#oh also shout out to that article that talks about the use of fluids in succession <3

[amazingannaanya]

edit - there is a part 2 now <3

[haltandcatchfiretothemax]

FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2021 #14: in which Cameron and Joanie have some brunch

[CN: descriptions of food/prep]

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When Joanie came home in April of 1998 for her annual spring trip back to the states, Cameron had just begun her ’sabbatical.’ For much of that year, Cameron was focused on finally, fully settling in at Donna’s house (along with Licorice, who was now almost a year old) and on resting before starting work on a new game, and had taken a sudden interest in homemaking, the histories of domestic and agricultural labor, and most shockingly to Joanie, getting up in the actual morning, and at the same time every day. 

Once content to practically live in her pajamas when she wasn’t going anywhere, Cameron now got up at 9:30 on most weekdays, went downstairs and put on some coffee, made sure that the cat’s water and dry food bowls were full, and then went out to check on the garden and enjoy a few minutes of sunlight. After cereal and coffee, she would go back upstairs to do some morning journaling, which she’d been inspired to try after Donna added some collections by Mary Oliver and Emily Dickinson to their home library. Cameron didn’t think of herself as a very eloquent or even fluid writer, but she still hunkered down in the bedroom arm chair by the window and happily scribbled down notes on how she’d slept and if she’d any dreams, her plants and her on-going kitchen projects, recipes and restaurants she and Donna had tried, movies, tv shows, books, and articles she’d been looking at, Licorice’s favorite toys and treats, and conversations that she’d had with her growing circle of internet friends. And then she would shower, get dressed, and go back downstairs. Most mornings, Cameron was doing chores and searching for home and kitchen improvement projects she could do by 10:15. 

Joanie, who had only witnessed any of this because she was jetlagged for the first few days she was back in California, had gone back to staying up till 3 am and sleeping until noon as soon as she was physically able to do so. When she did finally make it downstairs, Cameron was in the kitchen, radio on, her books and notepads and mugs cluttering the island. Joanie would pour herself a large bowl of whatever cereal Cameron had purchased that week, and enjoy it in front of the tv, leaving Cameron to do her work. It was lonely, and it felt a little like being with a stranger, now that Cameron was her mother’s live-in girlfriend, and Joanie was something of a prodigal daughter, and an expatriate.

Ten days into her visit, Joanie came downstairs and found Cameron sitting at the island with some coffee. There were no books, just a large bowl of freshly rinsed grapes, and a basket of towels that were still warm from the dryer. “Want some brunch?” Cameron offered.

“Sure,” Joanie said. “I mean, yes. That would be nice.”

Cameron smiled, got up, and went around the island, into the kitchen, and to the refrigerator. Joanie sat down, and Licorice, seemingly able to sense that food was about to be prepared, trotted over from the big window that looked out on the pool, and sprang up on to the stool next to Joanie’s. She sat up on her hind legs, and looked expectantly into the kitchen.

Joanie leaned over to her. “Come here often?” When Licorice didn’t respond, Joanie nodded, “You’re right, that’s a terrible and cliché line.” 

Cameron set a mug of coffee and carton of creamer in front of Joanie, and pushed the bowl of grapes toward her, and then went back to the stove, where her favorite frying pan was warming up. 

“So my mom has like, fully domesticated you, huh?” Joanie said, reaching for the mug and the creamer.

Cameron, who was beating their eggs, shrugged gently. “It’s nice to have a home after living out of a duffel bag for your entire adult life. It seems silly, at first, but then, you realize that it isn’t.” Setting down the bowl, Cameron said, “Tell you what: in a few years when you find something more permanent, after a few more years of bouncing back and forth between cities and hostels and capsule hotels, I’ll ask you how you feel about it?”

Sipping her coffee, Joanie agreed, “Deal.” She put down her mug, and timidly, asked Cameron, “Do you ever wonder what Tori Lowman might say if she could see you playing house for real, with my mom?”

Cameron shook her head as she whisked the eggs into her now warm pan. “You’re really never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

The warmth in Cameron’s voice reminded Joanie that she was home, even if Northern California wasn’t her home anymore. “Back in Dallas,” Joanie started, “my only real friend was this girl named Heather. I think that maybe she was my Tori Loman.” 

The eggs were just starting to set, so Cameron turned down the heat, and used her favorite spatula to pull the egg mixture in, toward the center of the pan. Over her shoulder, she said, “…oh?”

Joanie sighed quietly, relieved by this endearingly momish response. “She was the only person at school that I really liked. She had long black hair, and she was a little taller than I was, and she was broader than I was too. We used to go down to this creek and ride our bikes after school. And I just, I wanted to do that every day. Like, for the rest of time.”

Cameron grinned as she laid some strips of bacon in the pan. “That sounds about right.”

“She used to take these dance classes,” Joanie continued. “I kind of hated dancing, but I wanted to sign up for her classes, until I realized that they were like, these special Native American dance classes? Her family was Apache, and they used to go to these special dance competitions and tribal events on the weekends. I wanted to go to one of them. I think if I’d asked my mom, she probably would have tried to work something out. But I never did, I was too scared?”

Still listening, and now thinking, Cameron pulled two plates out of the dishwasher. She spooned the eggs and bacon onto their plates, and then reached for the english muffin halves she’d toasted, and placed them carefully on the side. She picked up the plates, turned back to Joanie, and placed them down on the island. She rested her hands on the island, and then, shrewdly, said, “You were afraid that you’d have fun, and that your crush on her would get worse. Or harder to ignore?”

Joanie couldn’t believe what a relief it was to hear someone else say it, get it.

Licorice, front paws on the counter, strained to get nearer to the plates. “No, you already ate,” Cameron said. She grabbed a grape from the bowl and rolled it toward Licorice, who was transfixed. She batted it off the table, and jumped down to the floor to play with it. Crisis averted, Cameron grabbed some forks from the drawer, and then went around the island, handed Joanie a fork, and sat down next to her, taking Licorice’s seat.

Joanie picked up half of her english muffin and took a large bite out of it. She chewed thoughtfully, and then picked up her fork. She swallowed, and then said, “Heather seemed all well-behaved and agreeable, but she wasn’t really. She had a bb gun, and she would practice shooting at guns and bottles, and she wanted to learn archery, and how to throw knives. She liked Heart and Led Zeppelin, they were her dad and her mom’s favorite bands. She had older brothers, and she knew all these dirty jokes because of them and she would tell them and I would always laugh at them even though we didn’t really know what they meant? She also liked to steal her brothers’ clothes and wear them when we rode bikes. And she would make me race her even when I said I didn’t feel like it, and she would chase bullies, and she would be mean to them. Like, really mean. And she would curse them, like she would say she was putting an ‘Indian curse’ on them.” She paused to eat some of her food, which must have been getting cold, and then finally, she said, “I wish I’d tried to talk to her after we moved to California. I figured we’d never talk again, and I thought that maybe that would be better. I should’ve at least tried to be her pen pal though, or something.”

Cameron, who had finished most of her brunch while listening to Joanie, picked up her mug and drank some of her coffee. And then, she said, “Tori Loman had curly, frizzy black hair that she would say she didn’t like, but I never thought there was anything wrong with it. I liked it. She liked arts and crafts and coloring and making snacks with her mom. Her favorite snack was hot chocolate and cinnamon sugar toast. I wish I could be pen pals or something with her, too,” she said, before taking another sip of her coffee. 

Joanie ate the last of her eggs and bacon, and then she said, “When I first moved to Thailand, I met this girl named Sawyer, at the hostel. But I didn’t see her for a while, so we didn’t get a chance to really talk, but then one day I went out with this guy I had met, an Italian, from Florence, who turned out to be pushy and annoying and he followed me to my room and he kept trying to get me to invite him into my room even though I told him I was ready to go to bed, and Sawyer came out into the hallway and started, like, hassling him? Mostly in English but then she was shouting him down in Italian? And she finally got him to leave, and then we started talking. I asked her if she spoke Italian and she said no, but that ‘You’re bothering her, leave her alone’ is one of the first things she learns how to say whenever she goes anywhere, and that she knows how to say it in like, eight different languages?” Smiling broadly, Joanie finished, “And that was kind of just that. We’ve been partners in crime ever since. She was always going on day trips and weekend trips to different cities and islands outside of Bangkok, and she would invite me every time, and I would go with her as often as I could. We would try to rent bikes wherever we went, when we could. And after a while it felt like, I could do that for the rest of time. With her.” 

Cameron leaned back in her chair. “In romcoms, they call that a ‘meet cute’.” 

Joanie blushed. “Since when do you watch romcoms?”

“I don’t! But that’s what I’ve heard, I saw something about it on an internet message board,” Cameron said quickly. She picked up her plate, and then took Joanie’s, and walked them over to the kitchen counter near the dishwasher. She grabbed the coffee pot, and returned to her mug to refill it. “So is Sawyer…does she have a Tori Loman in her past, somewhere?”

Joanie pushed her mug toward Cameron’s, and as she added the rest of the coffee to it, Joanie said, “If I understand correctly, she has a few Tori Lomans.”

“Ah. I see,” Cameron said. She returned the pot to the coffee maker, and then went back to her seat. 

Staring down into her coffee, Joanie said, “I miss her. I’m glad I’m here. Like, really glad I’m here. Not everyone I’ve met has a home to go back to, you know? I wish that she could be here, though. I wish you and mom could meet her.”

Cameron cackled. “Your mother would lose her mind if you brought someone, anyone home for her to meet, Jesus. It’d be like the holidays, when she gets that vibe like she’s planning some kind of tactical land invasion, it would be peak Donna Emerson.” Tapping her mug excitedly with a nail, Cameron grinned, “It will drive me nuts. I can’t wait.” 

Slouching in her seat, Joanie sighed, “I feel like you’ll probably be waiting for a while. I feel like she would like to, but I can’t imagine it working out.” Joanie started to fiddle idly with her hair, wrapping the ends of it around her finger, and unwinding it. “Our lives are just like, so far removed from everything here? Which, that’s kind of the point, it’s okay. But she’s like, really different, about home. Or ‘home,’ or whatever,” she said, making air quotes with her fingers. “I’m waiting to go home, but like, in a good way, if that makes sense? I’m know I’m not supposed to yet, but I look for signs, and I know it will happen eventually. I’ll figure out what I’m supposed to do, and someday I’ll figure out how to do that here. But I don’t think Sawyer thinks that way, she’s always looking for the next adventure. Which is why I love her. But I don’t think she’ll see coming here as an adventure.”

Gently, Cameron said, “Joanie….” She kicked the foot of her stool playfully. “When I was living in Japan, do you ever think I felt like I’d wind up here? With you mom?”

“Probably not, I guess,” Joanie said, smiling tentatively.

“We dwell in possibility,” Cameron said, getting up and out of her seat again as she paraphrased Emily Dickinson. “Come on, let’s go find something fun to do,” she grabbed her mug.”You can tell me more about Sawyer, which I can use to make fun of you whenever you bring up Tori Loman.”

Joanie thought about arguing, but then she got up, grabbed her coffee, and followed Cameron. 

[midnightmarginalia]

Ho fuck this is long

Ok so like. I made a fucking mistake. I wrote an essay for my creative non-fiction class. We had to write a Lyric Essay. simple enough. it's whatever. I transcribed parts of my journal. it was fun. HOWEVER, I made the mistake of telling the class that I did some heavy editing to get rid of some unconventional grammar I use cuz internet, ya know? this was 3 days ago. jump to today. I wrote a 7-page essay trying to briefly explain SOME of the grammar conventions that have evolved alongside the internet. I had to explain this to a group of 40+ year-olds. so NOw I present this to you, o Tumblr. for the love of god let people read this and add to it, I spent eternally too much time on it 

So "Internet English" or "New English" is a linguistic phenomenon that centers on conveying tone and different connotative meanings through informal writing. Linguist Gretchen McCulloch actually released a book on this called Because Internet: Understanding the New Rules of Language.  Her book actually is really interesting (I highly recommend it) and covers some of what I'm going to be talking about today. In the first section, she compares the process of learning literacy to be similar to learning how to talk solely through exposure to formal writing like speeches, screenplays, audiobooks, etc. You miss all the nuances of informal speaking. Well, the same is true for written language. Before the Internet, informal writing was extremely hard to come by and even harder to study; even letters, postcards, secretive notes and the like were still written fairly formally because there were no mass text-based communication practices. Now, we have this vast intangible library of infinite knowledge and human interactions, making the necessity of informal writing more prominent. As such, internet users, especially people from my generation, have evolved a subset of written English to better express connotative meaning through the use, abuse, and misuse of capitalization, spacing, spelling, punctuation, incomplete sentences, and more. Let me show you a little of what I mean.

Capitalization

Capitalization is a common convention used to convey emphasis, although which type of emphasis that is changes based on how the capitalization is used.

Random Capitalization is meant to grab Attention and express that Something is Very Important or should be Stressed by Your Inner Voice when reading.

ALL CAPS IS MEANT TO SIGNIFY A VAST INCREASE IN VOLUME, THOUGH IT IS OFTEN INTERPRETED AS SHOUTING. THIS IS NOT ALWAYS THE CASE.

a crescENDO IS MEANT TO SPECIFY VOLUME AND/OR IMPORTance for one segment. It is often used to EXPRESS GROWING EXCITEMENT!

CaPiTaLiZiNG a RanDoM AsSoRTmEnT oF LetTerS ConVEyS SaRcAsM oR a MOcKinG TonE.

I cannot really articulate why but this, thIS, tHIS, and THIS are all different. This is called Varied Capitalization and can apply to any word, though I most often see and use it with articles.

not capitalizing anything in a sentence is an excellent way to express a monotone voice that seems very apathetic towards everything and everyone. "oh look. john and i went to the store. how exciting."

Spacing

Spacing Conventions are less common, and ultimately there is only one that I find noteworthy. Spacing out letters in a word like r e a l l y conveys that the word is significant. It takes up more space than really and thus needs to be stressed. It is also important to note that this convention is often coupled with full capitalization. There is a significant difference between "I am really hungry" and "I and r e a l l y hungry" and "I am R E A L L Y Hungry"

Spelling

Spelling, like Spacing, is less varied than some of these other conventions. The most common spelling convention you are likely to encounter is the Intentional Misspell. This is used to express one of two things; you can discern which by the context of the rest of the message. It can be used to display excitement. The misspell conveys a kind of excitement that interferes with dexterity, like how your hands shake after a jump scare: "gyus I just swa A Quiet Place  an d it s one f thr svsriest movis I've ever seen." The other emotion the Intentional Misspell can convey is much more subtle and complicated. It is the sense of false apathy. it is nit uncommun to putf a typo in everyr other werd or so to shwo yu don't realy give a fukc but yiu actually do. This is much harder to discern and your best bet on understanding this half of the convention is context clues.

Punctuation and Lack Thereof

Punctuation is, in my opinion, the best, most diverse option for conveying a specific kind of tone. There's a lot to cover here, so I will do my best to keep it brief.

A full stop is a short sentence with a period. It is meant to be read in a scolding tone. The usage of this is especially important in text message and chatroom settings because you can signify the end of a sentence by sending the message. A good rule of thumb for the tone is that the shorter the message, the more scolding the tone.

Putting. A. Period. Between. Words. Conveys. That. The. Matter. At. Hand. Must. Be. Taken. Seriously. This is simply the act of emphasizing each word with a full stop.

not having any punctuation or capitalization at all makes for a very fluid reading experience yes the sentences can get mixed up but those who read and write this way regularly can discern separate trains of thought if you've noticed the lack of capitalization you may recognize one of the earlier discussed conventions it is important to note however that the monotone voice of that convention disappears with the punctuation

Question marks now signify an upturn in the voicing of a statement rather than forcing something to be a question. now you may be asking yourself "why would they do this." The only answer I have for you is "it just seems right?" the upturn signifies a tentative statement while the flat delivery of the question signifies frustration or bafflement.

Punctuation Frequency is meant to signify the amount of severity accompanying the statement. This is exclusively used with question marks and exclamation marks. A common example is extending the simple “what?” to “what???????” Notice the difference? The same thing can be done with exclamation points. Note the increased excitement between “The baby was born today!” and “The babe was born today!!!!!!!!!!!” These, of course, can be amplified even further by incorporating some of the other conventions we’ve discussed previously.

Exclusive Punctuation is a convention most commonly found in messaging systems, but it is still important. “???” is an expression of pure confusion. If you were to receive this message, that whatever you sent the person prior has left them amazed, confused, flabbergasted, awe-struck, bewildered, and more. On the other hand “!!!” is an expression of pure excitement and glee. The best description I’ve seen for this is that it is a noise of happiness.

While there are dozens more grammatical conventions, these are the primary ones that a vast majority of people will use. It is time to move on.

Ellipses

Yes. This is punctuation. But it elicits its own category. Ellipses are great tools for signifying that there is more to this statement than meets the eye. However, there are now multiple types of ellipses that have different meanings.

Periodic Ellipses or Hard Ellipses are just that. Hard. Say I were to text someone “Hey can we talk after class...” The ellipsis generates a cold tone that has some worrying connotations. Something important to note here is that the length of the ellipsis can signify severity, though after a certain point it becomes superfluous and silly. The only friendly usage of a Hard Ellipsis is the Two-Dot Ellipsis. “Hey can we talk after class..” is far far less sinister than “Hey can we talk after class…”

Commatic Ellipses or Soft Ellipses are just that. Soft. Instead of being composed of periods, these ellipses are composed of commas and have a vastly different meaning. These are meant to convey either worrying or flirtatious tones. To go back to our previous example, “Hey can we talk after class,,,,,” is going to be read in a flirtatious manner. However, “Hey can we talk after class,” is going to be read worryingly.  The trick to discerning the different tones is the length of the ellipsis. Three commas or less conveys a worrisome tone, whereas five or more conveys a flirtatious tone.

Sentence Structure

Look! We’re almost done! There are many people who will play with sentence structure to convey meaning but the most widespread practice is the Incomplete Sentence. This one is actually fairly straightforward. Leaving a sentence incomplete expresses exhaustion (either emotional or physical) and adds a sense of trailing off in the speakers voice. I mean, have you ever started a sentence and then just

Noun/Verb Dichotomy

Ok last one. This one is also pretty straight forward, though still quite complex. The Noun/Verb Dichotomy is simple the act of using a noun in place of a verb to get your point across. For example, a more expressive (and in my opinion more accurate) way to say “I like to get a midnight snack at 2 in the morning” would be “I like to velociraptor around my house at 2 in the morning.” The second conjures such a specific image that it can more concisely convey the actions and emotions being done. The possibilities are endless. This opens up the door for someone to sentence how they want. Although many people will get a headache and want to clothesline into a wall. These all make sense to a native speaker of this kind of english because, while our brains do brain logically, english doesnt logic englishly so the brain brains by itself to logic the english!

So that is my mini-lesson on Internet English. please remember I haven't even begun to scratch the surface of what’s changed.

[disruptedvice]

Board games and black outs (b99 fic)

Just a fun little Peraltiago one shot

Summary: After the power goes out during a storm, Amy suggests playing a board game. Unfortunately, she only has children’s board games in her storage closet for when her nieces and nephews come over to play. Jake suggests they make things interesting.

AO3 link

____________________ 

Board games and black outs ____________________

Jake made it through approximately ten minutes before complaining about the power outage. One would think that even though the power was out, he’d still be able to use his cell phone to entertain himself as long as he had charged it (even if he hadn’t- you think Amy Santiago doesn’t have a portable battery for exactly this type of mobile disaster?)

But the same storm that knocked out the power (and thus the wifi) was also interfering with however 3g actually worked, so his phone officially had no signal (well, he could still make calls, he just had zero access to the internet, which was like the whole point of having a smart phone- who made calls these days anyway?).

Honestly, she was kinda impressed with ten minutes. She’d thought he’d only make it five.

“Amy! I’m bored!” Jake shouted from the couch when he met his limitations of distracting himself without the aide of technology. “What did people do before electronics! I mean people who hate books. What did they do before the radio was invented? What did people who hated reading do during a storm before electricity became a thing?”

“I have a few board games in the hall closet,” She called back helpfully from her bedroom where she had curled up to, of course, read a book after the power went out.

At first there was nothing but silence, then the sound of his footsteps pattering down the hall and the unmistakably squeaky sound of the closet door opening. There was more silence while he presumably looked over his options, then:

“Amy! Why do you only have board games like Candy Land and Sorry?!”

She rolled her eyes, reaching over and grabbing her bookmark to save her place before getting up. She knew she was going to end up playing something with him when she suggested games. The book she was reading was a bust anyway.

(She was still going to finish it though, because she couldn’t stand not finishing a book once she started it- but procrastinating reading a novel that she didn’t really care for- she definitely had time for that)

“Hey, I have all the kid’s games for when the nieces and nephews come to visit,” she said, defending her board game selection as she sauntered out to him in the hall. “I actually like reading when the power goes out,” Amy told him with a smirk. Jake grimaced, opening the closet door wider for her to look over all the options too (though they were her games in her closet).

“Screw it,” he decided, taking one of the board games for ages 3+ to play with his adult girlfriend during this torrential rain storm blackout. ____________________

“We’re making this interesting,” Jake said, slapping a 20 dollar bill on the floor after they had set up the board and all its pieces. He was still a bit pouty, but he figured a little wager might make this a bit more fun.

Amy gave him a pointed look at his proposition.

“It’s against the law to gamble.”

“Ames, betting 20 dollars on a game of Candy Land in your living room is hardly a crime. I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Amy thought for a moment, but she had a much better idea. “We could strip instead. Lose clothes instead of money.”

“Seriously?” He gave her the most I’m so done incredulous look. “Seriously? You think strip Candy Land is less morally questionable than gambling Candy Land?”

“No,” she informed him slowly, a sly smirk spreading across her face. “I think strip Candy Land is less boring than gambling Candy Land.”

Jake laughed. “You know, I think you might be right.” Now that that was settled, Jake cracked his knuckles, getting ready for a serious game of Candy Land. “Wait, are you wearing a bra right now? That’s an unfair advantage. That’d be four layers for you and three for me. And how do we even make this game strippable?”

“With only two players, each match will be over pretty quickly,” Amy said as she reached under her shirt, undoing her bra behind her back before sliding the straps down her arms and then pulling her bra out from under her shirt in an incredibly fluid motion. Then she just tossed it behind her onto the couch without missing a beat.

Obviously girls wore bras pretty much their whole lives, and that’s why guys sucked at taking them off most of the time, but it always kinda amazed him how fast she could do it. Amy was making up directions to a game and telling him all the rules and taking her bra off without removing her shirt with no hassle whatsoever, like she had it down to a science. Yup. Girls got taking off their bras down to a science.

She continued with her explanation, not even noticing how impressed he was by that move of hers. “And loser of a match takes off one article of clothing and then the next round starts. The first one to get naked ends the game, and the other person is the winner.”

“You know, you could’ve just kept your bra on and tossed the top,” Jake told her with a completely undeserved amount of cockiness. “You’re gonna be losing it anyway.”

“Are you trying to trash talk me over a game of Candy Land?” Amy couldn’t say she was surprised. “When was the last time you even played this game? Cause I played it two weeks ago. It’s my niece’s favorite game. I’ve got a whole lot of experience with it. And the only time I lose is because I let her win. Because she’s a child. You’re not getting off that easy, Jake. I’m gonna mop the floor with all the… clothes you’ll be losing?” The last part came out as a question, Amy squinting and tilting her head as the words came out of her mouth, because man, that really fell apart on her at the end, didn’t it? She shook her head, starting again for a quick recovery. “I’m gonna win. I’m gonna beat you. Your clothes will be on the ground, and I’ll still be wearing all mine because I’m gonna win. You can mop the floor with your own damn clothes.”

“I see you still suck just as much as always at trash talking,” Jake teased. “Good to know some things never change.”

Amy just stuck her tongue out at him in response, and Jake stuck his tongue back out at her because of course they did. Immature and childish antics was exactly the kind of thing these two full grown adults did whenever playing a children’s game. What did you expect? ____________________

They got down to business after they got all the taunting out of their system.

Jake lost the first round and sacrificed his shirt (still getting in the swing of the best strategy). Amy lost the next one and took of her pants, which wasn’t as exciting as one would think when they’d been dating for a year and she still had her shirt and underwear on, so pants were pretty inconsequential.

The third match had a lot of questions of cheating. A lot of unfounded accusations that were completely uncalled for, and they both had to apologize to each other when they realized they couldn’t even think of a possible way the other could have cheated.

And with gameplay this simple it really was a game of chance. Jake won the fourth round (the third one had been declared a draw obviously), and Amy unceremoniously slipped off her underwear and that too went the way of her pants and bra. And Jake realized they really should have stipulated that the winner got to chose which article of clothing the loser had to remove. Because that move was just cruel, and she knew it too.

She had the most in your face rubbing it in smirk on in the world, clearly very pleased with herself. She knew he was expecting to see some boobs. But no. She only had two articles of clothing left to remove, and she didn’t take off her shirt.

Nope. Instead he got an Amy Santiago sitting bare assed on the floor while they played strip Candy Land while she was still wearing her fucking shirt. So unfair.

Not that that was a bad view or anything. It’s just… boobs.

Jake was determined to get her to take that damn shirt off. ____________________

So, of course, he lost the next round. And the next one. After he shucked off his boxers the game was officially concluded with Jake Peralta as the naked loser.

“Loser gets to clean up!” Amy declared as she stood up herself. Apparently leaving it to him to pick up the pieces, cards, and game board all by himself. It wasn’t like Candy Land was particularly hard to clean up; he still found himself pouting when she started walking away. (Though the view of her backside and ass swaying with her hips was enough to make him appreciate the fact that she still had her shirt on)

“Where are you going?” He called out after her, still wrapping the rubber band back around the draw deck of cards.

“Bedroom,” Amy answered back, and he remembered. Oh. Her book. She was going to go back to reading because she was one of those people who was actually entertained by books in a black out. Somehow, strip Candy Land wasn’t going to end in adult fun times. Oh.

“Hey Jake?” Amy paused in the entrance of the hallway, turning back to him with a look that could only be described as inviting..

“What?”

“You know, if we blow out the candles it’ll be pitch black,” Amy said with a wicked smile. “So what do you say? You wanna have sex in the dark?”

“I’m coming!”

[songketalliance]

A Daughter’s Duties: Sexism at Home

““Seharian inda nampak,” the adult says when I go out. My curfew is rock solid while a male child’s is fluid. I don’t see them waiting in line for the “going out” application process often. Do they even ask permission? How much shouting, arguing, and negotiating do they have to endure?”

by Haley B

“Payah jadi bini-bini ani.” I feel like I could say this to a stranger in passing and have her agree with me. Don’t get me wrong though. I love being a girl—it’s just that, lately, as I traverse deeper into the realms of adulthood, society around me seems intent on weighing me down due to what I carry between my legs.

Growing up, I remember trying to make sense of the world in parallels. Where I saw a difference (between boys and girls in particular), I would draw parallels to understand it.

For example, I wear a skirt and boys wear pants at school but we wear the same things at PE. Different toilet signs: boys are ordinary and girls wear capes. The buzz cuts on their small heads, the braid that fell on my back. The anatomy between our legs were different, it worked differently too (to my dismay, standing up over the toilet bowl, willing for a clear shot and disappointingly having to wash my legs after) but it’s cool, girls get to chill and sit while peeing.

But that was where the parallels ended for a while for me. Except for the complicated concept of childbirth I found out a little later.

I was always observant as a child and was usually chastised for butting in older people’s conversations, because “kanak-kanak inda boleh menyampuk.”

So I ended up just listening. I listened as older women talk about how painful childbirth is and I, in my kanak-kanak mind, dusted that information off with, well... Boys get circumcised and I hear that’s painful too... not realising girls also get circumcised earlier in my culture  and is made into a smaller deal than boys’.

And then puberty came and things became a bit more complicated.

The line between boys and girls were drawn from my home life. From the adults around us who built this strange platform for being a daughter.

I couldn’t sit and talk just any way that I wanted to. I have become “anak dara” and I can no longer play with my toys and mind my own business.

A son comes home, noisy and hungry. That’s the time ‘dapur berasap’. And when I--the daughter--comes home hungry, I’m supposed to figure that out on my own.

Well, it’s because “kamu (daughters) pandai sendiri-sendiri,” the adult says.

Okay. So when are the boys going to learn?

My time (the daughter) isn’t my own anymore; I can’t chill too long because somehow my tiredness weighs less than that of a man’s.

“Seharian inda nampak,” the adult says when I go out. My curfew is rock solid while a male child’s is fluid. I don’t see them waiting in line for the “going out” application process often. Do they even ask permission? How much shouting, arguing, and negotiating do they have to endure?

I have become a part of the hosting committee in Ramadan and Raya, often dominated by women. Cooking and hosting for family during sungkai. “Banyak pahala,” they tell you (but the boys don’t have to have pahala?), the expectations are as high as if I were Nigella Lawson when really, the reason is simply because “Kau bini-bini!”

During Raya, you gotta prepare the tea, serve the guests and attend to refills. You have to be on stand-by. My brothers do this too but they actually get to volunteer before they’re actually forced to be stationed near the guest living room at all times.

Daughters are suddenly at the forefront of representing your family, but not when it comes to more important matters like voicing out opinions during family meetings--no, you just become the perpetual memo taker.

Suddenly, at raya, people want to know, where do you go to school? How well are you academically? Have I considered X and Y products for that acne? Maybe some weight loss would help too.

Beyond what lay between my legs, my chest, my bottom and my skin, my weight too, seem to hold so much more meaning to the adults around me. 

So many expectations. So many! The teenage me grumbled.

BUT academically! Yes, expectations were there for my brothers too. Phew! Okay.

Oh, but what was this about marriageable ages. I gotta get married at 24? And what of my brothers, when do they wanna marry? Oh it’s up to them?

Unfortunately, it’s hard to bring this up with my brothers. Not because they wouldn’t listen to me, but because I never even considered bringing them into that fold—it somehow feels sacred now to talk about between the womenfolk. This underlying imbalance we’ve been accustomed to. And sadly, I realize lately, even between girls you need to discern who to talk to that could relate to this.

Because like the boys, they seem to think this is just the way it’s supposed to be.

On the other hand, maybe I don’t want to address the issue with my brothers for fear of... what if they think this was the norm too? I guess I didn’t want to confirm this for myself, because talking about it makes it true. Like how you do with harsh truths, even when the sight of reality is glaring right in front of you.

Lately I realise my accomplishments are dimmed by the light of things like my age. I’d convince myself  with how I’ve gotten a degree, and university for me was so difficult, and I now have a job in this economy. 

"BUT you’re 27 and by that time your mum already had 3 children," a voice bellows from the depth within me.

And I look at the daughters that have become mothers, entering into this wheel. It’s not enough if you’ve reached a high ranking position at your job--you could be THE boss for all it’s worth...but can you cook? Are your children happy and getting straight A’s?

Why do we have to meet so many standards, answer to so many people?

Why is our worth conditional to so many things?

At a sungkai family gathering, I sat and observed the older women tending to their husbands, bringing the men plates of food and glasses of drinks.

Wondering why the merit of preparing food for your partner, tending to your children and looking good while at it, fell solely on the girls’ team.

I sat alone, looking at this 'normality' sighing, “Payah jadi bini-bini ani.”

by Haley B

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[sawyersscribbles]

Original Fic Fest Day 1: Character

Hi everyone! So for the event by @originalficfest I’m doing Character Day for the first day of the week of original fiction, and I’ll be focusing on Azalea today! I’ve been seeing people do moldboards and descriptions of their characters, but I thought I would do something different for mine.

I wrote a little prompt about one of my characters, Azalea Summers, and it’s the story of spending a morning with her when the rest of the gang is away! If this interests you, try finding the rest of my excerpts and story here so you can see more about this project :) Alright, here we go:

~

Azalea always thought she was the odd one out, but when she woke up at exactly 7:39 to find the base in pitch black darkness, the kitchen empty, and a single note on the table, she knew for sure.

At first, she was pleased to finally have the house to herself. To celebrate, she shouted loudly at nothing and let the noise from her voice bounce off of the ceiling, the rushing sewage river, the surfaces of half-drank cups of coffee that had yet to be put away. But then she was finished, yelling, and she wasn’t so pleased anymore.

“Dear Azalea: Good morning! Axel, Max, Trinity, and I all went to get some bagels, and I didn’t think to wake you since I know you hate those little seeds that they put on them sometimes. Anyway, I don’t know when we’ll be back, so make yourself breakfast or something, I don’t know, you’re smart, you can handle it. Oh, and don’t forget to feed Cornelius! And this is Reese by the way.” The letter ended abruptly with a tear at the bottom of the page. On the other side was an article about how to match colors and outfits, stolen from a teen magazine.

Cornelius was Reese’s snake, who she found one day and never got rid of, to Trinity’s disappointment. Azalea didn’t want to let Reese down, but she also didn’t know what snakes ate, or where the snake even was.

“Don’t you pull your karma jazz on me, you saw me tryin’!” Azalea yelled upwards towards the sky, hoping maybe someone would hear her and take her off the big “karma list” in the sky. Until then, her stomach stopped her from her daydream.

Looking down, she clutched it and sighed to herself.

She had been dead for seventy years, only just recently coming back to earth. Of all the things that the High Demon allowed her to remember from this world, cooking was not one of them.

Feeling around the cabinet, Azalea reached for some sort of cereal box, but all she could find was a bag of straight oats, pancake mix, and half of a banana, browning quickly in the cabinet.

“Aw, ick!” He cried and pulled her hand back like she had been stunned, wiping the slick banana fluid from her fingertips. “I told you I thought about helping! Karma isn’t supposed to get me!” She yelled upwards again, mentally cursing the instant consequences. The universe usually wronged her like that.

Instead, she settled for pouring the pancake mix in a bowl, adding water, and eating it as if it was oatmeal.

“Immediate regret, immediate regret, immediate regret!” She cried, running in circles around the kitchen and scraping her tongue with her fingers in order to either scrape off the mixture or scrape off the tongue itself, at that point, she had no preference.

“It’s fine, Azalea, you are like Edie Sedgwick; poised, beautiful, and sexy.” She told herself to calm down. She was sure that if she brought up Edie in front of the rest of the group, they would have no idea what she was talking about. Having died in the sixties, most of her references were lost on them, but then again, so were Axel’s.

“You can figure this out,” she told herself, “just...put it in a pan! Yeah, that’s it, you pour it in a pan and then flip them! Ha, you can’t catch me, karma!” Quickly, she raced to where she once saw Axel put away a pan and slapped it on the stovetop with a loud clang. Even she jumped, though she was sure that her adrenaline would have made her invincible.

After the pan had heated up, she triumphantly poured the mixture of pancake mix and water into the pan, watching as the solution spread in the pan.

She brushed some black hair out of her eyes and tossed it happily over her shoulder. “Actually, before the karma even starts, I’m taking care of that snake, right this second.” She said aloud, just in case anyone was listening. She always made sure to do good, especially since she did so much wrong in her first life.

The snake was the last place she expected: a pie of her laundry that smelled suspiciously like feces. The rustling of clothes caught her attention first, and upon going back into her room, the orange snake was curled up in one of her socks, sticking his tongue out to taste the air around him.

“Agh, gross!” She yelled, throwing a pillow at the thing without thinking. It hit dead on, but the snake seemed unaffected, slithering away from the pile and towards her feet.

With speed she wasn’t sure was possible at 8:07 in the morning, she scrambled out of her room and into Max’s room next to hers.

Quivering in his sheets, she threw the towel which he used as a blanket over her head and tried to squeeze her eyes closed. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, but it was long enough for the hatch leading down into the sewers where she lived to open. She immediately heard Trinity speak first, but under the pile of fabric, she couldn’t hear quite what she was saying.

The talking quickly turned into screams, and peeping her head outside of Max’s room, she found smoke billowing out of the kitchen and collecting on the water’s surface.

“Azalea, for the love of all that is good, if you’re going to make pancakes, you have to fucking watch it!” Screamed Axel, who was grappling with a fire extinguisher through the smoke. Saying nothing, Azalea reseeded back into her bundle, away from the snake, away from her probably-pissed-off friends, and away from the karma that was surely waiting for her outside.

[daebakinc]

Mercy

Please have mercy on me. Take it easy on my heart. Even though you don’t mean to hurt me, you keep tearing me apart.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC Genre: College AU, angst, romance,  Summary: After a homework mix-up, you agree to tutor Jungkook in math in exchange for him tutoring you in dance. In more ways than one, you get much more than you bargained for. Parts:  1, 2, 3 A/N: This was originally going to be a oneshot, but it kind of became a monster, so there’ll be at least 1 more part. Maybe 2…. Also, there is some swearing but I tried to keep it to a minimum.

Cats can’t dance. But if they did, they would dance like Jeon Jungkook. Fluid and virile and beguiling. Amid the other advanced dance class members, he shines like a star of his own.

           You don’t mean to be spying on him. Technically, you aren’t anyway. Waiting in the freezing locker room after changing is not appealing. So, you’re waiting in the hall outside the studio. The door is a single pane of wide glass that gives an almost unobstructed view of floor full of dancers.

           You secretly envy all the students inside. They can transform music into movement and make it look as naturally as breathing. Having that kind of intuition for beauty must be such an incredible gift. Jungkook received said gift ten-fold from the few glimpses of him you’ve seen.

           Your university’s program has an impeccable reputation. Freshmen rarely get into the higher dance classes. However, even with your untrained eye, you applaud the department head for making an exception. Rumor has it Jungkook may be getting a solo piece in the spring art symposium. You can’t help but wonder if he’ll be the choreographer and what kind of music would best suit his abilities.

           “Wishing you were in there?” Namjoon comes to stand beside you. Yoongi is just over his shoulder. They almost look like twins in their all black outfits, but you suppose that happens sometimes with best friends.

           You snort. “No way. I’d look like a goose trying to do Swan Lake.” You turn to rest your back fully against the wall to better look at your friends. Even though you’re all different majors, your designated places in the back of the dance classroom made you bond quickly.

           “Come on, you’re not that bad.” Namjoon smiles and joins you on the wall to nudge your shoulder with his. With his lanky frame, you would’ve thought he’d be graceful, but somehow the poor kid almost broke the ballet bar in the first week of class. Still, he’s improved a lot since then.

           “Definitely not as bad as we were to start,” Yoongi drawls. He leans back and slides down the opposite wall. Although Yoongi can seem lazy, you’ve learned he’s anything but. And as much as he complains about dancing, he’s quite good. Putting his rolled hoodie behind his head, he sighs. “I’m going to have to set three alarms next time to get my butt out of the studio to register for classes for next semester so I don’t get stuck with a gen ed class like this.”

           “The first aid classes were gone like that,” Namjoon laments with a snap of his fingers. “I was so focused on getting my psych and philosophy classes that I left this physical education credit to the last minute. First month of the semester is over at least.”

           “You’re both exaggerating. You’re really good. I’m the one who’s going to fall on my face for our exam. I got a ‘C’ on that first performance test. A ‘C’. This’ll be my lowest grade since I failed that test in middle school,” you sigh.

           “You failed a test?” Namjoon’s mouth falls open. One of your strongest bonding points with him is your drive for high grades. “You? What subject?”

           “Not important,” Yoongi interrupts. He shoots you a teasing half smile. “You’ll ace it if you make it a comedy act.”

           You roll your eyes. “Not helping, Yoongi.”

           “I’m kidding. If we’re good, so are you.”

           “Uh-huh.”

           The door opens, putting a stop to your banter. You shift closer to Namjoon as students flow out. Jungkook is one of the last to exit, flicking damp bangs from his forehead. His plain white t-shirt sticks to his chest, leaving too little to the imagination. Sweat adds an extra sheen to his glowing tan skin. Sweaty men should not be this attractive. It’s just not fair.

When Jungkook sees Yoongi, a bright smile fills his face. “Hi! Oh, thanks.” He gratefully catches the water bottle Yoongi tosses him, pausing as his hand closes around the cap. “Don’t you need this?”

           Yoongi waves his hand. “I always bring two. That one’s all yours, kid.”

           “Nice to see you too, Jungkook.” Namjoon chuckles.

           Before Jungkook can turn around and see your blushing face, you duck inside the classroom.

           After class, you trudge up the long hill to the campus mailroom. The incline makes your legs hurt, but you’re desperately hoping the care package your best friend sent will be waiting. Chocolate and tea and a new face mask she now swears by. All the pampering an over-worked college girl needs.

When you open your mailbox, your anticipation instantly deflates. No package notice slip waits, only a bundle of unattractive looking papers. Closing your box, you flip through them. Various fliers and party notices go right into the convenient recycling bin. The last is a stapled packet of paper you recognize as your math test. It was only a mid- chapter review. You know you did well on it so you’re not really concerned with your grade.

Your hand tilts to drop it in along with the other content, but as the paper shifts, the first number of the grade catches your eye.

           “What?” you screech.

           Even if the mailroom wasn’t abandoned as it is at this hour, you wouldn’t care. You tear the paper open and stare at the first page. The big ‘F’ glares back you in accusatory red marker. The number grade below it only confirms the letter.

           “This has to be a mistake,” you mutter, heart pounding and hands suddenly clammy. Sure, you barely studied, but this was simple stuff. You’d gotten check pluses on all your homework assignments for the chapter. Your eyes scan the page, jumping to the name when you notice the work isn’t in your handwriting.

           Jeon Jungkook.

           You freeze. The golden boy is bad… at math? Although you’ve never talked to him yourself, all you ever hear is how perfect Jungkook is. Everything he does seems designed for an article in the alum magazines, tailored to rake in the big buck donations. To say such a person doesn’t intimidate you a little would be lying, but here is a chink in his armor.

You snap the test back in half, embarrassed. You need to get this back to him as soon as possible. He obviously needs the review and you would personally be mortified if someone else saw a grade like this. A quick look in the student database gets you his dorm building and room number. Turns out he lives in your building, only three floors down.

           Bass thumps through Jungkook’s door. Pokémon cutouts and fliers for some underground club plaster the surface, almost obscuring the smiley faces with Jungkook and his roommates’ names on them. You knock once, then harder when there’s no answer.

           A tall boy with a bandanna headband opens the door. Even though you’ve never seen him in your life, he greets you with a wide grin. A requirement for this floor must be to be way more handsome than the average human. “Hi.”

           His easy smile gives you a hit of courage. “Hi. Is, um, Jungkook here?”

           “Yeah. Jungkook! There’s a cute girl here for you.” He winks and disappears back into the room, leaving you trying not to wrinkle the test in your nervous hands.

           “A girl? Nice try, Tae. Why-” Jungkook stops short when he sees you standing there. He looks young and soft in another white shirt and faded black sweatpants. “Hi… I-I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

           “Kind of.” You smile. New people make you unsettled, but it’s something you’re attempting to work on. “I sit two rows in front of you in our math class and my Beginning Modern class on Tuesdays and Thursdays is right after your class. We’ve never talked though. I’m-”

           “Wait, I know your name. You’re the one who always says 'present’ when the professor calls role,” When he says it correctly, you’re caught off guard. With such a big class, you didn’t expect him to remember your name, let alone a detail like that.

           “Yes, that’s me. Old habits die hard.”

           “Cool. So… what’s up?”

           “Well,” you hold out the folded paper, “The professor accidentally put your review in my box. Mine’s 213.”

           “Mine’s 231. Easy mistake to make, I guess. Thanks for bringing it.” Jungkook takes the test from you and sneaks a look at it.

           His smile falls the second he sees the grade. His fingers crinkle the paper as his grip tightens. Frustration flares in his eyes, but degenerates into unhappy resignation in a blink.

            The frown on his face is so piteous you can’t help making an impulsive offer. “Would you like me to tutor you?”

           Jungkook’s face snaps up to yours, eyes wide. “Tutor me?”

           “I’m really sorry; I thought it was mine so I saw your grade. I’m not the best in our class, but I still have an ‘A’ so I could tutor you to give you some extra help.”

           He runs a hand through his hair, disturbing the beanie on his head. Though he looks tempted, clearly his pride is in play. “I don’t have any money to pay you…”

           Another idea pops to life in your head. “We could do an exchange then, if you want. I tutor you in math, you tutor me in dance? I barely passed our midterm. It’s a win-win, right?”

           “Take the deal already so we don’t have to listen to you moan and groan about your homework all the time,” a voice yells.

           “I don’t complain; that’s you over your Chemistry, Hoseok!” Jungkook shouts over his shoulder. Turning back to you, a shyer version of his smile returns. “I appreciate the offer a lot, but I usually practice until late. That’s why I can’t use the school tutors.”

           “I work late too at the cafe by the library every day except weekends.” You shrug. “I could meet you in whichever studio you use after work. You don’t have to agree-”

           Jungkook jumps in, “Please. You saw my grade. I’d be really dumb not to say 'yes.’ I’ll make it work… I guess I should give you my number so I can let you know which studio I end up using.”

           “Sure.” Digging out your phone, you hand it to him. In a matter of seconds, his phone dings and he hands yours back. You try not to notice the veins prominently etched under his skin.

“What time do you get off?” he asks.

           “11 or 11:30, depending on how busy we are in the last hour.”

           “I could probably finish or fit in a break around there. Do you want to start tomorrow or…?”

           “Tomorrow’s fine. I’ll text you when I get off.”

           “Sounds good. Really, thanks for this. You’re probably saving my butt this semester.”

           “No problem.” Out of habit, you extend your hand before you can help yourself.

           Jungkook looks down at it uncertainly but gives it a quick shake before you can retract it. His hand is warm and softer than you expected.

           You quickly drop it and blurt out, “I’ve got other homework so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

           “Me too. Have a good night.”

           “You too. Bye.” You wave awkwardly and take off before you can embarrass yourself more.

           Wednesdays are one of your busiest days. That means you don’t have time to think about your meeting with Jungkook until you’re turning off the light at 11:15. It’s a ten-minute walk across campus to the gym complex. Admittedly, you’re a little nervous. It usually takes you awhile to warm up to people, especially boys.

But Jungkook seems as shy as you normally are and he looked so disappointed with his grade, your caretaker side took over. But who knows if you’ll actually make a good tutor or if you’ll confuse him more. To avoid becoming a shaking mess, you stick in your earbuds and turn up the volume to an unhealthy level.

           Just as you get to the gym door, you see someone moving towards it, key in hand. You run, your hand slamming on the door.

           “Sorry, we’re closing-” The man looks up and you recognize Jungkook’s roommate who answered the door. He smiles just as brightly as before. “Oh, it’s you. You here to meet Jungkook?”

           “Yeah. But you just said the gym’s closed.”

           “Ah, not for you.” He pushes the door open and ushers you in. “Jungkook’s got special permission to practice as long as he wants. He knows how to get out once I lock up. He’s down on the ground floor, second studio on the right. Should be the only one with lights on.”

           “Oh, thanks.”

           “Have fun, you crazy kids. Don’t do anything I’d do,” he calls after you as you head down the stairs.

           The small studio is empty and quiet when you arrive. The green lights of the stereo are still blinking, but no Jungkook. When you step further into the room and look around, you see a torn piece of notebook paper with your name on it folded around the bar.

Grabbing a quick shower. Be back soon. -Jungkook

           Shrugging, you notice a bookbag sitting on top of a pile of mats in the corner. A phone rests propped up against that. You settle yourself beside it and pull out your materials. Your textbook, the homework you already started, extra pencils, your calculator, and a copy of your notes you made for Jungkook. His writing on the note may be neat, but his notes could be a different matter entirely.

           Jungkook walks back through the door. He jumps when he sees you, his eyes widening, but he recovers quickly. Another white shirt clings to the damp skin on his arms, but his basketball shorts hang loose around his legs. “Hey. I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”

           “No, I just got here a few minutes ago,” you assure him. “How’re you?”            “Good, good. You?”

“Tired. I thought we could do math first and dance later? My feet could use a rest, sorry.”

           “No, no. That’s fine.” He hurries over and leans down to rummage through his bookbag. You can smell his soap, sharp and fresh and sexy. “Can we go over the review? I still didn’t get half the problems even when the professor went over them.”

           “Of course.”

           His phone buzzes. Without meaning to, you look over in time to see the text: “Good luck with your pretty tutor 😉.”

           Jungkook snatches the phone and stuffs it into his pocket. His ears are red and he ducks his head further into his bag. “Sorry. Taehyung just-… Sorry. He just likes teasing me.”

           You look down at your lap and shuffle your papers to find your packet and hide your own pink cheeks. “He’s your roommate who works here?”

           “Yeah. Got it.” Jungkook drops his bag on the floor so he can take its place beside you and open his book to the chapter. Glancing between the page and his paper, his eyes get bigger with a mixture of revulsion and utter confusion. He tries to smile when he turns to you and says, “So… polynomial functions…”

           “Yeah. Exciting stuff.” You smile back to try to put him at ease in case he doesn’t catch the sarcasm. “Which problem do you want to start with?”

           “Number three?”

           “Okay. So, we have to sketch the graph for f(x) = x3- x2 – 9x + 9. Can I see what you did?”

           He shifts his book so you can see as you move closer. Your shoulder brushes his. Jungkook tenses so you casually lean forward so you’re not touching anymore. A quick sniff proves you only smell like work. Maybe he doesn’t like coffee. His paper quickly distracts you from wondering though.

           To say it is a mess would be generous. Frustrated pink from an eraser streaks under crammed calculations and scrubbed out mistakes. You can barely make out the final work. At least you know whatever problem Jungkook has isn’t from lack of trying.

           “Why don’t we start fresh?” You tear out two pieces of paper and hand one to him. He murmurs his thanks as you balance your book on your knee closest to him. You write larger than normal so he can follow more easily. “We have our equation, so what’s our next step?”

           “We have to factor it to find the zeros,” Jungkook sounds confident, but the unsure peek he gives you shows otherwise.

           “Right.” Again, you smile to encourage him. “To do that, we need to group the terms. For this problem, that means essentially splitting it into x3- x2 and - 9x + 9. From there, we can factor out x2 from x3- x2, so we get x2 (x-1). Still with me?”

           “Yes.”

           “Good. Then we move on to the second part of the equation. What common factors does it have?

           “Nine, so we’d get 9(x+1).”

           “But what about the negative sign in front of 9x?”

           Jungkook’s head jerks up from his work. His teeth marks are embedded in his pencil’s eraser like an anxious rabbit’s. “What negative sign?”

           Pointing at his paper, you explain, “It’s from the original function. The subtraction sign in x3- x2 – 9x + 9 doesn’t just go away when we split the function to factor it. It goes with the 9 as a negative sign so when we factor, we should get -9(x-1). Otherwise, when we tried to reverse it, we’d get x3- x2 + 9x + 9. Always carry over the math sign. I think that’s what messed you up here. That and your end behaviors are reversed.”

           “But isn’t it when the degree is odd, the graph rises to the left, and when the leading coefficient positive, the graph falls to the right?”

           You shake your head and twirl a finger. “The opposite: odd degree means the left falls and positive coefficient means the right rises.”

           Jungkook sighs but erases his answer and adds a note to the side.

           “Wait.” Offering him your copied notes, you explain, “I made these for you. I take pretty good notes so… Anyway, I made a little chart there to show how the coefficients and degrees work. It’s easier for me to memorize them like that.”

           “Cool. Thanks.” He looks between your notes and his paper, his lower lip protruding in a barely discernable pout. With another sigh, he quietly says, “You must think I’m really stupid, not getting this simple stuff. If she actually let us use our calculators for this part, I’d be set, but without it, I’m screwed.”

           “I don’t think you’re stupid,” you reply earnestly. “A lot of people think you have to be good at math to be smart, but not everyone’s brains are wired that way. Sometimes it takes more work to understand math, especially higher math like this. It’s nothing to be ashamed of to not to get it the first few times.”

“You think so?” Jungkook asks, his shoulders straightening with hope.

“Yeah. Like one of my friends can order breakfast in four languages, but ask her to explain the chemistry that makes the meal and she’s silent. And you, you’re brilliant when you dance.”

           “Thanks.” His face breaks into a wide, genuine smile. It’s so mesmerizing you almost miss when he asks, “When have you seen me dance though?”

           “Sometimes I get out of my previous class early since it’s a lab so I get to catch the end of your class. I’ve seen you during some of the floor exercises,” you admit sheepishly.

           “You were the one standing with Namjoon yesterday after class, weren’t you?”

           “Yeah. We’re back buddies.” Before you can get more off track, you ask, “So, are we good with this one or do you want to go through it again?”

           Jungkook looks between your paper and his. “I think I’m okay. We can move on. Number five?”

           A pile of paper grows on the floor as you work through the rest of the pre-test. True to your earlier statement, Jungkook proves he’s not stupid. He asks lots of questions, his eyes flitting between your work, his own, and your notes. He just needs some individual attention. And maybe a bit more practice. At least you have another week before the test to help him.

           When you finish the last question, the two of you stretch, your arms accidentally hitting each other. You both laugh and you twist the other way while Jungkook picks up his phone.

           “Shit. It’s late.” Jungkook turns the screen so you can see it’s already past 12:30. A guilty frown is on his lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it’d take that long. Do you have to go to bed soon?”

           Waving away his concern, you reply, “Nah. I’m usually up until one or two anyway, but if you need to practice more, you don’t need to bother with me tonight. We do have math tomorrow slash this morning.”

           “But that wouldn’t be fair. You just spent an hour helping me.”

           “Really, Jungkook. It’s okay.” You start putting things away in your bag. He’s probably just saying that to be polite. “We can do it another night. Plus, you’ve already showered. If we dance, you might get sweaty again.”

           “It won’t hurt to take another one later.” He stands up, shaking out his legs. “We can do a short session so we can both get some sleep. We can make up the other thirty minutes another day. Deal?”

           The expectant look he gives you has you staring back. If you were completely honest, you had only mentioned him tutoring you in return as an out for his pride. When you suggested it, you expected this to go the same way most of your relationships do. You give without reservation. They take without consideration. End of story.

It doesn’t bother you anymore. You think of it as putting out good karma and hope it will come back around some day. Jungkook’s unexpected readiness to return the favor is… well, unexpected.

           “Hey, you awake?”

           “Spotting,” you blurt out, still floundering in your thoughts. Focusing, you repeat, “Spotting. I can’t spot to save my life. I always fall or go off course when I turn.” Trying to cover your over-long pause, you add, “Sorry, there’re just so many elements I haven’t mastered yet that I couldn’t decide what I wanted to work on first.”

           “You’re fine. Umm… okay, why don’t you try showing me what you do so I can watch?”

           “Okay.” You gesture to your jeans. “Do you think it’ll be okay in these? Professor Duncan gave us a lecture that lasted half the period when someone showed up in jeans.”

           Jungkook shrugs. “They are restrictive but since we’re not dancing long- Wait, hang on. I think I have a spare pair of pants in here.” He opens the cabinet beneath the stereo and rummages around, finally pulling out a pair of black sweatpants with a grin like he won the lottery. Tossing them at you, he says “You may have to roll up the legs, but these should work.”

           “Do you live here?” you joke.

           “Kinda. If I’m not sleeping or in class or the dining hall, I’m usually here. Well, sometimes I’m in my room for homework or-”

           “Or what?” you ask when he doesn’t continue and just looks embarrassed.

           “Nothing.”

           “Okay.” You shove what other things he could be doing in his room away. If he’s like any other college boy, it could be as innocent as seeing how many kernels of popcorn he can fit in his mouth. Or it could be the very opposite of innocent. You move towards the door before your mind can go there. “I’ll be right back.” Your words prove prophetic as you return in less than a minute. “Um, Jungkook.”

           He jumps, having been turned around to fiddle with the stereo. “Yeah?”

           “The locker rooms are all locked. Would you mind if I-…”

           “Oh.” Jungkook’s eyes get bigger and you catch him scanning your body before he realizes he’s doing it. He quickly shifts his eyes to the ground. “Oh. Right. I- I’ll- I’ll just go out in the hall. So you can change.” He escapes out the door like a ghost.

           For the second time tonight, you’re staring. Even after just an hour with him, you can tell Jungkook’s got everything a person could want: cute bunny smile, more artistic talent than you could drum up in a lifetime, good manners. Yet the instant he remembers you’re of the opposite sex, he turns into a blushing kid. It’s as endearing as it is baffling.

You rush to change into his sweatpants, almost stumbling, and strip to the tank top you wear under your work shirt. “It’s safe,” you call as soon as the pants are secure around your waist.

Jungkook’s ears are still a little red when he comes back into the room. It calls attention to multiple piercings rimming the cartilage that you hadn’t noticed before.

“Do you want to work with music on or not?” he asks, one hand already on the stereo.

You hurriedly nod. “I like it.” You’ll be self-conscious enough having him totally focused on you. The music will give you something else to think about.

“Cool. Tell me if you want something else. I’ve got my iPod.”

The song that comes out the speakers is familiar and one of your favorites. “This is good. I like Charlie Puth.”

He grins back at you “Me too.”

Letting out a breath, you ask, “So, should I just… start?”

“Try five turns. Don’t try to go fast.”

You move to the center of the room and determinedly fix your sight on your reflection’s eyes. You ignore the broader, taller reflection that is Jungkook. It takes a few beats to position your feet correctly. With another deep breath, you bend your knees and push off.

After your fifth turn, you want to just sink into the ground. Although you try your best, you still wobble in the middle of each spin. Your head snaps around either too fast or too slow, losing your spot in the process.

“Just say it. I’m awful,” you sigh. You don’t bother turning around to look at Jungkook.

“No. I’ve seen worse.” He comes beside you and smiles when you meet his gaze in the mirror. “I had a friend back in elementary school who busted his nose on the mirror because he wanted to spin as fast as a Power Ranger. Blood everywhere, tons of little kids screaming.”

You burst out laughing, forgetting your humiliation. “Really?”

“Yeah. He quit the next week.”

“Poor kid.”

“At least you didn’t do that.” In a more serious tone, he adds, “You need to keep your back straighter. You tilt when you turn so that’s throwing you off balance. Wait, not like that.” Jungkook’s hands reach towards your shoulders, but stop just before they touch you. He looks at you in the mirror and asks uncertainly, “Is it alright if I touch you?”

           Thankfully your face is already red from embarrassment so the tint of your bashfulness at his question is hidden. “Yes.”

           Jungkook gently presses down on your shoulders, forcing them to relax. Simultaneously, he lifts your chin a little. “Lengthen your neck. Keep your chin, eyes, and shoulders level. They need to be strong to keep you from tilting but not tense or your next move won’t be as fluid.”

           “Okay.”

           “And let’s not try not spinning.”

           “But that’s the entire point of spotting.”

           “We’ll work back up to that. Just try small steps. It’s like the slower version of a turn. Once you master that, turning will get easier.”

           “You’re the boss.”

           As you adjust your feet again, Jungkook snaps his fingers. “Hang on, this might help.” He digs in his bag again and produces a small sheet of plastic. Peeling off a sticker, he slaps the Bulbasaur in the middle of the mirror and grins at his genius. “Use this as your spot.”

           “Gotta catch ‘em all,” you giggle.

           Jungkook is a strict but never harsh instructor, making you repeat a single turn a dozen times until your body is exactly positioned. Sometimes he tells you what adjustments to make, but other times he makes them himself, always asking permission. By the time one o’clock rolls around, you can make three out of five turns without looking like a drunken top. You’re still not turning fast, but it’s definitely an improvement and more than you expected to achieve.

           “You did good,” Jungkook praises when you both start gathering up your things.            “Thanks,” you reply, giving him a belated high-five. “I think you’ll be ready for the test next week with a few more sessions too.”

           “Really?”

           “Yeah. It’s just a matter of getting your rules straight.”

           “Thanks.” He pauses when you take out your water bottle and take a swig. “Um, is all that supposed to be there?”

           Chuckling, you nod. “It’s just cucumber and lemon slices. They give it a little extra something. Want to try?”

           Jungkook waves his hand when you offer the bottle. “I’m good. Thanks though. By the way…”

           “Hm?”

            “Can I walk you back to your dorm?” he asks. His eyes are on his shoes as he continues, “I know there’re those blue light stands, but… it’s still kind of dangerous since it’s so late.”

           You busy yourself with getting into your bookbag straps so he can’t see how touched you are at his offer. “Actually, we live in the same building. I’m a few floors up from you.”

           “Oh. I guess that works out then.”

           Jungkook turns out the light behind you as you leave the studio. Neither of you speak as you climb the stairs out of the building and start across campus. You build up your courage to start asking him questions about his other classes about two minutes in. A safe topic. He gives short answers at first, but in the time it takes to reach your dorm, you’re laughing and griping about different professors like old friends instead of new ones.

           “Seriously though, who in their right mind wants to be thinking about math at the ungodly hour of eight am? Even if that’s your job,” Jungkook complains as you reach his floor. “You make your own schedule. Why not noon when everyone’s brain is awake?”            “Professor Irwin’s a bit odd,” you agree. “Well, here’s where I leave you. Same drill tomorrow night?”

           “Sure.”

           “Cool. Good night, Jungkook.”

           “Night.”

           Jungkook waves and disappears into the hall, leaving you alone on the stairwell. You feel a smile on your lips as you continue on the stairs to your own room. Friends aren’t something you make easily, but you think you’re already on your way to being good ones with Jungkook. It shoots a warm feeling inside your heart and for the first time, you actually look forward to math class. The last line of ‘Casablanca’ comes to mind: “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

[utopia-game]

END OF AGE: Our Winners from Age 86: Global Viction

This is our end age article covering our winners in the following categories: Networth / Land / Honour / War Win Crown. For the age, fairly cut and dry as we have two kingdoms that covered all categories: Emeriti won the networth and land crowns Barcoloco won the honour and war win crowns I caught up with both kingdoms to ask them about their age and to dig into some of the events that were important and played their part in coming out on top for their respective areas. EMERITI Dorje made himself available to talk to me about Emeriti's age: Mad_Scottish: Hi Dorje, age 86 Global Viction is over and Emeriti have come out on top for the land and networth crowns. Was growth and having a run for #1 the goal set for the age? Dorje: Sure. We wanted to war some, then grow. Mad_Scottish: Normally you would think that warring first would stunt growth while those focused purely on growth could get ahead. Was that a concern that you had at all? Dorje: Growth is always a crap-shoot, because you start with a lot of pool and so long as you are in war you will grow in pool without bound. Normally whoever gets wars is going to be able to double size in postwar and always end up bigger than the province that is OOW. The downside of warring is you cannot get large and strong TMs or cows, which you can do with pool aiding OOW. Mad_Scottish: That's a really good point that I totally missed with the mechanics! I believe you had 3 wars in total, were these back to back or did they end up a bit spread out? Dorge: Essentially back to back, yes. In protection we had a war arranged with what later turned out to be ascension, but as they were all undead war heroes we decided that was a suicide move. expected them to wave us but they instead kept relations open so they could put up cows. Then we lucked into a first war by waving a war-tier kingdom, and arranged a second and third war before dumping pool. The way the game works, if you have complete protection in postwar you can almost always simply dump to like 15% bigger than the next biggest kingdom, and then bully them to ensure a win. Mad_Scottish: Was the success of growth linked purely to the work during the end of war CFs? What was the plan out of war, planned waves/randoms? Dorje: Planned waves. Randoms don't exist. Mad_Scottish: Were there any points in the age that were turning points/really helped out with growth beyond the wars and end of war CFs? Dorje: We waved down on several kingdoms after our last war, so that helped with growth. however two kingdoms began giving us 3 meter a day of plunders/robs, so we could never really stock money as you would normally do in a position when ahead waiting for others to catch up. at one point Ronin did a plunder wave and we accidentally gave them ops so they FG'd 700M GC. having our small provinces always broke certainly made growth hard for most of the age. Mad_Scottish: Things were getting really hairy towards the end with #2 for nw/land and then the war with Barcoloco happened. What was going on there? What was going on at the top politically? Dorje: After they waved us, we EoA cease-fired Ronin. But SWEA would not stop robbing, or ceasefire us so that we could fight Barco and of course Barco did the same play of exploring to 15% bigger, so all the gold would be needed for a fair fight. The assumption that Barco and SWEA are friendly made this look even dumber, and SWEA had also out of nowhere told us earlier in the age they might wave into our war prep later. So we did not give Barco the full 97 hours of free pump, and waved into their postwar. After that things went down as one might expect: SWEA did wave into our war prep, we had 7 broke provinces for the fight with Barco, but we pulled out land and networth in what turned out to be a pretty even fight. Mad_Scottish: If i remember correctly, there looked to be almost a 20k jump in acres. Is that accurate? I want to say I think I remember you being around 156k before the war with Barco Dorje: My numbers may be imprecise. I think we were around 160k with 10k pool, and Barco explored 105->180k in postwar or something. So we dumped pool, waved, they ended up re-dumping even more pool with the 5 day ceasefire so were around 160k. Then SWEA waved us for 15k or something so we were within ~500 acres when the 5-day ceasefire ended. Mad_Scottish: Did the war with Barco end or did it just run through the end of the age? Dorje: Ran through EoA. I believe it was around 40 hours Mad_Scottish: Any other highlights from the age that made things interesting or just come to mind? Dorje: From a utopia perspective, it was a uniquely boring age. Nobody was competing except for Ascension, who went inactive halfway through the age, and Barco who was staying tiny to ghetto farm. The highlight I suppose would be the Black Lives Matter movement, which a lot of kingdoms renamed to support. Mad_Scottish: Any shout outs for the age? effort from the kingdom/particular players? and any closing comments from you? Dorje: Shout out to everyone in the kingdom: grant, nimtar, arpi, juicebox, unos, universe, hengz, binar, chad, allanon, sjippe, dumnorix, peetah, carber, retard, jalgir, jcdb4, kax0, chris_keeling, tox, octobrev, megafusion, lagski, jorosar, and Nuck. And a shout out to everyone who believes black lives matter. BARCOLOCO Maugrim made himself available to talk about Barco's age: Mad_Scottish: Age 86, Global Viction has wrapped up. Barco has come out on top for war wins and honor. What was your final war number and number of war wins? Maugrim: Oh jeez, I can't even remember the war score anyway. We ended with 5 war wins out of 6 wars, and we were in a war with Emeriti when the age ended, but that obviously doesn't count towards anything, I think. Mad_Scottish: How did the wars work out over the age? Were you able to plan all wars or did we have some good old waves and declarations? Maugrim: I'm probably the worst person to ask these things. I know the last three wars were arranged for sure and we had start dates and stuff. I think the first OOP war we lost was too, but maybe the 2nd was from waving, I can't recall exactly. We sat OOW a little longer than we would like to on some occasions. But that can be timing and a bunch of different things. Overall, I think it was pretty smooth Mad_Scottish: You pipped Hipmunks to the honour crown. Do you think the setup helped hold on to honor? Maugrim: For sure, we had a few extended wars too which let us float more upwards. Mad_Scottish: I should have taken a screenshot of the kingdom page before the age resets. Were the T/Ms able to stay out of range and hold onto the honour or was there more of an even spread across the kingdom? Maugrim: Most of the honour was definitely on the TM provs, we had a few big avians who managed to hold some, but that honour is always fairly fluid. The TM did most of the honour carrying and it's a lot more protected there Mad_Scottish: Was there a particular war where you grabbed most of the honor or fairly spread out across each of the wars? Maugrim: Our war vs the hitch hikers guide kingdom, 7:11??? I want to say, it lasted maybe 4 days and that one really let us pack on some big honour stacks. They had quite a bit of honour themselves, and just the extended nature of the war let us take a lot more than one might be normally able to. Mad_Scottish: Between wars, were you waving or was it a case of sit and pump to get ready for the next war? Maugrim: No, we waved a few times. That garbage 5:11 kingdom Fluffy? We waved them. We're often forced to wave, and it's fun that way. Excited for this age and waving all the time! Mad_Scottish: Any real stands outs for the age that come to mind for you? Anyone that you want to give a shout out to? Maugrim: It was a fun age with some good ol' fashioned drama. Looking forward to this age though! Shout out to everyone in Barco Mad_Scottish: End of age got very interesting with the moving pieces related to the war with Emeriti. We received the version from them, what is your version? Maugrim: After we beat Hipmunks, we were faced with a choice many have faced in the past while sitting in the shadow of Emeriti at second place: be content with second best, or try to win it all? The odds were decidedly NOT in our favor: we were less than 50% of Emeriti’s size, Emeriti had *billions* of gc, and they had sat on the throne of the number one spot for *weeks*, with nothing to do other than to pump GC, WPA, sci, whatever the heck they wanted. They even tagged up after their second war win, confident they had secured the age. Keeping with our fighting tradition, we went for it all. For 48 ticks into our EOWCF, we did nothing but send aid and hit explore on our provs. Each prov was absolutely dry- no GC, no soldiers, no WPA, nothing. And Emeriti could see this, because they intell'd us each tick. Nothing but empty acres. How could Emeriti possibly be scared? So what did Emeriti do? Trad and raze into our EOWCF like a bunch of cowards. The only explanation was their PTSD from the last time they literally handed us their crowns after we dumped our entire pool, Emeriti accused us of cheating, DavidC confirmed we hadn’t, and then proceeded to farm out to us to the tune of 22,000 acres. Emeriti’s pathetic excuse for their cowardly actions? They couldn’t get a CF with wee little SWEA to protect their 2.5 billion GC. Odd—seeing how Emeriti still had 1.15 billion GC after training at the start of our war (10x more than us) . . . After being completely stunned by Emeriti’s actions, we fortunately found out that we could force CF because we were decidedly *well* out of NW war range. What we *didn’t* know was there was a known bug that had prevented Hipmunks from crowning just the age before, that sat unfixed for an *entire* age. Until now. When it was Emeriti—and not Hipmunks—running with its tail between its legs to DavidC, he immediately fixed the bug within half an hour. The cherry on top was DavidC’s audacity to send a snarky, patronizing in mail to each of our LS, “thanking” him for helping find this bug. As if he hadn’t known about it for an entire age, but couldn’t care less until now that it was affecting his golden child. Everyone thought we had given up by that point, having been beat down by both Emeriti and DavidC. But we made the impossible choice to kill 4 provinces—Adi, Bry, Powwow, Rageman (they deserve shout outs)--that had worked hard the entire age in order to get our kingdom out of land war range—our last hope at fighting Emeriti. Dorje claims it was a fair fight. Frankly, that’s the only way Emeriti can sleep at night. But the fact of the matter was that it was a 25 v 21 province fight, Emeriti still had a +1 billion GC lead, and they had literally 3/4 of the age to pump sci/wpa against a kingdom that Emeriti could not even stand to let grow peacefully from 70k to 150k acres in 2-3 days. Emeriti’s decision to hit into another KD’s EOWCF was an act of cowardice. They knew it and everyone knew it. Dorje even had an explanatory speech ready at his fingertips to post in Discord within *minutes* in an attempt to justify his actions. They’ve established a precedent that, if ignored, will ultimately result in the demise of this game: (1) there is no code of honour or conduct in this game, i.e. anything goes; (2) developers, particularly DavidC, are biased towards certain players and kingdoms that will result in age-changing bug fixes for some and not others. **End of Article** Journalist note: Congratulation to your crown winners. Best of luck in the new age! HERE WE GO!