#its more of like a pick and choose kind of attitude towards science

[harveylikestoart]

*makes a dndads oc because its cool* in my motw au, they made a love “potion” on valentines day and caused chaos :)

Uhm, ya idk he just thinks alchemy is chemistry even though it makes their grades worse. They wanna be a mad scientist fr

[twst-campos13]

ah hello!! i'm literally so excited to see a blog for enby and male readers sodjfoijf,,could i maybe request a scenario where male reader is a staff member (idk?? like a librarian?? a nurse??? do they need nurses over there???) and is crushing on crewel but is too scared to confess because he's both Too Dense to pick up any signs of potential reciprocation and also just isn't sure if crewel likes men??? maybe. maybe with a happy ending though because i am a fool,, thank you very much!!

One hopelessly cheesy scenario coming up!! Thank you for requesting! I hope you don’t mind I made reader a librarian who may or may not be a bit of a romantic because i listened to a particular playlist while writing this- (commentary in notes!)

Warnings: none! Tags: male!reader, fluff!

A simple man such as you live a simple life. As simple as life can be in Night Raven College, that is. A prestigious school that holds a student body that can barely tolerate each other. It would be typical for a librarian to be the observer than the observed, but hey, if it means getting out of trivial matters of the school and enjoying the show in your personal bubble, then you have no complaints.

This attitude of yours did come to have its own consequences. You were seen as timid by most students as you were quite closed-off, taking it as a reason to poke fun at you sometimes. You proved them wrong when they step out of line with their fun. Most of the time you choose to ignore them. However, you lived up to your introverted nature, especially when it comes to him.

Tall, dark, and handsome. Approachable but also not at the same time. Sharply dressed and sharp attitude. This man that visits the library ever so often had become your daily motivation to keep on working at this school despite the wage that Crowley gives you.

Divus Crewel, feared and admired by staff and students—also known as the man who stole your heart.

You feel so small compared to him. That would not be so farfetched. He is a remarkable man, and what about you? You are just a librarian at this school. You are like mere dust to him.

Yet, despite this, you continued yearning for him no matter how ridiculous it seems. Perhaps you have fallen too deep in romantic fiction that you make hopeless wishes. You are known to be excellent in reading people but for some reason, you find it hard to read Divus. His perfect posture whenever he would scan the Applied Sciences aisle showed that he is focused on his reading. However, it is his expression you find hard to decipher. He looks dashing as ever, of course, but his thin lips and neutral gaze makes it hard for you to know what he is thinking.

If your life is a novel it would be so easy to know what runs in his mind. What he feels for you. Maybe he could even know what you feel for him. In a story, what makes characters likable is knowing what their emotions, their feelings, their ambitions, and their dreams are, for they are already laid out in ink on pages. Implicit or explicit information, simple or complex structure of personality, it does not matter. You would easily know about them for they are just sentences away from understanding.

And in romance novels…oh, how dreamy they are. How easy they make it seem to fall in love, to confess, and to achieve a happy ending. However, as a librarian, you know the reality of your situation. Your relationship with Crewel is a professional. Strictly, if you were to add an adjective. Is it really strictly professional? Your right brain points out the moments in your life where you interacted with him. At faculty meetings, reunions, at the library…moments like those just feel surreal you almost believed that you made those up on your own. Probably because you initiated each of those interactions yourself.

The only time, where Crewel would come to you himself, are rare. One time he came to the library and checked out a book to read in his spare time. His voice distracted you. It was like cherry wine. Sweet, smooth, enough to make your throat dry and your cheeks flushed. Oh, you could listen to him talk for hours in that tone of his, and he could even make you do anything he pleases.

You greet each other good morning or good afternoon when you pass by each other, and he would smile a teasing one at you as if you two shared a secret with each other. Well, technically you did, for one time you bought him coffee under the pouring rain, and he repaid you for your kindness. Soon enough your coffee exchange became a routine for both of you. It was sweeter than the cream in his coffee. It was more refreshing than the rainy day you shared with each other.

His gaze. His posture. His voice. His smile. Despite those small interactions with each other you are still troubled by what he thinks of you. A friend? A colleague? A special someone? Why is this so hard? Why was it so easy to fall in love? And when things could not get worse for you, your left brain argued that he might not be interested to mingle with a man.

Well, you could find out for yourself, but that would be creepy. Your workspace is in the library! You could not just leave when you please just so you can observe him. You could not use the staff files to your advantage—that is being a borderline stalker. Whatever Crewel’s orientation is, is his to keep and his to disclose to you. Oh, but still. If this were a novel, you could easily analyze the situations that give off evidence of him liking men. Or liking someone like you.

If that were the case you would not have a hard time trying to decipher his words, his gaze, his tone, and his actions towards you. If that were the case…if that were the case…then…well, there’s no then. Divus Crewel is not a fictional character to analyze. He is your coworker, your colleague.

It is hard to know what he thinks of you, at all. You really wished that you could…but the thought of knowing what he thinks to scare you, as well.

Rejection is not that far from reality. Who are you compared to him again? A nobody. A simple, ‘timid’, librarian that enjoys reading romantic and fiction novels and inserts himself in scenarios he makes up for himself just so he can…find the happiness he wishes to have.

But Divus is your happiness. Became your source of happiness. Ironic how he colors the muted floor of the library with his monochromatic appearance. Maybe it is better that you keep your feelings to yourself. You avoid the risk of rejection and humiliation as well as ruining whatever it is your current relationship with Crewel is.

You barely registered the visitor in front of your desk until a familiar red leathery gloved hand rested atop of yours. The contact of the leather sent a spark of electricity through you that you snapped your head up to meet alluring silvery blue eyes. There is only one person in this college that owns those distinct, beautiful, silvery blue eyes.

Divus.

“Have I interrupted your moment of peace, sir?” He asked in that cherry wine voice of his. It made your throat dry up and your face warm. “N-No—no!” You squeaked, shaking your head to brush off the embarrassment. Quickly, you fixed your composure and appeared presentable. As presentable as you could be under his stare that is. You just hope that he found some amusement in your haste. “D-Div—Mr. Crewel, what can I do for you?” You smiled as you speak in a professional tone. The edge of his lips curled into a familiar smirk and still you could not determine what was running through his mind at the moment.  

“I came to return the book I borrowed last week,” he said, placing down the novel on your desk. Sense and Sensibility. Jane Austen. Right, he borrowed that last week. It is not your place to judge whatever it is he desires to read. “Of course,” you nodded, “did you enjoy reading it?” You started on a small talk as you take out your logbook for the check-ins and outs of books. “Somewhat,” Crewel shrugged, “I had my eyes set on another book I would like to borrow.”

“Oh? What is it? I’ll go get it for you.” You stood up after sliding the logbook back to its drawer. Crewel did not leave from where he was standing. His eyes were simply on you. You had to hide your nervousness under his gaze. “I had my eyes on it ever since that rainy day, when you offered me shelter in the library until the rain passes,” he mused. “General fiction, I believe, was the genre.”

“If that’s the case then you better tell me the title,” you joked, taking a stool to the genre’s aisle. “Are you certain you can find it?” Crewel coolly challenged. You almost laughed but did not fight the smile on your lips. “Mr. Crewel, I spend most of my time in this library. I know every book and I still have the Dewey Decimal system memorized…” You kept your eyes distracted by scanning the spines of the books on the shelves. You are aware that he is still looking at you that is why you refused to look back at him. You are not sure what will happen if you look back at him while conversing.  

“If that is the case—” why does he suddenly sound a bit close? “—may you find ‘How to Ask your Dense Colleague Out to Dinner?’”

What a lengthy title. It sounds very basic and almost like a rule book than a novel. Well, that is General Fiction for you. Though you are quite unsure if such a book exists in the library. “Hm…” you hummed, a finger on your chin, as your eyes scanned the shelves. “I don’t think I have that here…Crowley pays me enough to support my rent and meals, but not enough to buy new books. Plus, the students…”

You heard him chuckle beside you and fought the urge to turn to him. “I believe I was not frank enough. Ah, well, I will put all subtleties aside, then…”

His warm breath tickling your skin was what made you finally turn to him. The proximity of your noses startled you that you nearly stumbled out of your stool if it were not for Divus’ hand grabbing yours to pull you to him. You gasped, shocked, as you landed close to his chest. His other hand supported your waist, and your eyes widened his silvery blues. You can feel your heart hammering against his. Your legs feel like putty when he gave you that teasing smirk. Your name—your first name—sounds surreal from his lips. Your entire world was a confusing mix of vertigo and bright lights.

“Will you go to dinner with me?”

You stared. You stammered. You are flabbergasted and flustered. You were unsure how to react to such a forward question that your brain completely shut down. But you cannot embarrass yourself—you must not. Not when…not when…not when…!

Oh, he will he stop saying your name with such sentiment?

“Is your silence a rejection or a consideration?” He rose a brow and your face flushed even more. “No! I mean yes—I mean—no, it isn’t a rejection—”

“Then you have been anticipating this?”

“Divus!”

He laughed. He laughed at your state. He laughed at your awkwardness. But most importantly his laugh sounds so pleasant. Like he was teasing you and you liked him teasing. You grew shy, averting your gaze from his and fidgeting with your fingers. “I mean…I mean…why?”

Crewel stopped laughing and looked at you. “Why what?”

“Why…me? Out of all people?” You asked as fear and denial keep you from grasping the fact that this is all real and not another scenario you made up during rainy days. Crewel’s face remained passive. Neutral. It was eating at your heart and you just wish what is going through his mind.

“Is it not obvious, puppy?” He raised a brow at you. The hand holding your wrist now tilted your chin in his direction. “It is not by fate or destiny, but a mere law that dictates the gravitational pull of similar atoms that is programmed by the need to chemically bind together.”

You suddenly felt stumped. “W—What?”

“I like you, puppy,” Crewel clarified, adoring the way your confusion turned to pure surprise, “and I would like to have dinner with you. Perhaps another, if the first went well.”

You need some time to process this. Your head felt so light you might pass out in his arms. Actually, you would not mind that in the slightest. His coat is just so soft it feels like heaven. A proper response of agreement failed to come to your mind so instead, you asked him again, “And what if the first does not end well?”

Crewel smiled at you. “Then we shall try again with the next dinner. Mind you, puppy, as a man of science, I am not afraid of failure if trying means more chances of perfecting my goal.”

“And what’s that goal?” You asked and physically stopped yourself from combusting when he leaned closer to you that your noses touch and you smell his cologne, and his bold scent.

“The goal to become yours.”

[inkweaver22-blr]

Here’s chapter ten! I do believe this is the first chapter with absolutely no dialogue! I hope you enjoy it regardless!

AO3 Link

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Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Ten: Soft Shadows

Redemption is a hard process. Yet the cycles seem to make it easy for one particular demon.

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Redemption was a tricky thing. It required so many different events to happen in a certain order that it rarely occurred.

The first step was to commit some form of wrongdoing.

This was unfortunately the easiest part to do and most people never moved on to the next.

The second step was to realize and acknowledge your actions as wrong or harmful.

Many had justified their own actions over the course of existence and never saw themselves as doing wrong. Worse, many knew their behavior to be cruel and simply did not care or relished the feelings of power it gave them.

The final step was perhaps the most difficult to achieve.

One had to feel genuine remorse for their actions and wish to change.

Very few actually made it this far in the process as it usually required a catalyst of some sort. A personal revelation after going too far or someone laying your actions out clinically so you couldn’t justify them. Even a single act of unconditional kindness and trust could make someone wish to change.

Then came the truly hard part: actively changing your actions.

The path to redemption was not a short one. It took a lifetime of pursuit and dedicated work to not slip into the temptation of reverting back to who you were before.

Closing yourself off and pretending you didn’t care was easy, after all. What was difficult was being honest with yourself and allowing yourself to feel.

It helped if you had people around you to offer support and love. If it was from the same people who you had harmed originally, all the better.

But earning forgiveness wasn’t the goal of redemption. Some would refuse to give it, and you would have to live with that as it was their right to do so. It may hurt, but you had hurt them first and have no right to demand it even if you had changed.

Being redeemed wasn’t for the benefit of one’s victims. The hope was that you could grow into being a better person. It was for your own personal peace of mind. Whether others choose to accept that you’ve changed was not up to you, but you must continue onward regardless if you were to ever live with yourself.

Tang was intimately familiar with this process. The amount of cycles where he had been some sort of villain was not small.

The first three steps came easy to him. Feeling remorse for his wrongdoings and wishing to change were simple for one stuck jumping through time.

He could even spot a suitable catalyst for his potential ‘redemption’ fairly quickly. MK’s kindness and belief of the good in most people had certainly been useful on many occasions.

Having the whole process down to a science himself, Tang was even able to pull others into changing their ways sometimes. The Demon Bull family were commonly caught in his actions whenever he was a part of it.

(Having Red Son as a younger sibling had been interesting.)

What was bemusing to the scholar was that throughout the cycles there was one person who would constantly be redeemed, even without his meddling.

The Six Eared Macaque was an interesting puzzle.

He seemed to fit into the group that knew their actions were harmful, but did not care. Yet time and time again, he would become one of their allies.

Tang hadn’t known much about the demon early on in the cycles, but the knowledge about him came inevitably.

Macaque had been a “beloved friend” of Sun Wukong in the past. At some point, they had a falling out, Macaque seeing it as being left behind by Wukong.

The scholar had actually experienced part of that tension back in that cycle with the time traveling cactus.

So it seemed feelings of betrayal, jealousy, and abandonment were Macaque’s main motivations.

That last one was eerily similar to MK’s insecurities.

Macaque was very much like both Wukong and MK when Tang stopped to think about it. All three had repressed emotional trauma and coped with them in wildly unhealthy ways. Usually by pretending they weren’t there.

Macaque channeled those repressed emotions into schemes of revenge. He used lies and illusions to get what he wanted. He was condescending and sarcastic to his enemies, seemingly cruel and uncaring.

And it was all a facade.

At least, most of the time. There were a few cycles where Macaque was genuinely a despicable person who showed no remorse.

As much as he tried to hide it, Macaque was actually a very emotional being. It was quite easy for him to get attached to one or more of their group and slowly his cruel streak would fade.

Macaque’s catalyst for change was usually a person. It differed from cycle to cycle, but someone would show him some kindness or trust and before Tang knew it they would have another sarcastic immortal monkey as a part of the team.

MK was obviously the most common person to get the demon to change. Macaque was not lying when he called him a good kid. Having four father figures in those cycles seemed to be good for MK.

Wukong, while usually not the initial catalyst, tended to play a big part in Macaque’s redemption. Being old friends, they knew each other extremely well. While that tended to lead to a lot of arguments, it also led to them picking up where they had left off their previous relationship.

It didn’t really bother Tang that said relationships were often romantic in nature. Watching the two monkeys cuddle when they thought no one was looking was just too cute.

Mei was an interesting choice for Macaque to become attached to. He often ended up becoming her mentor, teaching her how to properly wield the Dragon Blade. Both of their sarcastic natures worked surprisingly well together.

The biggest surprise had been Pigsy.

That cycle, Macaque was basically under house arrest as ordered by Heaven. Pigsy, not wanting the manipulative demon to be anywhere near MK, forced him to stay at their apartment. It was some time later when Tang had woken late in the night to some loud noises and had left his room to complain.

Only to find Macaque pressing a kiss to Pigsy’s cheek before fleeing his room, pursued by a flustered and angry pig demon soon after.

It was strange, but Pigsy’s gruff and silent compassion meshed really well with Macaque’s easy going and nonchalant attitude. The scholar found their affection towards each other endearing.

Tang supposed it was only a matter of time before he himself acted as Macaque’s catalyst.

The cycle had started early, about a year before the original events. While working at the library, Tang had been approached by what he immediately recognized as Macaque in his human disguise. He had requested help on learning more about The Journey to the West for a school assignment. Tang, deciding to play along, offered himself up as an expert on the story and they began meeting weekly to go over it.

Macaque truly did not know the full events of the Journey in this cycle and seemed upset at several points, such as learning about the fillet used to inflict pain on Wukong. Over time, the pair began to meet up more often and discuss things other than the famous book.

He really should have expected falling in love.

Macaque was still sarcastic as ever, but never malicious. He made jokes and comparisons that had Tang’s side aching from how hard he laughed. He was quick to pick up Tang’s quirks and preferences, surprising him with his favorite foods or a nice new set of bookmarks.

He was still Macaque, but this softer side of him made Tang’s chest flutter.

As he lay in bed with his partner, (who had still yet to reveal himself to Tang, but he was patient), Tang couldn’t help but feel a new place in his heart open up for the shadow demon. He had already been considering adding Macaque into his family due to the many times he had joined them, and this just solidified that decision.

Oh Tang knew the cycles where he never changed would be painful. Watching as someone he loved went down a path of self destruction wasn’t easy. But he held onto the knowledge that there would always be the cycles where Macaque did become a part of their family.

As long as the possibility existed, there was hope that the same could happen in his own timeline.

If he ever got back that is.

Tang shoved that increasingly reoccurring thought away and closed his eyes, letting the soothing sounds of Macaque’s breathing lull him to sleep.

----------

A NEW CHALLENGER APPROACHES!

Macaque is the fandom’s darling bad boy, so of course I had to have a chapter discussing his many, MANY redemption’s over the many fics and AU’s.

In particular, (Teach Me to Be) Tougher Than Leather, Softer Than Silk by *checks notes* HOLY SHIT! I had no idea this was by @ninja-knox-ur-sox-off until just now! *ahem* Anyway it is an AMAZING fic with a practically never used pair and I highly recommend it.

Tang seems to have a type doesn’t he? Demons that seem emotionally distant, but are big softies at heart. It’s probably the purring that gets him. ;P Also does Tang/Macaque have a ship name? If not I'm dubbing it InkyPages.

Don’t worry Tang! I’m sure those intrusive thoughts will go away all on their own.

Important notice! I’m probably going to be putting this fic on the back burner for a bit because I really want to write about the cycle mentioned here. Not as part of Scattered Cicadas, but as its own thing. So keep an eye out for that!

Until next time!

[cherryblossom-chopper]

Liv! 💕

I love how creative and different your matchups are, especially regarding your choice of characters. If you don't mind, I'd love to ask for one for myself too :3

I'm genderfluid and bisexual, in my mid 20s, a Capricorn (though I don't really care about astrology), ISTJ (nor those personality categories) and autistic. I'm okay with any gender of a partner, though I tend to lean more towards masc people.

I'm extremely introverted, wary against unknown people and very cautious when choosing friends. It takes a lot for me to relax around others (even if I'm good at hiding it behind confidence, charisma and a laid back attitude) but once I let someone closer, I am loyal to death, act way more relaxed, playful, even goofy. I don't really care about social boundaries, so I easily come across as rude or weird, even against my intentions. I have sarcastic and dark sense of humor, quite sharp tongue and quite a temper, if someone steps on my boundaries.

But I'm also very protective of people I like and love, passionate about my interests, trying my best to smile at difficulties. I guess I'm a free spirit, a cat-like creature who likes to walk its own paths and will love only a person whom it chooses on its own.

Ah, I'm also stubborn as fuck. And tend to treat myself too harshly, overworking myself, setting too broad goals and such.

I love the simplicity of life: good food, the smell of rain, starry nights, storms, learning, discovering new things. I have broad interests, from literature to science. I speak 2 foreign languages and understand 2 more (and want to learn even more), love reading, writing, stargazing, cooking, travelling. My interest towards my hobbies often switches, right now I'm fixated on ornithology (yes, I'm a bird mom) and Greek history, but there's also: astrophysics, ancient and medieval European history, anthropology, manga (I even work with manga, since I'm a graphic editor), science fiction, thanatology, body modifications and such. Also I'm a gigantic nerd.

Good luck with everything and please, don't overwork yourself! 💕

Bas, dearest, I've given this so much thought 💖

I ship you with Kaku

He is so respectful of your boundaries and won't pressure you into situations that may make you uncomfortable. I think he's very much a slow-and-steady kind of guy. There's no need to rush into anything that will make you uncomfortable.

He will steal a bird for you. Lucci bird is now your pet if that's what you want. I think Kaku is very passionate about what you are passionate about, even if he doesn't understand.

Something I'm picturing is a rainy day inside for the two of you. He's in his comfy clothes, with hot cocoa/tea/coffee, and has set up some sort of pillow fort. Okay, so maybe it's not really a pillow fort, but cozy blankets and pillows make the bed or couch comfortable, so you don't have to move for the rest of the day. He's got a documentary of one of your interests ready to go and a couple backup documentaries in case you don't like the one he's picked. Kaku also has a handful of cartoons on standby. This man will entertain you.

Relationship Trope: Friends to Lovers

[melias-cimitiere]

MINORITY REPORT

People who are interested in being honest, true to themselves and to others, eager to learn truth about things (scientific, historical, etc) and acquire knowledge, please keep reading. Everyone else, carry on with your daily activities; this article will clearly not impact on you in any positive way.

There has been a growing concern during the last few years that people have a tendency to “save the tree and burn the forest”; this is a mentality of gross generalizations, over-simplistic attitudes towards right and wrong, and superficial ideological bubbles that do not take into account reality. When historical truth is no longer convenient, when people forget the right use of words and terms and come up with the trendy, politically correct speech while disregarding the established definitions, then watch out: Big Brother is about (the 1984 George Orwell concept).

Minorities’ rights

There is a large number of people who tend to be sympathetic towards any groups, just because they are labelled as a minority. Instead of examining what they stand for and who they truly are (given a historical perspective), they moralize on their behalf and fiercely try to protect them, with a simplistic and gullible attitude. Let’s try and ask some basic questions:

Are their rights more/less important than anyone else’s?

We should be talking about human rights, and not minorities’ rights. If these groups are human groups, then they have some rights; these rights are protected by United Nations and various Constitutions, and political assemblies worldwide, and any proven violation is condemned. Why should any human group have more (or less) rights than any other group?

Are the minorities always correct?

Of course not. Whoever believes this tends to be extremely naïve. For example, amidst the minorities hide some rather loathsome groups (or individuals), such as Nazis, KKK, international terrorists (like Isil/Isis/Daesh, Al-Qaeda etc). And what about the minority groups of suicide cults, slavery rings, drug-dealers, “black market” merchants (of weapons, substances, toxins, organs etc)? What about serial killers or pedophiles? As you can see, membership in a minority group doesn’t automatically make you correct in all things. 

Issue of historical guilt

What is trendy or fashionable doesn’t make it necessarily better or right. Nowadays it is not trendy or fashionable to expose certain historical facts because certain groups feel discomfort. This is not new; in fact, it has been an issue with history and with science since the very beginning. When Galileo showed the Earth is round and spins around itself, it caused certain “waves”; people even demanded his death. We still have the Flat Earth Society despite scientific evidence of the contrary. With regards to history and warfare, you will not find any parties that are not guilty. In fact, nearly every nation in the world has committed atrocities, vandalism, slavery, aggressive occupation and its army/warriors raping innocent victims etc. In the history of Mankind there are very few true innocents. 

If we do not acknowledge such occurrences as inherent in human nature and as potential threats for everyone, we are doomed to repeat them in the future. Fascism and Nazism is not only a German thing; Slavery isn’t just a “white thing”; Colonialism isn’t just a British thing. We need to address the issues, recognize and study what makes these happen, and confront them. We must all stand united against this, and not devolve into group mentality and us against the others. We need to challenge our own mindset and free ourselves from pre-conceived ideas. Minorities get overly sensitive when people criticize certain behaviors or the past. And yet, how can one hope to be free from prejudice, when one refuses to see the truth, opting to be part of the herd? 

What is Racism?

“Prejudice, discrimination, or antagonism directed against a person or people on the basis of their membership of a particular racial or ethnic group, typically one that is a minority or marginalized.”

“The belief that different races possess distinct characteristics, abilities, or qualities, especially so as to distinguish them as inferior or superior to one another.”

[Oxford Dictionary]

“policies, behaviours, rules, etc. that result in a continued unfair advantage to some people and unfair or harmful treatment of others based on race”.

Also:

“harmful or unfair things that people say, do, or think based on the belief that their own race makes them more intelligent, good, moral, etc. than people of other races”.

[Cambridge University]

So as you can see, racism doesn’t have to do with minorities specifically. Minority groups can also be racist to majority groups, or some nations/people claim to be superior or “God’s chosen” while this is blatantly racist and, by definition, a harmful and unfair behavior. On a final note, just because certain groups have been persecuted historically, this doesn’t justify them to persecute others while claiming to be victims of racism, as this would be hypocrisy.

What is Discrimination? How is it different to Prejudice?

1. “The unjust or prejudicial treatment of different categories of people, especially on the grounds of race, age, sex, or disability.”

2. “Recognition and understanding of the difference between one thing and another”.

Usually people tend to forget the second definition, and over time, discrimination becomes something negative. What about, “a discriminative mind is a mark of wisdom?” Should you not pick and choose according to preference? Are all things the same? Obviously not. Prejudice, on the other hand, is always negative. It is wrong in so many ways to be prejudiced against people of any group; this doesn’t just apply to minorities. However, that doesn’t mean that a person cannot choose what he/she prefers. Preference is an act of freedom. 

Some groups seem to imply that if a person says that he/she is heterosexual, that it means that they are homophobic. I hate prejudice; I support equal rights. I also fully support the second definition of discrimination; I do this all the time. I choose what I like to eat, where to hang out and who to have sex with. I have specific gender preferences; my choices don’t make me phobic of the other minority groups (another wrong use of the word phobic, meaning fear of something. Not wanting to have sex with specific types of peoples doesn’t mean I fear them, it simply means that I don’t like it and I prefer something else). I also choose what to read, what to reject, what kinds of music or movies to watch and so on. I’m sure you do all that too. So remember to use the words correctly.

What is antisemitism?

Semitic groups have been known to spread to a vast region in the Eastern Mediterranean all the way down to the Persian Gulf. Examples are: the Canaanites, the Akkadians, the Babylonians, and the Chaldeans that settled the Mesopotamian South where the Euphrates empties into the Gulf (from the tribe Kaldu – a Semitic tribe from the Amorites), the Jebusites, the Jewish tribes, the Arameans, and many more. So to pick just one of them and say it is the only Semitic group is doing disservice to the rest and is also appropriating people’s ethnic background. 

Also, just because several of these groups were historically persecuted (Jews, Palestinians, small minorities in Iraq and Syria, etc) doesn’t give them immunity from blame when they are the ones committing crimes of racism or persecution. It has become a common thing in certain places from the Levant that one cannot bring about anything in discussion relating history or politics, from fear of offending their sensibilities. This has to stop. People should be freely discussing their opinions, and with the right evidence, they should be able to accept new data. Believing that people from minorities have indemnity from scrutiny is a naïve and socially dangerous stance.

Stereotyping and Reverse Pendulum Mentality

Protect battered mothers / women (but not battered fathers / men?)

Protect raped females (but what about raped males?)

Protect a specific group of a certain ethnic background while turning a blind eye towards other groups of different backgrounds whose rights are violated.

A child goes first (but what about elderly, mentally ill etc which are categories often neglected?)

Homophobic is a bad thing (and not heterophobic?)

A group or groups of different gender definitions must be protected (but shouldn’t all people’s choices on this matter be protected, no matter what?)

It is common, when society realizes that the rights of a certain minority have been violated (ie in the case of persecution, slavery, racist hostility and even killings because of that like the pogroms against Jews and other races), that society goes overboard and through overprotecting, refuse even the slightest of blame, even in documented cases. And yet, there have been plenty of people belonging to minority groups who were guilty of various crimes, including slavery, discrimination or collaborating with the enemy (and all these have been documented also). Minorities can easily become oppressors and they have done so, from ancient to modern times, as any student of history can testify.

Politically correct

We need to see some definitions of this; in the past, I used to pay a lot of notice and try to accommodate to that standard. Not so much now, and I will explain why.

“The avoidance of forms of expression or action that are perceived to exclude, marginalize, or insult groups of people who are socially disadvantaged or discriminated against.” [Oxford dictionary]

“Conforming to a belief that language and practices which could offend political sensibilities (as in matters of sex or race) should be eliminated” [Merriam-Webster]

“Someone who is politically correct believes that language and actions that could be offensive to others, especially those relating to sex and race, should be avoided.” [Cambridge University]

So look again the above definitions and note the words ‘perceived’ in the first, ‘conforming to a belief’ in the second, and ‘believes’ in the third. All these are subjective, thus arbitrary. If one wishes to be well-behaved, then by all means, one should take into account the sensibilities of others over various issues. However, in matters of spirituality, philosophy, history or science, one should care more about the objective truth and less about how people feel about certain aspects of the truth.

     Examples include some of the following:

How many people died in a genocide (numbers differ according to which side you ask);

Is a certain behavior sign/symptom of mental illness (again, the psychiatrists will often tell a different story compared to members of various groups);

Are all people equal? (This often gets mistranslated as an inflammatory comment, aiming to annoy others meaning that they don’t deserve equal opportunities and rights. I am talking about people being equal in skills, IQ, innate abilities etc. Anyone who believes they are equal, must believe in that the humans are a race of robots coming from the same factory and production line.)

Thought Police vs Right to Free Speech

Seeking to prevent possible injustices before they even occur… seems pro-active and good, doesn’t it? Has anyone watched the film, Minority Report? If no, watch it. What about, Fahrenheit 451? Another excellent film (a bit old but a masterpiece). Do you believe in freedom? Can you say what you think without fear? Ask yourself if you should double-guess yourself every time you need to say or write something. People around you are a varied lot; many will not agree with what you say or do. Should you be made to feel intimidated by that? I don’t think so. You have a right to believe what you want and also your freedom of speech is safeguarded by the constitution.

Cultural Appropriation

A touchy subject for a lot of people. “Closed religions”? Kabbalah, deities, voodoo, Hindu beliefs, Native Indian spirit animals etc… the list goes on and on. Are we serious here? I mean, who makes these things up? Wake up people! There is NO closed religion. If a spiritual person or a person with respect approaches a concept or a deity/spirit and that deity/spirit accepts them, then it’s not up to the people to judge badly and condemn this approach! I can (and do) use whatever I want; my judgement is all I need, and that makes me a free man. Please, do not bend to such criticism; learn to think for yourselves. Learn, and experience things directly, if possible. You are born Free, like me. Do not bend to slave mentalities.

Constitutional Rights

Lastly, a bit of the obvious. Surely you are aware that any constitution of a country where there’s democracy and not a totalitarian regime safeguards certain freedoms. One of them is the right to think, speak, write and believe freely. Read up on your rights! Don’t take for granted what other people want you to believe; research yourself and then put them in their place. Protect those rights. People died to establish and to protect them in the past; now you got the ball, it’s your call.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

21st Century Friction

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: T Word count: 10,817 @spideychelleweek​

Spideychelle Week Day 6: Enemies to Lovers

Summary: Peter needs an arts credit to graduate, but he didn't mean to pick the course that even the English majors avoid! Luckily, he has the help of Michelle Jones, the tutor Tony hired for him. Unluckily, she just overheard him insulting her entire academic discipline. They're not breaking off the arrangement―Peter's determined to do well in this stupid English course to keep his average up and Michelle won't let his bad attitude stand in the way of a cheque from Tony Stark.

With one tempestuous meeting down, they only have two semesters and twenty-five books to go.

Peter’s in big trouble―huge―and Mr. Stark did tell him that if he’s ever in trouble he should ask for help, so he calls, looking for help, and gets nobody, so he calls again and gets Happy, who hangs up once Peter makes him understand that, no, this isn’t about somebody trying to kick his Spidey-suit ass but about him trying to pick a new class (Happy’s next to some freaky machine at the time and it makes the cell reception wonky), but who finally listens all the way to the end on the seventeenth time Peter manages to get through to him without having his call dropped, and then Mr. Stark is told about it and though Peter isn’t immediately apprised of the solution to his own problem for some reason, he’s informed that cash has been flashed and that the solution will, inevitably, be attained.

Until then, Peter begins the first week of his third year of college and shows up to the labs and lectures of every class on his schedule, including English 1034: 21st Century Literature from A to Z.

AGUALUSA, José Eduardo ― A General Theory of Oblivion

“A tutor?” Peter hisses into his phone, pacing the tight corridor of the library’s fourth-floor stacks. “How is his solution to get me a tutor? I don’t need a tutor! I’m smart, Happy, remember? What did I want instead? Well, I don’t know! I have to keep all my core classes for my major, but maybe he could’ve made them give me credit for taking something online from another college? I’m not screwing up my schedule for English lit. I don’t even know why I gotta take this! I know how to read, you know? I’m just―”

Oh sure, he heard the other person enter the aisle, but he assumed it was to grab a book, so the noise of annoyance that leaves his mouth when his phone is snatched from his hand and his call ended is absolutely genuine.

“’Sup,” says the person, who’s a woman his age, who’s handing his phone back with a lazy gesture, who’s apparently entirely cool, casual, and unapologetic about unceremoniously hanging up on Happy for him. “You gotta take English lit because it sounds as though your vocabulary needs it and, hi, I’m Michelle. Your tutor.”

She mumbles an indelicate string of words after that as she turns and walks away from him out of the stacks and Peter picks up ‘entitled asshole’ even though he isn’t trying to listen, just follow her and set this thing straight.

“Uh, no, you’re not,” he assures her, alarmed when the place he’s trailing her to turns out to be a table where her stuff is waiting―open notebook, two different coloured pens, a copy of the syllabus for English 1034. No, no, no!

“Well, I can’t guarantee you’ll actually learn anything since you seem to have a combination of a pretty thick skull and an overinflated ego, but I’ll hold up my end of the deal. Let me guess, Business major?”

“Bio,” Peter grits out, grasping the back of the chair intended for him as this Michelle person slides neatly into hers, like the library’s her living room because she lives here. Fine. He’s happy for it to stay that way. He has access to all the books he needs in the sciences library on the other side of campus.

“Well, my condolences to the parts of your brain which, in most people, would produce non-literal comprehension and creative thought. But I’m sure you know the names for those, don’t you, Science Guy? Ok, quit making that face and let’s go over your syllabus.”

She doesn’t look up the entire time she speaks and Peter has never heard a person sound so pretentious in real life.

“Are you kidding me? No. Even if I wanted or needed to be tutored, it wouldn’t be by you. You grabbed my phone out of my hand!”

“Yeah,” Michelle agrees, meeting his eye with something firm in her own, “and you were talking on it in one of the library’s Quiet Zones. I’m not here to give you a lesson on Comparative Ignorance.”

“What makes you think you can just do that?” Peter demands. He feels sort of ridiculous and like he’s simultaneously taking the argument a step too far and a step not-far-enough; he’s not usually like this, but then, other people aren’t usually like that.

“The fact that I was paid in advance.”

She nods towards the chair and Peter doesn’t know why he does it, but he sits, still mad.

“Stark paid you to tutor me,” he states.

“Boy, are you struggling with the concept of exchanging currency for services too? Maybe there’s a basic Econ class you could still get into.”

“Why you?”

“Why you?” Michelle counters. “Why can’t smarty-pants, Stark-patroned Peter Parker just suck it up and get through a single English credit? Seriously, why not, since you seem to think it’s just reading and therefore easy. Why not just bribe the college to hand you the credit? You want me to tell you where the Financial Office is? I could show you because, ok, about me now, I’m here on scholarship because I couldn’t find a benevolent billionaire to smooth my path for me.” She straightens up in her chair, eyes practically volcanic with heat. “And here’s another why me for you: because I love what I study, I think literature has worth and beauty, and, oh right, I have the highest grade point average in the entire School of Arts and Humanities.”

Peter’s so floored for a minute that he forgets why he’s angry.

“It wouldn’t be right,” he finally says, trying to at least regain the moral high ground after her offhand suggestion of bribery. “Buying a credit. It wouldn’t be right.”

“So… instead you demean the entire discipline, like that’s going to help you.”

He scoffs.

“It’d help me more than you would.”

“Helping you is why I’m here.”

“You sound thrilled about it.”

“Hard not to be when I have the honour of tutoring the Spider-Man,” she says, matching his sarcasm.

Ugh, he hates that she brought that up. By his third year, he’s become less of a novelty in the halls―these days, people get more excited about a sighting of the local gopher who lives in a hole near the Astronomy building―and having it thrown in his face like this is even more uncomfortable than requests for selfies. Or the few mortifying pleas for his autograph. They’re locked in a mutually-irritated glare, which Peter breaks with a groan and a roll of his eyes.

“I didn’t want to be in this class,” he admits.

“And yet the online course selection process is so very hard to fuck up. Thus, you did in fact choose this class. Unless… does Tony Stark pick your classes for you?”

Peter ignores that. He can’t both fume and be cooperative enough to get her help, which he’s starting to think he might need. Maybe she can give him some kind of insider English department knowledge that will rid him of English 1034.

“It is an interesting choice,” Michelle continues carefully. Is she smirking at him? He can’t quite tell.

“I didn’t read the description.”

“What did you expect ‘20th Century Literature from A to Z’ to be?”

She’s mocking him, but Peter feels like his mistake in taking this particular class is an easy one to make. He has plenty of reasons to back him up.

“It’s a first-year level English course, it’s non-essay, and ‘A to Z’ made it sound like an overview,” he lists confidently.

“In case you don’t already know or suspect this, nobody who’s actually in the English program takes it.”

Michelle’s tone is extraordinarily smug.

“I thought you guys loved to read,” Peter says accusingly, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“Not a novel every week for two semesters! Dude, you picked a course with twenty-six required texts. ‘A to Z’ is for the alphabetical order of the authors’ last names.”

“I know that now,” he grumbles, eyeing the booklist Michelle has neatly aligned next to the syllabus on their study table. “And now all the other full-year non-essay English classes are full, so I can’t drop this one because there’s nothing to pick up in its place.”

“That’s an insanely stupid mistake.”

“Noted.”

“Ok, if you’re ready to move on, what were your thoughts on Agualusa?”

“You still want to tutor me?”

She looks at him like he’s truly the uncomprehending, unimaginative Bio-dunce she described.

“There are few things I want less than I want this. The only possible enjoyment here is getting to meet one of the unsuspecting idiots who signed up for that class, and even that doesn’t cancel out the way you belittled my area of study and those who study it. So.” Michelle extends a hand and, when Peter realizes what she wants, accepts his panic-purchased copy of A General Theory of Oblivion. “Time to prove you can read.”

BEATTY, Paul ― The Sellout

“I see you found the place,” Michelle greets without looking up from what she’s reading (which is the book for his course).

Peter attempts to glance around without being obvious about it.

“It’s the same table we sat at last time,” he says, mostly certain.

“I know.” She looks up. “I just thought you might get lost in unfamiliar territory. Had you ever been in here before last week?”

He laughs bitterly as he slings his backpack off and lets it slam into the leg of the table, making Michelle frown.

“Yeah, I had.” Once. When he toured the college with May before applying to undergrad. “Don’t be so gatekeeper-y. These books aren’t just for English majors.”

“Oh, so you avail yourself of them often for pleasure reading? Sorry, sorry,” she adds quickly and something inside Peter eases at the hope of an apology, “I forgot I was talking to the guy who signed up for the most reading-heavy class the English department offers. Of course you must love to read.”

“I just want to get my mandatory arts credit to graduate.”

The motive should be obvious, Peter thinks, but maybe she’ll take pity on him because he’s offering an explanation.

“You’ve already successfully postponed it your first two years. Why not push it to next year when you can take a lighter class?”

“There are a lot of required fourth-year courses for my major. I don’t have room for anything that isn’t impor―”

He cuts himself off, but Michelle looks pissed. What? It’s the truth! If he thought English was more important than Biology, he would’ve studied English!

“You’re trying to get me to wait for an easier class and you told me I shouldn’t assume English was easy,” he accuses.

“It’s not! I didn’t say an easier class, I said a lighter one. You know, with fewer books to read. English ten-thirty-four is an easy class.”

“Yeah right!”

“Really, Peter?” He’s startled to hear his name leave her mouth. “Exactly how deep were you expecting the analysis to go when you only spend a week on each book? That’s a Monday and Wednesday course, right? So you’re only actually discussing the book for three hours. A bunch of your assigned texts are over four hundred pages, which means covering around one hundred and thirty-three pages every hour of discussion, or a little over two pages every minute. And that’s just content. If you were actually digging into any of these books, you’d discuss themes, historical context of the subject matter, intertextual influence…”

“You’re pretty good at math,” he says wryly. “I bet you could have majored in that instead.”

“I could’ve majored in anything, but I chose a subject that actually has a soul.”

“It’s cute that you’re so noble about it,” Peter says, feeling like an honest-to-Thor asshole because he’s never disparaged anyone or anything by calling them or it ‘cute’ before, “considering the current arrangement.”

She gives him a harsh look before finally asking, “What do you mean?”

“You’re studying something so intellectual and culturally important or whatever and looking down at people in Business and the sciences. Lots of us love what we’re majoring in and some of us are in it for a career with a good salary. I’m just worried you’re being a bit of a hypocrite. How superior can you feel when you’re peddling your English-major wisdom for a paycheque from Tony Stark?”

Michelle can’t really murder him―his reflexes are too fast, his body too durable, and the most dangerous thing she appears to have at her disposal is a blue ballpoint pen―but she kinda looks like she might give it a try. Ok, so undercutting her integrity in a vengeful rant was probably beneath him. She was being such a snob though!

Finally, her expression relaxes and she uncaps her pen (Peter flinches), poising it over the page where, last week, she composed him a strong set of notes as they attempted a rocky discussion of the book.

“How much did you get read?”

CHOI, Mary H.K. ― Permanent Record

Peter sits and nods at Michelle when she looks up.

“We’re past the add/drop date,” he announces. “Guess I’m officially in English ten-thirty-four for the rest of the year.”

“And when you graduate, it’ll be right there on your transcript, smuggled through in between the important courses. Even if you can’t hack it and fail the class,” she concludes with a small, scornful smile.

“As far as I know, you’re being paid too much to let me fail.”

It feels like a gross powerplay the second he’s said it. If they’re really going to do this, he needs to start taking the meanspirited way that she roots against him in stride. Does he think about finding a different tutor every time she makes a sly comment like that? Sure, but he’s stubborn enough about maintaining a strong average to recognize the value of learning from the best student in the program.

“So…” he says after a minute, watching Michelle flip through his book to find where he’s marked the passages examined in class. “We never really agreed to it out loud, but I guess this is our standing place and time to do this?”

“Yeah, there’s a clipboard where you sign up to reserve a specific table. I put our names down for every Thursday for the rest of the year.”

“Really?”

“No, numbskull,” Michelle informs him lightly. “You can’t reserve a table, only the study rooms. I knew you didn’t know how the library worked.”

“How ‘bout, instead of that, we talk about the demands of fame.”

“Oh? Are you trying to open up to me?” She taps the end of her pen hard and fast against the table as though to emphasize this is something she doesn’t have time for.

“No. I did my assigned reading.”

He reaches out and grabs his book, dragging it back across the table.

DAY, Kate Hope ― If, Then

“I kept waiting for it to get good. Why didn’t it get good?” he asks, spinning the book on their table, then trapping it under his palm.

“Patience, spider-brain,” Michelle instructs. “It is good. It’s suspenseful and subtle and atmospheric and it’s no wonder those things went right over your head. Weren’t you at least interested in Ginny? She’s a surgeon.”

“So?”

“So, you’re in Biology. Don’t you want to be a doctor or something?”

“I don’t know yet,” Peter says with a shrug. Man, is she going to start bugging him about figuring out his career path? He has May for that. “Do you know what you want to be?”

“A tutor,” she responds flatly.

He’d smile if they were friends because she’s apparently hilarious.

“It takes some time to build if the part you’re most interested in is the sci-fi stuff,” Michelle concedes. “Did you read it to the end?”

“I didn’t have time. I had to start the next book early because I have a big lab assignment next week.” He sighs and lets his head fall into his hand just thinking about it.

She frowns and looks down, so he can only assume she disapproves of his priorities or his poor time management or something.

But then she mumbles, “You should try audiobooks.”

“Thanks,” Peter says, because that’s actually a great idea. He can listen on his way to campus in the mornings and he won’t have to carry the book on the days he doesn’t have that class. It’ll mean buying an audio copy of everything he already purchased, but he’ll still use the hard copies most of the time, and it’s not like Mr. Stark’s going to begrudge him another hundred bucks. Plus, almost all of the books for this course are novels, so it won’t even feel like doing homework!

In the midst of excitedly thinking over how much time he’ll have if he takes her advice, he glances at Michelle. She’s ignoring him.

ENDICOTT, Marina ― Good to a Fault

It’s the first week of October and Peter thinks he has the hang of this being-an-English-student thing. He read-slash-listened-to the whole book this week and even though the next two weeks’ novels are a couple of the longest in the entire course, he’s undaunted. When he gets to the library and finds Michelle―the classes they have right before this tutoring session end at the same time, but she always beats him here―he brags about being totally on top of his reading. She’s possibly starting to smile at him when he says, “I’m getting good at this. You want any tips?”

“God, Peter!” she blurts. “This is the third year of my major! Try to have some fucking respect!”

He holds up his hands placatingly. Once his books are out, Peter starts watching her and notices a syllabus at her elbow that isn’t for English 1034. Aggressively highlighted in green is tomorrow’s date and ‘MIDTERM.’ His don’t start for another week. He never consciously realized that Humanities students had midterm stress too. Michelle must be taking more than one English class right now, plus whatever else fills up her schedule. Jeeze, that’s a lot of reading, and she’s reading enough of his books to help him on top of doing her own shit. Peter winces and keeps his mouth shut until she’s ready to begin.

FLYNN, Gillian ― Gone Girl

They’re in the thick of midterms and having a particularly grouchy (on both sides) tutoring session.

“Quit writing a bunch of nothing,” Michelle criticizes, like that’s somehow useful feedback.

“I’m getting to my point!” Peter complains.

“They’re long answer questions, not essays. You won’t get any pity marks for filler like you do in a Bio exam.”

“They don’t give marks for filler in Bio exams!”

“Well then where did you learn to answer questions like this?” she snaps. “Do you want to start this one over or try another one?”

They glare at each other for several sluggish moments.

“I’ll start over,” Peter decides, meeting her challenging look with his own.

“Fine.”

This time, Michelle not only passes him the question she came up with but also rips a piece of paper out of her notebook, tears it into thirds, and hands him one of those as well.

“One-sided,” she instructs.

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Be concise.”

“If you took your own advice, I’d be able to write in silence right now instead of being distracted by the sound of you talking!”

In what seems like a blink as Peter looks up from his paper and tightly-gripped pencil in confusion, Michelle has her bag packed and shoves back from the table.

“Help me study!” he yells after her in desperation.

“Earn it with something more than money,” she calls back, flipping him off over her shoulder.

GO, Justin ― The Steady Running of the Hour

Groveling wouldn’t be well-received, Peter thinks. Instead, he brings Michelle an iced coffee as an apology for being a dick last week when he was freaking out over midterms. They’re experiencing a final flare of summer weather and it seems like a practical offering as well as a symbolic gesture. Unfortunately, the man at the front desk makes Peter toss the coffee before he’s allowed in because of a No Food and Drink policy. He feels really awkward about it and distinctly emptyhanded when he approaches Michelle at their usual table.

When it’s clear that she’s not focused on anything else, Peter spills the story and does end up saying, “I’m sorry” out loud. She likes one of those things enough to smile at him―not a big one, but not a sarcastic one either―and he exhales in relief.

“I really appreciate that you’re doing this,” he adds during a lull when they’re looking over the notes he made in class, trying to decipher his professor’s analysis of a certain passage.

He studies Michelle’s downturned face until she looks up and meets his eye.

“When do you get your midterm results?”

“Not for a couple of weeks. The prof doesn’t seem like he’s in any rush.”

“Are you worried about how you did?” she asks, propping her chin up with her fist. It makes her mouth slope into a playful pout and he follows the line of it with his eye for a second.

“Kinda.”

Michelle shakes her head.

“You shouldn’t be. You’re working hard. I know you passed.”

It’s the first session that they don’t fight. Feels good.

HAM, Rosalie ― The Dressmaker

“Holy shit,” he breathes when Michelle enters. “What is that?”

The day has finally come that he beats her to the library, which is the first shock, but this is an entirely separate and far less expected thing.

“It’s Halloween,” she states. As though it’s no big deal that she just walked in here wearing a silky-looking, floor-length, emerald green gown. Well, he assumes it’s a gown and not a skirt that sits really high on her waist, but he can’t see the entire thing; she’s wearing a cropped hoodie over top. The juxtaposition makes him grin.

“Where did you get that?”

“I made it.” Just as Peter’s mouth is dropping open, she huffs a laugh and says, “Of course I didn’t. It was my grandma’s. The style’s not totally right, but I thought the colour was a pretty good match.”

“Right,” he agrees as she swishes over and sits, cautiously smoothing the dress as she does so. “Because you’re obviously supposed to be…”

Michelle rolls her eyes as she takes the opportunity for illuminating him.

“Cecilia Tallis. From Atonement,” she prompts. “Keira Knightley played her.”

“Oh, ok, yeah. I think I saw part of that one time when my aunt May was watching it.”

“It was a book first,” Michelle teasingly informs him.

“I know you’ll be amazed to hear that I haven’t read it.”

“So amazed.”

“You look good in green,” Peter throws out there while she’s still looking at him.

“Don’t be weird about it, Parker.”

He totally sees her smiling to herself when they turn to their books and wonders if they’re friends yet.

ISRAEL, Lee ― Can You Ever Forgive Me?

Nope, nope, nope, they’re definitely not friends yet! After their revision session last week, Peter thought more about his and Michelle’s potential friendship, then started to feel weird about the fact that he’s paying her―or that Mr. Stark is, on his behalf. It’s been rare lately that both he and Mr. Stark aren’t busy at the same time, but with Peter’s midterms over and a new month beginning, Tony worked out a time for them to speak in person. Peter might have got rambling a little under the heady influence of his mentor’s full attention and maybe some things came across incorrectly. It wasn’t a meeting though, and he definitely didn’t know that decisions were being made!

“I thought you were finding this helpful!” Michelle says.

“I am,” he insists. “I left Mr. Stark a message. I’m gonna set it straight!”

“Oh, like you set it straight over the weekend? He fired me as your tutor!”

“I didn’t know he was doing that!”

“What did you say to him?” she demands.

Fuck, this is going to be embarrassing to say face-to-face. Peter glances at their table―where they didn’t sit down, due to this accidental termination―and feels himself get all overheated and shifty.

“That I felt weird about paying you.”

“Because English is so worthless you should be able to learn about it for free? Yeah, I guess you could’ve made the internet your tutor, but it’s a full two months too late for that!”

“Dammit!” Peter says, frustrated. “No! Because I thought maybe you and I were friends now because it seemed like maybe we were and I’d definitely like us to be friends, but I didn’t want you to feel obligated to be nice to me as a friend or anything more than a tutor just because you’re being paid. Do you want to be friends with me?” he summarizes bluntly.

“Yes.”

He frowns in confusion.

“Really?”

Michelle’s eyes dart to the side, then zip back to his face.

“…Isn’t that what you want? I think that’s literally what you just told me you want.”

“And the money thing?”

“Yeah, you’re definitely going to fix that as soon as we’re done today. My time and expertise are valuable as hell and I’m super willing to take Tony Stark’s money.” She gives him a weird look. “My friendship is not for sale.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to assume―”

“I mean, I don’t know how people make friends over there in Biology, but―”

“Ok, that’s far enough,” he says, laughing when she smirks to admit she was kidding.

“I guess you better start calling me MJ too,” she says, taking her usual seat.

“If I had any extra names you didn’t know, I’d totally let you use one in exchange.”

She shrugs easily and picks up this week’s novel when he places it on the table within her reach.

“Speaking of people using other names…” MJ says as she taps the cover. “Ready to talk about a famous forger?”

“Smooth transition.”

“Thanks… pal?”

“No,” Peter says to ‘pal,’ making a face.

“No,” she agrees. “I’ll just have to remember that we’re friends now without a new name to remind me.”

“You’re officially my meanest friend,” he jokes.

MJ snorts.

“Peter, with all the time we’re spending together this year, I’m gonna be your best friend.”

JOHNSON, Adam ― Fortune Smiles

“Seventy-three!” Peter cries out when he strides into the library that Thursday. Desk Man shoots him a look and Peter mouths, “Sorry.” But if that guy’s annoyance with Peter is on the rise, so is the strength of his friendship with MJ.

“Seventy-three?” she repeats excitedly, then pauses, seemingly waiting for him to say more.

He understands. For her, getting a 73 on an English exam would probably be a blow to her average and something she’d struggle to course correct from on the final. He’d feel the same about receiving that grade in one of the classes that make up his major. But for his first college English exam? A discipline that’s forcing him to learn a completely different type of material and regurgitate that knowledge on an exam that’s neither practical nor multiple choice? It’s huge. He beams to let MJ know he hasn’t come to complain about her ineffective tutoring. Totally the opposite.

“That’s great,” MJ says. She rises from her chair because Peter’s too hyper―even a full day after getting his mark―to sit down yet.

“Yeah?”

“I told you you’d do fine,” she reminds him.

Then she goes to shove his arm and Peter misinterprets it, pulling her in to finish what he thought was the beginning of a hug. Just as he’s realizing and loosening his arms from around her, MJ’s hands come up and squeeze his back once, ending in a few reassuring pats. They break out of it, holding each other at arm’s length and she gives him a firm nod in conclusion. Peter laughs awkwardly. After that, they re-establish their usual rhythm.

“So, the first short story collection on your booklist,” she says as she sits. Rather than taking his regular spot across from her, he drags the chair around the circular table so they’re side by side. MJ watches him without protest.

“These are the first short stories I’ve read,” he tells her.

“What did you think?”

“I like it. It’s nice how it breaks the book into chunks. Makes it seem shorter maybe?”

“Definitely.”

Weirdly, their opinions about the book and what his prof wants him to learn from it continue to closely align. Of course, they don’t get through everything because, after about 15 minutes, MJ asks if he brought his midterm with him. He yanks it free of his backpack and they spend the rest of their time going over it. With a 73, Peter expects a lot of the review to be criticism (of the constructive variety) and notes on what he should’ve done better or different. Instead, it’s MJ gasping (quietly but happily) every time she finds a place where he mentioned something they went over together. He watches her eyes scan over where he described If, Then as ‘suspenseful, subtle, and atmospheric’ before going further into his comparison between that novel and Gone Girl. She catches his eye, her expressions changing like a shuffling card deck. Peter sees impressed come up, then pleased, then a third, unfamiliar thing that’s gone when MJ flips his exam to the next page.

KOCH, Herman ― The Dinner

“How is this book so horrific and so good?” Peter asks wonderingly.

They were going over his class notes until the notes referred to a page number of the novel. When he couldn’t remember what happened there, they looked it up. It was just supposed to be a refresher, but it turned into them reading nine pages―waiting for each other before flipping when their reading speeds raced, constantly slipping out of and regaining first place.

“It’s giving me rage-hunger,” MJ said.

“Rage-hunger?”

“Yeah, you know, when you’re incensed about something to the point that you start getting really hungry? Happens to me at protests.”

“Listen,” Peter says, dropping his voice to a compelling whisper. “I have pretzels.”

“Here?”

He nods.

“Do we risk it?”

“Yes,” she insists.

While she keeps watch, glancing around, Peter grasps the edge of the pretzel bag in his backpack. His expression feels pretty constipated as he struggles to open the bag soundlessly, but it’s worth the effort when he feels it give. Furtively, they sneak pretzels from his bag―balanced between their legs under the table―up to their mouths, attempting to chew as silently as possible and speaking in a soft slur with pretzels distending their cheeks.

LINK, Kelly ― Get in Trouble

Yeah, so, after being caught with mouths full of pretzels, they’re slightly afraid to immediately return to the library. Instead of meeting there on Thursday to go over all of Peter’s notes at once, he and MJ snatch time all week long. It’s another collection of short stories this week, so they go over the first one before he even attends his Monday English 1034 lecture, meaning he’s super prepared to participate for once, after running his thoughts by his tutor in advance. The next time, they do story number two, plus his class notes, then continue meeting when they can.

Peter hesitates before asking if she still wants to get together at their regular hour on Thursday. What if she feels like she’s given him enough of her time this week? What if she made other plans? But when he does ask, she’s surprised that he ever considered them not having their scheduled session. He’s not entirely sure why he was so scared she’d say no. That was silly. Although they both acknowledged that they’re friends, he thinks they’re finally starting to act like it.

So they meet on Thursday. And then they meet on Friday too. They say it’s for tutoring and keep Peter’s copy of Get in Trouble between them on the table of the student community centre, but they don’t open it. MJ trades him a bite of her pizza slice for some of his fries. He laughs hard when she gets ketchup on her lip, then swallows the sound down as she licks it off.

“Did I get it?”

“Um, yeah,” Peter replies, stupefied.

MOYES, Jojo ― Me Before You

“Well,” he says, retyping his notes to add MJ’s insights, “here’s another one where I can count watching a movie as part of studying.” Peter keeps typing for a minute, but she doesn’t respond, so while his eyes remain on the screen he asks, “Are you judging me? I promise I’m still going to read the rest of the book.”

Finished, he looks over to see MJ staring intently at the open novel. Peter concentrates on the book first―she’s right near the end―then on his friend’s face. Is she…?

“Are you crying?” he asks softly, leaning towards her.

He thought she might hide her reaction, but she raises her head and sniffs as tears pour down her cheeks. She’s so naked with emotion that Peter shudders.

“Maybe,” she says, making them both laugh, hers a bubbling noise from the wetness in her throat. “But ignore this. I said I wouldn’t spoil the ending for you.”

“Obviously, nothing dramatic happens,” Peter sarcastically infers. “You cry all the time. I have zero reason to think it has anything to do with Me Before You.”

Smiling, she finally wipes the last of her tears away with the sleeve of her cardigan.

“I still have a little bit left to read.”

“Borrow it,” he says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I can listen to the audiobook for a while, or you can just keep it overnight and we’ll hang out tomorrow and I’ll get it back from you. Unless you think you’d need longer.”

MJ rolls her eyes at him.

“Please. I eat Jojo Moyeses for breakfast. I’ll probably finish it during the break in my next class.”

“So, you wouldn’t even need it overnight then,” he says, trying to be sly. She lets out a laugh.

“You want to read it so badly, don’t you?”

“Maybe I just don’t like lending out my books.”

“Liar. I bet you’re going to read the rest all in one sitting.” MJ smirks and stands the book on the table like both she and it are taunting him. “Don’t you need to prioritize your other courses, Peter? What about Biology?”

“Offer revoked,” he tells her, making to take the book back. She doesn’t let him, holding it up and away from him.

“Are you going to spend all night reading for pleasure instead of doing your science homework? Shame on you, Peter. What about your future?”

He stands too quickly in his attempt to grab the book, startling MJ, who rocks back in her chair a little too far. But it can’t tip faster than his reflexes can react; Peter instinctively grabs her around the waist and pulls her against him as the chair topples and the paperback hits the ground with a soft thump. They haven’t been this close since they hugged after his midterm results. He opens and closes his mouth without saying anything, fingers shifting against MJ’s back as she gets her balance. Seems to take her longer than it should, but he won’t let go before she’s ready. Which’ll be any second now, he’s sure. She’s flushed, eyes roaming his face. Probably about to tell him she can stand all on her fucking own.

Any second now.

NG, Celeste ― Everything I Never Told You

It’s the second week in December and their final tutoring session of the semester. Exams start tomorrow, though the one for English 1034 isn’t until the 21st. Peter should be psyched―after this exam, he’s halfway done the course―and yet his shoulders carry some heaviness into the library, along with big, wet snowflakes. He perks up at the sight of MJ, then grows subdued just as fast. They’ve become the kind of friends who meet during the week, always at school, usually with at least the pretense of studying. She’s never been to the apartment he shares with three roommates; he has no idea where she lives. Their most secure connection is a list of 26 books and after today’s session, 14 of those will already be behind them. Theoretically, they’re committed to spending another semester together (unless the world ends via hostile alien takeover, or Mr. Stark fires MJ again and she agrees to it for some reason). What happens after that?

Peter doesn’t like the way winter break looks like a preview for the end of the school year in April. He’s sure that’ll come up quick after the new year because second semester always feels shorter than first. Will they be close enough by then to make plans for hanging out over the summer? He knows MJ’s from here, but not if she’ll be around. And what about next year? He won’t be studying English. Are they gonna see each other on campus or both be too busy with their final year of undergrad―keeping up grades and searching for their first job opportunities right out of college? And then? Will one or both of them move away for work or grad school, or just to find a cheaper place to live while they’re starting out? Seriously, they could be faint memories to each other in under five years.

He's weighed down with all of this as he flops into his seat at their table.

“Do you think you’re ready?” MJ asks just before she glances up.

“What?” Peter replies, devastated.

“For your exam.” She meets his eye and her expression collapses inward a little as she assesses his mood. “What’s wrong?”

He looks at her face. It’s easy to admit to himself that her eyes are more trusting than they used to be when they stared back into his, and he has to allow that she’s more trusting too. Same with him. They’ve smoothed each other out, rounded off each other’s bluntest angles. Peter has no desire for them to ever have another shouting match like they did during the early weeks of this arrangement. In fact, his ideal dynamic for them would be the complete opposite.

“I guess I’m… worried.”

“We should get together next week.”

“That would be great,” he tells her with eager relief.

Wow, what would they do? Grab lunch? Dinner? Hot chocolates and ice skating at Rockefeller Center? A movie at his place? All of his roommates have early or no exams (lucky bastards) and plans to head home for the holidays right after, leaving him alone in the apartment.

“This is a late exam,” MJ says, doublechecking the date in her planner, which includes all of his deadlines (in red ink) alongside hers (in blue), “but the library’s open practically every day but Christmas.”

Oh. She means get together here. Of course. He didn’t really make it clear that the exam isn’t what he’s worried about, or at least it’s not the main thing.

“Well,” Peter says, “consistency.”

“What’s up with you?” she asks, narrowing her eyes are him, apparently not satisfied since he does still sound kinda bereft.

Retrieving his novel and his laptop, he says, “Nothing,” and thinks, I was just wishing we were more than friends.

OZEKI, Ruth ― A Tale for the Time Being

They hang out once before his exam, when MJ helps Peter with prep, and once after, when he’s getting a jump on his reading for semester two. The second time, totally by accident, she meets May.

MJ’s at his apartment for the first time and the two out of three of his roommates who’ve already returned are being loud enough that Peter can’t forget their existence the way he wants to (just for right now) and ignore everything in the world that isn’t his tutor/friend/person he’s been pining for every spare second since they’ve been apart. Two weeks is too long. They’re finally taking an honest crack at the novel he’s been assigned for next week, the first week back at school, when there’s a knock at the door, followed by cheerful hollering from his roommates. Peter knows who it is even before he rises and sheepishly lets his aunt hand him everything he forgot at home when he packed; his roommates love May.

Though he told MJ she didn’t have to get up, she’s suddenly next to him at the door―he’s startled to feel her briefly lean against him―then being pulled into a hug by his aunt. When she leaves for a minute to go to the washroom, May drags Peter away from his roommates.

“Who was that?” she wonders, face lighting up with curiosity and premature excitement.

He feels himself turn red and itches at his cheek like he can scratch the flush out.

“Just a friend.”

His aunt raises her eyebrows doubtfully.

PALAHNIUK, Chuck ― Choke

After spending last Thursday giving A Tale for the Time Being the attention they should’ve the week before, they’re back on schedule with a new book. Sort of back on schedule. They start off discussing the novel, but when Peter runs one of his prof’s assertions about it past Google, he finds out Choke has a movie version. He and MJ glance at each other. Yeah, why not? It’s only their second week back on campus and they don’t have their full studying stamina back yet. They trek down to the film library in the basement to see if they have a copy.

Soon, they’re wearing bulky borrowed headphones, hunkered down at the corner computer in the viewing lab that’s kept in the dark, watching a film about a sex addict. They’re awkward at first, or maybe it’s just Peter, but eventually he relaxes, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. MJ shifts around next to him. She kicks her shoes off and brings her feet up off the floor. They’re tightly side by side to watch the same computer screen, so when she crosses her legs, her knee lands on his thigh. Peter stares at it for a minute in the screen’s glow, missing the movie. He lays his palm on top of the rough, cool denim, and MJ turns her head to see what’s up. Immediately, he moves to withdraw his hand from her knee, but she pats the back of it, giving him permission.

Heart thumping, Peter eases the headphones off one ear. The room’s completely quiet, apart from the way MJ exhales heavily through her nose as she settles into position for the rest of the film. He swallows. He should tell her, right now.

“Hey, MJ…” he starts.

But she doesn’t look, doesn’t turn. Can’t hear anything outside those fucking headphones. Weirdly, she does glance at him a few minutes later, unprompted. She reaches out and pauses the movie. He lifts his headphones off when she does, eyes drawn to how they mess up her hair.

“Did you say something?” MJ asks.

Now, now, now, Peter tells himself.

“Uh, no.” He gives her a tight smile and unpauses Choke.

QUICK, Matthew ― The Good Luck of Right Now

“You have other friends, right?” Peter wonders aloud as MJ reads over the short responses he’s composed for an online participation thing that his prof made worth a truly stupid 4% of his grade.

“A couple.”

She says it straight, unembarrassed. He understands her well enough to know she has no interest in tricking people into believing she’s more social or at all inclined towards networking. Those people, whoever they are, were lucky to have her let them in. Abruptly, Peter realizes he’s probably being counted among them. He grins to himself.

“Plus, like, class friends.”

“Sure,” he agrees.

He does the same thing―always attempts to figure out who seems nice so he can try to be paired with them for group projects or have someone to sit with if they have another class together in the future.

“Any other kind of friends?” Peter asks tentatively. MJ quits reading his laptop screen and side-eyes him. “Like a… like maybe a boyfriend?”

It’s probably a no. It has to be a no. Even with the length of time it took for them to talk about their personal lives, she would’ve mentioned a boyfriend by now. Wouldn’t she?

“I… a boyfriend? No, I… Why would I have…? Do you?”

Well, this is a surprise. He expected her to either answer straightforwardly or question if he ever listens to what she says. But she’s oddly flustered and inarticulate. And blushing, Peter notices, though she won’t let him hold her gaze.

“No,” he says, settling for the single syllable that’ll do the job.

MJ sort of nods, then directs his attention to the screen.

“Just a question, but has anyone ever taught you how to use basic punctuation? Jesus, Parker.”

As much as that comment’s much more in character, every one of his senses screams, ‘MISDIRECTION!’

ROWELL, Rainbow ― Fangirl

“Say nothing,” MJ instructs when they run into each other in front of the library, coming from opposite directions.

About what? Peter wants to ask, but he doesn’t say even that much because the look on her face is intense and because the wind is icy, slicing their faces with snow that’s more like sharp daggers. He bounds up the stairs next to her and straight inside when she jerks the door open with her mittened hand. All the way upstairs and to their table, he keeps wary eyes on her. He only looks away for a minute to set his backpack down and shrug out of his outer layers; the library’s kept almost stiflingly warm and dry. They pile their wet outerwear on one of the extra chairs, then MJ glares at him before he can sit. He stares back, baffled.

“Nothing,” she reminds him, and unzips her hoodie.

Does he look silly with the way his jaw drops? He can’t even care. She’s wearing a Spider-Man t-shirt.

“I―”

“No words. No sounds of any kind.”

So Peter grins in silence and retrieves the usual studying accessories from his backpack. Eventually, MJ groans out her admission.

“I forgot to do laundry.”

He continues to say nothing about the shirt, even when he is permitted to speak so they can discuss his reading. What he wants to say isn’t something she’d like―that he’s deduced from the laundry comment that this is an old shirt, not a recent buy. Meaning she’s had it since who knows how long before she ever met him. Meaning she’s a fan.

SENNA, Danzy ― New People

“How are you liking the course?” MJ asks him out of the blue. She’s tracing the curving shapes and purple letters on the cover of this week’s book with her fingertip.

Peter laughs.

“My prof’s never even asked us that.”

“That’s because profs don’t want honest answers. Only in essays, and even then, you have to pad them with all the shit the prof said in class in order to stroke their ego into giving you a good mark.”

“Cynical.”

She smiles dryly.

“Thank you. But really, how are you finding it?” She looks nervous about how he might answer.

“A lot of work,” he says honestly, “but it also feels like less work than my other courses.”

“Because it’s a fluff discipline compared to Biology?”

“Stop it, no, because you’re helping me. It feels like something I’m doing for fun.”

“Who are you?” MJ shakes her head, wearing a smug smile. “If the you from September could see you now. Oh, actually, that reminds me. Put your number in.”

She hands him the new phone she mentioned she’d be getting last weekend.

“What did you have me saved as in your old one?” he asks, adding his number to a new contact page. MJ takes the phone back before he can input his name.

“Oh, you don’t want to know.” He’s fairly certain she’s joking.

“Did it contain the word ‘dickhead’?”

She shrugs and slouches in her chair, phone held low and close. She finishes entering his information out of his line of sight.

“You’ll never know.”

Maybe not, Peter thinks, when MJ gets up a while later to refill her water bottle, but he can at least check what she has him under now. She left her phone out on the table, screen up, so he texts her an innocuous ‘testing, testing’ and watches for the new message to pop up.

Evidently, he’s in her phone as his normal name. His name, plus a heart. His real one’s suddenly beating very fast.

THIEN, Madeleine ― Do Not Say We Have Nothing

It’s almost Valentine’s Day and their college’s week-long study week, two compelling reasons for Peter to tell Michelle Jones―tutor, friend, precariously deepening crush―how he feels about her.

Before their tutoring session, he psyches himself up in the bathroom mirror, until other people walk in and he has to pretend to be coughing. He doesn’t really feel ready and their time together ends up being sort of a flurry anyway because part of the library’s being painted and there are fewer tables. With a ton of people on the cusp of more exams and big assignments due before the break, it takes Peter and MJ a while to find a table. Even after that, the paint smell gradually fills the air, forcing them to stop early.

God, and he didn’t say anything!

“We should meet up later,” he asserts firmly, at the same moment MJ says, “Try again tonight?”

“Yeah,” they say together.

Peter grins and she smiles back before quickly ducking her head. He bites his lip, restraining himself from catching her chin with his fingers and tilting it up.

“Ok then,” he says. “Ok. The library’ll probably still stink, so… my apartment?”

“Or my place,” MJ offers, slightly wide-eyed.

“Oh, yeah. That would be, that’d be good.”

“You can walk back with me, if you don’t mind waiting for my class.”

He doesn’t, and they do that, and as MJ’s unlocking the door to her apartment, he finds out two things: that she has a roommate and that her roommate’s staying the night at her boyfriend’s. Whatever, that doesn’t mean it’s going to be romantic or anything. They’re discussing art and politics during China’s calamitous Cultural Revolution. There’s no way MJ would even be thinking about… but then she leads him to the couch instead of the kitchen table. And she sits down next to him, letting their thighs touch. And his breathing just isn’t steady for the hangout that goes two hours before they even think to check the time. So many times, he has the feeling they’re one brush of their legs, one bump of their shoulders, one tuck of her hair with his fingers away from something more, but every chance seems to come and go while the tension stays.

Eventually, Peter gathers his stuff and lingers with her in the open doorway of her apartment. She’s leaning into the frame, smiling at him as he says a bunch of nothing, just to make the night last longer. He takes a breath. Ok, he’s gonna do it. He’ll tell her.

The next second, MJ’s pressing her mouth to his. Then, while he’s still dazed from the kiss, she pushes him out the door and says, “Um, see you after study week, Peter.”

URQUHART, Jane ― The Night Stages

What’s this mean? Peter wants to ask her, right after the kiss and for the whole study break. Except he’s in the city, doing Spidey-patrol and finishing the nearly-500 pages of Do Not Say We Have Nothing, and she’s in New Orleans, building affordable housing with a charity. When he texts her because he can’t resist asking how she is and what she’s working on that day, she always gets back to him, but there’s nothing flirtatious in her words, nothing to assure him she shares his preoccupation over the kiss. So startling, so make-the-hair-stand-up-on-the-back-of-his-neck. And it was supposed to make everything clear, when one of them made a move (in his head over the weeks before it happened, it was him), not confuse the hell out of him.

It's awkward when they meet on campus on Monday. Neither of them goes in for a hug and they carry on a stilted conversation about how each of their breaks went, Peter twisting his fingers around in his sleeves. At least they didn’t postpone this until Thursday. He senses that they’re both thankful for the length of this week’s novel and how many times it guarantees they’ll meet (their productivity per session definitely took a nosedive when they became friends). He assumes the relief comes from wanting to push past this awkward stage by getting used to each other again. Then, when they meet in the library the next day, MJ picks a different table. Actually, a completely different floor. It’s basically dead, no other students or staff in sight, and, with his face flushed with desire and anticipation, she braces a hand on his thigh, leans in, and kisses him for the second time.

On Wednesday, it’s the same spot (but later because Peter has an evening lab) and he initiates, hand on the back of her neck as they kiss slow and deep, never even unpacking their bags.

Thursday, they meet at their old table, like normal, and do some actual work. But that night, he walks MJ home and tries to give her a goodbye kiss that turns into them making out with her pressed up against the closed door of her apartment.

They agree, on Friday morning, that Peter really needs to devote some concentration to this novel, so they study at his place that evening. Because all of his roommates are home, they’re camped out in his room, on his bed, but with his door wide open. The most they attempt is holding hands, anxiously separating when one of his buddies pokes a head in to ask if Peter’s seen his phone charger.

By Saturday, at her apartment, they abandon pretenses, though they haven’t exactly said in words what it is they’re doing without those pretenses. Are they friends who kiss? Are they dating? Is MJ his girlfriend? None of that is as pressing as pulling her onto his lap and kissing her until they’re tired and she checks her phone to see that it’s almost two in the morning. Reluctantly, MJ climbs off his lap and Peter watches her disappear into her bedroom. He strips off his jeans and falls asleep on her couch wrapped in a blanket and his school hoodie.

The next morning, they look over his notes because he’s here and they might as well. Their socked feet overlap beneath her kitchen table. She refills his glass of orange juice before he notices it’s almost empty.

VÁSQUEZ, Juan Gabriel ― The Sound of Things Falling

He’s in love with her. It’s the beginning of March, the air has quit biting, MJ’s blushing when he uses his high school Spanish to correctly pronounce the characters’ names, and he’s in love with her.

WALKER, Karen Thompson ― The Dreamers

Peter falls asleep at her place again. This time, MJ’s tucked into him when he wakes up. Gradually, he drags up a fuzzy memory of her padding into the living room during the night, putting him on alert until she nudged him over to make room on the couch. Her roommate’s home. They don’t care, don’t flinch apart when she walks into the room. He hangs around most of Saturday, only leaving because he really needs to do some work on his other courses. MJ kisses him when he goes, gently stroking his earlobe with her thumb.

X ― N/A

“No X?” she checks. “Are you sure?”

“It’s on the syllabus,” Peter points out, pulling MJ’s feet across his thighs as he eats an apple. They found an alternate study spot that allows food.

“Yeah, I know, I have the copy from the beginning of the year, but I figured your prof would update it to add something.”

“I think he told us one time that he was going to,” he says, trying to remember exactly. “Now, he says he was always planning on leaving this week free for us to ask questions in class before the exam.”

“But there are still two full weeks of classes before exams,” MJ says skeptically. “If this break was intentional, he’d do it the last week of classes instead.”

“I don’t know. I mean, I know there are two weeks left, but I don’t know what else to say. No X.”

“Semi-related,” she prefaces, giving him a serious look that makes Peter pay attention, “is it ok with you if I consider you my boyfriend?”

He laughs until he realizes she looks genuinely unsure of what his answer will be.

“Please.”

Peter holds his apple out of the way when MJ wiggles forward to hug him.

YAZDANIAN, Showey ― Loopholes

“You wanna go somewhere with me?” MJ asks.

Peter knows she’s been watching him rearrange the digital copy of his notes―simplifying and streamlining so they’ll be easy to study from between now and the date of his final exam. It’s very comforting, her undemanding gaze, and he feels himself emotionally stretching into it, like a cat. He loves to be near her. His girlfriend.

“Yes,” he says. “I mean, where?”

She laughs gently at him and props her elbow on the table, right next to his.

“The English Department scheduled a year-end trip to see a play.”

“That sounds very… high schoolish,” he decides, grinning.

“Hey, some of us aren’t too up our own asses to understand the thrill of a field trip. Maybe in Biology―”

“Ugh,” Peter groans jokingly at her relentless, unserious digs at his chosen discipline.

“―you’ve lost your sense of childlike wonder.”

“But I might be able to get it back if I go to this play? What’s the play?”

“Romeo and Juliet,” she mumbles.

“You want to see that? It’s depressing and, and overdramatic,” he states, though he’s never seen it performed, and definitely never read the play.

“I don’t really care about seeing the play,” MJ says as she gives him a meaningful look.

“Oh. Aw.” He smiles at the thought that she just wants to spend time with him. “Do I have to sign up or something?”

“I… might have already signed you up.” Peter raises his eyebrows at her and it’s enough to push her to continue. “It’s supposed to be an internal thing, just English majors, but the turnout for anything with any significant cultural value’s always really low―” MJ rolls her eyes. “―especially right at the end of the year, when people are starting to focus on exams, even though it’s a great opportunity to see a high-quality production with cheap student-group-discount tickets. Anyway, I talked to the prof because he knows me from teaching me last year and asked if you could come because you are taking an English class even if you’re not majoring.”

“He agreed?”

She nods.

“As I suspected, there were a bunch of tickets left over because they always reserve too many. They’re great seats.”

“Why are you trying to convince me to come?” Peter teases. “Apparently, I already signed up.”

Despite the dozens of times they’ve met this year, comprising probably a hundred hours, and the affectionate admissions, and the kissing that’s been driving him insane for more, this is their first date date. He’s excited to be at the theatre because he’s never gone before, and he purposely didn’t tell Mr. Stark about this so he wouldn’t try to pay for it; Peter bought his own ticket. They’re deep into the second part of the play, intermission behind them, and before things can get gruesome on stage with the stars meeting their violent ends, he leans in so close to MJ that his nose brushes her ear.

“You’re my best friend,” he whispers.

She turns her head, smile clamped together by the way she’s biting her bottom lip. There’s joy in her eyes that makes his heart drop and flip and soar back up, too high, into his throat. He’s still looking at her when she turns her face back to the performance.

“Also, I love you,” Peter says, almost choking on his heart.

Swiftly, he kisses her cheek and settles back into his seat, but MJ tugs the hand that’s been entwined with hers since they sat down. She leans across the armrest between their seats and he’s happy to move the rest of the way. Something hot courses through him when she not only kisses him more roughly than he anticipated but grabs the tie he wore with his button-up, blazer, and good jeans. When she releases him with a smirk and a pat on his chest, Peter practically collapses back into place, stunned.

“Oh,” MJ adds, glancing at him again in a quick flick, “I love you too.”

ZOBOI, Ibi ― Pride

There are three stacks of books on the surprisingly nice hardwood floor of MJ’s bedroom. It’s small compared to the size of his sense of accomplishment for seeing this demanding course through to the end. Although this is the first time Peter’s assembled all 25 books at once, they aren’t organized alphabetically; there’s a pile each for books he remembers well, those he wants to reread sections of, and ones where, logically, he knows he read them, and yet he can barely recall the plot. He feels pretty goddamn good about the fact that, out of 25, only 2 made the third pile. Actually, one’s unaccounted for, because it’s the last book on his syllabus and it’s currently dangling from his hand while he takes a break from reading it.

“Hey,” he hisses at MJ.

Lying on her back on her soft, thick rug while she studies for one of her exams, his girlfriend angles her head to look at Peter, hanging over the side of her bed.

“What?”

He grins.

“Nothing. Just wanted to say, ‘hey.’” He’s so used to her rolling her eyes. “How’s the floor?”

“Not bad.”

“You wanna come up here?”

MJ eyes him suspiciously.

“I need to study,” she reminds him. “Everything I know about your books got mixed up with everything I’m supposed to know about my books and I’m still mentally untangling.”

Peter keeps staring down at her, trying to make his eyes wide and pleading. It takes her seconds to give in. She groans as she starts to sit up, appearing to lead with her knees and elbows as she rearranges her limbs, collapsing and unfolding like a portable lawn chair. MJ steps gingerly over his book stacks, then he’s grabbing her waist and pulling her to the bed, where she flops down beside him. Her head’s facing the wrong way though, so Peter shuffles around, getting her socks out of his face. They take turns sighing tiredly―the extreme burdens of another year of lectures over and another round of exams about to begin―then Peter tilts his forehead to touch hers.

“Happy you’re almost at the end?” MJ asks softly.

“Yeah, but I also kinda wish I could take another English class next year. I think I actually did better in Bio this year because I got to take a break from it with something that was totally different. Does that sound possible?”

“Mhmm.”

She lets her eyes close―probably resting them after concentrating for so long.

“I’ll miss reading this much.”

“And?”

With her eyes shut, only her eyebrows prompt him to go on.

“And I’ll miss talking about what I read with you,” he says.

“Maybe you don’t need to worry about that,” she suggests.

“Why not?”

MJ smiles.

“Because I’ve been working on a new list of books I think you’ll like since October. We can meet in the library and talk about them.”

“Every week?” Peter checks. “What about Biology?”

“If you have time,” she clarifies.

“No, I mean I’ve spent a year studying English lit, learning about your discipline.” With a grin, he trails his fingers down MJ’s throat, stopping at the neck of her long-sleeved shirt. “So, I was just wondering, if you’d be interested in studying Biology.”

He kisses her neck where he stroked, then up beneath her jaw, making MJ laugh until she gasps instead, gripping his hair.

“I don’t think we should wait for September.”

“Well, you’re still the tutor for another week,” Peter reminds her. “I’ll follow your lead.”

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 67: Home

Keith returns to his first home, and brings Lance to meet his father. But first, a tiny bit of fluff to soften(?) the blow

TRIGGER WARNING: This episode includes the themes of loss and grief, which be distressing to some readers. Please take care of yourselves <3<3<3

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Keith’s home is simple, four domes, one visibly newer than the others, and one with a new roof. The stove and fireplace have also been redone quite recently. There's also a little garden plot now, overgrown with unkempt flowering plants, lovely in its little patch of wilderness.

“Ah, Mom added a washroom. Thank fuck. Lake’s cold as shit for a bath… It was nice of her to fix the place up. I’d always assumed I’d come back out here when I finished my service.”

“I never really thought about your aspirations had you stayed,” Lance ponders.

“Mnh. Nothing special. Do my time in the military, maybe find a mate, come back here for a while, then travel the stars. Try to find Earth, where my name comes from. But I’m doing something different, and that’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“Being mated to you, raising our kits, and looking after the Altean Empire? It’s not what I imagined, but I like it well enough. I’m happy.” And, because Lance doesn’t quite look convinced, “Really, Lance. Our life together makes me happy. Come on. I’ll show you around. We’ll unpack, and then we can swim in the lake, and you can see the waterfall.”

Lance watches Keith carefully, unsure of how he’ll react now that he’s home. They carry their things inside, watching the breeze roll red earth over the red stone floor. The main room is simple: a small fireplace with a narrow chimney, a knotted rug, a pair of chairs, a stool. Draped over the newer-looking of the two chairs -the other looks rather weathered- is a thin, threadbare cloth blanket, sun-bleached red. Keith smiles, picking it up.

“This was my blanket when I was kit. I couldn’t sleep without it. I left it here when I went with Shiro. I thought it might get taken away… I wonder if we could use it for something.”

“What, like for a baby?” At Keith’s nod, Lance continues. “It looks pretty thin, but maybe Pidge could do something with it. They act callous about it, but they actually really like kids, and not as science experiments. Not exclusively, anyway. It’s cute that you’re thinking about that stuff already.”

“It’s not like we’ll have a lot of time to devote to that stuff once we get home. We’ve delegated pretty much all of our duties for now, but that won’t last long. I have to think about while I have time.”

“Well don’t think about it alone. I’m right here. I already told you: I’m not going to be like the ol’ sperm donor back home.”

“Ugh.” Keith rolls his eyes, turning to open the cellar by the table. “I don’t want to look, think, or hear about your sperm donor ever again. He will never be left alone with our kits.”

“Good idea. Given the chance, he’ll gift them weapons and tell them they’ll take a life before they’re twenty.” Lance sighs. “You are going to let him see our kits, right?”

“Of course! He’s their grandfather! If he wants to see them, and can behave himself, then I want him to. Under supervision. My mother on the other hand…” Keith frowns, stands, brushes earth from his clothes.

“What?”

“Nevermind. Just more family drama. We have enough already.” Keith huffs. “Come on. I want to go swimming.”

“Can’t say no to that!” Lance chirps, skipping after his spouse. He doesn’t believe it’s ‘just family drama’ at all, but he’ll let Keith tell him in his own time. Just like he'll let the young man stall doing what he actually wants to do.

So instead of pressing his stressed spouse, Lance serves to distract him, swimming with him, basking in the waning sun, shoving his head under the water, getting into splash fights, and not acting at all like the prince he is. Which is fine, because they’re alone, and this is a very short respite before their lives get even more complicated. Taking time to 'mess around' in a small alcove behind a waterfall doesn’t hurt either.

Later, settling back against the rock face to watch Keith float in lazy circles, he finds himself wishing, for the very first time in his life, that he weren’t who he is, and for only the millionth time that he could make every last one of Keith’s days exactly like this one.

Keith swam up to the ledge Lance was sitting on, fitting in between his legs. “You okay?”

“Mhm. Just watching.”

“Ah. See anything you like?” Keith rests his cheek against the inside of Lance’s leg.

“Many things… You’re being very cute.”

“Still riding the high of being mated to you. It’ll wear off in a few quintants.” Keith kisses the bare skin at the inside of his thigh, smirking when Lance jolts.

“Just in time for your season. Brat.”

“Yeah. I can’t seem to catch a break, can I?”

“You know we can change that if you want. And I’ll make it as easy for you as I can.” Lance’s stomach growls audibly, making Keith laugh, nuzzling against Lance’s leg, more sweet than sexy. They’ve been apart, physically, most of the day. He could probably do with some physical affection. The platonic kind.

Lance has caught on to just how important that contact is to Galra. When not working or in uniform, they’re a comparatively clingy species.

“Hungry?” Keith teases when Lance’s stomach growls again.

“I’ve been hungry since before we even got here!” Lance laughs, brushing dripping clumps of hair out of Keith’s face.

“You could have said something. We could have eaten already.”

“Yeah, well. I had better things to do. Like watching my husband have some fun for once.”

“Oh, come on, I have lots of-” Keith frowns. “You never call me your husband. Not unless you have to.”

“Yes, well.” Lance gazes at his husband, eyes soft. “It never really felt like you were. And you think gendering everything is stupid, so…”

“It’s fine.” Keith swims around, hauling himself up to sit beside his mate, cuddling up against his side, tail serving as an extra limb to hold him close. “I mean, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather call you my mate than anything else. That’s what actually means something to me. That's the word I choose for my life partner. And you should call me whatever means something to you. Whatever that is. Even if that’s just ‘my contracted roommate’.”

Lance laughs. “That’s… incredibly sweet. Sweeter than I expected, honestly.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps a lecture on the arbitrary constructs of sex and gender?”

“Tempting.” Keith laces their hands together, nuzzling against his pointed ear. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “But I have something I need to do. I've stalled long enough. Will you come with me?”

“Of course.” If Keith doesn't want to go alone, Lance won't allow him to.

After grabbing a small bag from the den, Keith leads him through the last varga of light before sunset, weaving through trees like he still knows every root beneath his bare feet. BleepBloop eventually finds and joins them on their walk, presumably well-rested after sleeping the entire way there. The small primate remains mostly in the trees, leaping through the branches above, chittering and screeching at Keith to join him.

“We used to use the trees when we were out here,” Keith explains. “It tended to be safer than the ground. And most Alteans don’t tend to look up.”

“They really don’t. To be fair, it's unusual for fully-grown Galra to be hiding in trees. They don't exactly blend in.” The two laugh.

It fades quickly, when they stop at the edge of a ravine, Keith looking down. Without a word, t he Galra begins slipping down the side of the ravine, toward the water at the bottom. He moves with sure, practiced grace, aided further by familiarity with his surroundings, hyper aware of any changes. Lance is not so fortunate, slipping and sliding down the narrow ledges.

At one point, he loses his balance, falling back with a gasp. Fortunately, Keith manages to grab his arm, keeping him from falling to creek twenty dashes below. “You alright?”

“Fine. Just… struggling.” Lance does his best time hide how shaken he is. He can't imagine tiny, undersized Little Keith making this descent.

“Watch my feet. Put yours exactly where I put mine.”

With Keith moving slower, he’s more able to move safely down the side of the ravine. “This is much better. Thank you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think about it before.” Keith settles his feet into the sandy bottom. “I’ll help you back up… We should have done this earlier. It’ll be dark pretty soon.”

“You weren't ready, earlier. Don't worry. I can make light for us if need be.”

Keith’s not really listening, Lance can tell. Tail swaying, ears pricked, the Galra stares at a pile of rocks, roughly the length of a grown, male Galra, and about two dashes high.

“Is that-”

“Yeah. I was only six, so I couldn’t exactly move him. The rocks kept scavengers off of him. It’s how we’d protect kills if we weren’t ready to clean them.” Keith wades through the shallow creek, ears drooped. “Some of his smaller bones have probably washed away. The rest will too, sooner or later.”

“I’m sorry, beloved.”

“It’s fine. He’d be okay with that. My dad… He loved it out here, feeling like a part of something natural, something alive and thriving, all while minding its own business. This is where he belonged. Becoming a part of it is what he would have wanted anyway. It was me that wasn’t ready.”

Lance has never really thought before about life without his parents. Sure, he’s never had his mother, but he’s grown up with two fathers. Even before Alfor officially remarried when Lance was seven, Coran was his parent. Lance has only ever called him ‘daddy’, and later ‘dad’.

Thinking about it now, Lance can’t imagine losing either of them. Sure, he doesn’t typically get along with Alfor, but Alfor is his father, and the king. He’s an extremely important figure in Lance’s life. And Coran…

Coran, with his permissive attitude and his terrible advice and weird anecdotes and random facts and always being there to soften the blow when Lance screws up- Losing either of them would be devastating. It’s a terrible thing to think about, and it’s Keith’s reality.

So when Keith says he wasn’t ready to let go, Lance says, “I wouldn’t be, either. I don’t know that I ever could be.”

But he'd be ready to be Akira in a heartbeat.

Keith doesn’t respond, very quiet as he finds a bit of dry sand. He pulls a clay bowl, the inside caked in ash, from his bag, pours in the rest of the bag’s contents. A feather. A few different stones. A glass bottle filled with several layers of different colored sediments, which he opens and pours into the bowl. Herbs. Another, smaller bottle of a fragrant oil, which is also poured out.

From his belt, Keith removes a pair of stones, striking them together until he creates a spark. Sitting cross-legged in the wet sand, Keith stares at the low-burning flames. He only has until the flames die before Akira's spirit is finally sent on. Krolia got to convene, and now it's his turn. After this, the gods will take his father away, and nothing but bones will be left.

It's part of the reason he was stalling. This is a final goodbye, and that's always a hard thing.

“Hi, Dad. I kept my promise. I’ve come home…” Keith sighs, looking up at the sky as his eyes immediately start to sting. Lance sits right behind him, rests his cheek on Keith’s shoulder. “But, uh… It’s not really home anymore. I’ve been gone a long time, and- I think it’s okay, don’t you? It’s okay for this to be my sometimes home instead Home home, right? I mean- Fuck, I’m bad at this.”

Lance’s arm curls around his waist from behind, gentle and comforting, just enough for him to know he’s there. “Just talk, beloved. That’s all you have to do.”

“What I’m saying is… You did it. You protected me, and- I survived, because of you. And now, I get to live.” Keith rubs tears into his fur, sniffling. He still really, really misses his dad. Every day, he feels that empty space where Akira used to be. “I have a new home, and a good mate, and we’ll have kits, and a good life, and I hate that you had to die to give me that -

"And it's fine. Everything will be fine. I'll rule Altea with Lance, and help Lotor honor your wishes for Daibazaal, and I'll be a good uncle for his kits, and I'll be a good father, and I'll help keep the peace and you don't have to worry, okay? I'll be just fine. Better than fine, even.

“And that's fine. Really! I just- I just wish you were here. More than anything, I wish you were still here. I miss you so much..." Keith practically falls against Lance, still heartborken. "There are so many things I'll never get to see. I'll never get to see you and Mom together. I'll never get to see you with Lance, or our kits. I'll never get to see you proud of me, and everything that I'm working for. And I know that you are, but I’ll never get to hear you say it and it sucks.”

Keith takes a deep breath. The offering flame is already fading, and with it, his time to convene. “I’m sorry you died, but I’m glad that I’m still here, and I’m grateful to you for that.” The last of the flames gutter out. “I love you and I miss you, Dad. And I’ll see you again. I'll tell you everything you missed.”

They’re left in the dark, Lance wrapping around him, holding him tight.

“Do you- Was it good enough?” Keith croaks, rubbing at his eyes.

“It was perfect, baby. It’s not a speech. It sounded just like you, and that’s good.”

“He was my whole world,” Keith whispers, clutching BleepBloop as the concerned primate climbs into his lap. “And then he was gone.”

“I know, beloved. I know.” Lance rocks them gently. “Are you ready to go back?”

“Can we- Can we stay here for a little bit? Please?”

“However long you want.”

Lance lifts his hands, forming a few tiny werelights to hover above them, pale, gentle light to keep the dark at bay. It’s a good change from being trapped alone in the dark, just Keith and BleepBloop. Now, there’s him, his mate, his pet, and the imprint of his father’s life and legacy. Beyond this little circle, there’s friends and family. A purpose. A home. A future.

A good life, all because of the thing that he lost.

That one, precious, irreplaceable thing.

[perfectirishgifts]

8 Leading Women In The Field Of AI

New Post has been published on https://perfectirishgifts.com/8-leading-women-in-the-field-of-ai/

8 Leading Women In The Field Of AI

These eight women are at the forefront of the field of artificial intelligence today. They hail from … [] academia, startups, large technology companies, venture capital and beyond.

It is a simple truth: the field of artificial intelligence is far too male-dominated. According to a 2018 study from Wired and Element AI, just 12% of AI researchers globally are female.

Artificial intelligence will reshape every corner of our lives in the coming years—from healthcare to finance, from education to government. It is therefore troubling that those building this technology do not fully represent the society they are poised to transform.

Yet there are many brilliant women at the forefront of AI today. As entrepreneurs, academic researchers, industry executives, venture capitalists and more, these women are shaping the future of artificial intelligence. They also serve as role models for the next generation of AI leaders, reflecting what a more inclusive AI community can and should look like.

Featured below are eight of the leading women in the field of artificial intelligence today.

Joy Buolamwini: Founder, Algorithmic Justice League

Joy Buolamwini has aptly been described as “the conscience of the A.I. revolution.”

Her pioneering work on algorithmic bias as a graduate student at MIT opened the world’s eyes to the racial and gender prejudices embedded in facial recognition systems. Amazon, Microsoft and IBM each suspended their facial recognition offerings this year as a result of Buolamwini’s research, acknowledging that the technology was not yet fit for public use. Buolamwini’s work is powerfully profiled in the new documentary Coded Bias.

Buolamwini stands at the forefront of a burgeoning movement to identify and address the social consequences of artificial intelligence technology, a movement she advances through her nonprofit Algorithmic Justice League.

Buolamwini on the battle against algorithmic bias: “When I started talking about this, in 2016, it was such a foreign concept. Today, I can’t go online without seeing some news article or story about a biased AI system. People are just now waking up to the fact that there is a problem. Awareness is good—and then that awareness needs to lead to action. That is the phase that we’re in.”

Claire Delaunay: VP Engineering, NVIDIA

From SRI to Google to Uber to NVIDIA, Claire Delaunay has held technical leadership roles at many of Silicon Valley’s most iconic organizations. She was also co-founder and engineering head at Otto, the pedigreed but ill-fated autonomous trucking startup helmed by Anthony Levandowski.

In her current role at NVIDIA, Delaunay is focused on building tools and platforms to enable the deployment of autonomous machines at scale.

Delaunay on the tradeoffs between working at a big company and a startup: “Some kinds of breakthroughs can only be accomplished at a big company, and other kinds of breakthroughs can only be accomplished at a startup. Startups are very good at deconstructing things and generating discontinuous big leaps forward. Big companies are very good at consolidating breakthroughs and building out robust technology foundations that enable future innovation.”

Rana el Kaliouby: CEO & Co-Founder, Affectiva

Rana el Kaliouby has dedicated her career to making AI more emotionally intelligent.

Kaliouby is credited with pioneering the field of Emotion AI. In 2009, she co-founded the startup Affectiva as a spinout from MIT to develop machine learning systems capable of understanding human emotions. Today, the company’s technology is used by 25% of the Fortune 500, including for media analytics, consumer behavioral research and automotive use cases.

Kaliouby on her big-picture vision: “My life’s work is about humanizing technology before it dehumanizes us.”

Daphne Koller: CEO & Founder, insitro

Daphne Koller’s wide-ranging career illustrates the symbiosis between academia and industry that is a defining characteristic of the field of artificial intelligence.

Koller has been a professor at Stanford since 1995, focused on machine learning. In 2012 she co-founded education technology startup Coursera with fellow Stanford professor and AI leader Andrew Ng. Coursera is today a $2.6 billion ed tech juggernaut.

Koller’s most recent undertaking may be her most ambitious yet. She is the founding CEO at insitro, a startup applying machine learning to transform pharmaceutical drug discovery and development. Insitro has raised roughly $250 million from Andreessen Horowitz and others and recently announced a major commercial partnership with Bristol Myers Squibb.

Koller on advice for those just starting out in the field of AI: “Pick an application of AI that really matters, that is really societally worthwhile—not all AI applications are—and then put in the hard work to truly understand that domain. I am able to build insitro today only because I spent 20 years learning biology. An area I might suggest to young people today is energy and the environment.”

Fei-Fei Li: Professor of Computer Science, Stanford University

Few individuals have left more of a mark on the world of AI in the twenty-first century than Fei-Fei Li.

As a young Princeton professor in 2007, Li conceived of and spearheaded the ImageNet project, a database of millions of labeled images that has changed the entire trajectory of AI. The prescient insight behind ImageNet was that massive datasets—more than particular algorithms—would be the key to unleashing AI’s potential. When Geoff Hinton and team debuted their neural network-based model trained on ImageNet at the 2012 ImageNet competition, the modern era of deep learning was born.

Li has since become a tenured professor at Stanford, served as Chief Scientist of AI/ML at Google Cloud, headed Stanford’s AI lab, joined the Board of Directors at Twitter, cofounded the prominent nonprofit AI4ALL, and launched Stanford’s Human-Centered AI Institute (HAI). Across her many leadership positions, Li has tirelessly advocated for a more inclusive, equitable and human approach to AI.

Li on why diversity in AI is so important: “Our technology is not independent of human values. It represents the values of the humans that are behind the design, development and application of the technology. So, if we’re worried about killer robots, we should really be worried about the creators of the technology. We want the creators of this technology to represent our values and represent our shared humanity.”

Anna Patterson: Founder & Managing Partner, Gradient Ventures

Anna Patterson has led a distinguished career developing and deploying AI products, both at large technology companies and at startups.

A long-time executive at Google, which she first joined in 2004, Patterson led artificial intelligence efforts for years as the company’s VP of Engineering. In 2017 she launched Google’s AI venture capital fund Gradient Ventures, where today she invests in early-stage AI startups.

Patterson serves on the board of a number of promising AI startups including Algorithmia, Labelbox and test.ai. She is also a board director at publicly-traded Square.

Patterson on one question she asks herself before investing in any AI startup: “Do I find myself constantly thinking about their vision and mission?”

Daniela Rus: Director, MIT’s Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence Lab (CSAIL)

Daniela Rus is one of the world’s leading roboticists.

She is an MIT professor and the first female head of MIT’s Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence Lab (CSAIL), one of the largest and most prestigious AI research labs in the world. This makes her part of a storied lineage: previous directors of CSAIL (and its predecessor labs) over the decades have included AI legends Marvin Minsky, J.C.R. Licklider and Rodney Brooks.

Rus’ groundbreaking research has advanced the state of the art in networked collaborative robots (robots that can work together and communicate with one another), self-reconfigurable robots (robots that can autonomously change their structure to adapt to their environment), and soft robots (robots without rigid bodies).

Rus on a common misconception about AI: “It is important for people to understand that AI is nothing more than a tool. Like any other tool, it is neither intrinsically good nor bad. It is solely what we choose to do with it. I believe that we can do extraordinarily positive things with AI—but it is not a given that that will happen.”

Shivon Zilis: Board Member, OpenAI; Project Director, Neuralink

Shivon Zilis has spent time on the leadership teams of several companies at AI’s bleeding edge: OpenAI, Neuralink, Tesla, Bloomberg Beta.

She is the youngest board member at OpenAI, the influential research lab behind breakthroughs like GPT-3. At Neuralink—Elon Musk’s mind-bending effort to meld the human brain with digital machines—Zilis works on high-priority strategic initiatives in the office of the CEO.

Zilis on her attitude toward new technology development: “I’m astounded by how often the concept of ‘building moats’ comes up. If you think the technology you’re building is good for the world, why not laser focus on expanding your tech tree as quickly as possible versus slowing down and dividing resources to impede the progress of others?”

From AI in Perfectirishgifts

[idga-buck]

use somebody || two

pairing: harry x plus-size!reader

word count: 1,900

warnings: mentions of sex, douchebaggery, and shitty attitudes towards women.

summary: it’s been weeks and even though he knows better, harry still thinks about you

challenge: @baezen​‘s the Other Guys Writing Challenge

previous masterlist next

gif: @ransomflanagan

Running into you again seemed like a pipe dream. At least until it happened, but Harry had given up on the idea long before then. As he relayed the morning after to Nikki, his friend told him to stop overthinking it. You got laid and you got a good day out of it, what else could you possibly want? An ironic question coming from the guy who’d just gotten back from a four night camping trip that pushed him over the edge and ended the almost three week fling with a bang. Literally. In his annoyance, he kicked a cooler over and three bottles of homemade moonshine broke next to the campfire. He was lucky no one got hurt and Harry… he tried not to laugh, but if there was one thing Nikki was good at, it was making a dramatic exit. It was hard not to take his friends’ words to heart, so he swallowed them. Nikki was right. He met a girl, they had their fun, and the next day he woke up in a king suite, not a cinder block basement with someone trying to wear his skin like a pair of tights. You couldn’t ask for much else in those situations.

Your unexpected rejection stung, no more than any of the others, but the next time he saw you, it was all forgiven. Harry hadn’t realized that his eyes would look for you, but not so he can keep his distance. The opposite. You’d been fun, genuinely funny and it was a trait he forgot he could expect from a woman. So many of these fresh out west girls were terrified of saying the wrong thing and being fedexed right back to Duluth or Kokomo or Sioux Falls or whatever boring midwestern city they’d escaped. The city feels smaller when you’re born there, when you belong. It was just his hometown, not the dreamscape everyone painted it out to be. Most people’s photo op was his childhood memory and he liked it like that. It was just about the only way he felt superior to anyone around him. He’d never be the wealthiest in the room, but he’d always have seniority.

This night was no exception. The party was filled with the future faces of Hollywood, but for now, everyone was a no one who wanted to be someone. Those kinds of gatherings usually annoyed him, but there was music and drinks and no cover charge like the cars and clubs, so he rarely said no when someone snagged an invite. The guys he’d rolled up with were already lurking, watching everyone move and mingle to determine their game for the night. Garret was practicing an accent behind him and Harry spun to punch him in the arm. It was lazy, but effective. Especially with the new girls, whose dream it was to be mistaken for a local, to show some attractive foreigner all the spots they’d been shown during their first “tour.” He laughed loudly, as his friend snatched a glass from the hand of a practically orange mass of muscle wearing sunglasses at night and stumbled over to a fluttering circle of short skirts. It wouldn’t take long for Garret to be coated in their body glitter and the small crew jeered as one small manicured hand slipped up to his neck after only introductions. Marcus slinked over toward the bar next, his shiny bald head and thick black stubble was more than enough to bring the attention to him. His confidence and blinding white smile, paired with a heathered grey t shirt that barely contained his thick pecs, which he could make dance for the entertainment of many ladies, Harry looked away quickly, knowing it was only a matter of time before someone snatched up the effortless charmer too. Nikki remained with him near the entrance. His charm required a lot of effort. Harry had never had a friend that he liked as much as he hated, but that was Nikki’s sweet spot, Operating from behind always as if the self loathing fueled his desire to win someone over. He’d seen it work too many times to count, but Harry still couldn’t believe it. His friend never took know for an answer and just when you thought he’d struck out for the 17th time with the same woman, she’d slide away from him with a “come get me” smile and Nikki’s whole universe was her for the next hour or so.

“They’re back,” Nikki’s shoulder collided with his, nudging Harry in the direction of the friends they’d run into over the last few weeks. He watched them all file in, waving their IDs too quickly to actually be checked as they started dancing before their feet hit the dance floor. It was embarrassing, but he knew that if he was sleeping with one of them, he’d call it adorable. There was always one or two of the group who entered the scene like adults and he couldn’t figure out the group’s dynamic for the life of him. They travelled together, drank together, and seemed to enjoy each other’s company, but it was clearly fragmented and the connection was a mystery. On occasion, you’d be with the girls who shook their heads at the others, but with big smiles nonetheless. Sometimes the whole group could be convinced to dance. It was easier after taking shots. Harry was surprised to see that you weren’t with them tonight. Even more surprising- the disappointment he felt as he rose up onto his toes, hoping he’d just missed your entrance, and still didn’t see you. “Marissa’s pissed at me, so-“

“Maritza,” Harry corrected mindlessly, eyes still on the group his friend would actively avoid for the rest of the night. More disappointment. Nikki had a system, but sometimes, if a girl was particularly disinterested he required back up. That’s where Harry stepped in with enough resistance to still make him feel like a good person, but not so much that he wasn’t a good friend. Hanging around Nikki often made him choose, but he couldn’t complain. It was how he met you and how he’d managed to run into you again.

There were the casual run ins. The nods from across a busy room that led nowhere or the greetings so short that he really couldn’t tell if you even remembered sleeping with him. It gave him an inexplicable rush of embarrassment every time he saw you and it hadn’t led to more. You didn’t even use his name and it frustrated him more than it made sense to.

It had been weeks since that night, but the first time he got the chance to talk to you- really talk to you- he hoped it would lead to more. Even more than that, he hoped you wanted that too.

--

The up and comer was flirting his ass off, saying all the right things when you walked up to another one of your friends. Harry couldn’t remember who it was yeah time, Sheila maybe, the one covering her mouth after nearly spitting out the shot some guy in tight pants slid over to her. Once you’d approached though, Nikki was treading water. Nothing he said ever made much sense, but it was a lot more obvious when one of your girlfriends is contradicting him at every turn. Harry wasn’t even looking for his friend before he felt the back of his pin striped vest being yanked hard. He half stumbled into the conversation and was promptly introduced to you. You you. The same you he’d sweat and sighed with, but here he was extending his hand like an idiot. First to you, then Sheila, no, Sherrie, yeah Sherrie with an “ie” like Cherry she’d claimed, to which Harry with a “y” laughed when you’d all but slapped your own forehead at her statement. You’d laughed at his introduction though, smiled at his attempts to lightly poke fun without bringing too much attention to the mistake. Nikki saw the smile and moved quickly, dragging Harry off to the bar for another round after commanding the girls to stay put.

“Fall on it.”

“On what?”

“The grenade.”

Harry frowned and looked back toward the girls they’d just left. “No,” he said simply without looking away. You were rounder than the blonde bean pole next to you, but he’d hardly consider you the ugly friend. There was something sweet about the way you were protecting your friend from an idiot like Nikki and if Harry liked him even a little bit more, he might do the same from time to time. But he didn’t and was content to watch him crash and burn if that was what fate had in store. Sherrie was very clearly Nikki’s type. He liked long legs and small breasts, tinier the better. He said it made the girls a little self conscious and eager to please. Harry wasn’t even shocked at half the shit he heard anymore. He wasn’t picky, maybe a little too loose at times, falling fast for the girls who’d break his heart if they managed to last long enough. He tried the one night stand thing… and he’d probably try it again too. At least until he got it right. He’d yet to decide if you were one he got right or wrong. Your reaction the next morning made him lean towards wrong, but you weren’t pushing him away now and he thought maybe it’d be worth a second round. For science. Romance wasn’t what he was looking for, but when it was absent, he picked up on it and usually found a way to sabotage the whole thing. Maybe it was what he was looking for, but you can’t just tell a girl that. It was only half conscious, but he saw himself making the same mistakes over and over again, pissing off women and being left with less cards than he started with. Watching you talk to your friend over and between the shoulders of smug idiots with fake tans and gelled up hair, he was weighing the pros and cons of continuing down this road and risking pissing you off too. Running you away just like the others… for a second time.

“Too big?” Nikki asked, before taking a sip of Sherrie’s cocktail to test its potency and gesturing to the glass for the bartender to add more.

“What? No, not-“ Harry looked back at his friend and grabbed a drink for himself… and one for you. “No, she’s great,” he said quickly, but that didn’t really cover it. He already knew you intimately, but even before that, he thought you were pretty. Too pretty to be the topic of this particular conversation. “She’s not a grenade, don’t be a dickhead.”

“She's cockblocking me, whatever she is, so make it go away.” Nikki shoulder checked him again on the way by and your drink dropped to the cement pool deck with a damp clink, sending pink liquid all over his shoes.

Harry swore and kicked the cup out of his way, thankful it was plastic so he didn’t make too much of a scene.

“Hey,” he looked up with wide eyes and you giggled. He clearly hadn’t expected to see you, especially standing so close to him and it took him more than a socially acceptable amount of time to formulate a response, until he settled on silence. Again.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Stark’s New Intern” Chp. 13

Summary: Erik works the first day of the Stark Expo and makes a discovery...

"The most important time in history is, now, the present So count your blessings cause time can't define the essence But you stressin over time and you follow the Roman calendar These people into cloning like Gattaca, you can bet They tryin to lock you down like Attica, the African diaspora Represents strength in numbers, a giant can't slumber forever…"

Black Star—"K.O.S. (Determination)"

"When can we meet Tony Stark?"

The chunky white girl with the dark goth hair and stank attitude glared at Erik as he stood before a podium giving the introductory remarks to the two hundred plus fourth through sixth-grade students who were attending the morning children's track of the Stark Expo.

Erik squared his shoulders and glared back at her.

"It's rude to interrupt someone's speech without raising your hand when they are explaining what is about to happen. How about you wait and let me finish?"

The girl's lips curled up in surprise and she looked around as the other children snickered at her. She rolled her eyes at Erik and folded her arms.

"Now…to finish my remarks, I'd like to say that the Children's Expo is going to be filled with various activities that you can fully choose to participate in throughout the day. Lunch will be at twelve-thirty and provided for all of you inside the Learning Annex tent located right next to the convention center…what is it now?"

The same white girl raised her hand and Erik could hear a few exasperated sighs coming from some of the other kids there.

"Will there be gluten-free food provided, because—"

"Did your parents fill out the registration form and check off gluten-free?"

"Yes—"

"Then why are you wasting our time asking about it?"

"I just want to make sure—"

"We are providing gluten-free, vegan, vegetarian, non-processed, locally sourced foods for those with dietary concerns. Anything else?"

Erik's lips curled into a scowl and a little Black girl with two tiny braids laughed out loud at his expression and quickly covered her mouth when he glanced over at her. She was the same girl that the chunky white girl had talked over at the beginning of Erik's presentation. He softened his expression at her and she visibly relaxed and dropped her hands on her lap.

He swiped his hand on his touchpad and the projected image floating behind him changed to a map of the expo space.

"Restrooms are located by following the blues lines on the walls and if you have questions or concerns, we have adult guides throughout the expo halls that can help you at any time…"

The same problem child's hand flew up.

"Stand up," Erik barked at the annoying girl.

The girl stood up, her lips tight, and her eyes still challenging him.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Katy—"

"Everyone, Katy wants some attention right now. She's been asking questions that could be answered at the end of my little talk. She's spent time whispering to people around her and being a distraction, and she has also been rude to many of you. So, Katy, the floor is now yours, we'll all just sit here and give you all the attention you want."

Erik stepped away from the podium and held his hands clasped in front of his waist.

The children stared at the girl and Katy's face, that had once been smug, slowly drained. His mother who had been a school teacher would've handled the girl a lot better, but Erik knew this type of child. He went to school with a lot of them like her. So used to being considered smart, gifted, and "special" all their life that they tended to become conceited and grew a holier-than-thou ass-hole mentality. If there was a high-income family attached behind them, they were even worse. Katy had made fun of some of the other kids who had asked good questions by belittling them with comments meant to make them look stupid. Now Erik was making her look stupid.

"Can we get back to me giving everyone information now?"

Katy said nothing.

"Sit down then," he said.

She plopped back down and he didn't hear a peep out of her for the rest of his presentation. At the end, he answered pertinent questions and released the youngins to adult handlers that matched the color-coded badges all the children wore. Forty minutes of talking, ten minutes sprinkled throughout with Katy interrupting, and twenty minutes of Q & A already had him drained from being around kids the rest of the day. He expected to hear from Tony about Katy from some of the adult handlers in the room who helped with supervision, but he didn't care. Don't start none, won't be none is what his Mama taught him.

"Are you giving a tour Mr. Stevens?"

Erik turned to see Athena making a child-sounding voice.

"Thank God no," he said with a big grin on his face.

"My track is over and the high-schoolers are going to eat lunch now, so I have a break. What do you have next?" she said.

"The Track C group. Junior high. I thought the little kids would like graphics better but they seemed to come alive more when I just talked to them and ignored my pictures."

"You're good at talking. You get excited about what your explaining and its infectious."

"It doesn't feel that way."

He glanced around. No one was watching. He cozied up to her and put a hand around her waist.

"Can I come back over tonight?"

"Be mindful, Sir," she teased, pushing back from him.

He kissed her on her lips.

He'd been swimming in her pussy for three days straight and shit was so good she had him daydreaming about her while he worked with the expo crew team to set up. He didn't even try to be discreet with her anymore because she had him hooked. She glanced around then rubbed up against him, letting her lips rest on his lush mouth.

"Could I borrow him for a second? Or do you need to hump his leg?"

Giselle stood with a palm pad in one hand and a bunch of teen badges in the other.

Athena stepped back from Erik.

"These are some badges for a few attendees who just arrived and weren't able to pick these up downstairs."

Erik took the badges from her. "You can pass them out at the beginning of your presentation. If there are some left because the attendees didn't show up, I'll take them back for tomorrow. We found some people trying to sell these outside."

"Alright," he said.

"Do us all a favor, try to stay professional and stop pawing at each other," Giselle snapped.

Athena rolled her eyes.

"I'll see you tonight, Erik," Athena said walking away.

Erik watched her swing her big hips in her tight ass slacks and he couldn't help but make a sound of approval under his breath. That was enough to annoy Giselle and she sucked her teeth.

"Don't be mad. I was tryna get with you, but you turned me down."

She ignored him and took her spot near the back of the room waiting for Erik's next session to start.

She cut her eyes at him.

"Be pissed at yourself…"

She crossed her legs and Erik noticed the deep split in her skirt and the sexy heels on her feet. Damn, she could still get it. He sat next to her. Giselle's fingers flew over her touchpad.

"I'll be professional, okay? Thanks for reminding me."

He patted her thigh and she moved her legs away from him.

"You plan on being mad at me all day?"

"I'm not mad at you."

"Jealous?"

"Of what?"

"Athena and me. You know we smashing."

"That's your business. No one needs to see it here is the point."

Giselle was cute when she was annoyed. The pout on her face was actually kind of sexy to him.

A surge of junior-high aged attendees filed into the space snagging seats. Erik stood up and headed to the podium. Checking his watch, Erik started promptly.

The junior high track was straight fire. The students were attentive, laughed at a lot of the graphics he put together for them meant to add humor to science and technology, and his Q & A session went over the allotted time because so many young people wanted to stay behind and talk to him. He had to finally type up his email and give it to the tons of questions that had to go unanswered. So many bodies flocked around him vying for his time. Giselle had to come rescue him, guiding him away from the crowd.

"They got you acting like Pepper," he joked.

"They bum-rushed you like you were Tony," Giselle said.

Her voice was pleasant. Actually friendly. He regarded her face with curiosity.

"You sound impressed."

"Actually, I was. You were great."

"Just great?"

"Okay…okay…that was a fantastic session."

"Ooh, fantastic. I leveled up in your eyes."

The expression on her face made her look open to him.

"You had lunch yet? I'm going to grab a bite and then I have to head over to the mini-lab and work there for two hours."

"No, I just had a latte earlier."

"Let's go eat…unless you have to go to your next station."

"I can eat."

He was surprised she agreed to go with him.

He steered her to the lunch pavilion in the tent outside the convention center, and they fixed themselves hearty plates of fancy catered food. They sat outside the tent on the steps of the convention building and ate their fill.

"Ah vitamin D," Giselle sighed, holding back her face to the sun when they were done eating.

She looked beautiful with her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted, and her hair resting on her shoulder. Erik ate his food while watching her sunbathe. He was still feeling her and didn't know how to get past her reticence toward him. She must've felt his eyes on her because her lids raised up slowly and for a second, Erik was lost in her face. He wanted to kiss her again and leaned forward toward her…and she was letting him.

"Hey, Devika!" Erik said pulling back from Giselle when his peripheral caught sight of her.

Tony's personal secretary strolled past carrying two bags.

"You need help?"

Erik threw away his empty plate and stepped to Devika. He took the bags from her.

"Thanks, Erik. That was a struggle," Devika said.

Her eyes took in Giselle.

"How's it going?" she asked.

"Good. I have to head over to the mini-lab. Where do you need to take these?" he asked.

"You're in luck, these actually need to go to the lab. The morning crew forgot to take these. Extra sample slides and tubes."

"Cool. I'ma head out. Holla at me later?"

His eyes gazed at Giselle.

"Maybe."

He grinned and walked with Devika.

"Are you two dating?"

"Me and Giselle? I wish."

"She doesn't like you?"

"I think she does, but she has this thing about being professional and not fraternizing while working together. Stupid."

"It's not stupid, Erik. Sometimes mixing business and pleasure backfires. I made that mistake once…"

Devika's eyes darted away from his and they both saw Tony walking toward them. Stark's eyes took in Devika and Erik knew immediately who she was talking about.

"Stevens," Tony said.

"I'm on top of stuff."

"I know you are. Lab?" he said pointing the bags.

"Yeah."

"I'll head over with you. I have a free twenty minutes so I'll show a little face…Devika I need to cancel dinner with Hartzel and Cook tonight."

"This is the third time—"

"I know. I just don't have the energy for those guys right now."

Tony walked ahead of them and Erik kept up with the bags. Devika pulled out a tablet and canceled Tony's evening plans.

The mini-lab was a replica of one of Stark Industries' actual working labs. It gave students the opportunity to see real-world applications with hands-on experience first-hand. Tony swept in to the usual fanfare and Erik handed off the lab supplies to another intern.

Erik walked around the finished lab and was shocked to see a microscope that he wanted to use back in L.A. but had no private access to. There was also other equipment he needed to be able to test the vibranium. The irony. The shit he needed but couldn't use in Los Angeles was right in front of him for little kids to play with.

Erik walked over to Samira the lab coordinator.

"Is there an evening shift?" he asked.

Samira glanced at her tablet and swiped the screen a few times.

"I have enough people, but if you want to hang out—"

"Yeah, put me on the list," he said while calculating what he would need to be able to run a discreet experiment out in the open.

###

Erik slipped past Samira and three other interns as they shut down the mini-lab for the night. He volunteered to power down all the science equipment, clean them, and pre-set them for Saturday morning so Samira and company could go eat dinner and take off early.

The vibranium was in his pocket and he moved to the back of the lab and snagged the tools he needed to take a sample of the metal and test it. He needed to be in and out of the convention center by ten and it was already seven at night. Three hours to do as much as he could to learn the properties of the metal. He would have to use episcopic illumination carefully. He had several options to choose from, so he opted to use crossed polarizing filters first until he saw that the amount of equipment in the lab was extensive enough to go full out. He decided to go with a differential interference contrast using unstained samples of the vibranium. Time was of the essence.

He worked fast and printed up results as they came, erasing any traces of his use of the equipment, including printouts of data. He felt jumpy as he heard footsteps move back and forth in the front of the entrance.

By the time he collected what data he could in the amount of time that he had, Erik was already strolling to his hotel room with his head full of wonder. Vibranium was not from earth. It had no trace of any elements found on the planet he walked on. His father and his people had been using something literally from outside of the world. The discovery actually made his hands shake as he took out his room keycard. He was excited. Dumbfounded. Even more curious. Aroused in a way that made his skin tingle.

He opened his door and across the hall, Giselle opened her door and put an empty room service tray on the ground.

Dressed in a hotel robe, her eyes met his as she stood up.

"You're back late," she said, a sly smile on her face.

Erik walked over to her door and slipped his left hand behind her neck and his right hand around her waist. Giselle's eyes had that same look she gave him at lunch, and when he crashed his lips on hers, he knew he wasn't leaving her until what needed to be done was done.

Chapter 14 HERE

###

Tag List:

@fd-writes​ @soufcakmistress  @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tclaybon  @thadelightfulone

@allhailqueennel @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky

@raysunshine78 @the-illllest @terrablaze514  @l-auteuse @amirra88 @jimizwidow @janelledarling

@chaneajoyyy @sweetestdream92 @purple-apricots @blackpinup22 @hennessystevens-udaku

@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @bugngiz @stariamrry  @honeytoffee @meilintheempressofdreams

@tyees @eye-raq @writerbee-ffs @chocolatedream30 @childishgambinaa @mygirlrenee​ @nahimjustfeelingit-writes​ @taterfics​

[albyfm]

˙✫*ﾟ YUNGBLUD  ,  DEMIBOY  ,  HE/THEY  :･ did  you  hear  alby miller  is  joining  the  cast  of  exposed  after  their habit of facilitating drugs at events, festivals & awards shows  was  revealed  ?  the  twenty-three  year  old  bass guitarist  with 500k followers is  trying  to  clear  their  name  .  they've  become  known  as  the  resident  juvenile  in  the  mansion  ,  and  it's  clear  that's  spot  on  because  they're  quite -  recalcitrant & -  stuck in their ways ,  but  also +  charismatic &  +  outspoken .  you  know  they're  heading  to  the  confession  booth  if  you  hear  lonely boy  by  the black keys  blasting  ,  most  likely  talking  about  how  they're  more  than disheveled outfits of black leather & denim, talking way too candidly to the press, smashed lenses of paparazzi cameras that got too close, an unmistakable mischievous grin & an inability to express real feelings.

hey !! finally getting around to posting this. you can call me aries, i’m 23 and in the bst ( uk ) timezone. my pronouns are she / her. i’m a little lost art school grad with a lot of student debt, a taste for red wine and an unhealthy obsession with arctic monkeys. not gonna lie, i whipped this kiddo up specifically for this rp so i’m still getting used to them, but hopefully with this intro you’ll get a feel for what they’re about. without further ado, here’s alby—

trigger warnings & disclaimer: mentions of hard drugs, alcohol, anger issues, destructive tendencies. my intention writing this intro was not to glamorize or romanticize these things in any way but if anything i have written comes across that way, please lmk!

smash that ♡ to plot or hit me up on discord @ chaotic aries#5793 !!

‘and this is how it starts...’ ( the basics )

name: alby fox miller age: twenty-three gender: non-binary ( demi-boy ) pronouns: he / him & they / them date of birth: may 24th 1997 zodiac: gemini sun, pisces moon, aries rising orientation: pansexual occupation: bassist for drive like i do career claim: ross macdonald ( the 1975 ) genre: alt-pop, pop-rock

‘it’s the way we are, we were smoking by eleven & knocking ‘round town...’ ( background )

you’re born in 1997, in the north west of england. wilmslow, to be exact. a quaint and affluent town, just south of manchester. the family you’re born into is a comfortable one. not quite living lavishly, but not at all struggling, either. your parents both work in business out in the city. you go to a good school. but... all is not how you exactly want it to be.

see, your parents are quite pushy. they expect you to live how they want, rather than how you do. at the all boy’s academy they enroll you in as a teenager, they expect you to pick what they deem as intellectual subjects, such as foreign languages, further mathematics and computer science. there’s a focus on you becoming someone that makes a lot of money, rather than someone who is happy.

but you’re... not the kind of person that can be molded so easily. you’re a fairly happy-go-lucky kid, but also a rebellious one. your parents’ strict ways of trying to force you down their chosen path, only encourages you more heavily to choose your own. 

at fourteen, you meet the guys. lennox, jovi & jasper. they’re some of the only kids at school who can be bothered to be around you, with your high energy and bolshy attitude. really, they’re the only people who embrace you for who you are. they encourage your weirdness and outspokenness. it’s not long before you find yourself wanting to do everything together. it’s not long before the four of you are inseparable.

from there, you fully detach from everything your parents want you to be. you embrace your individuality. you also find the courage and bravery to come out to your parents as non-binary at the age of sixteen. there’s not a single person’s opinion that you’re afraid of, or even care about. 

it’s not all rainbows & sunshine, though. you struggle somewhat with anger issues, and a bit of depression. you’re also practically addicted to getting into trouble: picking fights with bullies at school, selling weed & pills to your friends around town, underaged drinking... you get the gist. though you keep your fears internal, you sometimes worry you’ll get nowhere in life.

so of course, the second the boys are talking about starting a band, you’re all in. imagine if you made it big someday? wouldn’t that be sick? you’re immediately drawn to bass guitar, and use a month’s worth of saved up pocket money to pick one up from the big music store in the city. thankfully, you pick it up quite quickly, because before you can even realize it, things are getting so... real. by sixteen, you don’t feel you have the option to stick around at school for sixth form, because drive like i do is already playing local venues and working on its first album.

you’re just seventeen when the album is released. somehow, the climb to fame is faster than you could have ever imagined. it seems like yesterday you were still watching bass tutorials on youtube in your bedroom and practicing in your friend’s garage after school. first is some notoriety across the uk, but before you know it — boom! global stardom. the fame is a heavy weight for someone so young to carry... but fuck it, it’s gonna be fun, and you know it.

you’re twenty-three now, and days are gone of pipedreams formed in your parent’s shoebox room. you split your time between manchester, london, and LA — and that’s just during rare moments of downtime from your world tours. your band is 4 albums in, and whoever hasn’t heard of you might as well have been living under a rock. is it narcissistic to think like that? maybe, but you don’t care. this is rock n’ roll, baby. this is the life.

naturally, all eyes are mostly on your very outspoken frontman. he’s controversial, but the media can’t get enough of him. as for you? to them, you’re... the band’s problem child. while you argue that your behavior is no different than that of your friend, he’s got the lead singer charm. they don’t seem to like you as much. why? well...

‘drink, fall, spew...’ ( troublesome tendencies & exposed secret )

you never really coped as well as you acted like you did, did you? while you were grateful for the fame, everything was... a lot, and it was all at once. you didn’t even get the chance to process it. 

take four twenty-somethings and add constant prying journalists, paparazzi, and constantly full schedules into the mix. and why not pepper in some typical rockstar vices, too? alcohol, drugs, parties, throwaway sex. things are destined to get a little rocky. though you tried at first not to show it to your fans, your destructive behavior soon got the better of you, and you became known to drunkenly lash out at paps, smash cameras and storm out of interviews when the questions got too personal. 

this all came to a head when you were caught on camera several times distributing acid tabs, cocaine and mdma at events, music festivals & awards shows. the press gave the band a pretty bad time over this, and given the other members’ controversies and lennon’s similar link to drugs, it wasn’t a good look for any of you. 

it didn’t matter that you had a side to you that was good, pure. that you were always kind and loving and down-to-earth towards your fans and friends. you were a bad seed, and you wound up on exposed with the rest of your bandmates. hopefully you can prove there’s more to you than what the media shows...

‘oh & you say, i’m such a cliche...’ ( personality )

immm gonna rush thru this section & write less formally bc those other parts too me WAY too long

basically a literal toddler. loves a laugh, loves a good time, but get on his bad side and he WILL throw a tantrum

it’s mainly people like press & paps he lets his anger out on. the band’s fans and people he’s close with on a personal level know he’s a good person underneath it all

loves a bit of mischief / rebellion / drama

king of hiding insecurities....

literal softie.... like... who allowed this binch to be so soft. he’s so open about how much he loves his friends (particularly his bandmates) and will platonically kiss and hug and love people all the time, particularly on the show bc he’s trying to show the cameras his softer side dfjghdfdfg

so excitable like WHERE does this kid get all his energy...

( tw drugs ) will probably struggle a bit on the show without access to drugs, but ( tw addiction mention ) he has never really been addicted or dependent on them, just a frequent user.

outspoken as fuck, has no filter sometimes oops

very flamboyant, in line with the general aesthetic of his band but also on a personal level. sports a kind of soft gothic/punk/early 2000s emo look. always paints his nails and wears makeup etc

sleeps around a lot but has never really been able to find a lasting relationship, has just had a bunch of short-lived flings???? but lowkey develops crushes at the drop of a hat and would love to properly fall in love with someone who could be with him forever & accept him for all his flaws, but he highly doubts that will ever happen fgjdhsfg

‘why don’t you figure my heart out?...’ ( wanted connections )

exes on good terms

exes on bad terms ( maybe someone who actually really wanted to stay with him but couldnt deal with his bullshit and now resents him? )

 someone who loves the band’s music & inflates his ego ab it

 someone he hasn’t seen for years that he’s reunited on the show & maybe they’re revisiting old feelings for each other??? and he wants it to be DIFFERENT this time but also theres shit tons of fucking cameras and shit which... makes things difficult...

first friend he made in LA or in the states in general, someone who showed him the ropes

someone who hates him / hates the band like PLEASE

and also just a straight up enemy maybe?? someone who finds him annoying as fuck??

FRIENDS!!!

literally anything just hmu and lay an idea on me and theres 90% chance ill be down

[emsartwork]

The pixies!!! the weirder outfits are what i think they would wear in the average pixie culture, and the more normal clothing is stuff stella designed for them all.

amore, piff, lockette, chatta, digit/caramel and tune/cherie 

lore and stuff below the cut

pixies are about 12 inches tall at the most but average in 8-10 inches.  They have large, single colored wings, that are physically attached to their back, and they literally can’t “de-transform” or get rid of their wings. they also have skin patterns that can change but only after severe trauma. pixies are technically genderless and sexless, but a lot of them use the pronouns of whoever they end up bonding with.  Some pixies like to mimic human clothing before they really interact with human society. 

Pixies are born from the tree of magix, which besides producing pixies, also syncs up with the magical energy of female magic users, having a “record” of every one born(how they found roxy in season 4). Whenever someone unlocks magic winx for the first time it sends a surge through the connected thread of magic through the tree of magix, opening the flower representing the fairy and causing the birth of the fairy’s bonded pixie. Until the fairy and pixie meet in person the bond is not super strong. The fairy can’t feel it but the pixies can, and some pixies choose to seek out their fairy on their own by following the thread. the first thing a pixie does after their matter finally settles on a form they announce what they are “the pixie of”, then after a couple days they pick their own name. 

The pixie’s special talent(yes im stealing that term from the tinkerbell movies shut up) cannot change, unlike fairies, who can adjust their “fairy of” title should they need to. the pixies talent is rarely super similar to their fairy’s preferred magic. Pixies are kind of hoarders when it comes to objects related to their talent, dressing themselves in these materials and hiding them away in various secret spots. A pixie’s talent and personality are theorized to support and provide a counter point for their fairy. but the method by which this is chosen is currently unknown by the magical science community. 

personality wise, my pixies are..... not as nice as the canon ones lol. They are obsessive, possessive, and self absorbed. they don’t like dealing with things that aren’t related to their talent. they don’t like it when people take items related to their talent. they don’t like other pixies. like at all. pixies are usually very solitary, nesting at least 10 yards from any other pixie. Pixie “village” is a meeting place for pixie celebrations and ceremonies, but its rare that more than one or two pixies live there at the same time. a lot of pixies had to tolerate each other during the fiasco with lord darkar, and it is NOT remembered fondly. Bonded pixies are very possessive of their fairy and dislike anyone who is a perceived threat to the fairy or the relationship (this includes boyfriends, friends, siblings, parents, pets, etc because tiny angry wasp babies attacking everybody is a HILARIOUS idea)

for individual pixies!!!!

Amore: Pixie of (romantic) Love. Collects things related to love(roses from bouquets, gift jewelry, chocolate boxes, etc) Amore is naive and a little ditzy, she is one of the only pixies who enjoys interacting with humans who are not her bonded fairy. She is known around alfea campus for giving the best romantic advice and for AVENGING BROKEN HEARTS SWIFTLY AND MERCILESSLY. Stella is balanced by Amore, who is outrageously loving towards everyone she meets (unless they have broken some one else’s heart or if they threaten stella), prefers to make the best of bad situations, and stay out the spotlight.

Piff: Pixie of Rest. They collect fluffy pillow and blankets mostly. they have the most nests in alfea out of the bonded pixies. piff is selectively mute, only speaking while in one of their nests or with Aisha, piff can be very lazy and apathetic with basically everybody/everything else. Piff balances Aisha with their even temperament and need for sleep, which forces aisha to actually slow tf down every once in a while.

Lockette: Pixie of Portals. Collects maps, locks, and keys. actually the youngest of the pixies since bloom was the last member of the winx to transform. Lockette is still a scaredy-cat, but only in physical fights or of monsters, in personal relationships lockette is hard headed and combative. bloom is balanced by Lockette’s cautious approach to conflict and strong stance towards personal problems(instead of running away like bloom always does lmao)

Chatta: Pixie of Language. collects book pages, pen nibs, anything with words on it, including voice recordings. she’s the only other pixie who likes to interact with humans who aren’t her bonded fairy. chatta is hyper hyper hyper and a little bossy. She and lockette clash a lot over who “leads’ the pixies, even though most of the time Chatta is just thinking outloud. Flora is balanced by Chatta’s upbeat energy and belief in expressing herself!!! She loves to talk!!!!!

Pixel: Pixie of Images. collects colored pencils, markers, and any kind of image printed or digital or whatever. theyre scattered and unpredictable, jumping from one thing to the next. They will leave little drawings all over alfea. tecna is balanced by pixel’s creative problem solving and emotional expression. (Side note: I always thought digit being tecna’s pixies was a little redundant, and i never really liked caramel? so Pixel was a good “technological” sounding name that referenced art. Pixel’s design is a combo of digit and caramel though.)

Chene: Pixie of Atmosphere. collects kites, tuffs of clouds, and wind chimes. Chene prefers her own company almost more than musa’s. Chene and musa clash the most obviously in the group, as both are herd headed and temperamental. however, while musa flares hot and pursues a fight, chene is cold and standoffish. despite their problems Musa is actually balanced by Chene’s calm attitude and independent spirit. (side note: Chene is a direct combo of tune and cherie, i don’t remember exactly how i connected them but basically “manners” create a “mood” which could also be an “air” about a person+ weather= atmosphere. boom. her design is a combo of cherie and tune’s.)

[thesunsingsforthem]

The Emperor’s New Groove - What animal would you associate your muse with? Why?

Nyline - A cat, I think. She’s very full of personality, very proud, but becomes incredibly attached to the few people she decides are worth it. Possibly a smaller wildcat, such as a Serval, Caracal, or Ocelot, but I’m not sure what species exactly.Aideen - A jaguar spurned by humans. They have power and they know it, putting it to work to keep themself alive and to their own benefit. Solitary, hard to read, temperamental, etc.Althea - Electric eel hahaha. But actually... maybe a corvid? She’s very smart, will tinker and come up with strange and interesting solutions to problems, and loves some edgar allan poe. Or maybe that’s just me. Imagining a raven with a taser is pretty hilarious and pretty accurate, honestly.Rowan - A smaller bird, like a swift, swallow, or something like that. She’s happiest in the air, surrounded by wind, and has a few tricks up her sleeves to avoid before she’ll try and fight.Augustine - Funnily enough, a Kangaroo was the first animal she was compared to back when i first started writing her, for her powerful defensive reactions, kicks, and ‘mothering’ nature to the people she’s in charge of or has claimed as her friends. Also apt could be a wolf, as she likes having her ‘pack’ around and will defend them with her life if need be.Amdis - Some sort of hunting dog, maybe a wolf. He loves canines in general, but also identifies with them and respects them as they’re much more loyal than humans ever could be. He’s possibly a bit more solitary than a full on pack wolf would be, but he will occasionally pick and choose other ‘outcasts’ like himself to take care of, they just usually don’t want to be taken care of by him in the first place lol.Rhys - Is it cheating to say dragon? Perhaps an elk, deer, or moose then. Rhys is a bit difficult to pin down, and the fact that they’re technically an animal already, albeit a mythological one, doesn’t help. They have a bit of a fey nature to them as well though, which is why I’m leaning more towards elk or deer.Israfil - Red-Tail Hawk. It fits his red theme, he loves open fields/spaces to relax in or soar through once he gets a hang of the whole flying thing, is very much a fan of waiting for things to happen rather than ‘hunting’ on his own, and i’m pretty sure red-tail hawks are even one of the more monogamous of the animal world which fits his supreme loyalty and ideals to a T. Alternatively, he could TOTALLY be a golden retriever that got some red paint splashed on him.Remiel - A fox or coyote probably. They tend to think through problems, preferring ‘clever’ solutions to brute force ones, as well as humor to diffuse situations. They also, both by choice and by coincidence, end up going against quite a few social conventions, and have learned to just go with it, being mostly solitary but forming very strong bonds with those who have shown acceptance.Marcus - lololwerewolfisadog, but actually probably a bear of some sort. He prefers to keep his distance from things, not bother with people or society or any of it. But if you piss him off, he has an incredibly explosive temper and would rather completely remove whatever the problem is, even if that is kind of frowned on.Lalna - A mouse or rat, as he’s incredibly intelligent, linked to science and science experiments, and sort of has a bad reputation that isn’t really deserved. Nikola - Pigeon? :P   I think I’d argue for a feline or vulpine but I’m not really sure what would fit him best. He has the attitude for it though, certainly.Nigel - Chameleon! Except also a really sweet dog of some sort, like a retriever or shepherd dog.Adam - A striped hyena, ironic for the belief that they were vampiric or that some human/demons turned into them and drank blood/ate humans in a lot of middle eastern stuff, but also is timid unless defending its young, is the main hyena species where the male takes care of the young, is primarily a scavenger and not a hunter, and is known both for treachery in stories as well as being a symbol of love.

[yeastofeden]

Hello! Your Traitor Uraraka theory was an amazing read! I want to dive into the world of character/story/literary analysis too, but I dont know where or how to start... Any advice/tips you could share?

Thanks so much! I’m honestly flattered you would ask… I’m ahobby writer so a lot of what I know about analysis is what I learnedin grade school, on my own, or adapted from what I know about artcriticism & analysis….. Since you’re not sure on the start,I’ll just talk about all the core things I feel helped me getinterested in this.

Read If I had torecommend anything specificfor reading, I’d say lookinto classic literature – not because its “critically acclaimed,”but because a lot of the time classic literature has been analyzed byprofessionals in their fields, so it can be a nice way to see howother people handle character interpretation, storytelling, worldbuilding, and so on. I liked Shakespeare a lot, and you probablywouldn’t be surprised to hear that people analyze the shit out ofShakespeare. I probably picked up the most of my understanding ofcharacter analysis from indulging in Shakespeare alone.

Don’t like Shakespeare? I’d say look into stories that are just over 50 years old; Lord ofthe Rings, Catcher in the Rye, Pride & Prejudice, Lord of theFlies…. So long as you can find actual scholars analyzing it,you’re golden. Read things you enjoy; if you like anime and only care about that…maybe check out textbooks on classic anime.

Alongwith looking up how others analyze, start being critical with all themedia you consume. Movies are a great way to do this because it’sshort format and easyconcumption. You can stayfocused on critical thinking for a couple of hours while enjoyingsomething–I also think movie reviews are a good way to experiencecritical analysis. And don’t just watch good movies… watch badones too, and figure out why they’re bad.

WriteActuallywrite. Take all the interesting things you learned and apply it tosomething. Don’t just think about it; the tragedy about onlythinking is that nothing really solidifies like it does once youfinally put it out there. Talkto friends about it if you can drag them into aconversation;a lot of my analysis started out because I was talking with otherpeople. If you don’t have anyone to talk to about a series or don’twant to bother people with your miscellaneous thoughts, get a sidetumblr or a dreamwidth and just write things there to get themdown–ifyou’reshy, just don’t tag things.Tbh, sometimes I just write things out and then delete them when I’mfinished just so I can get the thought out of me. Writing is just apowerful tool tohelp organize thoughts into cohesive opinions.

Butdon’t just write thoughts only… build on them. Write your owncharacters and stories just for fun. Write fanfiction. WriteAlternate Universes. Really just explore your own taste in fictionand the kind of things you yourself want to see. If there’s onevery easy thing I could suggest… take your favourite characters orship and slap them into story that already exists. I wrote one of myOTPs a few years ago into HasChristian Andersen’s theLittle Mermaid,andit was interesting andfuntrying to suit different characters into the roles of the story.

Writingand reading as a combination are just good things for you; they helpbuild competency with literature and language, andby just indulging in the two of these while remaining critical canjust naturally better your ability to read deeper into things.

ResearchAlongwith the earlier mentioned analyses that you should look into, it’sworth it to look into like extra resources. Check out interviews withyour favourite authors; look at like Ted Talks about creativity andwriting; read into tropes and motifs; find creative people you likeand follow their work and look for trends; lookinto writing concepts and themes.Storiesare just made up of patterns and once you start finding the patterns,you can start exploiting them. A Hero’s Journey is one of the mostfundamental patterns we can follow in storytelling, and with someabstract thinking we can start to predict the events that will occurin a story. A lot of my theory is built up on observing patterns.

IfI could point you toward one single video, it’s Kirby Ferguson’sTED talk “Embrace the Remix.” It talks about the idea thatnothing is original and all things are just remixed versions of eachother. This is part of why tropes exist;  you could go look attvtropes.org and hit random and start learning about these patternsright now. Granted, I don’t recommend using tropes as a foundationof an argument, but knowing tropes can help you connect the dotsbetween series.

IfI had to suggest any non-literary research that’s worth lookinginto….Check out psychology, art, and/or culture. Psychology is just morepatterns, I use Maslow’s Heirarchy of Needs when I write andobserve survival horror. Art is another way to tell a story and isespecially useful when observing visual media. Culture can help youunderstand why people write the way they do, becausethere is a difference between Eastern and Western media andstorytelling trends.

“Personality sections”Alittle back story on me: pretty much all of thereading/writing/researching I do thesedaysis because I do a lot of text-based roleplay on Dreamwidth. I’vebeen doing this for about8 years.Overthe years, I’ve written out easilyover 30 “personality sections,” which are basically 500-2kcharacter summaries–for characters like Sakura from Naruto, Makotofrom Free, Jake English from Homestuck, and so many others–as apart of a way to “prove” that I understand the character I’mroleplaying whenjoining organized groups.I’ve also read literallyhundredsof these personality sections because I joined vetting teams forsaid organized groups, and have written many rejectionresponses to help people understand where they can improve.A lot of people I know hate writingthese personality sections… but I love them.

Youcould join RP and get a feel for it thesame wayI did, but that might not be your thing. But the process of writingthese “personality sections” wasbroken down to a science byroleplayers,and can be seen as a base form of character analysis. Wetalkedabout a character’s personality, what shaped them to be that way,and sometimes how that affected them in the future of their story.When I led a vetting team, these were the requirements I set:

Mustbe at least three paragraphs long for minor characters, fiveparagraphs long for main characters. Players should be able to conveya good understanding of their characters, but just describing apersonality isn’t enough. Make sure that when you explain aparticular attitude that you back yourself up with some canon proof,otherwise mods have to wonder where you are getting this informationregardless of our knowledge of canon. Be sure to explain clearly andconcisely, organizing your paragraphs so related subjects aretogether. Avoid explaining the personality in such a way that itreads like a history section - generally this is determined byunnecessary use of chronological order.

Andthese are the same guidelines I hold myself to when I work on my ownpersonality sections. Some people have broken down personalitysections in such a way that they are formatted “three positivetraits, three negative traits” withsome variance.Some like to talk about important relationships aswell.I always defend that personality should be backed up with actualcanon evidence. “Uraraka is kind,” I could say, but I should backit up with an instance where she showed kindness, such as when shesaved Midoriya from tripping when they first meet.

TheorizingIfI’m honest, I don’t much like theorizing. I like to read theoriesand I like to think about things, but I’m not actually partial totrying to predict the future of a series because I feel likeserialized stories are too choppy to be worth my time, and there’snot much sense trying to predict the future of a story that’sfinished. I’m more inclined toward theorizing about the past, orwhat’s already happened but wasn’t explained.

Mydisinterest in theorizing kind of shows….I’ve only written twotheories for Tumblr–Urarakais the Traitor (My Hero Academia), and Both Shiros are the Clone(Voltron). I think I ended up being right about the second one butI’m not sure where the interview isthatproves it, justthat it was SDCC stuff.Thereason I’ve written any theories at all is because I personally wasmotivated by frustration–I didn’t know why people weren’ttalking about these things. SoI made a post to try to get people to talk. BeforeI posted my theory, no one would have looked twice at Uraraka andthat drove me nuts.Now I’ve made a following strong enough that Uraraka seems to beone of the highest contenders in terms of just… gossip. Which,thanks guys. I’m floored.

So…. Myadvice would be to pick a subject you think should be talked aboutand go for it. Do the research. Canon-review. Takenotes. Search for patterns outside what you’re trying to analyze.Writeand rewrite and rewrite again, becauseanalyzing is basically high school but fun.

And…lastly…. Prepare to be wrong. You have a different sense ofstorytelling than anyone else. I have been bitten right in the assbecause I viewed and loved many-a character because I saw them theway I wanted to, and the author clearly did not share my views.And people might not like your theory; people might super hate iteven, and that’s not such a big deal. In the end it’s just fiction and we’re all just here to enjoy a story we love.

I…know that’s a lot, but Ihope it was at least helpful information! Ithink in the end the most important part is just to be critical andremain open-minded. Never stop learning. Choose your battles. Write about what you love.And don’t worry so much about being wrong. 

[lokirupaul]

Lokiru Paul : OPINION GUEST ESSAY: How to Raise Kids Who Won’t Be RacistJuly 15, 2021

OPINION GUEST ESSAY: How to Raise Kids Who Won’t Be RacistJuly 15, 2021



Credit...Fran Caballero

By Melinda Wenner Moyer for THE NEW YORK TIMES 

Ms. Wenner Moyer is a science journalist and the author of the forthcoming book “How to Raise Kids Who Aren’t Assholes,” from which this essay is adapted.

If race is largely a social construct, then teaching children about it will only perpetuate racism — right? Wrong: Studies show precisely the opposite. Open conversations about race and racism can make white children less prejudiced and can increase the self-esteem of children of color.

If states ban the teaching of critical race theory, as conservative lawmakers in many are attempting to do, or if schools don’t provide consistent education about racism and discrimination, it’s imperative that parents pick up the slack.

Even if we don’t want them to, children do notice differences in race and skin color. And that means that attempts to suppress discussions about race and racism are misguided. Those efforts won’t eliminate prejudice. They may, in fact, make it worse.

So-called colorblind parenting — avoiding the topic of race in an effort to raise children who aren’t prejudiced — is not just unhelpful, it actually perpetuates racism. That’s because racism isn’t driven solely by individual prejudice. It’s a system of inequity bolstered by racist laws and policies — the very fact that opponents of teaching critical race theory are trying to erase.

Some people, especially white people like me, may shy away from talking to their children about race, either because they’ve been socialized to treat the subject as taboo or because they fear that instilling an awareness of race is itself problematic. That’s a privilege that nonwhite families often don’t have — racism is a fact of life that many can’t ignore. While parents of white children may be able to choose if, when and how they have these conversations, parents of children of color often have no choice but to discuss the subject as it arises.

Parents may believe their children are too young to learn about topics like prejudice, discrimination and violence. But it’s possible — advisable, actually — to have age-appropriate conversations about race and racism throughout children’s lives, including when they are very young.

I asked more than 80 parents about how they think their children view race. Many said their children are oblivious to skin color. Yet research strongly contradicts this notion. Babies as young as 3 months old discern racial differences, and they prefer looking at faces that share their caregivers’ skin color.

Racial awareness and prejudice continue to develop during the preschool and grade school years. A 2012 study showed that many white parents of preschoolers believed that their children harbored no racial prejudice. When the researchers tested the children, though, some said they wouldn’t want Black friends.

Children learn from what they see. They notice that in American culture, race and power intersect in a clear way. Children may observe, for instance, that all but one president has been white, that many of the wealthiest people are white and that more working-class people are people of color.

When children aren’t presented with the context required to understand why our society looks the way it does, “they make up reasons, and a lot of kids make up biased, racist reasons,” said Rebecca Bigler, a developmental psychologist who studies the development of prejudice. Children often start to believe that white people are more privileged because they’re smarter or more powerful, Dr. Bigler says.

Parents should explicitly challenge these wrong assumptions and explain the role of centuries of systemic racism in creating these inequities. Brigitte Vittrup, a psychologist at Texas Woman’s University, and George W. Holden, a psychologist at Southern Methodist University, found that white children whose parents talked with them about race became less prejudiced over time, compared with children whose parents didn’t have such conversations.

Another study co-written by Dr. Bigler found that white children who had learned about racial discrimination had more positive attitudes toward Black people than children who were not exposed to that curriculum. The same researchers later found that classroom discussions about racial discrimination also had a positive impact on Black children.

Indeed, children of color also benefit from conversations about race and racism. In particular, Adriana J. Umaña-Taylor and Nancy E. Hill at the Harvard Graduate School of Education found that when families of color regularly talk about their culture’s values and traditions, children develop a strong sense of identity and pride, and they fare better in terms of self-esteem, psychological health and academic success.

But talking about race isn’t enough. Parents should also foster respect for diverse cultural backgrounds by ensuring their children interact with people who are different from them. If you can choose where you live or where your children go to school, it helps to prioritize diversity. And consider the curriculum: Children who hear teachers talk explicitly about race are better at identifying bias than students who are given vague messages about kindness and equality.

At home, choose books, TV shows and movies with characters from a variety of backgrounds — and discuss the characters’ race and ethnicity with your children. When all of the characters are white, acknowledge it. Start a conversation about why that might be the case, and why it’s not representative of the world we live in. Point out racist tropes in books, movies and TV shows when you see them.

Encourage your children to be friends with children of different races, too. “Friendships are a major mechanism for promoting acceptance and reducing prejudice,” explained Deborah Rivas-Drake, a psychologist and educational researcher at the University of Michigan. But if you’re white, don’t expect people of color to do the labor of educating your children about race.

If you’re like me, you may struggle with conversations about race, but they get easier. If your children comment on someone’s skin color, instead of shushing or scolding them, explain the science of skin color — that we all have a pigment in our skin called melanin that protects against ultraviolet radiation. Your melanin levels depend on how much your parents have and on where your ancestors lived.

If your children make racist or insensitive comments, gently probe for more information before responding. “Get a sense of what they understand it to mean from their perspective,” said Howard C. Stevenson, a professor of urban education and Africana studies at the University of Pennsylvania. “Where did they hear it from? How is it being used in the social context they’re in? Then you have a better angle to how you can speak to it.”

These conversations can feel awkward, but remember that whatever your children don’t learn about race from you, they’ll learn from the media, their friends or their own imaginations.

Racism won’t end until parents — and children — see prejudice, recognize its perniciousness and unravel the system that fuels it.

Melinda Wenner Moyer (@lindy2350) is a science journalist and the author of the forthcoming book “How to Raise Kids Who Aren’t Assholes,” from which this essay is adapted.

[centaurrential]

“The Big See”

Before I start this next project, here are some addenda to my last post:

1. I made an error in my section on units of measurement. The time it takes for light to travel a meter is actually approximately 1/300,000ths of a second. However, what I said about using light as a standard for measurement still stands, and it’s pretty reasonable to at least think of it that way. That’s because light is sort of hierarchical in the sense that we obey it (at least we did, initially), and we don’t run the risk of falling into infinite regress, which according to professional philosophers is a problem (I might say that with a little sarcasm...). We didn’t build light like we do its human counterparts in terms of ‘boss-dom’; we only perform something like an irrigation.

2. An important intermediary in the psychology of a grocery shopper is an assumption that the supermarket will have what they need. The very fact that people even make these kinds of assumptions is indicative of how advanced our economy has become. So again, please stay mindful about the processes, that you don’t see plainly, that ensure you can have what you want. In one episode of “The Crown”, set some time in the 1960s, the Prime Minister of Great Britain (who happens to be the leader of the Labour Party - go figure) remarks that the opening of a new supermarket signals the “democratization” of food and other essentials, and he is quite right. Our essentials (and certainly non-essentials too!) have been consolidated into single, publicly accessible buildings--anyone can walk in and out. Many different products sit on the shelves, inertly, side by side--neighbours--as the inconspicuous faces of a wildly complex yet hidden ecosystem.

P.S. The link between human psychology and economics will resurface later in this post.

When developing characters, writers of fiction often comment on the momentum that launches the characters into writing themselves, almost independently of the author’s own mind. Hmm, I wonder why that is? Maybe it has something to do with that little thing that starts with the letter “A” and ends with “rchetypes”... I feel the same way about my own writing, which I view like a fiddlehead unfurling into a frond.

Ok, so, I was brought into this world at the intersection of a lot of different forces at work--I was a bridge between two completely different socio-economic classes, and I suppose that inevitably set me on a trajectory by which I would find myself in many, many diverse and often peculiar social situations. You know, if you’ve lived a quiet life that doesn’t involve zig-zagging from one insane scenario to the next, you’d assume that all people are a certain way. I will never say that I was always comfortable in such situations, but as a result of introspection and for my own sanity I needed to excavate some gratitude for those experiences. The reason for that is, the more difference, the more heterogeneity in the set of things you come into contact with, the more clearly you can see things for what they are. Here’s an analogy: It’s akin to the meaning of something, carved by a sentence. In the spirit of boundedness, sentences are then coated with another layer of meaning as they sit within paragraphs. Paragraphs within stories, and stories within ‘bodies of canonical literature’.

I admit it: I am a spy. When I was younger and less self-assured I’d often find myself the onlooker in social situations, and if I was a participant, it would often be to my detriment. Sometimes that was ‘cause something about me attracted negative attention, and sometimes because I found myself in a state of social paralysis, not having a clue what magic word would open the sky and send the ladder of social climbing down and within my reach. But in all of my glorious sponginess I picked up little observations here and there and so this, below, is the culmination of all that.

This is a commentary on human relationships, and particularly what people think they should offer to those relationships. I must make it clear that I am not pretending the problem is an easy one to solve because we are dealing with instinct, and deeply ingrained attitudes, but I do have principles and I do have an orientation that I prefer. Ultimately the way one chooses to act is their own prerogative (given a certain amount of knowledge that they possess), but there are always sacrifices to be made and consequences to think about. And for those who are capable of it, guilt is a beast.

I was once in a conversation with a mental health professional--a psychiatrist, to be exact. Meaning he had a legal licence to practise mental healthcare, to conduct psychotherapy, and to prescribe medication. He had what we think of as ‘credentials’. He said to me, “relationships don’t define you”.

WHAT?!

This is the kind of person that is entrusted with the emotional mending and security of a damaged individual, and these approaches to life are thought to be okay? Imagine someone impressionable, lost, misunderstood, and unable to understand people in return, taking this idiot’s word as law, and then applying that attitude toward their life’s activities from thereon out. It’s like, why the fuck are you feeling shitty in the first place? It’s because people can be cruel, and if you’re telling me that that’s not at all involved in forming your character, then...well, I just don’t know what to say to that. And the converse is true, too: as a human agent, you do have a responsibility to other people. This psychiatrist was basically saying that you are free from obligations to others, and I think that’s definitely reflected in the attitudes of the immature. If you don’t want that kind of responsibility then go be a hermit, completely alone, in the middle of nowhere, and let’s see how well you do. At least if you’re on your own you won’t have to be accountable to others.

You see, for the people who find themselves on the more radical side of the spectrum of reductionism, nothing and nobody is special, and nothing is sacred. In fact, I think reductionism breeds nihilism. (FYI, if you’re new to the idea of ‘reductionism’, it simply means that anything and everything can be explained in scientific terms. So for example, an emotion you may be feeling is only due to the presence of a hormone, or neurotransmitter, and along with that, its molecular structure and how that interacts with your neural structure.) Every damn thing can be explained to oblivion...

Fools.

Imagine physically entering a room with furnishings arranged a certain way, art of a particular kind on the wall, different colours interacting with one another, and the feeling you get when you take it all in. Do you feel good? It must mean the different elements giving the space definition are interacting harmoniously according to your innate sensibilities. Do you feel bad energy? Then there is something amiss. Maybe you can figure out what needs changing, maybe you can’t. Maybe it’s so overwhelmingly bad that you have to leave the space. I see human interaction the same way, and I challenge the reductionists to piece together every little detail about the nice room that they can, and then give me a scientific explanation for why those details produce a certain feeling. I want it to be revelatory enough to make me go, “So THAT’s why!!!”

I hope you trust your grammar.

I don’t know much about feng shui, but I’d imagine what I described above is similar. And because it’s obvious different people have different aesthetic preferences, it follows that the ‘energetic configurations’ they prefer are different too. By now you probably realize that when I use the term “energy” I’m not using it like E = mc2, I’m using it in the New Age way.

Sometimes quasi-reductionists allow for things called “emergent properties”. That basically means that there are little elements that can easily be described in an atomistic fashion, but that “the whole is greater than the sum of its parts”. If you think that way, then maybe the idea of a soul has some credibility. I think this is what Rene Descartes (also the inventor of the Cartesian plane I used in my last post) grappled with in his investigation into where the mind “sat”. He decided it was the pineal gland, but he was saying that there needs to be a location, a physical location. The mind-body dichotomy is a difficult thing to resolve, if it’s even a dichotomy at all... But I think in general people have a hard time with the concept of a soul because the soul is intangible, and science is now so integral to the way we live our lives that without scientific explanation we are left dumbfounded. But we can’t just leave it at that; oh no, it’s yet another frontier that must be conquered... If there’s something we think we can know, we must know it.

It’s sort of been decided that reason in decision-making is best practice. That was to ensure the people who make decisions are trustworthy; that their personal biases and wacky emotions wouldn’t get in the way of valuable, objective contributions to the development of civilization. If you consider the lay of the land today and you think it’s a good thing, then that shift in thinking paid off nicely. But emotion of ANY kind is now thought to be an interference; it is unprofessional, it is inappropriate, it is not reasonable.

In fact, for many people, relationships are just an afterthought. Like parents who don’t think twice about the way they say things to their young children when admonishing them.  And emotional labour isn’t thought to require as much mindfulness, or to be as rewarding as market-related labour and therefore the young ones you’re responsible for teaching about how to behave as honourable people in the world suffer greatly. Wake up! Those little ones will, in no time, be carrying the anchors of the future within them. Child psychologists have identified the age period between 2 and 4 years to be absolutely crucial in forming a child’s sociability. Of course the relative progression of time for an adult compared to a child is fast. Two years can go by in what seems like an instant (and parents do often say that is the case), but for a child of that age, two years is a hell of a long time. Additionally, we need to take seriously the fact that investment of that type is not something you can just go back and change in case it doesn’t suit you in the future. It’s either now, or never.

And as those kids grow up, they’re going to find something to invest in, too.

Say you, the now-grown kid, decide to one day admit to a friend that, God forbid, you want to fall in love and you are searching for your partner. The usual response is: “Focus on your education. Focus on your career; get that established before you do anything like that.” And the best one of all: “Have some ‘fun’ before you settle down.” Okay, there’s a lot to unpack here.

Right off the bat you know this friend doesn’t give equal importance to both “The Career” and to romantic relationships. You know what that’s a product of? Propaganda. I mean, how could you possibly be a productive member of a capitalist society if you devote a good chunk of your energy to another person? There’s no bankable return on that kind of labour! The perpetrators of that propaganda hate real love because it’s so compelling and because it compels people like that it’s considered a “distraction” - it interferes with the profiteer’s ability to squeeze out of you everything that they possibly can. So what they’ve decided to do is market individualism and radical independence as ‘the right way’. And not only that, but what real love can show you is a need to switch up your priorities, that there is less you need in the way of materialism because the love from this person sends you to outer SPACE!

We’re told it’s a dangerous thing for a person to be dependent on another in that way. But that is yet another example of things we just assume to be the truth because that’s the structure of the current zeitgeist.

And what’s more, you shouldn’t put all your eggs in one basket because people are fickle. Your education is something no one can take away from you, but your partner could leave in a heartbeat, if they decide there are better “opportunities” around. But then I say to the partner who took off: if you think of love and romance as opportunities, maybe you shouldn’t allow other folks to waste their time on you. And even if you are like that and you think you’ve found someone you could legally bind yourself to, you’re certainly not spiritually bound, and I would hate to be that other person, knowing that you’re not throwing your entire might into it; that you’re not loving at full capacity. 

Of course, that conception of “romancing” can be learned too, and this is where that notion of “fun” comes into play. To be shallow and promiscuous, to make sure that you can lose your virginity as fast as possible, the free love, the cool detachment from relationships - it’s all bullshit. The sixties were obviously a pivotal moment for the shift in perception of sex and for some reason people thought the revolution to be completely justifiable. Now, people are convinced that giving it all away is a sign of liberation, of self-confidence, of self-determination - even if there’s something tugging at them that may be hinting otherwise. And even if that’s genuinely what you want to do with yourself, I can’t help but think of that attitude as being inherently nihilistic.

Many years ago I was reading an issue of Cosmopolitan where I came across an interview with Scarlett Johansson. Never mind what her personal decisions looked like, she said something profound. She said that sex (of the kind that involves both a penis and a vagina) is fundamentally different between men and women: for women, sex literally is invasive. People with penises share; people with vaginas invite. And for a young woman to try to convince herself that she should feel empowered by these invitations, it can be seriously damaging. I’d say the same is true for a lot of men, who really do believe that sex should be shared in the context of committed love, but conventional wisdom dictates that men find it easier to be promiscuous, to separate emotion from sex, and that women really need to “catch up” as part of their commitment to feminism. This obviously applies to non-binary individuals too. Like I said earlier, what one decides to do is their prerogative, but look critically at your reasons for making certain choices. Don’t, for one second, force yourself to believe that being promiscuous is the only way you can take ownership of your sexuality. Coercion doesn’t just happen on a one-to-one level.  

The point is that people aren’t fucking disposable, but of course disposability is capitalism’s modus operandi and that doesn’t just apply to that smartphone of yours that’s gonna break in a couple of years (or that will be superseded by a better model, whichever comes first).

People do still look for love; it’s in our nature. But these days, they make lists of qualities their ideal partners must possess. And it’s always generic shit like, “must have a sense of humour, must be kind, must be good-looking”...o rly? But the things that cause you to love a person can’t be captured with such dull language. When I think of these lists, I think of that song by Beyonce, “Irreplaceable”. She’s telling the dude not to get too comfortable because the spot he is currently occupying can easily be filled by someone else! That is not love, that is opportunism. Why would you even bother? When you really love a person, you think, “This is the truth. Things cannot be any other way.”

I also happen to think that once people sort of reach the age when marriage becomes a serious consideration, they often don’t marry because of love and a willingness to merge their lives. It’s more like, “Well you seem convenient and this is yet another thing I have to check off my to-do list.” I really want to give some folks a good shake and say to them, you do realize that the wedding you are planning is ONE day where you get to be the star, where you’re gathering the people that mean something to you so you can make a public declaration of your love and commitment to care for the person’s heart (because that is your responsibility), and that a wedding day is absolutely nothing like the rest of your life?!

And then there’s that trope in modern Hollywood, where partnered, career women gather around wine and complain about their significant others. Guys do it too, but they’re obviously shown drinking beer instead of wine and it’s more like, “Oh, you know the old ball-and-chain said I did X wrong today...” And similarly, in “The Crown”, where Tony, Princess Margaret’s photographer lover distinctly says, “Marriage is the opposite of happiness” - but they get married anyway!!! It’s like there’s a brick wall that’s being thrown up, cutting you off from your partner. That doesn’t look like a real partnership to me. And I think, the moment you decide that’s what you’re gonna do, that’s how you’re gonna live your life in response to this other person, then you should seriously reconsider your choices. I used to look at people who behaved like that and think, God, is that what marriage is actually like? Then I want no part of it! Those sorts of arrangements inevitably lead to misery. And divorce can send a person packing with their tail between their legs because it is perceived as a failure. And rightly so. It is a failure of mindfulness, it is a reflection of the “afterthought” I spoke of earlier. It is an indication of your decision to work harder at other shit than at your most important relationship. It is a situation where gratitude is replaced by taking things for granted.

People tend to think that if you’re not a relative of someone’s, that when the “only” stakes at hand are romantic/intimate ones, that such a person is untrustworthy. That’s because those bonds are no longer thought to be strong enough to withstand tests. Let me provide you with a reality check: sometimes even your blood relatives cannot be trusted because they don’t always have your best interests at heart. And if you assume that their goodwill toward you is a given because you are a “natural” family, you would be wrong. Again, you must always pay attention to a person’s motives, what spurs them into action, and we would all do well to treat opinions formed out of resentment with a grain of salt.

You may think that psychopaths are only out to end conscious lives, but those are only the obvious ones, and often they don’t get very far because they are so obvious. The people who put their own evil to good use are disguised in much better ways - so well that you can’t even tell, and they’re the ones that deliberately manipulate your thinking for their own benefit, but definitely not for yours. You may have encountered someone like this in your personal life and sensed that something was “off”. But you’re in denial because there’s no way someone close to you could have evil in them, and you really want to believe that he or she is a good person, but you certainly won’t say anything for fear of blowing the roof off the house. How awkward would THAT be?

I want to offer a new definition of capitalism, which is “the method of creating problems where there are none, and offering a solution that can only be purchased.” Problems are identified in advertising and marketing. Solutions are in the shops. Take make-up for example. I’ve worn it, and at some point I’ll probably wear it again. It can be fun; it can be a way to express yourself as part of a sartorial performance, where people gather to see what you have to (non-verbally) say. But I do not approve of the thinking that a person needs to distort their features, every damn day, because they think their natural faces aren’t good enough. Over the last decade or so, make-up development and marketing has basically exploded and been supported by seemingly innocuous vehicles such as Instagram. And why is it that women suffer disproportionately in this arena compared to men? Don’t get me wrong - men have their problems too, which I will talk about in a bit. But THIS is just so lopsided: what capitalists are telling you is that there is a gap between who you really are and how you should be, and you need to fork out the money, and you need to engage in more labour, to close that gap. No doubt though, what they demand of you must be reasonable enough that it will captivate a large enough audience to make development worth it.

“Aspect perception” is key here, and I’m not talking about ‘contouring of the face’. I’m talking about the entrenched attitude that your plain skin, in all its blemish-y loveliness, needs fixing. I do believe it takes courage to go out in public and leave behind the foundation and the concealer and the other like, SEVEN products some women use daily, because in a way you are baring yourself and you are making yourself vulnerable. Flamboyant women have it easier than flamboyant men, that’s for sure. But male faces are fine just as they are; why can’t that hold true for women?

So now we’re entering the territory of that wild beast we like to call feminism. I just want to make a disclaimer before I piss a lot of people off, in case I haven’t already done so: there is absolutely no way an umbrella term like feminism can equalize all women in terms of the problems we experience, and we must be very careful to sift through those problems that women happen to experience, and those problems that women have because they are women. After all, feminism is at its core a meditation on causes and effects, problems and ways to mitigate them. I mean, I don’t blame people for the messiness of this topic - it’s really bloody hard to put one’s finger on a single, fundamental fact from which all problems emanate. What I absolutely cannot condone is the idea that the solution is to HATE MEN. Sure, there are disgraceful men around, but there are also disgraceful women who believe that they possess a sort of “moral immunity” just because they are women. I’ve had conversations with (at least partially straight) women who may or may not be in relationships with men, who BASH men for the sole reason that they are men! It’s shocking. Would you want to be in a relationship with a person who felt that you were a problem because of something you couldn’t change?

I understand that patriarchy can hit women hard. Some more so than others. But men suffer because of “patriarchy” too, and they don’t always enjoy the privilege that leftists assume men have. Let me explain it this way: when you see a man with power, you see a man. The problem on “the woman’s side” is that she feels there is no one to represent her. That’s one kind of problem. On the other hand, what men see when they look at a man with power is someone pretending to represent them, but what’s actually going on is that the man-spectator identifies all the qualities he has that don’t match up to the ‘ideal’ ones being marketed, and sees that gap I spoke of earlier and really struggles with what he needs to do to fill it. So here we go, here is a problem for which a solution must be found. Feminism shouldn’t be about antagonism between men and women, but unfortunately that’s how things have evolved and certain subsets of women are playing dodgeball with certain subsets of men. Men aren’t just thrown into the world as babies with a hunger for domination - those are learned behaviours, just as women with questionable morals are taught too. But of course a lot of men feel they need to keep quiet because this privilege is their birthright and because they’re men they’ve forfeited any shot at an opinion! At least that’s how it appears to me.

I’ve encountered all manner of people in my life, and let me reiterate something that I think we’ve heard lots. No matter what political orientation a person has, no matter how “cool” they are, to decide if they’re worth having around you must look at the way they treat people, because that’ll illuminate what they really think life should be made of. I’ve met people who consider themselves “radical social justice warriors” and “progressive”, but they’re rude, unkind, and worst of all, they lack humility. Many of them are filled with hate too. And while it is obvious that we need to recalibrate ourselves socially (hence this post), oppression comes in forms that many progressives are totally oblivious to, often because they are “worldly” individuals who come from middle-class backgrounds. 

Oppression is not just about the colour of someone’s skin or sexuality. For crying out loud, a person who is too tall or too short can technically be oppressed too, if they find themselves in a situation that wasn’t constructed with their literal point of view in mind!  I would define oppression as “a relationship between a person and their environment, whereby the environment is constructed in such a way that does not allow for the free and comfortable movement and expression of that individual.” So oppression isn’t static, and if we were to continue thinking of it as static, we’d still be running into problems trying to figure out what the hell to do about it.

Now, you may be asking why I’m talking about radical politics in a post that is focused on relationships. I’ve been around people who were socially disenfranchised. Not since I got ‘woke’, but when I was a child. There’s nothing less motivating or less empowering than the feeling that no one listens to your voice and you haven’t got anyone to translate for you, or to amplify your voice through a friggin’ megaphone. The people in those positions are usually poor, but they’re still trying to live their lives with the goal to at least sometimes feel happy. If that means shopping at big bad Walmart, then so be it. There is no “organizational”, or mobilizing potential there. It is by virtue of that fact that they continue to be in the positions they are in! They have few friends. They are avoided. They are forgotten. You don’t act like a good person because if you don’t you’re going to Hell. You act like a good person because you can’t stand the thought of someone else’s loneliness, pain, and the thought that real love might be completely absent from their lives. And to think that you have caused another’s pain, that is hell in itself. Sometimes I think about those people and I get sad, but what comforts me is the beatitude, “The meek will inherit the Earth.” That one always stuck with me.

Another thing. I’ve come into contact with people who have anarchistic sentiments, and frankly I sympathize with them. They do see how messed up this world has become and some feel desperate enough that they think we’d all be in a better position if we didn’t have capitalism’s puppets signing on the dotted lines. However, I don’t think it’s practical to raze the organizational components of society to the ground. Not only because the sheer amount of infrastructure we’ve built, but because things are so convoluted that people would enter a state of psychological shock! And while some shock is good, too much is debilitating. So with that understanding in mind, any criticisms I have, I offer from a dialectical perspective.

Karl Marx kind of used dialectics in his theories, and what the word basically means is that you’ve got something called a ‘thesis’ and something called an ‘antithesis’, with the antithesis usually being a response to the thesis, and they are always in opposition in some way. If you get lucky, you can meld the two together to generate a ‘synthesis’. This process can go on indefinitely, but the premise is that you can use the tools you’ve already got (and we have MANY, both technological and conceptual) to create something new... and possibly something better. People are angry all over the place (obviously - look how long this post is) and for good reason, but we really need to rethink how we channel that anger. I believe we all agree in one way though: just cut the shit.

Evil is a supernatural thing that preys on you and intentionally toys with the way you see yourself, and the way you see other people. It performs a rape of the soul. It creeps so slyly it can literally be staring you in the face and you don’t even notice it. It’s not like the ‘bad guys’ you see in Hollywood, where it’s blatant about its evilness. What’s so shockingly messed up about it is that it can totally disorient you. It sends you spiralling, shoves you into insanity, makes you distrustful, suspicious. It isolates you. It can cause you to value things you shouldn’t, and it devalues what’s already good. 

I know, because it’s happened to me.