#academic freaks assemble

[dramaturgically-strong]

i need someone to write a deeply sexual essay about kendall roy. but also a really good essay with a well-developed thesis.

[solecize]

fic preview: save the date | san x reader

from middle school walls to lecture halls, choi san was your ultimate nemesis that, for most of your life, fought to do everything better than you. even worse, there was no escape from him when your older sister and his older brother were childhood sweethearts, disgustingly in love. years later, the inevitable wedding bells had now come around the corner for them and as her maid of honour, you had one goal: making sure nobody fucked up the wedding. specifically, you were not going to let san, the best man, fuck up the big day.

unfortunately, when the ring goes missing less than twenty hour hours before the wedding, you have no choice but to work with the said best man who you drunkenly slept with days before the wedding - yes, the same one that you hated for over a decade - to track down a ten thousand dollar ring. starting from midnight, it's a race against the clock for you and san to go on the wildest chase of your life to, well, save the date. 

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: san/female reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. non idol au, epic rom com, academic rivals, childhood enemies to lovers, fluff, slight angst 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. foul language, violence, blood, mention of drugs and drug use, general substance use (smoking and drinking), y/n and san get stranded in a foreign city together after embarking on adventure where they almost get scammed, jumped, etc., assigned seats on an airplane trope, unrequited pining, san gets a glo up after coming back from the military, more to be added 𝐍���𝐓𝐄. n/a 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. tbd.

  being entrusted with the role of maid of honour meant a lot of things to different people, but it was different for you. you happily accepted the title for your sister’s wedding with one main goal in mind: making sure that no one fucks up the big day. specifically, making sure that choi san did not fuck up the big day. 

  unfortunately, with less than twenty-four hours before the wedding due to ring for your sister and san’s older brother, you realized that you were the one that fucked up.

  if someone were to tell you that you ended up dodging a robbery, lugging around a broken e-scooter, outrunning a rabid wild animal, and losing your phone the night before your sister’s wedding, you would have asked them what drugs they were on. and given a year’s worth of stress in anticipating and planning and fittings, you’d likely even ask them to share some. the worse part was that, you’d actually fucked up forty-eight hours before your sister’s wedding and the night you were currently having was just the cherry on top.

  but, that is where you found yourself in a foreign city with no money and no idea how to get back to your hotel at four in the morning. the only thing you could do was stare at choi san, still in his clothes from the rehearsal dinner earlier that night and was preoccupied with nursing his bruised knuckles. 

  san was not a smoker, but he leaned against the wall of a closed coffee shop with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “you think this is all my fault, don’t you?” he grumbled, finally meeting your sharp gaze.

  this was not even the beginning of the story, though. the real beginning of the story begins in middle school circa 2012, when your first ever crush ruined everything before anything could even happen by simply opening his mouth. 

  choi san was the transfer student that all of the girls in your year whispered and giggled about. you only caught a glimpse of him on the first day of school when you could barely make out his face at the school assembly. 

  “he’s so freaking cute! did you get to see him, y/n?” 

  your best friend at the time jogged up to you at lunch and by this point in the day, you’d heard from nearly all your classmates about the mysterious new kid. you were a bit exasperated, feeling as though you were missing out.

  you shook your head. “no. i think i saw the side of his face, but that’s it.”

  “look at his instagram,” she swooned, tapping on her phone until his profile came up.

  you would never admit it aloud, but you thought your heart skip a beat. “that’s what he looks like? oh my god, he plays basketball, too?”

  that pretty much sealed the deal for you. without shame, you pulled out your own phone to follow san on social media, since it already looked like he was gaining mutuals from other people in your school. everyday from then on seemed to be a game of “can you spot your crush” at school and you got the closest when you lingered a little bit too long after gym class, long enough that you left as soon as basketball try-outs for the boys team began. 

  it was 2012 and nothing else mattered to you except crushing over choi san from respectable distance, gangnam style, one direction, and reading all of the hunger games books. it was like this for the first couple months at school, until you and san finally encountered one another.

  you heard from others that san was incredibly bright and academically gifted, so you were hoping that, he too, would join robotics club. it felt like a dream when your wishes came true and san walked into the first meeting of the season.

  “you’re totally staring at him,” whispered yeosang on this day, to which you elbowed him for. yes, you were definitely staring, but he could have just chose to keep his mouth shut.

  you’d avoided directly speaking to san for the first few meetings, just out of nerves alone. eventually, the club’s first major competition was to come around the corner and the club had to brainstorm their plan. 

  as one of the returning members from the year prior, you expected to be met with respect and have your opinions be considered important. the faculty supervisor had even told you that he had hopes for you taking over as captain in the next year, after the current leader, hongjoong, graduates. 

  “i can take charge of the programming team,” you offered, as hongjoong went over the challenge announcement of the competition.

  that was the moment everything went wrong.

  it looked there was no opposition, until you heard a chuckle from the other side of a room. you were confused, not recognizing the voice. spinning around, you saw that it was san and your heart dropped.

  “you? do you even know how to code?” his eyebrows were raised. 

  your jaw could have easily hit the floor, as you narrowed your eyes at him. “what?” was all you could say.

  “you’re a girl, there’s no way you should be in charge of programming.”

  that year, there were only three girls in robotics club, which was an improvement from the two the year before. it was you, who was the only female member with experience in the club, and then sunyoung and yena. 

  sunyoung never fucking spoke, she never even made eye contact with anyone. she kept to herself and was never going to speak up, but you knew that she was the highest ranking student in your year and had skipped an entire grade. you couldn’t believe sunyoung let that slide. meanwhile, yena always insisted that she was “one of the boys” and was the kind of girl to talk your head off about how she hates taylor swift. you might’ve even heard her murmur in agreement to what san said.

  “are you a fucking idiot?” your thirteen year old self snapped at san, eliciting gasps from around the room. 

  of course, your foul mouth came from none other than your headstrong older sister and at the same moment you began forming a life-long hatred for choi san, she was a couple blocks away at the high school, falling in love with choi san’s older brother during chemistry class. it was a classic high school love story, meeting as lab partners and experiencing first love in between shelves at the library. 

  one day, when your sister happily skipped into your room and sang that she now had a boyfriend, it had been weeks since you already declared san your nemesis. from what you remember, she was so head over heels for her lab partner that it was nauseating - she had to have been, since she was now marrying him over ten years later. 

  “he has a little brother your age, you know,” she said, later the same night. “goes to your school, maybe you’ve met him.”

  the two of you were relaxing on your bed, as your sister scooted closer to show you pictures of her new and first-ever boyfriend on her phone. you raised an eyebrow at her, wondering who she was talking about. 

  “maybe. what’s his name?” you asked.

  “san. choi san.”

[too-scared-to-tell-my-therapist]

Wednesday, 24 January, 2024 (ACTS Log)

today is the first day of ACTS. I'm kind of salty that they switched my agency. I was supposed to go to a preschool, but they put me with Jeffersontown Elementary. My first agency, OVEC, needed me to have a state-issued ID, but I'm 15 (no license), and I don't have a passport. yesterday I told Pluto about the Harry thing. we do this fun thing where we open the sticky notes app on our computers and type stuff to each other. then, after the other person reads it, we just delete it. It's a lot more discrete than talking in class, and on class policy, it's more inconspicuous than Google chat.

I just got to the classroom and I’ve been assigned to 5th grade. lucky me. I was wishing for the exact opposite, that I wouldn't get 5th grade. since I was assigned to a preschool originally, I had hoped to be put in kindergarten, but now that I’m here it's reminding me of my 5th grade. it's a public school. I'd forgotten how little 5th graders are, I was expecting something like 6th or 7th graders, but they’re 10. I’m supposed to be doing service work, but I’m kind of just sitting here. next time there's a break I'll ask if there's anything I can do. lunch for this grade is at 13:40, which is even later than third lunch, but I'll survive. once after an assembly ran over I had to wait until 13:25 to eat my lunch. at my elementary school, they did levels - like academic, honors, advanced - but I don’t think they do that here. There's one kid in this class who looks eerily similar to Sage and it's freaking me out. I’m trying to keep these entries to 1 page each but it's getting harder.

[redhairedwolfwitch]

Bubblegum + Bear - Part 1 - Sarah Reese x Fem!Reader - High School AU - Chicago Med

A/n: Part one of the collaboration between myself and Mysticmoonlight on AO3.

Summary: Sarah Reese, emo girl, wearer of all black, stumbles across Y/n S/n, lover of all things pastel and tie dye, right at the start of high school. The two couldn't be more different, and clash constantly. But the chemistry between the both of them? Undeniable... and we're not talking about the class.

Freshman orientation.

Sarah didn't think she'd ever seen so many students clambering up the bleachers to find their friends in a sports hall much larger than the one at her middle school.

Her eyes were drawn to you, a few rows below her and her friends.

You were sat alone, wearing a candy floss pink tie-dye shirt and light blue dungarees.

A chuckle from the friend next to her drew her attention away from you, meaning she didn't see you turn your head around to look at all the other students.

All you saw was a girl with brown curly hair, wearing an excessive amount of black clothing, sat with her friends, who also wore the same dark aesthetic.

///

Sarah didn't spot you again after the introduction assembly, since you weren't in the same homeroom as her.

It was only in her first American History class that she spotted you. She was running late since her friend decided to apply black lipstick on her in the middle of homeroom, claiming it would complete her outfit.

Clutching her American History textbook along with her notepad in her arms, Sarah began to speed-walk, glancing around for the room number that she had memorised last night.

Letting out a breath, she pushed open the door, glancing around to spot an empty desk... but you were the one sat to the right of it. There you were, textbook out, open on the required page, but your perkiness about the subject made Sarah want to vomit as she felt her stomach flutter.

Debating whether skipping the class would ruin her academic reputation already, she cleared her throat and slid into the seat, placing her things on the desk.

Boy, she was glad the desks were individual, and not paired together.

Her interest in the class diminished as the minutes went by, having discovered you were a budding history nerd and seemed to already know everything.

"We get it, candy floss head, but maybe let someone else contribute? Freaking know-it-all." Sarah grumbled under her breath, her eyes widening as she spotted you pick up your pen and decide that writing extra notes was better than putting your hand up.

Maybe you had heard her? Was she a bit harsh? No, you couldn't have heard her... but what if you did?

Her heart dropped as she watched you from her periphery throughout the class. You didn't raise your hand once. Her stomach churned as she realised this was her fault. Maybe she shouldn't have been so mean.

It was only when the bell rang, signalling the next class that she heard you speak again.

"Hey."

"What do you want? You look like a stick of bubblegum, have you thought about dressing your age?" Sarah retorted, biting her tongue as she noticed your frown.

"Your lipstick's a bit smudged. Here. In case there's none in the bathrooms." You stated, passing her a tissue before you turned on your heel, heading to your next class.

///

Luckily for you, the girl with the black lipstick who kept calling you candy floss and bubblegum was not in your elective psychology class, nor was she in your Language Arts class.

You saw her in PE though, standing with her group of friends as the PE teacher instructed you all through the first lesson.

The Cooper run. Run as far as you can around the track for 12 minutes.

Sarah let out a breath as she spotted you jogging by her, the pink in your hair that she teased you for earlier in the day catching her attention immediately.

"Sarah, the heck are you doing?"

She heard her friend exclaim, but she didn't care, speeding up to catch up with you.

"You're really trying, aren't you? You're sweating and everything-" Sarah rasped, getting cut off as you sped up a little to get away from her.

"Wow!" Sarah sarcastically murmured, running after you.

"Seriously, you're supposed to pace yourself-"

"Stop talking." You panted, hearing the call for the final minute, a call that had you slowing down gradually as your head began to pound.

"You look like you're going to puke." Sarah pointed out, her smile fading as you ignored her, walking for the rest of the minute before heading over to grab your water bottle.

"So freaking weird." Sarah whispered to herself as she watched you sat on the grass, gasping for breath.

///

It was almost ironic that your elective botany class was after your PE class. It was an advantage for the plants in the room at least since you were respiring so much after running so far.

That girl wasn't in this class either, and you avoided the cafeteria at lunch, choosing to eat outside then duck into the library.

You were sat on the floor reading the assigned reading for your Language Arts class when a pair of black combat boots lingered near you.

"You know they have chairs, right?" Sarah enquired, raising an eyebrow as you bookmarked your page, looking up at her with a sigh.

"They were all taken when I got here, now please excuse me, I'm trying to read." You replied, redirecting your attention to your book as Sarah's friends walked over, pulling her away.

///

Sarah couldn't get you out of her mind as she sat through her electives, computer science and human physiology, plus her Language Arts class, which you luckily weren't in.

It was only when it came to the next classes, geometry, and honours biology, that Sarah's stomach began to churn again.

She hadn't expected you in geometry, since it was a placement test class based on what you did as 8th graders. Yet there you were, sat near the window, reading your geometry textbook like you had no idea Sarah had just walked in.

Luckily, the remaining seats in that class had Sarah on the other side of the room to you, even as your eyes widened, recognising the familiar girl, minus the black lipstick due to the PE class.

Honours biology though, was where some of the other students thought a fight or a murder was about to occur.

"You have got to be joking." Sarah grumbled to herself as you walked past her desk, sitting at the desk behind her.

"We get it, you don't like me." You whispered as you grabbed a pen from your pencil case.

Even your pencil case was pastel and perky.

Sarah rolled her eyes, facing the front of the room as the teacher began to speak, but the lingering reminder that you were behind her bothered her internally.

///

You weren't in her French class, luckily, so there was not a murder that day. But having you in back-to-back classes with her some days, as she looked over her schedule? How was she ever going to get any work done if you kept bothering her?

Heading towards the bus stop, a breath of relief escaped her at the fact that you weren't there.

Earphones in, blasting My Chemical Romance, Sarah's eyes widened as the bus drove past you walking home. Your bright tie-dye t-shirt plus the pink in your hair catching her eye immediately.

You had your earphones in as you began to walk home, speed walking to avoid anyone and everyone as NSYNC* played, not even glancing up as a bus went past you.

///

Geography was the only class you hadn't had yet, as you glanced over your schedule when you got home. Chewing your lip instead of the homemade cookie you'd grabbed as a snack, you grimaced as you spotted the smudge from the chocolate chip cookie on the page from your finger.

Stuffing the cookie in your mouth, you made a beeline to the bathroom to wash your hands, eventually sitting down to work on your notes you had taken, plus any homework and assigned readings you had.

Yet, your thoughts began to linger as you stared at your biology textbook, remembering how angry that girl with the black lipstick was that you were in her classes.

Your stomach churned as you glanced at your schedule again, crossing your fingers that she wasn't in your geography class, or you'd have to get a new schedule entirely.

What was her name again?

Oh, Sarah Reese.

///

A yawn escaped your lips as you hurried to your first class, geography.

Your eyes widened as you walked into the person in front of you, stumbling back slightly before you caught your balance.

"What's going on?" You murmured, frowning as the person you'd bumped into actually answered you.

"He's putting us in a seating plan."

"Oh. Great." You rolled your eyes, holding your geography textbook closer to your chest.

"S/n, Y/n, Reese, Sarah." The teacher put his hand down on the desk near the window, your eyes widening as he stared at you, gesturing for you to move.

No doubt, whatever register he was reading off, had your middle school photos on.

Slipping into the seat closest to the window, you stared at the desk as the disgruntled emo girl walked over and took the seat next to you.

"Good morning class, I hope you like who you're sat next to, because the two of you will be working together on your first project of the semester. The assignment brief is being passed around right now, one per pair, but the theme of your project is Natural Disasters."

A smile crossed your lips as you turned to Sarah, whispering something only she could hear.

"So, the assignment is about you then?"

Sarah's eyes widened as she brought her water bottle away from her mouth, her cheeks like a hamster's before she swallowed the water, giving you a harsh glare.

You didn't want to admit that before she glared, she actually looked slightly cute, just for a second.

"Well, it wouldn't be about you, you're a walking synthetic." Sarah whispered back, noticing how you fiddled with the toggles of your baby blue hoodie for a moment.

"Not everyone walks around in pure black, you know. Some people have taste." You deadpanned, taking the assignment brief page as the person behind you dangled the pile in front of your face.

"Yeah, you wouldn't know, your whole vibe is Valentine’s Day candy." Sarah snapped back, reaching for the assignment brief as you put your hand down to stop her from snatching it.

"You heard. One per pair. Share something other than black lipstick." You grumbled, putting your elbow on your desk to read.

A hiss left your mouth as Sarah's elbow slammed into yours, a scent that you recognised from when you went to the mall for some stationery and clothes hitting your nose.

Burnt Marshmallow Leather Jacket. How cliche. Especially since she was wearing one today.

A snort coming from you caught Sarah's attention as she looked up from the assignment brief, glaring as you were giggling to yourself.

"Can you be serious for one moment?" Sarah growled, glaring at you as you went from laughing to glaring, reaching over to pull the assignment brief closer to you.

"S/n, Reese, I can tell you two are going to be delightful partners. Now stop with the flirting and get on with reading your assignment brief. After that, we can get started with today's lesson." The teacher announced, disrupting you and Sarah as her jaw dropped and you frowned confusedly, wondering at what point any of how you two were snarking at each other would be classed as flirting?

///

Sarah groaned as she began to walk down the corridors, wondering where the heck you were hiding this lunch time, whilst other thoughts crept into her mind.

Flirting? With you? Why would she even be flirting? Let alone with you? Ugh!

She spotted your home-tie dyed Vans between two bookshelves in the library, eventually spotting the rest of you, leaning against the bookshelf as you continued to read your assigned Language Arts readings.

"We need to talk." Sarah began, frowning as she spotted you had your earphones in, resulting in her kicking your ankle, a little harder than she'd originally intended, seeing you wince, remove your earphone, and glare at her.

"What? Come to bother me now at lunch too?" You glared, slipping your bookmark into your book.

"We need to talk. I don't know about you, but I actually care about my grades, and you seem to have some intelligence, since, annoyingly, you're in geometry and honours biology... with me. If we want this geography project to go well, we have to, we have to work together." Sarah winced as the words tasted funny on her tongue.

"Fine. What are you doing after school tonight? We can decide on a topic and start some primary research." You suggested, folding your arms as Sarah shuffled from one foot to the other in thought.

"Fine. Where do you live?"

"You're not going to ask your parents’ permission?" You raised an eyebrow, regretting that you asked as Sarah glared at you.

"Where do you live?" She gritted her teeth, not wanting to tell you anything about her personal life.

"It's within walking distance. We can walk. Meet me after school, I have botany last." You dismissed her, thumbing over your schedule.

"Out of all the electives, you chose botany?"

"And psychology. Like, I know you do computer science and human physiology. Not a stalker. I just spoke to someone in my Language Arts class who chose the same electives as you." You explained, rolling your eyes as Sarah glared at you.

"Whatever. AJ talks too much." Sarah brushed you off, about to turn on her heel and leave.

"See you wherever botany class is held."

"It's the greenhouse, genius!" You called after her, whispering an apology as you were told to shush by one of the older students.

///

"What's up with you? You have a fight with that bubblegum child again?"

Sarah glanced up from where she sat in her French class, her glare melting as her friend raised an eyebrow.

"Something like that. Why?"

"You're glaring daggers into your French task." Her friend deadpanned, leaving her to giggle as Sarah realised, she was slightly behind in answering her questions.

///

Tapping the toe of her black combat boot against the concrete, Sarah checked her watch as she waited for you to get out of botany class.

"What took you so- why the heck do you have a plant?" Sarah frowned, glancing at the potted plant in your arms, whilst you balanced your textbooks and backpack on your other arm.

"Hey, Casper has feelings too."

"You named the plant... you really are ridiculous. And now I'm going to your house of ridiculousness-"

"Everyone else in the house is at work, so it'll be just us too. There's leftover dinner in the fridge, but I got left pizza money too... if you can stand to be in my presence that long anyway." You rambled, carefully balancing Casper the cactus so you didn't get stabbed with the spines.

Sarah didn't reply, instead choosing to stare at her surroundings and ignore you, only looking at you when you turned a corner or crossed the street.

"We're here." You murmured, fumbling for your key as Sarah stared at the place.

It was small, with soft wood tones, white trimmings and a dark green door. The whole place screamed homey, and immediately, Sarah knew she could never compete.

"Want a cookie? They're homemade?" You offered her a tupperware box, half a cookie already in your mouth as Sarah's eyes widened, quickly taking one as if the box would self-destruct otherwise.

"My room's upstairs. We can do the research there." You explained, ditching your tie dye vans at the bottom of the stairs, near the shoe rack.

Sarah froze as she watched how haphazard you were, her eyes following you make it halfway up the stairs with all your things, balancing Casper on your textbooks.

"You coming up, or what?"

///

"Typical. This room is so, you..." Sarah muttered to herself as she followed you into your room. There it was. Pastel or tie dye. Or pastel tie dye.

"You know, that would have been a compliment if your attitude wasn't as dark as that leather jacket." You retorted, picking up a pen.

"We are not doing the entire project in baby pink ink." Reese began, sitting up from where she had stumbled when sitting down on the bean bag.

"Well, it needs some colour. It can't be pure black, with white textboxes. That doesn't catch anyone's eye." You argued, sighing as you looked over your pen pot, picking up a normal boring blue ballpoint pen.

"Catch anyone's eye? Your colour scheme offends my eyesight." Sarah growled, freezing as you let out a groan.

"You know what, forget the colour scheme. What natural disaster are we doing?"

///

"So, why comp sci and human physiology?" You enquired after you and Sarah had figured out that you would be doing a project on volcanos, specifically, Yellowstone. After arguing between earthquakes and volcanoes for 40 minutes.

"Why do you care?" Sarah grumbled, laying back on the bean bag as you stood up to get a drink.

"Can't we have one normal conversation without fighting? It's exhausting and we're only on day 2. If we're doing this for four years... who am I kidding, if you want to do this for four years, be my guest, but I want to get good grades." You replied, flopping on your bed as Sarah huffed.

"I chose computer science because I like it, and human physiology looked interesting and would complement honours biology. Why did you pick botany and psychology?" Sarah replied, looking up to spot you resting on your elbows to look at her.

"I like plants, and psychology looked cool." You shrugged, getting up to grab your geography textbook to read about Yellowstone, plopping down on the bean bag, nearly sitting in Sarah's lap.

"Can you not?" Sarah grumbled, pushing at your thigh for you to get off.

"Trying to read. So, Yellowstone is a supervolcano, in the northwest corner of Wyoming..."

Sarah rolled her eyes as she heard you ramble off facts about Yellowstone volcano.

This was going to be a long four years.

///

[politicotalk]

Cultural Identity in Canadian Politics

When I talk to foreign people about Canadian politics, they always come to me and ask me what the hell the issues in Canada can be. That place looks like paradise land. Is the biggest issue how to avoid having your car buried in a pile of snow, or how to teach mooses how to play hockey. All countries have their internal issues, including countries such as Canada, Norway or Sweden which seem to be perfect on the outside. I’m going to try to explain what the major issues Canadian Federal politics face, issues specific to Canada.

Indigenous people Indigenous people of Canada, also refered to as the aboriginal people, have been in the shadows, cast aside, for a very long time in Canadian everyday politics. Actually, since the arrival of European colonisers in the 16th century, they have been sort of cast aside. The first Europeans to come and stay were the French, and they had a lot of issues when they came. First off, they had scurvy; the indigenous helped them with that. Secondly, they didn’t know how to survive harsh Canadian winters, the indigenous people helped them with that. French and First Nations traded with each other and created alliances and systems of relations where both parties benefited from each other’s presence. French population grew in the mean time. The British came and settled, and the tables really started to turn after the American Revolution; a lot of people living in the 13 colonies were faithful to the British Crown and fled North to modern day Canada. This brought a complete shift in demography; all of a sudden, the indigenous (and French) populations were outnumbered by the British. First Nations were pushed out of towns slowly but surely. Come the 19th century, bad boy United States was a major threat. They had something called “manifest destiny”, where they saw the West as a baren wasteland in need of colonisation by white people. The Canadian government freaked out, because this meant they could encapsulate Canada and absorb it into the United States. Well, the Canadian government also looked at the west and thought “well fuck, bud, we gotta claim this land”, so they started building a railroad from modern-day Ontario to British Columbia, all the way on the Pacific Coast. There was a big problem though, you see, this area wasn’t a wasteland; there were a lot of First Nations living there, including aboriginal and Métis people. What did the government do? Adopt the Indian Act in 1876. Yeah, no joke, it’s literally called the “Indian Act”. This land these people lived on was full of natural resources, but these people would not cede to the federal government because fuck you. So the government came up with this stupid law. Indigenous people were forbidden from creating their own governments, hold religious ceremonies, hire lawyers or go against the government over land claims. From the 20th century, when education became an important thing for children, with the help of local religious groups, the government started opening what is called “residential schools” and this is brought on a clusterfuck of problems we are faced with today.

The government gave itself the right to take Indigenous children from their families and force them to go to these schools, where they resided. The parents had no say in whether these children were allowed to go or not. These kids had their heads shaved, were forced to keep short hair, banned from wearing any traditional clothing, speak in their native languages – instead they had to speak English or French –, practice their religion – instead, they were brought into the Catholic Church or any Protestant Churches – and they were banned from contacting their families. I mention hair, some people might thing “so what?”; well, long hair is really important in Native Americans’ cultures. It’s as if you were to tell someone from Bavaria that they were no longer allowed to wear lederhosen. The point of this was to strip these kids of their identities, make them white, and so they would cede their lands more easily to the government, so it could profit off of it.

I can’t tell you how badly that backfired. From the 90’s, these poor kids who were, for the majority, adults started to take the government to court for wrongful abuse made towards them, in claims of abuse done towards them. You probably know that the Catholic Church does not have the best record, especially when it comes to violence done towards children, and Ireland was on the forefront of the international stage years ago for allegations of sexual abuse done by members of the clergy towards children. Well, this wasn’t an exception for Canada. To further prove this, the bodies of thousands of dead children were found buried all around these ex-residential schools in 2020. This was orchestrated by the Canadian government AND the Churches.

Thankfully, the Indian Act, though it still technically exists, is kinda stripped. Aboriginal people have the right to assembly, have the right to practice their religion, speak their languages, practice their cultures, etc. All good right? Right?

Well, not quite, this comes to a second point that was brought up again in the recent elections. What would the candidates do in regards to clean drinking water for the aboriginal? To examine this question, we need to rewind, again (sorry). The aboriginal live, for the majority, on what is called “reserves”. They are lands that are under their local governments’ control, where they all live. If you went to Montreal, Toronto, or even Moose Jaw, you could turn on the tap in the kitchen and drink the water there, no problem. Well, the residences on these reserves, not only are in deplorable states, but they also do not have clean, running water. Canada is not the Sahara. We are not lacking water. Canada has actually the world’s highest amount of natural drinking water. Fly over the country and it’s rivers and lakes everywhere. Yet, these people don’t have running water? So this topic has come back several times in the elections over the last 20 years and no one has done anything.

This is barely scratching the surface of issues surrounding aboriginal people in Canada. These two issues were the ones that came up in the last federal leaders’ debate.

French people Canada is a multicultural country. As mentioned before, the French-speaking population has been in Canada for over four centuries now. They have also been marginalised in some ways, and several attempts to assimilate have been made, but to no avail. Today, the French-speaking population is spread over all of Canada’s provinces, but the majority resides in the province of Quebec, where the official language is only French. Several French speakers live in Acadia (in the East of Canada) in Ontario and in Manitoba. Only New Brunswick is officially bilingual. French people – especially the people of Quebec – have seen themselves as different from the English speakers. They see themselves as an entirely different nation (I should point out that I use the term “nation” in the sense of the term synonymous with “population”). Issues flared up in the late 60’s and lead to a lot of tension in the 70’s, where the culture really started to solidify, and lead to a referendum in 1981 and 1995 in regards to whether Quebec wanted to become an independent country. In short, both times, the answer was no. In 1995, the answer was very slim, with the results being 49% to 51%. The situation in Quebec is very similar as the one in Catalonia and Scotland. 1995 might seem like yesterday to some, but I will remind you that this was 26 years ago. Things change in 26 years. New people are made, old people die. The thought of independence is a far away memory in most people’s imagination, and the young people are pretty cool with not wanting an independent country. This doesn’t mean that all of a sudden, Quebeckers are cool with the federal government and kissing the flag; they still see themselves as different, but have come to accept their place in the country, as the government has accommodated more and more for the French language, and given Quebec flexibility over their governance. But you see, Quebec’s aggressive stance over its language gives the other French speakers the ability to continue existing; media, culture and academic content come largely from Quebec. Without Quebec, these other French speaking cultures fear ceasing to exist.

So what about today? Well, firstly, the health sector is governed by the provinces. This means that Quebec was mostly in control of handling Covid, and they want to deal with all issues surrounding this.

Another thing to mention, is that, most likely because of its catholic culture, Quebec is very left leaning. Most votes for the NDP and a portion for the Liberals come from Quebec, and barely any go to the Conservative. They are in favour of public health services, public education with low fees for higher education, help to families and issues talking the environment. Canada currently heavily relies on industries in the primary sector, especially the West. So if Quebec is so in favour of not allowing pipelines to be built, or not excavating for oil, this wouldn’t affect them so much.

In conclusion, this is what Canada has to deal with, long tensions amongst its three main cultural groups. Let me know what your thoughts are and what your country is tackling in terms of internal conflicts.

[rinusagitora]

The gray comes with you.

Fandom: BLEACH

Characters: Toushirou Hitsugaya, Rangiku Matsumoto

Pairings: HitsuKarin

Words: 1.4k

Summary: Alternate Universe. Ghost!AU. Chapter 1/?, updated on Sundays. WARNINGS- explicit violence;  Toushirou Hitsugaya hasn't lived an easy life. High school is no easier, as Toushirou is being hunted by violent bullies.

AO3

The screech of his alarm clock would open his funeral.

He groaned as he blindly ran a hand over his nightstand in search of his cell. As soon as he was upright, he felt the charge accumulated over his nine hour slumber slough off like water down the drain. It never ceased to amaze him how he stayed on his feet every morning when he was overcome by such a spell.

He opened his music app, played an upbeat pop album to hopefully wake him and cure the dread he woke with every morning with its contagious energy, and then bravely exited the confines of his bedroom.

His home was eerily empty. Momo began to leave earlier and earlier over the course of the last few weeks. She wasn’t home much, but when she was, she locked herself in her room until she left again in the early hours of the morning. His grandmother was a busy editor despite her age. That was alright, of course, but the house was made of early birds and it was surreal when not a thing stirred, like he didn’t belong.

He brushed his teeth, combed his air, quickly tired of his stupid music and tried to find something with more interesting sound, and he left home with a warm Hot Pocket in hand and a creepy podcast in his earbuds. His podcasts were like his friends, the only ones who spoke to him outside of what school required. And he didn’t mind it. Podcasts were only corny, they never made him limp.

The same couldn’t be said for his classmates.

Every morning, when the clock on the face of his school’s exterior appeared over the houses, he felt nauseous. His head turned side to side to scan for company.

The reason he lived most of his academic experience alone was his appearance. His hair was pale, his eyes were unearthly blue-green. The only thing that looked normal about him was his tan. Otherwise, he looked like a wraith. His classmates were unanimously suspicious of him. When he wasn’t ostracized, he wasn’t just picked on, he was often left injured.

He wondered if the omen was the misery it would cause his childhood, or something more sinister he was blind to.

“Hey, Freak-tsugaya!”

His concern was in the present.

He broke into a run for the school entrance. Bazzard and Cang Du, though meatheads, were expert predators. And he was prey, he had little option aside from running.

He rushed through the open front doors and ran head-first into Cang Du’s elbow. He heard the collision, he dropped like a brick to the floor, and stars exploded in his vision as his head landed on the hard tile. 

“Don’t you know to answer when I’m trynna talk to you, freak?” Bazzard asked as he writhed. “Where’ve your manners gone? Do we needa teach you some?”

His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as Bazzard raised his fist. He rolled onto his hands and pushed himself up. Cang Du grabbed him by his neck. He was slammed into the shoe lockers four times. Pain did not capture how it felt: like he was beat against a curb corner instead of thin metal. He spat in Cang Du's eye and kicked him in the groin. Cang Du doubled over with a quiet grunt. When he turned to run, Bazzard grabbed him by his white hair and yanked him to the ground again. His face was stomped on. Blood flooded his mouth, he turned onto his side and spat out his front teeth and blood and mucus.

“What the hell are you sons of bitches doing!?”

Laughter followed in the wake of Bazzard and Cang Du. He cracked his eyes open to meet Rangiku’s grimace.

“Oh geez, they did quite a number on you,” Rangiku winced. She pulled him onto his feet and held him up by his waist. “Kotetsu-san is in today. Let’s get you patched up, kid. You poor bastard.”

He grasped Rangiku’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he told her.

“Me too,” Rangiku replied. “I think you lost some teeth.”

“They’re back there,” he said. “Those two are getting ballsier. I haven’t had any teeth knocked out before.” His tongue ran over the holes in his gums and the cut over his lip. He hoped he didn’t need stitches. He knew better than to hold his breath, though.

“Hitsugaya-kun, we should go to the police. They’re getting out of hand. I won’t be able to swoop in to save you someday, and that may be the day they end up maiming you. Or worse,” Rangiku warned him.

He would have frowned if his face didn’t ache so. He was already such a lonesome boy, Momo and his grandmother knew that. They had their own lives to grapple with and he knew his tribulations only put more stress on them. He couldn’t continue to tax them anymore. “Investigations are lengthy,” he lied, “I understand what you’re telling me, but I can’t do that to my family, Matsumoto.”

Rangiku frowned but said nothing more. He sat on a plastic chair upon entrance into the nurse’s office. The head nurse cursed as she turned around to greet them. He was passed a washrag to catch the blood that poured off his chin onto his top. His uniform was beyond salvaging by that time.

“Can I get a new shirt? I can’t go to class like this,” he asked. 

“You want a new shirt? Hitsugaya-kun, you should be going to the hospital. You need stitches!” Isane scoffed.

“I know you’re trained to handle minor injuries, Kotetsu. Let’s not make a big deal out of this. I just tripped.”

“And got cut that bad?” Isane retorted.

“Shit, I’m not exactly a tumbler.”

Isane’s eyes rolled. “Watch your language. I’ll wash your mouth out with chili peppers.”

“Now you’re only giving me incentive to act even more improper. Momo used to make the best stuffed chili peppers.” He missed his sister’s cooking…. “A-anyways, I would appreciate it if you stitched me up. I’ve got a quiz this morning I can’t miss.” 

“Alright, but I won’t like it.” Isane said. He watched as she prepped topical sanitation and sutures. Rangiku returned with a new shirt for him. He unbuttoned his soiled top and handed it to Rangiku in a bunch. He still oozed blood from the cut across his lips, so he chose to remain topless until he was sewn shut. At least his uniform slacks were a void for stains.

“I hope your sister’s doing well,” Isane said. “The last we met she was acting strangely. She was skittish, and she kept giving me different explanations for her black eye. Do you know anything, Hitsugaya-kun?”

He shook his head. He couldn’t figure out why Isane tried to carry on a conversation when he couldn’t move his face, but he would just be thankful someone took notice of his sister’s behavior too.

Isane made quick work of his face. It wasn’t pretty, but it was functional.

“Take an ibuprofen as prescribed on the bottle, clean the seams with isopropyl alcohol. See me again in about a month and a half so I can take those out. And don’t pick at them,” Isane instructed as he licked up the seam on the inside of his lip.

He thanked Isane and then he buttoned up his borrowed shirt. It was enormous on his tiny frame, but it was worn and comfortable so he supposed it didn’t matter.

“There’s an assembly this morning, Hitsugaya,” Rangiku told him as they left the nurse’s office. “Take a wild guess what it’s about.”

“Bullying again?”

“Bullseye,” she replied. The irony didn’t escape him. “You can crash in the faculty room until classes start.”

“I’m surprised the headmaster thinks it’ll do anything,” he snorted. “Who am I kidding? I’m totally unsurprised by bureaucracy’s naive belief that team spirit and making victims shake hands with their victimizers will fix everything. What a bunch of soft bastards.”

Rangiku smiled sympathetically. “My thoughts exactly. You poor thing.”

He sat on the couch in the staff lounge alone. Rangiku had to supervise the hallways, and that was fine by him. He only realized how exhausted he was when he sunk into the gaudy-patterned cushions. He was too tired to occupy his time with mobile games or homework or even his thoughts. He was sore, he felt like he decayed in that place, like his flesh melted off his bones and his juices seeped into the floor. High school was built to enable the strong and murder the weak. He couldn’t tell who he hated more: the entire establishment, or his feeble self.

Later he peeled himself from the couch and made it to class without any fuss from his schoolmates. He lamely stared at the zigzagged hairline of the girl in front of him until homeroom began. He hoped his lumps wouldn’t interfere with his notes….

[myownprivate-johnnyutah]

If Found (Chapter 1)

AN: A Fluff-as-Fuck Penpals Story because we’re in a fuckin’ pandemic and I want to write about yearning, goddamnit. I have no outline, no plan and am just going wild with it. 

Synopsis: After losing a notebook in a Brooklyn bar two years ago, Alana Miles has lost a few more things and gained some others. Lost? Her tiny Brooklyn apartment, her first love-turned fiancé, their shared cat. Gained? A small rental house in her hometown, a second book deal, a rescue bulldog and a facelss email pen pal she may or may not be falling for. (AO3)

Wordcount: 1,530

September 2020

It’s a little early to be up for a Saturday, but she cracks open her laptop anyway— careful not to jostle the sleeping bulldog deep snoring across her legs. Alana has tried to let herself sleep in on weekends, lately. With the weekdays full of deadlines, interviews and long calls with her editor normally kicking off before her morning coffee’s kicked in, the few blissful hours of no screens and light-blocking blinds on Saturdays were usually her favorite thing. Usually.

It’s not her fault, though. Because of stupid timezones, there was a message waiting for her that she’d be itching to see and even after years (plural) of back-and-forth emails with her accidental pen pal, the little rush of seeing where the conversation would go next was enough to make her a bit more of a morning person (even when she doesn’t have to be). 

To: Miles2Go@mail.net.

From: KCR@mail.net

Subject: RE: RE: RE: The Not-Divorce is Finalized! 

A, 

Sure, okay, I believe you.

I know you said you were fine and I understand I’m maybe half-obligated by the terms of our friendship to take that at face value and instead pivot to asking you about your day or the book proposal or whether you got around to reading that book I sent you (it’s a chapbook, honestly, and you pretty much read for a living). And I will ask those things. 

But I wanted to add, RE: your point on “closure not even being a fuckin’ real thing” that I’m not sure if I agree. Provided you’re giving yourself the grace to step away and close the chapters, relationships, painful memories in order to open something up, it’s as real as you want to make it. 

But what you’re going through (all of it), it’s draining and exhausting and you’re carrying a lot. Closing a door doesn’t mean everything’s resolved behind the door, just that you’ve resolved to let yourself be on the other side. 

I think you’re brave and good, if that helps. And I hope you’ll read that goddamn chapbook so we can talk about it.  

Yours, 

KC

Welp. That’ll need coffee to respond to, she thought, slowly inching her legs out from under Bruce (who let out an insulted snort before snuffling back into the duvet) and heading out to the kitchen. 

Mug in hand, she made her way out to the porch and took in the fall morning: the lake’s got the beginning reflections of red and orange showing through and the smell of burning leaves (they still do that out here) is already making its way to her door. The tiny one bedroom house she’d been renting is about five minutes from where she grew up (where her parents still live). It’s modest (if maybe cramped) but has big windows, a monthly rent that doesn’t drain her bank account beyond recovery and lets her be close to her mom for doctor’s appointments and long meetings with specialists that she trades off with her sister and brother. 

She leaves the door open a crack, since Bruce is unlikely to last long in the bed alone before stumbling out to his sunny porch bed, and takes a seat on her own “grown-up porch couch” — an oversized wicker basket chair her little brother salvaged from a friends’ student house and spray painted white to look less wretched, paired with some overly fluffy pillows her twin sister bought her. She cracked open her computer again and tried to figure out how she’d respond.

She tried, not infrequently, to picture KC. She was sure he was good looking, despite that name feeling so deeply undignified and childish for a man in his forties. (Or is he fifty by now? A funny thing about surprise pen pals is you never really exchange birthdates or A/S/L — and, in their case, they just went for the emotional jugular). She imagined a doe-eyed John Cusack-type (maybe a bit more “High Fidelity,” actually) or, of course, a Tom Hanks “You’ve Got Mail” has crossed her mind but neither really ever felt right. 

She knew a lot about him, after nearly two years of correspondence. He’s told her about the long scar going up his stomach that he got in a motorcycle accident (how he’ll forget its there even after 20 years); she knows he works in film but simply says “I help people tell lies for a living” when she asks for specifics; she knows he fell in love a few years back, after thinking he was never going to fall in love again (and that he has a gift for emphasizing the sweet of a bittersweet ending) and she know she’s a Virgo with a Cancer moon. He knew a lot about her, too: He knew birds freaked her out, that she was in the middle of final proofs of her first book and the proposal on her second; he knew she broke off an engagement (and thus a relationship spanning nearly all of her 20s) in the last year and reflexively performed being cavalier about it; he knew her mom was sick and that she left the life (the one she secretly wasn’t all that wild about) in Brooklyn to be closer to her.

It’s funny the way these little stories and pieces of ourselves can be assembled to make a person feel so whole and so close, even if they’re thousands of miles away and you’ve never seen their face and you probably wouldn’t have met if it weren’t for the right amount of happy accidents flowing in succession. 

He was her happy accident and, if she were the fate-believing type she’d believe it was some of that kismet that brought him to that Fort Green bar on that rainy afternoon. She’d been transcribing some notes in one of her many junk-ish notebooks (full of story ideas, a few email addresses and phone numbers for sources, a scribbled quote, some ticket stubs and a lone piece of gum between the back pages (whoops) — all organized by chaos) and got a call from Brandon, her then-fiancé reminding her that they’d need to leave their Greenpoint apartment for his department chair’s dinner party on the Upper West Side (a thing she’d forgotten she’d agreed to do) shortly and if she was still stopping to grab the wine. 

In her rush to settle up her tab, scamper to the liquor store next door and procure a fancy-ass bottle for the academic circle jerk, she left the notebook behind. Luckily, she’d remembered to scrawl her email in the front cover that time —she wasn’t going to let some rando find her address!

KC, as he told her later in one of their subsequent emails, found it and “began trying to decipher its many, many mysteries (the gum, for example).” 

She couldn’t be mad, she 100 percent would’ve done the same thing if fate, kismet, the universe’s funky algorithm, who knows, left someone else’s brain-dump to her doorstep. Between that confession (and the charming apology that came with it), the emails just didn’t stop — long after he’d sent the book back. 

Despite this two year friendship, she hasn’t seen his face — and only recently heard his voice. She knows he’s older than her 34 years by a not-small amount.  (He doesn’t have an instagram or a Twitter and when she asked him why he responded “Oh, that. What would I do with that stuff, really?”) And 95% of the time it doesn’t bother her. But then she sees emails like that and thinks of his deep, thoughtful voice (the calm, intentional pauses when he speaks that make everything go soft and quiet over the phone line) and something in her twitches. 

It’s been a long 18 months of being very single and maybe, just maybe it’s messing with her head to have such careful, considerate attention 4-8 (depending on how much they write and how busy they are) times a week. 

To: KCR@mail.net

From: Miles2Go@mail.net.

Subject: Doors Open & Closed — moving on.

KC, 

That poet soul of yours is working overtime today, bud. It’s too early for my icy heart to thaw the way it needs to if I’m going to adequately respond, so take this: I know. You’re right. I’ll try. Thank you. 

And try to let it be the end of this for now. 

I’m digitally and spiritually cleansing this space and cracking open this sad  pamphlet of a book you sent me. Stand by for my thoughts. 

Chilliest regards (with a gooey center), 

A

P.S. You promised me that shortlist of “films I need to watch now that I work from home and can watch movies all day.” Keep in mind, my attention span is like my love life: short, sad and ridiculous. 

She hits send and quickly checks in on the few dangling work emails that couldn’t wait until Monday. It’ll be a few hours before her West Coaster pen pal is up and a few more before he’s near a screen. He’s an early riser, but more of a yoga, outdoors-y, going jogging (ugh) kind than a feverish AM emailer. But she’ll forgive him that one (admittedly well-adjusted) flaw for now.

[antiquecompass]

Ficlet: Chains of Love

Forgot to post this over here, but a tiny LAHL Xicheng Valentine’s Day Ficlet, featuring siblings, paper chains, and other chains.

In many ways having his brother living in his ridiculous historical mansion not even thirty minutes away made Jiang Cheng’s life easier. In other ways it made it an absolute goddamned burden. Like now, when his brother decided to waltz into the Jiang Industries Pittsfield Location, right into Jiang Cheng’s office, to find him doing his best to be a supportive partner and help construct the ridiculous amounts of red, white, and pink paper chains for all the Lan Academy elementary school Valentine Day parties.

Jiang Cheng didn’t even have a chance to duck and hide as Wei Ying quickly snapped an entire series of photos.

“I’m sending these to everyone I know,” Wei Ying said.

“Get the fuck out of my building,” Jiang Cheng said, throwing one of his many glue sticks at his brother’s head.

“How in the hell did Xichen,” he picked up one of the finished chains, “rope you into this one? Chain you into Arts and Crafts hell? Ensnare you into--”

“You can stop at any time,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Fair,” Wei Ying agreed. “Still--how?”

“Have you seen his disappointed face?” Jiang Cheng asked.

Wei Ying shuddered. “Enough said.” He sat down, dropping a paper bag with a large grease stain in the middle of the table. “I brought you curly fries because I was writing about a character eating curly fries, and then I needed some for myself, and then I thought of you, sitting here in Pittsfield, probably trying to eat all that damn trail mix--”

“The trail mix is good.”

“And I simply had to save you,” Wei Ying said. He took a stack of the pre-cut strips and a glue stick and started working. “Isn’t this something the PTA is supposed to do? Parent volunteers?”

Jiang Cheng sighed. “You know most of the kids at Lan Academy are boarders, right? Very few of them, unless they are Lans, are day school students.”

Wei Ying made a face. “Sucks,” he said. “They’re little kids.”

“Which is why the teachers, volunteers, and older students help, but with the increased attendance numbers, they needed even more help this year.”

“They’re going to need a new building soon. I can’t imagine the Lans want classroom trailers on their properties.”

Jiang Cheng did not say a damn word.

“Oh, what the fuck did you do?” Wei Ying asked.

“It’s a charitable donation,” Jiang Cheng said.

“You bought Xichen a friggin’ building?”

“Donated,” Jiang Cheng corrected.

“And I assume Jiang Industries will be doing the construction as well? At a discounted price? Who’s the architect? One of Xiao Xingchen’s brothers?”

Jiang Cheng tried to focus on getting the paper chains perfectly even.

“How’re those business ethics going for you?” Wei Ying asked.

Now that was a step too far. He glared at his brother. “This will be the sixteenth time Jiang Industries has donated a building and its workforce to a school. This is the first time it’s in the family, so to speak, and since no one seems bothered about my business ethics paying for their Red Sox, Celtics, Bruins, or Pats tickets, I don’t want to hear a single fucking word about helping put a much-needed building up at the school so personally connected to our family. And it’s my money that’s the bulk of the donation, not Jiang Industries, not the Jiang Foundation, mine.”

When Great-grandfather Yu passed, he left them all sizable inheritances, but Jiang Cheng had wound up with the bulk of it. The only instruction had been to use it to further good in the world. Jiang Cheng had been sitting on the majority of the money, letting it gain interest, since he was fourteen.

Xichen was determined to open up Lan Academy as much as possible to all students who could live-up to their academic standards. He was determined to do it, even if it meant the majority of the students would be scholarship kids. He was determined to make Lan Academy the premier school for the local kids and families, so they’d have a chance at a truly world-class education. He was determined, but the Academy simply didn’t have the facilities for such a swell in numbers, and if left to the board, a new building wouldn't be seen until Lan Sizhui was ready to retire as headmaster.

So, Jiang Cheng made a decision.

Wei Ying laughed. “Look who just won Boyfriend of the Century.” He threw a completed paper chain at Jiang Cheng’s head. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Xichen. Here’s the plan for a brand-new school building and the check to pay for it.”

“I wasn’t planning on bringing it up until the next Board Meeting when I can publicly hand over the donation and give them the proposal,” Jiang Cheng said.

“So, then what did you get him for Valentine’s Day?”

“A new set of his fancy water color paints and brushes,” Jiang Cheng said. “He was running out.”

He’d also adorned his person with a little surprise for Xichen that his brother was never, ever finding out about, but that wasn’t any of Wei Ying’s business anyway, nor was he saving it for Valentine's Day.

Wei Ying sighed. “How can you be so pragmatic and so romantic at the same time? You leave me in utter despair sometimes, little brother.”

“The feeling is absolutely mutual,” Jiang Cheng said.

“No flowers?”

“You know how he feels about plants that aren’t in pots and I can’t keep giving him orchids. We’re running out of room,” Jiang Cheng said. “Some of us don’t have our own greenhouses.

“Don’t be jealous. And technically Lan Xichen sort of owns the Lan Academy greenhouses,” Wei Ying said. “What about candy?” he asked.

“I already get him artisan fair-trade chocolate truffles or fudge once a week,” Jiang Cheng said. "Twice if it's a bad week."

Wei Ying sighed as he completed another paper chain. “And you both prefer dinner at home, so that’s out as well.”

“You’re the same as me,” Jiang Cheng said. “What are your plans outside of shuffling your kid off on Molly for the night?”

“Molly volunteered to host a sleepover,” Wei Ying corrected. He grinned as yet another paper chain joined the pile, a distracted Wei Ying always somehow a very productive Wei Ying. “And, yes, my plans are an empty house and a dinner at home. Do you really want to know more than that? Are some pointers needed? Some help? Some advice? Xichen did just turn forty.”

It was absolutely beneath Jiang Cheng, as the CEO of his company, as a grown-ass man himself, to start a slap-fight with his older brother, but he felt that it was completely warranted at that moment.

**********

Jiang Cheng always felt a little wary of Lan Academy at night. The beautiful architecture during the day took on a sinister turn in the dark, the angles of the floodlights and campus street lamps changing the welcoming walkways into paths that made you hurry along quickly, afraid of what could be hiding in the woods, or coming down from the mountains in the shadows of the night.

He should not be this freaked out carrying a tub full of construction paper chains and various others Valentine’s Day decor to an elementary school, but this part of the campus was the oldest part, and the shadows cast by the building’s spires were long.

“You going to stand there or are you going to come inside?”

Jiang Cheng had never been so happy to see Lan Jia in his life. The woman intimidated the hell out of him, had that same vague commanding authority as his mother, and was one of Lan Xichen’s closest family elders.

She was also a fencing expert and he had no doubt, if giving the inclination, she could knock him out cold with some fancy footwork and a foil.

“He give you the disappointed, ‘I believe the children are our future’ speech too?” Jia asked as the door banged shut behind them.

Jiang Cheng nodded. “And then the whole, ‘you know it’s not one of those holidays they can go home for’ bit too,” he said.

Lan Jia laughed. “I take it you’re going to be baking some cupcakes as well?”

There was an entire counter in their kitchen stuffed full with boxed cake mix and the kitchen table was already being assembled into a workstation. He’d be spending every night for the next week working on the damn batches, even though Lan Xichen had an entire culinary department at his disposal. He’d asked, and Jiang Cheng couldn’t say no, so this week he’d help decorate all the damn classrooms and then he’d start baking all the damn cupcakes and decorating them too, and having to ask his sister to ask his brother-in-law for his damn good strawberry cheese cream flavored frosting.

The things he did for the man he loved.

Lan Jia pointed down the hall. “He’s in the kindergarten classroom.”

“Of course he is,” Jiang Cheng said.

Lan Jia laughed as she gave him a little shove.

The kindergartners were the only true full day-students of Lan Academy. They didn’t accept any boarding students unless they were old enough for first grade, but that didn’t mean the youngest of Lan Academy’s student body were going to be left out of the festivities.

Jiang Cheng lingered at the doorway as he watched Xichen at work. He was almost done, the kindergarten classroom being one of the smallest on campus, but Jiang Cheng could see the perfectionist part of Xichen coming out, adjusting, and re-adjusting the various hanging hearts from the ceiling.

“If you get this picky about it, we’re never going to finish all the classrooms,” Jiang Cheng said.

Xichen turned to him with a wide smile. He nodded in agreement before folding up his stepladder. “I can always fix it tomorrow,” he said.

“It’s perfect,” Jiang Cheng said.

Xichen shrugged. “For now, I suppose.” He leaned down and kissed Jiang Cheng, sweet and quick. “Hello, my love.”

Jiang Cheng shifted the plastic tub in his arms and kissed Xichen again. “Hi,” he said. “So, where to?”

“Anna’s classroom for you,” Xichen said. “I’ll be in Scott’s room.”

Jiang Cheng laughed low. “Don’t trust yourself alone in a room with me?”

“In that sweater?” Xichen asked, referring to their shared favorite cream-colored sweater Jiang Cheng had grabbed after his post-workout shower. “Never,” he said.

“The headmaster of Lan Academy incapable of controlling himself? Whatever would your uncle say?”

“Shameless.”

Jiang Cheng turned around to find Lan Jingyi laughing at them from behind a veritable mountain of balloons, Ouyang Zizhen and Lan Sizhui with him.

“Your imitation is getting better,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Thanks,” Lan Jingyi said. He turned to Xichen. “We’ve got about a hundred balloons done already. Should we put them up now or keep them in groups?”

“In groups,” Xichen said. “There should be some weights in there to keep them tied down.”

Jingyj gave them a salute before the boys disappeared.

**********

Jiang Cheng was decorating his final classroom of the night, hanging the last paper chain and the last bit of streamers, when familiar arms wrapped around him tight and teeth nipped at the skin behind his ear.

“Really? That’s what does it for you now? The smell of construction paper and glue? The hamster wheel squeaking in the background? Pressing me up against the Percy Jackson bookshelf?” Jiang Cheng asked as he leaned into Xichen’s arms.

“Hmm, or it could just be you, wearing my sweater, smelling like my cologne,” Xichen said.

“My sweater first,” Jiang Cheng said.

Xichen laughed, his fingers sliding under the fabric to rest on Jiang Cheng’s stomach. He made a confused sound and leaned forward to inspect the paper chain above them. “Is that--is that glitter glue?”

Leave it to his brother to ruin the moment even when he wasn’t actually present.

“So, my brother dropped by today. He decided my glue sticks were too basic and then bought out, what I’m guessing, was CVS’ entire stock of glitter glue.”

“Festive,” Xichen said. His fingers slid further up Jiang Cheng’s stomach until they stopped and Xichen’s entire body froze.

Jiang Cheng grinned with the oh-so-familiar rush of rendering Lan Xichen stock still and speechless. It was nice to know he could still do that after nearly six years together.

“Is that?” Xichen’s voice stuttered as his long fingers encountered the first chain fringe hanging between Jiang Cheng’s nipple rings. “Is that?” he asked again.

“Is it?” Jiang Cheng asked. He gasped as Xichen’s fingers wrapped around the closest chain and tugged.

Xichen made an inhuman sound and Jiang Cheng grinned again.

“So, happy early Valentine’s Day,” he said. “I decided to stick with the chain theme.”

“Get in the car,” Xichen said. “Now. Please. I can’t--not--this is a classroom for fifth graders.”

“No one told you to get handsy on school property,” Jiang Cheng said, even though he damn well knew how Xichen got when he wore this sweater.

“Car. Now.” Xichen kissed him again, tugging Jiang Cheng’s bottom lip between his teeth and giving it a little nip. “Please,” he finished.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Jiang Cheng said.

[vivekhaldar]

How Unix Won

Unix has won in every conceivable way. And in true mythic style, it contains the seeds of its own eclipse. This is my subjective historical narrative of how that happened.

I'm using the name "Unix" to include the entire family of operating systems descended from it, or that have been heavily influenced by it. That includes Linux, SunOS, Solaris, BSD, Mac OS X, and many, many others.

Both major mobile OSs, Android and iOS, have Unix roots. Their billions of users dwarf those using clunky things like laptops and desktops, but even there, Windows is only the non-Unix viable OS. Almost everything running server-side in giant datacenters is Linux.

How did Unix win?

It was built by programmers, for programmers. If you read the early papers describing Unix, you will see how the key abstractions (hierarchical filesystems, permissions, processes, interactive shells, pipes) have lasted conceptually unsullied for decades. That could only have happened if it exerted such a force field over geek minds that they propagated it.

The majority of it was written not in assembly language, but in C, a higher-level language, hence making it portable. This enabled relatively easy ports to a wide variety of hardware.

A freak historical accident. AT&T Labs, where it was developed, was forbidden under its anti-trust settlement from commercializing products unrelated to its core telecom business. Hence, Unix was licensed very cheaply to universities, including UC Berkeley, which subsequently built one of the more influential branches of the Unix family tree—BSD. Apparently, AT&T classified Unix as industrial waste for tax purposes when licensing it!

Unix spread through academia, and those students spread it through corporations after they graduated. It's a strategy that has been used by every major tech company, only in this case it was organic.

And then came the Internet, and the whole universe of daemons, tools, protocols, and utilities that undergirded it was built natively on Unix. That wasn't a huge surprise because a lot of the people that built the Net were Unix natives. BSD open-sourced its TCP/IP stack, kicking off its wide adoption outside the military.

By the late 90s and early 2000s, Linux started taking over the server-side. It has become the ultimate virtuous cycle in open source. When picking a new kernel one is virtually forced to go with Linux because of the huge community and massive engineering that has gone into solidifying it. That's probably why Android picked Linux even though it was running on the other end of the hardware spectrum.

So how and why would we move past Unix?

Unix, which got standardized into the POSIX spec, has accreted a tremendous amount of complexity over the decades. The POSIX spec is 3000 pages long. Linux now has nearly 400 system calls. What started as a clean, pure, minimal and elegant set of system abstractions has become a complex beast.

The very idea of the OS providing general-purpose abstractions with wide applicability is being challenged. When Unix was created, IO was orders of magnitude slower than CPU. There were enough CPU cycles to burn to provide these high-level abstractions, like a complex hierarchical filesystem. Now IO can easily saturate CPU. At least on the server side, folks just want to get the fastest performance out of their hardware. That's leading to the rise of frameworks like SPDK and DPDK that bypass heavy OS abstractions for storage and networking in favor of applications directly accessing the raw hardware, and rolling whatever abstraction they do need on their own.

The entire ecosystem in which an OS exists is changing. Application-level experiences are hermetic and make the underlying OS more or less irrelevant. Just look at Android or iOS or ChromeOS. Programming to a virtual machine (like the Java VM) makes programmers much more invested in their PL/runtime than the OS.

The above two points raise an interesting question: what does a modern operating system want? Look, for example, at Fuchsia, which is going in the direction of a microkernel with capabilities, that pushes most drivers and OS services out to userspace. These are ideas that have been floating in academic OS research for decades, but could never gain real mainstream acceptance because of the high barrier to making a viable real-world OS. This is the effect Rob Pike was talking about in his "Systems Research is Irrelevant" talk. But the prior two trends are finally dislodging the iron grip of Unix, and OSs are becoming interesting again!

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Blight | 0

BTS

Jeon Jungkook/Reader [F]

Genre: Dragon/Shapeshifter AU, Magic AU, Enemies to Lovers

Words: 770+

Jungkook never asked to be bound to someone. You only ever wanted a familiar. Suppose it was destiny that made two unwanted scenarios thread into one whole disaster as Jungkook finds himself bound to the last person he wanted at the time of his Contract.

A school, or maybe it’s more of a social ladder.  The world is anything but normal. Students of all species and races and breeds gather here to hone their respective abilities.  From Angels to Demon.  To Sprites and Trolls and even Merfolk.  A school full of anything unordinary.  Just the place for a young witch in training.

Hearst Academy for the Wicked and Supernatural.

The school is devised of individual wings for each class.  Spirits, Shifters, Demons, Angels, Mythical Beasts and Spellcasters.  The school is also ranked by power and abilities to wield such powers.  When entering a new year, or enrolling, each student is required to go through a series of mandatory exams and tests: both academically and physically.  Showing their studious minds and how well they are able to control their powers in all sectors.  Once the tests are completed, they are then Ranked.  

Each Rank has its oven level in its respective wing.  For example, a Rank A Spirit student would be located on the top floor of the Spirit building. While a Rank E would be on the ground floor.  C and D Ranks are located on the same floors for the purpose of competition and the unwillingness to fall anything lower and to strive forward.  

The school itself is comprised of 7 different buildings for each wing with the main building located in the center. To the right were the Spirit, Shapeshifter and Spellcaster buildings.  To the left were the Angel, Mythical Beast and lastly Demon buildings. All connected through an open, outside corridor into and out of said buildings. The main building is used for a time to allow the students to intermingle.  It is also used for school-wide assemblies or specific ceremonies.  

The school is run by a board of retired professional masters of their own kind.  One of each member of the board is also the head of each wing.  The Headmaster is known only as the Spellmaster.  As the title implies, he’s at the top of his tier.  Oddly enough though, he’s never been seen by his student and only a select few of his board have claimed to see him - them - face to face.  Perhaps the mystery of what they are is what makes them so compelling.

Aside from focused ability classes, mandatory skill core classes are held every other day to give students an equal balance of supernatural and mundane.

Like every other school, even this one has its cliques, clubs, and sports where all the different species and races come together.  An odd concept: human sports play by nonhuman beings.  Although, the supernatural always gave the games a twist that humans couldn’t handle.  For example, taking a basketball during a match and hurling it full force into the face of an opposing team member wasn’t just entertaining and wince-inducing, but absolutely fair and a legal play.

Jocks, art freaks, plain freaks, beauty queens with their glamor kings, bookworms, straight laces, rule benders, frats, sorority, jacks of all trades, clique hoppers any and all you could think of: the school had it. All of the course watched by a student council.  

The president of the said council was a cold, unfair 3rd-year gargoyle boy who was as stone and unfair as his heart.  Unfair to most and makes sure to show his ‘favorites’ that they are indeed favored. Allowing unlawful exceptions to some and completely denying and even punishing others with no questions asked.  He was a ‘face of beauty’ of course and to add to the stack his family heritage was nothing to sneeze at.  A pretty boy with money was all he was.  Money fell from his fingertips like rain from a cloud.  Liem was his name.  Aliased: Elias.

A ritual is performed by the head of the Spellcasters’ each time a student; be it witch or warlock- reaches the potential to successfully retain stable magic and energy waves long enough to support another wave of energy.  Or in other words, are strong enough to be able to create a bond with another being that reaches beyond just mere acquaintance.  The ritual is completely decided by fate.  The Gods, or whatever high power there may or may not be, selectively choose a being - normally a Shifter or Spirit - as a life long partner.

Even when Familiars are cast and bound, it’s very rare they will change anything about their everyday lives.  No classes or Ranks shall change or be shifted. All will remain the same.  The only difference is that the duo will then be open for work.  Dealing with magic based public affairs and containing possibly harmful supernaturals not yet in control of their power is the most common of jobs.  The two are paid accordingly of course.

-TBC-

[edge-lorde]

hp update: time to see how well i remember the various subplots of the O.W.L’s event. i will go through each npc kid an describe their plots, more or less in order of when we see them. 

Jae: slippery to the end. i meet him in sandwich hell detention. pitts is shown once again to have no real power over the kids he supervises because jae is straight up organizing his contraband in order to sell it to other kids specifically so that they can cheat on the tests. he tells you most of this stuff will just get you caught cheating, which is worse than failing, but his clients dont need to know that. pretty good business practice, right? ;y. i agree with him.

penny comes in, looking to buy. again, this is the middle of jaes detention. mc has a overly moral reaction to penny trying to cheat. jae is like hey what the fuck. im trying to make a deal here. 

i dont remember him having another level devoted to him. unlike other kids who the mc tries to convince to study, the dont try this on jae. probably because jaes not scared he just doesnt give a fuck. i do remember seeing him with his head down after the charms exam. 

Penny: penny has good reason to be looking to cheat. SPOILERS her little sister has been trapped in a painting all year END SPOILERS. after she tries to buy from jae and you stop her, she decides not to cheat. i have little moral issue with cheating on a test like this and had less issue with it when i was in high school, but its true that cheating is much more likely to end in getting caught when the test proctors have magic, so still a wise choice. you study potions with her on her level. 

Andre: charlie calls you in for emergency friend services; andre has not studied at all for his exams because he says hes going to be a professional quidditch player and doesnt need to. you have a butterbeer with them in hogsmead and do a friendship level with him, trying to convince him that he shouldnt blow the tests off.

 in the cutscene beforehand, charlie is there sitting at the table with you. as soon as the level starts he disappears. we get a nice talk about non-academic magical careers. when the level ends i dont get any friendship exp with andre for some reason?? at the end andre concludes “well, shit.” 

Rowan: already detailed most of this one. we get a study party for all the kids in your house. rowan has studied herself to death. chiara knows whats up, takes you and rowan out to the forest to pet perma-wolf form werewolf pup borf for awhile. it helps. 

Tonks: we meet tonks at zonko’s joke shop. shes freaking out, upset, becuase shes worried shes not going to get good enough grades to be an auror. mc tries to cheer her with jokes and pranks. doesnt help. ben shows up and says something about helping other kids cope with pressure. 

her plot coincides with tulips, ends with some sneaking into filches office to simulate the skills an auror would need: sneaking and turning permanent records into rats. it works! she gets her mojo back. >:D

Tulip: T girls study sesh is in the library. tulip wants to prank people instead of study. tonks is like no actually... must take this seriously. tulip complys but gets a little upset. at age 15, she doesnt know what she wants to be when she grows up yet. all she knows is that she doesnt want a boring ministry job like her parents have. its very relatable. i ultimately choose to follow tulips lead and stay undecided at the end of the event. a good solidarity moment. 

Barnaby: barnabys plot was especially hard hitting for me because i could see it in motion. earlier, during the charms exam, i saw him just doing the confused animation while the other kids did their lumos’s. at the end of the test, you can see him putting his head down on his desk. jae does this too, but i didnt see him actually do it. 

later, during the transfig exam, i see the weasel on his desk suspiciously not changing shape. and there was the line earlier in the year where he said he didnt know what owls everyone was studying...

his level is in the woods. all 3 weird animal loving kids are hanging out in there, as they do; barnaby, liz, and charlie. barnaby is upset because hes worried he wont make good enough grades to become a magizoologist. i forget his exact words, but they seemed both really sad and really relateable, it was something like “im not very good at taking tests...” it was like admitting to your parents that you dont want to go to the party because you dont have any friends. barnaby knows hes the dumbest kid in the friend group and thats an awful feeling. 

but the mc, liz and charlie are like no, barnaby. your not dumb. you know this stuff. then prof kettleburn pops out of the mist like a one-armed guardian angel, says he lost his bowtruckle. we all help him look for it. barnaby uses his magizoological knowledge to find it, which gives him some confidence, then i tell him that the bowtruckles name is barnaby jr, which i picked for it in year 4 i think. that cheers him up as well. 

later, at the end of the event, one of his lines during an assembly is “if i get any T’s, ill just pretend they stand for Terrific! :D” 

and ill have to get back to the rest of this tomorrow... i wanted to go to bed early tonight. RIP me

EDIT: this post continued HERE

[neverwatchedonepiece]

517-519: "The Beginning of the New Chapter! The Straw Hats Reunited!", "An Explosive Situation! Luffy vs. Fake Luffy!" and "The Navy Has Set Out! The Straw Hats in Danger!"

The hat is back on!

I was excited about this. Was also oddly excited to click on the “Fishman Island” arc on CR, finally, after so long on Marineford.

These episodes were another curve ball for me. I thought the timeskip would go one of two ways: either they’d all meet straight away at Sabaody, group hug, then sail off into the New World, or we’d get a training montage for each Strawhat before the meeting.

Then I remembered you guys mentioned there would be a mini-arc and I cursed myself for being dense.

There’s not much plot to it. Some fake Strawhats are blighting the real ones’ good name and reputation. Unfortunately for them, 3D2Y is kicking off and the real Strawhats are gathering on Sabaody like the Avengers Assemble. Plus, pretending to be an infamous pirate crew isn’t a great idea when the Marines and World Government are after them.

I think I can see what’s coming. The fake Strawhats are light-hearted fodder, there only to show off their real counterparts’ training. And bring some lulz. No idea how it’ll unfold, though. That’s half the fun of watching One Piece, to be honest.

Luffy

It was good to see Oda hasn’t tinkered with Luffy’s design too much. (Saying that, I liked the Strong World outfit).  He still has those flip flops and cut offs, but now the red vest has sleeves and is open at the chest. (Gotta expose dat 8 pack and scars, right?) 

Of course, the iconic straw hat was picked up at the beginning of the episode. He was ready! Hancock and the Kuja pirates were there to see him off. Hancock packed Luffy half a year’s worth of supplies in a massive pack and gave him a handy-dandy Groucho Marx disguise in case any Marines spotted him prior to sailing out.

(Is it me, or does Luffy finally realise Hancock likes him? He kept saying, “I’m not getting married.” Though I did like the part when he refused to say goodbye because he wanted to see her again. That was nice of him. He acknowledges just how much Hancock helped him - and she helped A LOT. You could argue Luffy is as indebted to Hancock as to Rayleigh, Jimbei and Ivankov.)

Then, he set off! The next time we saw him, his massive backpack nudged Fake Luffy. There was an altercation. 

Of course, Luffy couldn’t retaliate. Drawing attention to himself and bringing the Marines down on his head before he reunited with his crew would be a Bad Idea.

He did get his own back. Just not in a way that would draw attention.

When Fake Luffy fired the gun, I cheered because Real Luffy gave us a teaser of his new power. Observational Haki! Armament Haki! Conqueror’s Haki! He deflected the bullet, dodged it, then floored the Fakers without lifting a finger.

Honestly, I cannot wait until Luffy’s next big fight. Sentomaru has returned with some Pacifistas. I hope the Strawhats get their rematch. Oooh, maybe the Pacifistas will be fodder now....

Nami and Usopp

Look at them.

Look at how beautiful Nami and Usopp are. 

It seems that over the course of two years, certain Strawhats have ended up with less clothes than they started with.

Nami has lost her t-shirt, but at least she has that bikini, right? Like Luffy, Usopp has buffed up and has a shirtless look to show off his gainz. They both have longer hair too - and it looks good on them.

Not sure about this comment from Usopp, "I don't belong to the weak trio with you and Chopper. I became a warrior who is not fazed by anything!" I guess (or I hope) it was acknowledged by all three that they were the weakest members of the crew, but it’s a bit much saying he’s graduated to a higher tier. Especially since he doesn’t know what Nami and Chopper have been doing. I like that Usopp has found some more confidence, but don’t find it at the expense of your friends.

Or, it’s classic Usopp overcompensating because he’s underconfident. Or he’s just joking. 

Nami must have quiet confidence in her fighting ability because she sat at that bar in Sabaody on her own and talked back to Fake Luffy who had just shot someone. She can control the weather and summon thunderclouds indoors. That is not someone you’d mess with.

Usopp has some new weapons in his arsenal too. He’s weaponised the plants from Bowin Island and I’ll bet he has much more than carnivorous plants up his sleeve. 

I love how casually they walked out of the bar, talking about their training, “Yeah, so I was studying new weather tech on a Sky Island...” while thunderclouds tore the bar apart in the background.

And Nami was driving a hard bargain for a discount. Never change, Nami. Never change...

Zoro and Sanji

Never realised how much I missed these guys and their bickering until I had a genuine laugh-out-loud moment (in 519, I think?)

I love Zoro’s new design. I think it’s my favourite out of the new outfits. The green robe looks great. It gives him more gravitas, as though he has now graduated from Sword Training School and is allowed to wear the academic gown. Not sure what kind of garment it is, but it’s definitely more traditional.

Sanji is still in a suit. I liked his previous style, so I’m kind of glad Oda didn’t mess with it too much. Sanji and suits are like Luffy and flip-flops, you know? He’s changed his shirt, has grown a goatee (which, of course Zoro noticed and roasted Sanji for it) and maybe his hair’s a bit longer?

Zoro arrived at Shakky’s bar first. This was a source of woe for poor Sanji, who arrived seventh after Franky, Nami, Usopp, Chopper and Brook. (Robin was eighth because she had to shake some CP goons off her tail.)

The fact that Zoro arrived first was nothing short of a miracle. I’m still not sure how he managed it. Maybe Perona dropped him off right at the door. When Sanji arrived, he was overcome with emotion at the sight of women to the point his enthusiasm freaked out a couple of innocent ladies. Then Sanji met Duval (I love how they’re friends now) checked out the kitchen and went food shopping.

On the way, he met Zoro.

Zoro wanted to go fishing. Rayleigh and Shakky shouldn’t have let him out of their sight. Instead of getting on a fishing boat, he boarded a pirate galleon and fell asleep. Sure enough, the ship set sail with him on it. “THAT IDIOT!” Sanji yelled. But it was okay. Of course Zoro would do something like that. At least the ship was headed for Fishman Island and they knew where Zoro would be.

I was annoyed for a half a second (rob Zoro of the big reunion? How dare you!) But then he showed off some of his new skills. Mihawk-esque skills. He sliced an entire pirate galleon in half. It was awesome. He still has great lines too. “I ruined your New World dream? No. It was your fault for allowing a plague on your ship.”

Has Zoro taken a Mihawk level in edginess? I think so.

Then they started arguing on the way back and I honestly laughed out loud at their shit-flinging contest. 

“Stay with me, or you’ll get lost!”

“Who’re you talking to, moustache eyebrow!”

“Shut up, lost moss!”

“How could number seven talk bossily to number one?”

“SHUT UP, I TRAINED MY LEGS IN HELL FOR TWO YEARS!”

“BRING IT ON, I’LL CUT YOU IN HALF!!”

They love to pretend they hate each other, don’t they?

Chopper

Aw, Chopper. He has definitely take an level in cuteness.  Chopper is a rare example of more clothes. He has acquired a cute, stripey shirt and red shorts. The hat is okay. It’s huge. Maybe to accommodate his massive brain (because he has absorbed the contents of all those medical books, right?) Must say I prefer his old hat. Mainly because Dr Hiluluk gave it to him and it’s a huge part of his identity. Parts of it are still there, but I guess it’s difficult to change Chopper a lot, so the hat is an obvious target.

Haven’t seen any of his new abilities yet, so Chopper hasn’t changed at all personality wise. He still loves cotton candy and, like Luffy, is still absolutely hopeless at seeing through lies and bad disguises. The part when Chopper was running after the Fake Strawhats and crying out at them to rescue Fake Robin was a bit daft. I mean Chopper did admit later on to Nami that the Fake Robin, “didn’t smell familiar.” But then, that’s the gag. It goes all the way back to Sogeking, so I’ll let it slide. :)

He really thought the Strawhats had changed so much, though. It was  interesting to see that he’d stick to his principles and go rescue Robin himself: a real marker of Chopper’s new determination and confidence in his own abilities!

After that stressful moment, it was nice to see how glad Nami and Usopp were to see him, hugging him and telling him how much softer his fur was, how much bigger he’d grown. And Chopper’s outrage once he realised there were impostors about: “WAIT, NOW I’M MAD!”

Even though he’s stronger, kind, innocent Chopper hasn’t changed that much.

Robin and Franky

Again, how good do these two look? Robin is the most drastic change out of all the Strawhats. Could you believe I actually didn’t recognise her at first? (Only the eyes and the voice acting finally gave it away.) The blunt bangs/fringe/whatever you call them were iconic to her look, so it’s a definite departure. She looks great, though. Similar to Boa Hancock.

I’m 100% being Franky’s new look. The colour scheme is the same (red/blue) and he has his loud fashion sense, but the chunky cybernetic enhancements, the sharp shades and the buzz really add an intimidating edge to Franky that he was missing pre-timeskip. And apparently, the Sunny has some new weapons as well as a Full Underwater Coating courtesy of Rayleigh. Can’t wait to see what nightmarish destroyers of ships Franky has constructed! >:D

Franky injected some tension into the narrative, which was cool, even though I am 99% certain it will turn out fine in the end. While losing the CP9 goons trailing her, Robin picked up a poster for Brook’s concert. Quite rightly, she WTF’d over it and asked Franky if he knew what was going on.

“Brook's quite the star now. From the lonely shadows to a place where everyone cheers for him. He might not come back to pirating again.”

Surely Brook would not be so ungrateful to abandon the friends who lifted him out of loneliness into the spotlight again?

Nah. Brook’s not like that. I’d bet money it.

Soul King?

Brook has now graduated from garage band Slash-wannabe to issuing health and well-being advice via the genre of soul and the medium of arena tours. 

He has acquired a manager. Before the gig, Brook had something to tell him and I’ll bet it was about quitting. 

I’m still wondering how Brook got away with becoming so famous. Wasn’t he identified at Sabaody when Kizaru kicked their asses two years ago? Hasn’t his bounty poster been updated since? Did not a single Marine think, “Hey, there was a talking skeleton in the Strawhats’ company at Sabaody. Here is another one on TV. Coincidence?”

Love that we got to hear most of the song, though. Brook hasn’t changed that much, either. He still loves those skeleton puns.

(I am very behind on replies, btw. I know. I will reply to every single one tomorrow. ^_^)

“Move, bitch. Get out the way. Get out the way, bitch. Get out the way!” - Ludacris

[sorrythatwasmean]

About Bruce Banner

Mixed MCU/Comics Earth 616 canon/Own Headcanons

Name: Robert Bruce Banner Parents: Brian and Rebecca Banner

Birthplace: Dayton, Ohio

Early Days

His physically and emotionally abusive, alcoholic father Brian was convinced he’d passed a monster gene to Bruce and that Brian’s own experiments with radiation before Bruce was conceived had mutated his own son.It’s unclear if Brian thought the gene had skipped himself or if he, too, had it. Regardless, Brian had never wanted children.

For Bruce’s 4th Christmas, Rebecca gifted him a complex construction toy kit. He built it without the instructions. Brian perceived Bruce’s intelligence as unnatural and further proof his son was a monster.

Rebecca never understood Brian’s actions towards their son.Rebecca set into motion plans to leave Brian for good.Bruce would later say his mother saved him more times he could count and one of his deepest regrets is he wasn’t able to save her when it mattered the most.

Brian Banner killed his wife Rebecca when she and Bruce acted on their plan to leave him. He killed her in front of their son.

Brian made Bruce lie at his trial. He threatened him by saying he might go to jail, but that Bruce would burn in hell for betraying his own father. Later, he drunkenly boasted about threatening Bruce and was locked in a psychiatric institution for the crime anyway.

Bruce was raised by his paternal Aunt Susan. She noticed he had an imaginary friend when he was younger, but chalked it up to childish imagination. Bruce was normally a reserved and seemingly calm child. Too reserved sometimes.Brian’s venom and toxic words still burned, but Bruce rarely expressed his anger.

His Aunt Susan described it as white-hot and brief—Bruce would be transformed screaming unintelligible things, scribbling hard enough to rip pages in his notebook,but once it flashed, it faded. He’d apologize. And he never hurt anyone. She kept her distance in those moments. She understood them all too well.

She felt it too when she remembered her own father, her brother, and even herself. But she’d tell Bruce, “You’re you, not them. You’re my nephew. And Rebecca’s son, too. We are more than these moments.”

Bruce would find some comfort in this. And he tried to immerse himself in better things: science, creation, what the world was made of and it’s miracles.

The combination of rarely effusive with his emotions, studious, and genius-level intellect didn’t make it easy for him to make many friends, but he valued the ones he had.

It wasn’t until he was older that he realized something was...off. Once in high school, he entered a room and his friends greeted him with congratulatory praise for defending Carl and decking a bully. He thought they were joking. That didn’t sound like him. There had been plenty of witnesses, but Bruce didn’t remember a single thing about it.

The bully stopped bothering them when Bruce was around. And another time, Bruce found himself washing blood from his knuckles in the bathroom. He didn’t protest when he was called to the principal’s office. His friends still defended him saying Charles Rolfe had been out of line and Carl didn’t stand a chance and they asked why Bruce didn’t tell his Aunt or their teachers he’d stopped the fight and hadn’t started it.

But, how would he know if he’d done the right thing if he hadn’t done it? He didn’t remember doing it. How was he suppose to explain that?

And it was worrying his Aunt. That’s what he hated the most. She’d never asked for this. He’d tried to be good. They’d had a plan. Suspension for fighting wasn’t part of it. What about scholarships? What about college? The kind he wanted to attend weren’t cheap.

But Rolfe was a menace and Carl wound up in a hospital bed with a broken arm and black eye. And Bruce tried to promise his Aunt he wouldn’t do anything. But one morning he woke up in the high school basement, wire strippers in his pocket and he’s running to Rolfe’s homeroom desk and he can’t explain WHY he’s defusing a freaking bomb. He knows why he knows how to defuse it but he doesn’t remember freaking building it. But no one believes him.

No one but his Aunt.

Thaddeus Ross takes an interest in his education because of the bomb and convinces the police to drop the charges if Susan and Bruce agree to leave town. It’s the only silver lining.

Because his Aunt agrees they need to figure out what’s going on. There’s a name for what he has and back then it was called Multiple Personality Disorder. Nowadays, it’s called Dissociative Identity Disorder or DID. Not that it matters what it’s called.

“One of dad’s many gifts,”Bruce would sigh much, much later.

He learns to manage it. And it’s not something he leads with in conversations with new people.

He excels at academics, but his personal life falls to the wayside. Science is safer than socializing. One of his girlfriends, Angela, was concerned about how he wasn’t physically affectionate and didn’t touch her. It was hard to explain so it didn’t last long.

He can explain gamma radiation and it’s uses to help heal, but no one is interested in funding that. He has medical knowledge, but the military pays so Bruce feels he has to sell his soul.

Brian is “reformed” 15 years after Rebecca’s death and good man that he is Bruce still tried to let him stay with him.

Brian isn’t and attacks Bruce while he’s visiting his mother’s grave. And honestly, I think Rebecca Banner rose out of her grave for revenge and to protect Bruce because in the fight HOW does Brian die? His head hits her headstone. Bruce represses the memory.

He knows Brian is out of his life. And part of him knows what happened. He’ll find out later.

He unexpectedly manages something real with—of all people—Thaddeus Ross’ daughter, Elizabeth. She’s brilliant and beautiful and brave.

And Bruce successfully patents a number of devices and ideas, publishes and researches enough to wrack up a few Ph.Ds.

But The Other Guy takes all that away from him. It’s hard enough to love someone from a far, it’s harder still to love someone when a future together is impossible.

Origin of The Other Guy

I diverge from MCU here: Ross in The Incredible Hulk says Bruce didn’t know the real reason he was interested in Bruce’s work. I don’t buy that. Of course, Bruce would know Ross and the US military was interested in weaponizing his work. In the comics, Bruce works on the project reluctantly because he couldn’t get funding for the use of gamma rays for medical purposes.

Bruce saves Rick Jones from a gamma explosion. Igor Starsky was the Russian spy who pretended to be merely Bruce’s collegue and failed to stop the experiment when Bruce asked.

Experimenting on himself fits in better with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde parallel, but I don’t think hubris is as key to Bruce’s story. Is it part of it? Is Bruce capable of arrogance and bitterness and getting in over his head? Absolutely. I follow closer to comic book origins for Bruce’s earlier days so that element of Bruce and internal conflicts is already there.Bruce has enough instances of accidentally hurting people before and after Hulk.

And would Elizabeth go along with just watching Bruce experiment on himself? General Ross would, but he already has sketchy ethics.

If you say Bruce experimented on himself and that’s how he became the Hulk, he’ll assume the story got out of hand. But Bruce definitely experiments on himself later.

He uses the money he earns from his patents and inventions to sets up a fund for victims of Hulk’s rampages.

Avengers Assemble

Bruce is able to direct the Hulk for a while. Acknowledging his own anger and having an outlet placates Hulk for a while. But The Other Guy also has a chance to learn and feel and grow more.

And after Bruce crashes the quinjet, Sakaar is Hulk’s paradise. He isn’t feared. He can be loud and channel his violence and win praise and everyone seems to love him. Bruce? He’s tired and a break wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but then he couldn’t come back. The Other Guy wouldn’t let him.

And most of the time Bruce wishes The Other Guy wasn’t necessary, but he also knows that isn’t fair to Hulk. He can’t bring himself to hate him. He hates that he, Bruce Banner, is the one who has to regret and fear and loathe and...can’t be invincible. Hates that Hulk can be free and child-like and unburdened.

Bruce had wanted to be remembered for discoveries and creation and a meaningful life. Not destruction and turning into someone else.

[martinnecas]

So I'm a Junior in high school and every year we have an academic letter assembly. It's for the kids who graduated with either high honor roll or principal honor roll. Freshman year I had high honor roll (and a 3.5 EXACTLY). I wasn't so lucky sophomore year. I graduated with a 3.563 GPA but didn't have high honor roll or principal. Long story short all my friends did and were invited to attend and get their awards and I didn't and I feel so freaking stupid and worthless. (There's more)

”(Rant cont.) And all my friends are so freaking nice telling me “this is your year! You got this.” I really don’t though. I’m failing honors chemistry and I have a C- in math and I just can’t stand it. My best friend is (one of my great friends from this story) is insanely beautiful and is a straight A student and she’s trying to figure out a way to hit on this guy without being creepy and I requested to follow him and he accepted my request but didn’t follow me back but he followed my friends.. Anyway….. thank you for making it this far. I feel a little bit better. I just wish I could talk to my friends but I don’t want to take away their happiness because I’m miserable, ya know? Thanks again❤”

Let me tell you one major piece of extremely valuable information I have learned in my 22 years of living… high school is a fucking joke. You’re never going to see these people again unless they seriously matter. And those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind. Your grades won’t get you anywhere unless you’re planning on going to an extreme top of the line overpriced college. This isn’t an excuse to fail, just don’t over stress yourself about grades. Do the best you can and that’s all you can do. Also, these days, you don’t even need to go to college to work in a bank… A BANK.. where you can make like 50k a year!!!! Don’t worry about boys. If your friends are being shady drop them but if you’re over analyzing and over thinking things take a step back, breathe a little bit, and then continue. But trust me… you have sooooooo many long and stressful years a head of you, you won’t even remember high school. Keep your head up love I believe in you ❤️

[tinacentury]

17, 21, 27 :)

Ahh I’m having trouble keeping up with everyone’s fascinating answers to these. So, @idesofnovember when you come rushing in with Starbucks and questions in a week, I’ll be right behind you with additional thoughts and comments! (and also Starbucks) 

Thanks for the ask, and here we go…17) Post a line from a WIP that you’re working on.

Mamoru met her with silence, not meeting her gaze, the images he’d tried so hard to block out earlier coming back to him with a vengeance. Usagi scooted closer to him. “Mamo-chan,” she whispered gently. “I was there. I heard your screams. I saw the look on your face.” She placed her hand on his cheek, gently coaxing his gaze toward hers. “My heart broke for you.”I know it’s more than a line, but I’m gonna say it counts, since @kasienda and @queenrisa14 asked the same one. 

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

Urgh this is easily the hardest question on here. Really, I admire all of you, not just for your writing, but for the community of people you’ve assembled here. I do have to give two special shoutouts, though. While I hadn’t been involved with this fandom for YEARS, every now and then, I would go back and read old favorites of mine. A few months ago, I stumbled on Deja Vu, and, @floraone, I was floored (I feel like there’s a really bad pun there that I’ll spare everyone from). The imagery from that–the “Usagi-shaped burrito”, Mamoru “smelling like home and sleep and Mamoru” (this is from memory, so sorry if it’s not 100% accurate), young Mamoru on the swing. It was captivating, and I was so excited to see that it was a recent one, and that its author was still actively writing. It reminded me why I used to be into writing in the first place–because of the beauty of telling stories. The other shoutout is to @uglygreenjacket. Your story of starting writing fanfiction after years of being a reader and the amazing things you’ve been able to come up with in such a short time (btw, I freaking love The Space Between). Honestly, I NEVER thought I would be back into writing Sailor Moon fanfiction at this point in my life, but here we are, and a large part of it is due to being inspired by the the two of you for giving me the courage to try this again.

27. Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

So, funny story. In a very old thing that I once wrote I clearly did not have an outline, as there were some gaping plot holes or things that I originally thought were going somewhere that I chose to do nothing with. I was young, but it makes me cringe to this day. So, at least making a general outline has become very important to me. 

As I get back into things, I’ve been trying to come up with general story outlines/notes. I’ve been using Scrivener (which I swear by for academic work, but is quite useful for this as well), and have different folders for each of my ideas where I have separate notes pages describing general ideas/brainstorming, themes, settings, and an outline of events. From there, I try to write what comes to me when it does. Honestly it’s all a little new, as I technically wrote most of Familial Eyes quite a few years ago, found it on my laptop, polished it up, and posted it (partially because of my answer to the question above). I’m a little scared my next work won’t live up to that (I’m quite proud of it), so there’s a chance I’m overthinking/overdoing in the planning stage and dealing with a little bit of perfectionist paralysis. 

[ayellowbirds]

Keshet Rewatches All of Scooby-Doo, Pt. 15: "Spooky Space Kook"

("Scooby-Doo, Where Are You", Season 1 Episode 15)

AKA "The Mystery Machine Is Itself A Mystery of Interior vs. Exterior Dimensions"

I’m breaking from my standard format for these, because holy jinkies, you need to see and hear this villain’s laugh as video. Text and gifs alone will not suffice.

As seen above, the episode opens in the evening on a view of a fairly run-down rural area. An equally wrecked spaceship flies low over the landscape, orange light pulsing from within, and it comes to a stop and lands out of view. A figure walks onto the road, clad in a space suit that also pulses with an eerie “glowing sound” (if you watch enough cartoons, you know what the sound effects for “glowing, pulsing light” are like) that suggests radioactivity, the head within visible only as a skull. The camera closes on it, and the freak starts whooping and laughing as the interior of its helmet flashes the same red-orange as the spaceship.

It’s fantastic. While not the creepiest, it’s definitely the best villain design of the season, if not the best of all of Scooby-Doo: Where Are You. The ruined ghostly spaceship is a design that both makes no sense at all (why does it look tattered?) and fits perfectly.

Meanwhile, the gang are on the road in the Mystery Machine, and Shaggy offers to make sandwiches for anyone who wants. Only Scooby takes him up on it, and the view cuts to Shaggy assembling what Fred calls a “Jaw-Stretcher Special”.

Mind you, this is overtly the back of the Mystery Machine. Exactly how large is that van supposed to be? It reminds me of the camper van my dad used to own, only far more spacious. Definitely more roomy than its exterior would indicate, by far. We’ve seen interior shots before that showed bare walls, as well as the first episode’s collection of questionable and disturbing equipment. Is it like a TARDIS?

Shaggy adds bologna, meatloaf, and “a slug of double Dutch chocolate syrup”... just as the van cuts out. They’re out of gas, and miles from the nearest station!

...so, I’m going to say it here: Fred is a really bad driver. I don’t know why it falls to him to drive, except that he assumes a leadership role, but as we’ve seen, he’s a lousy navigator, and now it’s apparent he doesn’t keep an eye on the fuel indicator, either. Granted, it seems he was intended as the oldest of the gang, so it may be that he’s just the only one who as a license, at this point.

Oh my gods. Is that why they do what Fred says? Because he’s the only one who has a driver’s license? Did we finally figure out what he brings to the group, aside from traps that never work?

Going to the nearest house to see if they can buy some gas from the residents, they’re menaced by its owner, a surly chicken farmer with a long rifle and a conviction that the gang are actually reporters trying to bother him about “it”—the same spaceship from the establishing shot, and “something” that has been creeping around ever since “it” showed up.

Velma spots a trail of bizarre footprints glowing on the ground nearby, which the farmer confirms is the same kind of print he’s been seeing. The gang decide they’ve found a mystery, and seem to smooth things over, because the next scene is the Mystery Machine back on the road, Daphne having mentioned that it was “nice” that he gave them some gas. Fred agrees, because it means they can seek out the “ghost craft”... just before an eerie light passes over the van, and the gang catch sight of the alien ship setting down over the hill.

They wind up at the wrecked boundary fence of an abandoned army airfield, and follow more glowing tracks through the bent and busted gate.

They’ve only been walking for a few seconds when there’s a clattering, crashing sound, and Velma yelps, “I bet it’s the outer-space ghost,” suggesting i may need to reevaluate my ranking of the gang’s credulity vis-à-vis ghosts. Sure enough, the eerie cackling starts up again from off-screen, and the gang are firmly spooked as they follow the tracks to a work shed from which a strange mechanical noise emits. They find an electrical generator that has only just shut down... and then see the spaceship setting down by the opposite building!

Instead of investigating the craft, Fred suggests they split up and look around. The usual antics ensue, with Scooby and Shaggy’s squabbles over a bag of peanuts leading them right to the space-booted feet of the ghost, and a chase scene that leads through the distinctive setting of the airfield. It’s one of the few times the gang are investigating something other than a castle or mansion this season, and it really stands out, though one wonders why the many planes seen on the field were just left to rust.

Fred, Daphne, and Velma discover a machine shop with fresh grease and recently-used machines, and when Fred winds up hooked and hanging from the ceiling due to the ghost’s machinations, Velma protests Freddie’s assumption that she’d know how to even identify the controls for the hook.

Well, there’s characterization that won’t last. It seems as though, in this first season, Velma’s scientific expertise trends much more academic, including some chemistry but mostly being focused on research and analysis instead of the physical science work that would later be a big part of her interests.

Velma and Daphne meet up with Shaggy and Scooby to get help getting Fred down, and Fred and Velma quiz Shaggy on the details of “this thing you saw”. Apparently he was vague about the details of the ghost alien.

The phantom starts its whooping and giggling act again, and the chase continues as the gang flee in opposite directions, with Scooby and Shaggy winding up in the mess hall (”Never heard of a special place to make a mess...”), proving they have some kind of instinctive sixth sense for snacks that drives them towards the nearest kitchen without even intending to do so. Shaggy finds nothing, but Scooby manages to scarf down a small roast ham, an entire chicken on a bed of greens, and most of a jar of olives before Shaggy comes over to check on him. Shaggy realizes the remains of fresh food are a clue—"Like, how come a ghost from space keeps chicken and ham around?"—and they head out to find the others, running into the ghost again.

The girls and Fred, meanwhile, find a copy of yesterday’s Gazette, with glowing fingerprints left on the front page. “Why would a ghost from outer space be reading yesterday’s newspaper?”

This is why it’s important to maintain details in your haunting site. Big Bob understood that, he even went so far as to make monster-specific food labels.

As the chase continues and the gang reunite once more in the motor pool, they find a busted old jeep with four flat tires... that actually conceal another four wheels, found after Scooby notices that the exhaust pipe smells of gasoline.The jeep even starts remotely, driving out past a larger truck, where the “goony ghost” reveals itself behind the canopy covering the truck bed. But before the gang can react, four more ghosts appear!

Noticeably, the extra ghosts don’t move or even glow, they just stand there looking spooky. It’s enough, as Shaggy and Scooby flee up into a control tower and signal the rest of the gang over the still-functioning loudspeakers with the bugle call for noon mess, still apparently the only one they know. So, Scooby and Shaggy have no idea what a mess hall is, but they know the melody to summon you to one by heart?

Unfortunately, the ghost corners the boys in the tower, and they’re forced to jump out with a parachute. The scene fades to a police car: the farmer saw their car parked by the gate, and in spite of his seemingly ornery character, became worried for the gang and called the sheriff. 

They catch sight of the ghost, who flees into a building, which Fred calls “a bad mistake”—because the steel door the ghost shuts behind itself leads to a wind tunnel for testing aerodynamics.

Fred starts up the turbine, and the ghost grabs hold of a steel ladder as the resulting winds blow off its helmet, mask, and eventually the whole dang costume, revealing an ordinary human: the farmer’s next-door neighbor, Henry Bascombe.

Again, note that the culprit gets a whole name, but the innocent man is just “Mister Farmer”, and the cop is just “the Sheriff”. 

Shaggy reveals his discovery from the airfield control tower: a reel-to-reel projector to beam the image of the spaceship onto the night sky, and an audio player sped-up to sound high-pitched and eerie. The gang “wanna bet” that the extra ghosts were stuffed dummies and that the jeep was driven by remote control, but never actually check. It’s also left unclear what exactly Bascombe filmed to make the spaceship footage, or where his improbable mechanical skills originate.

The sheriff explains that Bascombe heard that the Air Force planning to re-open and expand the field—how does he know that Bascombe knew this?—and the farmer deduces that it was a ploy to scare his neighbors off so he could buy their land cheap and resell it to the Air Force for a profit.

Almost, but not quite.

When will our burden be eased? When will we finally hear “meddling kids”?

(like what i’m doing here? It’s not what pays the bills, so i’d really appreciate it if you could send me a bit at my paypal.me or via my ko-fi. Click here to see more entries in this series of posts, or here to go in chronological order)