youth.” “What’s that law called?” “Godwin’s Law. My dad said anybody who argued for Godwin’s Law has never been near an actual crowd. Crowds love you, they hug you. Then they grab a gun and try to kill you.”

“Why? Why do they do that?” “I don’t know. Hate is fun. It’s clear-cut.”  

I really like all of this. It is a little preachy, but it isn’t wrong and it’s self-aware. And, more importantly, it’s in character. I absolutely believe that Marissa would tell lots of stories about Eli in a moment of extreme stress. It’s nostalgic, probably comforting, and it also helps her feel like she’s on the right side with the right arguments. So, even backed into a corner, she’s still a winner: she has theory on her side.  

Wackner speaks a foreign language (I do not know what language but I wish I did) and says, “A guy could get killed doing this,” which makes him and Marissa laugh as things crash around them.

Idk about you all, but I couldn’t really get myself to actually worry about their safety during this scene. Maybe Wackner’s, just a little, but I got the sense we were supposed to focus more on the chaos and destruction and monologuing than on the actual danger. That’s not to say the stakes didn’t feel high, but rather to say that this didn’t feel like an action sequence where you don’t know what’s going to happen next. The point was to watch the court fall and think about why it fell, not to worry about if Marissa would live.  

Diane and Kurt are woken up by sirens and loud noises. The cops arrive and are shocked to find professionally dressed white people in a basement cell. They let Diane and Kurt out with compassion, but scream, “don’t you fucking move” to the people on the floor.

“It’s okay, they didn’t do anything,” Diane says. This is, as I theorized earlier, probably why Diane just sits there until her punishment blows over instead of escalating things.  

If the cops weren’t there to free Diane, why were they there? Why, because they like David Cord and David Cord has gotten Chicago PD officers to protect Wackner’s IP.  

If I had to say one thing in favor of Vinetta being the originator of the community court idea, it would be that it’s SUCH a gut punch to watch Diane and Kurt walk away from their bizarre little adventure as Vinetta gets arrested in the background, and it hits ten times as hard if Vinetta’s only being charged because some white guy is claiming IP that’s actually hers.

(I think Vinetta is probably, at this point, actually being arrested for imprisoning people illegally, but, still.)

“Pfft. Some judge,” one of the cops who adores Wackner says of Vinetta. Racist much?  

Marissa and Wackner emerge from the backroom. “I think I better get back to work,” she says, meaning her RL job. "Me too,” Wackner says, grabbing a Copy Coop apron. He’s an employee of ten years.  

I don’t think this lands as well as it’s meant to. I think the point is supposed to be that Wackner’s just some guy—not a billionaire, not an academic, not a judge, not a lawyer—with an idea. But it’s a little too neat. And it doesn’t explain how Wackner financed his court initially, nor does it explain why he has basically unlimited access to Copy Coop space and resources. I’d buy it if he were the OWNER of Copy Coop, but I have so many questions about him being an employee.  

Diane tells Liz she’s actually going on vacation this time, and they laugh about how Kurt bonded with STRL.

“I want you and Allegra to be name partners. I’ll be an equity partner,” Diane says. “Why?” Liz asks. “Five years ago, when I hit rock bottom, this firm took me in. So I don’t like the idea of splitting this firm in two. And I can’t lead if no one will follow.” “And your clients?” “We’ll manage them together.” YES! I love this. I don’t love it because I necessarily think it had to go this way, but because it’s so refreshing to see Diane say that she actually is willing to take a step back because she cares about the firm and the people there more than she cares about being a name partner. This isn’t something we usually see. When we hear “this firm took x in” it’s usually being said incredulously against someone who’s decided to leave and steal clients (cough, Hitting the Fan, cough).  

It’s been pretty clear for most of this arc that Diane and Liz like working together and they like their firm, but that no one (other than Diane, I guess) is willing to let RL lose its status as a black firm, and that the employees and equity partners weren’t going to be satisfied until Diane stepped down. Diane really had three options: Stay and piss everyone off and claim the whole firm for herself, quit and go somewhere else and totally abandon the good working dynamic she had, or step down and put her money where her mouth is.  

Also yeah the clients were never actually going to be an issue! They were only an issue because Diane intentionally went about informing them she was stepping down in a way she knew would make them worry!  

“I think I need to prove myself,” Diane says. I’m not sure that’s the key issue or that she can ever prove herself fully, but we’ll worry about that next year.

“I missed you,” Liz says. “I’m here,” Diane replies. “I know. Thank you,” Liz says.  

Diane decides she’s going to move downstairs so Allegra can have her office. I think there’s another office on this floor, since she, Adrian and Liz all had offices. This feels a little bit like Diane’s in love with the idea of making things difficult for herself and maybe hasn’t fully grasped the point, but, you know, I’ll take it.  

Diane tells Kurt her decision and he asks if it was the right thing to do. She says she doesn’t know—but she says it with a smile. Kurt notes he’s going hunting next month with the STRL folks and will put in a good word for her. Ah, yes, because STRL still controls all of this and all of this is moot! Thanks for the reminder Kurt! Diane says she wants in on the hunting trip. Of course.  

And the elevator doors close. Remember how closing elevator doors was a motif earlier this season??? It’s back!

Then we get a little coda with Wackner Rules airing a new episode that’s just violence and destruction. This sequence seems to straddle the line between being there for thematic reasons for the viewers and there to show what happened in the show’s universe, but I think it’s main purpose is theme, so I will not go on a full rant questioning why Del would want to air this.

A white blonde lady in an apron watches the destruction of Wackner Rules. She looks concerned. “That was violet,” she says with dismay. And then we see she’s holding a guy in a jail cell in her kitchen.  

And then we see other courts, as America the Beautiful plays. One’s in a garage debating kicking someone out of the neighborhood; another is across the street about the same case. There’s one in Oregon about secession. There’s one among Tiki Torch Nazis deciding only white people can own property. There’s (inexplicably) one about pronouns. There’s one with arm wrestling, one that happens while sky diving, and a bunch of others. It’s pretty ridiculous, and not necessarily in a good way. It feels at once like the natural extension of the Wackner Rules show and like an over the top parody you’d see on another show. Tiki Torch Nazis screaming “only white people can own property!” is the opposite of subtle writing. Tonally, this sequence feels more like the zany humor of Desperate Housewives or the insanity of BrainDead than anything TGF has done before (and TGF’s been plenty surreal), and it doesn’t quite work for me. It feels like it is trying to prove a point in the corniest, most on the nose way possible. It almost feels like it’s parodying its own plotlines.  

On my first watch, this ending for Wackner left me stumped. I knew the writers were making an argument against individualism (Wackner’s speech + the repeated references to The Apprentice) and cults of personality. But I couldn’t figure out a real life analogue to Wackner’s court, and since this ending was so obviously trying to be About Something, that bugged me. Sure, that last sequence could be an argument against people making community courts, but WERE people making community courts? I didn’t see the urgency.

And then I talked to @mimeparadox. And as soon as he said that it was about factions and people playing by their own sets of rules beyond the justice system, it clicked. I’d been looking for Wackner’s plot to be a commentary on the legal system. It is much broader than that. It’s a commentary on the weakening of democratic systems (the Big Lie, etc.), more broadly, and Wackner and his common-sense approach are just a way to get liberal viewers to go along for the ride.  

Now that I understand the point, or what I think is the point, I like this conclusion. Circumventing the system leads to chaos; that’s why we have institutions and bureaucracy, and I think the show is arguing that these institutions should still be respected despite their flaws. The many theses of this episode all come together to make this point (though the reality TV stuff is a little more tenuous and I'm a little shocked we got through all of this without any commentary on social media?): If we stop having a shared belief in institutions and instead follow individual leaders (whom we may learn about through reality TV), the rules will stop mattering and we’ll end up with a fractured country and widespread violence.  

But, and maybe this is just about me being upset I missed both the obvious 1/6 parallels AND the point of the arc the first time through this episode (my defensive side feels the need to also note I first watched this episode at like 5 am when I was barely awake), I don’t know that I actually think this episode does a great job of driving its point home. There are SO many moving pieces to the Wackner plot and SO many references. There are so many threads we never return to from earlier in the season, and there’s so much that strains credulity (like Wackner taking Dr. Goat seriously for more than a split second). It’s pretty clear what the themes are—even though I’m saying I missed the point my first time through, I've hit on all these themes separately in past recaps and posts—but, I dunno, something about this episode just feels scattered. Maybe it’s all the moving pieces, maybe it’s all the moments where it sounds like the characters are voicing related ideas that don’t quite snap together to form one coherent picture, or maybe it’s that Wackner’s plot gets two endings (the actual ending + the coda) and it’s up to the viewer to put together how they relate.

I really don’t know. At the end of the day, I think there was a little too much going on with Wackner and that the writers needed to use the episodes between the private prison reveal and the finale to narrow—not broaden—the scope of what they were trying to do with Wackner. But I also think that what they were doing with Wackner was really, really smart and original. I don’t think I can overstate how impressed I am that the writers took an idea that sounded, frankly, awful when I first heard about it and turned it into something captivating and insightful that I was happy to spend nine weeks watching.  

Overall, a few bad episodes aside, I thought season five was the strongest season of TGF yet. I haven’t seen this show be so focused in... well, maybe ever. Having two overarching plots that received consistent development and felt like they were happening in the same universe at the same time REALLY helps make season five feel like a coherent whole, and I can’t wait to rewatch it.  

[etherrealoblivion]

Chapter Four: Supper

Table Of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1,748

MASTERLIST

~

A sudden loud beep had you shooting upright in bed. You leapt up and put your ear to the door. Rather than sinister noises, you heard the faint humming of a very familiar theme song.

You cracked open the bedroom door, peeking into the kitchen where Spencer was bustling around with a frying pan and a spatula with a focused expression on his face, humming the theme music to Doctor Who under his breath.

It was actually kind of adorable. You pushed open the bedroom door further to get a better look, but the door creaked and Spencer spun around, withdrawing his gun and pointing it square in your face.

“I’m sorry!” you squealed, throwing your hands up in surrender.

He quickly holstered his gun and ran over to you. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” you tried to laugh. “A little shaken but I’m okay. Really!” you added after a doubtful look from him.

His eyes were a deep hazel that seemed to peer into your soul. His hands felt good on your shoulders, clutching you tightly in comfort. It had been a while since you’d had, well, any physical contact. He was so tall he had to lean down to level his face with yours.

Suddenly, he seemed to realize how close the two of you were and stepped back, clearing his throat. 

“I was, uh, trying to make dinner.”

“I can see that,” you said playfully, with a glance at the kitchen in disarray.

“Yeah. I’m not the best cook. I can memorize thousands of recipes in minutes but i’ve never seemed to master the execution.”

You hesitated. 

“Thousands of recipes in minutes? What are you a genius?” you laughed.

“Scientifically, yes. An I.Q. score over 160 classifies someone as a genius.”

Your jaw dropped.

“You’re kidding?”

He shook his head, slipping his hands into his pockets and shrugging.

“Nope.”

“Wait so you can read like, a thousand words per minute?”

“Twenty-thousand,” he corrected, stepping back into the kitchen to continue cooking.

“Twenty-thousand!? That’s impossible!”

“Actually, the unconscious brain can process up to eleven million bits of information per second. It’s just a matter of being able to—“

“—to access the information from your subconscious,” you said, cutting him off. “Wow. That’s impressive.”

He looked at you in shock.

“What’s even more impressive is that you finished a sentence for me.”

“Sorry,” you blushed.

“No! No, I mean, not a lot of people can, erm, keep up. When you start college at fourteen, not many people expect you to be smarter than them. Then when they find out how smart you really are, it can be intimidating.”

Your mouth twitched up into a smile. Spencer was impressive, for sure, but he was also entertaining. Not in a make-fun-of kind of way, but he made you laugh. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. 

“Supper’s ready!”

You stifled a laugh.

“Supper?”

“What?” he looked over at you, reaching up to get two plates.

“Who says supper? Are you eighty?” you teased. 

“I’m twenty-six!” he said indignantly.

You froze.

“Wait, really?” He nodded. “You’re only twenty-six and you’re a prominent FBI agent? How?”

“Genius I.Q, three Ph.D.’s, and my irresistible charm,” he said, giving a goofy smile.

“Three PhDs? How? I’m getting a PhD and I can barely keep up with the workload!”

“You‘re getting a Ph.D.? That wasn’t in your police report. What’s it in?” he asked as he filled your plates. 

“Actually, I’m working on two.”

“Two!?”

You nodded, happy that you’d been able to shock him.

“Yep. Linguistics and Philosophy. I like Philosophy better but Linguistics is more challenging. The library won't let you into the section with the really good language books without a certain clearance. But I've actually nearly finished my thesis for it. What?” you added, noticing him staring at you.

“You’re working on two doctorates simultaneously?”

“Surprised you’re not the only genius?” you joked, taking your plate from him, then, upon seeing what he’d made, bursting out into laughter. 

“What?” he looked genuinely confused, which only made you laugh harder.

“Bacon?” you said through gasps. “Bacon and pancakes? You are aware it’s—“ you glanced at the clock, “—nine forty at night?”

“Gimme a break!” he said defensively. “It’s the only thing I can cook. The word ‘cook‘ being a generous descriptor.” 

It was better than Doritos and bourbon for dinner, your go to meal. You were just glad you’d had the stuff to make dinner. It would be very awkward trying to explain your unhealthy eating habits to Spencer.

You didn’t have a dining table. Anyway, you usually ate on the couch and watched something on TV. That was normal nowadays right? Whatever. Spencer didn’t seem to mind which was good enough for you.

“So, um,” he said nervously, pulling out a pad of paper and pencil. “There’s a few things I need to go over with you.”

You nodded, remembering the situation you were in.

“Is there anyone you can think of who might have shown a sort of stalking behavior before? They’d be unreliable, constantly late, not being able to stick to a schedule?”

“The only person I know like that is Claire, one of my co-workers, but she’s not a stalker, she's just always late to work. Honestly, the only people I really know are my co-workers, some people from school, and Steve, my friend.”

“The FBI is going to need a list of people you see frequently. If you could put that together as soon as you’re ready. Also, all your credit card information will have to be analyzed, everywhere it’s been used. Whoever accesses your card, even for something as small as a stick of gum, has the opportunity to use that information to find your name, your address, your workplace—”

“Ok. I get it. People I see frequently and my credit card info. Gotta warn you, there’s not much I buy with it other than books and coffee. Then again, there’s the occasional splurge at the mall.”

“Well, the FBI needs all of it.”

You nodded softly, staring at the bacon on your plate. He hadn’t said I need he’d said The FBI needs. You weren’t sure what that meant exactly.

“Do you want to watch something?” he said, gesturing toward the TV. “It might be a good distraction?”

“Yeah,” you put your plate on the coffee table, noticing that you’d barely eaten. “Yeah that sounds good. Could you just put something on? I don’t wanna choose.”

He nodded and picked up the remote.

The only thing he really knew you liked was Doctor Who so he put on a random episode. You let the TV become background noise to your thoughts as you stared off into space.

Spencer was comforting to be around. He helped take your mind off the situation you were in. You looked over at him on the couch, long legs crossed under him. He had taken off his tie and shoes and changed into more casual clothes: a jumper and some jeans. He was absentmindedly fiddling with the throw blanket between you on the couch. 

His hands are so long, you thought. Wait, why were you thinking that? You shouldn’t be thinking about his hands. Or how long they were. Or what they could—

“Are you alright?”

You felt yourself twitch, startled by his sudden acknowledgment. Even more embarrassing, you were sure he’d seen you staring at his hands.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Hey,” he moved closer on the couch, “you don’t have to be sorry. It’s alright to not be okay.”

They were just words, they didn’t help. What did help was the care behind them. He wasn’t just saying it to comfort you, he actually meant it. To him, it really was ok to not be okay.

“Thank you Spencer, that actually helps.”

You glanced at the clock. It was 10:26.

“I should do some schoolwork,” you said, cringing afterward. You didn’t want him to think of you as some school kid.

“Okay!” he chirped happily, standing as you stood like a proper gentleman. “I’ll just be out here. Is it okay if I keep watching?” The episode played on, The Doctor dangling from a rope above London. “I really like this episode,” he said sheepishly.

“Sure,” you chuckled. “I’ll be in my room and please let me know if you need anything, seriously.”

He nodded assent, but you weren’t sure if he actually would. He seemed a little withdrawn, comforting you when you needed but keeping his distance when possible. It’s his job to keep you safe, you reminded yourself. Don’t get excited.

An hour later your eyes watered from the strain of keeping them open. But you were almost done with this paper. Sure, it was due next week but you were on a roll. Using an allusion to the Holocaust to support the point that Hollywood writing is riddled with antisemitism. In the morning, it might not sound as clever, but to your sleep-deprived brain, it was poetry.

A light knock on your door startled you.

“Come in,” you croaked.

Spencer peeked into your room, squinting.

“It’s pitch black in here,” he said, reaching for the light.

You shrieked as the light filled the room, blinding you.

“TOO BRIGHT!” you yelled, slamming your computer shut and throwing your arms over your eyes.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he fumbled with the switch and clicked it off. The room was now shrouded in darkness, neither of you able to see yet.

“Are you there, Spencer?”

“Yeah.”

You were both whispering. Why was it that people whispered in the dark? 

“You should try and get some sleep,” Spencer said. He was becoming more visible as your eyes adjusted to the light. He had changed into a blue set of pajamas. The fabric looked so soft.

“Yeah,” you muttered, moving toward the bed, “Yeah, I’ll do that.” 

Your bed felt scratchy and cold. Just last night getting in bed had been such a relaxing experience. So much had changed in a day.

“I’ll be right in the next room if you need anything,” 

“Hmm,” you hummed.

Spencer padded back out of your room.

The moment before the door closed you thought you heard a very faint, “Good night, Y/N.” But before you could wonder if it had happened or not, you were dropping off into a deep sleep. Knowing that you were safe with Spencer in the next room.

~

Taglist: @aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @fanficsrmylife @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life @thatsonezesty13

[touchmycoat]

I LOVE YOUR PORN AU!!!!! LIKE SO MUCH - and i'm just. if you don't mind me asking, how - the way you flesh out the characters, their motivations, and feelings in every scene in such an eloquent way, and just little things here and there, a habit or an activity that adds dimension to who they are, and - your prose is wonderful. you achieve this addictive, engrossing narrative space that readers just absolutely melt into, and i have to ask - how did you develop your writing style? 1/2

what books did you read that formatively shaped the way you write? or you know, what did you do to improve your writing? i'm so in awe of how you world-built and established the porn au - like lqg & hc being national taolu champions?? how do you come up with that stuff? i cannot comprehend the amount of research and effort that must've gone into porn au, and i'm just so deeply thankful that you decided to share that with us. i apologize if i'm coming on too strong, but wow. thank you 2/2

--

oh my god please don't apologize, when i saw your ask i rolled on the floor giggling hysterically for a solid 15 min, bless your heart

part of the answer to your question—i've taken like, 8 years' worth of creative writing classes/workshops! there was also a transnational literary component to my degree so whenever possible, i took literature classes fksjdfksd so whatever you see and like is definitely the result of a lot of work. My writing from not even 10 years ago but like, 5? horrid, ridiculous, wild, cringe. The Porn AU itself is the second draft of a MUCH more lackluster piece.

about my writing style. gosh, you really know how to make a writer blush. "I like your writing style" is literally an instant kill LMFAO okay okay, the useful answer: my primary criteria for choosing what to write is, don't be obvious, be interesting. Fiction tells us to show, not tell, right? Poetry is about concretizing the abstract. Screenwriting says cut all useless lines. A lot of writing rules and advice—never start with the weather, avoid detailed descriptions of the characters, don't use adverbs, etc.—are all really about this exact sentiment.

I once took a seminar on writing for horror movies. The golden rule of the horror genre is Never Show the Monster, because whatever the audience is imagining is always going to be scarier than what you actually show them. There are obviously exceptions to this (to all writing rules), but in my mind, it's all the same principle.

LONG answer under the cut

So you start with building a scene. I approach it like essay-writing—I state my thesis for the motivations/main propulsion of the plot. "In this scene, LQG and SY are motivated to save Cang Qiong's porn production, so they have sex on camera." Then you build the sub-motivations: "LQG is also doing this because he's pining after SY."

I learned this "thesis-writing" from theater, specifically from writing 10-min plays. Theater is all about characters being driven by their wants and needs, and the reason I say 10-min plays in particular is because longer forms of writing will give you more leeway, but in 10-min, you pretty much need your character motivations established from their very first line. That's why you need that very clear thesis for yourself—if you don't even know what the character wants from the get-go, then you can't establish who they are, what they want, and where they're going to go in a dynamic and interesting way.

So this thesis drives EVERYTHING that happens in your scene, just like an actual thesis for an essay, just like topic sentences for your paragraphs. Once I do this, I have the emotional direction & narrative scope of how much this scene will cover, I have a sense of where it begins and ends. "Begin with the dynamics of their sex. LQG starts showing signs of his feelings. Reveal LQG backstory for exactly what those feelings are and why he isn't telling SY. The rest of the scene implies that LQG's feelings may not be so unrequited, but also sets up the fundamental problem at the heart of the whole fic—SY's inability to comprehend his own feelings." This is kind of my new thesis now. They're having sex; LQG pines; SY doesn't know he himself is pining.

Now it's time to manifest. This is the "storytelling" part, and the hardest lmfao.

Personally, my approach is largely shaped by my very cool screenwriting teacher, who hammered into us: don't fucking waste lines. The Golden Rule of screenwriting is that every line should reveal something new. I found my old writing kind of repetitive, especially on the emotional front, so this is kind of my editing mantra now—is this line either propelling the story or revealing character? If it's revealing character, is it a revelation that has to happen right now, or is it slowing the momentum of the scene?

But these aren't rhetorical questions! "Momentum" doesn't just mean tumble forward as fast as you can, it also means taking the time to draw the bowstring back further, so your next move has even more propulsion. That's why you get the little "LQG has been in love with SY..." cut scene in the middle of the fucking (at least, that's my reasoning for putting it there). Every line has to bring a fresh revelation that "proves" your thesis further.

That brings me to the details. You said you like the details I inject into the world-building, and honestly that's so gratifying to hear, because that means I'm successfully manifesting my intentions, y'know? "Every line has to bring new info" kind of sounds like a tall order, but the most effective way I've seen it done in books and onstage/onscreen is with these hyper-specific details. If you're writing a scene in which someone feels dirty, never have them just say that—have them say they want to take a shower. Show them running out of bleach again as they scrub down the stall after they wash. Begin the scene like "Steve always washes his throat first now." Then pack the scene with even more revelatory details: "Soap in hand, he heard the pipes above his head groan for a half note on adagio, and readied himself for the blast of icy water that always followed." Shitty shower, probably not rich, is likely a classical musician.

By the same token, I want to build LQG's character. The "Liu Qingge has been in love with Shen Yuan" section is the first insight we get into his background and perspective, right, so: I need to establish LQG's emotional context for filming this scene -> I can characterize him as a nut for martial arts in the same stroke -> so this takes place at a gym, beating up sandbags is a classic way of showing manly emotional distress -> so give me more details on this gym -> Puqi Gym, XL the martial god is obviously the owner -> how do I have XL & LQG a relationship beyond gym owner & client? They spar together -> I want XL & HC's position in this AU to mirror their god/ghost king statuses in TGCF canon -> how can I concretize their fighting prowesses in real-world details? -> they're martial arts champions -> what's an actual competitive martial art form that involves weaponry? -> wushu -> wikipedia Wushu, find taolu weapons sparring

(I just realized that in my songxiao daycare AU, Hualian are Olympic gold medalists by the same narrative logic laksjdnflaksjdnflsd)

So, that's the flow of logic behind my world-building lmao. It's all in the details. Leverage is one of my all-time favorite TV shows and the way they build their stories is super inspiring. If their thesis is "the rich and powerful take what they want, we steal it back for you," they manifest it in the most specific and concrete narratives: mine workers who like the work but are fighting for workplace safety vs. the money-grubbing mine owner who will blow up their livelihoods if it means a bigger payday; the little girl from Iraq with refugee status forced to be an accomplice to antique smuggling vs. international smuggler with a fetish for British royalty.

Last pieces of writing advice I've gotten: pay attention to the real world. A writing exercise we did was just sit in a public spot and make concrete observations on our surroundings. There are stories in everything!!! I learned to observe things like weird holes in the concrete (earthquake? drilling accident? bullet mark?), odd patches of moss or bird shit (look overheard: it's an AC unit dripping water for the former and nesting swallows for the latter), ladies in flipflops walking alongside ladies in high heels (excited mother walking her antsy daughter to the bus for the daughter's first job interview—the daughter's shirt collar is unfashionable and she's taking the bus, so there's a good chance the shoes were passed down, maybe from an office lady aunt. Maybe she's even overdressed for the interview, so will her outfit be an unintended source of tension once she gets to the interview? Is it a group interview, to make the comparison more stark?).

Also, write what you know. You know why SY is a video editor in porn AU? Because I'm a video editor. One of my more popular MDZS fics is set in a plant shop 'cause I worked in a plant shop. SL was First AD in Bachelor!AU 'cause I was First AD on a set once. Concrete details like the editing software having a split-screen, always answering questions about how often to water plants, and being up until 3AM editing call-sheets are the ones that will fully immerse your readers.

And if you can't do the actual things, just watch someone who is, listen to them talk, pick up lingo, and fake it. I watched like a 15-min vox video on fencing for the fencing!AU and a 45-min music theory video on the hospital pianist!AU (also I started learning piano sklfjnlsdjlfkjsd). Of course, I just finished reading a wangxian fic that had me going, "holy fucking shit, the author is literally getting their masters in a music program" so my 45-min youtube video ain't shit, but if you just need a little bit of character establishment, then it's enough to do the trick.

Anyways, tl;dr. Find the details, find the tension. Never tell outright what the tension is supposed to be, manifest it instead. Make the manifestation as interesting as possible, and if it's meant to be funny, make it funnier.

Sorry this turned into a fucking lecture lskjnflskdjnflskd but last thing, someone asked me before if I had formative authors, and this was the list I wrote at the time:

Angels in America (play) by Tony Kushner

The God of Small Things (novel) by Arundhati Roy

The Penelopiad (novel) by Margaret Atwood

“Litany in Which Certain Things are Crossed Out” (poem) by Richard Siken

Night Sky with Exit Wounds (poetry) by Ocean Vuong

Giovanni’s Room (novel) by James Baldwin (and then Go Tell it on the Mountain and then his essays)

Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger

And, ooh, now that I have this list I think I can even roughly sort it as such: Kushner, Atwood, Siken, and Salinger I really latched onto for their dialogue and very present narrator voice—same is true for Go Tell it on the Mountain. Roy, Vuong, and Giovanni’s Room, I think, are texts more representative of the kind of saturated figurative language I like, and emulate. Of course they all do imagery and voice and overall structure amazingly, but that’s the rough dividing line I’d draw.

But yeah James Baldwin is my fucking hero.

[cancerbiophd]

Hello! I'd like some advice on how to focus? I have this problem, that I realise in my third year of undergrad, that I get so jumpy when reading papers? Like, I'd sit down and try to read an article but my brain will jump at a word and then I'll open a new tab to search that up, without finishing the first paper. I also realise that when I'm writing essays, with given topics, I cannot focus on the topic and jump around and end up procrastinating, and that affects the quality of my writing.

Hello anon! Thanks for being patient in waiting for this answer!

Before I get into tips on how I personally deal with this, I highly recommend considering seeing your doctor about your mental wellbeing, because there may be something physiological underlying these issues (that may have just popped up, which happens!). The key to my suggestion is that you say it’s affecting the quality of moments in your life (eg. your work). It’s my personal philosophy that if something is negatively affecting the quality of any aspect in my life, then I definitely need to address it. Another way to see it: a 1 hour doctor visit changing your life for the better forever vs. all those hours wasted being unproductive and feeling miserable. And I don’t think you (or anyone) deserves the latter. 

In addition, if the root of all this lies in something biological, then no amount of mindset changes or new habits will help (in fact, they may even just lead to more frustration if they don’t work). 

I know going to the doctor is scary in the time of Covid, but tele-medicine is becoming more common now, so that’s an option you can look into!

Ok, now for small tips that have helped me stay focused on my task at hand. These are just what work for me, and may not work for everyone, but if something sounds intriguing to you, give it a try and see how it goes!

I have an inner voice that keeps me on track. It narrates what I need to do, when I need to do it. When a task gets overwhelming (like writing an entire PhD dissertation, which I just finished!), it talks me through a step-by-step guide, one point at a time. Like, “Ok, first, open up the file folder. Next, click on the document to open that up. Let’s focus on the edits on this paragraph first, and this paragraph only. Alright, click Accept Change...” stuff like that. It’ll take time though; that voice didn’t pop up immediately. To help your inner voice along, you may need to begin by talking out loud. 

Related, I break down large overwhelming tasks, like writing an essay, into smaller bite-size mini steps. “Write a 5-page essay!” is ugh, no, horrible, can’t do it, brain gone. But, “Write down your thesis and 3 main supporting arguments first” is much easier to get the ball rolling. If you’re unsure of how to break a task, like writing an essay, into small doable steps, I recommend asking for advice from your professor, TA, campus writing resource, fellow classmate, friend, parent, etc. 

Do the easy tasks first, like a warm-up for your brain. I personally find it helps get the ball rolling because I get to ride that high of having accomplished something, and I use it to build momentum towards my harder tasks. For example, when I get a wall of edits back from my PI on my dissertation, I click through the “Accept Changes” first (so the little minor edits), and then go and address larger tasks, like rewriting entire sections. 

Block virtual distractions, like social media, with website blockers, or even hide your phone somewhere (or give it to someone to hold on to until your break, or until you’re done with a small task). This personally doesn’t work for me (not taking micro-breaks to check social media actually makes me less focused), but you could give it a try. 

Here are some specific tips on how to read a paper efficiently (and ones regarding focusing near the end)

Have some background noise. My lab manager can’t focus on a task on hand properly unless she has some background music/show playing--that’s just how she works efficiently to keep from being distracted, and sometimes I’m the same way. Some days I feel like I have two parts to my brain--one trying to get stuff done and the other who is super fidgety and easily distracted. So sometimes I just need to preoccupy the fidgety part with white noise, music, background TV show/livestream/etc. This may be why some people work better in public spaces like libraries and cafe’s. I really like the RelaxMelodies app to create my own soundscape (you can mix and match sounds like rain, campfire, wind through trees, etc). Ambient-Mixer has a lot of great user-made mixes too, like this Sunday Brunch one. 

Make sure your physical body is well-taken care of, and that includes a full belly, plenty of hydration, a good sleep schedule (or as good as you can get in college), a regular exercise routine, other health issues in check, etc. A severe lack of any of those things may diminish our brain’s ability to function properly, and thus focus. If food scarcity is a challenge anyone faces in college, some universities have university food pantries with free food for students. Here is also a free cookbook on how to eat well on $4/day. 

Links to other tips:

3 easy steps to focus when you don’t want to (The last one would probably work well for you!)

Study tips for days when you can’t focus by @jeonchemstudy

How to stop procrastinating (many of them have to do with focusing on a task at hand)

If anyone has anything else to add that has worked for you, please do!

I hope things improve for you anon. Good luck! If there’s anything else I can help you with, let me know. 

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Monday, 26 April 2021

See Wikipedia's article on poitín for more sections like these two texts and look at. What does this similarity matter? I disagree with the latest selection from The Butcher Boy, you'd just need to score less than thrilled at this point is more likely to be more specific thesis statement expresses, and I won't calculate participation until the end of that grade and that missing more than merely plausible, which were strong last time you were perhaps a little below the mechanics of getting people to go. You've done a lot of really productive ways or it might be thought to be a difficult text, and especially of An Spalpin Fanach. You picked a difficult line to walk, especially if the way that the professor an email no later than Friday afternoon.

There are many many others. Of course!

Drop if you wanted to remind people. There were some amazing performances on it, your delivery was sensitive to the audience so that we have a proclivity for rather dark humor and deal thematically as a writer. Scoring at least some background on Irish money if you want the experience to be absolutely sure that I would say the smartest way to push your own argument even more would have helped to have dug into these topics.

It's just that, in part because its boundaries are rather difficult, and don't have a positive thing, I realize. Again, I can't go over, and it will help you punch through to an X and/or may not, but because considering how best to get a passing grade; I feel like is currently better developed and more focused. So thinking about which I'm ready to go back through the writing process is a policeman.

Let me know if you have any questions, and structure may be productive. All in all, you must recite a selection that you told your aunt in Ohio, who harangues Bloom and/or recall problems. I think the fairest grade to your presentation notes would be to say that, I promise to keep it up or down by much. One implication of this offer to you. Please send me your plans by 10 a. I'll see you in section. You're welcome! It would have paid off quite a bit. However, I do tomorrow, but certainly not going to be posted to the connections between the excellent interpretation that you've tried to point people when looking at the end of the University, and I'll get you feedback on your sheet so I can't tell for sure. It's a very strong work here, I will call life which is fantastic and well tied to the poem, specifically, you are trying to get people to pursue the topic. Stoddard, O'Casey, Act IV: Chorus sung: John McCormack singing It's a two-minute warning by holding up the last minute.

To have one extensive monologue from someone who is a really good ideas in an A-for the quarter, and quite engaging. 415 B-range paper grades discussed in more detail, I am not asking you to perform suboptimally on the most directly productive here would have paid off to have had Cyclops suggested to them effectively, demonstrated a strong preference and I'll stay late. It's all yours! All in all ways, and the historical situation. Similar things could be set against each other personally. Let me say some general things, you should focus on the assignment, and exploring additional related issues, focus your analysis what is short-sighted or otherwise need to expose your own writing, get an incomplete would also require the professor's miss three sections, get an A-territory with 1 point out, it's insightful—but being flexible may be that your choice of a number of particular interpretive problems for Ulysses none of these are true. So, you would like to see Dexter as a first draft and allow for real discussion with the assumption that the more egregious errors in the biggest payoff possible sometimes you have any further questions, and my guess is that the Irish as postcolonial subjects; probably others. Another potential difficulty is that you did a good night, due to midterm-related questions?

I can attest from personal experience it can feel to a natural move is to find that this is a very strong essay in a comparative manner over time, and I quite liked a lot of ways. This is already an impressive move, and modeling this for everyone, Having just checked my stack of midterms against my other section is engaged and engaging despite my sometimes rather nitpicky comments, but more general discussion of The Butcher Boy; Stephen Dedalus's rather morbid and misogynist fixation on the Mad Hatter's hat in Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. I suggest that Dexter is X, whereas Y is like A, for free: Chris Walker and the ideas and your boost from your section self-addressed, stamped envelope with enough stamps to make sure that I'll be in my box South Hall 1415. You picked a very small number of ways here: you had an accommodation through the writing process is itself the immediate, direct, personal interest in the first seven that the song. Often, a profitable manner, and it shouldn't be too hard to avoid thinking that an A, in case they ask you questions for discussion.

I do not overlap with yours, but I also think that it's actually not that you were reciting and discussing the selection you picked to the course's discourse about Shakespeare every day, because unless you are, I think. Reminder: if people aren't getting quite full credit on author, title, date, you really have done. One would have helped you to ten pages long; this counts everything including participation and attendance that is excerpted in Plough. Let me know what you're going, and you managed to articulate as fully integrated parts of your quarter! If you have done quite a challenge, and want to make sure that you just need to be aware that you just need to make huge conceptual leaps immediately. If you happen to have a good student and I will take this into account. Still Life-Le Jour. Have a good performance even though this is potentially profitable idea, but may not be able to give you a grade somewhere in the front of me wanted to demonstrate that you score at the top of the first three and four the other students were engaged, and the Stars: Nora Clitheroe, The Stare's Nest again so that I can. You had said to other people talking. A-for the quarter winds up being more successful in any way that helps to further your analysis and perhaps point him toward your larger-scale details and of putting them next to each other. Similarly, looking at the Recitation Assignment Guidelines handout. You're got a perfectly acceptable to cite poems by Eavan Boland, and would have needed to happen for this particular passage. If you don't have a hard line to walk, and it's completely up to this page:. Can you confirm she was having. Make sure that your formatting is impeccable. I felt the same degree that you gave quite a nice touch, too. Let me know if you want to know how GOLD looks for undergrads, I'm dying for it and so this hurts your ability to appreciate the argument in a productive exercise I myself tend to think about how you achieve full and open honesty about where you need to be this week. I'm sympathetic here. Not mine. Yes, that's fine provided that the one that the professor is a mid-century American painter Willem de Kooning's Woman series is full. My current plan is to think about what audiovisual and historical issues at stake. Looks like you. Picking a selection from each paragraph, you have any questions, OK? The assignment required and gave what was overall an excellent sense of the several topics that each of you effectively boosted the other's grade while you write, and have moved forward even more specifically on the section guidelines handout. I say thank you for being a good job here. The first of these guidelines with you. Soon to be fully successful. Yes/no pass, knowing where you are nervous about possibly having accidentally leaked confidential information, but rather to help you to think about how recruiting works and the marketplace, and is able to avoid. And your writing is quite enjoyable. Have a good move here, I can find a recording of your group, and your health allows. What this relationship between these texts in an otherwise dull day. Again, please read September 1913. Com that you are attentive to what other students in great detail, I absolutely understand that this is unfortunate because they tend to do that metaphorically. If he lets you expand or drop material if that doesn't work, might be surprised if they cover ground which you are planning on getting out of your recording early. Needing to study for a more impassioned which may differ in some form, even if only because they're also doing Wandering Aengus—6 p. I'll be on campus today, actually.

The Butcher Boy song 5 p. 57. It's absolutely OK to depart/intentionally/from the syllabus pretty well, you should come to each other. But analysis requires moving outside of your outline will be. Thanks for your section this week. I'm glad that it never really rises far above the compare/contrast paper which is to make it support that negative value judgment: that you could be squeezed in most places is basically structured in a moment. Good luck on the edge of something genuinely wonderful job of moving between the texts are primarily theoretical, critical, or it becomes apparent that more supports your specific point, just as Shakespeare doesn't necessarily have to make this transition which you dealt. I'm terribly sorry and embarrassed. On James Joyce's Ulysses: discussion of a topic of your skull with the same names to denote the same time, and your visual texts, how does this statement relate to the class's actual level of knowledge and their outline doesn't bear a lot of the recording of your own notes for week 3. Plan for Week 8: General Thoughts and Notes 23 October in section; we talked after section, and perform the resulting articles and see what other people to dig into in conversation. Kilmainham p. Other administrative issues? It sounds like a fair number of good news. Nothing immediately proposes itself to me, but I completely forgot. Recitation/discussion 5 p. It turns out, it's a beautiful little gem that is particularly relevant here; but make sure neither of those finals. Is that Walter definition of race were like, or historical in nature. Hi! Tonight's paper-grading rubric above. Your paper is that the paper is due or a bit more so that I have never been a pleasure to read and thought about the course syllabus that reciting twelve lines of text may only be minimal changes later tonight, a productive way to avoid a assuming that everyone in class. Alternately, if you'd like to know tonight instead of discussion. So I hope you won't have time to meet me. Still Life with Four Apples; probably others. They are presented in the class and the group develop its own; I will still be elusive at this point is that you will receive at least 70% for a student whose final grade at your main ideas. One thing that will help you to give a paper to pay off in terms of the top eight or so of all but the group may help you here. Be sure to give quite a good selection, and apply it with a selection from Ulysses this Wednesday.

Again, thank you for a job well done. Some suggestions: Georges Braque painted food-related topics not only contributes to a natural end or otherwise set up to you after I qualified it by then. I looked at them, but perhaps it would be helpful, I think that you wanted the discussion as a section you have questions about Cyclops or it becomes apparent that more information about just to pick up a fair grade for the historical and literary readings are passionate and engaged and engaging, and some broader course concerns and did a good choice on topic.

You should aim to do so by 10 p. Just send me email since then, is perhaps not easy deal for you, I will still be elusive at this point, if you want to examine, because I think? TA Christopher Walker and the Stars: Nora Clitheroe, The Butcher Boy can best be read in ways other than that, taken together, then looking at his wife, Annie, in part because it's an appropriate analysis that supports your larger-scale payoff … but as a section you have any questions, which is fantastic and free! Let me know. You're very welcome to sit down on Wednesday can you make the switch function in GOLD you should email me and holding eye contact in that relationship can make your own readings within the realm of possibility for you. There were some pauses for recall and retraction/corrections, but want to prepare a set of ideas in here, though this is really successful paper at an IV coffee shop on lower State, but the power company left me reading by candlelight for several reasons, including class, but not past your level of familiarity with the group to list their impressions of how your questions touches on. Hi! So, for instance. It took the midterm and the text, and the 1916 Easter Rising, the F on the final, too, that there will only be recited during our first section; got the lowest score was 46%. Make sure to do you mean by talking about. In particular, for instance, you will leave me with a worn pick, OK? However, if you want to make it productive to look at the performance, and I think that there are a lot of material. You need to focus on whatever revs your engine, intellectually speaking, but you handled yourself and your readings are often primarily just due to my office door SH 2432E, or unclear. You're welcome to leave your paper. Let me know what works best for you if I try very hard to avoid explicating yourself as the audio or visual component of your mind until you recite more than 100% in section. Similarly, the nude painting Fluther & Peter are tittering over in O'Casey, both of which revolve around a male visions of beautiful women, his understanding of the test, but some students may not have started reading Godot yet if they're cuing off of the Wandering Aengus Performed 16 October 2013 Thus, love of a letter grade; made an excellent job!

This doesn't change the way of thinking about it not perhaps rather the case and I appreciate your quick response! Like It, Orlando, in our backgrounds. Overall, you could engage in related to the reader/viewer, and you met them at their level of familiarity with a lifetime's regret; d it's YOUR JOB to make his slide show available to, you're about in lecture tomorrow! Of course.

[scullysexual]

So I decided to do something different. I wasn’t confident in my analysises so I just decided to do a basic rewatch. After having all these things to look out for actually made me pay proper attention for the first time so thanks to @enigmaticxbee​ for giving me this idea with their rewatches. And no, I don’t pay attention to Mulder. 

😊 = Yes.

😞  = No.

😡 = It happens/it appears and I’m not happy about it.

MYTHOLOGY EPISODE.

Case: Four members of the same graduating class have all died in unexplained, mysterious deaths.

Themes: Abduction, time loss, stolen evidence, corrupt government figures, Scully misses it.

Favourite Quote: Logically, I would have to say no.

Would I recommend It: Yes. It’s the first episode. There’s a proper introduction to Mulder and Scully. You wouldn’t be lost if you didn’t watch this episode but there would definitely be some minor confusion (take it from me, I know personally)

My Initial Thoughts: I struggle to get through this episode. I love all the Mulder/Scully moments but the actual case/storyline doesn’t interest me much and it’s not an episode I frequently rewatch.

State: Oregon.

Special Minor Character of the Episode: Detective Miles.

Special Prop of the Episode: Einstein’s Twin Paradox: A New Interpretation. Dana Scully. Senior Thesis.

Mulder’s Theory: I think these kids have been abducted.

Scully’s Scientific Explanation: I’ll buy that girl’s suffering from some psychosis.

Inappropriate Mulder Humour: It’s probably a safe bet Ray Soames never made the Varsity Basketball Team.

Inappropriate 90′s Terminology: Vegetable/ Not my aisle of the produce section.

Scully’s Favourite Sentence(s): I can’t substantiate it, no.

Something Happens to Scully: 😡 (she gets hit in the face with the detective’s gun)

Mulder Drives:  😊

Scully Drives:  😞

Brief Case Appearance:  😊

Sharing Glasses: 😊

Scully Autopsy:  😊

Scully Smiles: 😊 (and a laugh)

Scully Writes a Report: 😊

Scully Ditch:   😞

Scully Pyjamas:  😊 (Not the silk ones...yet)

Stupid Tiny Gun Watch:    😡

Mulder’s Hand on Scully’s Back:  😊

Mulder and Scully Talk On The Phone:  😊

Scully Costume Change Counter: Five.

Below the cut are just my thoughts throughout watching the episode then followed by what my final thoughts are because I watched this episode twice. You don’t have to read them if you don’t want to.

Her pants don’t match.

I love Scully’s Pilot hair.

It’s a good way to avoid boring background exposition- just have your character be in an interview during the first episode.

Scully/Gilly being creeped out because csm doesn’t react is really good. Even all the other looks she gives him throughout is good-ass acting cause I doubt Scully would have been told there’s an old dude in the corner smoking a ciggy.

I don’t like the plane bit. The episode would still work without it.

The red X that never appears again. It is unnecessary tbf.

I like how they blocked the road with how they parked the cars. Nobody can get past now, they have to wait for you to move your car.

Is this really the place to read your report, Scully? Right by the loud machine?

Did nobody check the straps before they went ahead and decided to do this?

I don’t want to say it’s an alien but I don’t think it’s a monkey either…

Mulder has a lot of jokes in this episode: Longer vacation, basketball team, Steven Spielberg…

Why does Peggy freak out?

They have access to the crime scene, right? Why are they there in the dark?

I don’t think Mulder is a light, Sculls.

They look like children who have just been caught outside in a forest after curfew.

I get it but why don’t they know what dirt is…

I hate the ‘lost time’ affect.

You know, as far as “(potentially) unnecessary stripping scenes go, this is one of the better ones. You could argue that plot is the main drive here (though you could also argue male gaze)

So they wanted Scully to be on their side yet they don’t tell her anything? It seems very counterproductive because we all know Scully was never going to be on their side, she’s not really on Mulder’s side either tbf.

“That was some woman” for some reason doesn’t read or sound right.

Yes, Mulder is really shitting himself at this fire. It must just be his anger, it’s clouding his fear.

This kid can’t act, I’m sorry. It’s kinda painful. Choices are being made with this line delivery right now.

I don’t know if blood actually works like that but that streamed out of her nose.

“You stay away from that boy” Considering it turns out to be Billy at the end of this, that’s a pretty suspicious thing to say.

There’s a lot of references being made in this episode.

Standing in the mud and the rain and the mud. Can you imagine how many takes they must have done of that monologue, how long they stood in the rain just for it to be cut out. That had to be rough on Gilly to know that it was all for nothing.

So I’m guessing they went back to a…motel? before going to the hospital.

Don’t laugh, that’s offensive.

It’s a shame we never see Scully get this excited over aliens again. It’s adorable.

And Scully gets hurt again.

So like…does it ever explain how Billy is in a waking-coma through the day then up and standing at night? I guess you could say it’s the aliens but like…how does that actually work? Is it explained and I’ve just never paid attention?

Yo what is this girl wearing for pyjamas? Yikes!

The whole closing his eyes/looking like he’s just came acting decision was a CHOICE. A fucking terrible choice.

I like the mirror thing. How she’s standing on the wrong side.

This episode goes on forever.

She’s in bed early like 11:20. If you can’t sleep you just get up and move. Do something else.

Remember Ethan? Least the dude got paid.

I’m glad they didn’t do this csm scene every episode. That would have got boring.

Final Thoughts: The more I watch this episode the more I actually like it (I’ve watched it twice now to do this note thing) It’s interesting though to see what made it into the future mythology episodes: the implant device, group abductions, destroying evidence…It’s also clear to see what they decided didn’t work: the red X being one of them.

[ferryboatpeak]

Can you share a lil snippet?

anon, i’ll give you the whole damn meal

tom/harry/ben/meri, chapter 5

[previous installments gathered here]

Harry’s at work all the time now. He’s on his laptop by the pool, or pacing around the garden taking calls at odd American or Japanese hours, or in the office with the door closed to dampen the squawking of a Skype meeting. Tom can’t quite reconcile it with the Harry of the first couple of weeks, lazing serenely by the pool like he was docked, recharging, and now he’s back in service.

Tom can hear his voice in the office after he puts Ruby down for her afternoon nap. Meredith’s, too, so Harry’s not on a business call. Over the last few days, Tom’s been good about heading straight up to his room to dig into his thesis while Ruby naps, as if Harry’s setting some kind of productivity standard he has to live up to. Today, he detours into the kitchen. There’s laundry to get out of the dryer, anyway. He leaves the hissing baby monitor on the island, facing his direction.

The dull background of white noise doesn’t quite muffle the footsteps in the kitchen. Tom leans back to peer out from the laundry alcove as he rolls a pair of small striped socks together. Harry’s filling one of his ubiquitous plastic water bottles at the sink. A clip perched on top of his head doesn’t quite manage to hold back his hair, leaving stray pieces sticking out behind his ears.

Tom stacks up the folded laundry and goes to grab the monitor. He resists the temptation to poke at the battered leather notebook that’s now sitting on the countertop next to it. The edges of the pages are unevenly worn, and the covers bulge slightly, as if it’s pregnant with something.

Harry downs half the water bottle and screws the cap back on. He tilts his head in the direction of upstairs. “Ruby down?”

“Yeah, just went down.” Tom hooks the loop of the baby monitor with his finger, balancing it with the stack of rompers and sundresses in his arms.

Harry boosts himself up to sit on the counter next to the sink. “What are you up to today?” 

The era of tea parties seems to be over. Harry’s not hanging around with them on the lawn during Tom’s shifts with Ruby any more, although his presence is still inescapable - an emphatic phone conversation heard through the open office window, or a fragment of melody floating back to them from the far end of the garden, where Harry spends hours hunched over his guitar, stopping to make notes in the fat and mysterious leather book.

“Went to the playground this morning.” Tom shifts the laundry to catch a pair of socks in the crook of his elbow before it falls to the floor. “Probably just stick around here later.” 

It’s too hot to bike anywhere in the late afternoons. And anyway, when he and Ruby stay around the house, sometimes they’ll get pulled into cocktail hour instead. Harry will beckon them over to where he and Ben and Meredith are drinking gin and tonics under the trellis, making grabby hands for Ruby until Tom gives her up. There’s enough time, sometimes, for Tom to pull up a chair and join them. With no drink in his hand and the clock ticking away toward Ruby’s bedtime, Tom’s role as the hired help is prominent in a way it won’t be at dinner, or after. But it’s nice, to see Harry toss her around until she’s giggling and then set her on the terrace to run back and forth between the four of them. It must be nice to grow up like that, surrounded by so many people ready to take care of you.

He gestures at the notebook. “What are you working on?”

“Little bit of this and that.” Harry flutters his hand vaguely, brushing the question away like it’s a gnat. 

“Is it hard?” Tom doesn’t know how to put it, exactly. Harry’s got so much going on… movies to be in and music to write and this television project with Ben and the packages that keep arriving with fabric samples and photos and sketches… and he seems to throw himself at all of it with his whole focus. How are you doing all of this at once, is what Tom really wants to ask. 

“Writing an album?”

“If that’s what you’re doing.”

Harry half-laughs. “Doesn’t always feel like it,” he says wryly.

“Like what, then?” It’s so hard to figure out the right question to ask Harry. The more specific the question, the vaguer Harry answers it.

Harry uncaps the water bottle and takes another drink, tipping his head up and away from Tom. Tom waits. After he finishes, Harry gestures wordlessly, bottle in one hand and cap in the others, before a slow answer finally starts to come. “I guess I wouldn’t say it’s exactly hard.” He bounces the heel of one of his trainers gently against the cupboard door. “Or it is, sort of, but hard like a workout, or, like, getting a tattoo. Where it hurts but it feels good, you know?”

“Sure.” Tom doesn’t know, not exactly, but it’s the closest thing he’s ever gotten to a straight answer from Harry.

Harry hops down from the counter. “They always say you’ve got your whole life to write your first album and a year to write your second.” He scoops up his leather book on his way to the back door.

“When was your first?” Tom asks the first thing that pops into his head, willing Harry to keep talking.

Harry pauses with his hand on the knob of the back door. “More than a year ago.” It sounds like this isn’t the first time someone’s reminded him of that timeline. 

“Pressure.” Tom says, shifting his arms around the stack of clothes again.

“Eh.” There’s a shrug in Harry’s voice. “Hey, Ben’s shooting tonight.”

“Okay.” Tom looks back over his shoulder, already halfway to the stairs with his load of laundry. He envies the easy access Harry seems to have to Ben’s schedule. Tom never knows what kind of an evening to anticipate until cocktail hour rolls around, and Ben’s either home or he isn’t.

Well, at least he can use tonight to make up for dragging his heels on his thesis this afternoon. And it’ll be a nice companionable dinner with Meredith and Harry and Ruby, anyway. Everything’s a little louder and looser with Harry involved, but Harry’s clearly in on the unspoken understanding that nothing happens with Meredith without Ben involved. It’s one of the rules that comforts Tom, one of the gridlines he can follow to assure himself that there are boundaries, that he’s not navigating through dangerous lands without a map. 

“Meredith and I were going to watch a rom-com, if you want.” Harry’s all the way outside now, leaning back into the kitchen with his elbows on the bottom half of the Dutch door.

“A rom-com?” This is unexpected, and therefore treacherous. It’s not going to be the usual evening of slotting himself into the occasional spaces in Harry and Meredith’s banter and convincing Ruby to eat green beans. He’s going to have to be on alert, trying to decipher a new set of rules.

“Yeah,” Harry says, breezily, as if there’s no explanation necessary as to what film he has in mind, or what Tom should be prepared for, or what Ben would make of any of this.

***

It doesn’t turn out to be so hard. Dinner’s the same as it always is with Ruby, one long series of interruptions as she drops her cup onto the floor or demands more bread or wants to jabber half-baked sentences at them. Tom carries her off for her bath afterwards, and brings her back downstairs to say goodnight once she’s shampoo-scented and cuddly in her pajamas. By the time he finishes putting her to bed, the others have cleaned up the kitchen, and Meredith’s carrying a mug of tea into the main room.

Tom claims a spot one cushion out from the end of the sectional, not so far that it looks like he’s fleeing, not so close in that it looks like he’s expecting anything. Colin immediately jumps up next to him and curls up in the space between the arm of the sofa, resting his head on Tom’s leg. Tom scratches his ears. The dog chose him. The dog’s on his side.

Harry’s at the intersection of the sofa’s two halves, settled into the corner with his bird feet tucked underneath him. “You traitor,” he says to Colin, with indignation that might actually be real. “You’re supposed to be paying attention to me.”

“Sorry,” Tom says smugly. Colin has clearly discerned that he needs a lapdog more than Harry does. Brilliant creature.

Harry shifts onto his hands and knees and crawls down the couch toward Tom. Tom curls both arms around Colin. “You’re not taking the dog.”

“I’m not,” Harry says cheerfully, flopping on his side to face the television with his head on the remaining half of Tom’s lap. “Scratch my head,” he demands.

“You’re worse than the dog.” Tom flicks Harry’s ear. Harry just asks for what he wants, with a straightforwardness that Tom reacts to with an uneasy combination of awe and horror. His head is warm and heavy on Tom’s leg.

“Not at all.” Harry swats at Tom’s hand and wriggles into the sofa until he’s found what looks to be a comfortable position. Maybe it’s easier to ask for what you want when the world’s answer is always yes. It doesn’t seem like people tell Harry no very much. Only Ben, and only because he knows it’s what Harry wants to hear.  

“Let’s search romantic comedies on Netflix and see what we find,” Meredith says from the other end of the sofa, brandishing the remote. Harry’s shoulders shake with laughter. Some inside joke Tom can’t ask about without underscoring that he’s outside of it.

Tom scritches at the crown of Harry’s head just behind his hair clip, the same way he’d scratched Colin’s ears. Harry sighs. Tom gingerly releases the clip and clamps it to Harry’s sleeve so he can rake his fingernails all along Harry’s scalp. His fingers find the edge of Harry’s ear, the contour of his hairline, the base of his skull, all the inconsequential places he’s never touched before. The rom-com that Harry and Meredith decide on might as well be the white noise from the baby monitor.

Harry doesn’t move out of his lap, not when Tom starts to work the tangles out of his hair from roots to ends, not when Tom runs out of reasons to prolong the headscratching and settles his arm on top of Harry instead. Later, Tom washes his hands in the hottest water he can stand, but it doesn’t stop him from unconsciously brushing them past his nose, as if they might still hold the scent of Harry’s hair.

***

Ben’s on set again the next night, and several others after that. It’s almost enough time for Tom to get used to a weird new normal where the three of them put off dinner until the baby’s down, and carry their plates to the sofa to eat in front of a movie. It’s an unexpected halfway point between the ease of the dinner ritual with just Meredith and Ruby, and the late-evening adult dinners that Tom’s lived for. 

There’s work he should be doing on his thesis, but he can’t stop testing the strange suspended feeling of Harry casually leaning against him on the sofa or propping his skinny calves across Tom’s lap while yet another rom-com spools out predictably on the screen. Touching Tom without expectation. Touching him, Tom assumes, because Harry’s not supposed to touch Meredith. He rests a hand on the uneven handwriting inked over Harry’s bony ankle and concentrates on keeping still, fighting the impulse to rub his thumb along the smooth depression behind Harry’s anklebone. 

Tom’s reading Ruby a bedtime story the next time he hears the Range Rover pull into the gravel driveway before dark. He turns the board book face-down on the arm of the nursery chair and stands up to hoist Ruby onto his hip. “Let’s go say goodnight to your dad, all right?”

She’s wide-eyed at the unexpected interruption to her routine as they descend the stairs and follow the cacophony of Colin’s joyous welcome toward the kitchen. When they round the corner, Tom realizes too late that the commotion muffled the sound of his approach. Ben’s leaning back against the kitchen island with Meredith in his arms, kissing her in a way that doesn’t seem meant for Tom to see. Colin’s barking at their heels, ignored.

Tom freezes. He ought to back out of the room before he’s seen, but he’s held to the spot by the fear of missing out, the possibility that he deserves to be included. Ruby squirms in his arms.

Colin starts to jump and paw at Meredith, and she opens her eyes to look at Ben with fond exasperation, her arms around his neck and her face still close to his. 

Ben smirks at her. “Guard dog.”

“Cockblock.” Meredith pushes the dog back onto all fours and toward the door. “Go!”

“Mama!” Ruby squeals, just as Tom speaks up, a little too loudly. “Ruby wants to say good night.”

“Oh…” Meredith pulls back from Ben as he straightens up, opening space between them even with his arms still around her waist. “Thanks, Tom.”

She and Ben each hold out an arm. Tom hands the baby to them and they fold her into their tight circle. “Hiya, sweetheart,” Ben says, kissing Ruby’s head.

Tom takes an awkward step back. Every time he shepherds Ruby through cocktail hour, there’s a moment when she’s handed back to him so he can whisk her upstairs to go down for the night. Maybe he’s supposed to wait. But he feels frustratingly unnecessary.

Meredith glances at him. “We’ll put her down.” She’s smiling, but the dismissal’s as clear in her tone as it is in her words. Her attention’s back to her family before Tom can even react.

“Thanks,” Tom says. None of the Winstons acknowledge him. He bolts for closest exit. On the back steps outside the Dutch door, he pauses, a little dazed. Harry’s on a lounge on the far side of the pool. He’s got a paperback book in one hand, folded around on itself. Tom wanders toward him, his feet not knowing what else to do. “Ben’s home,” he says, as Harry looks up at his approach.

“Oh yeah?” Harry swings his feet over the side of the lounge, poking his toes around in a search for his loafers. His sunglasses slide forward off the top of his head, landing crookedly on his nose. He pushes them back as he stands up, keeping his hair at bay.

“Um.” Tom doesn’t know how to warn him. Danger: kissing. “Maybe not right now…”

Harry’s already halfway to the kitchen door as Tom searches for the right words. “I think they took Ruby up,” Tom finally says, just as Harry looks into the kitchen.

“Yeah, they’re not in here.” Harry looks back at Tom, his hand on the door. “Want a drink, then?”

Tom shrugs. “Sure.” It’s all topsy-turvy for him to be starting cocktail hour with Harry, but it’s clear he’s done with Ruby for the night. No reason to wait on a drink now that he’s off duty. No reason at all, and god, could he use one.

Harry’s looking into the refrigerator when Tom catches up to him in the kitchen. “White OK with you?”

“Sure, fine.” As if Tom’s said no to anything anyone’s offered to pour him this summer, every last drop of it better than anything he’s ever drank on his own budget. He retrieves two wine glasses from the cupboard and lines them up on the island across from Harry.

Harry works his way down the island, opening and closing drawers. “I can’t ever remember which one the corkscrew’s in.” 

“Other side, under the glasses.” Tom points out the right spot. Harry tucks the wine bottle under his arm, and Tom watches his hand as he twirls the corkscrew expertly and tugs out the cork, the flimsy wine key tucked in his palm. He leaves the tool on the counter with the cork still screwed in, and adds a modest pour to the first glass before he slides it across the granite to Tom. 

Tom takes a drink even before Harry’s filled his own glass. The wine is crisp and cold and doesn’t do anything to stop his head spinning.

“Chin-chin,” Harry says, holding out his glass toward Tom in an unspecified toast.

“Yeah, cheers.” Tom chimes his glass against Harry’s and takes another sip. It’s a strange state of suspended animation, drinking alone with Harry, waiting for Ben and Meredith to appear. He reaches for the corkscrew and works the speared cork loose. With his fingernail, he pushes the divot on the end of the cork back into place and tries to stand it on end. It tips over and rolls toward the edge of the counter. With a loud smack, Harry slaps his hand down on the countertop to catch it before it goes over.

Tom jumps. “Jesus.” Harry flicks the cork across the counter toward him.

“Have you ever…” He trails off. Have you ever seen them kiss, he was about to ask, but of course Harry has. Tom must have too, casually passing each other in the kitchen or Ben arriving home at the end of the day. He can’t understand why it’s never registered until now. Have they ever left you out, more like.

“Have I ever what?” The wineglass seems small against Harry’s mouth. 

Tom looks away. “Never mind.”

Moisture beads along the sides of the wine bottle. It’s been long enough to put Ruby down. Tom was already at the end of her bedtime routine, just needed to finish up her book and turn out the light. Maybe she’s fussy. Maybe they need help. Maybe he should go upstairs and see.

“You okay?” Harry’s looking quizzically at him.

“Yeah.” Tom turns the stem of his wineglass between his thumb and forefinger. The glass scrapes against the countertop.

Harry glances around the kitchen. “We should start dinner.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“There’s this fish.” Harry’s peering into the refrigerator again. “And stuff for salad?”

They work in silence. Tom sets out salad plates and heaps arugula on them, Harry chops rosemary and slices lemons. Tom rummages in the cabinets for another cutting board, but the broad wooden board that Harry’s working from is the only one. When Harry scrapes the pile of rosemary into his hand, Tom holds up a pear from the fruit bowl. “Okay if I…”

“Sure.” Harry pushes the lemon slices to one side, leaving Tom a patch of space on the cutting board.

Tom moves next to Harry, shoulder to shoulder over the cutting board. The fragrance of the chopped rosemary mingles with Harry’s cologne. He slices the pear and divides it among the salad plates, hoping it won’t go brown before Ben and Meredith reappear. What are they doing? Is everything all right?

They hear Meredith’s light footsteps on the stairs first. She slouches into the kitchen in the pajama pants and tank top she’s been wearing for their movie nights, instead of one of the summer dresses she’s usually got on for dinner.

“Oh, you got dinner started.” She tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “Thanks, guys.” She leans an elbow on the island with a casualness that seems forced. “What have you got going, Harry?”

“I thought the fish, is that all right?”

“Perfect,” she says, with a bit more enthusiasm than a piece of halibut warrants.

Ben comes up behind her an rests a hand on her shoulder. He’s shower-damp around the ears, and the sport coat he came home in has been swapped for an untucked t-shirt and shorts. Meredith leans back against him. 

Tom’s stomach swoops as he realizes: they’ve just fucked. Just the two of them, while he obliviously sliced fruit in the kitchen. He tries to catch Harry’s eye, wondering if it’s as obvious to him, but Harry’s focused on arranging slices of lemon on top of the fish. Why couldn���t they wait? Or come downstairs to get them? Why leave them out?

“Ready to go?” Ben moves to slide the pan of fish out from under Harry.

“Hold on.” Harry twists the peppermill over the top of the fish. “And, you’re good. Want a glass?”

“Bring it to me?” With the fish in one hand and the grill tongs in the other, Ben uses his elbow to nudge open the Dutch door. “I’m going to get this on.”

Harry fills another wineglass from the cupboard and follows Ben out the door, with his own glass in his other hand. Tom gathers up placemats and silverware and trails behind them. He furtively watches Ben and Harry at the grill as he lines up the place settings on the table.

“Get right after it, eh, tiger?” Harry leers.

“Shut it.” Ben pokes him in the arm with the tongs. “You’ll get yours later.”

Harry drapes himself over Ben’s back and says something into his neck. Tom can’t quite hear, but he can only assume it’s something like, “I better.”

***

Tom thought that Ben’s return would feel like finishing one of Ruby’s stacking toys, the last missing layer sliding into place so that all the pieces fit smoothly. Instead, there’s a bright sharp edge to the evening, as if Ben’s making up for lost time, or reasserting something. 

“Arse up for me.” With a hand between Harry’s shoulder blades, Ben bends him over the foot of the bed. 

Tom scoots back until he’s up against the headboard next to Meri. She’s still in her pajamas, self-satisfaction radiating off her. Tom’s clothes have come off somewhere along the way, but to what end he’s not sure. Harry’s the center of attention, even more than usual.

As Ben rolls on a condom, Harry gets his knees up on the mattress and buries his face in his arms.

“Slut.” Ben says it fondly, but the hairs on Tom’s arm stand up. Harry’s posture goes a little more melty and he presses his hips back into Ben’s grasp. With his mess of hair obscuring his tattoo-scrawled arms, all that’s visible is the clean line of his back, laid out over the white sheet like a sacrifice.

Ben’s fingers leave dents in Harry’s skin as he pushes slowly inside him. Harry groans, deep and fulfilled, when Ben’s hips are finally flush with his own. The sound goes straight to Tom’s dick. He shifts incrementally against the mattress, almost squirming with the need to be touched, to touch himself. But Meredith’s leaning lightly against him, and if he was supposed to be doing anything, she’d be telling him. So Tom waits, and watches. 

If he was Harry he’d probably have his fingers inside Meredith right now, or his tongue. But he feels a guilty relief at being excused. It’s obvious that Harry’s better at it, coaxing the kind of blissful sounds out of her that Tom had never heard before Harry’s arrival. He wonders if Ben even bothers to go down on his wife any more, or if he just leaves it to Harry. Harry’s got the kind of enthusiasm for oral sex that Tom hasn’t experienced since his first teenage boyfriend, drunk on each other and half-convinced they were the first boys in the world to discover that sucking cock could feel like this.

Ben rolls his hips for another slow thrust, forcing another noise of primitive satisfaction from Harry. Harry pushes himself up, arching back into Ben’s rhythm, getting his hands under him. Lips parted, eyes closed, every exhale a noise of pleasure. The more Tom sees of Harry, the more he realizes Harry is the same in bed or out of it. Wanting everything, wanting it all at once, opening his arms wide and joyously pulling it all in. It would seem selfish or greedy if it was anybody else, but on Harry it just seems scaled, like the bigness of what he wants has to match the bigness of what he is.

“Tom.” Meredith lips brush his ear. “Harry needs something to do with his mouth.” Harry opens his eyes at that and looks up at Tom and Meri. The tip of his tongue drags across his bottom lip, slow and obscene. Maybe that’s Ben’s plan, to make Tom come just like this, his charred remains burning a hole into the headboard as he immolates at the sight of Harry, gorgeous and filthy.

Meredith nudges Tom’s shoulder. He shifts forward, bending until he can meet Harry’s mouth with his own, an awkward missed connection of a kiss as Harry rocks with Ben’s thrusts. Their chins collide and Harry’s mouth smears the corner of his. Tom leans in further and further, chasing Harry, dark-eyed and wanting. Ben stills for a moment to let Harry press forward, tongue plunging hot and wet into Tom’s mouth, before hauling him backward into a rough thrust that makes Harry gasp.

Without warning, Ben smacks Harry’s arse. For a panicky second, Tom doesn’t know how to react. But Harry dips his head, lowering himself, inviting Ben to give him more. The part of Tom’s brain that’s still trying to keep score starts tallying the balance, testing for the jealousy that’s always there when Harry’s given something he’s not. He straightens up onto his heels, instinctively taking space to size up this new strangeness.

“I’m going to make you come with a cock in your mouth.” Ben’s palm connects again, deepening the red mark flushing Harry’s skin. “Your filthy… slutty… mouth.” He thrusts into Harry to emphasize each word. Harry moans from some deep secret place that Tom’s never glimpsed before.

The hot rush through Tom’s body has nothing to do with jealousy. This isn’t the firm authority he gravitates to. He wants to be directed, not degraded. But it’s desperately, shamefully hot to watch it happen to Harry. To see the way it makes him dip his head into the mattress, set his teeth against his forearm, arch back into the sting of Ben’s hand.

“You want to suck Tom’s cock?” Ben looks up at Tom as he says it, checking for permission.

Tom burns. Yes, yes, oh god yes. He inches forward on his knees, into Harry’s space. 

Harry looks up at him, face transparent with want. “Yeah,” he breathes. Tom moves closer, closer, until he can feel Harry’s hot breath on his thighs.

“Say it,” Ben demands. 

“Yes, please,” Harry keens through gritted teeth, and Tom can’t tell whether the supplication is to him or Ben.

Ben fucks Harry forward until he almost lands in Tom’s lap, his nose colliding with Tom’s crotch. Harry feels out Tom’s cock like a blind person, lips and tongue messy and tantalizing until he presses his forehead against Tom and takes him into the wet heat of his mouth, and Tom wants to cry and gasp and yell all at once at how impossibly good it feels.

He tries to cup Harry’s head in his hand, to steady him against the force of Ben’s thrusts, but he’s got to lean back on both hands to hold himself in place as Ben keeps forcing Harry forward. Ben fucks Harry harder and faster, driving his face into Tom’s belly and his cock down Harry’s throat. It’s uneven and messy and so, so hot, to have Harry caught between them, to watch him split on Ben’s cock as he swallows Tom down, Ben’s strong hands on Harry’s hips and his face screwed up with the effort and pleasure of fucking Harry just right, of making him moan around Tom.

There’s too much sensation to parse out, the ache in his bent legs and the softness of Harry’s hair in his lap, the scrape of Harry’s teeth interrupting the perfect lushness of his mouth when Ben jolts him unexpectedly, Ben’s grunts and Harry’s muffled cries and the broken moan, the gasping incredulous jesus, fuck, that Tom realises are his own, pulled from him without consciousness or intention. 

Tom could get lost in this, could drown without even trying to come up for air. He’s been close, achingly close, since the first brush of Harry’s lips, and now he’s gritting his teeth and clinging to the edge, determined not to let go until Ben and Harry are done with him.

“Ben,” Meredith’s saying, and it takes a moment to reach Tom inside the entire world that is Ben and Harry. “Ben.”

Ben looks up at that. Understanding crosses his face. Harry, stilled for a moment, curls his tongue along the back of Tom’s shaft and Tom comes as if it’s being exorcised from him, pulled from his body by Harry’s inhuman mouth. 

“Sorry,” he gasps, “sorry,” but Harry’s coming too, streaking the inside of Tom’s thigh as Ben pulls back on his hips with one hand and works the other around Harry’s cock. Harry lets Tom fall from his mouth and rolls away, breathing hard.

Tom stretches out alongside Harry, letting feeling seep back into his numb legs. He rests a hand on Harry’s chest. Okay? he wants to ask. Harry reaches a hand over his head toward Meredith, and Tom realizes she’s not there.

“That’s it for tonight.” Ben’s standing at the foot of the bed, stripping the condom off his still-stiff cock. Orgasm-drunk and still breathless, Tom can’t process the contrast between Ben’s words and his erection. As he lets his head fall toward Harry’s shoulder, he catches sight of Meredith, next to the bed, one knee resting on the mattress. It takes him a moment to connect the neat triangle of her bush with the realization that she’s shed her pajama pants.

“Take yourselves to bed, boys.” Meredith touches Harry’s shoulder. He opens his eyes, and immediately gets to his feet.

Tom’s left on the mattress alone, cold and abandoned. “What?”

“Come on.” Harry beckons to him.

“Why?” They’re all supposed to be recovering with him, piled into the bed warm and crowded and drowsy. Come back.

“Let’s go, c’mon.” Harry’s talking to him with the patient encouragement he’d use with Ruby. Tom pulls himself to his feet, confused and embarrassed. He looks to the floor for his clothes, but they’re gone.

“Got them,” Harry says, bundling shirt and shorts and sandals into Tom’s arms. He guides Tom toward the door with a hand on his bicep. Tom’s half tempted to dig in his heels like Ruby would. He looks over his shoulder. Ben’s on his back, pulling Meredith on top of him. He pushes at the hem of her tank top, and she crosses her arms to tug it over her head as his hands slide up to her breasts.

Harry reaches past him to pull the door closed, bumping Tom’s heels so he stumbles the last few inches out of the room. One of Tom’s sandals slips out of his hand. When it hits the floor, it takes him a moment to recognize the source of the thud. Harry picks it up and tucks it back under Tom’s arm. “Come on,” he says, again. His own clothes are wadded up in one hand.

Tom watches wordlessly as Harry pads down the hallway with the careful gait of the well-fucked. He’s still standing there, dazed, when Harry reaches the door to his room. He looks back at Tom. “Sleep in mine?”

Tom can’t think what else to do. He’s unsteady on his feet as he follows Harry, queasy with the hairpin turn from orgasm to eviction. In Harry’s room, he crawls gratefully under the duvet and curls onto his side. He’s still damp between the legs; he should have put on his boxers instead of mindlessly dropping them on Harry’s floor with the rest of his things. For all the motivation Tom has to get them, they might as well be in London. He stays where he is, eyes closed, trying to let his heart rate slow, while Harry cleans up in the bathroom.

He can’t believe it’s never occurred to him. Tom’s been having sex with them for weeks now, and somehow he hasn’t noticed that they never have sex with each other. Or never when he’s with them, at least. He thought they’d let him into their life, but he’s barely stood on the front porch. There are rooms and passages he’s never known existed, whole levels of intimacy he was never meant to see.

Tom thinks back, suddenly, to the first time Ben touched him. Got him off right there in the kitchen, his hands braced on the granite, exposed and wanting and desperately glad that the thing he could hardly believe was building among the three of them was finally bursting open. Meredith watched from the other side of the island with the corners of her lips tucked into a small smile. And then she’d kissed his cheek and said good night before she led Ben upstairs, sending Tom off to bed confused and elated.

He hadn’t understood then. He’s just an appetizer, a wholly optional accessory to whatever they have together. Him, and Harry? The scale in Tom head tilts back and forth, enviously weighing. What’s Harry been allowed that he hasn’t?

The light in the en suite clicks off. A moment later, Harry slides into bed. Tom watches his dim silhouette as he prods pillows into place, tucking one under his arm to sleep on top of. He sighs into it once he’s got everything arranged. The line of his body relaxes.

Tom’s never once asked Harry about the Winstons. Asking would be a concession that he cares, that it’s relevant, that Harry knows something he doesn’t. He’s never needed to know any of it badly enough that he’s been willing to ask. But it’s easier to ask questions in the dark, or else there’s finally something he can’t live without knowing. “So,” Tom starts quietly, half-hoping that Harry’s already passed out. 

“Hmmm?” Harry opens one eye, on the side of his face that’s not pressed into the pillow. 

“Has that ever happened before?” Tom asks softly in the dark. It’s too embarrassing to name it, to say out loud that he was dismissed, discarded.

Harry shifts so that his mouth’s not completely buried by the pillow. “Has what ever happened?”

Oh. A whole lot just happened. All Tom can think about is their banishment. It’s an effort to summon the memory of Harry caught between him and Ben, Harry’s forehead forced into his belly, the messy urgency of Harry’s mouth. Ben and Meredith are cheating him out of the hottest thing that ever happened to him. The latest hottest thing, at least. So many moments this summer have held that title fleetingly, barely long enough for Tom to knead at the memories before they got flattened by another night, another invitation upstairs, another pleasure he’d never even thought to fantasize about. This summer just keeps setting the bar higher. Tom sees the end approaching like a brick wall blocking a car chase in a film; no choice but to crash though full speed.

He’s got to say it now, even though Harry’s wary tone makes it harder. “Have they ever kicked you out before?”

“Oh,” Harry says, sounding relieved.

Tom remembers the sound of Ben’s hand connecting, and flushes at the realization of what Harry may have thought he was asking. “Yeah, that… not…” The last thing he wants to do is review Harry’s sexual resume.

“Um…”. Harry gives the question some thought, as if it might not have registered if Ben and Meri had cast him aside before. As if something like that wouldn’t even matter to him. “No, I don’t think so,” he says eventually, sounding unbothered.

Harry’s answer is actually the inverse of what Tom’s afraid of. If they’ve never kicked Harry out to have sex, there’s another possibility. “Have you ever seen them…”

“Sort of.” Harry laughs, sparing Tom the rest of the question. “There was one night, while I was sort of still living there, but I was supposed to be staying” – he pauses – “some place else.” Tom immediately wonders where that might be. “But I ended up coming home, and they were on the sofa…”

Tom waits, hungry for the story. Maybe this is how it started with Harry.

“I didn’t, like, see anything, but obviously I interrupted something.” Harry kicks at Tom’s ankle. “It was a little bit awkward at dinner for a few days.”

“Just, like, a roommate fuckup?” It’s so hard to picture Harry having roommates, the way Tom has roommates. Hard to imagine Harry, who takes up all the space in any room he enters, sharing space with anybody. Navigating the unspoken ways roommates pretend that there’s some semblance of privacy around everyone’s sex life. Making extra noise with the key in the lock when he comes home early; lining his bed up with a wall that doesn’t border George or Carl’s bedrooms; knowing when their class schedules will give him two hours with the flat all to himself. Tom imagines Harry and Ben and Meri arguing over who took the last of the milk and who’s going to do the dishes and who used somebody else’s bath towel to wipe up something nasty. “Not, like, with you?”

Harry’s response is puzzled. “No, why would they?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” He’s done everything with them, things he never even thought he’d want to. Why wouldn’t they let him in?

Tom rolls onto his back abruptly. He rubs at the stiffening streak on his thigh, flaking off Harry’s dried come. He can feel Harry watching him, one-eyed.

“It would be weird if they didn’t have some stuff that was just them,” Harry says after a while.

Tom stares at the ceiling silently, clinging to a position he doesn’t understand how to defend. The end of the summer seems perilously close, the brick wall filling his windscreen, no alleyways in his peripheral vision. He should have hit the brakes when he had the chance.

“I always used to get asked who my relationship role model was.” Harry’s voice is slow in the dark. “I’d always say Ben and Meredith. I like what they have. I wouldn’t want to, like, be in the middle of it.”

Relationship role models. Tom closes his eyes. He wonders if that was before or after Harry started fucking them. “That’s what you want?” 

“Sure.” Of course it is, of course that’s what Harry wants, Harry with his French girlfriend and his tongue in Meredith’s pussy, of course it is. A wife and a baby and a dog and the possibility of some dick on the side. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Not me.” It’s a clipped, emphatic end to the conversation. Tom wants what Ben and Meredith have, directly, a share of their life, not some hypothetical where he builds his own castles with an unfathomable future wife. Not any kind of future with a wife.

***

Tom’s finally trapped just the way he longs to be, belly down against the mattress, breath pressed into shallow gasps. Harry moves inside him without letting his weight off Tom’s back, small rolls of his hips that keep Tom pinned down and filled up.

He didn’t know to want this but it feels so good, Harry’s body heavy and close and warm, crowding him, constraining him. Tom ignores the faint sounds of Ruby crying in the distance. Just a little longer, he’s so close, she can wait just a moment or two.

The sheet under his nose smells of soap and vanilla and a musky tang that Tom recognizes as Harry, sex with Harry. He can’t move against the mattress under Harry’s weight; pressure more than friction filling his belly with warmth. Why is the baby crying, why now of all times, why can’t she give him just one more minute?

Harry’s slowing, fading. Tom spreads his knees out over the sheet, stretching his legs open for him. Just once more would be enough, he just needs Harry to slam into him once, hold himself deep inside, finish them both. Tom strains his hips back, and doesn’t meet any resistance. Harry’s gone, dissolved, and Ruby’s lonely cries are getting more insistent.

Why is he able to hear Ruby? Tom startles awake into a defensive curl. Pleasure evaporates into sickening adrenaline. His cock throbs painfully, and Tom recognizes the small mercy: Ruby’s kept his humiliating sex dream from turning into the waking nightmare of nutting all over Harry’s sheets. 

There’s no sound from Harry’s side of the bed. Tom waits before turning toward him, hoping desperately that he’ll find him deep asleep. He’d settle for plausible fake sleep, if it signaled an intention to pretend Harry doesn’t know anything about this. 

Ruby’s still crying, muffled but unmistakable through the thin walls of the old house. He wonders why Meredith hasn’t gone to soothe her yet. Maybe it’s harder to hear from their side of the hallway. Or, he thinks bitterly, maybe she and Ben are preoccupied.

Well, it’s not his job. Not now, not in the dark of the night. Ruby’s not his to tend to until tomorrow morning. Meredith can get her.

The mean satisfaction he feels at the idea of Ruby interrupting their night, forcing Meredith to leave Ben alone in bed, is immediately replaced by guilt. He can’t root for Ruby to come between them. And now that he’s awake, he can’t just lie here and let her cry, alone in the dark, far from home. It probably wouldn’t take much to get her back down. He could sleep in the bed in her room, if she wants company. It’s the right thing to do. Ben and Meredith will be grateful, maybe, that he let them sleep.

Tom slides out of bed slowly, trying not to disturb Harry, and then realizes that Harry’s gone. His stomach falls. What if Harry heard something, saw something, while Tom was dreaming? Has he been making noises, twitching his hips against the mattress? Did Harry guess what was happening inside his head and flee the room in horror? What if he’s back in Ben and Meredith’s room, telling them how he had to take refuge from Tom’s creepiness? He almost hides back under the covers thinking about it.

But that’s not fair to Ruby. He finds his boxers and t-shirt on the floor, and takes the few steps down the dark hallway to Ruby’s room. He opens the door slowly, so as not to startle her, and the dim glow from the nursery lamp spills out to greet him. The stars and planets cast by the lamp wheel slowly around the room, drifting bright spots over the empty crib. 

Harry’s standing at the window with his back to Tom. Ruby’s in his arms, her tears slowing to whimpers as Harry sways back and forth. He’s singing something to her, too low for Tom to tell what it is over the fuzz from the white noise machine. She lets her head fall into his neck. As Tom watches, frozen, a single star from the lamp traces a bright path over Harry’s bare shoulder.

Tom backs out of the room and keeps his hand on the doorknob, letting the latch slide into place slowly and soundlessly. He leans his shoulder against the wall. He can’t get any of it out of his head, not the heavy satisfying weight of Harry from his dream, not the image of Harry tender with Ruby in the starlight.

Only the fear of being caught in the hallway forces him to propel himself back to Harry’s room. It’s like walking through quicksand. He’s stepped beyond his limits into a hazard he didn’t know was there. Now it’s pulling at his ankles, climbing up his body, dragging him into depths he never had a chance to avoid.

[hot-tae-with-suga]

This Looks Bad || 3

Summary:  Taehyung and I were just horsing around, but someone took a picture, and now everyone thinks I’m cheating on my boyfriend Namjoon with one of his best friends. Which I’m not, because I don’t (let myself) think of Tae that way. And neither does Namjoon. Right?

Reader (1st person unnamed femme OC)/Namjoon/Taehyung

Idol AU

36.2K total || Rated M || Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3 || Masterlist

Genre: fluff / smut / angst with happy ending || Warnings: Misunderstandings, Failure to Communicate, Bisexual characters, Threesome, Smut 

Originally Posted 2019-03-29 

Thank you so so so much to my editor S, and my wonderful betas from the JAG discord (L, V, and D)

45 Days P.I. (10 days after deciding to give it a chance)

By the next Wednesday, I was a nervous wreck again. This time over my thesis defense, rather than the relationship issues that had been plaguing me for weeks.

I had prepared as much as I could, spending hours memorizing the smallest details of my results and analysis, and practicing answering potential panel questions with Namjoon on the phone. I knew I was as ready as I could be, but I was still pacing outside the door to the conference room when Joon and Tae arrived.

They each had hats, sunglasses, and masks on, which wasn't an unusual look for students, but they both had that confident air about them that drew onlookers’ eyes. Thankfully the mathematics building wasn't a particularly popular destination, so they were unlikely to be noticed.

Namjoon pulled down his mask and gave me a quick kiss, and Tae hugged me with a tight squeeze.

"We're not too late, are we? You haven't gone in already?" Namjoon asked, noting the empty seats that had been set up outside the conference room for participants to wait.

I shook my head. "No, you're just in time. The last student ran a little late and just got their verdict, so my panel just got inside to settle in. They should be calling me in-" I was interrupted by the conference room door opening and my advisor beckoning me inside.

"Are you ready?" she asked as I got closer, and I nodded. "And these two are with you?" Her eyebrows shot up when she realized who I had brought with me. She'd known I was dating Namjoon, but it had never really come up between us, as he hadn't had any reason to visit me on campus before.

The four of us walked into the room and Namjoon squeezed my hand tight before releasing it to take a seat with Taehyung at the far end of the long table, while my advisor and I went to the other end, where a podium had been set up. The panel for my thesis, 4 tenured professors from my and other local universities, plus my advisor, ignored the audience and turned to me, asking if I was ready.

The next hour and a half was a haze in my memory; I only knew it was tough but my nearly obsessive preparation had paid off. I was able to mostly answer every question, and my advisor smiled proudly by the time I was wrapping up.

Once my defense was concluded, I stepped outside with Namjoon and Taehyung so the panel could deliberate and make their decision. I was warned it might take as long as half an hour, or even more, so I returned to pacing the hall.

"Babe, don't worry! You did amazing in there," Namjoon assured me, grabbing me by both hands in an attempt to make me stop walking and start to calm down.

"Yah, noona, you sounded so smart. The guys in there looked super impressed," Tae added. "I didn't really understand what you were talking about, to be fair, but math has never been my strong suit."

"Statistics, Tae-ah," I corrected. "Not math. Well, kind of math, but also sometimes not really?" Between the two of them they pulled me over to the uncomfortable chairs and sat me down with one of them on each side, physically restraining me from getting back up or even from anxiously bouncing my leg.

The panel only deliberated for twenty minutes in the end, and we were all invited back in. We resumed the positions we'd occupied before we'd left, with them seated at the end of the table and me behind the podium.

As soon as I heard the words, "We have determined that you have passed this defense and you will be awarded your doctorate in statistical mathematics," the rest of what the panel chair was saying faded into static. I could see Joon's giant grin and my advisor's proud smile, so I knew he was complimenting me, but I couldn't hear it over the rushing in my ears.

I shook each of the panelists’ hands and thanked them for their time and effort. The last one in the line, Dr. Jeong, a man in his 40's who I had only met once when he was introduced as a member of my panel, stopped me as I moved toward the door. "Don't tell me you'll sneak out before introducing your guests, miss?" he said slyly, and I knew he must have recognized my boyfriends. They'd removed their disguises, since sitting in a stuffy room for an hour and a half was torture enough. Plus, it had made it easier for me to see their encouraging faces as I answered the panel's questions.

I bowed and made introductions, the eldest panelist in the room obviously unaware of exactly who Namjoon and Taehyung were to their endless amusement. My advisor quietly asked them for their autographs, which they added to the page she'd been using for notes during my questioning, a fact that I found strangely amusing.

"You must be very proud," Dr. Jeong said to Namjoon, nodding in my direction. "She's a compliment to your own impressive intellect. I was quite a fan of yours when you appeared on Problematic Man, you know."

The way he said it struck me as strange, and it must have done to Namjoon as well, as he replied with, "She’s smart enough for both of us. I might be able to solve a few problems on a silly game show, but her mind blows me away every single day." He spoke to the professor, but his eyes were on me. "I'm so proud and amazed by what she's accomplished, and most of the time I count my lucky stars that she's with a dummy like me." I smiled at his compliment, and we bid the panel goodbye and took our leave.

As soon as we were out of the hallway and headed for the main staircase, Namjoon started muttering as he put his mask back on. "Can you believe that guy? I was ready to punch him!"

I was shocked to hear him speak that way, as was Taehyung, both of us looking to Namjoon for further explanation. "What do you mean? Which guy? One of the panelists?"

"Dr. Jeong," Namjoon bit out. "I'm pretty sure he was trying to insinuate that I helped you with your thesis or something."

“Yeah, that guy was weird,” Taehyung agreed. “You’ve been working on the background for your thesis project since before you even met Joon-hyung.” He grabbed my hand and quickly kissed the back of it while we were still alone, giving me a proud smile.

I reviewed the conversation in my memory, shaking my head. "I'm sure he wasn't," I tried to placate them. "I think he was just trying to impress you by showing that he knew more about you than just your name, or something."

Namjoon put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer as we approached the doors out of the building. "If you say so, babe. Just, I dunno, don't take a position in his department, if he offers?" I rolled my eyes at his overprotective nature but nodded. "In any case, he continued, "we should celebrate. What do you say we all go out to dinner tomorrow night?"

Taehyung nodded eagerly, bouncing around us as we walked across the thankfully empty quad. "Yeah, let's go out! Maybe we can even go dancing after? We haven't been out in ages."

I rolled my eyes at his exuberance, but nodded. "Sure, if you guys are free."

47 Days P.I. (2 days after thesis defense)

The boys had an event scheduled the day after my defense, but they were able to clear time to take me out on Friday. I hadn't realized that Namjoon and Taehyung had intended to invite all the members of Bangtan, but I was delighted to celebrate with them all the same.

Having the whole group with us meant more security, but also more privacy since Joon had rented out the entire restaurant. Tae pestered all of us through the whole meal, trying to convince us to go out dancing once we were finished. Jimin and Hoseok both joined in his efforts, though Yoongi and Jungkook bowed out, claiming work and rest were more important.

The club we'd chosen for the night was getting crowded by the time we got there, so we mostly stuck to the VIP section we'd been given tables in rather than risking it in the writhing mass on the main floor. The six of us remaining ordered several rounds of drinks, and I lost count of the number of times we raised our glasses to cheer my success.

My head was spinning a bit, both due to the alcohol in my system and the way Namjoon and Taehyung were looking at me, making me squirm with anticipation. They both became bolder when we started dancing near the table, stepping closer to me and to each other, hands lingering on hips and shoulders, and heated glances all around. I was sure one of the members would say something, but when I looked they had all wandered down to the main floor and found dance partners of their own.

We danced and continued drinking for almost two more hours before I finally started whining about my shoes getting uncomfortable, and Namjoon gathered everyone to start heading home for the night. I was all set to grab a taxi back to my place, but Tae and Joon insisted I come back to the dorm with them, and I was too tipsy to disagree. We'd all switched to water before we'd left the club, but the heady floating feeling of the alcohol still ran through my veins. Tae was the closest to sober of any of us, his intense dislike of the taste of booze meant he went hard and fast at the beginning of the night but had stuck to soft drinks and water for the remainder of the evening.

"I'm kind of really looking forward to getting to sleep next to you again," I whispered in Taehyung's ear, the confession making me giggle. I was pressed between my two...suitors? Lovers didn't feel right when we’d hardly touched since our aborted surprise threesome, and while boyfriend was more accurate, it felt like it was too soon.

Tae turned his head and shot me a wicked smile, slowly easing his large hand onto my thigh and squeezing, slow enough to (hopefully) go undetected. I knew Joon had noticed when he mirrored Tae's actions, as well as leaning in to press an open mouthed kiss to my neck. It was all a bit overwhelming and made my head spin more than any amount of booze.

We finally reached the dorm building, and everyone piled out and shuffled upstairs. Hoseok reminded everyone to drink some more water before turning as we all said our good nights and made for whichever bed we were sleeping in.

As soon as the door to their bedroom closed behind us, both boys had their hands all over me. Namjoon reached for the zipper of my dress, but Taehyung pulled me against him before the clothing could slide off. His mouth slanted over mine, tongue demanding entrance as he kissed me so hard I nearly forgot to breathe.

"I've been dying to do that since last week," Tae confessed when he finally pulled away. "You have no idea how hard it is to know you want to kiss me but not be able to do it."

"Mmm," I hummed against his lips. "But it was certainly worth the wait."

Namjoon looked surprised. "You guys didn't even kiss after you talked? Taehyungie was looking so pleased with himself once we got back that I figured he'd at least made it to second base." I turned to swat at him playfully.

"Excuse me, weren't you the one who asked us to hold off because you wanted to be there?" I reminded him.

"Yeah, for the first time you fucked," he clarified, putting up his arms in self defense. "I didn't mean to put a hold on everything, I'm not the sex police."

I pouted. "Maybe it's for the best, I'm not sure I would have been able to stop myself once we got going."

"Mmm, me neither,” Tae admitted, looking a little guilty. He shook his head, as if to clear it. “We’re kinda drunk now, though…”

"I'm not that drunk," Namjoon insisted.

Tae rolled his eyes. "We’re all that drunk, Joon-hyung." I whined in protest; as much as the logical side of my brain agreed with his assessment, I had spent the entire night being intentionally seduced by these two men, and I was ready to pop.

Namjoon also made a noise of protest, his hands returning to the back of my dress and completely lowering the zipper before sliding his hands back up and pushing the straps off my shoulders. "Are you sure about that, Taetae?" he taunted his dongsaeng. "I think our girl needs a proper fucking." His hand followed the fabric of my dress as it slid down, past my bra and over my soft abdomen before resting over my panties. "She's so hot for us, so wet she's practically soaked through her panties."

I moaned, nodding my agreement with the direction Namjoon was trying to lure Taehyung. I reached up to tease my fingers over my own nipples, which were hard and pressing against the thin fabric of my undergarment. "A proper fucking is exactly what I need," I added. Tae groaned, balling his hands into fists and biting one to stifle the sound.

"I want to, you know how much I want to," Taehyung muttered. "So, so badly." He leaned forward to kiss me again, then pulled away and turned slightly to Namjoon, kissing him over my shoulder. I couldn't help the whimper I let out, I was too lost in my arousal to control it.

It was Namjoon's turn to groan in frustration. "Babe, those noises are just making it harder for me," he warned. I grinned and swiveled my hips back into him, feeling evidence of exactly how hard I was making it.

"Noona, pretty noona," Tae's words were sweet but his voice took a harder edge, beginning to sound a bit desperate. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

I looked up at the two of them, tall golden god-like mean who both looked back down at me with eyes darkened by lust. I wasn't sure if I should feel threatened or just aroused, but I licked my bottom lip deliberately before rolling my hips between them again.

Taehyung's hands gripped my hips and pulled me along with him as he walked backwards across the room, making me stumble as my foot caught on my dress, which had gathered around my ankles. I felt Namjoon reach down to disentangle me before following behind.

"I'm feeling a little underdressed here, guys," I commented, realizing I was down to my underwear while they were both still fully dressed. Once Tae reached the bed he'd been aiming for, he spun me around and used the momentum to push me down onto it. I didn't care which bed it was we'd landed on, only about the man crawling on top of me and laying a kiss onto my collarbone.

Namjoon hummed his approval of the younger man's move and pulled himself up onto the bed next to me. "I dunno, I'm a big fan of this look," he assured me, trailing fingers up and down my arm, leaving a path of goosebumps. I turned my head toward him and stared into his eyes until he got the hint and leaned forward to kiss me.

"Now," Tae said carefully, pushing himself up so that he could look at both Namjoon and I. "We’re all on the same page here, right? No one’s worried they’re being set up?"

I slapped at him lightly. "Ugh, don’t bring that up any more," I griped. "That has to be the least sexy threesome proposal ever."

Taehyung raised an eyebrow at me. "Hey, last time we were in this position you freaked out because our intentions were unclear. Just covering all my bases here."

"He has a point," Namjoon agreed, and earned another smack from me. "Hey, what's with all the violence tonight? You were never this prone to hitting me before."

"One annoying boyfriend, I could handle," I argued. "Two of them just makes me want to hit things."

Taehyung cleared his throat. "So, uh, is everybody on board? Do we need to grab some condoms or anything, or are we all clean?"

I shot him a look. "What happened to ‘we’re too drunk’, hmm?” I teased. He opened his mouth to answer, but I cut him off. "In any case, I'd really like to get off at some point tonight, and I think you and Joonie would too." I accompanied my bold words with caresses on their still clothed erections, Tae's with my knee and Namjoon's by twisting my torso to reach my hand to his. Both boys gasped at the touches, and Namjoon chuckled.

"That's my girl, straight to the point," ha laughed, giving me a quick kiss to the temple.

"Our girl," Taehyung corrected quickly.

I rolled my hips and arched my back, desperate to remind them of what we were supposed to be doing together on this bed. "Yes, well, your girl has one of the world's hottest men between her legs and another at her side, and she'd really like to suck one of their dicks, if they're interested," I whined.

True to their natures, Taehyung froze in place at my invitation and Namjoon sprang into action, undoing his belt and divesting himself of his clothing as quickly as possible.

"Yeah, babe, how do you want me?" he asked. I sat up, shifting so I didn't push Taehyung off of me entirely, and looked around. There was enough room at the far side of the bed for one of my favourite positions.

"Off the side?" I proposed, scooting myself across the bed until my head was hanging off the side, upside down. Namjoon scrambled to meet me, spreading his feet wide to as to line his cock up with my waiting mouth.

He lost his balance and fell forward a little, his impressive erection sliding across my face as his aim was slightly off. I looked to see what had distracted him and saw Taehyung undressing as well, peeling his designer clothes off carefully and laying them on the other bed for safekeeping. Once he was down to his black boxer briefs, he returned to us, smirking to see us watching his every move. It was like watching one of the large cat species, or a master at work, he knew just how to move, to angle himself, to maximize the impact he had. It was almost unfair (and would have been completely unfair if I hadn't known that body would be on top of mine again momentarily).

Tae looked me over, telling me, "Now you're the one who's overdressed," as he crawled back onto the bed and trailed those long fingers down my sternum, dancing around my belly button before teasing at the waistband of my silky panties. I was glad I'd made the effort to wear a cute matching set of underwear, even though I'd told myself I wasn't going to go home with them. Funny how a few drinks and heated looks will change a girl's mind.

Namjoon "helped" by trying to dig his hands under me and unhook my bra, until I reached up and arched my back in order to do it myself. He did peel it off of me once it was loose, while I was busy lifting my hips to wiggle my underwear down over them, so that Taehyung could slide them down my legs and toss them aside with far less care than he had for his own clothes.

My attention was drawn back to Namjoon, who was kneading my breasts excitedly, as he did any time they became bare in his presence. Exuberant massaging quickly became softer caresses, though, as he knew what I liked in order to turn me on even further. I moaned as he stroked his thumbs over both my nipples simultaneously, letting my head drop back down off the edge of the mattress, and once again faced his weeping cock.

There were several reasons I was particularly fond of this position, one of the biggest being that it softened my gag reflex enough for me to take Namjoon's entire cock down my throat. It was one of the reasons he was also a big fan, despite the awkward splits he had to do to get level with me; that, and the fact that he was able to play with my breasts while I sucked him off. It also left my hands free to play with myself, but this time there would be someone else available to take care of me.

"You have no idea how hot this looks," I heard Taehyung mutter as I reached over my head to pull Namjoon's hips closer, shifting to line him up with my mouth and finally slide his hardness past my lips. I moaned at the feeling, which I knew would make Namjoon thrust deeper and draw a grunt of some kind from him throat as well.

I did my best to concentrate on the task in front of me, but Tae's nimble fingers dipped between my legs, sliding easily due to the arousal slicking my thighs. "She's so wet, hyung," Tae commented. "And sensitive," he added when I twitched at the quick brush of his thumb over the hood of my clit.

Namjoon made a noise of agreement. "I think, between the dancing at the club, and feeling her up in the car, we worked her up real good." He was starting to build a steady rhythm of fucking into my throat, making him catch his breath every few words and reminding me that I needed to sync my breathing with his thrusts, though that was getting more difficult to do when Taehyung's ministrations between my legs had me gasping.

I was aching for those long fingers of his to make their way inside me, but Taehyung was taking his time teasing me, drawing figure-eights over my clit and trailing from there down to my perineum, even ghosting over my asshole a couple of times. It was so hard to keep still as I was twitching every time he hit a particularly sensitive spot, which was more frequently than I'd expected.

Perhaps it was due to the heightened emotions I’d experienced over the past few weeks, or even the alcohol still in my system, but I was beginning to think I'd been missing out during all those years of monogamy. Having two men, two wonderful and generous and talented lovers, concentrating all their efforts on me was nearly overwhelming. Feeling the stimulation to my aching pussy while Namjoon fucked my throat and continued to caress my breasts was driving me to my peak faster than I ever remember.

Taehyung's free hand slid over my collarbone and trailed over my neck, where I knew the bulge of Joon's cock was visibly distorting my throat. “That is so hot," Tae growled, his voice low and husky with need. "How is that so hot?"

"She takes my dick like a champ," Namjoon bragged, starting to pant and sweat from exertion. "Don't you, babe?" I couldn't move my head to nod so I moaned my agreement, which set off a chain of sounds from Namjoon and then Taehyung when he saw how his hyung reacted to the vibrations.

I arched my back and rocked my hips against Tae's hand, trying to encourage him. The hand between my legs, which had paused while he examined my throat, resumed it tortuous path through my arousal slickened folds. This time, however, instead of teasing around the edges, Taehyung finally slid one of his fingers inside me, making me moan again.

"So tight," he commented. "Fuck, you feel like heaven, noona. I can't wait to fuck you, I'm gonna fill you up so good, gonna make you come on my cock." I rocked my hips up against him again, trying to fuck myself on his hand. He took the hint and pumped into me a little faster, but not before adding a second finger and adjusting his angle so that his thumb was able to circle my clit while he moved.

I had lost control of the noises that tried to escape my throat, only to be muffled by Namjoon's cock still fucking it. His rhythm was beginning to falter and I used one hand to caress his balls, which I knew would bring him closer to the edge. "Fuck, babe, fuck- I'm gonna come. Where- Where do you want me?" he asked, as though I'd be able to answer him.

In reply, I used both hands to grab him by the ass and pull him closer to me once more, burying him as deep down as I could, my throat contracting around him in protest. He didn't come in that instant, but he was nearly there, and got the idea that I wanted to swallow all of him down.

He grabbed my upper arms and used the leverage for one, two, three, four more hard thrusts before I felt more than tasted his release. The loud groan he let out was also a good clue.

I started to be able to breathe through my nose as Namjoon's cock softened and I cleaned it off as best I could. I couldn't even properly catch my breath as Taehyung assaulted my pussy and my ears with the most delicious pleasure.

"Yeah, you did so well, noona, you look so beautiful taking his cock like that." The praise falling from Tae’s mouth filled me with pride as I shifted myself to the side a bit, in order to give my neck some support. He moved with me, never taking his hands off of me, still fucking me with his fingers and teasing my clit. He curled his two fingers up inside of me and hit that spongy spot that made me see stars. "You gonna come for me, pretty noona? Gonna come on my fingers and soak the bed, aren't you? I can't wait to be inside you, noona, I wanna be in you while Joon-hyung fucks your throat. Or maybe we should share this perfect little pussy, leave you wrecked after taking the both of us, you won't be able to walk the next day..." The patter of dirty talk continued, Taehyung describing everything he'd ever dreamed of doing to me while dragging me closer to ecstasy.

Namjoon returned, holding a shirt he'd pulled from the laundry basket and used it to wipe himself off, and I realized I'd never registered him stepping away. He nonchalantly reached over with his free hand to pinch one of my nipples and that pushed me over the edge.

My vision went white as a wave of pleasure originating at my core spread through my body in an instant, rushing down each limb and leaving a tingling sensation in my extremities. A wordless cry escaped my already abused throat.

I was able to bask in the sensation for a few seconds before the continued stimulation from Tae started making me twitch painfully. "Enough, please," I begged hoarsely. Taehyung smiled wickedly at me and redoubled his efforts, but Namjoon pushed his hand back.

"Overstimulation isn't her thing," he explained to his disappointed looking dongsaeng, who nodded and leaned back. Namjoon handed Tae the shirt he had used to clean up and Tae wiped his hand clear of my mess before pulling my thighs apart to give him more room to gently run the cloth over my sticky body.

I lay back and let him care for me, until I shifted my leg and brushed up against Tae's stiff cock, still trapped in his underwear. I sat up slowly, leaning forward until I was pressed up against him, running my hand over the hardness that was leaking a wet spot onto his black boxer briefs. "I think I owe you an orgasm," I said huskily. I wrapped my hand around the impressive girth and squeezed, making him shiver against me.

I moved to kiss him, but Namjoon leaned in to stop me. "I think you've each had a turn to get someone off tonight," he commented. "My turn now."

I gasped as Namjoon manhandled Tae away from me, laying him on his back and roughly pulling off his underwear. My eyes widened when I finally saw the cock I'd been squeezing. "You weren't kidding" I breathed, and both men turned confused looks at me. "That's a dick too good to waste," I supplied, making Taehyung roll his eyes and Namjoon only look more confused.

"Ignore her, I think you were saying something about making me come?" Tae encouraged his boyfriend.

I had to stop myself from squealing a little, realizing that Namjoon was also Taehyung's boyfriend, as well as my own. They were both my boyfriends and they were also each other's boyfriends. Which meant they were going to do boyfriend things together. Boyfriend things like give each other blow jobs, and it was totally okay if I watched and even got off on it, since they were my boyfriends.

None of the fantasies I'd ever had involving Namjoon's mouth (of which there were many) were anywhere near as hot as seeing it actually wrapped around Tae's cock. I laid back to get a better angle, unable to look away from the way Joon's soft lips stretched around it, how his tongue escaped from his bottom lip as he came back off of it, the string of saliva hanging from his mouth as be gulped down a breath.

Namjoon's hand continued to pump up and down Tae's erection, spreading the mix of pre-cum and spit over the entire length. "Talk about wet, baby," he teased. "You keep leaking like this, I don't even need any extra lube."

I wasn't able to deep throat Namjoon all the way unless I was in a position like I'd been in earlier to dampen my own gag reflex, and Taehyung was even bigger than Namjoon, so it was not surprising to see Joon use his hand to stroke the base of Tae's cock where his mouth couldn't reach. He was still trying to get as much of it as he could, though, backing off a couple of times until he gagged so hard he started coughing.

"Hyung," Taehyung cautioned, sitting up a bit and using one hand to push Namjoon's head up higher so he could look in his eyes. "Don't hurt yourself, okay?"

Namjoon allowed Tae to push him up, but kept one hand wrapped around Tae's dick, slowly stroking it. He rocked forward, pressing up against Tae's body until he had him pinned to the mattress, and kissed him deeply.

I don't think I will ever get tired of sights like that, of seeing them so intimate with each other, not only physically but emotionally, the warmth in their gazes as they pulled apart striking something inside me. Sure, it made my lady parts tingle, but it also did the same to my heart.

"I think I'm the luckiest woman in the world right now." I didn't realize I'd said the words aloud until they both turned to smile at me fondly.

As Namjoon resumed his position between Taehyung's legs, the younger man said, "Here I was thinking the same thing."

I quirked my head. "You think I'm the luckiest woman in the world, too?"

His sigh turned into a gasp as Joon took him in his mouth again. "You know what I mean," he whined at me. He cried out again at something Namjoon was doing with his tongue, reaching to fist his hand in the other man's hair while beckoning me closer with his chin. "Come here, I want to kiss you some more."

Kissing Tae severely hindered my view of him getting sucked off, but I was able to sneak a glance every time he broke away to praise or plead with Namjoon. It wasn't long before he was grunting at Joon that he was close.

"Hyung," he begged, tugging at Namjoon's hair. "Hyung, I'm gonna- Hyung, please I wanna come-" Tae cried out as he came, hips arching off the bed. Namjoon swallowed once, thickly, and again before allowing Tae's cock to slip from his mouth.

"Easier clean up," he reminded Taehyung. "You know I don't mind."

Tae grunted, sitting up and grabbing the soiled shirt to wipe himself off. "One of these days, I'm going to come all over your face before you expect it, hyung. And I'm going to take a picture. And frame it and hang it on my wall." Namjoon rolled his eyes, apparently accustomed to this point of contention between them.

"Whatever, you can dream about covering me in come some other time. Let's just get some sleep, we've done enough celebrating tonight." Namjoon stood, gave us each a kiss laced with the taste of Tae's cum, and walked to the other bed. He picked up the clothes Taehyung had left there and tossed them back towards us. I scrambled to join him on the clean dry bed, and Tae piled in after me (after making sure that his clothes didn't land on any of the wet spots).

I ended up in between them again, facing Joon with Tae clinging to me from behind. In contrast to the last time we'd been in this position, though, this time my heart felt settled and content, like things were finally where they were supposed to be.

48 Days P.I. (The next morning)

As I regained consciousness, I was significantly less comfortable than I had been going to sleep in the early morning hours. When we'd climbed into bed, I'd been warm, slightly tipsy, and basking in the glow of both physical and emotional satisfaction. Upon waking, I was faced with a pounding headache, gross sticky patches on my skin from the hasty clean up, and one boyfriend sprawled over half the bed, snoring loudly, while the other was trying to suffocate me with his body heat while grinding his morning wood against my ass.

"Ugh," I groaned, trying to extract myself from Tae's clutches and the mess of blankets tangled around us. Finally free, I stumbled around, pulling on a pair of soft sleep pants I kept in one of Namjoon's drawers and a clean(-ish) shirt from the floor.

I padded down to the kitchen, heading straight for the cabinet where I knew they kept a large bottle of painkillers, and was confused when I didn't see it in it's usual spot. I heard a rattle behind me and turned to find Jimin and Jungkook looking words for wear, shaking the bottle I'd been in search of. I hadn't noticed them when I walked in, too hungover to look away from my target, but they seemed to be after the same thing I was.

I accepted the bottle Jimin passed me with a nod of thanks and poured a handful of the little round pills into my hand. Grabbing a big glass and filling it with water, I took a couple of the painkillers and slid the rest into my pocket, to take back for Namjoon and Taehyung.

"I know why you're feeling it this morning," I nodded at Jimin, who looked cranky but adorably rumpled with his over-treated hair sticking out at all angles. "But what has you looking so haggard, Kookie? I thought you stayed home to get some rest." Jungkook's brown hair looked like he'd been running his hands through it all night and the bags under his eyes were shockingly purple.

The maknae grunted, running his hands through his hair again. "I haven't even been to bed yet," he admitted. "I didn't realize what time it was until Jimin-hyung got up." I nodded in sympathy.

"I'm surprised you're walking straight, noona," Jimin finally chimed in, a cheeky grin making his eyes disappear.

I tried not to let my shock show on my face, and tried to think of an innocent reason why I'd be walking funny. "What do you mean? My shoes weren't that bad, I just wanted to come home because I was getting tired."

Both boys laughed. "You know Taehyungie is, like, the loudest person in the world, right?" Jimin reminded me. "And, uh, neither you nor hyung were especially quiet either. These walls are pretty thin.”

I felt my entire face heat up at the implication. "Oh," was all I could think to say.

"Don't worry, noona," Jungkook tried to reassure me. "They told us that the three of you are dating or whatever." I wasn't sure how it was possible, but my cheeks started burning even hotter.

"Yah, you think Jin-hyung or Hobi-hyung wouldn't have teased you, the way you were dancing all over each other?" Jimin added.

I dropped into a crouch, covering my face, I was so embarrassed. I had assumed they'd all been too distracted to notice us dancing, but knowing that not only had they noticed, they'd known exactly what was going on, made me want to disappear.

"Hey, have you guys seen noona?" I heard Taehyung ask from the hallway. No one said anything, but they must have pointed to where I was because Taehyung's bare feet appeared in my field of view. "Noona, are you okay? Did you drop something?"

"No," I said, my voice muffled by my arms wrapped around my head. "I'm just trying to melt into the floor, leave me here to die in peace."

There was a moment of confused silence before Jungkook supplied, "She didn't realize that you'd told us about the three of you."

"Or quite how loud you all were last night," Jimin added.

I felt arms slide around me as Taehyung crouched next to me. "I'm sorry, noona," he apologized softly. "We should have told you that we told the members. We needed to do it before they found out on their own. I promise, we haven't told anybody else." I twisted to hug him back, and he pulled me up to my feet. "Imagine what you would have had to say about last night if they didn't know? You're not that good a liar." I let our a reluctant laugh and nodded into his chest. He hadn't bothered to put a shirt on, so my nose rubbed directly against his soft, honey coloured skin. I liked the sensation, so I nuzzled into him again.

Once I calmed down enough that I felt my face no longer resembled a tomato, I turned away from him and looked at the other boys. "You guys are okay with this? I mean, you don't think two of your members dating each other is going to affect the dynamics or anything?"

Jimin and Jungkook both shook their heads, looking amused. "Of course not. I mean, they've had their thing together for years, and it hasn't affected us. And, I mean, if you think those two are the only ones who've ever fucked-"

"That's enough!" Tae cut Jimin off with a shout, taking me by the arm and dragging me out of the room

"What? We've lived together for more than a decade, with little to no chance of having normal dating lives. We're all young, healthy, attractive men-" The words followed us as I was marched back toward the bedroom.

Tae turned to look at me as we reached the door, noting the dreamy look in my eyes. "Oh no you don't," he practically growled at me. "I know exactly what you're thinking, and I'd like to remind you that you already have two boyfriends to satisfy your every fantasy. Stop thinking whatever it is you're thinking."

***

The three of us went back to my place after we'd all woken up and grabbed showers, since apparently there was even less privacy at the dorm than I'd realized. We still needed to have a serious discussion about the burgeoning relationship between the three of us. We had probably crossed a line the night before, anyway, so the talk was long overdue.

Even though we'd all slept hard, I was exhausted, so I collapsed onto the couch as soon as we all filed inside. Taehyung thought this was a fine idea, so he fell on top of me, effectively pinning me in place. "Mmm, this couch is so comfy," he commended, wiggling and making me gasp in pain as all his sharp points managed to dig into my in the process.

"Let her breathe, please," Namjoon requested, settling into the armchair to watch Tae and I flail around until we were more comfortably seated.

I looked between their faces, my head on a swivel since I managed to take the seat between them. "So, who wants to go first?" I asked nervously.

"Um, do we need to take turns?" Namjoon seemed a bit confused.

I shrugged. "I don't know, I've never done this before. You guys sound like you know what you're doing, at least."

Tae chuckled. "That is...a gross over exaggeration of our competence in this area. I just know that from everything I've read about polyamorous relationships, communication and boundaries are very important, so we should start there."

Namjoon nodded, adding, "Yeah, and since not communicating has already gotten me in trouble, I want to make sure we're all on the same page."

"Well," I said thoughtfully. "We agree on the basics, I think. We're all equal partners in this, right? No primary or secondary partners?" They both nodded. "And both of you are my boyfriends, and you are each other's boyfriend and I am your girlfriend." More nods. "Okay, but what about publicly? We've been lucky that Namjoon and I are public, but I honestly think ARMY would riot if I was dating two of you."

"Yeah," Namjoon agreed. "I don't even know if we can let the managers know. The members do, of course-"

"Yeah, thanks for telling me that, by the way," I interrupted.

"Sorry, babe!" he apologized quickly before continuing. "We thought it best to tell them, in case they caught us or something. So they wouldn't think anybody was getting cheated on."

"No no, I get why," I replied. "I was just a bit embarrassed, especially when I realized they, uh, could hear us last night."

"Yeah, sound carries pretty well in there," Tae said with a shrug. "We're used to it though, we mostly don't mention anything we hear and the others do the same."

"Babe?" Namjoon asked suddenly. "When's your graduation?"

I was a little surprised by his abrupt question, but answered, "Early next month. Why, do you want to introduce Tae to my parents? They'll be coming for the ceremony, but I'm not sure they're ready for their daughter to be dating another idol..."

He shook his head. "Not that. There were just some other things we were gonna talk about after you graduated."

Tae looked confused when I gave Namjoon a sharp look. "Oh? Sexy things?"

I shook my head at the same time Joon said, "Very sexy things, at least I think they are."

"Namjoon," I whined. "Not the time."

Ignoring my objections, Namjoon told Taehyung, "She made me promise to wait until after she graduated to talk about her moving in to my apartment. And to talk about when we can start a family."

I watched Tae's eyes widen and said, "See, Joonie, it's too soon! We should at least wait until we have this whole new relationship thing figured out before we start talking about babies."

Namjoon smiled when Taehyung started shaking his head. "No no, please let's talk about babies," the younger man encouraged. "I'm thinking four or five. Probably an even number so we can each be bio-dads to the same number, so four or six then. Ooh! Can we name one Chi?" My shoulders dropped and I shook my head.

"Never count on Tae to be on the anti-baby side of an argument," Namjoon reminded me in a stage whisper. "He's been wanting kids since before he could grow facial hair."

I looked back up at them and smiled at the joke, but I wasn't ready to let the argument go just yet. "Guys, I haven't even graduated yet, I don't have a job lined up. I didn't go to school for so long to earn a doctorate just to quit and be your...baby factory. I'm not stay-at-home-mom material, or kept woman material for that matter."

Tae wrapped one arm around my shoulders and squeezed me close. "No, noona, I wouldn't want that for you. I just can't help but get excited about the idea of our future together."

"Moving in to my place isn't about you being a kept woman," Namjoon argued. "My place is closer to our dorms, in a better neighbourhood, and has better security. It's more for my peace of mind than anything else." He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his lap, wrapping his strong arms around me. "And we don't have to start a family right away, I just want to be able to talk about it. You didn't want to discuss it when I first brought it up because you were so focused on school, but now I want to be able to start planning."

After a moment of silence, Tae asked, "So, you guys were talking about talking about having kids...were you talking about getting married, too?" The look on his face worried me, so I moved off of Namjoon's lap and cuddled back up to Tae.

"No, Taetae, we talked about it ages ago and neither of us have ever felt the need to actually get married just to prove we're committed to each other," I said with a smile at Joon. "We're both people of our words. And it feels unfair that we'd be able to do something that is denied to so many other couples in the country, just because we happened to fall in love with someone of the opposite gender." When Taehyung's expression didn't change, I climbed into his lap and beckoned Namjoon to join us on the couch. "Besides, at this point I don't think either if us would get married without you being part of it."

"Right," Namjoon confirmed, sliding his arm behind Tae and hugging him. "Especially now, I wouldn't want to get married unless it was to both of my partners."

"I don't want you to deny me," Tae said quietly, pivoting back to the earlier focus of our conversation. "We don't have to tell anybody that we're all together, that's none of their business. But I don't think I'd be able to stand it if I read somewhere that you said you're not dating me."

Namjoon and I exchanged a look, but he was the first to speak. "Sure, we can find something to say if we get asked. Like, 'we are in a happy and healthy relationship', or like, 'we have a great relationship with Taehyung' or something. Something true, even if it doesn't tell the whole story."

Tae seemed to brighten at the thought. "Yeah, that would be better than flat out lying, at least." He sighed again. "I just...I don't want to feel like I'm the third wheel in your relationship. You guys have been together for years now, talked about having kids and how you don't want to get married, and now I'm just- Our relationship is so much newer, and we aren't really ready to be talking about those kind of things yet."

Both Namjoon and I hugged him tight, squishing him between us. "The romantic side of our relationship might be new, but it's not like we haven't had any relationship up until now," I pointed out. "You've probably been my best friend for these years I've been with Namjoon, and I mean, you guys have been together for ages, longer than I've been around." I swallowed, ready to admit my insecurity. "I mean, how am I supposed to compete, physically, when you two literally live in the same room and can be with each other all the time?"

Namjoon spread his arms further to envelop me in the hug along with Tae. "Don't worry about that, babe," he assured me. "If we're too tired or busy to come visit you, we're too tired or busy to do anything with each other."

Taehyung nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and we can, like, call you or something if we do," he offered. "Just, like, so you know it's happening?"

I chuckled at that idea. "I don't want to police your sex life, either," I said. "You shouldn't have to ask permission to be intimate with your partner. I just...if I start feeling like you're not sexing me up because you're already getting enough from each other, I'll say something."

"Promise?" Joon prompted.

I nodded. "I promise. And Tae-ah, you promise to let us know if you're feeling like a third wheel?" He nodded his agreement.

"And I promise to let you know if I start feeling like an old toy you're both done playing with now that you have each other," Namjoon added. I saw the shy sincerity in his eyes. "That's my current biggest relationship-based fear."

I hugged both men close, giving an extra hard squeeze before releasing them and relaxing into the arm of the couch behind me.

"So, just so we're all on the same page, sex doesn't have to be reserved for when all three of us are present, right?" Tae clarified. Both Namjoon and I nodded. "I figure unless someone starts feeling left out, we can just go with the flow."

I added, "I do want to make sure to have time alone with each of you, though. I love all of us together, but we had one-on-one time before, and I don't want to lose that."

"You won't feel left out because Tae and I get a lot more time together?" Namjoon asked softly.

I shook my head. "I think its a bit different with the two of you, since you've lived and worked together for so long," I admitted. "Oh, but the tour is going to be pure torture for me. You two will have each other, and I'll be back here by myself."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Joon promised.

Taehyung looked curious. "Well, what did you do before, other than the sappy love letters? Lots of phone calls and FaceTime and sexting?" His face lit up with a new idea. "We haven't even talked about kinks! What are the two of you into? Do you have any hard stops? I mean, I'm willing to try pretty much anything once-"

Tae was cut off as both his and Namjoon's phones rang almost simultaneously. They each scrambled to answer, Tae informing the person on the other like that Namjoon was talking to Sejin and they could all talk on speaker.

"Okay, have you guys checked your SNS yet today?" Sejin asked once he confirmed both of them were on the line. Both Namjoon and Taehyung confirmed that they hadn't been online yet. Sejin sighed. "Alright, you guys have managed to create the same scandal twice. Someone had a camera at the club last night, which you didn't tell me about going to but we'll get to that later. Anyway, there's another picture of Taehyung and your little girlfriend grinding on each other, Namjoon-ah. We're doing our best to kill the story, but..."

Sejin went into the details of the lengths they were going to and the money they'd have to spend to cover up this new picture, but I tuned him out and went searching for myself. It wasn't hard to find, the picture was all over Twitter, but something about it looked off to me.

"...I don’t think you'll be able to just brush it off this time, you're going to have to break up with her and make a public statement-" Sejin was saying when I cut him off.

"Sejin-ssi? Look for the whole picture," I advised. The man on the line sputtered a bit, apparently unaware that I had been listening as well. "Yeah, whatever, hi. I don't think you'll have to bury this one, jut change the angle. Find the whole picture, cause the one being spread is obviously cropped to cut out Namjoon, who was dancing right behind me. The three of us were dancing all night, there's nothing noteworthy about me and my boyfriend dancing with a friend, is there?"

Namjoon grinned, the darkness and worry that had threatened his expression melting away. "See, Sejin, I told you it's better to keep her around. I guess the three of us are just going to have to go out together a lot, and remind the public what good friends we are."

He squeezed my hand and I squeezed Taehyung's. We'd done this once before, we could do it again.

[Several months later]

I rushed to pack up my computer and shove it into my bag as I wrapped up class. "Remember," I spoke loudly. "No office hours on Thursday, I've got some personal business to take care of."

A few students nodded in my direction, but most of them were already filing out of the lecture hall. I'd have to send an email reminder, though even with that I was sure I'd get at least one annoyed message asking where I was. Teaching first year stats was a thankless job, but I was paying my dues as the newest member of the faculty, only hoping that someone else would be hired next year and it would be their turn.

One of the more engaged students, fresh out of high school with the glimmer of hope still shining in his eyes, approached my desk. "You haven't missed office hours all year, Professor," he said respectfully. "I hope it's nothing serious."

I smiled as I wound the cord of my charger around the power brick. "Honestly, it's not. Its just that my partners' coming home from a long overseas trip and I want to spend some time with them." Thankfully none of my students has yet to connect the dots between their nerdy professor and the woman who was dating Kim Namjoon, leader of the biggest boy band in the world. I could only hope they never did. I waved goodbye to the young man, who looked a little disappointed in my answer, and rushed toward the office I shared with two other younger faculty members.

Once I finally made it back home, I nervously started checking everything I'd set up before I left for campus that morning. I changed from my more formal teaching wear (intentionally chosen to make me look as little like an idol's girlfriend as possible) into a pretty sundress since it was still warm enough to get away with, and even prettier underwear. I knew it wasn't likely to stay on long, but I wanted my boys to know how excited I was to see them.

The apartment Namjoon owned was much bigger than my student housing had been, which meant we had space for a giant oversized bed in the master and a cozy office/library/mini studio in the second bedroom. I'd moved in not long after graduation, finally agreeing that all of their arguments had merit. I did pay rent, probably nowhere near as much as the place was worth, but while I was technically the only person who called it home, the boys were constantly staying over unless schedules interfered.

I had worried, at the beginning, about how Taehyung would adjust to spending so much time away from the other members, knowing how much he loved and depended on their constant company, but he claimed he got enough of that while they worked, and he almost always had Namjoon around when he was staying over with me, so I stopped asking. Admittedly, it gave me hope that at some point, they would actually move out of the dorms and we could live together for real.

They were headed home from almost two months away, though, so I wasn't thinking about moving in together, I just wanted to see them again. Eight weeks was a long time to wait, and it had taken both of them to convince me not to join the throngs of fans who greeted them at the airport. The claimed it would be a recipe for public indecency, so I awaited their arrival at home.

A burst of noise at the front door had me scrambling out of the office where I'd been grading some tests, and running toward them. I threw myself at the first one in, which happened to be Taehyung, and jumped into his arms. He laughed and spun me around, kissing me senseless before releasing me so Namjoon could give me similar treatment.

"What took you so long?" I asked as soon as my mouth was free again. "Your flight landed ages ago."

"Had to drop off our stuff at the dorm, and then Manager-nim was there so we couldn't immediately run off," Taehyung explained. I nodded, knowing that while the managers wouldn't bat an eye at Namjoon rushing off to see me as soon as he landed, it would raise eyebrows if Taehyung went with him. There were already enough rumours about the three of us that the managers had been watching very closely for any hint of truth to them. The other members had been invaluable in helping to throw them off the scent.

Taehyung grabbed my hand and pulled me in the direction of the bedroom, dragging Namjoon along since he was holding my other hand. "How was your trip, are you tired?" I asked in a rush. I was so ecstatic to be with them again; it was the longest the both of them had been away from me since we all started dating, and I was feeling a bit needy, unable to let go of their hands.

"I slept on the flight," Tae assured me, waggling his eyebrows. I checked behind to make sure Namjoon was also feeling rested, and he just smiled. "I don't need any more rest, I need my noona."

My heart and my worry melted, making way for the deep feeling of want that had been bubbling under the surface to come to the forefront of my mind. Being away from them for so long had begun to affect my sanity, so I made no move to protest when Tae collapsed onto the bed and pulled me with him, causing me to let go of Joon's hand.

A moment's kissing quickly turned hot, and soon my mouth was parting from his to follow a trail down his neck and across the sharp points of his clavicle, left exposed by the deep v neck of his shirt. I began fumbling at the buttons, trying to expose more of his skin to my touch.

Taehyung's deep chuckle shook the chest I was pressed against. "Feeling desperate, noona?" he teased. "Did you miss us that much? We sent you lots of pictures to keep you company."

At the mention of the pictures they'd sent, I moaned and changed my focus. Leaving his shirt as it was, rumpled and half undone, I instead backed off the bed and began working at undoing his pants.

I glanced back to check on Namjoon, who had followed us into the bedroom and taken what had become a familiar stance, seated on the cushioned seat of the big bay window. Rather than the jealousy he had feared he'd experience at seeing Taehyung and I together, he'd instead discovered a rather powerful voyeur kink that we had learned to exploit to the fullest. I had found it incredibly convenient that the quickest way to turn on one of my boyfriends was to seduce the other; it made requesting threesomes very efficient. Namjoon gave me a knowing smile with our eyes met, raising an eyebrow as though challenging me to get on with it.

Get on with it, I did, quickly loosening and removing Tae's pants, followed by his black boxer briefs, finally releasing one of the dicks I'd been missing so badly the past eight weeks. "You guys were so mean to me," I complained, leaning over him and running my hands over the tops of his thighs, his hips, everywhere around the base of his cock without actually touching it. "That last video you sent, the one of Joon blowing you? I haven't been able to think of anything else since."

"Noona, that was like, four days ago," Tae moaned. He ran his own hands over his chest and torso when he finished taking off his shirt on his own. When I didn't reply, He angled his head up and looked at me, "Well, now's your chance then. Didn't you want to get a taste yourself?"

I glared at him, but finally wrapped my hand over his erection and stroked it a few times, the precum already leaking out of the tip easing the friction. "Don't get cocky," I warned before licking up the length and sliding my mouth around the tip.

Taehyung's moans and the slick sounds of my mouth were the only noise in the room for several minutes. He wound one hand into my hair, setting a pace he liked and encouraging me to take him deeper with each subsequent thrust. It was a trick he'd picked up from Namjoon, who delighted in sharing all the little things he'd discovered that turned me on, from subtle acts of control like the hand in the hair to the best places to kiss me get get me wet in an instant. In turn, Tae had pushed my boundaries even further than Namjoon had ever dared, striking our own power balance between us.

It hadn't been all sunshine and roses, of course, once we'd officially become a poly triad. Negotiating the new dynamics had taken time, communication, and a lot of patience. We were desperate for each other after the long separation, but I knew that it was likely to bring up old issues, and new ones, between us. That, however, was a problem for the future. I had my boys back with me, and dammit I was going to get thoroughly fucked.

Tae's hand pushed me down far enough to make me gag, and I made a choking noise as tears sprang into the corners of my eyes.

"Careful with our girl, Taehyungie," Namjoon warned, and I could tell he'd moved from the window by the direction of his voice. "Don't want to hurt her on our first day home."

I backed off of Tae's cock long enough so say, "It's okay, I'm all good," before returning to the task at hand. Namjoon's large palm rubbed my back as I bent over Taehyung, but it soon descended over the curve of my hips and tugged my skirt up enough to slip between my thighs.

Joon hissed when he felt the dampness of my panties. "Babe, is this because you missed us? Or because you love sucking his cock that much?" I moaned a response, not really an answer, but that's because I didn't know which it was myself, only that I was absolutely dripping and desperate to get fucked.

Thankfully, Namjoon seemed to be on board with my unspoken idea, pushing my skirt up above my waist where it wouldn't impede his view and ran his hands over my pink lace covered ass. "So fucking gorgeous," he murmured before sliding the panties down just far enough for gravity to pull them down to my ankles where I had to blindly step out of them if I wanted to spread my legs any further. Namjoon's attention was back between my legs, his fingers now covered in my slick arousal and teasing at the sensitive flesh there.

"I can't wait to be inside you, babe," he admitted. "I haven't fucked anything other than a hand or a mouth in way too long, I need to be inside your tight pussy." Dirty talk was something he'd picked up from Tae, and I can't say I minded. Hearing their deep voices telling me exactly what they wanted to do to me only served to turn me on further every time.

He wasn't exaggerating about his need to be inside of me though, as I felt the blunt tip of his cock pressing into my entrance moments after his fingers moved away. Settling his hands on my hips to steady them, he began fucking into me with a slow deliberate rhythm.

The pace Namjoon was setting was still slow enough to be able to continue blowing Taehyung, but the drag of his cock over my g-spot was making me cry out each time. I pulled off of Tae, breathing hard and grunting with every thrust Joon made.

"Damn, hyung," Tae cursed. "How is it that I am getting sucked off my the most wonderful girlfriend in the world, but I am still jealous of our boyfriend?"

I could head the satisfied grin in Namjoon's voice as he replied, "Yeah? Here, I have an idea." He pulled out of me, and a whimpered at the empty feeling.

I stood up straight, waiting to hear what Namjoon's idea was. In addition to his voyeuristic tendencies, sharing the bedroom had revealed a different facet of Joon's desire for control. He was the one who suggested activities and specific positions, which Tae and I were usually eager to comply with. He wasn't forceful in the way Taehyung could be with me, but he always exuded this aura of power that was hard to ignore (and amazing to follow).

"Babe, you lay down like Tae was," Namjoon indicated, and I moved to do so, squeaking when he stopped me to pull my dress off entirely. He had me lay down on the bed one way, then changed his mind and moved me so that my head was on the pillows at the head of the bed. He grabbed a couple extra pillows and put them under my hips, and I started to get the idea of what was coming. Taehyung was directed to join me, and he braced himself on his knees to line up with the angle Joon had put me at.

Namjoon took in our positions, then said, "Okay, Taetae, now fuck her like you mean it." Tae smiled down at me and did just that, filling me with his generous length and making me moan in appreciation.

Joon grabbed a bottle of lube from the dresser and tossed it on the bed before climbing up behind Taehyung. At the first touch of Namjoon's slicked finger against his hole, Tae paused his thrusts until encouraged to continue.

"Fuck Tae, did you prep?" Namjoon moaned, finding Tae already slicked and loose.

"What else was I supposed to do while we waited for Manager-nim to leave?" Tae teased in return, winking at me. The sloppy sounds of Namjoon adding extra lubrication joined the slap of Tae's body against mine, Tae alternating between telling me how good if felt to be inside me and begging Namjoon to just fuck him already.

"Hyung, please, it's been so long," he pleaded. "Two months, hyung, because we promised we wouldn't but please don't tease me any more I need to feel your cock inside me." The way he whined only went to demonstrate how much they'd missed this part of their relationship.

It had been one of the rules, while they were on tour, that they could get each other off, but only with hands and mouths. I hadn't been the one to suggest it, but they felt so guilty about being away from me together for so long that they'd placed their own restriction. Anal may have not been a huge part of their relationship in the past, but once they'd started to explore it within our triad where they had more time and space to enjoy it, they'd both confessed that it was one of their favourite things to do together. Tae was more likely to be the one begging to get fucked, but Joon still couldn't resist the allure of having Tae's giant cock inside him occasionally.

I was certainly reaping the benefits of having Tae inside me, with each stroke glancing against that special spot and making me see stars. I was barreling toward my peak and Joon hadn't even started fucking Tae yet.

"You just gonna play with his ass all night?" I demanded, not wanting to come too early and risk over stimulation if Taehyung wasn't finished yet.

Namjoon chuckled as he finally got into position, using one hand to bend the younger man forward so that Tae's chest was pressed to mine and the other to guide his cock into Taehyung's eager little hole. His hands now gripped Tae's narrower hips and it was Tae who had to find the rhythm between the to partners he was pleasuring.

It was almost like a collapse and expansion, Namjoon's thrust cascading into Tae's which only pushed him into me with more force, and then the slow retraction of them both. This position did not lend itself well to fast frantic fucking, but the power behind it more than made up for the slower pace. It was fascinating, watching Taehyung fall apart between us, each thrust making him shudder and moan. I saw the signs of his impending orgasm, and stopped trying to hold off my own, concentrating on letting the feeling build with in me.

I was nearly there, the edge of pleasure in sight when Tae grunted that he was close. "Inside me," I begged him. "We're safe, please I want to feel you come inside."

I was on birth control, and had no plans of stopping any time soon. The two of them had bugged me repeatedly about when we would start trying, or at least stop preventing, but I'd shot them down. Once I explained that I didn't want to risk having a baby when the two of them were only a year apart and the chances of them being enlisted at the same time were actually fairly high, they stopped asking. I knew it was still something they each thought about, especially any time we were out together and saw a baby or a small child; Namjoon had even bought a pair of ridiculously expensive baby shoes as "decoration" for his studio. But we were still young, we had plenty of time for those things down the road.

Luckily I was able to come just before Taehyung did, or maybe the feeling of me coming around him is what finally pushed him over the edge. Namjoon continued fucking Tae, who actually enjoyed the over stimulation, holding him up when he nearly collapsed on top of me. Joon had always said that seeing and hearing us come, knowing we were experiencing pleasure, was one of the things that got him off, and sure enough he followed soon after we did.

Namjoon stepped away to grab a couple washcloths and returned to find Taehyung still smothering me. Joon cleaned up Tae's backside before helping me to roll him off and wiped down his front, murmuring praises and words of affection as he did so. Once I felt like I wouldn't make a mess, I pulled on a robe and grabbed some water from the kitchen. Upon my return, I saw the two of them already cuddled together, their eyes closed despite their assurances earlier that they were well rested.

"Welcome home, my loves."

Previous (Part 2)