#every single person in dead poets society

[littlemistersunshine]

MENTION OF SUICIDE ATTEMPTS/IDEATION

if you’re ever seriously considering hurting yourself, you’re not alone. call 988 to talk to someone, there is hope for you🫂💗

“todd and neil aren’t gay stop trying to make everything gay”

alright BUD. listen i get what you mean, sometimes when people start shipping every single goddamn pair of boys that are close together it can be a little annoying, and sometimes a little weird. but, in retrospect who cares bro. It’s literature and art, not real people. We’re meant to see what we see and roll with it, isn’t that the point of dead poets society? i’m not one to ship every two male characters that are close together, BUT IVE GOT MY REASONS FOR THESE TWO.

first of all, todd is being compared to walt fucking WHITMAN in the movie, a homosexual poet

AND THEN, neil plays in a play written by SHAKESPEARE HIMSELF, ANOTHER GAY WRITER.

Plus ;

“God I love this!” “what, me?”

“So you can just but out.” “no.” “whaddya mean no?” “no😏”

PLUS LOOK AT THIS

Not to mention, while Todd had only just met Neil compared to the other boys he was visibly way more distraught over his death than the others. The others cared obviously, but weren’t having a full on panic attack in the snow or barfing and screaming. They all were trying to comfort Todd, almost like they knew just as anybody watching film that Neil and Todd weren’t just buddies. It’s your opinion if they were in doomed love that they couldn’t understand themselves, or if they were simply platonic soulmate friends.

I know how it feels to be in Neil’s place, and same with Todd. But as you all already know how much I relate to Todd, id like to share how I relate to Neil. I too have suffered depression and suicidal ideation, luckily I was either stopped or saved (being forced to throw up) during any of my attempts, but i have still struggled nonetheless. My mother is homophobic and an overall controlling person, never letting me ever do what I want, be who I want to be. So i’ve always connected with Neil, knowing that I couldn’t ever be who I wanted until I moved out. I’ve snuck around and lied the same way Neil had in the movie, choosing to be and do what I want. Usually after i’d get caught, being punished or grounded I would usually start to feel hopeless and sometimes turn to self-destructive ways to cope because of how trapped I felt. I’ve always felt trapped. Many of my attempts were during a time when I had fell in love with another boy. At the time it felt like this boy had saved me, for he was there for me in a time when it felt like no one else was. But it would never work, for he was straight and my mom was a homophobe. Feeling hopeless I attempted, luckily ending up in an inpatient facility instead of like Neil. I’m forever grateful for such. It snowed the night I attempted as well.

There has been plenty of things i’ve wanted to do, felt like I needed to do to be myself but couldn’t because of my mom, but the only thing that has ever driven me to attempt suicide was being in love with another boy. That is why I think that Neil Perry is not straight, and maybe it’s just my experience, but that is how I view the character and story.

[glorious-destruction]

when taylor swift said “he was sunshine, I was midnight rain” she was talking about razumikhin and raskolnikov

[loveanddeepdick]

nerd!choso who is so unknown at school that people go, “who?” when he’s mentioned. you’re pretty sure that only five people knew who he even was.

nerd!choso who is most definitely the president of some club like chess or dead poets society. he saw you at the club fair and fell in love

he thinks he went to heaven when you approach his table at club rush. yuji, although not in chess, was helping choso recruit people since his poor brother was too shy to talk to anyone. you go up to your friend yuji, making small talk with him.

“i’ve never played chess, yuji”, you giggled

“my brother can teach you!”

you glanced over at choso, not even noticing him at first. he was.. pretty. not pretty as in a way your friends would giggle at you when they saw you in a new outfit, not pretty as in the comments you got under your instagram post, but he was a natural beauty.

yuji had to snap you out of it. of course he noticed though, the way you two looked at each other.

nerd!choso who teaches you how to play chess, not letting the two other members of the small club play with you.

nerd!choso who helps you study, helps you carry textbooks, and helps you with midterms and any exams you have.

nerd!choso who has a nosebleed when you give him a small peck on the cheek when he finally confesses to you after months of pining for you.

you two had been studying in his dorm, comfortable with each other as your head was leaning against his shoulder as you two relished in each other’s presence.

“i like you.”

“oh! i like you t—“

“no. i like you.”

you turn to him. a small smile creeping onto your face. you didn’t say anything, only pressing a short kiss on his cheek. he immediately freezes up, his hands turning clammy and sweaty.

“i—uh..”

then, a trickle of blood comes from his nose, dripping onto his cupid’s bow.

“oh my god, cho!”, you gasped as you jump up, running to grab a tissue from his nightstand where he also kept a picture of you two and a bottle of lotion

you leaned in, wiping his nose attentively. as you chide and nurse him while mumbling, choso can’t help but stare down to take a peep at your tank top. he could see the valley of your boobs and the top of your bra. he choked, letting out a startled gasp before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

he knocked out cold on the spot

nerd!choso who keeps a special picture of you in his wallet. he’ll be at his chess club meetings, at lectures, out with his family, and he keeps a hand on his wallet, knowing you’re in there.

the picture was a polaroid he took with your camera, your eyes were just out of frame but he could see a portion of your fucked out face, his cum dripping from your mouth and splattered on your cheeks. you were completely naked and sprawled out on his bed in his childhood home

it was almost funny how a hot goddess of a girl was naked, covered in his cum, and sprawled out, pussy on display on his old lego ninjago bedsheets.

nerd!choso who dedicates every single one of his orgasms to you. if you were with him, he’d find a way to cum inside you. in your mouth or your pussy, he’s find a way inside. of course, he’d also opt for cumming on your tits or on your face, he wasn’t greedy. but what he really wants, is to cum inside your cute little ass! he’s too shy to ask, of course, but the day would come eventually

if you weren’t here though, he’d pull up his personal secret album for you, filled photos and videos with shots of under your skirt, through the crack of your bedroom, from your window, when you just walking around with a tank top. he loved it all.

but his favorites were videos you’d allowed him to take while he was fucking you from the back or in missionary. he loved watching them on repeat, never getting bored of them. after a while, he gained the courage to show you as well.

you checked your phone to see a notification from your boyfriend and gasped when you opened it.

it was an image of the picture he kept of you beside his bed, covered in his semen. in the corner of the photo was his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock.

‘i miss you 🖤’

[dearsnow]

THE LAST TIME

- ten out of the countless times you have seen neil perry, and nine where you saw him alive. (neil perry x gn! implied to be shy reader, fluff to angst, canon-typical main character death, major spoilers for dps but i assume you’ve watched it before, i included my own poetry so i hope y’all like it, sad face emoji i teared up while writing this).

word count: 9,006

a/n - thank you so so much to my beta readers @sorencd and @chuudidit for reading this massive piece, i appreciate you endlessly <3 this was definitely a labor of love, one that i took a considerable amount of time to write and edit. i adore dead poets society and poetry in general (i have written 130+ poems and never plan on stopping) so i definitely needed to put my thoughts into words lol 😭 anyways, i hope you enjoy, because i definitely enjoyed writing this for you.

When Neil Perry first saw you, and god, did he see you, he knew nothing would ever be the same again.

You were simply sitting there under the old tree just outside the borders of Welton with a book under your nose and the soft rays of a flashlight filtering through your hair. You had one knee up, holding the book in a gentle balancing act as he stared. Charlie gave him a nudge, eyebrows raised and a tease on the tip of his tongue, but Neil couldn’t even move. He was completely and utterly dumbstruck. The moon was hanging above your head, full and bright, drowning you in a poetic haze. You flipped a page and he could feel his heart beating in his chest. He thought he had never seen anything so beautiful before, and he had no idea why.

After a long minute, he peeled his gaze away from the figure under the tree and followed the other dead poets to their second ever meeting. From the corner of his eye, he swore he saw you glance up at him when he passed, but no one else seemed to notice.

When Neil and the poets were walking back to Welton, you weren’t there- something Neil noticed instantly. Of course, being who he was, Todd noticed that Neil noticed, and Charlie noticed that Todd noticed, and before he knew it, Neil and his fixation were the new tortured topics of the evening. 

“Oh, love at first sight! The most beautiful kind.” Charlie teased, clasping his hands and spinning around. “How romantic.”

Neil shook his head, trying desperately to clear his suspicions. “It’s not like that. I swear, it’s not even a crush. I just thought it was weird.”

Cameron chimed in with a slightly hushed tone. At least he was aware of the fact that they were quickly approaching the earshot of every single person in Welton Academy. “I wonder where they came from. I mean, it couldn’t have been comfortable or safe to be out here at night. Especially alone.”

“Same. What do you think they were reading?” Neil responded, quick to try and put the teasing behind him. Despite his efforts, the teasing carried long into the night and the days following it. It seemed like nothing and no one would ever let him forget he ever saw you.

He would find out later that you were reading a poetry book.

He saw you for the second time on a trip to the main town. He recognized you instantly, from what little knowledge of you he had gained. You had the same hair, the same stature, the same book tucked under your arm as you peered into the musty old bookstore in the back corner. Just Todd was with him this time, and he definitely knew what was up.

Todd glanced at him, a warm expression on his face. Once again, Neil was entranced.

In the new glorious daylight, he noticed things he never could’ve before. The undertones of your hair, your skin, the way you seemed to glow even when you dipped into the shadows. He saw the pure beauty of you in a manner he had never seen anyone else in before. He took a step forward, pulled towards you somehow as his heart beat a mile a minute. The bookstore loomed over you, cracked and imperfect, yet casting the evening in a scene plucked out of a storybook. You turned, seeming to have seen him in the window’s reflection, and he flinched. He almost had a heart attack as his brain registered the color of your eyes and exactly how your mouth pulled up into a smile. Quickly turning away, he grabbed Todd’s sleeve and hightailed it out of there. Todd followed, as he always did. Neil was enamored, and Todd could tell.

“Do you think they saw me?” Neil gasped, pulling Todd into the square’s corner. He was panting lightly, red-cheeked, with a lopsided grin on his face. Todd had never seen him nervous, much less shy. In fact, he was the opposite- friendly, inclusive, and not the type to run away from a challenge. Something must have been different about you.

Todd raised his eyebrows. “Probably, Neil, they looked back.” He, too, saw your eyes, though he was mostly focused on the anxiety coursing through his veins rather than committing them to memory.

Neil’s gasping breaths were definitely louder than they needed to be. “Oh god, they definitely saw me. They probably think I’m a creep. Jesus, it’s definitely over.”

“What’s over?” Todd put a hand on his shoulder worriedly. “There was nothing there to begin with. They’re just a person, you’ll be fine.”

“Way to kill my dreams, Todd. Look, can you promise me that you won’t tell this to anyone else?” Neil asked, suddenly very serious. He glanced around like someone would waltz into the trash-filled and truthfully disgusting corner. The bathrooms were just around the bend, and he could smell it.

Intrigued, Todd nodded.

“I need you to say it. Promise me.” Neil whispered. His coat crinkled as he moved closer to Todd, the material dipping around his sweater. The fall air was the perfect background for whatever Neil was trying to get up to.

“I promise.”

Neil grinned boyishly and glanced around the corner again. “This is stupid, but I think I’m in love.” From the look in his eyes, Todd could definitely tell. His friend was suddenly more animated than he had been in a very long while, and he knew that he would do anything to keep him that way. His caution, however, took over.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. What if you never see them again?”

“And what if I do?” Neil breathed. “What if I see them tomorrow, or the next day, or a week from now? What if I see them every day of my life because I just went out and said something?”

Todd shook his head. “Just be careful, alright? There’s a very good chance that nothing will come of it.” Neil clasped Todd’s jacket, quirking his eyebrows.

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“Just no.”

The first time you saw Neil Perry, you didn’t even know you saw him. You were sitting under a tree, reading an Emily Dickinson book you bought in the town’s bookstore. It was a way to relax to you. A way to forget all of your troubles and just enjoy the wonders of the world. You don’t know why you picked that tree, or why you stayed so long you had to use the flashlight you so hastily packed, but life has its ways of pulling you towards something you didn’t know existed.

The scenery was absolutely beautiful, even at night. You wrapped your thick coat tightly around your shoulders. The fall leaves beneath you gave a crackle and the moon hung high above your head, slightly illuminating your page. Welton Academy loomed just outside of your line of sight. It was beautiful, too, but something about the cold stone walls made you shiver.

As time slipped away, you began to hear a hushed cacophony of boys around your age coming out of the school to the side of you. They had their hoods up, laughing and giggling like they were in some sort of secret club. You looked up, and one of them stopped dead in his tracks. You could see his breaths clouding in the night as the others urged him forward. Your eyes drifted back down to your book, as if you were embarrassed. The moment broke, and he was on his way.

You weren’t there for his return back to Welton.

The second time you saw him, you noticed him a lot more clearly. You were window shopping just outside of the bookstore. Even though the building was dusty and marred, it smelled like home. It smelled like stories and adventures and comfort. You were a frequent visitor to this place, and one of the owner’s best customers. 

He often set up his new imports in the big, yellow-tinted window in front of you. As you gazed in, you noticed a face appear in the space next to you. You turned around partially, meeting his dark brown eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at him.

It was an electric moment. His lips were slightly parted, and the gray clouds above him were engorged with unshed tears. You gaped at him, dumbfounded, as milliseconds ticked away like hours.

Before you knew it, he had sped away with his friend in tow. Huh, you hadn’t even noticed he had a friend. All you could think about was the fact that he looked familiar, and the fact that he was the most handsome boy you had ever had the pleasure of locking eyes with.

His stature reminded you of the boy by the tree, the boy from Welton Academy. There was just something about him that screamed “you saw him once in a dream”.

Somehow, you thought one simple thought: you were in love with someone you did not know.

When Neil saw you for the third time, and the third time you saw him, he worked up the courage to talk to you.

Mr. Keating was instructing the boys outside yet again. They were in the courtyard, taking inspiration from the world around them. From leaves, patches of mud, anything that struck their fancy. 

You were taking a walk by campus. Once again, you didn’t know why; you just were. The boys were not a quiet group, and you could hear their shouts very clearly. You strained your ears, hoping to hear one voice in particular. Of course, you didn’t know what his voice sounded like, but you were listening anyway. If you were right, and he was a boy from Welton, maybe you might be able to catch a word or two.

That’s when Neil spotted the person walking loops around the front of campus. Maybe, for the first time, you could be his inspiration.

He looked over his shoulder, quickly trying to assess whether he could slip away unnoticed or not. No one seemed to be looking at him. He left his group behind and jogged up next to you.

You saw him coming. Even from a distance, you knew it was him. Your heart began to pound in your ears, loud and fast and just a little bit lovesick. You were right.

“Hey!” He exclaimed. You took a small step back. Your nerves were on their highest setting and your mind was reeling. What did he think of you, you wondered. More importantly, who was he?

As he approached, you put on your best nervous smile. “Hi.”

“My name’s Neil.” He said, reaching out a hand for you to shake. You complied quickly, saying your own name in turn. His palms were slightly damp, but you couldn’t blame him. Yours were probably worse.

The moment your hand held his, fitting perfectly under his fingers, he knew you were made for him. “I saw you in town the other day. Do you like books?” 

Your voice was hesitant, unsure, and Neil wished he could reach out and smooth the wrinkles in the sound like an old coat. “Yeah.”

“What were you reading?” Neil asked. He tried to stamp down his own nerves, but something about you made his breaths flutter in and out like butterfly wings. It was a feeling he was completely and entirely new to.

You shifted the bag on your shoulder to your hands, reaching in to pull out the book. “Oh, Poems by Emily Dickinson. It’s not the traditional type of book, but I love poetry.” Your cheeks began to warm. You knew nothing about this boy. What if he thought poetry was stupid, just a lesson in his English class and nothing else? How could anyone know how much those words meant to you?

Neil beamed, big and wide and lovesick. You truly were perfect for him, he thought. Poetry. You certainly were poetic, with those gorgeous eyes and an equally beautiful mind. “I love poetry too.” He breathed.

Your tense smile turned genuine. “You do? That’s awesome.” A quiet flutter started to pick up in your heart.

“Yeah. You know what?” He grinned, “my friends and I have a sort of poetry club. The dead poets society- we do readings, original works, whatever the members are feeling at the moment.” He sucked in a silent breath, pausing just enough to let his reeling mind decide on what he wanted to say. “It’s at night in the old Indian cave.” You nodded along to his words, growing increasingly intrigued the further he carried on. This dead poets society began to excite you. It was all you ever wanted in life: a community of like-minded people sharing the verses that made your heart tick. “If you want, I mean, you should go to our next meeting. It’s tonight.” Neil offered. He could tell his words were cycling through your mind, finally catching up to his proposal.

You wanted to join the dead poets society so badly it made your heart ache. A little inkling, though, in the back of your head, sparked a pit in your stomach. “Would your friends be okay with me being there? I… I don’t exactly know them.”

Neil was head over heels. You were so wonderfully lively, in the way that a breeze touching his eyelashes with the tips of its fingers would be. You were exactly how he expected, and exactly who he needed.

He waved away your concern with the flip of a hand and a laugh. “Don’t worry about it. The others bring guests too, and gosh, I’m sure they’re going to love you! Especially Todd. I’m sure you two would get along real well.” 

“Then I’ll definitely be there.” You replied. The sparkle in your eye shot Neil at full force. You were excited, smiling, happy. He made you happy. He mentally patted himself on the back.

“Great!” Leaves rustled from behind Neil, and you could see a group of boys approaching in the near distance. “Shoot. I gotta go, but make sure to show up. I’ll be waiting for you.” He whispered, leaning in closer to you before turning around to walk towards the group. You felt cold air where he had once been, and you wished for a moment that he would come back. His friends, however, were hooting and hollering, and you thought you could hear a kissy noise or two. You shook your head, a shaky warmth creeping its way up your neck, before turning to walk away.

You were going to go to a secret meeting in a secret cave at a hauntingly secret hour, and you had never been quite so excited in your entire life.

The fourth time you saw each other was the dead poets society meeting. You were brimming with nerves beforehand, shaking fingers gathering your materials as you tried to prepare for waltzing into a place with people entirely unknown to you. The bag you were holding contained a couple of your favorite poetry books, your own poems scratched in the empty spaces on certain pages that really inspired you. You weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to read a poem out loud, especially your own work, but earlier in the evening, you resolved to “go with the flow” and do what the others were doing. You hoped you wouldn’t have to regret that decision later.

After putting everything together and making sure to turn off your light and close your door, you slipped out of your house into the black night.

The scenery on your walk was entirely too beautiful. You never noticed just how much the bark on trees formed swirling patterns, or how the stars seemed to twinkle on their own. The ground under your feet was littered with fallen leaves in fiery shades and clumps of moist dirt. You began to smile just a little bit, thinking of a poem you had written when autumn had first started. That is surely what you would say if the dead poets wanted you to speak.

Nothing felt greater than breathing in the crisp, cold air and swinging your arms as you stepped along the path less traveled on. 

When you finally reached the cave, heart significantly lighter, the sound of laughter floated up to your ears. It was bountiful and boyish and beautiful. You peered around the edge of the cave entrance, and Neil’s eye immediately caught on you.

“Come in, come in! We’re just about to begin.” He called. You stepped fully into the light and glanced around at your company.

They were giggling and shoving, gaping at you and Neil with a sort of uncertain certainty. Some were standing, some sitting, a couple moving around, and all of them male. You took a seat next to Neil, between him and the boy you saw with him in town. He gave you a meaningful nod and looked to Neil, who was opening an old, thick book. He was frightened to so much as speak in front of you, as silly as it might have seemed.

“Attention, dead poets. Today is another wonderful night.” He announced, voice deep and commanding and humorously theatrical. “I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately… I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life! To put to rout all that was not life… And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived…” His voice trailed off, and someone from the back of the cave echoed his last word. He closed the book with a snap, and the boys began to murmur excitedly.

Neil took a seat and turned to you, a glimmer of something sweet in his eye. When he looked at you, all he saw was magnificence. “Who wants to start?”

A boy jumped up. In his fist was a crumpled piece of paper, which he made a show of unfolding. “For those of you who don’t know,” He said, with a pointed glance at you, “my name is Nuwanda, and today, I actually made a poem.”

A couple boys yelled in support, and Neil gave you a nudge. “Charlie Dalton.” He whispered, making sure to not alert the others. You thanked him with a shy nod. Then, as “Nuwanda” was starting to begin his woefully homemade poem, Neil put his arm around your shoulders. 

His touch sent jitters through your entire body, lighting you up like a firework. It just felt so right, so natural, so breathtaking. It felt exactly like shaking his hand and feeling his eyes and seeing his breath hang in the air- like it was destined, written in the stars, utterly perfect. You leaned into his touch, feeling his warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and shoulder. “To live, to learn, to die,

my boys, 

to see, to love, to burn. 

To touch, to know, to harm, 

my dear,

to eat, to reap, to sow.” 

Charlie recited. For someone who seemingly took poetry lightly, he wasn’t particularly bad. He put more passion into his words than most other boys you knew. In fact, you’re sure he would be a great writer if he put more than an ounce of effort into it.

He took a bow as the room erupted into applause, Neil’s arm still wrapped around you. He could feel it too, the electricity. He wanted nothing more than to bottle that feeling and keep it forever.

Charlie sat, staring at you and Neil with a smirk on the corners of his lips. “Hey, why don’t we let our guest take a crack at it?”

The cave filled with a rumble of excitement from all of the poets. Neil’s brows were furrowed, but he gave an urge of support anyway. “If you want to, of course.”

You wanted to. Energy thrummed throughout your company, filling you with a sense of confidence you rarely had anywhere else. For once, you truly wanted to speak up. The air was crackling with a sense of anxious anticipation, and you could smell the love each boy held for each other. They knew, somehow, that the moment meant a lot to Neil, and they were willing to put aside any inhibitions to help him enjoy the night.

“I’ll go.” You uttered. Neil’s face lit up as his previous worries slunk away into the night.

You pulled out a book from your usual bag and opened it to the page you knew so well you could recite the poem it held without looking. And, of course, your own poem was scribbled in the margins. 

Everyone was attempting to peer over your shoulder, to take a glimpse of what made you a poet. Having attention on you was an odd feeling, like ants crawling along the back of your spine. You took a deep breath. “When you die,

the beetles will still sing.

The trout will still jump,

and the earth will still rumble.

When you die, the moon will still turn

and the stars will still burn.

When you die,

The lakes will still ripple

and the trees will still creak

and I will lower you into the ground

and I will cry so hard the world stops moving.”

As the last words left your lips, a profound silence enveloped the group. Then, all at once, it exploded.

“We’ve got a real poet in here!” Came Charlie’s teasing (yet not entirely unkind) voice. “Truly Keating material. What sparked your creative melancholy?”

You felt yourself glowing as you sat. If you were being honest, you never could have imagined that anyone would genuinely enjoy your work. That notion was entirely unfounded and untrue, considering they were a group of poets, but it persisted nonetheless. “I don’t know, really. Just the notion of losing a loved one, I suppose.”

When Neil saw you, in that moment, when he heard your voice, he couldn’t breathe. He knew so little about you, yet you pumped his pulse up to be as fast as a racehorse. He wanted, no, he needed to learn everything that made you you. He needed to know what you looked like when waking up in the morning, or how your fingers felt threading through his hair, or your deepest, most desperate passions. He needed to be so close to you he could feel your heartbeat through the fabric of your shirt. He was intrigued. 

When he first discovered acting, he felt the same exact way- a burning desire to learn, to know, to discover. If you let him, he would recite his lines all the way into your heart.

The meeting continued as the sky grew ever darker, complete with poems and rhymes and words spoken in deliberately lyrical tones. You fell into every verse and every story as easily as you would if they were written in a book. You began to learn every name in the room, and they quickly caught on to yours. It was a community, a group of people that began to feel like home. 

Of course, by the time they decided to end things, the stars were full and bright. The sun would surely peek its head out of the fog in a couple hours. You were smiling harder and more genuinely than you ever had before, with Neil by your side, and Todd on your other. As they all stood up to leave with boisterous whispers, Neil turned to you.

“Will you come tomorrow? And the next, and every day after that?” His question was so excited, so innocent, like he didn’t know that you would kill for the chance to be near him and everything he held dear.

You smiled. “Of course. I’ll be a dead poet for life.”

Your eighth encounter with Neil was not a lucky twist of fate. He got permission to leave school for some something or other that you never bothered to find out. Now, it was just you two and the big town square looming in front of you.

In truth, it wasn’t that big, but when you’re standing at the beginning of a new day with the boy that holds your heart, everything feels intense.

He took hold of the sleeve of your sweater, as he so often did, and you descended upon the shops.

“Come on, you’ve absolutely got to try the milkshakes at Tom’s Ice Cream Parlor! They’re just the best. Hurry, hurry!” He tugged you along, a bright smile on his face. God, how you loved him.

You had grown closer in the past five dead poets society meetings. Often, he would stay with you in the cave long after the meetings had ended. You would talk about whatever crossed your mind in the moment, and he would spin stories out of thin air. He didn’t ever seem to talk about real life things, though. His work at school, sure, but anything outside of that was uncharted territory. When you asked him about his family, he just clammed up.

You laughed as he weaved through the clumps of people with you in tow. “Slow down, Neil! You’re gonna get us killed.”

The sound of your voice, especially your laugh, was something Neil had come to relish. He would keep you talking all day if it meant he could hear that giddy ring in his ears every time he craved your presence. “You’ve just got to go faster. The line is horrific at this time of day.” 

“This place had better be good.”

“It is, believe me. It’ll be the best you’ve ever had.”

When you arrived, bodies hot and just a little uncomfortably sweaty, the sight of the ice cream parlor was a welcome one. He led you through the doors and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. You wished you could do it for him. The line was, unsurprisingly, quite long. You made idle chat, but his words fell on deaf ears as you stared at him.

“…he was real impressed when Charlie played his sax. Mr. Nolan, though, he definitely wasn’t-“ And, before you could think about it, before the screaming in your head could tell you no, you reached up and smoothed the cowlick that always seemed to mess up his part. When you pulled your hand away, he was beaming.

“Thanks.” He said, simply. You smiled back at him.

“No problem. So, what happened to Charlie afterwards?” You questioned. Neil gave you a look, one you had come to realize meant “I’ll tell you later”.

As you stood three people away from the front counter, Neil fumbled around in his pockets. “Shoot, I could’ve sworn I brought more money than this…” He muttered. He pulled out a dime and three pennies, all slightly covered in the fuzz from his jacket pocket. “I’m sorry. I don’t know, I must’ve spaced out- I’m usually so good about things like this.”

You took his arm with one hand and slipped the other in your pocket, rooting around for any spare change you had. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I have more than enough.”

You did not, in fact, have more than enough. You had a single quarter and a spare button. Pooled together, you could get exactly one milkshake and have his three pennies left over. Neil looked at you regretfully.

“You take it. I’ll get one another time.” He said, putting on a smile. “I’ve had too many sweet things today anyways.”

You would not accept this as an answer. Not here, not now. He deserved all the good things life had to offer, and you would be damned if he didn’t get them- starting with this milkshake. “It’s alright, you have it.”

Neil looked at you with furrowed eyebrows. “You should have it, really.” He would be damned if you didn’t get what he dragged you out here to experience. If he could see your face, smiling and sticky-lipped, after taking a sip from something he contributed to, he would be the happiest man on earth. 

The back-and-forth was getting nowhere and you both knew it. “Why don’t we just share it then? Ask for two straws?” You sighed. “It’s the best solution.”

He paused. It wasn’t ideal, and it wasn’t the life he wanted to give you (if this was any indicator), but it would work. Everything would work as long as you were there. “Okay. Yeah, let’s do that.”

There was another quick conversation about which flavor to choose, but you settled on one that you both liked equal amounts. You discovered that he had far different tastes than you milkshake-wise. If you were any less filtered, you would’ve told him his opinions were downright wrong.

You sat with him, smiling so hard you thought your face would break as he finally told you what happened to Charlie. Apparently, Nolan had reprimanded him as he so often had to do, but Charlie couldn’t stop smiling during the lecture. Eventually, Nolan just stopped mid-sentence and ushered the boy out the door. Apparently nothing and no one could ever crush Charlie’s spirit, not even the hardships of wooden rulers.

You leaned in to take a sip absentmindedly. As you reached your straw, you felt the tip of Neil’s nose brush against yours, and you realized you were so close to him you were almost kissing. You pulled back quickly, a hotness enveloping your cheeks.

“Sorry.” You uttered, trying not to look him in the eye. You were so mortified you almost killed yourself on the spot.

Neil, however, was overjoyed. He felt your breath on his chin and it was all he could think about. You, close to him, like you would’ve touched him if you hadn’t pulled away. He relished the feeling.

He shrugged, trying in vain to make it seem like he was just simply all right with it. “It wasn’t a problem,” He said, before noticing that the milkshake was running dangerously low. “Hey, why don’t you take the last sip?”

You cocked your head slightly. “Why?”

“Because I never want to be the one to end it.” He grinned. You shook your head, the corners of your lips rising up as he let out a little laugh. You adored his laugh.

“If you say so.”

That conversation stuck with you a long time after it happened.

It took four more dead poets meetings for Neil to ask you to go somewhere with him again. By the twelfth experience, though, you knew him like the back of your hand.

He loved acting. Loved it. He loved it so desperately that he was willing to face the wrath of his father to pursue the play he was casted in. Oh, and you learned about his father through whispers, mostly from Charlie. Neil, he told you, would never say a word about him. Tyrannical, inhospitable, red-hot like fire and ice-cold like ice. You knew of his mother, too, and her quiet indifference. Neil held a special place in his heart for Todd, the new boy at Welton. He loved puppies and poetry and soft scarves. Not the scratchy ones, as those irritated his neck. He wanted to be an actor in the future, but his father wanted him to be a doctor. He loved so many things, and yet could not have them; however, he definitely hated when people felt sorry for him.

So, you weren’t sorry. You felt his desires like a burning in your gut, stripped away piece by piece, but you were not sorry. You loved him.

You needed him to be fulfilled in every way possible, and you were not sorry. He was going through so many conflicting things, and you were not sorry. You were hopeful.

Life would turn around, you told him. He would see. In ten years, he would be on Broadway, waving at you and Todd and Charlie from the stage. He would be great, and you knew it.

“I’ve never skated like this before. Are you sure it’s safe?” You asked, standing at the edge of Welton’s lake. It was late in fall, with powdery snow dusting the edges of the ground, but the lake may have been in the process of freezing still. Neil took your gloved hands.

“Trust me, it’s good.”

He often asked you to trust him, and you always did. There was just something in his deep, dark eyes that whispered exactly how strong he was.

You took a tentative step onto the ice, nose already feeling the cold burn of pre-winter air. The ground under your feet was slick, but it held. Neil walked backwards, gently guiding you, and you followed.

You found a sort of rhythm in the movements, pushing off with your feet and letting them slide forward on the ice. Neil’s face was tinged with red as you skated on flat shoes, never letting go of your hands. You laughed, truly and honestly. The world spun around you in a blur, white and brown and beautiful. The air snuck through the gaps on your clothes, but you did not care. In that second, it was just you and Neil and the most beautiful day you had ever known.

His eyes softened when he looked at you. Even through the lack of words, he knew exactly what you were thinking. That crinkle by your eyes, the curve of your lips, your laugh. You were content, happy even, because he brought you here. When you reached the middle of the lake, leaning against him, trusting him, he felt a fluttering in his stomach. 

Throughout his days with you, he had come to discover the person behind the book, behind the shy smile. He could firmly say that he knew you, and he loved you even more for it.

He knew your favorite book, which jokes made you laugh so hard tears formed in your eyes, your favorite ice cream flavor. It wasn’t his, but it was completely and entirely you. There was nothing he adored more in the world than you.

You stared at him with a smile gracing your lips as you came to a stop. He reached his hand up to your face and brushed a small snowflake away from the corner of your mouth gently. His hands were soft.

He leaned in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his face. It was now or never, he thought. Carpe diem.

Neil pressed his lips to yours, and all of your feelings exploded from your connected flesh like dynamite.

He was warm, so warm. You kissed him fervently with your arms wrapped around his shoulders like you were dancing. He had finally done it, put to action the kind thoughts he had expressed, and you were glowing. There were stars in your tightly shut eyes, and you reveled in how they spun.

Neil’s mind was racing as you didn’t pull away. He didn’t know what he expected, but you pulling him closer was not his first thought. He most definitely didn’t mind.

When you finally broke the kiss, you were both panting feverishly and looking starved for more. Your combined breaths hung in front of your faces.

“We should do that again.” He whispered. You huffed a laugh, feeling every bit as blushy as he looked.

“Only if you’re okay with never stopping.”

It was a week and a half before Neil’s big play, and the twenty-fourth (maybe twenty-fifth, you had lost count) time you saw him. It was also your tenth official date.

“Date” may have been a loose term, as it was more practicing lines than talking, but the atmosphere was quiet and calm at the café you sat in. There were grainy pictures of favorite customers on the wall and the chairs were just the right amount of wobbly. It felt like a place where you could relax without abandon. Neil’s hand was on top of yours and he was staring deep into your eyes as he spoke line after line, trying to steel his nerves and push past the stress of his approaching deadline.

“If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended, that you have but slumber’d here while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream, gentles, do not reprehend: if you pardon, we will mend: and, as I am an honest Puck, if we have unearned luck…” He hesitated for a moment, eyes unfocused. You squeezed his hand in support and he gave you a small smile. Clearing his throat, he continued. “…now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue, we will make amends ere long; else the Puck a liar call; so, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.” 

You gave a quiet cheer and clasped your hands together. “I think that was your best runthrough yet! I’m so proud of you.”

His eyes lit up as he gazed at you bashfully. “You think?”

“Absolutely. You’re good, you’re really good. You could probably perform tomorrow if you wanted to.” He smiled and ran his fingers over his fleece sleeves as you spoke. If you were in the audience, he was sure he would be able to do anything. “In fact, you could perform any time you wanted to. You’re just that amazing.”

You were so impressed by the sheer amount of talent and emotion he had that you just couldn’t help but smother him in compliments. Every single one was true.

Neil tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, blushing like a madman. Every time you said something kind about him, his heart leapt for joy. “What about you? What have you been working on?” He posed. He had heard your poetry before, of course, but you always seemed to be creating something new.

You pulled out a book from the bag sitting next to you and flipped around. There was one specific poem you wanted him to hear. One you had written about him.

When you found it, you turned the book sideways so you both could see and pointed at it. “This one.” Neil tilted his head, opening his mouth to read it aloud. “I think, 

if I was blind,

I would still know your face.

The curve of your nose would call to me

and your eyelids would flutter under my touch.

There is no one else, no one at all

who could make the pads of my fingers

see the entire world.”

He gazed up at you with a starstruck expression. “Is this about anyone in particular?” Neil leaned forward and dipped his head down to rest on his propped-up hand. He had a grin on his face. He absolutely knew who it was about.

“I wrote that one for Meeks. He’s just so cute, don’t you think?” You teased. Neil’s mouth dropped open as his expression turned to comical shock. 

“I’m wounded, my love! How dare you.” He shouted, throwing his arms up. You started laughing as he continued his theatrical expressions, much to the dismay of the café workers.

“Be careful, we might get thrown out!”

“I’ll throw you out myself if you don’t stop laughing at my demise.” He furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched his nose as you giggled from your seat. “I’m so lucky to have you.” He murmured, suddenly as soft as a spring rain. You ran your fingers over his hand underneath the table, finding every groove like it was your own.

“And I’m lucky to have you. I love you, you know.” 

Neil smiled gently. “I love you too. So much.”

You sat in that café for a few hours more, until the workers had to politely remind you of their closing hours. You laughed and talked and felt the sheer joy of being with the boy you had begun to consider your soulmate. He was a star, shining his light and illuminating you with his rays. Too often, however, the brightest lights fade within the snap of a finger.

“I hope that when I die,” Neil wrote, right before your thirty-first meeting,

“God will send me back to Earth.

He will say,

‘Live again. Run again,

hope again,

plunge your body into ice-cold water again. 

Hate again, 

and cry again,

run your fingers through the grass again.

Kiss them again, 

press your palms to their faces again,

and lose them again.

Let yourself feel again,

and never forget

that life is what matters, 

not death.’

And I will say,

‘I promise

to do everything I have ever told myself I could not do

again and again and again.’”

He closed his journal with a thump and tucked it into his drawer calmly. That was something he would rather not share with anyone, not even you. 

The day was cold and drizzly, but he stood up with a kind of manic smile. He walked out of the doors of Welton and into your awaiting arms.

You both sat down on a park bench under the cover of a tree. Your seats were slightly wet and very cold, but it didn’t matter all that much. You were just glad to be there with him, with Neil. He was the love of your life, and any time with him was well-spent.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly. He was the same as he always was, you thought. But his eyes were welling up with tears and you just felt the need to ask, like some unearthly force was telling you that you needed to.

He leaned back, putting his arm around the back of the bench with a sigh. “I’m trapped.” He was smiling, but there was such an utter lack of humor behind it that it made you shiver. You shifted closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder as a silent sign of comfort. By this point, knew everything there was to know about Neil Perry- even the parts he tried to keep hidden.

“How so?”

“I don’t even know, I just… I want to be an actor. That is what I want to do for the rest of my life. But I can’t, and I’m trapped, and no one can help me, no matter how much they try.” His voice was sullen, but he was still smiling. Curse him for trying to make you feel better even then.

You placed a kiss on the back of his hand and threaded your fingers through his. Your heart ached for him. You knew there was nothing you could do about it, though, and that’s what made it even harder. Holding his hand, telling him it’ll all work out, everything ultimately did nothing for his situation, and you cursed the being that forced him into this position. If you could scream into the night, into the big, black sky to execrate the universe, you would. You did, in the future. You regretted not doing it sooner.

“I’m sorry.” You started, squeezing his hand. “ Just keep going, alright? I promise you, in the future, none of this will matter at all. You just have to stick with it. The world will find a way of figuring it out.”

His face formed a more genuine smile as he laid his head on top of yours. “Yeah. I guess it will.”

The last time Neil Perry saw you was the night he had been anticipating, dreaming about, and dreading: the night of his play. He was prepared. He knew every line and cue by heart, and yet he was still nervous. He was so nervous he could hardly think. 

He stood behind the curtains listening to the chatter of the audience. The rest of the cast members and some of the technicians were scrambling to put everything in place, but he just stared at the dark walls of fabric separating him from his new life. That was it. He was going to put on the best performance of his goddamn life.

The lights dimmed, and he stepped away to take his place.

When it was finally time for him to make his entrance, Neil did it with flourish. “How now, spirit! whither wander you?” He spoke. Cheers came from the audience, whoops and hollers from the dead poets. He could hardly keep himself from smiling.

Then, he saw you. You were grinning wide and large from your seat, giving him that quiet encouragement he had always loved. You whispered his name, and Neil could hear it in his heart.

He was having fun. So much fun. With every line he spoke, with every movement he made, Neil was sinking deeper and deeper into the play and his love for acting. He didn’t remember the last time he had ever felt that alive. 

But with every sinking, there comes a point where one drowns.

His father was there. When had he come? Neil hadn’t seen him before. God. He was burning a hole in the back of his head with his piercing gaze, and it took everything in Neil not to turn and run. That was it, he thought. He was done. But gods be good, he was going to finish his play. He would not let his father ruin this for him.

By the time he was speaking his last lines, the ones he had practiced with you, he barely remembered his father was part of the audience. The curtains closed, and the audience exploded into cheers. He could hear your voice, he swore he could- he was the happiest man on Earth. He had put on the performance of his lifetime, and he couldn’t be more proud. Until, of course, he was dragged out the door by his father.

He was back home before he had even registered his father’s anger. All he could feel was emptiness as the gnawing hole in his stomach expanded to encompass his entire being.

“We're trying very hard to understand why it is that you insist on defying us. Whatever the reason, we're not gonna let you ruin your life. Tomorrow I'm withdrawing you from Welton and enrolling you in Braden Military School. You're going to Harvard and you're gonna be a doctor.” His father stated, eyes sharp. Neil let out a noise of protest.

“But that's ten more years. Father, that's a lifetime! I won’t be able to see any of them again, not one person I knew before. You can’t do this to me, you just can’t.” Tears formed in Neil’s eyes, and as he looked at his mother, she was feeling the same way. And yet she said nothing. He could feel himself becoming increasingly more desperate. 

His father scoffed. “Oh, stop it. Don't be so dramatic. You make it sound like a prison term. You don't understand, Neil. You have opportunities that I never even dreamt of and I am not going to let you waste them.”

Neil rose to his feet, suddenly angry. He needed to fight for this, for himself. He couldn’t just let one man take away everything he had ever loved. If he couldn’t see you, his friends, if he couldn’t act, there was no purpose in his life. “I've got to tell you what I feel.”

Neil’s mother reached for him. “We’ve been so worried about-“ 

“What? What? Tell me what you feel. What is it? Is it more of this, this acting business? Because you can forget that. What?” And just like that, it was gone. Neil sat back down, staring blankly at his lap. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do anything because he was just a stupid boy who wouldn’t listen. His father scoffed once again before leaving the room.

His mother, ever the soft one, paused.

“I was good. I was really good.” He whispered. She sighed, urging him to his feet. 

“Go on, get some sleep.”

Neil nodded, still in a trance, before trudging to his room. That was it. He was done. He would never see you again, no matter what, and it hurt him so badly he didn’t know what else to do. He ran his fingers over his things lightly before removing his shirt. That was it. He grasped his crown of twigs and placed it on his head, staring out through his open window. The cool air kissed his body sweetly, like your lips on a rainy day. He took a deep breath.

It was time for his last act, his curtain call, his final carpe diem. There was no warning, and yet there did not need to be one. That night, that cold, bitter night, he knew what he needed to do. 

The last time you saw Neil Perry, he didn’t see you. He couldn’t see you. It was December 18th, and you had been asked to read a poem at his funeral. 

God, the word “funeral” hit you like a train. Neil was dead. His sweet demeanor, his gentle words, his soft hair, they were all going to be covered in dirt within the next few hours. You couldn’t stand it. The world needed so much more of him, but terribly, horribly, the world did not deserve it. No one deserved him.

It was odd, you thought, how the sound of one gunshot could replay over and over again in your mind without you ever having heard it at all. The boom, the thud, the scream. It was all so clear in your mind.

As the priest spoke, you felt an emptiness pool in your guts. He was really gone. Your Neil, your poor Neil. You sat between Charlie and Todd, all three of your faces streaked with tears. You could feel more welling up in your eyes, and you let them free without a care. Neil was dead, and nothing else in the world mattered.

In a way, you couldn’t believe it. He was just here, warm and happy and yours. When you got that phone call, you almost joined him. Nothing was worth it anymore, nothing at all. The eulogies, the sobs, they faded into the background as you stared down at the ground.

Before you knew what was happening, you were standing at a podium with a piece of paper clutched between your shaking fingers. Neil’s mom looked up at you in silent support.

You took a breath, so much like the breaths you always took before reading a poem and yet so different. Neil could not hear this one.

“When you died,

the beetles still sang.

The trout still jumped,

and the earth still rumbled.

When you died, the moon still turned

and the stars still burned.

When you died,” Your voice cracked. Looking out into the audience, at people you didn’t know and people you knew so well you could identify them by a strand of their hair, it was too much. Hot tears slipped their way down your face as the pit in your stomach grew ever-wider. 

“The lakes still rippled 

and the trees still creaked

and I lowered you into the ground

and I cried so hard the world stopped moving.” 

There was a murmur throughout the audience, choked sobs and utters of agreement. “For Neil, who lived as he died and died as he lived.” You rasped.

You were quickly ushered away from the podium and back into your seat.

Neil was one in a million. There was no one else in the history of ever that could make you feel so amazing. Like you were a real person, like you mattered. He made everyone feel that way, but something in him burned for you in a way that you believed was unique. And, of course, you burned for him the same. 

The rest of the service went by in a blur. Everyone around you began to get up, and you knew it was time. As you sat there, still as a rock, when everyone went to say their final farewells, you were extinguished. 

You felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. When you looked up from your tear-soaked lap, Todd was there, and he clasped your hand. “Let’s go.” He whispered. “Let’s say goodbye.”

You pulled a page from the book by your feet and shoved it into your pocket. It was for him, it always was and it always had been.

“In some other universe, I found you again.

Maybe in this one we held hands, gently and honestly,

or leaned against each other’s shoulders on the train,

or sobbed against each other’s shirts when we crashed and burned,

because anything with you

means flying too close to the sun.” It read. 

As you stood in front of his casket, you could hardly bear to focus on his pale face.

He was cold, so cold. The embalmer had done well with his head, but there was so much that just looked off. He didn’t look like your Neil. He looked empty. You gripped his hand and brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. It was winter, and he was colder and paler than the snow.

You held him far longer than what was deemed socially acceptable before tucking the page into his lapel and swiftly walking away.

You weren’t there for his burial, and you knew you couldn’t be. It was just too much. If you had seen his casket close, if you had watched them shovel dirt on top of the wooden box, you would’ve dropped to your knees and screamed. Much like you’re doing now.

You sat on that same old park bench, knees clutched up to your soaked chest, sobbing harder than you ever had before. Your Neil was gone and you could never see him again, not ever.

When you saw Neil Perry for the last time, and god, did you see him, you knew nothing would ever be the same again.

[dolcefiente]

Dead Poets Society. 📖

10/10

— The damn tears… I can’t remember the last time i cried that much. It was absolutely beautiful. Literally made me into poetry. I’m reading and writing poetry. The impact this movie had on me is crazy. I wish i could forget about it and rewatch it again and again.

— At first, i was so hyped up! These boys were going to have such beautiful minds and hearts, they were going to have meaningful conversation. Mr. Keating was a wonderful teacher and the boys were so lucky to have him. I bet those lessons made every other student’s school life a lot more interesting and fun aswell. Made me wish i had someone to inspire me like him.

— This part was 🔛🔝.

— Amazing cinematography, amazing lighting, amazing cast, amazing script, amazing storyline, amazing actors… It felt as if they were actually living their normal lives in that school everyday. I loved every scene and absorbed it carefully.

— These two made me giggle so much. As someone who’s dealing with anxiety, i can say that we all need a neil in out lives. Because the guy inside us keeps us away from a lot of things and someone promosing us that ‘it’s going to be okay’ affects so much than you can guess. Even if that person doesn’t really do much, we feel relieved that someone actually cares our state of minds. That takes most the weight off of us.

— After i finished the movie, i scrolled through my socials and people were also crazy about these two. I didn’t really considered them as lovers but it’s one way to look at it i guess. 😅

— As the movie continued, i started feeling anxious and my guts didn’t fail me again. Neil’s death was a trauma for all but Todd & Mr. Keating the most. Losing such a person that ruled the people with kindness and the leader who never asked but always needed of course made people feel empty. But losing your roommate who checked up if you’re doing fine, convinced you to do as you wish, promised to take care of you is just… So upsetting that i had to pause and cry.

— Also FUCK Cameron for what he did. He always felt uneasy with the group and tried getting along anyway. Then ruined everything as if it was his own and everyone began to feeling depressed. Mr. Keating opened eyes and Cameron had no right to poke his annoying ass in them. I hope he becomes whatever he wants to be but never seen in daylight ever again. Mr. Keating was a captain to all.

— Todd’s poem, Neil’s play and failed confession, boys running to the woods to read their silly poems and every other scene was filmed so beautifully. Every single one of them had meanings behind them and i enjoyed all.

— Everyone should watch DPS before it’s too late to feel silly things in your stomach for reading beautiful writings. Watch it before you grow up as adults.

🎬,, Oh captain, my captain. You will be missed. (Rest in peace Robin Williams.)”

[toubledrouble]

More pjo/hoo headcanons

Apollo kids exclusively work out with musics as a cabin, but they always argue about the playlist that should be chosen. Will uses councillor privilege to force them to pick country.

The Athena cabin has a projector for sure

Also, they have youtube premium because of lofi music

Apollo kids have been banned from using guns in training with others (they recreated the ten duel commandments from Hamilton and actually ended up shooting without missing the target. Now, they can only shoot on regular targets, not living ones)

Hephaestus and Athena kids are a living proof of the "an architect's dream is an engineer's nightmare" thing

There is definitely an Athena kid out there that hates math with a burning passion. Their mom isn't very happy about that.

Despite their rivalry, many Apollo kids have Ares cabin bffs - after all, they spend lots of time in the infirmary

Ares kids usually have a great relationship with their father - he is surprisingly encouraging and supportive

Will can definitely ride a horse and you can't convince me otherwise

Also. His mom has a yellow pickup truck with tons of stickers and a guitar on the backseat

Sally refused to use the subway ever since Percy was born (you know how the underground always smells like monsters and that's why Grover didn't notice the chimera? That was exactly why)

Percy used to cry in the seafood section of stores, especially if it had anything living there

Athena kids can achieve Eminem speed during debate, I will not elaborate any further

Oh also. They're not straight As kids, or at least not all of them, especially the older ones. I mean, the school system vs learning disorders? There's no way they're winning that fight entirely. They probably have the subjects they like and ace, and then the subject that are just there, and since they're not failing, they don't really care (yes this is about me getting a C from physics again, I hate physics)

Annabeth loves the "further is for physical distance, farther for metaphorical and father for emotional" tumblr post

Hera's cabin has a family portrait of the olympians, it's quite a bittersweet sight

Let Demeter kids have a scythe as their weapon of choice pls

Athena kids make so many lame nerd puns. Occasionally, a Hephaestus kid or a secret nerd will laugh.

Athena kids are definitely the type to fight the teacher about their grade. They will gather evidence that their answer is technically correct and either impress or annoy the teacher so much they will actually change their grade

All Athena kids have a resting bitch face (just like Hermes kids have a face that says they're troublemakers)

Hermes kids are naturally skilled at orientation on a map and in terrain

Hephaestus and Hermes cabin have once held a lock-picking competition (based on speed but also the amount of damage caused)

Every single person in the Athena cabin has seen both Dead Poets Society and School of Rock (and loved it)

For an absolutely nonexistent reason I think the Aphrodite cabin has some pro tip for washing blood out of clothes and stuff

Very stereotypical of me but in the Ares cabin, the strongest is the leader and their word is law, if you disagree, you gotta participate in a one on one fight of choice (it doesn't matter that much if you win, at least you still prove your bravery and the courage to stand up for what you believe in). Meanwhile, the Athena cabin votes on everything. And yes, they are proud of it. And yes, they have senate level debates where everyone uses whatever dirt they have on the others to win (because they probably know too much gossip without even really intending to) sometimes. Only sometimes.

Also. They have ostrakism which is basically a thing where you break a pot/vase/something, each person gets a piece and carves on the name of someone who is endangering democracy in their option. The person with the most votes gets chased out I think. Athena kids have changed up that part, they simply ban that person from voting for 6 months.

Athena kids with learning disorders. That's all I want to say.

Mentioning my previous 'Athena cabin has a Pallas cat' headcanon

Also Athena kids are the people who will point out historical stuff behind the names of places or companies (example: my country has a shopping centre called palladium, i instill the lore of the original palladium on anyone unfortunate enough to be there with me)

Apollo kids personalise their instruments - stickers, paint, carved initials, cool straps and other accessories, you name it!

They also have a whole row of those instrument hangers, yk what i mean?

[ragesingoddess]

OK so there was a dead poets society play in my city and I went to see it a couple of days ago and now that I'm somehow coherent and emotionally stable enough i want to talk about my favourite part of the adaptation.

The stage of the play was a kind of moving platform that rotated in a circle so that the change of the different sets and perspectives would become easier. During Neil's death scene he was standing on the front of the platform facing the audience, wearing his Puck crown just like the movie. However he was not alone in the scene. On his left side where the poets, having a meeting on their cave in the background incoherent at first just doing their thing in the background. On his right side stood Keating, his eyes always on Neil, standing at a certain distance as if a glass wall was preventing him from getting closer.

Neil starts narrating the words of the ending scene of midsummer's night dream, a bright, pained smile on his face, like he was trying to say his final lines the way he was supposed to, triumphant and brilliant.

As he is saying his lines he pauses at parts; giving room to the poets to start narrating poetry themselves, the platform rotating so that their meeting is the front view of the audience. Keating's eyes are still locked on Neil, looking desperate to reach out, to touch him, to help him, but he is still unable to do much of anything.

Neil however, gradually starts moving closer to the ports, standing in front of them, looking at them but of course unable to interact. They can't see him, but for those precious moments he can. He is with them in the cave ready to open his final meeting.

And then Charlie asks; "who wants to read who wants to read first tonight?"

And Todd volunteers. Todd who has been quiet in ever single meeting choosing to stick to Neil's side, Todd who always claimed he prefers listening, Todd who had his walls up enough to keep a distance from the boyish affection and belonging the rest of the boys offered, Todd who said to Neil 'You say things and people listen and im not like that ' and believed it, Todd speaks up and volunteers to read one of his own poems first. Because of the poets. Because of Neil.

The play gives Neil the chance to witness this. Moments before his death he watched from his own frozen spot Todd overcome his anxiety,throw down his walls and become the person Neil always encouraged him to be, the person he always believed him to be.

And Neil smiles. His brightest smile in the play, spliting his face in half, moved and amazed and oh, so, so proud.

The poets go quiet again, Neil finishes the rest of his lines, the poets start chanting a poem about life and then Neil pulls the trigger.

The play follows the movie almost scene to scene close after that. But that moment, that directing decision to give Neil the chance to see the impact he so clearly had on his friends and on Todd especially, felt almost like a delibarare choice to show to him that even though his choices broke him, even though he decided taking his own life was the only way, everything he spent his life advocating for is not gone with him; it lives inside the lives of every person that loves him. His friends will go on living without him but the impact he had on them will keep blooming inside their hearts because it has changed who they are. Because he changed them.

It felt like a final act of kindness to the boy who was always kind. A final gift to him to make his choice somewhat less painfull.

[flowerytale]

My niece today came to my home. When she's with me she always loves to open my wardrobe, try on clothes (mostly my chiffon capes or long skirts) "auntie, are you a witch?". Then every single time she organize my jewelry drawer; and she asks me to tell her the stories behind the vintage pieces, mostly about the old photos that I've found in the lockets, I invent, I'm sure she knows that. I know that this sounds silly, but I really hope that this will become a core memory for her. Her mom did it for me when I was a kid; she's my cousin, 13 years older than me and she was my hero when I was little. She's an 80s kid and her room was so iconic, the walls were covered with posters: from Britney to Patti, from Tim Burton's Batman to Dead Poets Society. One day we spent hours covering every single inch of the walls with glow in the dark stars stickers, and then we laid on the ground listening music, waiting for the dark. I don't know if she remember that, but it was so special for me. A core memory. Some years ago I stopped talking with her, with everyone actually, due to my depression and eating disorder. I don't want to be that person ever again, a monster. I want to protect my niece, I want to do it for that little girl that was so happy watching those stars glowing in the darkness. Her eyes were bright, and her heart full of hope.

[georgefairbrother]

Arguably the single most influential figure in terms of how the fallen of the Great War were memorialised was Rudyard Kipling, whose own son, John, a second lieutenant in the Irish Guards, was reported (missing presumed) killed at Loos, aged 18. (His grave was not identified until 1992).

Rudyard Kipling, an internationally renowned novelist, poet, short story writer and journalist, was subsequently invited by the British government to help establish the Imperial War Graves Commission.

He applied the phrase ‘Known unto God’ for the graves in which the occupant was unidentified, and recommended that headstones be uniform and should have regimental identification wherever possible.

"...What knowledge I have of the feeling among officers and men, dead and alive, convinces me that their chief desire would be for distinctive regimental headstones which could be identified in every quarter of the world where a soldier of their regiment may be buried..."

Perhaps his most significant contribution was establishing the policy that names on communal memorials be listed strictly in alphabetical order, regardless of rank, aristocratic background or class.

Upon his death in 1936, the War Graves Commission noted that Rudyard Kipling had either written, selected or approved every inscription on IWGC graves and memorials throughout the world, and had, on his own initiative, personally inspected memorial sites in Belgium, France, Egypt and Palestine.

Background from Melvyn Bragg's In Our Time (BBC Radio 4), the website of the Kipling Society, and BBC News (2016): Solving the Mystery of Rudyard Kipling's Son

[toddandersonsyawp]

I haven't done a post like this in a while, but I just came across a dps edit on Pinterest (not sure if the op made the edit, I've asked them for proper credit- will update if I get an answer) it was called "The Beauty of Dead Poets Society." Here:

(if you get a notif for my acc, dw I didn't doxx myself- it's an alt. just ignore it ^^)

Whether it was just the nostalgic visuals, the song playing in the background (September Song by the talented Agnes Obel), or a mix of both- it honestly invoked a different view of the film in me.

The story of these kids finding passion admist suppression - I applied it to a larger picture. I think that the whole film/book was an overarching metaphor that mirrors our lives as human beings living in modern societies.

We are the kids. No matter our ages. We all come from different backgrounds and have different specific struggles, but in the end, are our struggles as a whole that different? Look at Neil and Todd, for example. Todd is the other sibling; he'll never be his older brother in his parents and society's (the school's) eyes. He carries a burden and an immense amount of pressure. And Neil? Different situation. He is the golden/only child; he carries that on his shoulders as well. Although their situations can be deemed opposites, they both are similar in the way that society has put massive pressure on them. Sound familiar? Yeah, one of the main reasons most of the dps audience can relate to them so much (and ALL of the other kids) is because of how much of a burden our society throws on us even as we grew up.

Notice how there are so many different personalities in the students; from anxious Todd, confident Charlie, rule-follower Cameron, to even Hopkins (unleash your inner "a cat sat on the mat"), I feel like everyone watching the film can relate even in part to at least one of these characters. These kids are a perfect way to express different types of people put under societal pressure and how they react differently (more on that later)

Queue Mr. Keating! Ah yes. I think we all have or will have a Mr. Keating in our lives. Mr. Keating symbolises pure inspiration. Our first and strongest taste of "what could be" if we only took the burden of society and threw it out the window. Despite the school (which represents society as a whole) trying to enforce its normalities and trying to fit us in a single tightly-packed conformity, we have that one inspiration admist the system that gives us passion. Does the system like this? No, not at all. This taste of freedom, that is already limited, is giving us reasons to be curious: "What could I become, who could I become, if I didn't conform?". Curiousity can be easily concealed, luckily. Confidence is what the people in control see first. Our "paces" change.

Confidence mixed with curiosity is the most powerful weapon against a static society.

We all don't react the same to this mix. Some of us take a path of full rebellion. Those people are able to break out of the system successfully when they want to. This is the path that Charlie Dalton symbolises. All he needed was that spark of inspiration (again, represented by Mr. Keating) to completely face society head-on, smirking. He got expelled from the school on his own accord. (I will add, I'm not saying this path is easier than the others. How you react to inspiration does not equal the burden you took on prior or during exposure to it) Some also have a path of confidence- however, they don't make the best decisions with their new freedom. This is a result of being oppressed for so long; the explosive taste of "possibility" clouds their judgement. Knox, fortunately, learned along the way, as most people who take his path do.

Probably the most explored in the film: others, well, they don't face societal expectations head-on. They want to. With every fibre of their being, they need to. They can go on either path; play by the system's rules until they acquire more freedom (Todd), or give up. Neil; he couldn't break out of society, but he couldn't live in it either. His method of escape was not like Charlie's. Neil believed that society was a heavy curtain draped on all people and couldn't be lifted up to let them breathe. Suffocation. Many people take this path. We see it everywhere.

Dead Poet's Society is full of so many different paths taken by so many of the students and those around them - it's all to show how we react differently to the world's pressure and burden.

Inspiration (Mr. Keating) is a spark that spreads across so many of us. As I've discussed in a previous post, inspiration has no end; it can reach those who are bound to and/or enforcing the system (the Latin teacher). It reaches out to our lives; how we react to it and use it against its inverse- society (Welton/ the parents)- is dependent on all of our own individual paths (represented by the students). The Dead Poet's Society itself represents the people who dare take control of their lives with passion and inspiration. This "society", in every way, is what our society should be.

[wildernezz]

dead poets society scene that cannot be slept on any longer (im just rambling and analyzing the sillies and pretending to be smart. also spoilers loll)

I GET THAT THE DEAD POETS SOCIETY BARELY HAS A FANDOM BUT WHY DOES EVERYONE SLEEP ON THE PUNCH SCENE WITH CHARLIE AND CAMERON?? IT'S GENUINELY SO WELL WRITTEN AND PROBABLY ONE OF THE BEST DIALOGUE SCENES I'VE SEEN IN FILM??? HELLO?????

every single actor in this scene does such an amazing job. they genuinely all feel like such real and complex characters it's insane.

i don't care if you hate cameron's character but you cannot deny that his scene was amazingly pathetic. his actor did such a perfect job at portraying him almost like a rat backed into a corner. he's doing everything he can to save himself, telling himself he's the one in the right, the one with common sense, when he knows he's faking it. all his dominance is such a pathetic lie and it's genuinely impressive to watch it be portrayed so accurately. it is exactly what it's like to watch someone desperately claw for an ounce of respect. cameron was always a desperate character, and the moment he got the chance to drop his friends and come out "higher" than them, it just made him even sadder to watch.

and meanwhile charlie's the perfect example of failed justice and passion being outpoured all at once. he has so much determination and desire to stand up for what he believes, but it's all pouring out at once. he doesn't know how to handle all of it. he knows he's done for but he can't give up for the life of him, and it all comes out in a solid swing to cameron's face. that single punch probably sums up everything about charlie, and honestly everything i love about him as a character. he seems like a menace-y little bastard, but at the end of the day he just genuinely wants to do what he thinks is right. he's fiercely protective of the people he looks up to but he'll never admit it. that little shit has ZERO clue how to handle his emotions rationally and it's honestly respectable. he doesn't know exactly who he is, but his values are so strong that he's unknowingly guided by them. basically he's just a silly little guy and i hope he punches people more often :3

AND TODD THE BELOVED <33 he is so underrated in this scene it's insane. every word feels like it's falling out of him. he's lost his best friend and he's lost all control over himself. it's powerful seeing such quiet and reserved character unwillingly transform into everything they've been trying to keep down. i will forever be in love with how his character completely breaks down after neil's death. this is kinda just me projecting but he fr feels like a representation of all of my own thoughts when breaking down, except he's actually voicing them. todd supremacy for-fucking-ever.

THE OTHERS ARE ALSO SPECIAL TOO BUT THEY DONT GET A LOTTA LINES FOR ME TO ESPECIALLY ANALYZE SO IM JUST GONNA ADD RANDOM TIDBITS OF THE OTHERS HERE.

i absolutely adore how knox acts in this scene. especially his lines of "don't touch him charlie, you do and you're out," and then for that to be followed by "you don't know that" after charlie's little "i'm out anyway"?????? knox's entire personality in this movie might be about trying to rizz up girls (and it's a little concerning now but it was a different time guys please he's silly guys i swear), but he's honestly SOO sweet when he's not focused on that. he's just as protective of his friends and it's so nice seeing him be the voice of reason. like did u guys not see how quickly he reached for charlie when he was about to kick cameron's ass????? he genuinely wants the best for his friends and he knows them well enough to try and stop them from doing any irrational shit (even tho it failed later but shshsh). love knox for that.

meeks and pitts don't say anything in this scene, but their looks alone give off so much. you can just SEE how much meeks feels betrayed by cameron, and then pitts looks like he's still trying to process the fact that cameron would even do something like that. it's honestly so sad but god it's so amazing to watch.

anyways thank u for coming to my ted talk plspls ask me about films or drop ur random analyzations to me im so desperate to analyze my favorite little guys :33

[masivechaos]

SWEET NOTHING

neil perry x  gn! reader

Request: yes / no

see the request

Synopsis: when you started dating Neil, everyone expected so much from you. Except for Neil, because all he needed was you.

Warning/content: mention of not being liked during Welton once, welton boys and girl au, my english

a.n.: 0.8k words- inspired by sweet nothing by taylor swift!

masterlist / dead poets society masterlist / navigation / taglist

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

Your feet padded on the wooden floor, passing a hand through your hair as you yawned. You heard a chuckle and you lifted your head, finding a shirtless Neil with his back against the kitchen counter.

“Hi darling” he smiled, gently pressing his lips against yours. Not awake enough, you settled for a hum as a response and earned a peck on the temple from your boyfriend. You wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your head in his chest, letting out a long sigh. It was the best way to start the weekend.

Dating Neil was simple. Not that it was boring, you got to experience new things every day, but he didn’t expect anything from you.

When you started dating, everyone had high expectations, saying you didn’t deserve Neil at all and you hated that there was a point where you thought they were right. An ex-best friend deciding to ruin your reputation was enough for the integrality of Welton to hate you… until Neil became friends with you.

He came into your life, bright and warm, without caring about the things he heard before asking you out on a date. You were now dating him for a few months and you had never felt more loved.

Because he never expected anything from you. All he ever wanted from you was nothing, sweet nothing. Lazy mornings with lazy kisses were enough for him. And it made you feel great to finally have someone who liked you for what you were and not for what people wanted you to be.

“Slept well?” he asked, his hand was cradling the back of your head and his lips were lingering on your temple. You nodded and lifted your head, you observed his features, taking the time to admire every single bump, line and mole on his skin.

“Do you want me to cook something?” you asked, making Neil’s face light up as he heard the sound of your voice for the first time this day.

“No, I was going to bake pancakes”

“But I wan-”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’ and pecked your lips with a little smirk. Neil turned around, grabbed what he needed and started to cook. You decided to sit on the counter to watch him making the pancakes as he hummed and to occasionally taste the preparation.

After a dozen minutes, both of your plates were filled with Neil’s pancakes. You sat down on the couch once your stomach was filled, followed by Neil who wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him.

You both graduated Hellton a few weeks ago and you decided to stay at your house since both of your parents weren’t there for the month, marriage anniversary and all. 

“I like to be with you” your voice broke the silence that settled. You felt Neil holding you a little tighter, with your back pressed against his front you could feel the way he was breathing slowly, his chest rising and falling against you.

He pressed his lips on your temple “Because you never expect anything from me. Nothing material. You love me for what I am… I think?”

You heard him letting out a small laugh “Of course I love you for what you are. People at Hellton were dumb, they will do too much for gossip. But I know who you are, and you are who I want.”

It wasn’t the first time he told you this. But it didn’t matter, you still adored the way it sounded to your ears. It made you feel so loved and appreciated. You were welcomed by his side. He was the first ever person who made you feel this way. Because the boy was born with the sun in his eyes and his heart in his hands. And it was all for you now, he gave it all.

That was probably the most significant proof of love you were ever given. And of course you gave everything you could back, making small gifts when you could, buying flowers when you could, baking cookies when you could. All of this to see his cheeks raise and his eyes light up.

And even when you couldn’t, he was just as happy. A smile would cross his face just from seeing you. Holding you was enough to make his heart beat faster. And oh boy was he exploding inside when both of your lips were touching.

“I love you Neil” you thought he knew but you never said it out loud. And it showed when Neil’s eyes widened, if you were careful enough you could see pink tinting his cheeks.

He turned you around so you were fully facing him before pushing you down on the sofa. Without thinking he kissed you. “I love you too,” a kiss on your forehead “So–” a kiss on your left cheek “much” a kiss on your lips.

“Cheesy,” you teased. But even in this situation, he was smiling so brightly.

“Only for you”

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

⋆ ★ neil perry taglist: @cauliflowertree @moonlitmeeks @toindeedbeag0d @mad-elia @juneberrie @mystic-writings @natashxromanovf @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @spookydarkwitch @duxpuella @innerloverpainter @vancitycharlie @venussflytraps @diorgirl444

[crinkle-eyed-boo]

I’m sure the guys don’t hate 1D, I just think that after almost 8 years of the band being over it’s time to let it go. Fans can still enjoy the music and express their love for it but I do think bringing it up when they’re doing their solo work is dismissive of that work. I personally would find it tiring if I started a new job or endeavour and people were constantly talking about something from the past especially when it’s happening every single time I was presenting something new that I was extremely proud of. It may not be happening every single time with Harry but it is happening with Louis. Yes he has said in the documentary that he wasn’t ready to move on but he also expressed some very complexed feelings (some not so good) about his time in the band. He’s worked hard to move forward. Maybe it’s time to let all the guys move forward and leave 1D as a fond, past memory.

THEY ARE THE ONES BRINGING UP ONE DIRECTION BY PUTTING ONE DIRECTION SONGS IN THEIR OWN SET LISTS.

Editing to add now that I’ve cooled down a bit: I would love if the press would stop asking them about 1D and focus on their new work, like that would be amazing.

FANS shouldn’t have to be held to that same standard though. I liken it to me meeting Robert Sean Leonard at a stage door and saying great job in the play but REALLY THANK YOU FOR DEAD POETS SOCIETY, it means so much to me. One Direction will always mean something to fans, it’s why LOUIS means something to some people, so let fans be.

AND THEY ARE STILL THE ONES PUTTING 1D ON THEIR SET LISTS.

[wordsmithwhumpsandfluff]

This is a random question, but what is each OC's favorite and least favorite movie? Or tv show?

Oooooh, love this question.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Isaac is a huge Marvel fan, and absolutely LOVES ‘Captain America: Civil War’, and he could watch it any time he’s bored. His least favorite movie would probably be that live action ‘Dora The Explorer’ movie, which he was definitely forced to see with his lil sis😭

Oliver loves a movie I mentioned in an older fic: the version of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ that has Leonardo DiCaprio in it. He absolutely LOVES that movie more than any other. And he doesn’t have a least favorite movie, but rather a least favorite genre. He hates any kind of horror movie with a ton of gore and violence.

Aiden is a huge Marvel fan like Isaac and he loves ‘The Amazing Spiderman’ with Andrew Garfield, and he absolutely has a literal Spiderman suit at his parents’ house that he wears on Halloween to hand candy out to kids. And his least favorite tv-show is the new ‘Pokémon: Horizons’ show that he takes as a personal offense as a life-long Pokémon lover (and I honestly agree).

Spirit absolutely loves one movie and one show: ‘Deadpool’ and ‘Haikyuu’. She loves ‘Deadpool’ because he’s funny, he’s Ryan Reynolds, and he’s just an awesome anti-hero. And the anime ‘Haikyuu’ is a guilty pleasure for her and she watches it when she just wants to relax and chill. As for her least favorite movie, she absolutely hates ‘The Shallows’, which is a terrifying shark movie.

Keiko absolutely loves the show ‘House’ and even has a sentimental stuffed koala he named Dr. Wilson, which Amberlynn finds absolutely adorable. And he hates the movie ‘Stepbrothers’ because he finds it to be the ultimate level of cringy.

Amberlynn’s favorite movie is ‘Oliver and Company’ because it always makes her just feel happy, and she knows EVERY SONG by heart. And her least favorite movie is the Christmas ‘Beethoven’ movie where they made Beethoven talk😭.

Eliana truly has so much love for ‘The Dead Poets Society’ despite how much it makes her sob. And her least favorite movie is ‘Love and Gelato’ because she firmly believes that they ruined the story from the original book.

Jordan is an addict when it comes to ‘Greys Anatomy’, and she has Arizona Robbins to thank for her discovery that she’s into girls😘. And she agrees with El that ‘Love and Gelato’ is the worst movie to EVER exist because she also loves the original book.

Birdie’s favorite movie is ‘Inside Out’ because it makes her feel so many emotions that eventually all just turn nostalgic. And her least favorite show is ‘SpongeBob’ for the simple reason that, as she puts it, “his laugh scratches my brain the wrong way.”

Felix is a 110% ‘Gilmore Girls’ fanatic and knows almost every single detail of almost every single episode, and even has a Pinterest board that’s just photos of Tristan, Dean, Jess, and Logan. And he despises the live action version of ‘Diary of a Wimpy Kid’ cuz. . . reasons.

Atticus loves the movie ��Little Rascals’ and he used to watch it every day as a kid, and still loves it now that he’s older. And he hates ‘Chucky: Childs Play’, which is the goriest horror movie that he’s ever seen, and he started crying the first and last time he watched it when he was 13 and at the movies with friends who did tease him for it a little, but comforted him when they realized how genuinely upset and sick it made him to watch.

[rockymintscollective]

Small Neil Perry Rant from Dead Poets Society (SPOILERS AHEAD)

Okay before I continue this I must reiterate the fact that this has spoilers and will also involve heavy subjects such as suicide, death, and grief of said death. This also involves parental issues and possible alluded-to abuse. This will be a heavy rant.

Continue reading if you're fine with said subjects.

Okay I have to say I don't understand what one of my other friends (I'll call them Friend C, Friend A being the one who said positive things, but I'll get to that) said about not getting/understanding what the end of the movie was like.

I understand that it would come as a shock for most, but... The signs were right there for Neil Perry to have at least some implied depression or something to make him so affected.

Like you see it in the first scene. Or well not the first scene but one of the first interactions that Neil has with his dad.

Most kids call their parents by "Dad" or "mom" or even "Pa" and "Ma", but you see Neil calling him "Father." Not even something less formal, he calls him father. All the time. Even whenever you see him talk to Todd later on when he finds interest in theater, you hear him call his dad by father.

Also adding onto this---You see most of the other characters, such as Meeks or as Knox say "dad" or "mom" if I recall correctly. It's been a few hours since I've seen the movie but you get what I mean.

Also, adding onto the fact that Neil outright lies to Mr. Keating about his talk with his dad? Like you know that there must've been something that made him that afraid to talk to his dad about wanting to become an actor.

Not only that but you see it. Especially so whenever his dad comes and picks him up after the show, takes him home, and tells him he's going to be sent off to Military school. That shit's NOT easy, and that's coming from someone who's had military family members confess how rough it is.

Adding onto this, you HAVE to understand the fact that you have to be in that kid's shoes and imagine what it must feel like.

You're about to lose all your friends. About to lose the one thing that made you happy. About to lose the one teacher you liked, about to basically lose everything. He's also aware of the fact that when he graduates, he's immediately being shipped off to medical school.

Which, by the way, I think everyone forgets that fact. His father was that engrossed with his own life that he was going to just send his son off to medical school as soon as he finished Welton. Like he genuinely had no say about his future or his life. I'm pretty sure if his father could, he would've found him a woman to marry. /lh

Anyway. You kinda also feel like there's no other hope left, right? Basically left alone and even if you try to cut contact, you're probably still going to have constant reminders of your father and he'll probably hunt you down, either way.

So of course your last option would probably be, as morbid as it is, to. You know. Stop the clock early.

Also, can I just say, the way everyone coped with everything is so understandable? Like oh my god.

Sure you don't see much of how they react or how they feel, mostly just seeing Todd and Charlie's reactions, but my god that's enough to see to know.

Todd's utterly broken self and puking into the snow in response to everything, while all the others have to try and distract him from blaming Neil's dad. (Which honestly, if I was one of them, I too would accuse Neil's dad to be honest)

Not only that but Charlie telling them all to back off and to stop to let Todd grieve in his own way?? My god. That shit fucking felt like a bag of bricks hitting my chest my GOD.

Also I'm bringing up my mutual Wildernezz's rant in here about the scene with the punching because oh my god. Yeah. I see why it's so underrated but I agree with every single one of those points he made. Like oh my god

Also, personal opinion: The ending where Keating goes to leave and Todd stands up, with an outburst, going "They made us sign it I'm so sorry-" was so amazingly shot. Especially the scene where they also all stand on their desks. Well not all of them but you get what I mean

Like they all clearly care so very deeply for Mr. Keating and care about how he teaches. They loved him as a teacher and you can tell with how they act.

Like.... You can just tell they adored it with his class. Like

My mind's dying (/dram) right now but I still so very much am in love with this movie and I heard they had a book they made based on this said movie and I'm so interested in reading it so I'll get back to you on that

[marmaladesparrows]

just watched Mona Lisa Smile (2003) and whilst there's a lot of legitimate critiques to be had of it (in particular the main character's relationship with the skeezy Italian prof. whilst ultimately shown to be bad feels really weird to have happened in the first place), it's so baffling to me that it is sitting at 34% on Rotten Tomatoes. Like I hate aggregate movie review site percentages on a good day but like what the actual fuck.

like idk to me it just feels like people are really averse to movies about women in such a knee-jerk irrational way. Like one review I saw contrasted it with Dead Poet's Society, complaining that every single character has "one character trait" - which like... yeah? it's an ensemble movie that often happens but also like Dead Poet's Society is not better at that than it in that regard?? most of the characters in Dead Poet's have like their main thing which they are about and the movie is them going through it, same with this one? It's not a bad thing for a movie to do and it's a baffling take to say it's what separates them and makes Mona Lisa Smile bad where Dead Poet's Society is not. It so strongly feels like the "people will fill in blanks of interiority for male characters and will not for female characters" critique that does the rounds on here sometimes.

Like I don't need people to turn around and say it's amazing or better than Dead Poet's (even if I personally prefer it) but like c'mon it is nowhere near that bad. It feels like people just saw it was similar to Dead Poet's (which it is) and decided it was a bad rehash without actually giving it a proper chance, which feels so unfair.