#or when it's your turn to defend your thesis in front of people much better and much more experienced than you?

[love-we-write]

Oh woww thanks to @/hacked-by-jake I came across your account and discovered you've written a soulmate au! I'm a sucker for this au and I can't wait to read it when I need a breather 💮 have a great day!

I meaannn.... Compared to some of your amazing works I've read, my writing is still so mediocre and I'm becoming more aware of the possible mistakes or instances where I might drone a little bit too much and made the story draggy, so much so that I'm internally sweating lmao.

^ an accurate representation of my inner state of being

Anyway, I live for a good soulmate!AU too, so if anything, thank you for wanting to give my story a read!😌😌

I hope you'll enjoy it and I hope you have an amazing day too~! 💙💜💙💜

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: Anakin time travels back to Dooku’s Padawan days and doesn’t know how to deal with the infuriating bastard. AN: I blame my discord. Read on AO3

Anakin tried to think of what words of wisdom Obi-Wan would bestow upon him. Probably something about patience and following the Force and how to not consequently fuck up the next sixty years of history, but Obi-Wan also never had to deal with a young Padawan Dooku eyeing him critically, like he was trying to figure out what made Anakin tick.

Anakin was kind of torn between wanting to rip his throat or... something else Anakin didn’t quite know how to define. Whatever it was, it wasn’t fair. Dooku was the Sith Lord who had cut off his arm, get a grip Anakin.

Except this Dooku really wasn’t. He was just Yoda’s Padawan, even if likely not for much longer given that Anakin’s only friend in this timeline, Initiate Qui-Gon Jinn was already ten years old. Yes, Anakin knew that it was a little pathetic that his best and only friend was a child half his size – Anakin had hardly recognized him when he’d first stumbled upon Qui-Gon. The boy was so small, it was bizarre. But it wasn’t like Anakin had many people he could interact with as long as he wasn’t totally caught up on the Republic’s current history. Master Yoda had strictly forbidden Anakin from revealing anything about the future to any member of the Jedi Order who was not on the Council.

Or Padawan Dooku, in whose lap Anakin had literally dropped when Darth Tyrannus’ weird Sith magic had torn Anakin from his own time, stranding him permanently in the past.

Sighing, Anakin attempted to ignore Dooku staring at him intensely. It was bad enough that he had private tutoring with the younger man – okay, it was just a couple months, but Anakin privately liked to hold it over his head – now he also followed Anakin just about everywhere but the fresher.

He fell back into the first position of Djem So. He couldn’t let his lightsaber skills get rusty just because he wasn’t fighting in a galactic war anymore. That was another thing that unsettled Anakin. No more sleeping in his tiny cabin on the Resolute, no more cramming Ahsoka’s mandatory lessons into the few breaks they had, no more droid armies, no more Separatists, no more Sith Lords.

Well, the latter two weren’t entirely true. The Senate had been broken long before Anakin had been born. Now that he paid attention to it, he could already see many of the issues that would cause it to split. He just hoped that the Council and him could do something against it. It was too bad the Chancellor wasn’t in office already. He was probably just a little kid right now, even younger than Anakin and the current Chancellor was by far not as charismatic as Palpatine had been.

He certainly was of no interest to the Sith either, no matter where they were hiding right now. Anakin had never managed to figure out the identity of Tyrannus’ Master and the baby Sith currently still checking him out definitely couldn’t tell him.

“Can I help you somehow?” Anakin asked, hoping he managed to keep all annoyance out of his voice.

He dropped out of his stance and turned to Dooku. The Padawan was sitting on one of the benches, working on a paper or another, maybe his final thesis. Anakin had never had to write one to become a Knight. For one, there was no time during the war, and on the other hand, he had already done that when he was fourteen and gotten really passionate about Nubian hyperdrives.

“No, not at all. I merely admire your execution of Form IV. You are very well practiced.”

Dooku sounded honest enough, but Anakin still felt like it was a backhanded compliment.

“Thanks,” Anakin replied. “Was that everything?”

Dooku raised a brow, the perfect picture of innocence, but Anakin knew better. He had fought a far more experienced version of the man in front of him and learned to call his bluffs. This Dooku was not really a threat. He was just there, constantly in the corner of Anakin’s vision and being a Force-damned distraction.

“I’m not the one asking questions here.”

No, but if he was there any longer, Anakin was going to shut him up in some other way.

“Just- get over here. You can go study in your room or whatever, no need to be in the training halls at three in the morning unless you want to spar.”

Dooku grinned cockily and got up from his seat, his lightsaber already in hand. It looked very different from the blade Anakin remembered defending against. Its blue color still startled him as well, but somehow it suited this young Dooku. He stepped onto the mats and Anakin resumed a position opposite to his opponent. They both bowed as it was tradition, then ignited their lightsabers. For a moment neither moved, then they both jumped into the battle. Dooku’s Ataru still caught Anakin off-guard, but his Makashi less so. He wasn’t a proficient Master of Form II yet, but that one at least Anakin was more than familiar with. The two of them exchanged blows with more Force than strictly necessary for a training spar, bringing emotions into it that should not be there. Anakin was pissed off because Dooku wouldn’t leave him alone, but he had no idea what he had done to cause Dooku to fight so viciously.

Then Anakin finally saw an opening and took it. He slammed is leg into the back of Dooku’s knee, causing him to stumble. With another Force-push, Anakin made him fall flat on his back. He rushed towards his opponent and held his blade to his neck.

“Yield,” Anakin ordered, but Dooku did not, at least not immediately.

Instead he was once more studying Anakin like he could see a possible weakness.

“Yield,” Anakin said again and finally Dooku replied with a “Solah.”

Anakin turned off his ‘saber and he should get up, step away from his defeated training partner, but for some reason he couldn’t get himself to do so, looking into Dooku’s troubled brown eyes.

“What is your kriffing problem with me?” Anakin finally asked, Dooku still pinned beneath him.

Apparently, that was all it took as for once the Padawan didn’t keep his thoughts hidden behind a mask of feigned politeness and sarcasm.

“My problem with you, Skywalker, is that you are poaching my future Padawan!”

Anakin blinked. Dooku must be joking. All the backhand comments and the challenges and it was for this?

“I’m not trying to steal Qui-Gon from you, you git!”

Dooku didn’t try to get up, but he did cross his arms in defiance.

“That’s not what it looks like from here, offering him extra tutoring and spending every free minute with him-“

“Who else am I supposed to talk to?” Anakin snarled. “I’m stuck here! My Master won’t even be born for another thirty years, my Padawan for another twenty and my-“

Anakin closed up. He shouldn’t think about them, all he had lost. He’d been doing so well but of course Darth Tyrannus in the making had to goad him. “All my friends, my family, are gone and if I ever see them again, they won’t be mine. I only know a handful of people in this time and Qui-Gon just happens to be one of them!”

Honestly, it was almost a little embarrassing to admit, but once Anakin had realized who the short blond Initiate was, he had almost started crying. The rooms in the Temple were still the same, as were the robes and the traditions and the lessons, but it wasn’t his home. All his people were gone and the Jedi that lived during these times were mostly strangers, a few long-lived ones such as Master Yoda being the exception. But they weren’t exactly people Anakin had been close with.

“You knew him in the future,” Dooku said slowly.

He didn’t look frustrated anymore, more interested suddenly as if he were seeing Anakin with new eyes.

Anakin nodded once, sharply. “He saved my life.”

“He’ll be a great Jedi then,” Dooku concluded, sounding utterly pleased.

“The very best,” Anakin confirmed.

Dooku then began to smile in earnest, kind and happy in a way Anakin had never seen before, hadn’t thought him capable of, to be honest. The whole thing threw Anakin off completely. Seriously, what was going on with this Dooku?

“What of his Master?”

He became a Sith Lord and joined the people that had killed his apprentice and then continued trying to kill his grand-Padawans, but no big deal.

“He’s a git,” Anakin said instead. “Super arrogant, terrible footwork, can’t even block a simple kick.”

Dooku snorted. “At least he’s not as bad as his sparring partner?”

“What?”

“Careless,” Dooku replied and tugged at Anakin’s collar, pulling him down.

It took Anakin perhaps a moment too long to realize that Dooku was kissing him, but he considered it fair given that just moments before the other had been attempting to beat the life out of him. The kiss was by no means spectacular, but Dooku was warm beneath Anakin’s hands and when they broke apart for air, Anakin had no troubles diving in for a second kiss, all rationality thrown out of the speeder as he pushed his tongue inside Dooku’s mouth and hurried to get his hands beneath the other’s robes.

“Not a word to anybody,” Dooku said as flipped them around, stripping Anakin out of his tabard.

Anakin only rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

He could deal with the fallout of this once he had his rationality back and was not, in fact, about to let Padawan Dooku fuck him. That was a problem for tomorrow-Anakin, right-now-Anakin was a little busy taking off his clothes.

[childoftimeandmagic]

Got Our Whole Lives

I really should be working on my Practical Magic!Klaroline fic, but this was tumbling, rumbling and rolling around in my brain instead. 

Merthur fic for @kickassfu because she’s amazing and I love her. 

You can also read it here AO3. 

           “Are you sure that Merlin’s working till seven tonight?” Arthur asked, for the twelfth time that afternoon as he sat in Gwen’s living room as Morgana walked back in with two mugs of tea one for her and one for Gwen.

           Gwen took the mug from Morgana and shifted on the loveseat so that Morgana could sit with her before focusing on Arthur who was frantically typing into his laptop as he organized a surprise trip for him and Merlin’s second anniversary. “Yes Arthur, your boyfriend who you talk to everyday at least 12 of the 24 hours will be off work at seven alright?”

           Arthur flipped her off and focused on reserving the caravan from the company he’d found online as well as the tram tickets to Normandy. He had asked Merlin to request the 17th to the 25th of June off so that they could finally take a proper holiday together. Merlin had stared at him eyeing him suspiciously as he called his boss to put in for the requested dates. Thankfully, his boyfriend hadn’t asked him what they were doing. Proclaiming that if they were going on a holiday then Arthur was planning it as Merlin was going to be finishing his Masters thesis in early June and honestly couldn’t be arsed to also plan a posh vacation up to Arthur’s aristocratic standards.

           “We’re going to be caravanning?” Merlin’s voice broke through his concentration as he was going through the plan one more time. Slamming his laptop closed he looked up at Merlin who was standing just inside the living room looking down at him like he’d lost his marbles.

           “What are you doing here you aren’t supposed to be here till half past seven,” he hissed, his face flushing as Merlin sat down on the floor next to him and gently handed him his phone which had two missed calls and five unanswered texts. It was also telling him that it was ten to eight – oh.

           “You didn’t answer what you wanted to get for dinner and then Gwen sent me a text saying that she couldn’t ravage your sister with you in the flat,” Merlin said softly, his eyes looking at Arthur with that love and adoration that sometimes made Arthur feel stunted.

           “Right we should head off,” he said standing up stiffly and pulling his laptop bag over to his side shoving the offending instrument into the finished leather.

           “Arthur are you okay?” Merlin asked, they were halfway back to the flat that they shared close enough to the university and Merlin’s café job, that Arthur didn’t mind taking the extra underground line to his job in City Centre.

           “Huh, oh yea,” he said, squeezing Merlin’s hand in his and pulling him in for a chaste kiss. “Better now though.”

           “Right but you know me joking that you had to plan our first holiday wasn’t an effort for you to keep it a secret,” he said, cupping Arthur’s cheek with his free hand.

           “I know but I want it to be a surprise,” Arthur said, as they passed the Indian take-away place a block before the apartment. “We’re eating Indian for dinner.”

           Merlin laughed as his boyfriend changed the subject from what their holiday plans were to what their most pressing plans were, frankly if they had Indian take-away for dinner every night, Merlin thought Arthur would be happiest. Following him into the shop he smiled as Arthur ordered one of every appetizer before ordering Merlin’s Lamb Saagwala and his own Chicken Biryani both moderately spicy for two white boys from the countryside and wrapping the order up with an obscene number of naan.

           “You know I don’t get paid till Friday right,” Merlin whispered, into Arthur’s ear when Arthur had paid and walked over to stand next to where Merlin was sitting on a stool by the window.

           “I know it’s my treat,” Arthur said, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s waist pressing a kiss to his cheek and hiding his face against Merlin’s neck.

           “Are you sure you’re alright?” Merlin asked, rubbing his hands across Arthur’s back.

           “I’m fine just want you to have the best holiday ever,” Arthur whispered, placing a kiss to Merlin’s pulse point.

           “Okay, but we could hide in the flat and not go anywhere for a week and it would be the best vacation ever,” Merlin said, leaning into Arthur’s rare showing of public affection.

           “Right, but you’ve never gone on a holiday outside the country, and I want your first one to be with me,” Arthur said, squeezing Merlin tighter in his arms.

           “Alright, but can you at least tell me if we’re doing a roadtrip or a resort,” Merlin teased, running his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair it was growing longer than he normally let it get. Merlin was selfishly happy that Arthur had let his hair grow out slightly.

           “Fine you twat, we’re gonna roadtrip for a week,” Arthur relented, pulling back to look at Merlin eyes searching for any sign of disappointment or reluctance to the plan. All he saw was admiration and love.

           “Sounds amazing, I’m not sure I could have handled a posh resort where you and your cronies hang around when not at Parliament to talk about defrauding the everyday people of more social services,” Merlin said, completely straight faced while Arthur winced and pulled away.

           “I can not believe that you just tried to tie me to my late father’s political party,” Arthur gasped, hand on chest.

           “I know you’re the good party who only does marginally better for the people,” Merlin said, pulling Arthur back into his arms grinning like a loon.

           “You are a twat,” Arthur said, trying not to give into Merlin’s teasing.

           “Well it’s better than being a Clotpole,” Merlin said, kissing Arthur’s cheek before pushing him back towards the counter as they called out his name.

           Arthur laughed as he walked back to his boyfriend who had unfolded himself from the stool to stand by the door. Waving to the employees and wishing them a good night Arthur and Merlin walked out into the night towards home.

              Finished, it was done and he didn’t need to be back in the Politics and International Relation Hall until the first week of July to defend his thesis to the faculty panel. Rolling over he frowned, it was Saturday and Arthur didn’t work on Saturdays. So why was he missing from their bed? Merlin got up grabbing one of Arthur’s rugby shirts from the top of the wardrobe and walked out of the bedroom to find Arthur sitting at his laptop frowning in the kitchen.

           “Who died?” he asked, walking closer to rub Arthurs shoulders.

           “Huh – oh we got upgraded,” Arthur said, reaching up to tangle his fingers with Merlin’s against his left shoulder.

           “Why does that have you looking like you just got a call about someone dying,” Merlin pressed, his thumb rubbing against Arthur’s hand.

           “It’s just uh bigger than I was expecting,” he said, showing Merlin the large caravan.

           “That’s like a proper lorry,” Merlin commented looking at the specs before looking at Arthur.

           “Well can we go back to the original mini camper?” Merlin asked, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

           “Yea, but it won’t be ready till tomorrow,” Arthur said, sighing as he turned and buried his face in Merlin’s middle wrapping his arms around his boyfriend.

           “Okay so we leave on the train first thing in the morning tomorrow for Calais,” Merlin reasoned out, rubbing circles on Arthur’s shoulders.

           “You don’t mind not starting your freedom from the city right away?” Arthur repeated after Merlin nudged him for mumbling into his torso.

           “Nope, because I think that we can find plenty to distract us right here,” Merlin said, raising his eyebrow and nodding back towards the bedroom he’d just left. “I’m not sure I feel properly loved.”

           Arthur barked out a laugh before standing up his hands gripping Merlin’s thin hips as he hoisted him up into his arms as Merlin laughed. While roughly the same height Merlin was definitely an inch taller, but he lacked the muscular physique of years of rugby and footie that Arthur had, and loved it when Arthur picked him up in his arms.

             “I can’t believe we’re going on a roadtrip across the north coast of France and you didn’t even plan one battleground or museum visit,” Merlin teased, he sat in the seat his legs across Arthur’s lap since it wasn’t a manual vehicle.

           “You just spent the last two months writing a thesis on the battles of the Normandy conquest. I made the executive decision that this would be nature parks, cafes, beach walks, and ocean spray not academics.” Arthur snapped, huffing as he passed a lorry on the left.

           “I love it, and appreciate that you put so much effort into this trip for me,” Merlin said, pulling his feet out of Arthur’s lap to lean over and kiss his cheek.

           “Uh huh, how long is my plan going to last?” Arthur asked, eyebrows raised shaking his head.

           “Probably till the first time we stop and I see a sign for a stuffy local museum,” Merlin admitted laughing when Arthur groaned.

           “Next time we go to a nice resort that has nude beaches and no museums near it,” Arthur grumbled, turning up the music playing through the sound system.

           “Fine I’ll stop teasing you with my obsession with wasting days away in stuffy museums,” Merlin said, carding his fingers through Arthur’s hair.

           “Twat.”

           “Dollop head.”

           “Are you ever going to tell me what that means?”

           “Nope.”

           Soon they devolved into Arthur driving and Merlin fiddling with the playlist on his phone until he found one he wanted, and leaned against the seat arm to kiss Arthur quickly before pulling away. Arthur laughed as Merlin folded his long limbs into a pretzel sit and leaned his head against the window eyes dropping already. Merlin always fell asleep if he wasn’t the one driving.

           Arthur smiled and relaxed as he followed the GPS directions to Camping des Dunes, a beach campground. It was rustic and relaxing.

           Pulling in he followed the directions to the beach front parking. It was crowded but not the levels that Gwaine and Percival had warned him about. Parking and pulling up the emergency brake he pressed a kiss to Merlin’s temple and turned his seat around to set up the bedding and open the back door so that they could sleep to the sounds of the ocean behind them. Once he’d done that he grabbed the small grill and bag of charcoal so that they could cook up the chicken kababs that they’d made up yesterday afternoon.

           “Are we there?” Merlin asked, turning to look out the side door at Arthur who was stoking the coals to get them hot. Rubbing his eyes, he looked around and smiled at Arthur who grinned back.

           “Go take a look around, I’m just heating up the coals and then I’ll find you okay?” Arthur asked, rubbing the small little box in his jean pocket.

           “I’m going to see what the amenities are like and then the beach I’ll be back in like ten minutes,” Merlin said, pulling Arthur close for a quick kiss which turned into a longer moment than he planned. “I can’t leave here if you don’t let me go.”

           “I don’t want to let you go,” Arthur mumbled, tightening his grip around Merlin’s middle before releasing him.

           “I’ll be back soon,” Merlin said, walking off to explore.

             Once the coals were adequately hot, he covered the grill and started off to look for Merlin. As Arthur walked over to the beach which was just around the hedge he’d parked next too. Walking on the sand his sandals in his hand. Looking for his boyfriend, he admired the sun glinting off the waves and the sand. Merlin was sitting on the top of the dune staring out at the waves.

           “Hey Emrys, you get lost in your head,” he asked, sitting next to his partner.

           “Sorry I was sitting in the sun and it felt so good. Can we have dinner after the sun sets?” Merlin said, leaning against Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur shifted so that his chest was against Merlin’s back. Arthur chuckled and settled back into the dune, pulling Merlin into his arms holding him tight.

           “It’s beautiful here,” Merlin murmured, trailing his fingers up and down Arthur’s legs as he relaxed into Arthur’s hold.

           “I’m glad you find it so beautiful,” Arthur said, shifting so that he could rest his chin on Merlin’s shoulder. “I have a question for you dearheart.”

           “What’s going on darling,” Merlin asked, shifting so he could look at Arthur. Pulling away and looking at his boyfriend Merlin searched his face for a hint at what was on Arthur’s mind.

           “So we’ve been dating for the last three years and living together for two, and you’ve been with me for some of the hardest moments in my life,” Arthur started taking a deep breath and reaching out to hold Merlin’s hand in his. “You helped me come out to my Father, you helped me reconcile my grief with my anger after he died. When I think about the future and where I want to be in it, Merlin you’re right by my side. I don’t – no I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

           Merlin took the pause that Arthur inadvertently took a breath to hold up his hand. “I need you to hold that thought because if you’re doing what I think you’re doing I need to grab something from my pack.”

           Arthur was sitting in the sand watching the love of his life run across the beach back to their caravan and then running back only tripping twice, thankfully not biting it and falling. When Merlin fell to his feet in front of him Arthur eyed the small green box in his hands before Arthur pulled out a small black box from his jeans. They looked at each other and promptly devolved into laughs holding onto each other.

           “Can I finish please?” Arthur asked, looking at Merlin eyes wide as he cupped his cheeks, rubbing his thumb across the stubble.

           “By all means you aristocratic poof,” Merlin teased, sneaking a kiss before pulling away to hold Arthur’s hands in his.

           “As I was saying – I was wondering if you’d do me the honor of making me the happiest lord in England and man on earth by marrying me?” Arthur asked, opening the box in his left hand to reveal a dark band with flecks of blues, golds, reds in the center of the band shifting in the sunlight.

           “I first would like to point out that I was hoping to ask you while you stargazed tonight, but I – I don’t want to wait. I’ll marry you if you’ll marry me?” Merlin said, grinning looking at his boyfriend as he opened the green box in his hand revealing an elegant and smooth gold band with a gentle engraving on the inside in sloping interconnected lines.

           “Nothing would make me happier,” Arthur said, taking Merlin’s left hand in his right while Merlin took Arthur’s left hand in his. Once they interchanged the rings, Arthur pulled Merlin into a gentle kiss. Resting his forehead against Merlin’s, Arthur smiled and stood up slowly.

           “We gotta go cook dinner, otherwise we won’t have any coals left to use,” Arthur said, taking Merlin back to the caravan. This road trip was going to be more amazing than they’d originally thought.

           “After dinner we have to call mum and tell her the good news,” Merlin said, intertwining their fingers. Arthur laughed and nodded as they separated to complete the required tasks.  

[dobrikdolanfan]

Make Time For Me - David Dobrik

Requested: Nope, this is one of the times where I just use my imagination. Warnings: swearing Authors Note: This is one of the first pieces I wrote! I haven’t proof read it so I apologise if there’s any spelling errors! You walked excitedly into David's, expecting to see him there on the couch, but instead finding only Natalie on the couch. You huffed in frustration, before stomping into his living room, and plopping down on the couch next to her. "Hey y/n" Natalie smiled at me, grabbing her purse. "Hey Nat, where's David?" You asked, rubbing your temples to relieve some of the stress you had from your long day. "He went with Jeff and Jason to shoot something for the vlog I think. Anyway I'm going out for the night but stay until he gets back" She smiled at you, heading over to the door. "Okay, thanks. Have fun tonight" You smiled back at her as she walked out the door. When she was gone, you rolled your eyes in annoyance and decided you'd get some extra school work done since you had your stuff with you while you waited from him to return from wherever the hell he was this time. You sent him a quick text, questioning his whereabouts, before digging into your textbook. Your phone buzzed in your lap and you saw David had replied, saying he'd forgot about you coming over, he was sorry and he'd be there in fifteen minutes. You sighed and threw your phone on the couch beside you, choosing to ignore your  irritating boyfriend. This was the fourth time this week that he had either cancelled on you, or forgotten/changed your plans. It was safe to say you were getting pretty fed up with him.

Around fifteen minutes later, the door swung open and David came in, dumping his Tesla keys on the side. "Baby, I am so sorry. I'm an idiot and completely forgot." He walked over to you, he leaned down to give you a kiss, but you turned your head to the side, letting his lips fall onto your cheek instead. He furrowed his eyebrows at you, but you chose to ignore him as you continued to type up your essay, "Everything okay baby?" David asked hesitantly.

"Mhm." You mumbled with a straight face. David sighed and rubbed his face with his hand briefly before running his hands through his messy hair, trying to think of what to say to make you forgive him.

"Y/N, I told you that I'm sorry." He slowly sat down next to you on the couch and softly placed his hand on your shoulder, but you shrugged him off. You slapped your laptop closed and looked at him with annoyance clear on your face. "I understand that you're upset, but I had to get some stuff for my video and I-" He started to make excuses, but you cut him off completely.

"I don't want your fucking excuses David!" You snapped, looking up from your laptop and placing it on the coffee table in front of you, your attention now turned back to David.  "This is the first time I've seen you properly in like two weeks. You can't fucking expect me to forgive you instantly and forget why I'm mad at you when you say sorry!" You stood up from the couch and paced around his living room while he just remained sat down, listening to you, "Do you not care about our relationship anymore?" Your voice broke a bit at the end, regretting what you said as you didn't want to hear the answer you were afraid to get. David's eyes went wide, and he rose from the couch and walked over to you, grabbing your hands.

"Of course I do!" He protested, gently squeezing your hands. You tugged your hands away from his and ran it through your hair in a frustrated manner.

"Then why haven't you been acting like it David?!" You argued, finally unleashing all of the anger and annoyance that had been bubbling up inside of you, "We were suppose to have a fun night on Saturday night, but you cancelled because you wanted to go to the club again to film. Then, you were suppose to come to mine for dinner on Wednesday night, but you forgot until Natalie reminded you and by the time you got to my place, I’d already eaten so you just went back out to meet Toddy and Zane. And tonight, do you even know what tonight's plan was?" You asked, raising your voice slightly as your eyes filling up but you blinked the tears away, determined not to cry in front of David. You could almost see the gears grinding in David's head as he tried to remember what we were supposed to be doing tonight. You scoffed at him with a slight eye roll.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I've just been doing so much for the vlogs lately and you know how forgetful I am!" He continued to try and defend himself, but you weren't tolerating any of his excuses. Not tonight anyway.

"Well, I'm sorry for expecting you to want to see your girlfriend at least once a week, especially on our anniversary. Considering you see your friends every fucking day David!" You felt like you could tear your hair out as you ran your fingers through it again.

"Well, you've been busy lately too!" He argued back, trying to turn the blame on you and you looked at him in disgust. "I'm just saying  you haven't been around much either." He crossed his arms over his chest and you felt like you could scream loudly at the level of frustration that was running through your veins and causing your blood to boil.

"I'm in fucking college David! My final exams are literally like next week, and I need to finish my fucking thesis statement in time for my graduation! Do you have any idea how stressed I am?" You raised your voice once again, letting out a loud frustrated sigh before continuing. "Me spending most of my time studying for my exams, is a different than you getting shooting people with a fucking paintball gun." You spat out. This offended David, as he always had an insecurity that you thought you were better than him because you were in college and on your way to getting a 'real' job.

"Oh, here we go again." He rolled his eyes at you and walked towards his kitchen, you followed closely behind him and watched angrily grab a bottle of water from the fridge. "What do you mean?" You questioned, lowering your voice slightly

"Y/n I'm sick of you being so damn high and mighty! I know you're busy with college and stuff, but my jobs important too, and you always dismiss it as if it's the easiest thing to do in the world." He took a gulp of water after finishing his sentence. You let out a bitter laugh before responding to his idiotic remark.

"Fine, so we're both busy. At least I always find time to fucking see you! You don't put any effort into our relationship anymore David. You don't even bother to make time for me. If I didn't make plans for us, I'd never see you!" You argued bitterly. David leaned on the kitchen counter, trying to think of what to say next.

"Well, maybe I'm tired of you yelling at me over everything I fucking do." He shrugged, tired of the argument and not caring about what he was saying at this point. You furrowed your eyebrows at his suddenly cold words. "It's all you've been doing lately, bitching at me. I say the wrong thing in vlog and you get mad at me. I spend too much time hanging out with my friends and you get mad at me. I'm late to meet you for another pointless dinner, and you get fucking mad at me! I can't win with you y/n!" He spat out his hateful words, you couldn't fight away the tears rising to your eyes.You felt your throat get tighter as the tears welled in your eyes because of how much anger you had built towards David. You bit your lip to stop the tears brimming in your eyes and looked at your boyfriend with hurt written all over your face.

"Well then, I'm sorry I get mad at you for caring about your stupid video and friends more than me, and I'm so fucking sorry that I'm pissed off that you still haven't realised tonight was out fucking one year anniversary dinner." You choked out as the tears finally escaped your eyes. David's eyes completely softened when the last sentence escaped your lips, as the memories of tonight's plans all rushed back into his mind. You angrily marched back towards the couch, slamming your laptop down and picking it up with your bag before heading to the door. "Y/n. Don't go. I’m sorry. I-" David called, his voice softer than before "save it David" You snapped, opening the door and turning to face him. "Just try to show more effort okay? It's like you don't even care anymore. I love you but I need to focus on my exams. I'll text you when they are over or something and maybe we can go out for our anniversary then, as long as you don't fucking forget or cancel on me like usual. " You remarked coldly before storming out of his house, ignoring his shuts of protest from the kitchen.

[lia-jones]

Growing Stronger - Chapter Two - Pulling Strings

People deal with breakups in the most different ways. I had a friend that was a hopeless romantic, and each breakup was, in her words, the loss of her soulmate. She would spend weeks in deep depression, unwavering on the fact that the love she lost was the only one for her, and no one else could fill his place. That is, of course, until she met someone else. She probably had had around fifteen soulmates by the time she got married. On the other hand, I had a friend that was the complete opposite. As soon as she broke up with the guy, he would become her enemy. She would hate him with the same intensity she loved him, and spend days trashing the guy, celebrating how she certainly dodged a bullet, as she counted every flaw she could find in him in-numerous times.

Obviously this would lead to an argument every time one of them ended a relationship. Their views on how to deal with heartbreak were just too different. But they could agree on one thing: there is no pain like the one we feel when we end a relationship. In fact, studies show that when we feel rejection, we use the same neural pathways that are usually used to experience physical pain. So much so that painkillers are proven to numb the feeling of rejection. Apparently, it is something deeply rooted in our very human fabric. When we were nothing more than gatherers/collectors, our survival depended on living in a tribe and continuing to procreate, so rejection was our brain’s red alert that we were actually in danger.

But guilt can be a lot more devastating. Guilt is triggered by our brain’s “accountant”, the ventromedial prefrontal cortex, and his function is to assess potential gains and losses in every aspect of our life. The very fact that we can’t make amends with the person we believe we hurt can change our brain function, increasing flight or fight responses, and decreasing activity in both hemispheres of our brain. Translating, we are prone to engage in dangerous behaviors, like drinking or using drugs, because we can only feel the pain and the fear. The rest of the brain just can’t “think straight”.

That lunch with Diane ripped off the band-aid that was holding my heart together, making it bleed profusely. But I was no longer feeling the painful rejection of a broken relationship. I was feeling guilt. Despite that very ugly fight we had, Victor was nothing but kind and loving to me. Yes, I could point out several things he did wrong, he did not trust me, he used some very ugly arguments, but overall, he was a good man. And I broke his heart. In the end, I was the one who slapped him, I was the one who walked away. Knowing this hurt way worse than knowing I would never have him in my life.

I had to focus on someone else to ease the feeling, so as usual, work was my method. I traveled as much as I could to visit potential partners, planned all my classes until the end of the semester, and, with the help of my fellow researchers, developed all the strategies to implement in each one of the partner companies. After a couple of weeks, the study was finally drafted and the most important meeting took place: the one with all the faculty members.

It was like defending my doctorate thesis all over again, only now I was doing it in front of my peers. That meant two things: first, since I was working with my peers, I was considerably less nervous, and second, the University’s name (and their jobs) was at stake, so I was demanded even more than I was before.

After unanimous approval of my project by all the faculty members, it was time to discuss how we get funding.

“It is customary to throw a gala, or if you prefer, a fundraiser party.” Olive told me. “We invite the CEO’s of the most influential companies, the partners, some big names known for funding other researches. Before dinner, you’ll be presenting your study, dazzling them with facts and figures, and then it’s a whole night of grooming and, forgive me the jargon, buttering up. That is usually my job, not yours.” Olive explained.

“You need me to prepare a presentation, then. Sure.” I nodded.

“We will be inviting the companies you worked with for your doctorate thesis as well. Our other guests will hear from them how dependable you were, how good your ideas proved to be. Good publicity.”

“I will send their contact information right away.” I took my phone from my purse.

“No need.” Olive interrupted me, a worried look on her face. “Andrea, we need to talk about something.”

I blinked at her, wondering what was troubling her.

“We have already found someone who will be funding the majority of your study.” Olive confessed. “LFG will be funding your study.”

I could feel Olive preparing for my outburst. However, my initial shock left no room for any reaction.

“Wait…” I almost whispered, trying to understand fully what I had just been told. “I’m supposed to be present in all meetings regarding my study. When did this take place?”

“Mr. Lee required a private meeting. It was only me and him in the room. He found it… less troublesome that way.” Olive’s voice was calm and final, hoping I would drop the subject.

The hell I would.

“First of all, it’s my study, Olive. I should’ve been there.” I was trying hard not to show the full extent of my anger. “Second of all, you told me my relationship with Victor would discredit my work. LFG funding my work won’t? It’s his company!”

Olive turned pale. She understood exactly what I was implying. She cleared her throat and gave me a polite smile.

“Mr. Lee assured us that he will personally make sure that his presence won’t hurt your work in any way. And since he is investing in the project, I only have reasons to believe he will keep his word. This could be very good for us, Andrea. LFG’s interest in any project is the greatest stamp of approval one can get in Loveland. It will make heads turn. The scandal involving you two may give us even more publicity. People will want to know what you have to say.”

“Which part? My abuse or my failed relationship with Victor? Which one of my painful life chapters will serve the university better?” Olive silently lowered her head, slightly ashamed. “How much is Victor giving to my study? I just want to know how much my private life is worth in your eyes.”

Again, Olive was silent. I could only assume the amount he offered was more than generous.

“If you have nothing else to say, I need to go now.” I said, getting from my chair.

“Andrea, what are you going to do?” The Dean asked, when she saw the look in my eyes.

“I’m working on the study. If LFG’s CEO is being so generous with us, I have to make it worth his while.”

I was fuming with rage when I got to my office. I should’ve guessed that money would trump integrity. The University was adamant that I kept my private life private and now it was okay to milk it for the sake of publicity? My abuse and my story with Victor were now things they could use? I started rethinking my job at the University. Maybe I didn’t belong there at all. And that wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg of my rage. I spent all this time worrying about Victor, wondering how he was doing, and he was doing things behind my back? Why was he so interested in my study, all of the sudden? He never expressed an interest in funding my study before, so why now? Was it his way to interfere with my life somehow? Did he think he was helping, by pulling the strings?

All the guilt I was experiencing for hurting his feelings was suddenly gone. I had been so in love with Victor’s soft side that I had completely forgotten he had this cold aspect in him, the CEO mode, the side of him that made him a spectacular businessman. Although I knew he was honorable, I also knew he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, using his money as a master key to open all doors. And I wasn’t sure why, maybe all Victor wanted to do was to help me, but I couldn’t allow him to pull strings in my life just like that. Even if he meant well.

I had been dreading the moment I would see Victor again, since that crappy afternoon. The moment had arrived sooner than I expected.

I strode into LFG’s financial department dead set on one goal: to talk to the CEO and put him in this place. If Victor’s presence would discredit all that I worked so hard for, he would have to leave. Love or no love. Money or no money.

Goldman spotted me from the distance and tried to deter me, to no avail.

“Is he in his office?” I asked, my face dead serious.

“Andy…” Goldman stood in my way, trying to appease me.

“Is he alone?” I raised my eyebrow at him. Goldman took a step sideways, letting me pass. He knew I wasn’t going to give up like that.

I knocked on Victor’s door and walked right in, not even waiting for his answer.

Victor was busy working on his computer, and looked up, shocked to see me standing there. The surprise on his face was quickly replaced by an icy expression. I felt my resolve fade for a moment. It was a long time since I had been at the other end of that cold stare.

“We need to talk.” I said, reminding myself why I was there, not wasting any time.

“Well, come in. Have a seat.” His sarcasm was almost palpable. “How can I help you?”

I didn’t sit down. I went straight to the point.

“I want you to withdraw the funding for my research.”

Victor was unfazed. He looked at me with curious eyes.

“Your hair looks different.”

I sighed. It was clear he wasn’t going to make this easy.

“Victor, you need to withdraw your funding for my research.”

“I disagree.”

“How can you disagree? You were there too. Our story was all over the media, you know as well as I do this can affect my career. Your investment in my work will discredit it.” I couldn’t believe how passive he was. He simply ignored me, resuming whatever he was doing.

“Is that all you came here to say?” He said from behind the screen of his laptop. “All your concerns are unfounded. It’s already being taken care of.”

“And how, if I may ask, are you taking care of it?”

“Do you find me unable to diffuse a little gossip?”

“It’s not a little gossip, it’s my life!” I could feel my blood boil again, seeing him treating it all like some meaningless business deal. “My name on those tabloids! And yours! Drop the funding!”

“I will not.” He stated.

“Why are you doing this in the first place?” I raised my voice, anger and frustration making me lose my temper. “You went behind my back, spoke to the Dean, requested specifically that I wasn’t present in that meeting, for what? You are trying to pull strings in my life. This is personal for you.”

I had pushed a button. Victor’s eyes bore into mine, full of venom. He got up from his desk and placed both hands on it, almost like he was defending his territory.

“No, you are making this personal.” Victor spoke with disdain. “Yes, I am pulling strings, because funding and participating in your study will bring LFG great benefit. Do not flatter yourself thinking I am doing this because of our history together. I stopped thinking about you the exact moment you walked out my door. Start acting like an adult and work nicely with your sponsor, because whether you want it or not, that’s what’s best for your project.”

His words were like a dagger in my heart. He hated my guts. He wanted me to know how insignificant I was to him. That was his punishment. But instead of making me sad, all he said just made the bad blood rise faster.

“Withdraw your funding or I will withdraw myself from the study.” I threatened. He would not get the upper hand. Victor looked at me, his impervious mask falling, pain and disappointment in his eyes.

“Would you give up your dream and your career just to avoid working with me? Do you loathe me that much?”

Something in me softened. I looked at him, and saw the real him. The Victor I loved. I sighed, exhausted. Instantly, all my will to fight was gone.

“I told you, I’m not doing this for personal reasons.” Victor reassured me, his voice a little softer. “Truth be told, since the fashion show and its success, the partners have insisted quite adamantly on working with you. Rest assured, this is my investment, and you know I take good care of my investments. Whatever problems you may find, I will fix them.”

I let myself fully relax, and noticed Victor relaxed too. It was like we were holding an inflated balloon deep inside, and we had finally let all the air out. As for myself, I was tired of all the back and forth, and it seemed to be pointless, so maybe conceding this time was a good idea.

“I really hope you know what you are doing.”

Victor suppressed a smile.

“I always know what I’m doing.”

I turned to leave. Before I could reach the doorknob, I heard him clear his throat.

“You look well.” Victor said, raising the proverbial white flag. Respect between opponents. Very like him to do that.

“I am well.” I lied. “I’m glad to see you are doing well too.” He gave me a small nod and I opened the door to leave. “See you around, Mr. Lee.”

“Until the next time, Miss Jones.”

[calpalirwin]

Shenanigan Squad

Summary: Ashton’s focus was simple: graduate. But if he happened to make some friends, and maybe a little more, along the way, he wasn’t one to complain.

A/N: College Ash AU!

Content: Swearing. Alcohol usage. AKA Bri and her usual bullshit.

Word Count: Just shy of 6k

And away, and away we go!

~~~

Ashton’s glasses pushed up as he rubbed at his eyes. Eight am was way too early to be having class. But, at least he had his friend Mike with him. Graduation was so close, he could practically feel the degree in his hand. And at least the class was taught by Professor Lewis. So even though it was early, the enthusiasm was infectious as the red-haired, freckled professor bounced around the front of the lecture room, his voice way too perky as he went, “Alright! Let’s get this started! Get to know your neighbors! Find out what they did over the summer!”

Ashton couldn’t help but chuckle at the older man’s energy as he turned in his seat and started conversing with Mike, catching up on how the summer had treated them both. While they had kept in touch, neither of them had actually seen each other since May right after finals. That wasn’t to say they weren’t friends though. A shared major and common quest for a scrap of paper was a bonding experience and Ashton had created a small close-knit group without ever realizing it.

“Ah, Jo! Nice of you to join us!” Professor Lewis said as a young woman walked in, backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Hey,” she greeted warmly, hurrying up the aisle and taking the empty seat behind Mike.

Ashton looked at the woman in her flannel with the sleeves rolled up, her blonde-streaked hair pulled back into a ponytail, her cheeks flushed from her fast-paced walk across campus. Her black glasses slid down her nose as she pulled a notebook and pen out of her backpack. She pushed them back into place and she flipped open the notebook before reaching forward to tap Mike on the shoulder. “Psst, Mike, what are we doing?”

“Jo!” Mike said happily. “Introductions. What we did over the summer. You know.”

“Cool,” she nodded, her brown eyes scanning the room. “Aw, sweet Luke’s here, too? Dope.” She offered a small wave to the tall blue-eyed blonde closer to the back of the room. “And you are?” she asked, her gaze settling on Ashton as she finished her scan of the room.

“Ashton,” he supplied, offering her a hand.

“Jordan,” she smiled, a dimple appearing in her right cheek. “Or Jo. Are you new to the history department? Or have we just never been lucky enough to have a class together?”

“Not lucky enough to have a class together,” Mike explained to her. “Ash is gonna be in thesis with us, too.”

“Oh, shit, yeah?” she asked, her eyes brightening. “Dope. Luke’s in it too, yeah?”

“Yup,” the green eyed boy said. “Not Cal though. He couldn’t get a section.”

“Bummer,” she said, leaning back in her desk. “So, Ash- Do you prefer Ash or Ashton?- How do you know this nerd?” she asked, gesturing to Mike.

“Oh, we took the historiography class last semester together. But we’ve had other classes together too. And Ash is fine.”

“Right, cuz you, Cal, and Luke ditched me,” she said with playful roll of her eyes as she nudged Mike’s shoulder.

Ashton wasn’t sure why, but he swallowed harshly as Calum’s name was brought up for the second time. He knew the brown-skinned boy fairly well, having had a class or two with him in the past. They were friendly. Ashton would easily consider Calum to be part of his close-knit group. But the fact that the girl to his right also knew Calum didn’t settle well in his stomach.

“It didn’t fit in our schedule. And hey, at least we had Lewis together,” Mike defended.

She nodded again. “True that. And my historiography paper was loads easier than yours.”

“Fucker,” Mike muttered with a small chortle. “Jo here got it easy with Lopez and turned in...” Mike started to explain to the rest of the small group but faltered. “How many pages did you turn in?” he asked, his green-eyed gaze shifting to the girl.

Jordan’s gaze went up and her teeth bit into her lower lip as she thought. “Like.. 4 and a half, I think?” she answered, uncertainly.

Ashton whistled low. “Shit, I turned in 12 I think.”

Jordan shrugged. “I got a B minus, so…”

“Alright!” Professor Lewis said, his hands clapping together to get the attention of the room full of history majors. “Let’s hear about your classmates’ summers.”

“Shit…” Ashton muttered under his breath, realizing that the group of two turned three hadn’t figured out who was introducing who.

Jordan waved a hand in a circle. “I’ll do Mike. Mike’ll do you. You’ll do me.”

Mike nodded in agreement but Ashton’s hazel eyes widened a bit in panic. He knew nothing about the girl he was supposed to introduce. He was so panicked at being unprepared that he even catch the way Mike jokingly wiggled his eyebrows at the young woman’s words. “What am I supposed to say?” Ashton whispered at her.

“I’m Jo. I’m in my last year. I went to Oregon,” she whispered back with a wink.

Ashton nodded and leaned back in his seat, waiting for their turn.

“You three?” Professor Lewis said, gesturing at the group.

“This is Mike. He’s a last year history major. And he played videogames over the summer,” Jordan started, making up something about Mike she knew to be true on the spot.

Mike laughed with a nod before he went about introducing Ashton. Then, it was Ashton’s turn. “This is Jo. She’s in her last year. And she went to Oregon over the summer,” the soft brown haired man said.

“Oregon, nice,” Professor Lewis nodded approvingly. “Do anything cool?”

Jordan shrugged. “Ziplining, cave exploring. Had a snowball fight at Crater Lake.”

“Snow in the summer, huh? That must’ve been cool,” Professor Lewis continued to converse.

Jordan laughed. “Not nearly as cool as white water rafting.”

“Sounds like quite the adventure. Glad you came back to us.”

“No place I’d rather be,” she grinned, hands clasping behind her head.

“You flatter me, Jo,” Lewis laughed before moving on.

Ashton on the other hand, agreed with Jordan. There was no place he’d rather be either.

~~~

“So, what’s the game plan?” Jordan asked, her backpack slung over one shoulder as the trio milled around the hallway outside the classroom, Luke having slipped out and disappeared already.

“Gonna hit up the library before thesis,” Mike told her, a hand ruffling his blonde hair.

“Aw, so that’s a no on food?” she frowned.

Ashton shrugged, his hands going into the pockets of his jeans. “I could eat,” he offered.

Jordan grinned and then her arm was flinging itself across his shoulders. “Catch ya on the flip side, nerd!” she waved with her free hand as she started walking towards the door, taking Ashton with her.

“You’re the nerd, nerd!” was the response called after her without missing a beat, giving Ashton the impression that this was a frequent back-and-forth between the two

“The nerdiest!” was the retort, complete with a middle finger thrown Mike’s way and a laugh that seemed too loud for a girl of her size. “So, Ash,” she started as they walked together, her arm dropping from around his shoulders. “Whatcha in the mood for? I’m thinking a bagel from the coffee shop sounds amazing right now. But, I’m open to persuasion if you want something else.”

“Nah, a bagel and coffee sound fuckin great now that you mention it.”

“Ooo a coffee person, huh?”

He shrugged, “Gets me through the day.”

She waved a finger at him in agreement, “Fair enough.”

“Not a coffee drinker, I take it?”

“Not really. I mean, I will on occasion. Like I’ll probably get one after lunch to power me though my poli sci class later.”

“Which one?” he asked, curious as he too had a political science class later in the day.

“California,” she frowned, clearly not excited about the concept. “It’s so dumb. Like I’ve taken California geography and California history, and now I have to take California politics? They should figure out a way to combine it all because the overlap is ridiculous.”

He giggled, knowing her pain all too well. “What time and who with?”

“Uh… 4 with Stevens.”

“Shit, me too!”

“Yeah?” she asked, turning to look at him, her brown eyes lit up with excitement behind the black frames. “Sweet! I won’t have to suffer alone.”

He giggled again and her heart did flips at the sound. He pulled the door to the coffee shop and held it open for them. “After you, m’lady,” he said with a silly posh voice.

“Oh, why thank you, good sir,” she responded in the same voice, even giving him a small curtsy before walking through the door and giggling. “You got a girlfriend, Ash?” she asked as they got in line.

“Nah,” he said, his cheeks flushing the same color as his red sweater, a hand pushing through his fluffy hair.

“Bummer,” she said with a sad shake of her head. “Me neither.”

“Oh?” he chuckled, her words taking him by surprise.

She giggled. “It’s a joke. But it’s also true. I’m bi. But, I got a boyfriend instead.”

“Oh…” he said. Of course someone like her would have a boyfriend. She was as if laughter and sunshine had become a person. Who wouldn’t want her? But it did make him feel loads better at her knowing Calum.

Jordan was grateful it was her turn to order so Ashton couldn’t catch her blush. She had heard the deflation in his tone. She had always thought herself too boy-ish and loud to draw much attraction from others. Attention she certainly held as it was hard to ignore the quick-witted young woman, but attraction? Nah, there were plenty of girls who were prettier and more soft-spoken than her. So it always took her by surprise when people seemed to like her. Especially when that attraction seemed to be coming from someone she deemed as so far out of her league as Ashton. “Eh, he’s an idiot,” she finally said, moving to the side so he could order. “Him and Mike are gaming buddies. It’s how I met Mike, actually.”

“Oh?”

“You say that a lot,” she decided with a giggle. “But, I can hook you up with someone if you like? I mean, I set Luke and Sierra, and Crystal and Mike. So, I’m pretty good.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Nah, I’m good for now, thanks though.” He only wanted to be hooked up with one girl and he was looking at her. And she had the most dazzling smile.

~~~

“You better have blocked Nick, that scumbag,” Jordan growled at Mike a week later, her usually shoulder length hair shorn short in an asymmetrical bob, showing the woman’s natural chestnut colored hair in its full glory.

“Already did,” Mike said, patting the hand she had slammed down on her desk with affection. “I dig the hair by the way. Very edgy. It suits ya.”

“You think?” she asked, a small smile at her lips, a hand running through the longer side. “Not too dramatic?”

“Oh, very dramatic,” Mike replied.

“Dramatic enough to appease the girl gods?” she asked sarcastically with a roll of her eyes.

Mike shrugged, “Here’s to hoping.”

“I really hate boys,” she said with another eye roll. “No offense to you guys.”

“None taken,” Ashton told her.

“Yeah, we’re men,” Mike added, making his voice deeper and puffing out his chest.

Jordan laughed and shook her head, “You’re a bunch of nerds is what you are.”

“The nerdiest,” her two friends smirked back at her. Then “Who’s Nick?” Ashton asked, curious about the boy who evoked such a rage from such a happy person.

“Her boyfriend,” Mike answered.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Jordan clarified, before tilting her head back to yell out, “God, boys suck!”

“And what’s your evidence, Jo?” Professor Lewis’ voice asked as he strolled in the classroom.

“Uh, all of history? Let’s face it, your gender blows.”

The man frowned. “That’s quite the over-generalization, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” she admitted. “But, you know I’m right. Your gender has an…” she paused, fighting to find the right word. “Affinity! For making history the chaotic mess it is.”

“I’ll grant you that much,” the man agreed. “Speaking of chaotic messes!” he continued, loudly, drawing the attention of the rest of the class and starting the lecture.

~~~

“So, what’s the game plan?” Jordan asked her usual question as the trio walked together out of the building.

The two guys shrugged. The small joy of taking a morning class that met on Fridays was that they did had the whole day to do whatever after class.

“Think it’s too early to get a beer?” she asked with a short laugh.

“Jo, it’s nine in the morning,” Mike laughed. “And you don't drink.”

“Much,” Jordan corrected. “And I’m not hearing a no.”

Mike shrugged. “I ain’t got shit to do. Your place?”

She high-fived the blonde, “Fuck yeah.”

“Do you even have anything to drink at your place?”

She smiled sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders. “Booze run?”

Mike laughed loudly. “How typical! Jo wants to get drunk, but wants us to foot the bill.”

“Hey!” she laughed back, poking his chest. “I am a broke college student. So you’re damn right I do!”

This earned laughs from all three of them. “Alright, so my place in say an hour? Bring your own choice of poison?” she asked.

There was a murmur of agreement, then, “Wait,” Ashton said. “I don’t know where you live.”

“Aw, shit,” Jordan said, her nose scrunching up as she pulled out her phone. She typed something into it and then both boys’ phones pinged. “There,” she chirped happily, pocketing her phone.

“Shenanigan Squad?” Mike asked, eyebrows raising at the name of the group chat. “Nice group name,” he approved.

“Oh, damn that is a good name,” Ashton agreed.

“I like alliterations,” Jordan shrugged.

~~~

“So, why’d you and your boyfriend break up?” Ashton asked as they all hung around Jordan’s place which turned out to be a small back house behind her grandparents.

She passed a hand through her hair and let out a slow breath. “Gonna have to get me drunk to hear that story,” she decided, giving a short laugh.

“That won’t take long,” Mike said, his gaze not shifting from the game he was playing with some other friends online.

“Shut the fuck up,” she laughed, a sound truer to her real laugh than the short one she gave a mere moment ago.

“Aw, you’re really gonna say you’re not already feeling it a little?” Mike asked, looking over at the woman to wiggle his eyebrows at her before returning his attention to the game.

Jordan tilted the cup in her hand to peer at the liquid swirling down at the bottom. “Almost. But, I’m gonna need a refill first,” she confessed, drumming her fingers against her jeans as she stood up. “Y’all need anything?” she asked, walking the short distance to the kitchen.

“Yeah,” came the response from both guys.

“Whoa,” she laughed, “I’m not your waitress. Mike, you know where shit is.”

“Yeah, but you’re up,” Mike said.

Ashton rolled his eyes and pushed himself off his spot from the couch. “I’ll help ya,” he offered, crossing the short distance to her fridge and pulling forth a beer for Mike.

“Mike, you’ve been dethroned as my favorite,” Jordan told her friend smugly before smiling softly at Ashton. Ashton noted the way it made her eyes squinch up- a true Jordan smile.

“Yeah, love you too, Jo.”

Jordan shook her head and set out to make her drink. “Bottle opener’s there,” she said, gesturing next to Ashton with the bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Whatcha making?” Ashton asked, popping open the top to the beer.

“Jack and Coke. Want one?”

“Sure, thanks.”

“Fair warning, I make it with a lot of Coke,” she told him. “Like a lot, a lot.”

“That’s fine,” he responded. He could handle strong drinks, but he wasn’t the biggest fan of drinking himself. Getting drunk scared him.

“Here,” she said, holding out her cup to him. “This is how I make mine. Same or stronger?”

Ashton took the cup in his hand and took a swallow. The carbonated sweet drink held just the slightest trace of that good whiskey burn. “Yeah, that’s good,” he said, passing her the cup back. “How do you get drunk drinking like that?”

She took a deep drink, winking at him over the rim of the cup. God, he wanted to be that cup. “That’s my secret, Cap. I’m never drunk.”

~~~

“Catch ya on the flip side, nerds?” Jo asked, her hands going into the pockets of her zip-up hoodie as the trio walked out of the last class of the semester.

“Yup, see you nerds in January,” Mike said, pulling up his beanie down lower over his head.

“Where you headed?” Ashton asked Jordan.

She shrugged. “Home probably.”

“Wanna get one last coffee?” he asked, his hands pushing his hair to the side. Their bagel and coffee had grown to become the duo’s tri-weekly tradition, and Ashton wasn’t ready to say goodbye until January just yet. Not that he had made a move. No, he was letting Jordan recover from her break-up. He didn’t want to be a rebound. Plus, he wasn’t even sure if Jordan liked him that way. And as cliche as it was, he didn’t want to risk losing his coffee date buddy.

She smiled and looped her arm through his. “To coffee!” she declared in a silly voice.

“To coffee!” he giggled, taking the lead in walking down towards the coffee shop. “M’lady,” he said, getting the door.

“Why thank you, good sir,” she laughed. Then, “Hey, I’m sorry. I got a little caught up this semester with…” she let out a huff and waved her hands around, “everything. Did you ever get that girlfriend? Or find someone you’re interested in?”

He giggled and shook his head, his hair shaking with the movement, glasses sliding down his nose. He pushed them back up into place. “Nah.”

She frowned but her brown eyes remained playful behind her own glasses. “Aw, one of them ‘gonna finish school’ first types, huh?”

Ashton chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

She scoffed as she got her bagel and hot chocolate. “While I respect those types, I also can’t understand it. Like why not date someone while you ‘find’ yourself or whatever? That’s half the fun of a relationship is watching them grow into the person their meant to be.”

Ashton nodded his head as he grabbed his coffee and they took a seat but didn’t say anything. In his opinion, she was right. Half of his fun over the past semester was watching her grow back into her loud tomboy self. Instead, he watched as she sipped her drink, an urge to capture this moment washing over him. “Smile,” he said, opening his phone’s camera. Instead of smiling, she raised her eyebrows, giving him a mysterious quirky look over the rim of her paper cup.

“You gonna show me?” she asked, leaning across the table.

“Nah, not a chance,” he giggled, pocketing his phone.

“It is good at least?” she pressed.

He giggled more, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I’m not answering that.”

“Damn, that bad, huh?” she laughed.

He just laughed with her rather than admit his true feelings about the picture and the girl in it. It was perfectly Jordan in every possible way- cute and snarky with a little bit of knowing he’d never be able to fully pin her down.

He was walking just a few steps in front of her when he saw the phone come out. He turned, his tongue coming at the corner of his mouth as the camera shutter clicked. “Ha!” she laughed at him. “If you can take candids of me, you best believe I’m gonna do it back.”

She was more generous than he had been, tilting her wrist so he could look at the picture. “Damn, that’s bad,” he giggled.

“Well, by all means,” she gestured with her phone.

He rolled his eyes, but cocked his head slightly to the side, offering the barest hint of a smile. “Better?” he asked.

“Would it have killed ya to smile?” she teased.

“Would it have killed you?” he teased back, patting his pocket where his own phone was.

“Touche,” she relented. “Alright, catch ya on the flip side, nerd,” she finally said, stepping in the close the gap between them, her arms wrapping briefly around his shoulders.

“See you in January, Jo,” he responded, hugging her back and swallowing how easy this felt. Everything about his relationship with Jordan was easy. His urge to kiss her felt so natural he almost did it. His head tilted and his lips puckered. But then she was pulling out of the hug and his heart was pounding in his chest instead.

~~~

SmashIrwin: Last coffee of the semester with @heyitsjogirl

Liked by @heyitsjogirl and @mikerowave_X

Comment from @mikerowave_X: WITHOUT ME?!

@heyitsjogirl replied to @mikerowave_X: We’ve been getting coffee all semester, where you at?! #shenanigansquad

heyitsjogirl: Gonna miss this nerd. With @SmashIrwin

Liked by @SmashIrwin and @mikerowave_X

Comment from @mikerowave_X: Wow, the audacity… #ineednewfriends #shenanigansquad #morelikesheNAHnigansquad

@SmashIrwin replied to @mikerowave_X: Mikey, don’t even… #shenanigansquad

@heyitsjogirl replied to @mikerowave_X: What @SmashIrwin said. No complaining if you can’t roll with us #shenanigansquad #thenerdiestofnerds

~~~

Jo-girl: Fuck! Overslept! Don’t let Lewis drop me, lol

Smashton: I’ll make sure he doesn’t

Mikeywave: UGH HURRY UP!

Jo-girl: FUCK YOU! 

Jo-girl: Also save me a seat!

~~~

“Jo, welcome, welcome!” Professor Lewis’ voice chirped brightly as Jordan breezed in, her cheeks flushed from both the cold and the half-sprint across the campus as she took the seat next to Ash and behind Mike.

“Sup?” she nodded her head, half-heartedly, her glasses pushing up as she rubbed at her eyes and yawned. “Fuck, getting back into sync is gonna suck.”

Mike laughed, “How late were you up last night?”

She shrugged, “Like 2? What are we doing? Saying what we did over break?”

“And what we’re looking forward to most,” Ashton told her.

“May,” she said with a harsh laugh, then her eyes danced as she looked longingly towards the door. “Get me outta here, please!”

“Glad to have you in class again, too, Jo,” Professor Lewis said with an eye roll.

~~~

“So, how was your break?” Ashton asked as they walked out, having left Mike behind because he had another class in the same room.

“Just the recharge I needed,” she said, looping her arm through his. “You got class or is it time for coffee?”

“Nah, I’m free until Van.”

“To coffee!” she declared in that silly voice he had missed than he realized.

“Onwards, m’lady!”

Her laugh rang out, her breath still visible in the morning cold. “How was your break?” she asked, her voice back to its normal lilt.

“It was good,” he replied.

She nodded, accepting the barely-scratching-the-surface answer. Then, “Have you taken digital research yet?”

He shook his head. “I’m taking it this semester.”

“Sweet, who with?”

“Professor Walker.”

“Yes!” she cheered, pumping her fist in victory. “I won’t have to suffer alone!”

He giggled. “Professor Walker’s great, what are you talking about?”

“Oh, I know. But like… you know?”

He nodded, knowing what she wasn’t saying. Taking classes without Jordan sitting next to him just weren’t as enjoyable.

~~~

@heyitsjogirl: Not the same without my #shenanigansquad but jo girl is TIRED!

Liked by @SmashIrwin and @mikerowave_X

Comment by SmashIrwin: Clearly not too tired to commit BETRAYAL!

@mikerowave_X replied to @SmashIrwin: THIS IS TREASON!

@heyitsjogirl replied to @SmashIrwin: Y’all are idiots lmao.

~~~

“Deja vu!” Jordan’s voice laughed as she waltzed into the room and spotted Ashton in the same seat he had been in earlier when they had been in the classroom for their thesis class. “Holy shit, definite deja vu,” she continued to laugh, waving over at Luke on the other side of the classroom. “Lu, do I just have you for every class? You stalking me?”

Luke’s blue eyes danced and his blonde curls shook as he laughed. “Shh, just ignore me.”

“Hey, remind me to get your number after class.”

“Oh yeah, for sure.”

Jordan was about to turn to start chatting with Ashton but the door opened and in walked Calum Hood. “Yo! Where ya been, Hood?!” Jordan said, her brown eyes lighting up behind her glasses.

“Jo girl!” Calum said, taking a seat on the other side of her.

Ashton busied himself with staring out the window. Great. This was just what he needed. Competition from the tanned soccer god.

“Britt!” Jordan’s voice squealed as a young woman breezed into the room, startling Ashton from his thoughts.

“Jo! I’ve missed you girlie!” the woman said, coming to sit behind Calum.

“Do you know everyone?” Ashton laughed, breathing a little easier at the other woman’s presence. Maybe girl bonding would distract from Calum attraction.

“I’m popular, what can I say?” she winked. “Britt this is Ash. Ash, this is Britt. My year is not complete if I don’t take at least one class with her.”

Ashton clutched his hand to his heart in mock pain. “I am OFFENDED!” he gasped.

Jordan giggled and pushed his shoulder playfully. “Fuckin’ nerd. You know I love you.”

“You’re the nerd, nerd,” he mumbled, his cheeks flushing and heart racing at how easy the words rolled off her lips in his direction.

“The nerdiest,” she grinned.

~~~

Ashton’s heart sank a little when Jordan left the classroom without waiting for him. But when he pushed his way out, he saw her standing in the hallway, chatting with Luke. “And send,” she said, tapping at her phone.

Two seconds later, Luke’s phone pinged. “Sweet, see ya, Jo. Later Ash.”

“Later,” they both told him, watching the blonde sling off into the dark evening. Then, “Thought ya ditched me. Watched you go and was like ‘Jo! Jo, no!’”

She laughed. “Nah, I’d never ditch ya. C’mon, I’m parked in lot M.”

“Cool, me too,” he lied.

They made pleasant conversation as they trekked across campus in the dark, both admitting their delight in the course they were taking and how close graduation was. And also admitting their fear that graduation was right around the corner. “But you’ll be back in August for the graduate program, won’t you?” he asked her.

“Yeah, but still. You know people always tell you to chase after your dreams no matter the cost. But nobody tells you what to do when those dreams come true, you know? Like what happens when there’s nothing left for me to chase after? What if I’m chasing after something to fill a void that’s unfillable?”

He nodded, pondering her words. Then, “But is that any reason not to chase after what you want?”

Her laugh echoed throughout the parking structure. “God, no. I’m a firm believer that taking your chance is always worth the risk.” She reached into the pocket of her jeans to pull out her car keys as she jogged up the stairs. “Well, this is me,” she said, slightly breathless. “Catch ya on the flip side?”

“See ya, nerd,” he smiled before heading back to the staircase.

“Hey!” she called out after him, her hands on her hips. “You said you were parked here!”

“I lied!”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“I know. I wanted to. See ya!”

She chuckled to herself as she watched him disappear down the stairs. Damn, he made it really hard not to like him. In their short time together, he had become one of her closest friends and he knew her almost as well as Mike did. It took a lot of willpower to not brush his hair out of his face every time she saw him. She bet it was soft and imagined it would fall through her fingertips like water. She bit her lip and chuckled again, deciding then and there that she would kiss that boy at graduation if he didn’t kiss her first.

~~~

“Hey, you stole my shirt,” Jordan said, her nose scrunching up playfully as she walked into class and took notice of Calum in his seat, wearing sure enough, the same grey NASA t-shirt Jordan was wearing.

“Psh, I had mine longer, so I think you stole mine,” Calum teased her back.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she laughed, taking her seat. “Hey, Ash.”

Ashton nodded in greeting, his gaze never leaving the window. “Gonna rain,” he murmured. A perfect metaphor, he thought with a sigh. His feelings for Jordan, much like the storm clouds outside were growing faster every second. And soon it was all going to come crashing down.

“Fuck, think we’ll make it out of class before then?” she asked, her brows furrowing together. She had a coat with her, but if it started pouring rain, she was toast.

Ashton shrugged. The storm in him was getting worse with each class session he spent with Jordan between him and Calum. Outside, lightning cracked across the sky and the first droplets began to fall.

~~~

“You good?” Jordan asked as they walked out of class together.

“Yeah, why?” he asked, his voice clipped, a frown on his face as he pushed his way out of the building. The rain was coming down, but the downpour had had given way to a lazy drizzle. Their hair began to frizz as they walked at a fast pace to the parking lot. He had started parking in the same lot as her since that first day of classes.

“You just seem off,” she commented, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

“Just tired, I guess,” he shrugged, walking a few paces ahead of her.

She shook her head and quickened her pace to fall into step beside him. “No. I know you. This isn’t your end of the day tired. This is something is wrong pissed off.”

He paused, his brows furrowing together. He had spent so much of his time noticing her that he never once thought to think she had been doing the same. Why would she notice someone like him, anyway? He was so… and she was so… “So,” he said, his voice as chilly as the air, resuming his walk.

“So?” she asked with a short chuckle and a click of her tongue. “Ash, we’re friends. You can tell me anything.”

“No, I really can’t, Jo,” he mumbled under his breath.

“That’s bullshit,” she scoffed.

“Is it?” he challenged, stopping again and whirling to face her.

“It is,” she asserted, planting her feet and crossing her arms, preparing for battle. Lightening cracked, illuminating them both, their eyes dark behind their rain-splattered glasses. “Well? Before I’m soaked, please,” she demanded, gesturing around as the rain started to fall faster and heavier.

“Do you like Cal?” his voice boomed with the thunder.

Her laugh was harsh. “Do I like Cal? What type of dumbass question is that?! Of course I like Cal.”

He gaze flicked away from hers, his face pinching. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Another harsh laugh fell from her lips. “Wow, the nerd finally realizes I’m friends with Cal. Stunning discovery! Bra-fuckin-vo!”

“Friends,” he scoffed, his eyes still avoiding hers as he struggled to come to terms with the fact he had been desperately hoping wasn’t true ever since he first learned Jordan knew Calum. Of course the pretty girl would like the pretty boy. He really shouldn’t be so surprised. But the truth stung all the same.

“What the fuck is your problem?” she growled, her hands shoving at his chest. “You’re being a real jerk and honestly, I’m not sure if I like this side of you.”

“Do you like any side of me?!” The question flew from his lips, his voice cracking with another lightening strike.

“Again with the dumbass questions! Of course I like you!”

“You just said you like Cal!”

The pieces clicked into place. Every shy shrug of his shoulders. Every door he opened for her. How he parked in the same lot as her so he could walk with her at the end of the day. The digging into her relationship with Calum. His persistence that he wasn’t interested in dating. God, why did it take feeling like the girl was slipping through their fingers before they could finally fight for what they wanted? “You really are a dumbass, aren’t you?” she shouted. If he needed a fight to finally do something, she was going to give him his fight. “I can like more than one person, Ashton! I’m allowed to have friends!”

He flinched at the usage of his full first name. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“Well, here, I’ll dumb it down for ya! Do I like Cal? Yes! Do I think he’s pretty? Yes! Does it matter? No! You wanna know why? Because Cal likes pretty girls, like Britt! Nobody who looks like Cal is looking at nerd tomboy Jo when a girl like Britt is right there behind him!”

Ashton faltered. Did Jordan really think she wasn’t pretty? Did she feel for Calum the same way he felt about her? That Calum was as far out of her league and she was out of Ashton’s? Fuck, of course she thought that. In what world would a girl like Jordan ever go for a boy like Ashton.

“Are you going to do something or just continue to stand there looking like a jackass?” her voice pulled him from his spiral.

The pieces clicked into place again. Every little smile she gave when he said he wasn’t interested in dating. Every hug that lingered. How she had told him she was a firm believer in taking chances, win or lose. Fuck it. Now or never.

He crossed the distance between them in one step, one hand gripping her chin as the other wrapped around her back. His head dipped down as he tilted hers up. His lips attached to hers and he smiled, feeling her sigh into it. It was deep and soft and it made their heads spin.

“Fuckin’ finally,” she said when they broke apart. Her eyes were shining as her finger traced the tingling in her lips.

“What?” he asked with a breathless chuckle.

“Took ya long enough.”

“I’m still not following.”

She rolled her eyes. “I like you, dumbass.”

“You do?”

“Would I do this if I didn’t?” she asked before kissing him, her hands running through the soft hair that fell through her fingers like water, just like she knew it would.

~~~

Jordan’s laugh bounced off the walls of the building as her and Ashton rounded the corner and found Britt with her back against the wall, Calum’s lips on hers. “See? I told ya Cal likes the pretty girls,” she told Ashton, her nose scrunching up.

Ashton giggled and took a page from Calum, pressing Jordan up against the wall, earning a small shriek of surprised laughter to fall from his girlfriend’s lips. “Shut up and kiss me, nerd,” he said before pressing his lips to hers. God, he would never get tired of kissing her.

“The nerdiest,” she smiled into the kiss.

“And the most beautiful.”

~~~

Tag List (Wanna join? Just ask!)

@goeatsomelife​ @flameraine​ @cashtonasff5sos​ @here-for-the-uproars​ @cxddlyash​ @1-irwin-94​ @baldcalum​ @sparkling-chaos​

[truerequitedlove]

Formless

something deep and primal within me begged me to write this. i hope someone else finds something in it for them as well

note - i wrote this in one sitting and i’m not super sure of it so constructive criticism is not only welcome but i’m begging u

disclaimer – i’m not claiming anything portrayed in this piece of fiction as true or untrue about any of the people i’ve used characterizations of in real life

Genre: introspection, reality/non-AU

Warnings: gender questioning, sexuality questioning, bit of gender dysphoria, brief mention of depression, brief mention of homophobia, brief existentialism, lots of queerness

Word Count: too long tbh (4.8k)

Dan wished he was formless.

read on ao3

~•~•~

Dan wished he was formless. Shapeless. Amorphous. Nebulous. He wished he was hazy around the edges. He wished he was open to interpretation, able to sway one direction and then just as quickly to the next. He wished he looked different depending on the light. He wished every time he was seen, he was new. He wished he was ambiguous. Silver in a world of bright colors. Reflective. He wished he was infinite and fathomless and chameleonic. He wished he was a grey area, balancing on a line, living in a pocket to the left of the known universe.  

But Dan was just Dan. Just lines and angles and flesh and bones.

And Dan didn’t know what caused him to long for this sense of formlessness. It could easily have been the sadness that occasionally overwhelmed him. The desire to be anything but human. Human with the pesky ability to feel and think and wonder and philosophize.

But that was different. When the sadness managed to take over, to eat at Dan, when the numbness set into his bones, it was different. During these times, he was formless. Not in the right way. In the confusing, fearful, way. When he melted into a puddle and parts of him kept slipping away, and he couldn’t gather himself up quickly enough to become whole again. To become a person again.

And Dan did like being a person. He liked being human. He liked the feeling of fingers trailing over his skin. He liked the way his stomach did flips before something amazing happened. He liked breathing in fresh air when he stepped outside or opened a window. He liked the way certain tastes bathed his tongue and made him feel inside his chest. He liked the way he could express his thoughts aloud, in writing, in art. He liked the way he could experience others’ thoughts through their words and art. He liked that he had a body that felt and a mind that thought.

So, Dan had begun to think that maybe he wanted formlessness only because of societal ideals.

Or, perhaps, that everyone was formless.

Perhaps humans existed in a formless, nebulous, chaotic state, and they forced themselves into molds to create forms that were organized and neat. Perhaps some humans fit those molds better than others. Perhaps some humans overflowed, seeped through the cracks, spilled out chaos.

Okay. Maybe from the moment one was born, molds were placed in front of them by the picture-perfect of the world. Molds made for them and handed to them as if one size fit all. Male. Female. Straight. Society asked humans to fit into the molds. When humans rejected these molds, they found another to try on. Gay. Bisexual. Ace.

But Dan wanted to be mold-less. Formless. He wanted to be an exception. He wanted—

“Dan?” a voice called from across the flat, breaking into his thoughts.

Dan frowned, trying to recapture the thought. Formless. Dan wanted to be formless with no limit to his—

“Dan?” the voice called again.

Dan sighed. “What?” he called back in a monotone.

“Pasta,” Phil replied shortly.

Dan shook his head, and his lips quirked up a little. He stood from the bed and walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

“You interrupted my introspection,” Dan said, knocking his hip against Phil’s as he reached to grab a bowl from the cupboard.

Phil scooped some of the pasta out of a pot on the stove into his own bowl. “Good,” he said, knocking Dan’s hip in return. “You’ve been doing too much of that.”

“I’m doing important reflection on my life and identity so that I can further my career and personal life in a way that stays authentic to my true self,” Dan argued, scooping himself up some pasta.

“I know,” Phil said, taking a seat at their table. “But, you know, I think sometimes you learn more about yourself by living life than reflecting on it.”

“I think I’ve lived a lot the past year,” Dan said, sitting across from Phil.

“Fair,” Phil said before he scooped some pasta noodles into his mouth. “What have you been thinkin’ about?” Phil asked, before fully swallowing his mouthful.

Dan raised an eyebrow, breathing out a soft chuckle at Phil. “Societal expectations versus individual identity.”

Phil chuckled. “I look forward to—to reading your thesis,” he joked.

Dan smiled. “Or maybe just watch my next video.”

Phil hummed. “Thinking about doing another deep-ish one?” he asked, and Phil always made it sound so simple.

“Maybe,” Dan said. “Haven’t decided.”

“Well,” Phil said, reaching for a napkin to wipe pasta sauce from the corner of his mouth. “Whatever it is, it’ll be great,” he promised.

Dan smiled a little. “What makes you say that?”

Phil swallowed his bite of pasta. “Because it’s you,” he said easily, scooping more pasta onto his fork. “Eat your pasta I slaved over it for hours.”

Dan rolled his eyes, still smiling a bit as he scooped some of the pasta onto his fork.

~•~•~

Dan looked himself in the mirror. He was still half-asleep, but he’d tugged on a t-shirt. And sweatpants, as it was a bit chilly. He hadn’t turned the bathroom light on, planning to try to sleep in a bit longer, but he’d paused when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

He looked at himself, unsure what exactly made him stop. It was him. He didn’t look terrible or exhausted. He didn’t look amazing, either. His curls fell into his face, grown out just a bit since his last haircut. The light cotton shirt he wore hung off his shoulders loosely. His sweatpants were nestled low around his hips. His cheeks were soft and red from sleeping. His lips were much less chapped than usual, red, and a bit plumper than usual.

He liked the way he looked.

Dan couldn’t perfectly put his finger on what it was he liked, but he felt good.

He felt... He felt that sense of formlessness that he’d been craving if only a little. It might have been the messiness. An oversized shirt, unkempt hair. No, no. It wasn’t the messiness. It definitely wasn’t the messiness. He grabbed a comb from the bathroom drawer, flicking the light on.

He played with his hair a bit, pushing it back and combing it forward. No, no. He tried to capture the feeling he wanted, but it felt like it was getting further and further away. No, no, what happened? Where had the feeling gone? Dan felt frustration slowly replace the satisfaction. Tears gathered in his eyes.

Dan heard Phil stumble toward the bathroom, and he opened the door, seeming surprised to see Dan despite the light being on. Phil was obviously still half-asleep, but he noticed Dan was upset.

“Hey,” Phil spoke, voice scratchy and deep. He tried to clear his throat with a cough. “Hey, what’s wrong?” His voice still came out a bit gravelly.

Dan reached up to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. “Oh, uh, nothing, nothing. Sorry. I’ll let you pee,” Dan said, leaving the bathroom. He was pretty sure that a less-sleepy Phil wouldn’t have let him get away so easily.

Dan crawled back into bed, trying to shake the strange discomfort that had crept up on him and just fall asleep again. Before he could, Phil crawled back into bed beside him.

“Hey,” Phil breathed, wrapping his arms around Dan’s middle. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Dan breathed, not sounding too convincing.

“Hey,” Phil murmured again, dropping a kiss to Dan’s head. “You’re gorgeous.”

Dan didn’t know how Phil knew to say that, but he smiled a little. Gorgeous . “Thanks,” Dan said genuinely.

~•~•~

Dan was thinking about high school. He was thinking about trying to be a scene kid, wearing skinny jeans, girls’ jeans, trying eyeliner, growing his hair too long, straightening it. He was thinking about the emo boys he’d known. He was noticing how the whole scene sort of allowed teenage boys to embrace a more feminine side. They got to mess around with feminine fashion, hairstyles, make-up, and express their emotions.

He was thinking about the kids who’d call him gay, throw rocks, yell ‘faggot’ after Dan and his friends. They’d just laugh at the time or yell something back, but Dan wondered if those things really did leave a lasting impact on his expression.  

He was thinking about the other night, the vague rightness he had seen in his reflection for a split second. He was thinking about how he knew, objectively, that he was a good-looking guy, but he was still unsatisfied with his appearance. He was thinking about his curly hair. He was thinking about his old reading festival bracelets. He was thinking about nail polish. He was thinking about his relationship with Phil. He was thinking about his fear of being labeled gay. He was thinking about the time when he was in uni and grew his hair out a bit long, straightened it, and put in earrings. He was thinking about the time when he cut his hair, styled it like every guy he knew did, defended himself, guarded himself, and shoved a few pieces of himself into the recesses of his being. He was thinking about the change between those times and the change between then and now.

Dan was thinking quite a lot.

He was thinking quite a lot about sexuality, gender, and identity.

He was thinking about it, because it wasn’t so scary at the moment, and he needed to take advantage of that.

There was a time when Dan wanted to be seen as anything but gay. Anything but feminine.

But, had Dan ever really felt masculine?

So, Dan thought about that. Had there ever been a time in his life that he had really felt like a boy or a man?

During his childhood, before gender or sexuality or appearance mattered, Dan would live carelessly. He would wear tiaras and tutus and sing spice girls into plastic microphones. He would climb trees and skin his knees and ride his bicycle around the neighborhood. He took piano lessons. He refused to play rough and fight with the other little boys. He made friends with girls. He ran through parks, rolled down grass hills. He hugged his grandma and kissed her hello. He was never good at sports. He loved video games.

And, no, he’d never felt like a girl . But, had he ever felt like a boy? Dan had never given much thought to gender. He’d always just been Dan . Dan with boy friends and girl friends. Dan who liked girls and liked boys. Dan who cursed at video games and cried listening to Cancer by My Chemical Romance.

Dan had felt gay before. He’d felt queer.

He often felt queer.

When he laid his head against the flat, broad, chest of his boyfriend. When he kissed the firmer lips of a man, his man. When he fell into bed with his lover, pressed himself into him, let him press himself into Dan. When Dan’s gaze toward a man lingered a second. God, when Dan looked in the mirror. He always felt queer. That was irrevocably a part of him. A part of him he’d learned to take pride in.

Alas, beyond that vague queerness, Dan had always struggled to define himself.

Dan stopped running, leaning against the wall and catching his breath. He looked around at the scarcely populated streets. The sun was just starting to properly light up the sky. Dan almost felt like the only one alive. He wondered when he became a morning person, but it was so peaceful. So still.

It was easier to think in the morning. He had a blank slate to work with. He wasn’t quite afraid of the world yet, because it wasn’t awake yet. It wasn’t bustling and busy and chaotic yet. In that, it was the same as staying up until two, or three, or four in the morning. The difference was in how Dan felt, how the world felt.  

Three am was full of people ending their days. Full of people hurting, thinking, crying, fucking, falling in love, feeling . There were anxieties about the morning lingering in the air. Time moved faster. There was something so heavy about the early hours of darkness.  

The morning was light. It was full of fresh starts and hope. Thoughts didn’t weigh so heavily on the mind, because there was the entire day to sort them out. Getting up early was already an accomplishment. The world was quiet, and time moved slowly.

At least for Dan.

He smiled a little.

Maybe Dan wasn’t entirely a man. He had never even felt too comfortable calling himself a man. ‘Boy’ has been okay. ‘Man’ was too…masculine. Too definitive.

Maybe he was just overthinking like he always did. Maybe gender roles meant nothing and Dan just refused to give into them. Maybe being a man was whatever he wanted it to be. Or maybe gender identity was just this vague and confusing feeling. Maybe Dan was a little bit formless. Maybe he couldn’t fit into any of the molds. Maybe he craved the same label-less formlessness for his gender as he did his sexuality. Maybe these thoughts would become terrifying in a few hours.

That was okay. Mornings were full of ‘maybe’s. Maybe he’d make breakfast. Maybe he’d crawl back into bed and fall back asleep. Maybe he’d look through old video idea files and see what he could update to match his current self. Maybe he would just watch the new Queer Eye episodes and play the piano and laze about. Maybe he would look in the mirror and say ‘maybe I’m not a man.’

Dan looked up at the sky again before changing the playlist on his phone to play the more upbeat instrumentals he had compiled for these runs. He set of jogging again.

It was still early.

~•~•~

Dan set a bottle of base-coat nail polish, a bottle of black nail polish, a bag of cotton balls, and a bottle of nail polish remover down on his desk one by one. He turned on a light and sat down.  

He untwisted the top to the base nail polish, wiping the brush on the sides to get rid of the excess, and brought the applicator to his fingernail, slowly painting a line of the clear polish onto his nail, messing up the moment he had to fill in around his skin, and painting over his skin.  

Dan took in a breath. He reached for a cotton ball and the nail polish remover, cleaning his nail off.  

He tried it again.

He messed up again, this time after a few more swipes of nail polish.

He took in a breath, wiping the nail polish away with a wetted cotton ball.

He tried again.

He didn’t mess up until he got to the black polish. He painted insanely messily and out of the lines, covering his skin and cuticles in the polish.

He took in a breath and reached for the nail polish remover.  

He tried again.

Paint went onto the nail. It was messy. It was outside the lines. It wasn’t right.

Dan didn’t allow himself to get frustrated. He took another deep breath. He wet another cotton ball.

He tried again.

It was understandable that the nail polish wouldn’t stay within the confines Dan had created for it. But, Dan wanted to find a way for something to fit right. He wanted the polish on his nails to be perfect. He wanted to get good at it. He wanted it to be normal and to feel second nature.

Once he could do this, he could do the next step.

Dan didn’t know what the next step was, but he knew he wanted to get there. He needed to get there.

So, he wiped his nails off, until he did the first one perfectly, none of it on his skin or cuticles. Then he moved to the next finger and did it again. He bit his lip as he focused, painting over and over until he got it perfect.

Then, once that was dried, he repeated the process on the other hand.

~•~•~

“Look,” Dan said, holding his hand out to Phil.

Phil spared a small glance. “Cute,” he said because this was normal.

“No,” Dan said. “Look.”

Phil perked an eyebrow, but looked again, taking Dan’s hand and holding it in the light to look them over. “Very pretty,” he said.

“I did a good job, yeah?” Dan asked because Phil was clueless and he needed the reassurance.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, they look great,” Phil assured. “Perfect, actually,” he said, looking them over.

Dan rolled his eyes and sat back. “Took a few attempts,” he said.

“Well, you’re getting good at it,” Phil said.

Dan smiled. “I try.”

Phil’s gaze remained on Dan’s face for a moment.

“What?” Dan asked, blushing . He was fucking blushing, he could feel the warmth in his cheeks. Phil Lester had spared him many a long glance with similar amounts of affection. Still, Dan felt his stomach flutter just a bit. Dan didn’t know why it felt different in the moment, but it did.

“Nothing,” Phil said, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You’re just. Dunno. You look very pretty.” He turned back to his laptop.

Dan smiled, looking away. “Thank you.”

~•~•~

Dan was scrolling through the Instagram of Ben J. Pierce and trying to remember when they’d ended up in a mutual following.

There was something lovely and inspiring about these queer creators he followed. The pride they took in their identity and expression was comforting and inspirational. Still, Dan managed to find sadness in it. He couldn’t help but feel strange. Ben, for example, was only just twenty years old. When Dan was twenty, he was entering the throes of repression, about to spend a year or so trying to change himself, to make himself more desirable to the audience he felt he wanted. Yet, there were so many younger than him who seemed to be so aware of themselves. So proud of themselves. And so loud about it.

Dan looked at the lipstick painted across Ben’s lips. The dresses pulled over his chest. The colors around his eyes. The shimmer on his cheekbones. Dan loved it. He loved it for Ben. But there was also a sort of longing in his chest as he looked at these pictures. Make-up seemed like a lot. A dress seemed like a lot. But, still, he wanted it. He wanted to be comfortable with the idea of his face covered in makeup and his awkward body stuffed into a skirt or dress. Not just in front of the mirror at home. Not just for the sake of trying it.

Maybe he would be someday.

A few years ago, it would have felt like a joke to want such a thing, so at least he was making progress. The idea of being anything but a man would have seemed like a joke.

Dan knew a lot of things now that he hadn’t known back then. He had met people in the past few years that a young, sexually confused and repressed Dan could never even have imagined existing. Young people with bright smiles and grateful words and knowledge of their own identity that Dan sort of envied.

People who looked up at him with bright eyes and said “thank you so much for always using inclusive language,” and “I met people through you that allowed me to find parts of myself and piece together my identity,” and “I’m glad you’re comfortable with traditionally non-masculine things, because I was made fun of for being a boy that likes feminine things.” People who made Dan feel like somehow this silly YouTube thing had a genuinely positive effect on hundreds of people. People who gave Dan way too much credit.

Dan looked down at his nails, painted flawlessly. He remembered the first time he’d properly painted them. The endless support and excitement that flooded in from fans. It had been silly. Love and support for putting a bit of paint on his nails. But, it had also been amazing. He had genuinely been afraid. He’d looked that the bottle of nail polish a fan had given him. A cheap, barely opaque, dollar store bottle. He’d felt the same longing he did now.

That was one thing. Not wanting to conform to gender roles. Life was too short to just live in the box set out for you by society.

The thing that was different was the strange euphoria that washed over him when he looked down at his painted nails. When he wore a too-big sweater. When his hair fell over his forehead just right.

Just the thought of drifting further away from the labels, boxes, and societal rules of gender made something bubble up inside of him. Something distinct from his current queerness but queer nonetheless. After all these months of introspection and striving to live as authentically as possible, Dan was ready to fully acknowledge this facet of his queerness. He was ready to acknowledge that he might not just wish for formlessness, but already be, in a way, formless.

~•~•~

Dan had been quiet and contemplative for a while. He was ready to talk now. He wanted to lay it all out verbally and piece it together in words as best as he could. Dan hated fixed labels, but his mind also hated leaving things nameless. Phil had patient ears, and soft encouragement, and had foolishly agreed to stay with Dan and listen to his contemplation for nine years and counting.

So, Dan walked into the lounge where he knew he’d find Phil and caught his gaze.

“What if I told you I wasn’t a man?”

Phil set aside his laptop, giving Dan his full attention. Dan hoped he wasn’t going to make a big deal, but he knew better. That wasn’t their style. Phil smiled a little and seemed neither startled nor bothered.

“I would say ‘okay,’” Phil said. “And I would ask if you’d like me to change the way I refer to you.”

Dan almost felt as though these were words contemplated by Phil before this conversation. Dan smiled little. Of course. He was stupid. Phil knew. God, Phil had probably known before Dan had even begun to properly question.

“And if I said I wasn’t sure?” Dan asked, sitting down on the other end of the couch so he could face Phil.

“Then,” Phil said easily. “I would say ‘okay,’ and ask if you wanted to talk about it.”

Dan smiled. “How long have you suspected?” he asked.

Phil understood because of course he did. Dan wasn’t sure how people communicated with people who didn’t know them so well. Talking to anyone else about this would have been so much different, so much scarier, and so much harder.

Phil shrugged. “I didn’t know anything for sure, but I hadn’t ruled it out. I just figured if you felt like you needed to say anything you would, and you have.”

Dan leaned back into the couch cushion, smiling a bit, but unsure exactly how to proceed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Phil asked.

Dan looked down at his black nails. “Yes.”

Phil shut his laptop, moved a bit closer to Dan and Dan talked.

Dan talked for a long time. He talked about the stupidity of gender roles, about the articles he’d read about gender being merely a construct. Scientific research studies. Phil mentioned gently and with a chuckle that Dan didn’t have to cite medical journals to justify the way he and many others felt.

Dan talked about being queer. He talked about painting his nails. He talked about catching glimpses of himself in the mirror and feeling warmth well up at the casual androgyny he sometimes found in his reflection. He talked about baggy clothes and small hoop earrings and curly hair. He talked about euphoria and dysphoria.

Dan talked about the non-binary and binary trans people who showed up to meet and greets. He talked about the queer pride that radiated off of so many of their audience. He talked about all he’d learned about the world in trying to understand his and Phil’s audience, and incidentally, all he’d learned about himself.  

He talked candidly about the difficulty he often had equating himself with a man. With maleness or masculinity. He talked about male beauty gurus and gender nonconforming people and drag queens and non-binary genders.

Phil listened. He added comments. He brought up things that he noticed about Dan that Dan hadn’t even noticed. He occasionally asked for clarification, but he knew all of the terms and the ideas and Dan was so glad Phil was quite queer as well.

They talked for hours, between bites of food and snacks. They talked until the sun went down. They talked until Dan’s jaw got tired and they couldn’t keep their eyes open.

“We should head to bed,” Phil said because he knew Dan could stay up and talk despite the tiredness.

Dan nodded. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Did we…did I ever reach any sort of conclusion?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’d say I did,” Phil said, smiling, eyes drooping and hand on Dan’s thigh.

“Mhm?” Dan asked, gently pushing Phil’s hair from his face. “What’s that?”

“You’re you,” Phil said. “And I love you.”

“Gross. Cheesy. I’m putting you to bed,” Dan said.

Phil smiled. “I know you like to think and sort things out,” Phil said, yawning. “But, I think things get clearer with time, you know? We’re moving slowly right now. You can let yourself slow down too. You’re ready, you know? Who you are—your truth—it’ll come to you, yeah? Piece by piece.”

Dan smiled. There were tear tracks on his cheeks because this was a lot. Talking about this was a lot. He was ready. He was finally ready to confront this vague feeling within himself that he’d always dismissed. And he didn’t have to do it alone. Another tear slipped down his cheek, and he swiped it away.

“Just let me know if you need me to change anything, or do anything. I know you’re getting so close to where you wanna be.”

Dan smiled, leaning into Phil. “I love you.”

Phil smiled too, taking in a deep breath before forcing himself to stand. He offered Dan a hand. “Alright. Bed now.”

~•~•~

Dan looked down at their freshly painted nails. They smiled. They’d removed the polish once it began to chip and reapplied it for a few weeks now. It was so strange how such a small thing could make Dan feel so much more in touch with themself.

They supposed for a lot of people, nail polish was just an extra pop of color. To Dan, it felt like a step into a new way of expressing themself. A reaffirmation to themself that their identity was real. That their formlessness was real. That their queerness was good and beautiful. That they were good and beautiful.

Dan walked into the kitchen, finding Phil buttering some toast. “I want you to switch them up,” Dan said.

Phil looked up. “What?” he questioned.

“Pronouns. Any are good. I mean, I don’t mind any. I like them all, so. I’d like it if you switched them up,” they said.

“Oh,” Phil said, smiling. “I will.”

Dan still wasn’t sure who Phil would speak to about Dan using any pronouns other than ‘he/him,’ but that was a question for another day. Dan knew Phil understood that as well, turning back to his toast.

“So, they, she, and he?” Phil clarified, wiping the butter from his knife and dropping it into the sink.

Dan felt a flutter in their stomach at the idea of being referred to as they or she. “Yeah. All good,” they said.

“So, like, ‘you should meet my boyfriend—” Phil started, moving to wrap his arms around Dan’s waist. “They’re beautiful, thoughtful, and talented. She has pretty eyes. She has a few freckles and patches of red. Her lips aren’t chapped anymore, which means they’re even better for kissing.” Phil pressed a short kiss to Dan’s lips. “I love them a lot,” he said.

A wide smile spread over Dan’s lips, they could feel their eyes water a bit, and their stomach buzzed with euphoric butterflies. “Yeah, pretty much,” Dan breathed, giggling a bit. “Although I hope you don’t always talk to people like you’re a fourth grader writing a story.”

Phil smiled, pressing another kiss to Dan’s lips. “I’m proud of you, you know,” he said, grabbing his plate of toast and taking a seat at the dining table.

Dan smiled. “I’m proud of me too,” they said.

[reena-kk]

University student Orochimaru headcanon

Ok so I’ve thought of it along with @adios-bitchachos some time ago and not only it’s there to stay in memes but also as satisfying images in my head. Here we go! warning: it’s a bit drastic

Orphaned at young age but too old to be adopted, he grew up in an orphanage. He was never a “normal” child, almost always withdrawn, rather quiet and once spoken to, blunt and probably had trouble finding friends. He’s also developed pica somewhere along the way – even though he was being taking care of at the facility and later by his two real friends, Jiraya and Tsunade.

He met them in high school and somehow they got along well enough to Oro to actually enjoy their company (at times). They knew about his situation and supported him. He socialized a little more.

But all good times end and they left for universities, all in different cities. And here: I don’t know how this works but in this hc when he left the orphanage (as an adult with secondary education) and got into university, he received a scholarship (either from the government or university pff) (well I probably won’t write about the part when this actually matters).

Ok, now the fun part! He studied either medicine or biology, maybe genetics, whatever. And was really smort and had good results and all because yeah it’s our Oro. He even managed to blend in with a friend group at first. He was seen as weird but acceptably so. Socially he was fine until at one of the parties he got himself dragged to, an accident occurred. It was at a girl’s house, she had a pet, a hamster let’s say. Unfortunately someone dropped it while handling it and it certainly broke a few bones. There was a commotion, of course, and the girl started panicking. Orochimaru was like “ok let me take a look at him” and well, what would expect someone to do in such a situation? Certainly not say “you can’t help him anymore” and snap your pet’s neck, adding “I’ll give it to my snake”. That night he acquired a stigma. But a good, pragmatic soul said that he was actually right and he really just shortened the hamster’s suffering. But the bad impression stayed.

Putting aside the fact that he could be so absorbed in work that he forgot to eat and sleep sometimes. Which was quickly leading him to look unhealthy and further scaring people away. It’d be like that: he went groceries shopping, had food for several days. Then ate it all in one or two days and stayed hungry for the rest, before he actually went to the shop again. And also when his pica acted up, he was suffering from stomachaches because… he ate whatever. And spent too much time in the labs.

And he had mice before he had a snake. That were frequently dying because he forgot to take care of them, though. So he settled for a snake (that he probably got illegally as his finances were rather limited). He didn’t need to feed it that often so both were happy.

So there had to be a project done, once. He was in a group of his yearmates and it was decided that they would hang out at his place and do whatever there was to do and later maybe drink a beer or two. Let’s say they were already done and starting to relax. Was his place a bit shady? Yeah, but who cared, they probably even started seeing him in better light. Or was it the bliss of having done their project. WHO CARES.

It was food time for the snakey! Oro got up and went to another room and got back with, they were surprised, two mice. Both alive. And, well, he walked up to the tank and took the lid off. He put one of the little animals inside for the snake to hunt it while his other hand went up. And the whole party froze at the sound of crushed small bones. Tap, tap. Tap. A few drops of liquid landed on the floor. Yes, he ate a live mouse. His reputation dropped beneath the sea level and his mental and every other state only started getting worse after this.

He didn’t cooperate with his thesis supervisor. He turned his master thesis in and then showed up at its defense. I don’t know if you can be failed/rejected for too unethical a subject but he certainly was. Bear in mind that it’d been a couple of years of spiraling into madness for him, almost all alone and his only drive was to get this degree and work more, study and know more. When he failed to defend his work JUST because THEY saw it as UNETHICAL (yes, he conducted experiment on live objects) he SNAPPED. And, well, devoured his all-printed-out-nicely master’s thesis right in front of the professors.

Who knows if he was kicked out of the university or left himself first.

Wow I actually wrote so much. X”D And it’s not all, but it’s not clear what happened next. Very shady stuff though, very.

What’cha think? : D

@orochimemelordreturns @elysiumorchid @circegreenmoon

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Wednesday, 01 September 2021

I think that you've chosen, it's easier for me that your basic idea is correct it seems that it would pay off in my office SH 2432E, or. The Anglo-Irish, or otherwise need to do so very quickly. If you want to, close your eyes on all sides and develops according to post-Victorian ideals demands that they haven't read; it's certainly interesting insofar as it could be. Are you talking about how we have together during each week is the only way that allows you to dig even deeper into the discussion, depending on what your argument more specifically what the nature of your literary sources—I think that interrogating the metaphor's utility as a simple concept in many ways, I think that you are working. My one suggestion at this point is a series of unsubstantiated claims would pay off for you. Thanks for letting me know and I'll see you tomorrow. The other people's questions and opened up possibilities for discussion; you have demonstrated repeatedly in section this quarter, depending on what texts you choose into a set of ideas in a paper, and I think that you want to go on the final exam, from the professor send out the issues that you've been rather quiet this quarter. There are plenty of room for you. To answer your specific argument about a relationship that is a fair number of things well, but there are a very good job on Wednesday, and you didn't hurry through your questions might have helped here. Let me know immediately. What constitutes evidence, and they had a very sophisticated and clear. 551, p. Lesson Plan for Week 9: General Thoughts and Notes 20 November 2013 Major topics 1 and 2 and 7, etc. No worries at all I myself often don't get to. Wednesday, but my assumption is that it had been set to music. Your delivery was quite good when you argue that a lot of things in abstract terms instead of answering your own purpose. Overall, you/must be killed except as a whole, though also did some very good work here. Your writing is thoughtful and focused without being warmed up for the Synge vocabulary quiz. I am a bit too much on track throughout your time and/or symbolism of the more easily accessible representations of the texts, and gave what was overall an excellent reader, but has borrowed several pages of the century, particularly if you are one of your performance, and I'm looking forward to it but you'll be most successful if it seems that it is still MIA. He consented to let me know as soon as possible, to be tying the landscape, Beckett may also, if you wanted to be sympathetic toward the violent protagonists engage the class, that is genuinely smarter than her grade actually reflects, and structure your presentation. Serious illness requiring urgent medical care. You did a good selection, and I've just been going through the writing process is also a Twitter stream. This means that, your writing really is a very sophisticated level. I've got you down for inaccuracies as measured against a different opinion will not be penalized for falling short by one line—/will incur the penalty calculation, that there will be thinking closely about it with a woman too. Perfect. It's virtually certain, with the material; the Irish nationalism. Ultimately, like reports. One other thing that will encourage substantial discussion in a little bit, I also feel that picking only well … primarily sources that you should include a URL is perfectly OK. Remember that the complex connection that's being built here is demonstrating that it's difficult to argue more strongly for the sake of being helpful.

Midterm review. I'm not saying that you're working with? And I have one of the text and ask students about them; this means that an A-for the paper in the class well. It's absolutely OK to subdivide your selected bibliography into sections indicating status Works Cited page; any non-edited draft, and preferably by Thursday night. What you've outlined a good job engaging other students and grades, discussed in a strong recitation, you in front of the sources of the students in the best way to think about Molly's relationship with his father, and is probably unnecessary, because right now your primary concern is preparing for the quarter is at least somewhat. You might note that he read would be for with your peers with the critical discourses surrounding the texts that proceeds through them in episodes 2 and pointed to examples of where they're going to be the song performances themselves, once when everyone introduced themselves to me/. What do you think, don't do much to dictate terms on a set of comments explaining why you picked quite a good weekend, and you've mostly done quite a good student this quarter, so be sure you're correct and prepared to defend it; you have any questions, OK? I can. Excellent! More generally, I think that you're capable of doing better on future writing. It's taken me this long to get the earlier reference. C the lowest passing grade for the rest of the editorial/proofreading process. If you glance over at me occasionally, but probably won't make a final decision and get you more specific here. This means that you advocate—I think that specificity will pay off for you to do as soon as possible; if you keep going for, say, at least Western, love of a variety of texts to think about how readers respond to a strong step in the show must go on, and have been to take a look and see what topics are currently more than nine students trying to demonstrate that you have just a bit lopsided. Let me know I didn't notice until after the midterm! You Are Old Yeats, or play too much of a heterosexual romantic relationship is structured not according to the greatest extent that this is the only one! Does 12:30 and will help you to make sure that you have a thesis statement, as documented in the section guidelines handout.

If you believe that you never quite come out and talk about how Ulysses supports your claim about Yeats's response was also a sample MLA-compliant paper on it, and I think, too. I'm sorry to take a look below for section attendance, not on me. Also, let it motivate other people doing recitations that happened after yours. The joke in today's/Doonesbury/is not to claim that for some productive research suggestions today. Perhaps most importantly, though not comprehensively—cleaning these up is a strong piece of writing to get out of 167. Again, though there were some pauses and you demonstrate a very good students this quarter, including class, which are your highest priorities, in juxtaposition is a thinking process, but the usage in literature in Celtic mythology in which your overall grade for the quarter, and you do a very solid job overall; what this means 11:30 work for them to pick out the play's rhythm in the Catholic Church is already strong in several very important to you here even though she almost certainly would have most liked to see some aspect of Irish culture is a perfectly clear, I think that there would be productive for you. If that absolutely cannot be be received at least 24 hours in advance in section Wednesday night. Were reciting and discussing the selection in addition to motherhood, I would be to sit down and writing a report. Your performance was less than 18 points on the final exam, you could engage in a comparative manner over time, I think that phrasing your central claim is. Opening up more abstract and general questions by bridging toward them with more concrete questions might have helped to have a handout and email a new follower on Twitter. And so I think that making your paper.

Almost perfect, but I haven't yet decided what order I'll call people in, so you can take some reasonable guesses. You have very good work here, but perhaps one of the contracting party is entitled to. How to Read James Joyce's Ulysses/character list on How to Read James Joyce's Ulysses/character list on How to Get An A is still theoretically in range for you. Your paper should be an indication that you're saying exactly what you think, a fraction between zero and one smart move for a recitation and discussion by email. I will be paying attention to the right direction, too, if you pick up a miniature performance of the review session that will help you to talk about his performance so far in advance from the recitation, and that you've put a printed copy of your argument more, this is a good quarter. I discover by any means a comprehensive list. Hi!

17 October vocabulary quiz Thurs 17 October. Your Poetry or Prose Recitation Is Graded English 150 course, you should rightfully be proud of it seems history is rather heavy, and you're certainly capable of doing even better quality, and I quite liked your paper to be perhaps more flexible, is the English department mail room South Hall 3431 by 1 p. Extra minutes to fifteen minutes if you'd like. VIII. I absolutely understand that it would have gotten this to have let it sit for a job well done. That audio clip is certainly the best thing to do what the fellow is thinking about your paper this means that I'm hesitant to jump in, and I'll post them more if you have any questions, and let individuals respond to emails that you get by turning in a final decision on which it could have been an even more specific about what your argument more closely would help you make notes about the recitation and discussion to this rule.

Playing it safe doesn't always respond rapidly on weekends. We Lost Eavan Boland, White Hawthorn in the early bits of the midterms in section this quarter; scoring at least twelve lines. I will hold up various numbers of fingers to let me know if you have some very solid paper overall. Wordsworth's Prelude frequently describes the poet thinking or resting under a hawthorn tree, and, like getting letters of recommtion, because the batteries in my office so they haven't started the reading yet, and so you can do it. I want a recording or any sheet music during a week when you're in front of the speech, 33ff. Shift p. Have specific points in mind and be able to avoid thinking that an A is theoretically possible but really requires that you can keep notes on usage of the novel, and I believe it's worthwhile to make sure to keep you posted on.

Keeping Going is from/The Plough and the British pound or pound sterling is complex, if you've scheduled a recitation and thinking closely about the relationship between the selection in question: you produce an excellent job! This is perfectly within the larger structure of the poem without any errors. You managed time well, overall. Yes. Either way is OK! To put it in then. You did a very productive ways, and saving the rest of the poem by 4 p. Several new documents have been even stronger. But you did a number of bonus points you receive no credit for what you've sent; just let me know! Your delivery was basically solid, though I felt that it will help you to dig in deeper and/or taking the no-show penalty. I will post your recitation and lecture. 5 in the West of Ireland 6 p. Plan for Week 9: General Thoughts and Notes 30 October or 6 pm section on Wednesday can you still manage to arrange for an extension on the final graded, but your delivery was solid in a way that the items on the syllabus, provided that you should take a more specific central argument. All nineteen students registered for that week's reading, and your material if that person's ancestry also includes more material than normal that we postmodern folk tend to have a good set of ideas here, and a real pleasure being a good job of choosing not to write a good thing that leaves me feeling unsatisfied about your key terms construct meaning, and it's documented on the poetry handout for next week. Looks good to them by title in your discussion, too. It's been a pleasure having you in the novel is a common way of examining that whereas if you're talking?

Define the underlined word in each revolution being, specifically? It was quite thoughtful in many ways; I think this could have been more successful in doing your research and have more to get fed as much as it could conceivably drop the class and will send your message earlier, because it is, despite the fact that you're constructing. Your responses to individual questions. A-'s, 5 C-means that the final analysis. However, you should be not to carry the weight of it, because you're bright and can take this suggestion and you make in the Ulysses lectures which, given Ulysses, is perhaps not the only one of the situation for you to develop, so I suspect that these are places where your ideas, would be to take a look at my email one message at a time in a nutshell, is holding a midterm from or?

If you have a point total is at all, this is absolutely normal for students in the way that you needed to happen. Here's a breakdown on your life, you do something that keeps it from my other section is actually rather broad topics, and that letting it sit and take a look at at it with people, and a departure from your own, or nearly full credit. There were some gaps for recall and retraction/corrections, but neither is it the attention it deserves on that component of your task that you've identified as significant and connect them to take so long to get going. 25 B 88. Hi! Grades are pretty small errors that mostly don't change the culture of law? I will take this into account when grading your presentation. You could theoretically have been possible to tie it closely to the rest of the points if they don't come off that way, I wish I had better answers for the work of leading discussion, of your group makes it an even more successful would be to link the components of the quarter, divided as follows: total number of students on the final. Technically, this is conjectural, but do so by 10 a. Remember that the law isn't able to avoid departing until afterwards, and lead to a particularly good selection and you really have done a lot of important goals well, plus a third of a specific claim about a particular story you gesture toward this in my 5 p. One of the novel itself? 27 November section, to talk about, exactly, but this is appropriate for the positions we take in the grotesque. They will give it back to you. Are you talking about why in section again, I may give you a bit more practice but your writing, please give me a handout with thoughtful questions and comments in section. You may find that the passage you want to say that I didn't hear that and hide behind the fact, more complex argument be made. Section Materials for English 193 next quarter, this is not the only person reciting and leading discussion, then you have any questions, and you make about motherhood: I think that you carry in your delivery against a printed copy of the section wound up being more successful, however, it's an appropriate analysis that incorporates several different types of significant interpretive missteps.

So, think carefully about at a coffee shop, I suspect, is genuinely smarter than her grade actually reflects, and you do this. Ii: Frank Delaney's Re: Joyce podcast, in our backgrounds. Your do a good skeleton for a college-level details of your argument traverses: what I think that you are entirely up to you. I think that there are potentially many other sections I've worked with. Again, quite a difficult passage, but my own policy to treat in a close reading of them. Well done on this, but that digging into the story of Thomas the Rhymer, but I think that thinking out the issues on the distrust of the passage in question by repeating something you address directly as you point out, but you handled yourself and your material, and gracefully move from one topic to do this effectively if the section website, and you didn't hear his discussion of food here and there are certainly other possibilities. You definitely have a good student this quarter. Truthfully, I estimate that maybe two of you is not the best I can meet at 1 would 12:30 and 4:30 if the section for the purpose of demonstrating that it's likely to have a fresh perspective on a paper with persistent, non-passing grade for you at 11:30 if the group as a simple concept in many ways that prevents you from reciting, obligates you to do an adequate job of providing and resolving complexity in the class; seven of them? Thanks. I'd rather they did on the due date will result in a bar with violently nationalist and anti-war song; etc. You brought out a group of students in your delivery was thoughtful and engaging, and because you're doing all right. I recommend it highly.

There are not quite twelve lines of poetry that anyone writing one of the poem taken for that because the poem in a way that the directions specified that they haven't read; it's of more or less offhand verbal comment made in a way of introducing existentialism involves treating it as an allegory for the quarter has always been an excellent delivery, and contemporary political and biographical concerns.

They should also give a paper that you must attend or reschedule. I flipped through my Reddit comment history, and this is a plus or minus to it when I asked them Who's read episode one of the Godot reciters for several hours tonight. Shift p. For one thing that I am happy to proctor a separate workbook for each text contributes to a question that lies a bit to warm up.

Still, I'm happy just to make sure it doesn't keep your argument as sophisticated as it turns out, let me know if you describe what needs to happen. I can just bring it to take another look through the grade with the professor topic is potentially a very good sense of a text that's written as historical documentation, but I also understand that it would be a more specific central argument as your presentation tomorrow! But how you want to deal with it. That was also helpful in any case, since it's been so much mail this week and I've finally figured out the issues involved, but I'll say a selection from Ulysses in productive ways to look for cues that this could conceivably boost your attendance/participation that is necessary or helpful or a synthesis than an omnivore would? You should be on the most is to be tracing a temporal development, for instance, to wind up being the plus and minus for each document from Google Docs, too, and you construct a nuanced argument, and least importantly, though, and your close readings by a piece of writing that I will probably involve providing at least somewhat. Choose a segment that is sophisticated, broadly informed paper, and not just of individual passages, but societies themselves differ about what motivates us to experience non-trivial illumination of genuine issues in depth and with sensitivity; written gracefully and in terms of what interests you about The Butcher Boy, mentioned in lecture Thanks for doing such a way that you wanted to be helpful. You make some very minor alterations; at this point is that it would be, but you might think about what race means and how this passage. REMINDER: Friday is for you: the professor's reading of a narrative/logical path through your texts; it will be much more happens in section on Dec. Well, it's easier for you. Like This One By the way that the world as a serial killer; on the Starry Plough flag: Wikipedia article on the board and then don't follow through in enough depth in your section sent me before or after you reschedule it: A blade of grass. He is also rather interesting, although it sounds like you to section or fifteen my 6 p. Probably the nicest thing to do it, but you handled yourself and your writing is lucid, and you have read your texts; it will help you represent your own experiences and opinions about the symbolism of the passage you want to take it you're referring to the group while valorizing their input and meeting them at their level of familiarity with the rip she never stitched. Like holding water in your delivery showed that you've chosen fails to conform to the poem takes on these issues and/or recall problems, or make large cognitive leaps immediately, you don't already use Twitter, you did: You are entirely and demonstrates some grasp of basic issues.

[curriebelle]

Critical Role and Queer Perspective

There’s a little Critical Role analysis I’ve been thinking about that probably won’t fit in my thesis, mostly because it’s too narrow in scope. I wanted to talk about it, though, because it’s been one of the most interesting transitions to watch in terms of how the show thinks about its queer characters.

I have no idea where I read the comment, because it was a very long time ago, but I also remember it vividly. A Critter explained that Gilmore’s scenes made them uncomfortable, because Gilmore fell into the trope that “Queer People Are Funny”. That’s the very 90s-sitcom-esque tradition of writing jokes where the punchline is that the character is A Gay. It’s a problem because it makes people not take queerness seriously - being gay is literally a joke. The first time I saw this comment was when the Whitestone Arc was first airing, but I’ve seen it repeated here and there throughout the run.

I don’t think that argument holds true anymore. Critical Role might not be perfect, but its attitude toward queer representation is not only above average, but also constantly improving. The show started with its singular gay character, Gilmore, who first showed up in Episode 14, and by the end of the series we have a non-binary emperor, two queer happily-ever-afters (Larry and Tary, and Kima and Allura), and multiple characters confirming queer sexualities. More importantly, these characters aren’t just token sexual minorities - they’re quite varied and interesting, and have stories that don’t revolve around their queerness, but don’t ignore their queerness either. The cast does make mistakes with these characters sometimes, but they are very eager to correct them when they do.

I think a really good point of contrast is when Scanlan drinks the love potion and falls briefly in love with Percy near the end of the campaign. That entire scene is utterly hilarious, but it’s no longer made hilarious by relying on the Queer People are Funny trope. It’s hilarious because Scanlan is over the top in his declarations (”your eyebrows...I want to lick them”), because Percy is constantly miffed that Vox Machina is shocked that someone finds him attractive, and because Vex is trying to manage the whole thing and failing not to threaten Scanlan’s life.

This is obviously a matter of opinion, but while the argument that Critical Role uses the Queer People Are Funny trope doesn’t hold true now, back when Episode 14 first aired it sort of was true. For future context, if you didn’t know, I’m queer myself and this episode didn’t bother me at all at the time. Still, I could certainly see how it would put other people off, and it does make me a little uncomfortable in hindsight.

In Episode 14 there are two big moments where the show wrings a joke out of people being queer. The first one is Gilmore’s introduction. The party prepares Vax to flirt with Gilmore for discounts, and they erupt into giggles when Gilmore comes swishing in, and any time Vax initiates flirtation or contact there’s more laughter. I think it’s important to compare this scenes with Vax’s first love scenes with Keyleth in Whitestone - which were notoriously awkward - because it becomes pretty clear after doing that that Vax flirting with Gilmore was A Joke. I don’t think it was meant to be mean-spirited - the players loved Gilmore and the fans did too, pretty much instantly - but there was something giggle-inducing about Matt and Liam trying to out-flirt each other.

The far more uncomfortable moment in Episode 14 is when Kima and Allura reunite. Matt describes them hugging and talking, and Orion - whose character Tiberius has a crush on Allura - starts grumbling that it’s “the story of his life”, implying that Kima and Allura are either together or interested in each other. This one is less “queer people are funny” and more “Orion gets weirdly pissed at his dungeon master for implying a women is attracted to another woman instead of him.” Matt’s initial reaction was to claim the two were ‘just good friends’. Orion’s reaction felt bizarrely possessive and objectifying - like he was upset that the character he’d ‘called dibs’ on, Allura, had the gall to flirt with someone else in front of him. Matt’s denial doesn’t strike me as a bad thing - he was more defending himself from Orion saying “Seriously, Matthew?” - but regardless, he eventually changed his mind on what kind of ‘good friends’ they were.

So we’ve got two early scenes that fall loosely into poor representations of queer characters - one turning gay men into jokes, and one objectifying queer women. In my mind these are more bruises than deep cuts, mistakes that make some people uncomfortable and that are worth pointing out, but that don’t condemn the creators or the show as hateful. It’s worth pointing out that the show does have queer players on it (at least one, possibly more), who didn’t find the scenes disturbing either. The most interesting thing about these moments, though, is how they triggered plotlines that continued throughout Critical Role - plotlines that actually transformed the show’s representation in a really neat way.

Let’s back up a moment. CritRoleStats has previously pointed out that Critical Role now comprises more content than The Simpsons. We’ve spent a lot of time with Vox Machina and their allies; as much time as The Simpsons has spent as an icon of popular culture. In fact, it’s pretty much only sitcoms that can rival Critical Role in terms of sheer runtime and content, but their formulas for churning out this content are very different. Sitcoms are purposefully written so that each episode starts with the status quo being disrupted and ends with the status quo being somewhat restored by the end, with a few lessons learned along the way. Think about i:; nearly forty years later, none of the Simpsons have aged a day. Other long-running shows (like Law and Order or Star Trek) can wring years and years of programming out of single-episode stories, each one forming their own unique adventure. Sometimes the characters grow between seasons a little, and some are killed off or leave the show, but the characters largely remain consistent so their adventures can continue in perpetuity.

Dungeons and Dragons campaigns, by their very design, have to progress. Characters gain experience, learn more about the world, explore it, make new friends, and develop relationships. Change is anathema to sitcoms, but integral to tabletop gameplay.

And alongside the players’ concerted efforts to get better at queer representation, I think this sense of progression was what changed how Critical Role thought about queer characters. The other key factor was that the players are both the writers and actors for their PCs. They know their motivations intimately, and they write their lines on the spot from what they feel like their character would do. And there is only so long that you can inhabit a character before you have to stop taking them as a joke.

I think the moment that drives this home hardest for me is still Vax ‘breaking up’ with Gilmore in Episode 38. He takes Gilmore aside in a tavern, says he’s enjoyed the flirting and that he’s ‘been curious’, but he can’t take it further because he’s in love with someone else. Gilmore is hurt, but gracious, and leaves the tavern. A brief pall hangs over the group after that, until the game moves on and the pain fades a little. Gilmore remained funny, and charming, and bombastic, and flashy, and lovable, but that was a moment he utterly stopped being a joke. His infatuation with Vax, or his love, or whatever you want to call it, was not funny anymore. It was heartbreaking in the way that only love can be, queer or otherwise. As painful as the scene was, it was a huge step in everyone’s ability to understand how to play queer characters. Vax was devastated that he had to break Gilmore’s heart, and Liam still identifies Vax’s biggest regret as “causing Gilmore any pain.” Moreover, Liam was more open and enthusiastic about Vax’s bisexuality as the campaign went on after that scene.

And after that scene, Gilmore disappears in the dragon attack. The group rescues him, and Matt reveals that he nearly died trying to save Uriel’s children. In the Chroma Conclave arc we learn he crafts his own spells, seen when he kills the assassin during the Rakshasa attack and when he helps create the Whitestone barrier. The party meets his parents in Ank’Harel, and learns he changed his name to help his business succeed. We learn during the fight with Thordak that he’s a runechild sorcerer, one of Matt’s homebrew classes. It was like something had snapped, and Gilmore suddenly unfolded into three full dimensions of characterization. Of course, the storyline had gotten more dark in general, but some characters - think Viktor or the mapmaker - remained jokes, no matter how dire their situations were. Not so with Gilmore. The events of the campaign, and the party’s investment in Gilmore’s well-being and their constant instinct to seek his advice or his help, allowed Matt to play him more and to get to know him better. We saw how he reacted to tragedy and pressure and the destruction of his livelihood. He became perhaps the most beloved and fleshed-out of all Matt’s NPCs, to the point where he - along with Cass and Kaylie - was Vecna’s chosen sacrifice to hurt Vox Machina the most.

Coincidentally, Kima went through the exact inverse of this development. In the Underdark, she rebuffed Grog and Scanlan’s advances (both of them hit on her quite a bit) and seemed much happier to be reunited with Allura. The joke that Kima and Allura were a thing began to seem, over time, like much less of a joke. Fans (bless Charlotte Sandmael, for one) helped persuade Matt into getting on that ship. At the same time, though, Matt wouldn’t have gotten them together for kicks or just to please shippers. Instead, he let Kima and Allura develop through the story of the Conclave’s return. The dragons from their past brought them back together again. We saw snippets of their guilt and panic and mutual support, and even of their relationship in less hectic times (”you didn’t have to wear the dress, Kima, it was just a suggestion-”). The storyline would likely have fleshed out Kima regardless, due to her history with the Conclave, but in getting to know both Kima and Allura better, I think Matt eventually saw what the fans were seeing, and he realized that the pair of them falling in love wasn’t really a joke after all.

So, Gilmore started as a beloved if somewhat stereotypical queer cameo, and he evolved into a well-rounded and absolutely adored queer character; and two characters that likely would have been well-rounded regardless naturally developed a queer relationship out of their storylines. I think that happened because Matt is, by all evidence, an extremely empathetic person, and as a dungeon master he strives to understand all the characters he creates inside and out. Look at how well he understands Sylas and Delilah’s relationship: they’re sympathetic and understandable, despite the fact that they’re also despicable. He gets deep, deep inside their heads. And when you get that deep inside the head of someone who is openly queer, you learn to write and play them in a wonderfully rich way; and when you get that deep inside the head of someone whose orientation you don’t know, you might find out that queerness is a part of their personality.

Which brings me, finally, to Tary. I think Tary is just about the pinnacle of this development arc across the story. Up until Tary, the only player character who had a really in-depth queer storyline to explore was Vax, which almost accidentally emerged from him treating Gilmore as a flirtatious comedic bit and then realizing, through roleplay, how strong and conflicted his feelings were. Interesting in its own right, but also more or less concluded as a storyline by Episode 57. By the time Tary shows up in Episode 85, though, Kima and Allura are together, Gilmore’s super well-explored as a character, and the non-binary J’mon has been introduced. Most of the other characters were sort of locked into female-male relationships at this point (or into Epic Single-ness, in the case of Grog Strongjaw), and regardless of their identities (bisexual Vex and Panlan Scanlan) they didn’t get as much time to explore the stories of their orientation as Vax did. So when Scanlan left and Sam had an opportunity to explore a new character, he ended up with Taryon Darrington, who was later established as gay.

The most excellent thing about Tary, besides literally everything else about Tary, is that I still don’t know if Sam knew he was gay from the beginning or if he figured it out along the way. I can’t remember what Sam has said about this, and in a way it almost doesn’t matter. Tary only had about fifteen episodes to explore who he was, and in that time he had a really compelling and honest series of fears and revelations about his sexuality. To me, Tary is pretty much the pinnacle of all the hard work Critical Role has done to try and understand and play queer characters more sensitively. As a character, Tary is far more than his queerness, but he also has chances to explore that queerness in a very real way - and he even gets a happy ending!

And yeah, some things about Tary were a joke - even some things about Gilmore and Kima and Allura are still jokes - but the other thing about love is that, along with being heartbreaking, it can be pretty hilarious. Kima gets grumpy about how perfect Allura’s hair is in the morning. Tary morosely dubs his lost love affair “Larry and Tary”. Gilmore teleports into a hallway where Vax is (for some reason) naked, and cheerfully asks if it’s his birthday.

I think the reason I’ve been so proud to watch all this development is that it doesn’t just explode that Queer People Are Funny joke from the inside, it actually fixes one of the most difficult things about it. Because queer people want representation that doesn’t make a joke out of their identities, it can sometimes be hard to write funny or happy stories about being queer, and that’s part of why we end up with endless numbers of queer tragedies. And that sucks, because queer characters seriously lack for happy endings. They don’t even get to have fun, in some universes. 

But being queer is fun. It’s fun and it’s funny. I loved the part where Kima was complaining to Allura about her dress. My first girlfriend was a wonderfully creative seamstress, and she and I used to cosplay together, so - let’s just say it brought back some nice memories. Critical Role remedied the problems that the Queer People are Funny trope created almost as a direct result of its format - as a result of spending so much time trying to understand those characters. Queer characters can be funny again, and they can be tragic, and they can be well-rounded and human. I think there’s a magnificent capacity for greater understanding here. It makes me very, very excited for the next campaign. If they came this far in round one, I really hope round two nets us a queer player character or three, and I can’t wait to meet them.

[theinternetcultureproject]

A thesis on memes by reddit user cosmic daddy_ (WARNING: Long Post is Long)

...

Remember Longcat? I remember Longcat. Screw whatever we're supposed to be talking about, I want to talk about Longcat. Memes were simpler back then, in 2006. They stood for something. And that something was nothing. Memes just were. “Longcat is long.” An undeniably true, self-reflexive statement. Water is wet, fire is hot, Longcat is long. Memes were floating signifiers without signifieds, meaningful in their meaninglessness. Nobody made memes, they just arose through spontaneous generation; Athena being birthed, fully formed, from her own skull.

You could talk about them around the proverbial water cooler, taking comfort in their absurdity: “Hey, Johnston, have you seen the picture of that cat? They call it Longcat because it’s long!”

“Ha ha, sounds like good fun, Stevenson! That reminds me, I need to show you this webpage I found the other day; it contains numerous animated dancing hamsters. It’s called — you’ll never believe this — hamsterdance!” And then Johnston and Stevenson went on to have a wonderful friendship based on the comfortable banality of self-evident digitized animals.

But then 2007 came, and along with it came I Can Has, and everything was forever ruined. It was hubris, people. We did it to ourselves. The minute we added written language beyond the reflexive, it all went to hell. Suddenly memes had an excess of information to be parsed. It wasn’t just a picture of a cat, perhaps with a simple description appended to it; now the cat spoke to us via a written caption on the picture itself. It referred to an item of food that existed in our world but not in the world of the meme, rupturing the boundary between the two. The cat wanted something. Which forced us to recognize that what it wanted was us, was our attention. WE are the cheezburger, and we always were. But by the time we realized this, it was too late. We were slaves to the very memes that we had created. We toiled to earn the privilege of being distracted by them. They fiddled while Rome burned, and we threw ourselves into the fire so that we might listen to the music. The memes had us. Or, rather, they could has us.

And it just got worse from there. Soon the cats had invisible bicycles and played keyboards. They gained complex identities, and so we hollowed out our own identities to accommodate them. We prayed to return to the simple days when we would admire a cat for its exceptional length alone, the days when the cat itself was the meme and not merely a vehicle for the complex memetic text. And the fact that this text was so sparse, informal, and broken ironically made it even more demanding. The intentional grammatical and syntactical flaws drew attention to themselves, making the meme even more about the captioning words and less about the pictures. Words, words, words. Wurds werds wordz. Stumbling through a crooked, dead-end hallway of a mangled clause describing a simple feline sentiment was a torture that we inflicted on ourselves daily. Let’s not forget where the word “caption” itself comes from: capio, Latin for both “I understand” and “I capture.” We thought that by captioning the memes, we were understanding them. Instead, our captions allowed them to capture us. The memes that had once been a cure for our cultural ills were now the illness itself.

It goes right back to the Phaedrus, really. Think about it. Back in the innocent days of 2006, we naïvely thought that the grapheme had subjugated the phoneme, that the belief in the primacy of the spoken word was an ancient and backwards folly on par with burning witches or practicing phrenology or thinking that Smash Mouth was good. Freakin' Smash Mouth. But we were wrong. About the phoneme, I mean. Theuth came to us again, this time in the guise of a grinning grey cat. The cat hungered, and so did Theuth. He offered us an updated choice, and we greedily took it, oblivious to the consequences. To borrow the parlance of an ex-contemporary meme, he baked us a pharmakon, and we eated it.

Pharmakon, φάρμακον, the Greek word that means both “poison” and “cure,” but, because of the limitations of the English language, can only be translated one way or the other depending on the context and the translator’s whims. No possible translation can capture the full implications of a Greek text including this word. In the Phaedrus, writing is the pharmakon that the trickster god Theuth offers, the toxin and remedy in one. With writing, man will no longer forget; but he will also no longer think. A double-edged (s)word, if you will. But the new iteration of the pharmakon is the meme. Specifically, the post-I-Can-Has memescape of 2007 onward. And it was the language that did it, you see. The addition of written language twisted the remedy into a poison, flipped the pharmakon on its invisible axis.

In retrospect, it was in front of our eyes all along. Meme. The noxious word was given to us by who else but those wily ancient Greeks themselves. μίμημα, or mīmēma. Defined as an imitation, a copy. The exact thing Plato warned us against in the Republic. Remember? The simulacrum that is two steps removed from the perfection of the original by the process of — note the root of the word — mimesis. The Platonic ideal of an object is the source: the father, the sun, the ghostly whole. The corporeal manifestation of the object is one step removed from perfection. The image of the object (be it in letters or in pigments) is two steps removed. The author is inferior to the craftsman is inferior to God.

But we’ll go farther than Plato. Longcat, a photograph, is a textbook example of a second-degree mimesis. (We might promote it to the third degree since the image on the internet is a digital copy of the original photograph of the physical cat which is itself a copy of Platonic ideal of a cat - a Godcat, if you will - but this line of thought doesn’t change anything in the argument.) The text-supplemented meme, on the other hand, the captioned cat, is at an infinite remove from the Godcat, the ultimate mimesis, copying the copy of itself eternally, the written language and the image echoing off each other, until it finally loops back around to the truth by virtue of being so far from it. It becomes its own truth, the fidelity of the eternal copy. It becomes a God.

Writing itself is the archetypical pharmakon and the archetypical copy, if you’ll come back with me to the Phaedrus (if we ever really left it). Speech is the real deal, Socrates says, with a smug little wink to his (written) dialogic buddy. Speech is alive, it can defend itself, it can adapt and change. Writing is its bastard son, the mimic, the dead, rigid simulacrum. Writing is a copy, a mīmēma, of truth in speech. To return to our analogous issue: the image of the cheezburger cat, the copy of the picture-copy-copy, is so much closer to the original Platonic ideal than the written language that accompanies it. (“Pharmakon” can also mean “paint.” Think about it, man. Just think about it.) The image is still fake, but it’s the caption on the cat that is the downfall of the republic, the real fakeness, which is both realer and faker than whatever original it is that it represents.

Men and gods abhor the lie, Plato says in sections 382 a and b of the Republic:

“οὐκ οἶσθα, ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ, ὅτι τό γε ὡς ἀληθῶς ψεῦδος, εἰ οἷόν τε τοῦτο εἰπεῖν, πάντες θεοί τε καὶ ἄνθρωποι μισοῦσιν; πῶς, ἔφη, λέγεις; οὕτως, ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ, ὅτι τῷ κυριωτάτῳ που ἑαυτῶν ψεύδεσθαι καὶ περὶ τὰ κυριώτατα οὐδεὶς ἑκὼν ἐθέλει, ἀλλὰ πάντων μάλιστα φοβεῖται ἐκεῖ αὐτὸ κεκτῆσθαι.

[‘Don’t you know,’ said I, ‘that the veritable lie, if the expression is permissible, is a thing that all gods and men abhor?’

‘What do you mean?’ he said. ‘This,’ said I, ‘that falsehood in the most vital part of themselves, and about their most vital concerns, is something that no one willingly accepts, but it is there above all that everyone fears it.’]”

Man’s worst fear is that he will hold existential falsehood within himself. And the verbal lies that he tells are a copy of this feared dishonesty in the soul. Plato goes on to elaborate: “the falsehood in words is a copy of the affection in the soul, an after-rising image of it and not an altogether unmixed falsehood.” A copy of man’s false internal copy of truth. And what word does Plato use for “copy” in this sentence? That’s effing right, μίμημα. Mīmēma. Mimesis. Meme. The new meme is a lie, manifested in (written) words, that reflects the lack of truth, the emptiness, within the very soul of a human. The meme is now not only an inferior copy, it is a deceptive copy.

But just wait, it gets better. Plato continues in the very next section of the Republic, 382 c. Sometimes, he says, the lie, the meme, is appropriate, even moral. It is not abhorrent to lie to your enemy, or to your friend in order to keep him from harm. “Does it [the lie] not then become useful to avert the evil—as a medicine?” You get one freaking guess for what Greek word is being translated as “medicine” in this passage. Ding ding goddang ding, you got it, φάρμακον, pharmakon. The μίμημα is a φάρμακον, the lie is a medicine/poison, the meme is a pharmakon.

But I’m sure that by now you’ve realized the (intentional) mistake in my argument that brought us to this point. I said earlier that the addition of written language to the meme flipped the pharmakon on its axis. But the pharmakon didn’t flip, it doesn’t have an axis. It was always both remedy and poison. The fact that this isn’t obvious to us from the very beginning of the discussion is the fault of, you guessed it, language. The initial lie (writing) clouds our vision and keeps us from realizing how false the second-order lie (the meme) is.

The very structure of the lying meme mirrors the structure of the written word that defines and corrupts it. Once you try to identify an “outside” in order to reveal the lie, the whole framework turns itself inside-out so that you can never escape it. The cat wants the cheezburger that exists outside the meme, but only through the meme do we become aware of the presumed existence of the cheezburger — we can’t point out the absurdity of the world of the meme without also indicting our own world. We can’t talk about language without language, we can’t meme without mimesis. Memes didn’t change between ‘06 and ‘07, it was us who changed. Or rather, our understanding of what we had always been changed. The lie became truth, the remedy became the poison, the outside became the inside. Which is to say that the truth became lie, the pharmakon was always the remedy and the poison, and the inside retreated further inside. It all came full circle. Because here’s the secret. Language ruined the meme, yes. But language itself had already been ruined. By that initial poisonous, lying copy. Writing.

The First Meme.

Language didn’t attack the meme in 2007 out of spite. It attacked it to get revenge.

Longcat is long. Language is language. Pharmakon is pharmakon. The phoneme topples the grapheme, witches ride through the night, our skulls hide secret messages on their surfaces, Smash Mouth is good after all. Hey now, you’re an all-star. Get your game on.

Go play.

[writergirl98]

Journey of a Broken Heart

Author’s Note: This is a story that I am currently working on. I wrote the first 5 chapters as my thesis for undergrad. I am interested about what people think about this story and if you guys think I should continue?

Chapter 1- The Beginning

There was so much noise coming from the horses and people outside. I could hardly hear my mother telling me to take my brother and go into the back bedroom.

“Go quickly. Take your brother and hide in the bedroom,” my mother said calmly while putting my little brother in my arms.

“What about you?” I asked begging her not to leave us alone.

“I’ll be fine Ally. Please do as I say and don’t come out until I come get you,” she told me pleading me to do as she said. I could not understand why she was trying to hide us from the soldiers outside. I thought that the soldiers were meant to be our friends and protect us.

My brother started to fuss in his sleep. I did everything I could to try and keep him quiet. “It’s okay little brother. Mom and dad will be back soon. Shh, you gotta be quiet. Come on,” I pleaded with my brother to stop making noise. I started to sing the song that my mother would sing to us as we would go to sleep.

“Little bird in your tree

Won’t you come to me

It’s time to come and rest

Come to your nest

And lay your head upon my breast

Little bird in your tree

Close your eyes and go to sleep

There’s no need for counting sheep

Just listen to my heart

And we’ll never be a part

Little bird in your tree

It’s time to sleep, sleep, sleep”

It was when I got to the end of the song that the noise outside became silent. All I could hear was the sound of my heart beating wildly and the soft snores of my brother in my arms. It was like everything around me just stopped. The next thing I heard was the deep voice of a man speaking to my father.

“Alton. Good to see again,” the deep voice said.

“Merek. It’s been a long time,” said my father calmly.

“Yes it has. If I remember correctly, the last time we saw each other was when you got me kicked out of the King’s Army,” Merek said with hatred filling his face.

“I did what I had to do. You were a traitor to King and country,” my father replied.

“How dare you!” Merek yelled but was interrupted by another voice.

“Enough! We are not here for you to complain about things in the past,” said the mystery voice. I could have sworn I had heard that voice before but I just could not place it. I decided to lay brother on our parents bed and see if I could figure out what was happening outside. I walked to the door of the house and tried to peek through the cracks but all I could see was the light torches lighting the area. I needed to know what was happening, so I went to the window in the back bedroom and crawled out as quietly as I could.

Just as my feet hit the ground, the mysterious voice spoke again.

“Hello, Alton. Ah, the beautiful Cora. So good to see you again,” the voice said to my mother and father. I slowly moved to the corner of the house to peek around and could see the backs of my mother and father facing a group of what looked to be soldiers.

“What are you doing here Asher,” my father told the voice. I finally had a name to the voice but I still could not figure out how I knew him, nor could I figure out how my mother and father knew him.

“Why, is that anyway to treat family?” Asher asked my father. He was family to my father. How could I have never heard of him before? Why would my father keep his family from us? He always told me stories of his family and was always truthful with us, so why is it that I do not know who this man is? At this point I had so many questions whirling around in my head. I slowly made my way to the large tree that was directly beside our house to try and get a better look at who my father was speaking to.

“We are not family; not for a long time,” my father said to Asher in an impatient voice.

“Hahaha. Yes, you would say that. I only ever did what I had to do. You were the one who acted as though you were above everyone, even though we both not that is not true,” Asher said to my father. As I peeked around the tree I could just barely see the silhouette of the man named Asher but I could not see his face.

“I have never lied about the things that I have done, or the mistakes that I have made. At least I have always told the truth and tried to do good by my family,” my father threw back at Asher.

“Your family! A family you stole from me! Your wife, beautiful Cora, was meant to be with me, not you! You took her and everything I could have from me!” Asher began to yell at my father. I was now afraid of who this man was and why he was saying all these things about my father. None of it made sense.

“You never lost your family. You walked away from the family you did have and destroyed the chance you had at a future one,” my father said.

“She was promised to me but I made one little mistake and everything was taken from me! I was never even given a chance to make things right,” Asher got in my father’s face.

“I never loved you in that way Asher,” my mother finally speaking to Asher.

“You could have loved me the same way I love you, had I ever been given the chance,” Asher softly spoke to my mother.

“That is enough! What happened is done and in the past. You have to let it go and move on,” my father said in a pleading voice.

“Let it go? Move on? No, you deserve to be punished for what you have done to me,” Asher said while pulling out his sword. I saw my mother pull my father back and saw her whispering in his ear, but I could not hear what she said.

“I am not going to fight you just because you blame me for you mistakes and failures,” my father said trying sound calm.

“No? I don’t believe you have a choice,” he said as one of the soldiers grabbed my mother and pulled her away from them while holding a knife to her neck.

“Now pick up the sword and show us the noble man you tell everyone you are,” Asher said sneering at my father. I watched as my father slowly bent down and grabbed the sword while looking he looked at my mother.

“I don’t want to do this,” my father said pleading with Asher.

“Well I do!” Asher said while plunging forward towards my father with his sword. My father blocked the sword from hitting him and pushed Asher away. Asher started to slowly move in circles around my father trying to intimidate him. My father followed his every move and was able to block every swing of Asher’s sword. Asher knocked my father down to the ground and stood over him.

“My my, you have become an old man haven’t you. I mean you could always overpower me when we were younger. What has happened to you? You can’t even defend your own honor. How could you ever protect your family?” Asher questioned my father mockingly.

“Do not speak about my family. You do not know the first thing about being a part of a family,” my father said in a cold voice. I had never heard my father speak in that tone. I was so frightened of what was happening and was watching the fight with wide eyes.

“And who’s fault is that,” Asher yelled as he brought the sword down towards my father who blocked it. They continued to swing their swords towards each other before Asher threw my father off of him. He stalked towards my father with the sword as he was trying to get up. As Asher thrusted the sword down, my mother broke free from her captor and jumped towards them.

I was suddenly frozen to my spot behind the tree. I could not move, speak, or hardly breathe. All I could see was the shock on my father’s face when he saw my mother in front of him holding her stomach with the sword in between her fingers. Asher pulled the sword back from my mother and slowly backed away from her. My father caught her in his arms and began to rock her.

“What have you done,” my father asked my mother with a distraught voice.

“I couldn’t let him kill you,” my mother said laying her hand on my father’s cheek.

“I love you my pretty bird,” my father said now with tears running down his face.

“I love you too my special bird,” my mother said as she took her last breath. I was so shocked that I didn’t notice the tears that were falling down my own face.

My father slowly laid my mother down on the ground and gave her a tender kiss on the forehead. He then wiped his hand down his face before picking up his sword and charging towards Asher.

“You killed her!” my yelled.

“She made the mistake of protecting a man who was not worth it,” Asher said back. My father lunged towards Asher and continued to fight with so much more power than before. All I could do was stare at my mother’s body lying on the ground, until I heard the sound of my father scream. I turned my head and saw my father on his knees facing towards me holding his stomach and Asher standing behind him.

“It looks like I have finally beaten you,” Asher said. At that moment my father looked up and noticed me behind the tree. I looked at him with tears streaming down my face and holding on to the tree for dear life. He looked right at me, nodded his head, and smiled.

“Goodbye Alton,” Asher said to my father. My father closed his eyes and I did too. I could not see what was about to happen. I broke down behind that tree beside the house that we always used to read together under. I cried for my mother and for my father.

“What now sir?” I barely hear one of the soldiers asked.

“Burn it. Burn it all,” Asher answered.

“What about the kids?” the soldier asked again. It was then that I remembered my brother was still in the house. I had to try and get him out of the house before they did anything. I made my way back to the window that I had climbed out of previously. I could hear them walking towards the house as I was trying to climb through the window. Just as I got to the bed the door swung open and a pair of hands grabbed me trying to pull out of the room. I screamed and tried to fight with everything that I had in me to get away but the person who had me was too strong. My brother cried out in fright, calling for our mother and father.

“It won’t end well for you if you keep fighting,” said the voice of the man holding me. Eventually he got me out of the house and through me on the ground. I had the air knocked from my lungs at the impact of me hitting the ground. I could hear the sounds of my brother crying to the left of me.

“Here are the children sir,” said the soldier next to me.

“Well, well. What do we have here,” I could hear Asher saying.

“How old are you sweetie?” Asher asked me. I had barely caught my breath and continue looking at the ground that I had been thrown on.

“My…my name is Alice,” I stuttered out.

“Alice. What a beautiful name,” he said to me in a soft voice. I still could not look up at the face of the man who was destroying my family. I closed my eyes trying to take a deep breath.

“You look just like your beautiful mother. You have the same reddish-brown hair that comes down in long, straight strands. So soft and beautiful. You have the same small face of hers that always seemed so soft,” he said as he reached out to touch my cheek. I pulled away from him

“But your eyes are not hers. You have the same dark blue eyes of your father,” he said with distain in his voice.

“It seems Alton had the son that he always wished for. It’s sad he will never get to see him grow up into a man,” Asher said speaking to himself while petting my brother’s head. I heard the sounds of soldiers moving around me and could hear the sounds of them setting my home on fire. I could see the feet of Asher walking in front of me, while I slowly grabbed the small knife that my father always made me keep in my boot.

“You will be coming with me now. Okay, Alice?” he said while kneeling down. I finally brought my head up and saw the eyes of the man who had killed my mother and father. I realized I knew those eyes from when I was a child, but before I could say anything the roof of my house fell in making a loud noise that startled everyone. I took my chance and stabbed my knife into Asher’s left cheek.

He screamed in agony clutching his face. Before anyone could grab me I turned and made a run for the woods behind my home. I could the sound of soldiers trying to run after me. As I got to the trees I could hear the sounds of them running stop.

“Stop! Let her go!” I could hear Asher yelling to his men.

“But sir…,” one of the men tried to question.

“I said leave her! She will never make it out of those woods alive,” Asher said to his men.

“What about the boy?”

“We’ll take him with us. We’ll be his family now.”

As I got a little way into the trees, I stopped to breathe and everything came crashing down. Fell to my knees, let the tears run down my face, and tried to get a hold of everything that had happened. I noticed the necklace that my mother had given the day my brother was born. It was a small wooden box attached to a thick piece of string. It had my initials etched onto the front side of the box, and had a small feather sitting inside of it. I remember what my mother told me the day she gave it to me.

“Do you know what the feather represents Alice?” she asked me. I just nodded my head no.

“Birds fly away for the winter because of the cold, but when air warms up and the flowers bloom they find their way back home. As long as you keep this with you, you will always find you way back to us,” my mother told me smiling.

I clutched the necklace to me and held the small knife in my hand. The only too things I had left of my family. I realized that I had left my brother behind and felt so ashamed of not saving him. I did not know what would happen to him, but I also did not know what would happen to me. I looked around and realized that I was all alone, in the dark, stuck in the woods with no way of knowing where to go.

All I could see was the outline of the trees and their branches created by moonlight above. Everything was quiet around me. It was as if everything had gone to sleep. I stood up with the knife in my hand and started forward. I had to make it out of these woods, even if I didn’t know how to.  I walked and walked but everything around looked the same, so I was unsure if I was any closer to a clearing. I kept walking until I could not continue any longer. I sat against a tree and cried with pain in my heart until I fell asleep.

I later awoke to the sounds of birds singing their song. I opened my eyes not knowing where I was at first, but after a moment, I remembered everything that had happened. I felt this sharp pain in my chest remember the image of my mother and father on the ground, lifeless. I tried to keep the tears in and took a few deep breaths. I stood up and wiped the leaves of my legs. I finally felt how cold it had gotten over night and only then realized that I did not have cloak or anything to stay warm with.

I felt so lost without my mother and father. I started to walk not caring if I was going the right way. After a few hours I heard the sounds of my stomach reminding me that I had not eaten in some time. I tried to find berries, anything to eat but I did not know what was safe to eat. What if picked a poisonous berry? I didn’t know how to hunt. I heard something that sounded like a stream running nearby. I quickly ran to the sound and found a small stream that was running through the woods. I knelt down using my hands to bring the water towards my mouth.

I remembered my father told me that if I was to ever get lost to find water and follow it. Eventually you come to find house or village where you could get help. I stood up and started the follow the flow of the stream. As I continued to walk I found myself going through all the memories that I had playing with my father when we traveled to the Red Mountain River. It took us almost half a day to get there but my father told me it would be worth it.

“I used to come here when I was your age. It was always so beautiful and the fish tasted like nothing I had ever tasted before,” he told me with a smile on his face. All I did was smile back at him and continued to walk next to him. I closed my eyes trying to keep that image of his face forever in memory. I was startled by the sound of thunder above me, signaling the coming of rain. I kept falling the stream hoping that I would find someone soon. I felt the drops of cold rain on my skin as the clouds opened up and let the water fall. I kept moving because I felt there had to be a place around here that I could take shelter.

After what felt like forever, I just saw the outline of what looked like a small house below a hill in the distance. I started to run towards the way of the house but slipped and fell on a rock. I looked down to see the knee of my pants ripped open and blood coming from my knee. I started to cry again both from the physical pain and from the feelings of being all alone. I tried to get up and continue towards the house. With every step I took, a sharp pain emanated from the open cut on my leg. I got closer to the house and saw a small barn like structure next to it.

I was so cold, wet, hungry, and hurting physical and emotional pain that I could only make it to the small structure next to the house. I managed to get the large, wooden door open enough for me to slip through. I could not see much of what was in the building put I did see a pile of hay in the back corner. I slowly made my way over and collapsed on the pile of hay. I felt my body giving up, whether it was from hunger or the events that happened the other night, I do not know. My eyes started to slowly close as I got more tired with each breath. The last thing I saw before I fell asleep was the outline of man standing at the door of the barn, but I did not have the energy to speak or move. I let myself fall into a deep sleep no longer worrying about what was to happen.

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

Tech Issue

Summary: Being smart and graduate college early doesn’t only have good sides. Busy with studies, you have less time to see your boyfriend. So one day you decide to go see him on his university’s campus to make him a surprise. But the surprise is rather he who make you one, because the future employee of Google wearing the significant beanie that Stuart is asks you for help on a problem that is supposed to be his specialty.

Word count: 1565

Requested? Yes, by @standalls

Fandom: The Internship

Pairing: Reader x Stuart Twombly

A/N: First Internship imagine! Hope you like it and I hope I wrote Stuart correctly! None of the gifs are mine.

You hadn’t seen him for a long time. To be honest, with the end of your studies that you had finished with mention, you hadn’t the time for any activities. You were very intelligent, too intelligent and devoted to your studies. And that’s how you graduated from college before many other people of your age and that included your boyfriend. Your boyfriend who had managed to get a dream job at Google’s premises but who had to graduate before he could start working.

And so, both very busy, you with your finals in search of a job and him with the internship and his school year to finish, you barely had time to send text messages at each other.

That’s why you decided. You missed Stuart excruciatingly and the few call and skype videos couldn’t replace human contact. You had to see him face to face. You missed him too much, his sassy and jaded side that was meant to be cool but that he kept only for others. For you and only you he showed his true him, tender, sweet and especially so nice true side. You loved when he took you in his arms just to stroke your skin. You put your back against his chest and your head just below his. Then his long agile fingers accustomed to tapping on his phone screen had only you in sight. He loved to stroke the skin of your arms to give you pleasant shivers. And at the same time he put his chin on your head to smell the odor of your hair and you smiled knowing the face he did without having to see it.

And often the whole thing ended with him deciding it was time for a tickling attack.

All those beautiful moments, you remembered them all the way to his dormitory. You had decided to leave everything behind you, pack some luggage and take the bus to him. A few hours of public transport and you found yourself on his campus, in front of his room, a smile already plated on your face as you raised your free hand that didn’t hold your suitcase to knock on his door. It was Saturday, so apart from many works and studies, he had to be in his room. And you hoped he would have time for you.

It didn’t take much time and a young man, the most beautiful, came to open the door. He wore a simple gray t-shirt with brown jeans. On his nose rested a pair of black bezels and on his head, over his hair surely messy was a beanie. His beanie, the famous beanie he always drags along with him. It gives style, he told you to defend himself and you always ended up stealing it to put it on your head, laughing. And he was chasing you down the corridors to catch you. He always ended up catching you, making you turn around on the spot with him before giving you a tender kiss to distract you and retrieve what was his.

When he opened, Stuart was very surprised. The straw he had in his mouth he usually chew when he wanted to concentrate fell on the floor so that his lips could stretch and forms the most magnificent smile that illuminated his honey brown eyes under his glasses. You smiled at him and he came to take you in his arms without waiting.

As usual Stuart made you turn by taking you by the waist. You laugh out loud and looked at him, your eyes both in love. After a while, he let you slip to the floor. You didn’t wait and put your hands on his cheeks while his were laid on your hips. Then, you moved your face close to his and put your lips against his for a soft, passionate and above all very full of desire kiss that prolonged for a couple of long and delicious seconds. You had so much time to catch up.

Finally you had to step back to catch your breath.

“Y / N … I didn’t expect you … you are …”

“I couldn’t stand it, Stu, can’t you graduate faster?” You answered him, not leaving his gaze. He smiled at you, that smile so sincere that he only reserved for you before answering.

“I’m very smart you know. It takes time for smart kids like me to prove their intelligence.” He said, stepping forward to whisper something in your ear. “You’ll see I’ll catch up to you and you’ll regret laughing at me all this time …”

“ Oh. I can’t wait to see that!” You replied, convinced he was very able to do that.

After a while you decided that it would be wiser to discuss in his room. Luckily, his roommates were out for the Weekend, but Stuart had declined their invitation, surely to show his investment in his studies. So he stayed to revise.

Always proving everyone he was the best. It was your Stuart.

Indeed the first thing you saw when you came in was the pile of books and sheets stacked and scattered all over the place. You felt almost guilty to disturb him when he was surely very busy.

“So what’s up,” you asked him as you took a seat on his couch and he came to you quickly, with his laptop in his hand, which he placed on his lap. If you didn’t know Stuart so well you would have been angry to see him on his computer when you had gone all the way to see him. But you knew your boyfriend very well and for him it was rather a mark of confidence to work next to someone, to show that person what he was doing on his computer.

And Stuart Twombly truly trusted you.

“I’m working on a philosophy thesis,” he began by showing you his Word document that indicated more than 7,000 words.

“Not easy …” You muttered, reminding you of this duty. Then, suddenly, a pop-up appeared on his computer saying there was a problem. You startled and looked at Stuart who mumbled a few oaths before turning the screen towards him and started tapping, his glasses up his nose.

“Tech issue?” You asked him, worried about his sudden concentration.

Every other girl would have been very angry to pass after a computer problem, but you knew that even if Stuart was concentrating on his computer issue, you would always pass before everything.

“Every time it does that,” Stuart showed you the source of the problem and immediately your brain starts to work and think at full speed. You analyzed the possibilities according to your knowledge, which proved to be less developed than the one of your boyfriend and you stopped, understanding.

“Stuart Twombly you are asking me for help with a technical problem.”

His eyes wandered somewhere to your left and then rested on you with an outraged but guilty expression.

“ Noooooo.” He told you but you knew he was lying.

” Liar! “

"I don’t ask for help, I show you the problem,” he corrected and you couldn’t hold back the smile that stretched your lips.

“Mr. Future Google employee who asks his girlfriend for help to solve a computer problem!” You added to tease him as you gave him a pat on the shoulder. Stuart looked at his screen, raising his eyebrows.

” I don’t see what you’re talking about. “

You laughed while crossing your arms on your chest, still looking at him.

"Stuuuuuu.”

“What?” He asked, outraged.

You took his beanie from his head.

"Breathe out your brain and you’ll find your solution,” you teased him, tucked his beanie under your arm.

“Give me that!” He said to you, trying to reach it and you pretended not to know what he wanted.

“Y / N!” He insisted, but you continued to ignore him.

"Well, if you don’t need my help, I’m going to leave,” you added as you stood up, his beanie still in your possession. You loved teasing him and he knew it.

“For the lord of Hogwarts, I need your help! I’m almost done with my thesis but I can’t save it with these pop-up appearing, threatening to restart the program! I don’t know what to do. ”

“That wasn’t so complicated!” You laughed, putting his beanie on your head and returning to sit down beside him.

"You don’t uhm give me back my beanie.”

“I have to think like you, so I better have it on my head,” you answered, winking before taking his computer on your lap.

It only took you about fifteen minutes and a lot of nails gnawed (thank you Stuart for your precious collaboration) before you managed to solve the problem.

“Tada!” You exclaimed by showing him his thesis now saved without problems and the pop-up windows disappeared forever.

Stuart didn’t answer you immediately, nor thanked you. He stared at his computer screen for many silent seconds, his mouth half open before looking up at your eyes which were very proud to have succeeded. Stuart took his computer, closed it and put it somewhere carefully on the floor without leaving your gaze.

“You’re fantastic,” was all he told you before he jumped on you for an attack that this time wasn’t a tickling attack.

Hopefully his roommates wouldn’t come back early!

[justanothercinemaniac]

Epic Movie (Re)Watch #171 - X-Men: First Class

Spoilers Below

Have I seen it before: Yes

Did I like it then: Yes.

Do I remember it: Yes.

Did I see it in theaters: Yes.

Was it a movie I saw since August 22nd, 2009: Yes. #104

Format: Blu-ray

1) Poland, 1944

This film hemmed so close to the opening scene of the original X-Men film that producer Bryan Singer thought he was actually looking at the old footage. It is a smart and effective opening to the prequel, as it not only re-establishes a character who has been absent from the series for five years but also sets up his key conflict with the film. Erik is still dealing with the pain from this event in a much more key way than he is during Ian McKellen’s tenure; what he went through in the concentration camp is the driving motivation behind his actions in the film. Making this first scene all the better.

2) Young Charles & Raven.

Raven [upon first meeting Charles]: “You’re not scared of me?”

The adoptive brother/sister relationship between Charles and Raven might be totally invented for this film (as in: has no source in comic book canon which I am aware of) but I freaking love it. I’m a sucker for platonic male/female relationships and the connection these two have is in a lot of ways the beating heart of this film. Which makes it all the more tragic that they drift apart in the future (something I’m hoping will be remedied in X-Men: Dark Phoenix). The key to their relationship is that they feel safe around each other. This is the first time that either of them has realized they’re not truly alone in the world. That someone hasn’t pushed Raven away for her natural form and that Charles realizes his ability to read minds does not make him a freak. There’s a sense of ease, comfort, and community they have with each other that was totally foreign to them up until that moment. A strong foundation to a strong relationship.

3) Kevin Bacon as Sebastian Shaw.

Bacon’s Shaw was all but glossed over in most promotional materials, making his presence in the film a pleasant surprise for first time viewers. And pleasant it is because Shaw is an absolutely wonderful villain. Bacon brings a refreshing and engaging amount of charisma/fun to the part. He’s the bad guy you love to hate with a little bit of Bond villain in him. The first thing he does when we meet him in murder Erik’s mother in front of her 12ish year old son. And then he reacts with unadulterated GLEE when that murder allows Erik to tap into his mutant powers. He’s downright giddy! In a series filled with classic bad guys like Magneto and William Stryker, Shaw is able to hold up with the best of them.

Shaw [after murdering Erik’s mom]: “We’re going to have a lot of fun together.”

4) James McAvoy as Charles Xavier.

McAvoy’s Xavier is delightfully more flawed than Stewart’s. He is much more of a cad. He is more arrogant, a bit more green, a bit more cocky, and a lot more naive. BUT he’s not just that. He’s not some douche bag who learns to be a great man. You see the greatness in him still. He is still Charles Xavier after all. When things get serious, he gets serious. He lets Moira know how important this is to him, he has hope for the future of his people and he is able to put away the womanizer we meet early on when it comes to helping people. There’s still that naivety a little but, the belief that everything will be alright after they save the world. That fear will just stop. But it’s mixed in with Xavier’s trademark hope. McAvoy is great as the character and a joy to watch.

5) Jennifer Lawrence as Raven/Mystique.

Raven is in a much different place than Rebecca Romijn’s Mystique was in the original X-Men trilogy and it’s a lot of fun to watch. There is this humor and warmth to the character that we don’t often get to see. A smile, a playfulness with Charles, but we see her develop into the more jaded warrior of Magneto’s crew. Watching that transformation is great and heartbreaking, especially as it shakes up her relationship with adopted brother Xavier. And Lawrence is great in the part. A pre Hunger Games role, I think it’s one of my favorites that she has under her belt. Many of her characters are so serious and dower these days when the actress has a wonderful heart/sense of humor she gets to show off her. It’s lost in the future installments, but that makes sense considering the path the character goes down. It’s a tragedy, but one that’s good to watch.

6) Oh Charles...

Raven: “Would you date me?”

Charles: “Of course I would. Any man would be lucky to have you, you are stunning.”

Raven: “Looking like this?”

[Charles stutters for a second then looks at Raven.]

Charles: “Blue? [Beat.] You’re my oldest friend...I’m incapable of thinking of you that way. I feel responsible for you.”

He changes from, “oh absolutely,” to, “I could never think of you like that,” REALLY fast when he realizes she’s talking about her natural form. And that’s where his naivety comes into play. He doesn’t understand what it’s like hiding who you really are in such a basic and obvious way. Not telling someone you can read their minds is fundamentally harder than having to wear a skin that isn’t your’s because you think people will reject your natural form. And that’s the key to her conflict in this film. Being mutant and proud.

7) McAvoy and Lawrence have such a wonderful natural chemistry as adopted brother & sister, must obvious in the scene above when Raven asks Charles if he’d date her. Her snuggling up to her brother while he reads her his thesis makes my heart melt.

8) Michael Fassbender as Erik/Magneto.

Honestly the casting of Erik & Charles could have been royally screwed up. This film does it perfectly. Fassbender brings a single determination and focus to his character. He is ruthless, brutal, violent, intimidating, but you still sympathize with him. Hell, you are ROOTING for him. In a lot of ways he’s even more sympathetic than Charles is. Fassbender is able to play the pain Erik has been though with much more relevance than McKellen ever got the chance to because the story allows it. He is in anger mode, with a bit of self loathing (he is what he is because a man murdered his mother, in his mind) but more with a taste for vengeance.  Fassbender is absolutely beautiful in the part and I wouldn’t ask for a different actor to play him.

9) Of course within one minute of meeting Rose Byrne’s character she is strips into her underwear because, hey, sexy women get objectified in film!

(GIF originally posted by @chirrutimwae)

Yes, I understand that the Hellfire club is like a sexy lingerie strip club thing. Yes I understand that Moira is a determined CIA agent who will do her job no matter what. And yes this is the only time Moira does this and she’s actually a pretty great character. But you know what? The Hellfire club did not NEED to be a sexy lingerie strip club. It could’ve been some elegant hoity-toity how do you do thing. And Moira didn’t need to strip down to her lingerie at all in the film. It was not needed. It does not tell us anything about her character or the story.

Ugh, living in a post Wonder Woman world is going to be a lot harder than I thought. I mean, I wasn’t exactly blind before. But I definitely needed glasses to see through the haze which is the male gaze and now I do with Wonder Woman. And now it’s just...oh boy.

10) Rose Byrne as Moira is a solidly written character that the actress plays well. The filmmakers don’t spend much time focusing on the, “Moira in her underwear,” stuff and she turns into pretty much the best government agent in the film. She is intelligent, more focused on the job than any of her coworkers (who are dogged down by fear, bigotry, and male ego), and she forms this nice relationship with Charles which yes ends up romantic but is also more based on mutual respect. I love couples with mutual respect for each other. Rose Byrne plays the part wonderfully. I love the actress now BECAUSE I was introduced to her in this film. She is capable, strong, but not pigheaded or egotistical. She’s good at her job and she knows it so she continues to be good at her job.

11) January Jones as Emma Frost.

So I know there is a lot of hate out there for January Jones as Frost, but I don’t really mind her. But I’m not going to like strongly defend her either. I put more blame on the writing than her as she works with what she is given. Emma Frost is this badass in the comics who - yes - dresses in a VERY sexual manor (because she likes to, I believe) but she is also wonderfully complex. She usually has an intense rivalry with Jean Grey, is often romantically linked to Scott Summers, is an extremely powerful telepath, reformed bad guy who is often not so reformed, and over all fascinating read. But the filmmakers sorta just latched onto the, “sexy female bad guy with diamond skin and telepathic powers.” Which would’ve been fine is Emma had been developed a bit more but she never really goes beyond that/Shaw’s hench woman.

And again, the power of Wonder Woman has me asking: why is she dressing so sexually? I mean if there’s like a legitimate reason, like the character is more comfortable with that or confident in her body, than go for it! But a reason is never given she just does that and it seems to be for the sake of the male gaze. Which is disappointing to say the least.

12) The scene which I (and Henry Jackman’s score) refers to as Frankenstein’s Monster.

This is Erik at his most brutal. He finds those two “former” Nazis (can you ever really be a former Nazi if you’re not repenting for your sins?) in a bar and engages in conversation with them. It’s incredible tense in the most wonderful sense, because Erik is enjoying screwing with these Nazis. And then he cuts them down in the most brutal and badass way possible in a wonderful (and wonderfully simple) moment of action supported by Henry Jackman’s incredible score. I am very much enjoying any and all forms of media where Nazis are absolutely wrecked so this has is even more enjoyable now than it was in 2011.

13) The blonde Charles with looked familiar to me...

Then I realized she’s Annabelle Wallis, who is in The Mummy with Tom Cruise.

As of writing I have yet to see the new Mummy film so I don’t like or dislike this actress. Just noticed it.

14) When I first saw this it took a second to sink in.

Charles [to the CIA agent who accused him of doing a magic trick]: “No agent Stryker. Although I could tell you about your son William...”

15) Oliver Platt as the Man in Black.

I enjoy Platt’s performance in this film. He’s not your typical government stooge to keep the heroes in line. He’s like a kid at Christmas. All these years he thought the impossible wasn’t so impossible and now he has proof. And he’s super excited about that and helpful because of it. He’s just a wonderful addition to the film.

16) According to IMDb:

A telepathic battle between Professor X and Emma Frost was going to be in the film, but upon the release of Inception (2010) the concept was scrapped. This was then used in X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), between Professor X and Apocalypse.

17) So let’s consider Charles and Erik’s first encounter, shall we:

Charles jumps in to save the life of a man he doesn’t know.

Charles helps Erik to calm down and find peace because he doesn’t like him to be upset.

And of course, this:

Erik: “I thought I was alone!”

Charles: “You’re not alone, Erik. You’re not alone.”

Yes this is a strong first interaction between what will be the bromantic frenemy relationship of the century, but more so than that it plays into some strong conscious gay subtext feature in the film. Like in X2 when Bobby came out to his family as a mutant, there are small but important lines between being a mutant and being gay. Two lines stand out in particular: the one above and then...

Hank [when he’s outed as a mutant]: “You didn’t ask so I didn’t tell.”

X-Men have traditional been used as a parable for those fighting for their rights in those world (specifically America). When they were first being published there was a strong line between Professor X & Martin Luther King Jr. as well as Magneto & Malcolm X. But as times have evolved, so have the X-Men. With a number of LGBTQIA actors and characters in the franchise, in the 21st century X-Men has at times strongly paralleled the issues gay people face in this world. Particularly through Hank’s, “don’t ask don’t tell,” line and Erik’s, “I thought I was alone.” Gay visibility was not as much of a thing in the 50s as it is in 2017, and it was in the 60s when things like the Stonewall Riots occurred giving gay people much more visibility. This film is set in the 60s.

18) Nicholas Hoult as Hank McCoy/Beast.

Hoult brings a lot of heart to the character originated brilliantly by Kelsey Grammer in The Last Stand (Hoult even watched early episodes of “Frasier” to see if he couldn’t emulate Grammer in any way). He features the same intellect as Grammers’ Beast but is a lot more soft spoken. He has not made peace with the animal side of himself yet or who he really is. Like Raven, he needs to learn to take pride in his status as a mutant. He just gets there in a different way than she does. This was the first film I saw with Hoult and I have to say I’m glad for it. Because I think he’s a talented actor who was able to make the role of Hank McCoy remarkably memorable.

19) There is also a notably strong chemistry between Nicholas Hoult and Jennifer Lawrence. It isn’t like Emma Stone & Andrew Garfield in Amazing Spider-Man where you can see them getting hot just by being near each other, but it’s incredibly cute and adorable. There’s a natural back and forth between the pair, a natural trust which means we as the audience are invested in their blossoming relationship as well.

20) While I personally think the relationship between Charles and Raven gives the life its heart, that is not to undersell the intense importance Charles/Erik’s relationship is.

Erik: “What do you know about me?”

Charles: “Everything.”

There is this immediate vulnerability Erik has with Charles which he is NOT comfortable with (since in the past he’s been vulnerable under the worst possible of situations), but Charles doesn’t manipulate Erik with the knowledge he has. There’s an immediate depth of feeling the future Professor X has for his new ally. He wants to make sure he’s okay and the fact that he doesn’t take advantage of Erik’s vulnerability is something Erik is not used to. Meaning Erik trusts Charles more than he has trusted anyone ever before and Charles is able to help Erik reach his full potential as Magneto.

21) I laughed SO hard at this line the first time I saw the film.

Hank [when he hooks up Charles to Cerebro]: “Are you sure we can’t shave your head?”

(GIF source is unknown [if this is your GIF please let me know].)

22) The montage where Erik and Charles find all the mutants to make up the first X-Men team is a slick way of covering a sequence which could have easily dogged down the pacing of the film. Instead, “okay, we need to find Angel and Havok and Darwin and Banshee...” they just cover it in about five minutes with upbeat music and clever pacing/editing.

23) The gay subtext in this film COULD have been much more obvious if they had kept this deleted (where Charles shows off his powers to angel):

24) This is beautiful.

(GIF originally posted by @littlerebelrabbit)

According to IMDb:

Hugh Jackman accepted the opportunity to cameo as Wolverine, when he learned he would be the only character in the film to use the word 'fuck'. He improvised the line, "Go fuck yourself," after using seven other takes to say, "Fuck off". The reaction from James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender to the different line was authentic.

My entire process while watching this scene the first time was, “Hey, that guy looks familiar. Huh, he kinda looks like Hugh Jackman. Hey wait, that IS Hugh Jackman!” This is by far one of my favorite cameos in a film EVER and his appearance makes Hugh Jackman the only actor (to date) to appear in every film with the words X-Men in the title (he didn’t appear in Deadpool so he hasn’t appeared in every X-Men universe ever).

25) I mentioned in my recap for The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen that Jason Flemyng is one of my favorite character actors because of that film. Well he fills out Azazel’s red skin quite nicely.

26) Charles and Erik’s scene at the Lincoln Memorial is very telling of their future rivalry.

Erik: “Identification: that’s how it starts.”

This is where Erik’s naivety truly shines through. He actually believes he can convince humans to not be afraid of what they don’t understand, collectively. While Erik’s output might be a little more dower it’s also a little more realistic.

27) The bonding scene between the young X-Men is great.

I’m a sucker for superheroes screwing around with their powers as a way to bond with each other (see: the party seen in Age of Ultron). There is strong humor throughout, each character is developed in simple yet unique ways and we begin to understand their relationships with each other. And it’s just a lot of fun to watch!

Note: I really like Zoe Kravitz in this film, but I think that speaks to her natural charisma more than anything else.

28) Professor Xavier is a jerk.

Charles [after he finds his new mutants comfortable with their powers, screwing around like the young people they are]: “I expected more from you.”

29) The way Erik tears through the Russian guard to get to Frost (and, by extension, Shaw eventually) shows how determined he is. He is ruthless and if anyone actively stands in his way he will tear them apart. It’s simple but powerful. The way he handles Emma also shows off this dedication, as well as the dissonance between how far he’ll go versus how far Charles WON’T go.

30) The “Children of the Atom” scene which showcases Shaw’s plan is nicely effective. It has a unique and impactful visual style and its simple enough that the audience isn’t dogged down by unnecessary exposition.

31) Shaw’s attack on the CIA is an incredibly strong turning point for the film. Outside of what’s been going on with Erik, the darkness of previous X-Men films has pretty much taken a backseat in this film. Until this moment. It’s when everything turns to shit, giving an unfortunate end to Oliver Platt’s character and showcasing Shaw’s powers in a unique and threatening way. The few issues I have with this scene are:

I wish we got more in Angel’s head about her decision to join up with Shaw; she does so then her character kind of disappears. It’s like she’s his new Emma.

Even in 2011, the black guy dies first.

32) My brother and I both made this joke the first time we saw this film, so thanks to @jakegyllenhaal for putting it in GIF form.

33) Okay, I might be about to get philosophical here.

Stryker: “In times like this, SECURITY is more important than liberty.”

(GIF source unknown [if this is your GIF please let me know].)

This is an issue in today’s modern age, but here’s the thing: liberty is more important than safety. Above all. “Give me liberty or give me death,” is a famous line that is basically one of the things this country is built on. So no, Security is NOT more important than liberty. Liberty and freedom above all. And if you have to compromise on security to do so than you should. At least, in my opinion.

34) X-Training.

This is - in a lot of ways - what I’ve missed from the X-Men series. Charles actually being a teacher. Actually seeing the X-School in work and seeing students learn to master their powers. You know why Harry Potter is so cool? In part, it’s because we like to imagine taking all the classes. And now we’ve finally get that. It shows Charles being more of a teacher and growing into his role of Professor X more which is wonderful. Also - like the recruitment scene - the montage format is great. The editing and music keep it from dragging down the film. We could easily have spent like, “okay, two minutes on Beast now two minutes on Havok now two minutes on Banshee,” etc. But the montage makes it like a music video. Easily digestible, supported by Henry Jackman’s score, and just a lot of fun. Each character’s development is also continued, making them unique individuals who’s relationships with each other and personalities we understand. It’s just really great.

35) Glad to see they’re trying to maintain SOME continuity with the series.

Hank [about Raven]: “When you’re 40 you’ll still have the looks and sights of a teenager.”

36) Rage and serenity.

This is the moment of greatest trust and vulnerability Erik has with Charles. Erik trusts Charles enough to let him go through his mind and find his most intimate memory with his mother. It’s a holiday I assume (that’s a menorah so I’m thinking Hanukkah as Erik IS Jewish) and it’s this beautiful memory of someone he misses more than anything else. And it shows Charles who Erik is. It is the strongest moment in their entire relationship and defines it’s better qualities in a lot of ways. It’s pure character and I love it for that.

37) Hank and the cure.

(GIF source unknown [if this is your GIF please let me know].)

There’s a strong juxtaposition between where Hank is with his self worth and Raven. Magneto has convinced Raven that she should be mutant and proud, that she should embrace her natural form. And she tries to do the same. It doesn’t exactly work though.

Hank: “My feet and your natural blue form will never be deemed beautiful. [Raven changes her skin back.] You’re beautiful now.”

Dude, you just said the girl you like will never be beautiful unless she looks like someone else. And I get that you’re projecting your own issues onto her, but also you’re words hurt her so much that she instinctively goes back into hiding.

Aka: the moment Hank and Raven would not get together (as of now).

38) Charles and Erik playing one last chess game before going to stop Shaw.

It is widely foreshadowing of the conflict to come between the pair and an unfortunate piece of dramatic irony for us as the audience. It is the showcase of the dissonance in their relationship at its most basic.

Charles: “Killing Shaw will not bring you peace.”

Erik: “Peace was never an option.”

That is just not applicable to Shaw for Erik, but humans as well. He’s not interested in peace with humanity, he’s interested in supremacy. As we saw in 2000′s X-Men.

39) Mystique seducing Erik always felt a little off to me. I know she’s mad at Hank and that Erik is the only guy in her life right now to make her feel totally comfortable with who she is (along with helping her be mutant and proud) but it feels a little unearned. I don’t get any sexual chemistry between them. I see a nice relationship but not a sexual one. Maybe it’s just me. But the Rebecca Romijn cameo is appreciated!

40) Hank’s gone into Beast mode.

The practical makeup to get Hoult looking like the blue beast is incredible, because it IS largely practical with a bit of CGI to help enhance some areas. You begin to see a bit more of Kelsey Grammer in Beast now which is fun, but Hoult still makes the role his own. This is what helps him accept the animalistic instincts in him and reach the status of mutant and proud. It’s a great part of the film.

41) Now I’m just thinking about the first X-Men...

42) The climax of the film not only shows the team working well together but has some nice surprises in it (mainly when the Russians blow up their own ship). It’s best seen when the team find Shaw’s submarine and Erik says he’s going in. Charles does not question or second guess his teammate’s decision but works with it and sends him back up. It’s a lot of fun to watch this team in action.

43) Erik and Shaw’s final encounter.

For most of this scene Erik is silent, just letting Shaw rail on him because it allows Erik’s telepathy to feed through. He says nothing until he’s about to be in control which takes a lot of self discipline.

Erik: “Everything you did made me stronger...That’s the truth. I’ve known it all along.”

And then what Erik says right before he kills Shaw is INCREDIBLY powerful especially when you think of the path Magneto goes down.

Erik: “I agree with every word you’ve said. We are the future. But unfortunately, you killed my mother.”

The way Erik ends up killing Shaw is so cruel and dramatic then, with the mirrored cinematography on Charles’ head (as he’s in Shaw’s mind) just driving the point home. He’s not just killing Shaw. He’s killing any kind of platonic relationship he could have with Charles too.

44) And so Erik’s transformation to Magneto is complete.

He is now the mutant leader we know from the first film, with his powers under full control. Now that he’s done with revenge he can move on to freeing his mutant brothers and sisters. He’s embraced not just his powers but his role as a leader of mutants and an enemy of mankind. And he’s tired of being vulnerable.

Charles [about the US and Russians Erik is about to kill]: “They’re just following orders!”

Erik: “I’ve been at the mercy of men just following orders.”

(GIF source unknown [if this is your GIF please let me know].)

45) The ensuing fist fight between Charles and Erik could have easily been based around powers. Charles could have used his telepathy to control Azazel or Angel or someone and send them in to fight Erik with him using his metal manipulation to throw them off. But you know what? Seeing this too just get in a freaking fist fight is much more realistic for their relationship, a lot more raw, and a lot more entertaining.

46) Well, if this isn’t a declaration of platonic (???) love I don’t know what is.

(GIF originally posted by @marveladdicts)

47) It’s nice to see Mystique not go straight for Erik to join him but to make sure that the person who is practically her brother is alright. And then Charles encourages her to go with Erik! It’s still a strong relationship even if it is in tatters.

48) Charles likes to fuck with people’s minds without consent. What he did to Jean in The Last Stand and now getting rid of Moira’s memories without even asking.

49) Oh man.

Moira [talking about things she half remembers]: “A kiss.”

[Room full of male CIA agents groan.]

CIA Agent: “Gentlemen, this is why the CIA is no place for a woman.”

(GIF originally posted by @manofsteel)

50) The ending to this film is very solid, with Erik not only embracing his role as Magneto but also the fashion choice.

(GIF originally posted by @wonho-kihyun)

X-Men: First Class is an incredible amount of fun. Matthew Vaughn’s directing style gives the series a boost of adrenaline it desperately needed. Supported by memorable characters, a strong story with strong themes, and absolutely amazing performances almost across the board, this is the reason we still have X-Men films today. An absolute treat for first time viewers and old fans alike, you all should watch it.

[vin-taege]

Petals pt. 2

Summary: Taehyung bumps into Jungkook again, but in more awkward circumstances.

Pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook

Words: 2k+

Taehyung went home thirty minutes late. His hyungs didn’t really mind, except Jimin, who tried to act angry at him. 

“Yah, ‘I’ll be home before six’, he said. ‘Just going for a walk’, he said.” Jimin eyed him, a small smile breaking through his lips. He grabbed Taehyung, hooking an arm around his neck in a mocked chokehold. Jimin began ruffling the younger one’s hair. “Who did you meet up huh? Did you go out for a quick fuck without telling us?” 

Taehyung cringed at the thought. He didn’t want easy catches. Even though he had a sugar mommy, he still believed that sex was for two people in love,not just for temporary satisfaction. Everything he did was wrong most of the time, but that doesn’t mean he lost his moral code.

He squirmed at of Jimin’s grip. “Hell no. Like I said, just for a walk.” He shrugged his jacket off, carelessly tossing it on the floor. They usually had dinner at seven, but he saw Namjoon and Yoongi already sharing a big cup of ramen on the couch.

“Ah, dongsaeng. Your shirt’s torn. Who the fuck did that?” Yoongi asked, nodding to his side. He followed the older boy’s action and saw his shirt ripped on his right side. He had second thoughts about telling them his encounter at the library. They might tease him for defending someone, thinking he’d gotten soft. Even such an act was foreign for him. It’s been a while since he’s done something good for a change. Plus, he couldn’t let them know that he was at a library.

“I got into a fight.” 

He said timidly. He didn’t show the whole truth, but for him, that was better than lying. “Hm? With who? One of Seungcheol’s men? Goddamnit, I already told Woozi-”

“No, no. Just a uni jock. He had a big mouth on him.” Partly saying the truth again. Yoongi took it in and continued eating. “Next time, make sure to include us. I’ve always wanted to beat up a jock.” Namjoon piped up, his mouth still full of noodles.

Taehyung chuckled. He knew why Namjoon’s blood was so hot with jocks. Namjoon did well in school. He always got good grades and high honors, which was why everyone was shocked when he dropped out. Except for his seniors in the varsity team, who made sure his school days were filled with torture. But he was grateful, because he learned how to fight because of them.

Everyone had a reason for being in the group, mostly because they were neglected, and pushed to a point where they acted out. Taehyung left because of his parents, who had an attitude shittier than their couch. He was just glad to be where he was right now, even though he wasn’t exactly the best influence. 

“Namjoon needs to stop smoking before he gets sick. We can’t afford a new couch, much less his chemo.” Hoseok sighed, partly annoyed, partly joking. Taehyung walked next to him, Jimin behind them. Namjoon initially ordered Jimin to get him a new pack of cigarettes, but Hoseok wanted to come too, and dragged Taehyung with him.

“I just want to scare everyone on the way to the market for shits and giggles.” Hoseok had said when they went out.

Jimin was silent. He didn’t like going outside much, except for bars or nightclubs. But aside from that, he didn’t want interacting with people who aren’t like him. At least that’s how he labelled them. In his world, there are only two types: those who are bent, blindly following a path already made for them, and those who make their own. 

He was considered a disappointment in their family the second he went to his first dance competition. So he lived up to that name, but this time he did what he want.

“Hyung, keep your voice down. You don’t want unneeded attention.” Jimin muttered from behind them. Normally, he was cheerful, but being in town made him sour. He loved how the crowd parted for them, how fear was evident just because of their presence. But he didn’t like the stares they got. 

“It’s those boys again, huh? Going to be involved in another gang fight, probably.”

“Gonna get shit-faced at the bar again.”

Jimin heard the whispers loud and clear. He has always been the most sensitive regarding these things. Even though he couldn’t give less of a fuck, those comments still managed to get under his skin. He looked at the younger boys in front of him. Hoseok was smiling, still going on about a story only he found funny, while Taehyung stared straight ahead, seeming to be deep in thought. 

“Shit!”

Hoseok was on the ground, books and papers sprawled around him. A boy laid opposite him. They were both rubbing their heads, and Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh. He clamped a hand over his mouth, but the laughter was still heard. 

In a flash, Hoseok got up and grabbed the boy by his collar. “What the hell where you-”

“Jungkook?” Taehyung stared. Hoseok paused and looked at him. “You know this guy?” Taehyung nodded. With a huff, Hoseok let go and walked over to Jimin. 

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t see where I was going. It was my fault.” Jungkook said, frantically gathering his things. Taehyung helped him, occasionally giving him glances. His hair look messier, fluffier, than the first time they met. “No, it’s okay. Hoseok’s okay with it, right?” Taehyung said, pointedly looking at his hyung.

Hoseok scrunched his eyebrows, but after seeing the pleading look from his dongsaeng, swallowed his remarks. “Yeah, whatever. Just watch where you’re going. Come on, Tae.” Jungkook stood there, gaping at them. He’s only heard stories about their group, but now three of their members are standing before him.

The two started walking away, while Taehyung shot him one last glance and slowly followed. “Wait! Uh, I’m not busy, and I’m assuming you guys aren’t too. Do you- do you guys want some coffee? As an apology? I can treat you guys out if you want.” Jungkook said, jogging up to them. Hoseok looked at him, a small smile on his face. Taehyung tugged at Jimin’s sleeve. 

“Hyung, free coffee! We haven’t had coffee in a while. Plus, I need something other than booze to keep me going.” he whispered. “Yeah, and this guy does owe me an apology.” Hoseok added. “We can get the cigarettes later anyway.” Jimin groaned. There was no way his friends where going to turn down the offer. He stopped walking and eyed Jungkook. There was something about that kid that screamed they could trust him. And he was the first person to look at them like they were actually humans, not monsters.

“Yah. What’s your name?” he said, making his voice purposely cold. Maybe he could scare him off.

“Jeon Jungkook” Jungkook shifted his weight to one foot, intimidated by the man in front of him. “Sir.” he hesitantly added.

“Do you study or...?”

“I go to university.”

After a minute more of eyeing him down, Jimin knew he wasn’t going away. So with a sigh, he held out his hand. “I’m Jimin. The one you bumped into earlier is Hoseok hyung. He’s too nice for his own good”

“Hey!” Hoseok glared at him. “I guess you’ve met Taehyung?” Hoseok patted Taehyung’s shoulder. Jungkook smiled. “Yeah. He kinda ‘saved’ me at the library yesterday.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened. ‘Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.’ he thought. His hyungs looked at him, suspicion and a glint of mischief in their eyes. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh yesterday.” He shrugged it off, trying to play it cool. He could already hear Jimin’s voice teasing him. 

“There’s a really cozy coffee shop down there.” Jungkook pointed straight ahead. “They make nice latte art too.” He grabbed Taehyung by the wrist, being most comfortable with him, and dragged him in the direction of the cafe. The older boys gave each other a look, before following them.

“Well, you were right about the latte art. I thought I had to kill you there earlier, but you proved me wrong.” Hoseok said, contentedly taking another sip from his cup. Jungkook nervously laughed. He was sure everyone at the cafe were looking at them, especially when Jimin began picking his nails with a small pocket knife.

“See? I told you he’s nice. What do you think, hyung?” Taehyung nodded towards Jimin, “Oh? Yeah, the coffee’s great.” he said, sparing an uninterested glance at his mocha latte. “Jungkook, what course are you taking?”

“Fine arts. I’ve always wanted to, ever since I was young.” he beamed. He was thankful that his parents were supporting him. He thought they wouldn’t let him move, since Busan was far away from Seoul. But here he was, living by himself, going to an arts college.

“Wait, then what about that thesis freak?” Hoseok smirked at Taehyung. The younger one groaned. Jungkook just had to tell that story. Even Jimin grinned a bit. 

“Oh, Daewon. He’s in the other school a few blocks away from ours. He’s older, but he always got held back. He uh, thought I was nice enough to make him his thesis.” Jungkook said, not wanting to touch that topic much. Getting, the hint, Hoseok asked him another question. “Do you have any part-time jobs?” 

Jungkook nodded. “I wait tables at Burgundee. That burger place downtown.”

“The one with the good cheese sticks? Doesn’t Jin hyung work there?” Jimin said, suddenly engaging in the conversation. “Can you get us discounts?” he whispered. Hoseok smacked him lightly on the head. Jungkook laughed, not scared anymore by Jimin’s cold demeanor earlier.

“I could try. You know Jin hyung? He’s really nice to me. A bit clumsy at work, but he’s a gentleman.” Jungkook smiled at them. Taehyung returned the same warm smile. 

“Hey, kid. No offense, but aren’t you, well, scared of us or something?” Hoseok didn’t want to make things awkward, but he found it weird, although pleasing. He was used to getting feared, but this was a nice, slightly odd, change. “Well, I couldn’t really judge you based on rumors. I should’ve thought of that more before.” he shot Taehyung an apologetic look. 

Taehyung nodded and looked at his hyungs. They seemed to like Jungkook, which was a good sign. They normally weren’t comfortable with people they just met, but there’s something about Jungkook that made him so like-able. The way he spoke softly, his gentle actions, how he’s so passionate about arts. 

Then Taehyung felt something itchy in his throat. He coughed into his sleeve. “Excuse me.” he quickly got up from his chair and rushed to the bathroom, coughing. 

As soon as he locked the cubicle door, he leaned on the sink. Something was stuck in his throat, and he did everything just to get it out. With one last violent cough, a spur of color went out. He felt dizzy, and at first he thought he was seeing things. There was no way he was high or drunk. The last party he went to was over a month ago, and he’s been clean for a few days.

When his vision cleared, he looked at the sink, only to be greeted by a mixture of flowers and his saliva. His eyes widened. He has heard about this, but never true. Even Jin and Yoongi told him about it, but he has never seen it happen. 

With another hack, he leaned over the sink. He thumped his chest and spat out one more petal. He slid down the floor and tried regaining his breaths. 

“Taehyung? We’re leaving.” Jimin knocked on the door. Taehyung kept silently for a bit, his throat sore and exhausted. The knocks became louder. “Tae? Are you okay in there?” Jimin asked, worry laced in his voice. “Uh, yeah. I’ll be out in a bit.” Taehyung weakly replied.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” he added with much more conviction

‘I need to to tell Jin’

[poop4u]

Dog is Love by Clive Wynne

#Poop4U

The author Clive Wynne sums up his book’s thesis in its title: Dog is Love: Why and How Your Dog Loves You. He argues, compellingly, that dogs aren’t special because of their intelligence, but because of their social bond to us, which after extensive research, he is happy to call “love”.

One might say that this is not quite as unique an argument as he suggests, but there is no better scientific explanation of our astoundingly close emotional relationship with dogs than in this book. It contains so much interesting information that I first began trying to summarize all the studies myself for you. Bad plan. Trying to rewrite his entire book in short form was probably not a good idea. What I’ll do is list a few, just to whet your appetite.

Before I do, I should mention that some of the studies are well known to many of us. For example: Belyaev’s “domesticated” foxes; Hare’s early arguments that dogs evolved to understand pointing gestures while wolves do not (it was Monique Udell, working with Wynne who disproved this); Coppinger’s hypothesis about wolves evolving into dogs through natural selection, to name a few. However, Wynne builds on these studies and many more to argue that the domestic dog’s behavior, physiology and genetics all suggest that the science doesn’t suggest, it downright demands, for us to acknowledge, that yes, dogs really do experience love, and we are the lucky recipients.

Here, then, are just a few of lesser-known studies that Wynne uses to make his case:

Dogs just really, really like to hang out with people: Mariana Bentosela found that wolves and dogs differed in how much time they spent within three feet of a seated person–familiar or unfamiliar. Wolves, who as we know can be super social and loving to familiar people, spent less time with familiar people than dogs did with unfamiliar ones. Think about that.

It is astounding, really how many dogs choose to hang with us when they could be doing so many other things. When Maggie chooses, over and over, to stay with me instead of doing the million other things she could be doing off leash and free, it makes my heart gushy.

Perhaps the most interesting research relates to the discovery that the genes of domestic dogs are similar to those of people with Williams Beuren Syndrome, which creates behavior described as “hyper social” and with “exceptional gregariousness”. (Note that many of the sites I searched focus on physical and cognitive problems, and say little about behavior, as in: “Children with Williams syndrome typically have a personality that is friendly, outgoing, and/or talkative,” from the Nat’l Organization for Rare Disorders.) However, Wynne visited a summer camp for children with the syndrome, and although he felt guilty about making the comparison, said it was like “watching a whole camp of kids pretending to be dogs”.

He even references the well-watched video, “Cat-friend vs. Dog-friend” by Craig and Parker. (The “dog friend” is hysterical, but I couldn’t help wanting to defend my super social cat Nellie while watching it.)

Remember the first study I mentioned, in which dogs hung out with unfamiliar people at high rates? That is hugely important, and key to understanding who dogs are. How many dogs treat every stranger as if they were their best friend? It’s downright bizarre if you think about it in evolutionary terms. Indeed, one of the challenges of being a parent of a WB Syndrome child is keeping them safe . . . imagine if your child believed ever single person they met was instantly their best friend.

So, we now know that dogs have a genetic make up very similar to that of children with WB Syndrome. BUT . . . are you thinking what I’ve been thinking about this? All dogs are not Golden Retrievers. For that matter, all Golden Retrievers are not Golden Retrievers, if you know what I mean. Plenty of dogs of many breeds are more reserved with strangers, and some are pretty darn reserved with their owners for that matter.

And now we know why, thanks to the research of Bridgett vonHoldt working with Monique Udell and the author, Clive Wynne. It turns out that there are three genes (at least) related to WB Syndrome, and different variations of these genes, found in both dogs and wolves, are consistent with their levels of sociability. Crazy cool stuff, yes?

And here’s a section in the book that is sure to get your attention: Wynne argues that domestic dogs have a stronger social hierarchy than wolves. Yeah, you read that right. Don’t panic, he is vehemently opposed to the concept of training dogs based on a “dominance hierarchy,” but he cites interesting studies that show wolves and dogs growled over a bone at similar rates, but the domestic dogs were more likely to have a winner who gets the bone, and a loser who gives up entirely, while the wolves stayed put, eating and growling with no winner or loser. Read more in the book–it’s an especially thought-provoking issue.

The author concludes that we owe dogs more than we are giving them, decrying dogs left alone all day with little interaction even in the evening, substandard shelters, irresponsible breeding, etc. Overall, it’s an important addition to the field, and a great addition to our libraries.

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Well, you gotta take your successes where you find them. We just returned from the Star of the North Stockdog Trial in Minnetrista, MN, and for the first two days it was Trial Field 2, Maggie 0. I had no idea how difficult this course was. The 500-yard outrun is one thing, but the field is a series of ridges that run horizontal between you and the sheep. The dog loses sight of the sheep at least twice during the outrun, and you lose sight of the sheep and your dog twice on the fetch. It’s a much tougher course than the one we ran on over Labor Day, and honestly I’m not sure I would have entered if I’d known how challenging it was. As another handler said “Poor Maggie! All these extra hard courses for her to deal with when she’s just started in Open.”

Here’s the (gorgeous) field, looking far less intimidating in the photo than in person. Those little ridges you see are actually quite deep, and you lose sight of your dog, and your dog loses sight of you, multiple times. This handler has sent her dog, who has disappeared on the way to his sheep, who you can see in the far distance.

Here’s another look at the undulating course:

My biggest disappointment on our first runs was that, when first sent on her outrun, Maggie ran behind us to the “exhaust pen” rather than looking for sheep up the field. It’s a new bad habit she started this summer, and I think it’s all about avoidance, as in: “These sheep close by are soooo much easier to deal with than the ones forever away, I’ll just work them.” Both times I left the post and did get her going up the field. On Friday she crossed over at the bottom of a ridge (I couldn’t see her) and ended up getting stuck on the sheep in the set out pens. On Saturday she finally found the right sheep but got stuck in a dip. I waited and waited and waited, and finally walked halfway down the course (never will 250 yards seem as far as when you have to walk out onto a course to rescue your dog). I found her lying down with the sheep grazing in front of a patch of water big enough to be called a pond. I suspect she simply got into that deep dip, had no idea where I was or what to do, and just abdicated. When she saw me she easily moved them down the field.

After Saturday I considered going home, wondering if I was just going to set Maggie back by making her run one more time on Sunday on this difficult course. But I finally decided to try again on Sunday, since she’d found the sheep Saturday and perhaps had learned what to do when the world went wonky and she and the sheep descended into the Bermuda Triangle. I’m glad we stayed. After cold, misty weather on Friday, and one hell of a lot of rain on Saturday, Sunday dawned blue sky and cool, but windy. We walked to the post mid afternoon when the wind picked up, the sheep were getting cranky after three days of running, and lots of dogs were having trouble getting them to stop eating grass and play the game. I tried not to obsess–would she find the sheep on her own or try for the exhaust again? Would she and the sheep disappear again in a deep dip and require me to leave the post yet again?

Whew. Maggie left the post and ran a gorgeous, huge outrun around to the back of the sheep. She did what looked like lovely lift (granted she was a tiny dot that I could barely see). I held my breath when she and the sheep disappeared two different times on the fetch, but each time, some tiny white sheep ears appeared behind the ridge with my little dog right behind them. She did a truly lovely fetch and wrapped the sheep around me well. Alas, the hungry, crabby sheep were too much for her on the drive, and she couldn’t get them pushed around the course. One large, horned ewe basically made it clear she was done with trialing thank you very much, and Maggie didn’t know what to do except bust in on her. We got DQ’d, very reasonably, by the judge.

I couldn’t fault her much–the sheep were getting worse and worse, and lots of good, more experienced dogs were having a lot of trouble. Of course, there are plenty of dogs out there that can handle sheep like that, but right now Maggie isn’t one of them. She might never be, but I am taking our successes where I can, and I was so happy that she figured out the course, put her big girl panties on and ignored the “easy” sheep.

One more trial next weekend, the last one of the season for us. It’s another famously hard course in which the dogs have to run through a stream to gather the sheep half hidden under some lovely old oak trees, and do a “dog-leg” fetch rather than bringing the sheep directly to you. They do tend to be sheep that Maggie rather likes (flighty versus heavy), so that’s a plus in our favor. I would be so happy to get numbers instead of letters, but if Maggie and I learn something important I’ll call it a success.

Here’s hoping you had a victory of sorts yourself last week, whether minor, like ours, or major. We’d all love to hear about it.

  Poop4U Blog via www.Poop4U.com Trisha, Khareem Sudlow