#fuck digital media studies bitch

[winonaparadise]

short story 💯

wrote a very quick story about a class i took in college. if you like my writing in my videos you may like this

Five years ago today I was clawing through state university. I had switched majors in an effort to come away with something more material from my college experience – but I was also trying to earn as many credits with as few courses to keep my schooling short and cheap.

I took a heavy weighted class in “media law.” A subject notoriously as intricate as it is absolutely fucking stupid. Anything you could learn, Disney will change tommorrow. The professor was an adjunct, splitting his time between the humble basement where boys with Pulp Fiction posters in their dorms fiddled with cameras and the actual law school where he was employed some miles down the road. I have never seen Pulp Fiction, but I’ve fiddled with enough cameras and enough of the boys who own them to have reviewed it twice. This is not a problem to me now.

Then I was stupid. Twenty. And basically friendless. I spent all my time trying to make something the same way the universe spent billions of years pouring hot soup into holes and hoping life would bubble out. I studied Japanese during quiet matches of PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds. I never got a win, and I never got an “A” in Japanese.

Weeks of school went by as I skimmed textbooks, got high, and thought about talking to literally anyone. Academic words danced around the edges of my brain like sand. I wrote essays on the same autopilot I write today. Feverish. Flowing. Fantasizing about what it would be like to go out with someone instead of texting a girl who now lived in Japan and making ramen noodles while listening for footsteps in a digital warzone.

I did all my work. I submitted it on something called “canvas” that the muscle memory in my fingers still types in search bars to this day. I never checked my grades. I knew they were bad.

Classes dragged me through the week on a bungee cord. I lived a block away from the bulk of them and found myself drifting in halls of buildings I’d never attended just to keep myself from meandering back home to draw a bad comic about a girl who lived in hell. 

I knew nobody. I went nowhere. I struggled to do classwork alone on outdoor benches dreaming of someone speaking to me. I needed to live in hell instead.

My media law professor was late the weekend after our first term essays were due. I don’t know what mode of transportation he took to get from one school to the other but today the Carolina sun had drenched him sweaty. We were chilly waiting for him to begin.

“Just about every single one of you failed.” He spat and chugged coffee through the entire period. “While I first was grading I thought I was the one who failed.”

He didn’t let the moment of respite last. “But I also did something I’ve never done before.” He paced like my father did when a restaurant was closed early. “I gave out my first perfect score. Which prevents me from grading on a curve.”

He huffed, he assigned a new reading, and he rushed out like he had lit dynamite. “Do better!” “What an asshole.” The girl who sat next to me in every class spoke as if she had been holding her breath. “Fuck him and fuck whoever got that hundred.”

“I know right!” I launched in on her anger, feeling it too. Back and forth we complained. We walked off campus together. She had long blonde hair and towered over me. I had felt ugly and mousey next to her, but today I felt like her equal. It felt good to bitch.

“I got a fucking 50. What about you?”

“It wasn’t pretty.” I recalled how I stayed up the night before the assignment was due. I milked bullshit into a puree. I got a rush of adrenaline from killing someone with a shotgun through a door in an abandoned house on the outskirts of Pochinki. I was probably close to being expelled. “This class is too fucking hard,” she smoked and shook her head by a bus stop on Tate Street. “I’m not about to lose my freetime over it.”

“Right.” I imagined her at parties. Black silhouettes against colored lights and deafening music. Like The Social Network. “We should be partners for the next assignment,” she got out her phone and passed it to me for my number. I typed it in. I waved her off on the bus. We did the assignment together. We texted each other about our studies. We joked about finding the guy who got the perfect score and beating him senseless. I thought about talking to her about my art or what we were making in other classes, but never did.

Towards the end of the semester I had to plan the next. A whirlpool churned in my stomach as I clicked on “grades” on my campus’ online portal. I had an A+ in a single course. 

Media Law.

My friend from class texted me that she was dreading the final. I texted her that if we failed I would kill Mr. Perfect Score. She texted “lol.”

She passed the course. I got my degree so I assume I did too. We stopped texting.

That professor emailed me asking me to take a course at the law school down the road. He said he would let me sit in and see if I wanted to change majors a third time. I never replied.

A law degree would just make Mr. Perfect Score a hundred times more punchable.

[xylomilo]

Ninja Headcannons

Cole

Any pronouns

Demiromantic Bisexual with male lean

Afro-Latino with a little bit of French from great-grandfather

NU Goth

Collects records

Short butterfly locs

Booba 🤲🤲🤲

Will eat anything and everything if it doesn’t leave his mouth

PTSD from the fall in March of the Oni 🥰

After DotD, the others (and him) kept forgetting Cole isn’t a ghost anymore so they kept hitting him and he kept bumping into walls for a while

His mother would make cake from him when younger, thus why he loves it so much

Releases stress by training, baking cakes, or listening to music

Likes to study the meaning behind song lyrics

Jay

Demi-Boy

He/They

Bisexual

3/4 Korean 1/4 White (Libber was half white half Korean)

Portable charger that never runs out

“BRO HIS HEART STOPPED BEATING” Jay: “Let me try” ELECTROCUTES HIM

Southern accent that faded away over time

Scene kid in high school

Mythology nerd

Everyone bullies him for being part white

Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons fan

Refuses to download Twitter bc his fans scare the shit out of him

Audhd(?) (Autistic ADHD)

Kai

Trans

He/Him

Pansexual

Half Filipino Half Argentinian

Used to sacrifice a lot of things just to see Nya happy (cough cough Kenny McCormick cough cough)

Switched names with Nya one day and got hit by the transgender-fication ray

Constantly refers to Nya as “sis” because she used to be the only thing he had

Only good at forging magical weapons (the opposite of Karlof lmao)

Allergic to seafood but didn’t know until he was talking to the others like “yk it’s weird how fish makes my lips tingle” and they went 😟😟

Used to have nightmares the day his parents disappeared

Has accidentally made so many fires out the most random things

Every sea creature hates him

Dragons adore him and Oni loathe him

Lloyd

Trans, non-binary

He/They

Achillean AroAce spectrum

Vitiligo

Japanese with a bit of Chinese from grandma

AUTISTIC ADHD HAVER 🫵🫵🫵🫵

Has never seen any pictures of his grandmother, only heard vague stories

Lots of animals like him. Like a lot. Bro is followed by anything and everything when he goes to the park.

Seasonal allergies (FUCKING LOSER (im projecting))

Collector of books he will never read, physical and digital

Old dreamsmp fan- the others still make fun of him for it to this day

Sleeps in the most uncomfortable positions and places but is somehow fine

Lloyd wishes he had stayed in contact with Brad.

Had matching bracelets with Brad, but Lloyd doesn’t remember where he put it

Lloyd sometimes stalks Brad’s social media pages to see what he’s been up to, but is too scared to actually follow him back. When they do though, they find out Brad blocked them on everything the day after.

Post season 16, Lloyd became a pet sitter for a while. Imagine their surprise when the door opened and he was face-to-face with Brad. Lloyd quit the next day.

Nya

Trans

She/Her

Bisexual

Half Filipino Half Argentinian

Really observant

Knows what Kai did for her when they were younger and she feels awful about it

Can manipulate water in people but it’s hard to do

Couldn’t remember what her parents looked or sounded like until Season 7

Used to steal a lot when she was younger to help her brother

Every sea creature likes her

Dragons are terrified of her

Wakes up in a cold sweat when her older middle-child senses start tingling (Red Green Blue Ghost by beloved 🙏🙏)

Her and Morro got intense beef like fist fighting type (middle child stuff)

“Babe why is your mom hot” “Nya istfsm”

Zane

He/They/It

Pansexual

Vitiligo

African-American

AUTISTIC 🫵🫵

Used to overheat a lot pre season 4 but his ice powers cancelled it out

“Oh this media is nice” proceeds to research it for the next twelve hours (me)

JAZZ LIKER, GET HIS ASS

Gets treated like a brand new iPhone by Acronix 😭😭

Doesn’t need to charge, being near Jay Is enough 😭😭

Kenny McCormick by how many times he has died

“Don’t worry guys, I can fix this problem” pulls out gun

Wakes up in cold sweat “MY STUPID BITCH SENSES ARE TINGLING”

Their heart is made of ice, literally (their power core is made of blue crystal and chronosteel, which is how the old EM gave Zane their powers)

PIXAL

She/They/It

Unlabeled

African

Collects everything and anything

“Aw, this is too expensive!” … “Wait I’m rich.”

Only wears turtlenecks and plaid pants/skirts

Small rivalry with Nya because everything PIXAL creates, Nya has created before

A little bit insane

Zane: Would you still love me if I was a worm?

PIXAL: You already are

“Woah, they’re laser focused!” and PIXAL is listening to celebrity drama videos

Likes watching people argue on Samurai X’s gender/pronouns (thinks its funny)

Acts like schlatt sometimes

Has a habit of speaking in a monotone voice and is genuinely surprised when people think it’s being rude

Brutally honest 😭😭 Kai will say “does this make my ass look fat?” and PIXAL will respond with “the opposite, actually.”

[finchmotionvideo]

I do genuinely dream of being mega wealthy(think Bezos. I dream big) Cuz I wouldn't do it like all you bleeding heart bitches who would give it away I would buy a mansion in 12 different countries to live in for each month of the year. Every one would have a different theme and amenities and I would have huge glass elevators instead of stairs and in each home I would install a pantry(with junk food for me but also everyones favorites) on each floor so I could always be snacking. and I'd have a cocktail bar with one of those robot mixologists. Can't forget that

And my God I'd have the finest electronic systems money can buy(inferior to passion, but I'm just trying to play Games here, man). Instead of having to emulate games I'd just have one of every system ever made. Would set up a program to auto-buy every game ever sold digitally and create the world's largest game preservation library. id pay volunteers to hunt for lost media(you might think this could be viewed as charitable. Well, Its not for you. It's so the video essay guys have better material.)

A little narc of me but (assuming i didn't have my own body but we were all still a system) I'd get hella fucking plastic surgery man I think that's metal. Hmm... This part displeases me... Yeah I'm not accepting that. remake my body to my specfications bitch(reduction here lift there oh and don't forget the semi-annual Botox for our jaw pain which we can't get consistently so we sometimes get bad pain). Oh God and I'd fix our eyes and I'd pay up the fucking nose to see anyone who will take the back pain seriously. I'd have every medical test run on us just for fun, have our brain and organs and bones imaged so they could be cool decor. One million percent getting our genome sequenced and paying a panel of world class experts as much as they wanted to write a study on our genes going over anything cool or interesting. Beau would pore over the results for fucking weeks.

Id have a pool and treadmill and (purposefully designed to be easily destructible) boxing bag so I can vent my rage better..

Don't get me wrong I would still see people of course but. Like. I'm throwing a house party at my megamansion and if you come you have to obey MY social rules(don't act like a fucking inconsiderate egotist. I bet everything I own that I can be an attentive conversationalist if you haven't pissed me off yet. Can you?). I'd be the soup nazi of my billionaire quualude raves. If I percieve of an Infraction(ableist behavior rude behavior or just if I find your incessant talking without consideration of what others think tiring) I can just actually admonish people for it from a position of power: "stop that or I'm kicking you out". The power to create a very optimal party environment in the palm of my hands... Perfectly curated vibes.

You know my wardrobe would be on point too like rooms upon rooms of tailored outfits or thrifted ones or bespoke pieces I bought off a museum struggling to stay afloat. Haha I'm just kidding I would get them to make exact replicas. Honestly I would go for 90s Nouveau riche Harvard undergrad who was raised on the teat of cutting edge parisian fashion but everyone else would have a much different answer to that question.

Beau could have some workshop with like 5 different morgan yu desks(adjustable height) absolutely unparalleled amounts of counter space and he would arrange all the supplies on ordered shelves for the easiest access so he can paint when he wants without going thru 45mins of setup and getting everything out. Probably he would also hire someone to set up a vault of digital comics so he could keep track of them all. Would give him an electric rotary press so he doesn't hurt his arms and I'd get him things he's always wanted for his birthday like [wouldn't you like to know].

Riley could have any instrument or cooking tool or ingredient he wants the spices and ingredients will be as stacked as the one in The Menu(2022). I'd pay for his private lessons from Gordon god damn Ramsey I would PAY to have Julia Child's soul reanimated so he could round out his baking skills. I would hire a pastry chef(a Cuban one, and also a French one) to make the traditional specialities for him each morning and a live-in or on call sushi chef. Honestly he would probably just volunteer or do some kind of hobby that puts him in contact w all different types of people that seems to be how he'd like to spend his time.

Thalia could uh. Have enough money to buy a personality idfk.

June and James would share the library and they'd always be bringing new stuff in from old bookstores or antique shops whatever so the Mustiness in that room would be Wack. They would have stupid fucking amounts of old trinkets or furniture. They would collect and collect and collect. But they wouldnt even be around very often they'd be going out to historical sites in mesoamerica or studying the Taíno. Or reading the graffiti in Pompeii or spending weeks taking notes on every exhibit in every historical museum in Beijing or interviewing Yoruba people across the diaspora about their spiritual/cultural history. They're very... Academic. I could see them funding studies or research into areas they're passionate about(James likes history/anthropology/science/military history and June likes biology/linguistics/neuropsychology(or neurochemistry)/genetics but they both have a lot of overlap in a lot of other subjects like they both go bananas for cultural analysis over time and paleobiology. James tries to learn about rail transport but it doesn't stick. BECAUSE THEY BOTH HATE PHYSICS AND MAAAATH)

In conclusion, you should not let me be a billionaire because I would be too good at it. Thank you for your time

[marginaletchings]

10 FANDOM GRIPES/ADVICE

Actually now that I’m on my fandom bullshit again here’s some general gripes I think any fandom can identify with:

1. Your headcanon/interpretation of canon is not canon. You will be much happier if you stop seeing everyone else in bad faith and being aggressive or passive-aggressive to people who don’t share your same interpretation/headcanon. Trust me, your drama levels will decrease if you put this into practice.

2. Just because you dislike something doesn’t mean it’s bad. Just because you like something doesn’t mean it’s good. This also goes for other people, too. Some people enjoy garbage and they know it’s garbage-- do NOT confuse them with the people who don’t understand something is garbage and are obnoxious about it. The former hate the latter too, believe me.

3. Loving something in spite of how poorly executed/written it is, is a thing. Loving something because of the potential it could’ve had is a thing. But you have to be willing to admit that your hope for a piece of media’s potential does not equate a good execution on the part of the creator(s). And once again, just because there’s some good substance there, does not mean it is above reproach or critique.

4. Critique/criticism are NOT BAD THINGS. I know it can be all too easy to take critique as “shit people have to say that’s always negative” and frankly, a lot, a LOT of “critique” is just unbalanced complaints levied in an aggressive, unfriendly manner. However! Actual media analysis is so, so much more than that. Taking apart a piece of media and figuring out how it works and why, both in-universe and out-of-universe and taking production factors into account, is FUN. Adding context to media is FUN. “Critic” is a dirty word these days, but frankly, I wish we could start turning that around. It feels like fandom is so fucking allergic to genuine civil discourse and critical thought these days and it doesn’t have to be that way. Listen: Learning about your favorite media and why it’s your favorite is actually super fun and great, and part of that is understanding its flaws as well as its highlights. When you really love a piece of media, you learn to love it, warts and all; and loving something despite its flaws (and in some cases because of them) is not an endorsement of those flaws, nor is it problematic behavior.

5. It’s okay to like antagonists/unhealthy character dynamics, HOWEVER, you need to understand WHY they are an antagonist, and WHY those dynamics are unhealthy. There is a difference between thinking Griffith from Berserk is a fascinating character study vs saying Griffith did nothing wrong and he’s your precious little meow meow. Frankly, it’s fucking obnoxious to see antag and/or villain stans go ham on things because they start romanticizing that character’s behavior, and then the antis come out, and then everything gets polarized. Like... y’all, there’s such a thing as not going to extremes, you know that, right? Can we not embrace a character, flaws and all, and understand why they suck and still like them anyway? Self-awareness is a GOOD THING.

6. Fucking touch some grass. No, really, I mean it. Get off your computer/phone. Go do something non-digital. Take deep breaths. Tell a loved one that you love them. Pet your dog, cat, lizard, or whatever other animal you have that can be petted. It will do you some good. The internet will be here when you get back. Twitter and Insta and Tumblr can fucking wait while you take some non-screen time to yourself.

7. Don’t go into tags to shout about how you hate X or Y ship/thing. Years ago I saw a post about how it’s like, going into the blueberry muffins aisle, and loudly complaining about blueberry muffins and how they suck. None of us fucking care what you have to say, we are here for blueberry muffins, and you are clearly here for drama and shit-stirring. Fucking stop. Being like UM, REBLOG IF YOU DON’T LIKE X!!! in the #x tag, is peak basic bitch behavior. You will be much happier and more chill if you learn to just let people like the things they like, I PROMISE you.

Also, people posting in general or gushing about a ship does not constitute as them pushing it on you. If you don’t want to see anything about a ship, block the tag and keywords, it’s that simple. 

Frankly, even if you’re outside a ship tag and you start talking about how a certain dynamic is clearly familial/platonic, apropos of ENTIRELY nothing, it makes you come off like a rainbow-ass clown with a passive aggressive bone to pick. Stop fucking vagueblogging. Shit or get off the pot or get over whatever weird hateboner you have and Move. On.

8. Let people write their nasty OOC toxic smutfic. As long as it has appropriate warnings and tags, and isn’t catering to nasty p*doshit (literal adults and literal children), then fucking let. It. Go. No one is being hurt by this. It is fictional. IT. IS. FICTIONAL. 

9. Let adults have their safe fandom spaces, and let minors have theirs. I know there’s going to be overlap, especially for groups that are in their late teens/early 20s. Overlap is okay, it’s fine, whatever. But for the love of God, PLEASE respect the boundaries of others-- if you are 18+, don’t go into spaces for minors. Vice versa, do not go into spaces that are 18+ if you are not 18+. 

10. Learn to curate your online experience. Stop leaving it up to the algorithms. Learn to block tags, accounts, keywords, etc. I myself have legitimate triggers from trauma and instead of demanding the world bend over backwards to never ever talk about content that might make me uncomfortable, I take the initiative and protect myself first. If I see something that got through that filter, I’m not going to scream and cry about it--it was not a moral failing on the part of the poster, even if they forgot to put up a tag. Shit like this happens and part of living with triggers and discomforts is learning to cope with them when we can’t remove them or ourselves. You will be far happier if you stop following blogs/accounts/hashtags that make you upset.

[handcat]

i am GOING to live in a secluded cabin with my beloved wife and our cats and i WILL make hand printed childrens books about SANILS AND FROG AND MUSHROOMS

[ivettel]

behind the curtain ep 4

bit late with this one but i wanted to finish laundry first so here we go.. notes on this bitch

right off the bat, yes! i did rotoscoping!

what! after avoiding it since 2017!! shoutout to jennifer @antoniosvivaldi for inspiring me to do that, btw. you should absolutely check out her stuff if you haven't already--her style is so unique and refreshing!

for the most part, i think they turned out swell--after effects behaved itself for once, which like, thank fuck, because i was on a call with fio @maranello and others at 1 in the morning like "haha! i totally know what i'm doing!" narrator voice they did NOT know what they were doing, they were making educated guesses based on past horrible experiences (hence avoiding rotoscoping for years 💀).

but this is meant to be educational lol so! what is rotoscoping? simply put, it's a tracing technique. it has its roots way back in animation when tech was starting to pick up in like the 1920s and artists wanted a more efficient way of animating. rotoscoping is one of those tools that've been used differently from how it was originally intended, which is actually? so cool from like, a media arts study perspective?? because it's commonplace to use it for live-action film and vfx work as a way to mask scenes out and isolate them in addition to its original use of mapping things to isolated scenes. i won't bore you with the stuart hall encoding/decoding stuff, but just know that i find the development of digital art circa adobe dominance fascinating. i am using this century-old animation technique to impose my blorbo upon the eyes of thousands.

ANYWAY. i really liked this particular mask--it has a lot of movement but still manages to flow nicely?

me: [cuts off luke's arm] fio: i think that's his arm me: oh... my god

next up: the lightsaber

goodness. where do i start. well first of all i had a vision of something much more 2d when it comes to lightsaber anatomy, lol. but i extended my subscription for maxon and figured--why not take full advantage of this while i've still got it? so i got this 3d model of luke's lightsaber. it's untextured and unrigged and clunky but thankfully it had most of the inner parts so as far as i'm concerned i struck GOLD.

idk what i can really say in terms of like What Is 3d Modelling, because i think people have an understanding of that. so we'll go instead thru my process!

i added materials and added a null object (does that count as rigging? for something as straightforward as this?) to do a simple rotation animation on the first day...

and then i had an idea before bed to separate the parts like that one scene in the clone wars where they show how a lightsaber is assembled, except i haven't watched the scene so god knows how they animated it NKJFGNDFKJGDF. anyway the day after, this was kinda where i got:

keyframing on c4d is a Bitch because u can't just Access The Graph Editor you have to go through the dope sheet and change ur views and it's just. annoying!! coming from an after effects standpoint! but i can see how it's optimized for Actual Animation work so ughgh. we deal. onwards..

asked the team over at usergif and natalie @kenobiis suggested putting in a kyber crystal to fill out the middle. i ended up taking the og "laser" cylinder and modifying/animating it because uh THIS is the real inside of a lightsaber and i am not putting all that into a 3 second gif LMAO. but yeah i fine-tuned the animation and plopped it in after effects, then fiddled with video copilot's saber to make luke's blade.

u might notice the motion blur--that's re:vision's RSMB! i also added a little bit of depth of field with frischluft, but it doesn't show up well in gif form. speaking of things that don't render well:

there is A FUCK TON of aliasing going on. i couldn't make any anti-aliasing settings work for some reason so i ended up trying to smooth it out in ae.. to probably not a lot of effect. i got the very edges around it smoothed out with the classic gaussian blur and a matte choker method, but the black rings are killer. ugh. it's whatever, i figure i'll work something better out for the next time.

finished animation in c4d + the final gif:

the rest

everything else is fairly basic and intuitive i think? obviously used shape layers + alpha mattes, my beloved. i fucked up a little on the text because i think i made my offset keyframes backwards somewhere in the middle of the process but at that point i was too lazy to go back in and fix it. oops!

anyway if u got this far hello thank u i hope this was informative in some way. if u have any questions don't be afraid to ask :D

[ming-yu-hao]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder | Chapter 2

Pairing: fratboy!mingyu x female reader, some wonwoo x reader

Word Count: 6k

Synopsis: When you transferred to a different university, you and Wonwoo promised that you would make long distance work. But distance proves to be more difficult than you both originally thought.

This Chapter’s Tags: cyber sex lol, angst, CHEATING, grinding, oral (female receiving and male receiving), fingering, mingyu is just sweet and it makes me sad, kinda fluff?

Warning: THIS SERIES IS ABOUT CHEATING. DO NOT READ IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!

A/N: i really self indulged on this one... man i just wanna fuck frat boy mingyu is that too much to ask... anyways PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF THIS CHAPTER I PUT A LOT MORE TIME INTO THIS ONE so feedback would be very appreciated <3

Chapters: Previous | Next | Masterlist

Sunlight peeked through your blinds the next morning, stirring you awake. You opened your eyes and snapped them shut again as the glare of the sun blinded you. Yawning, you reached for your phone and squinted at the pile of unread messages from Jisoo that had built up over the span of last night.

Jisoo: omg what u were here for like 2 seconds :(

Sent at 10:49 PM

Jisoo: i hope u feel better babe

Sent at 10:49 PM

Jisoo: wait

Sent at 10:50 PM

Jisoo: did something happen with wonwoo

Sent at 10:50 PM

Jisoo: i swear if he's mad at you for being a normal college student...

Sent at 10:50 PM

Jisoo: bitch answerrrrr :(

Sent at 10:53 PM

Jisoo: i'm staying the night somewhere i hope ur feeling okay <3 pls update me when u wake up

Sent at 12:06 AM

You laughed under your breath as you realized that it was 10 AM and Jisoo's side of the room still remained empty. From how last night was going, you could only assume that she was somewhere with Seungcheol. Classic Jisoo, you thought to yourself.

Just as you sat up in bed, your phone vibrated with another notification. You glanced down, expecting another text from Jisoo, but your eyes lit up as you saw Wonwoo's name on the screen instead.

Wonwoo: good morning :) do you wanna facetime?

Sent at 10:27 AM

Without replying, you quickly opened up your laptop and called Wonwoo. He answered after a few rings, his face filling the screen for the first time in a month.

"That was fast," He laughed. He must had just woken up because his voice always had a distinct rasp in the morning. His glasses also still rested on his nose and you could see his bare chest at the edge of the frame.

You smiled warmly. "I've missed you," you said, leaning closer to the camera.

"I missed you too," he gave you a toothless smile and ran a hand over his face. "I'm sorry I kept ditching you."

You shook your head. "No, it's okay. I understand."

You stared at him for a moment, neither of you speaking; you almost didn't know what to say. After all this time, you felt like you didn't know anything that was going on in his life anymore. It was tearing at you slowly. You were watching your own boyfriend become a stranger to you.

Luckily, Wonwoo broke the silence. "What are you doing?" He asked.

You shrugged. "I just woke up. I need to shower."

He raised his eyebrows at you suggestively and chuckled. "Oh?"

"Shut up," you rolled your eyes as you snickered. Wonwoo rested his arm behind his head and smirked at you.

"Can you blame me? I haven't been inside you in so long." He groaned. You felt your face burn at his bluntness. You looked down at your hands, and he must have noticed your embarrassment because he quickly asked, "Your roommate isn't there, right?"

"No," you replied, gazing back up at his face.

"Why're you so shy?" He grinned devilishly.

"I'm not," you protested. You began to toy with the bottom of the big tee shirt you were wearing.

Wonwoo sighed loudly. "I'm horny."

"I can tell." You replied with a chuckle. You slowly pulled the hem of your shirt up farther until your underwear could be seen. Wonwoo noticed this, biting his lip.

"Fuck," he breathed, "I miss your tight little pussy." Your skin heated up with each word he spoke. You watched as he removed his arm from behind his head; your mind instantly filled with images of him stroking himself. "Touch yourself for me." Wonwoo demanded.

Without a word, you leaned back against your pillows and slowly spread your legs for the camera. The wetness between your thighs was so intense at this point that your underwear was clinging to your folds.

Wonwoo let out a deep groan as he touched himself off camera. Your skin flushed even further as you watched his face contort in pleasure. "Take off your shirt," he muttered.

You obeyed, pulling the fabric over your head and leaving yourself mostly exposed. Your breasts bounced in view of the camera as you leaned forward and pulled your underwear down your legs. Wonwoo moaned, his head leaning back and exposing the veins in his neck. "Fuck, you're gonna make me cum already."

You giggled and leaned back against the pillows again, this time exposing your nude body to him. You dragged your hand down to your heat and began to run your fingers through your folds. You let out a whine at the long-awaited contact. Your other hand squeezed at your breast, stimulating your sensitive nipples.

"Shit," Wonwoo hissed, "If I was there I'd be fucking you so hard. Making you moan my name for everyone to hear." You felt yourself clench at his filthy words. You bit your lip and rubbed your clit in circles.

"Mmh, shit." You moaned. "I miss you so much. Miss feeling your cock inside me." You heard Wonwoo's breathing grow heavier on his end of the line. You could tell he was going to cum soon. You pushed two fingers inside you, desperate to release.

Curling and scissoring your fingers deep inside you, intense pleasure began to take over your body. You threw your head back and whined loudly as you felt your orgasm approach. "Wonwoo," you moaned.

Wonwoo let out a choked moan at the sound of you moaning his name. "Fu- I'm cumming," he stuttered as he finally released.

You continued to pump your fingers inside of you while Wonwoo started to slow his breathing again. "Cum, baby," he said. You brought your other hand down to your clit and rubbed it in figure eights. Your legs twitched with pleasure, your walls clenching and pulsing around your fingers.

You cried out as your orgasm finally washed over you, your head falling back against the pillows behind you. You kept your eyes closed for a few seconds as you basked in the pleasure. Your heavy breathing began to calm.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Wonwoo wiping his hand with a tissue. He glanced at you and smiled. "Now that," he whistled as he laid back down against his mattress, "was unbelievably hot."

Your cheeks burned and you reached for your shirt to pull back over your head. "We should do that more often," he said.

You laughed. "Maybe."

Wonwoo sat up after a moment. "What time is it?" He asked.

You glanced at the clock. "Almost 11."

He groaned in frustration. "Fuck, I have to go. I have a group study soon."

"Oh," you replied.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly as he rose out of bed. "I'll call you Saturday, okay? I love you." You nodded silently.

"I love you too," you said right as he ended the call.

And then you were left alone, with sweat sticking to your skin and your soaked underwear balled up next to you. You shut your laptop and sat in silence for a few moments, staring out the window as you felt disappointment settle over you.

That was the first time you had seen his face in a month. Hell, that was the first full conversation you two had shared in so long. And it was over as quickly as it had begun.

Anxiety coursed through your veins. Was that all you had become to your boyfriend now? Just a number that he could call when he wanted to get off? Were you no longer someone he confided in?

You shook yourself out of your worried thoughts. Finally, you stood and walked over to the bathroom, your legs still a little weak beneath you, and turned the shower water on.

You stared at yourself in the mirror while you waited for the water to heat up. Your mind flashed with images of last night—of Mingyu staring down at you, his lips nearly brushing against yours, and the sound of you moaning his name.

You had told yourself that it had only affected you because you missed Wonwoo. Then how were you still left feeling unsatisfied after what just happened between you two?

Things were not the same as they once were, you noted as you stepped under the stream of hot water.

When you walked into your digital media class on Tuesday morning, you were hyperaware of each little movement you made. You kept your gaze fixated on the ground and carefully trotted up the stairs until you reached the row you always sat in. Glancing up, you saw Mingyu through the corner of your eye, his attention captured by his phone.

The sound of you setting your bag down was enough to pull him away from his device and look over at you. You sat down and stared forward, refusing to make eye contact with him. Your face started to burn in embarrassment; you didn’t know how you were going to make it through this class.

“Hey, I’m sorry about Saturday,” he paused, “I was drinking and I didn’t know what I was doing.” He said, breaking the silence. You forced yourself to finally look at him. He was back in his usual state: clean, pushed back hair and muscles concealed by his hoodie. You could see genuine remorse in the shine of his eyes and in the slight pout of his lip.

You shook your head. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.” You reassured him. His troubled expression seemed to lighten up a bit at your words. He gave you a small smile and nodded his head.

“Good. Otherwise this class would’ve been a lot more awkward.” He chuckled and returned his attention to his phone.

You observed him for a minute, noticing the way he chewed on his bottom lip in concentration. Your body flushed again as you thought about his lips: how close they were to yours, the words they whispered to you, how you imagined they would feel against you skin. You tore your gaze away from Mingyu, your heart beating a little faster than before.

You needed to get a grip. There was no way you were going to make it through the rest of this semester if you spent every class getting flustered while reminiscing your half-asleep-wet-dream-fantasy of Mingyu.

Sighing and choosing to ignore the pressing thoughts in the back of your mind, you pulled out your laptop and buried yourself in your notes until the professor strolled into the room and began the lecture.

You managed to successfully ignore Mingyu’s presence for most of the class, despite him sitting only a few feet to your side. You were only reminded of his existence again when your professor announced: “We will be working on a project for the next week. Everybody needs a partner.”

You and Mingyu glanced at each other, as the two of you normally collaborated on assignments in class. He nodded and gave you a thumbs up before you returned your attention to the professor.

“You will write two articles on events or people in the community. For the first, one of you will write and the other will be responsible for photography. For the second, you switch.” He explained briefly.

The lecture came to an end a few minutes later, and the room instantly started buzzing with conversation as students stood up and scrambled to find partners. You turned to Mingyu and gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“I guess I should get your number so we can talk about the project?” Mingyu suggested, pulling out his phone.

“Uh... yeah, okay,” You replied awkwardly as you typed your number into his phone. You cursed yourself internally for letting this happen. This class used to be fun: you and Mingyu casually talked and exchanged answers and cracked jokes with each other and that was that. You didn’t know much about his life, and you didn’t need to. Hell, you didn’t even know he was part of a fraternity. But now that was all ruined. You couldn’t even look at him without feeling small and awkward. And all of this was to blame on some cheap alcohol and your stupid hormones.

You pulled yourself out of your thoughts as you handed Mingyu’s phone back to him. “So, do you have any ideas?” You prompted.

Mingyu’s face contorted as he thought for a moment. “Um, my frat’s doing some charity event this week,” he said. When you didn’t respond for a moment, he panicked and added, “I don’t know if it’s a good idea. We can just-“

“It’s perfect.” You cut him off, snickering at his uncertainty. “Since you know more about it, you can write that one, and I can come and take pictures.” Relief flooded his features and he let out a breath. “When is it?” You asked.

“Thursday.”

“I’ll see you there, then,” you smiled.

The next day passed quickly and before you knew it, the evening of the fundraiser had arrived. You and Mingyu had texted casually the past couple of days; he just gave you details on the fundraiser and tried to come up with an article idea for you.

You strolled through campus on that Thursday afternoon, wrapping your denim jacket around your torso a little tighter as a chilled breeze blew through the air. The brisk atmosphere of late autumn was finally starting to settle in. You quickened your pace, wanting to reach the university quad before you froze.

As you neared the quad, you could hear distant chatter and laughter. You rounded the corner and took in the view of the surprisingly large crowd that gathered near the booth the SVT frat had set up. They were having a raffle for a voucher for free textbooks. Whoever came up with the idea was genius; you couldn’t think of a better way to get broke college students to participate in something.

You walked up to the booth, camera bag in hand, and immediately recognized the boy sitting behind it. It was Seokmin. His eyes lit up as he saw your familiar face. “Hey! Y/N, right?” He greeted you. You told him yes and smiled before greeting him back.

“Do you know where Mingyu is?” You asked, scanning over your shoulder for the tall boy.

Seokmin squinted as he stood up and looked around the quad. “Uh, he was somewhere around here earlier.” He rolled his eyes and chuckled. “He’s probably off being an idiot.” You laughed and fiddled with the camera in your hands.

Just as you were about to ask if you could take a picture, someone shook your shoulders from behind. “Y/N! What are you doing here?” Jisoo bounced in front of you, Seungcheol by her side.

“Jisoo? I didn’t realize you were a member of the frat now?” You joked before holding up the camera. “I have to take pictures for a class project.” You explained.

Seungcheol wrapped his arm around Jisoo’s waist and said, “You can take a picture of us.” She agreed excitedly, already posing and smiling before you even pulled out the camera.

You stepped back and looked through the lens, making sure that the booth was visible in the background. “Okay, say cheese!” You said as you snapped the picture.

A pair of hands then poked you in your sides, causing you to yelp loudly and nearly drop the camera. You whipped your head around and saw Mingyu’s taunting face smirking down at you. “Hey, Y/N.”

“God, you scared me! You’re lucky I didn’t drop the camera.” You cried, playfully smacking him in the arm.

Mingyu held his hands up next to his face in defense. “Woah, sorry. My bad.” He chuckled. Jisoo and Seungcheol approached you two, butting in on your conversation.

“You know Mingyu?” Seungcheol asked, glancing between you two and raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, we’re partners for a project.” Mingyu explained briefly while checking over his shoulder. He turned to you. “Let’s go take these pictures fast, yeah? It’s kinda cold.” Before you could even respond, he linked his arm with yours and walked you away from the booth and into the small crowd of students.

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up at him. “We got out of there fast.” You noted.

Mingyu sighed. “Yeah, sorry. Cheol’s just weird about certain stuff.”

You were even more confused now. “What do you mean?”

“He just like- he tries to set me up with people all the time and I don’t want him the get the wrong idea of us.” He dismissed quickly before saying: “Why don’t you get some pictures of the people standing around here? Just take a few. We don’t need that many.”

“Oh... okay.” You responded hesitantly. You lifted the camera up again and snapped a couple more pictures of students conversing and walking up to the booth to buy raffle tickets. Mingyu stood next to you with his arms crossed over his chest, impatiently tapping his foot. He flashed you a relieved smile when you turned to him.

“All done?”

“We should be.” You replied while placing the camera back in the bag.

“Okay, we can go back to the house and work on the article together,” he said, “there’s gonna be some people from here hanging around there later but they shouldn’t be too loud.”

You agreed and began walking with him towards the SVT frat house. The sun was beginning to set now, and the air nipped at your exposed skin as the temperature continued to drop. You stared down at your shoes while you walked, your mind still fixating on Mingyu’s strange behavior.

Finally, you mustered up the courage to ask: “Are you okay?”

Mingyu’s eyes met with yours. Confusion overtook his features in response to your question. “Yeah?” He chuckled.

“Sorry,” you spoke, “you were just acting weird earlier.”

Mingyu sighed and stared ahead silently for a moment. “I don’t know,” he started, “I guess I just still feel bad about last weekend.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you revisited the memory once again.

“Sorry for bringing it up again. I know we should probably just move on already cause it wasn’t that big of a deal. I just... feel like I overstepped. So... I’m sorry.” He rambled.

You looked up at him again. “You don’t have to feel bad. I’m not mad at you.” You exhaled. “But you’re right... we should just move on.”

Mingyu gave you a small nod before changing the subject. “Did you figure out an article idea yet?”

You shook your head. “No, but it’ll be fine. There’s so much that goes on around campus.”

Your conversation slowly died out, but thankfully you arrived at the SVT frat shortly after. Mingyu opened the front door and allowed you to step through before walking in behind you and shutting it. The house was warm; you shivered as your skin adjusted to the change in temperature. You slipped your shoes off and stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to guide you through the house.

Mingyu led you to the dining room, crying out as he rounded the corner. “Seriously, Seungkwan?” He huffed.

A boy sat at the head of the table, textbooks sprawled across the surface. A few other people sat at the table with notebooks and laptops in front of them, watching Mingyu with confused expressions on their faces.

The boy—Seungkwan—stood up from his chair with his jaw dropped. “What do you mean ‘seriously, Seungkwan’?” He mocked Mingyu’s deep voice. “You know I have group study every Thursday!” He cried.

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He responded.

Seungkwan sat back down and calmly resumed his studies as if nothing had happened. You assumed that this must be typical behavior between the two. Staring at Mingyu with wide eyes, he turned to you.

“Is it fine if we go work on it in my room?” He asked, his voice lowered.

You felt blood rush through your ears. You swallowed. “Yeah,” you exhaled.

Mingyu led you up the stairs and down the hall. When he opened the door to his room, you were surprised by how clean it was. Everything was organized neatly and the room smelled fresh.

You heard the door click shut behind you, and your heart started beating faster.

“We can just sit on the floor,” Mingyu spoke. His deep voice startled you a bit. You walked further into the room and sat down with your legs crossed, resting your back against his bed frame as you set the camera down next to you. Mingyu sat down, his knee only a few inches away from yours.

Reaching behind his head for the laptop sitting on his bed, he pulled it into his lap and opened up the article.

“I’m not completely done yet.” He smiled sheepishly while rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s fine. You’re farther than I am.” You reassured him while you took the camera out of the bag again.

He laughed, “That’s true.” You placed the camera in his hands. “Alright, let me just get these pictures pulled up on here.”

You nodded and looked down as you played with your hands. You began to wonder what Wonwoo would think if he knew that you were in some other guy’s room right now.

You frowned and pulled your phone out of your pocket. You opened up your messages and went to send a text to Wonwoo when you realized that the message you had sent him last night was still unread. A dark, heavy feeling settled over your chest. Why did he act as if you didn’t exist anymore? Why would he suggest doing long distance when he couldn’t even commit to it?

You shut your phone off and set it on the floor next to you, staring forward. You exhaled, trying to stop the tightness growing in your throat.

Mingyu was leaned over his computer, his lips pursed in concentration. The definition of his triceps was visible through his sweatshirt. “These pictures actually didn’t turn out too horrible.” He said after a few moments of silence.

You laughed and playfully hit his shoulder. “Shut up.”

He brought his gaze to meet yours, a teasing smile on his lips. “No, they’re actually good.”

“Thanks,” you squeaked, the intensity of his gaze making you nervous. You felt blood rush through your veins. You broke eye contact, glancing down at his nose, and then at his lips that were parted slightly. You quickly looked up to his eyes again, but now they held a knowing look in them. He knew exactly what thoughts were going through your mind.

You inched closer to him, your breath getting caught in your throat as you noticed him bringing his face closer to yours. Your heart raced as you fluttered your eyes shut. His lips brushed against yours and you leaned closer, but then you felt him pull away.

“Do you really have a boyfriend?” He asked.

You sighed, opening your eyes slowly and looking into his concerned ones again. You pressed your lips into a line and looked down shamefully.

“I do,” you admitted. That tight feeling in your throat began to come back. Mingyu was silent. “I’m sorry.”

As you spoke your voice cracked and tears began to spill from your eyes. You felt Mingyu’s warm, soft skin caress your cheeks, holding your face in his hands. You looked up at him with teary eyes.

“Hey. Shhh, don’t cry.” He whispered. His brows were furrowed in concern as he ran his thumb over your cheek. “You can talk to me about it. I’ll listen.”

God, how you hated that he knew exactly what to do and what to say. You hated that he was giving you everything you had craved the past two months without even realizing it. You hated how he made it so easy to confide in him when you had a boyfriend that was supposed to be there for you instead—a boyfriend that was becoming a stranger to you.

You closed your eyes, causing more tears to fall down your face. “I’m sorry,” you said again, your voice a broken whisper.

You inhaled a shaky breath. “We’re long distance. But he barely talks to me anymore.” You explained. You brought your hand up to hold the wrist that was still caressing your face. “I just feel so alone. It feels like he’s given up on me.”

Mingyu was silent. The only audible sound in the room was your uneven breathing.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, “you deserve better than that.”

You felt your heart flutter in your chest at his sweet words.

“What do you want?” He questioned.

You opened your eyes. You were no longer crying, but your face was still wet with tears. Mingyu was staring at you with that same concerned look: eyebrows furrowed, eyes wide and conflicted, lips slightly parted.

“I just want someone to care.” You muttered.

He brought his face closer to yours again. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and his eyes were half shut as he whispered: “I can take care of you.”

Your breath hitched.

“Do you want that?” He asked.

“Yes.”

Mingyu finally brought his lips to yours, kissing you hard and passionately. He left slow, open-mouthed kisses against your lips. The hand on your face gently squeezed, puckering out your lips as he continued to kiss them.

You brought your hands up to his hair, running your fingers through his soft locks as he pulled you into his lap. Your hips rested on top of his, straddling him, and you felt his tongue dart out against your lips. You parted your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth and deepen the kiss.

You ground your core into his lap, feeling his length begin to harden beneath the fabric of his jeans. He groaned into your mouth as you continued to move your hips back and forth.

This is all that you had wanted: someone to care for you, to touch you, to pay attention to you and make you feel wanted.

Mingyu brought both of his hands down to your hips, pushing you down against him as he lifted his hips up towards you. “Let me make you feel good,” he muttered against your lips.

You exhaled shakily, feeling the growing wetness between your legs. “Okay,” you whispered.

He placed his hands on your ass, roughly squeezing the soft flesh between his hands. You circled your hips again, letting out a quiet moan as his hard cock brushed against your clothed clit.

He pulled his lips away from yours. “Stand up,” he said quickly. You obeyed, peeled yourself off of him, and stood expectantly as he stood up from the floor himself. You could see the outline of his cock in his jeans as he rose. He towered over you now, making you feel small beneath him. He pushed your jacket off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and his fingers played with the hem of your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” He whispered into your ear. You nodded silently and he pressed a soft kiss beneath your ear. He lifted the fabric up, pulling it over your head and exposing your body to him. His hands brushed against your waist, making goosebumps form on your skin. “Lay down,” he demanded.

You sat down at the edge of his mattress and laid on your back, bunching your legs up at the edge of the bed. He leaned over your body, caging you in by resting both of his forearms on either side of you, and placed another kiss to your lips. Just as he began to kiss down to your neck, he pressed his hardness against your center. You let out a whimper at the contact.

He nibbled and sucked at the soft skin of your neck, causing your entire body to tingle. You leaned your head back, exposing more of your neck to him, and your eyes rolled back into your head at the pleasure.

“Mingyu,” you whimpered. He pressed his clothed length against you again.

“Fuck,” he hissed. He placed more open-mouthed kisses against your neck as he ran one of his hands down your stomach. He brought his hand up again and squeezed your breast through your bra.

He pulled away from your neck, looking down hungrily at your chest. You noticed this and complied to his wishes by arching your back against the bed. He brought his hands behind you, unhooking your bra before pulling it off of you slowly. He exhaled as he stared at your bare chest.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. You felt heat rush to your face at the compliment. Before you could say anything, he brought his mouth down to your breast, sucking and flicking his tongue against your hardened nipple. You gasped. At this point you were so turned on you were sure that your arousal had already soaked through your leggings. He squeezed your other breast with his hand, and you arched your back again as you moaned.

Mingyu pushed himself up, staring into your eyes with his lust-filled ones. He kept eye contact with you as he pulled away, nearing your core. His fingers slipped under the waistband of your leggings. He looked to you for approval, and you nodded your head rapidly.

He tugged your pants down quickly and slid them off your legs, leaving you in only your underwear. He could see the wet spot on the fabric; he brought his fingers to the cloth and pressed it against your clit. Your legs twitched and you gasped quietly.

Mingyu chuckled. “Shit, you’re so fucking wet for me.” He licked his lips, and you could see the pride in his gaze as he slipped his fingers beneath your underwear and pulled them down your legs.

He brought his face close to your center, smirking before finally bringing his tongue to you and licking a strip up to your clit.

You let out a choked moan and your legs shut naturally, but Mingyu placed both of his hands on your knees and spread you open for him again. He placed a soft kiss on your clit before sucking on it harshly. Your hips jerked up and you cried out.

He looked up at your from between your thighs, an alarmed look on his face. “You have to be quiet, baby. There’s people downstairs.” He went back to sucking on your clit right after.

You pressed your lips together, trying to contain your moans, and they came out as heavy pants and muffled whimpers instead.

Mingyu brought his fingers to your core, teasing your entrance. He flicked his tongue against your clit as he pushed a finger into you and curled it deep inside you. You arched your back and cried out, “Fuck!”

As the pleasure continued to grow, you brought your hands down to his hair again, tugging each time he pumped and curled his finger in you. He moaned against your core, the vibrations making your eyes roll back into your head.

He pushed in another finger, scissoring them deep inside you. You could hear the filthy sounds of his fingers pumping into your wetness.

“M-Mingyu,” you moaned. “I’m gonna cum.”

He smirked against your core before resuming his ministrations of his tongue against your clit. He pumped his fingers into you faster and curled them with each thrust.

The pressure in your lower stomach was growing fast. Your legs began to shake as the pleasure built, and when Mingyu pushed his fingers deep into your core, you felt the knot snap.

You threw your head back as intense pleasure washed over your entire body. Your legs convulsed and you couldn’t hold back a particularly loud moan. Mingyu continued to pump his fingers into you slowly as you rode out your orgasm.

When the pleasure subsided, he pulled his fingers out of you, keeping eye contact with you as he placed them in his mouth and sucked them clean. The sight was so dirty that you whimpered softly. He leaned over you again, kissing you one last time, allowing you to taste yourself.

He rolled over, laying next to you on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. “How was that?” He asked.

“Good,” you breathed, “really fucking good.”

He chuckled under his breath. “I’m glad I could help.”

You sat up, glancing at the obvious boner that still strained against his jeans. “What about you?” You prompted.

“I’m fine. It’ll go away.” He dismissed, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Just lay down with me.”

You bit your lip, thinking for a moment before palming him through his jeans. “But I wanna make you feel good. It’s only fair.”

He hissed at the contact, his hips jerking up a bit. “Shit,” he muttered, removing his arm and placing it behind his head.

He watched you with half-lidded eyes as you fumbled with the button of his pants. You pulled them down, reaching your hand into his boxers and pulling out his cock. It was big. Really big. You were honestly worried if you were going to be able to fit it in your mouth. You stared at it for a moment, wide-eyed.

Mingyu looked down at you and giggled. “Well? Do something.”

You pumped your hand up his shaft, swiping over the tip and collecting the pre-cum that was leaking out. You pumped him a few times before situating yourself between his legs and bringing your lips down to his tip.

You rubbed your lips against his leaking head of his cock before pressing a soft kiss to it. Finally, you wrapped your mouth around him and sucked on the head. He groaned and lightly jerked his hips up, forcing more of his cock into your mouth. You glanced up at him while you continued to suck, pushing more of him into your mouth.

He stared back at you with his mouth hung open. “Fuck. ‘M so hard.” He moaned before leaning his head back against the mattress. “I’m not gonna last long.”

You swirled your tongue around him while he was in your mouth. Then you pushed your head down further, taking him deep into your throat. You struggled to inhale through your nose, almost choking on his dick.

You pulled yourself off him, catching your breath, and continued to pump his length. You brought your head back and sucked him into your mouth, using your hand to stroke whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

Mingyu was panting and jerking his hips up each time you swirled your tongue around his tip. You looked up and saw his head thrown back, the veins in his neck prominent as he clenched his teeth. He hit the back of your throat and you moaned against him, the vibrations causing him to gasp.

“Fuck! Fuck, I’m cumming.” He cried. You kept him in your mouth as the strings of hot liquid met your tongue.

You kept sucking on his length until you swallowed around him. You pulled yourself off his cock with a pop and stuck out your tongue to show him that you swallowed everything.

He pushed his softening cock back into his boxers and motioned for you to come up next to him. “Let’s lay down.”

You laid down on his chest and he pulled a blanket up to cover your nude body. You closed your eyes and listened to the softness of his breathing and the faint beat of his heart beneath his ribs.

“Shouldn’t we work on the project?” You asked after a few moments.

“No, it’s fine. Let’s just rest for a minute.” He said, running a hand gently down your back. You leaned into his soft touch.

The two of you laid in a comfortable silence, just basking in the calmness and in each other’s warm presence.

“Mingyu?” You broke the silence, looking up at him.

“Hm?” He hummed, meeting your eyes.

“Thank you.”

[purplesurveys]

816

Gonna do a before and after of one of the first surveys I took when I was FOURTEEN. Fucking wild that I’ve been doing this for nearly a decade. Kinda my way of celebrating the fact that I’ve just been reunited with my old blog, which Tumblr has apparently changed the URL of. Baffled by the move but still stoked, and @a-zebra-is-a-striped-horse​ is absolutely the coolest person for being able to find it haha. Let’s gooooo 1. Are you registered to vote? No. I still have 3 years to go. < That’s so precious. I’ve been a voter for four years now. I registered the second I turned 18 and I remember being very excited to make it to the presidential elections because only a handful of people from my high school batch were 18 by the time of the elections. 2. When days go by, do you cross them off on the calendar? Only when I’m counting down for something. < This still sounds like something I would do, but I don’t really get to anymore because I have digital calendars on my phone and laptop now. 3. Are you currently counting down to something? If so, what? Summer vacation! 4 days left! < Again, so cute. There’s no countdown that exists because I honestly don’t know when it will be okay enough to go out like normal again, but I am waiting for Covid to go away or at least for a vaccine to be available.

No #4? 5. Ever got injured at work? What happened? Nope. < I sprained my ankle at one of the parking lots in school, while walking to my car. Worst thing was it happened in front of an ongoing rally, and I heard their chants slightly falter when they saw me fall. I tried to play it cool, but my foot clearly felt fucked and someone had to hold my arm as I hopped to my car.

6. What color is your roof? Brown. < Stop pretending like you have a roof, Robyn. The house has always had a rooftop.

7. Do you use MySpace or Facebook more? Neither. < I was still far too young when MySpace peaked so I never did get to participate in its glory days. I definitely use Facebook a lot more, then and now. 8. Last time you sharpened a pencil? When I took a diagnostic test last Monday. < Sometime in 2019 when I was still heavily into coloring and I bought several coloring books and a pack of coloring pencils. I loved coloring and wish I kept it up, but it was just a bit of a hassle for me to sharpen every ten minutes or so. 9. List all the people in your phone under T: Zero, zilch, nada. No phone. < A high school batchmade named Dani, a college colleague named Kate, and a couple of aunts and uncles whose contacts start with Tito and Tita.  10. How old were you when you got into text messaging? I once had a super obsessive text problem when I was 11, I think? < That would be the first time I got hooked with texting, but I got my first phone when I was 7 and was already texting by then. Mostly my parents and grandpa, but still. 11. Do you pay rent to your parents? No. < No. They’ve already told me they won’t pressure me to do so either, but out of gratefulness for taking care of me for 20+ years I have absolutely no problems covering some of the bills when the time comes. 12. What do you think of Obama’s new healthcare bill? I don’t know a lot about it. < Honestly, still same. That’s another country’s politics altogether and we have enough issues in our own nation as it is. I do pay attention to US issues that are more universal like LGBT issues, police brutality against black people, Trump as a person...but not the more in-depth ones like healthcare or student debt. 13. How many icons are on your desktop? 34. < Exactly half of that. 14. Do you spit or swallow? Get outta here!!! < Still can’t relate. 15. Ever wrote something on a bathroom wall? Nope. < Eugh no, public bathrooms are so nasty. I don’t usually touch anything in them other than the faucet. I’ve written on other things though, like the desks in school. 16. What’s your definition of a slut? Uh. < Someone who often has casual sex with a lot of people, is how I understand it. 17. If you use the word “slut”, do you apply it to men who do the same thing as what you listed above? Nah. < I don’t really use the word. 18. Do you dye eggs for Easter? I did once, in a children’s party. < Yeah, just that one time at my second cousins’ place when they were in the mood to paint on eggs and invited me and my siblings. 19. What did you do on the first day of spring? Never experienced spring. < We don’t have spring. 23. Are you currently crushing on anyone? No. < Yes. 24. What color hair did the last person you kissed have? NKSB. < LOOOOOOOOOL I spent like two minutes puzzling over this like who tf is NKSB??? Eventually realized this just meant ‘Never Kissed Since Birth’ oh my god 14 year old Robyn you were SO uncool. Anyway, her hair is black. 25. Do you stand up to say the pledge in school? We don’t have a school pledge, but we do recite our country’s pledge and yes, we stand up every time we say it. < Not anymore in university. Everyone just kinda does their own thing in college and we’re never gathered as one student body for anything, except for graduation. 26. Do you like your eye color? God no. It’s so boring. < I mean yeah it is a bit boring, but we kinda have no choice. Unless you go to West Asia which is nearing Europe as it is, nearly all Asians have brown eyes and black hair. 27. What brand of orange juice did you last drink? Zesto. < That’s the only brand of orange juice I’m okay with drinking, even eight years later. 28. Pens or pencils? Pens. < Still feel the same. 29. Last skirt you wore and why? My school skirt, because I have to go to school. < Omfg again, this is so precious. The last one I wore was my denim skirt, but it’s also been a while since I wore that because one of its buttons has since popped out and I never got around to having it fixed, leaving me with no skirts. 30. Last time you wore heels, what kind were they? A prom I went to. I actually have no idea what kind of heels they are so I’m just gonna say old-women heels. < They were stilettos, you dumbass. I also wore a pair of stilettos the last time I wore heels. They’re my favorite kind, so. 31. Shoes you wear the most? My Keds. < My pair of Onitsuka Tiger sneakers. . 32. Favorite quote at the moment? “YOU DUMB BITCH! I’M NOT HOLDING A MICROPHONE! ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?” - CM Punk < Holy crap, I do not remember this quote at all and had to look it up on YouTube and – no regrets. Watching it made so many memories come rushing back lmao that clip is hilarious; Punk is the greatest. Right now I don’t really have a favorite quote. 33. What was the last magazine article you read about? I forgot. < It’s from the website version of the magazine, but the last article I read covered a viral Facebook post wherein someone had photoshopped the faces of The Big Bang Theory boys onto the traditional graduation photos of my university out of boredom. Article is here for anyone who wants to see how well the pictures turned out lol. 34. What do you think about communism? I don’t know enough about it. < I completely support the progressive youth orgs, especially the ones in my university, that are aligned with communist, socialist, and Marxist ideals. They speak the truth more than any other orgs, so I don’t shy away from defending them or promoting their ideals, especially on social media, even if it puts me in danger. 35. Are you planning on going to college? If so, which one? Of course. I want to study in Ateneo. < CAN WE CANCEL 14 YEAR OLD ROBYN?????? What a disappointment omg. You were always meant to be in UP, you weirdo. 22 year old me takes that appalling statement back lol I can’t even begin to imagine spending my college years in Ateneo. 36. What’s your favorite flower? Ugh I hate flowers. < Peonies and roses. 37. What’s the nearest beach? I think it’s like…600 km away + a 2 hour boat ride. < No it is not. There’s a beach I come back to in Nasugbu and that’s only 100 km away. 38. Ever been to Florida? Nope. < Still nope. 39. How old is your brother’s best friend? He’s probably 9 as my brother’s 9. < I don’t know if he has one and I don’t really care anymore. 40. What type of car did you ride in last? A Kia van. < Sksksksks this was referring to the school bus I used to ride omg :( I was last in our Vitara, when I had to go to the hospital to get some tests done back when I still had a pesky fever. 42. Are you excited for summer 2013? Fuck yeah. < I honestly don’t remember how it ultimately went, but apparently I was excited for it so that answers the question. 43. What class were your parents (ex. class of ‘75)? They’re the same age so batch ‘89. < There we go. 44. Are you in debt right now? For what? No. < Kinda-ish? I promised my sister I’d pay her for helping me out with iMovie (I wanted to make Gab a video for her birthday, but had never done it before), but I haven’t had the chance to do it since I only have big bills at the moment. She’s asking for ₱200 but I only have ₱1000s in my wallet, so I can’t pay her for now. 45. If you’re old enough, do you have a credit card? If you’re not old enough, do you want one when you’re older? I definitely want one. < Yep, still want one. Though I’ll need a crash course on how to use it because my parents never really taught me how cards work. 46. What color is your phone? No phone. < Apple calls it space gray but it’s really just black. 47. Have you ever had someone read a text message they weren’t supposed to see? Yes. < Yes. That person was me, and I accidentally read a text from my dad meant for only my mom when I was 5 because I had stubborn fingers that would click on anything. 48. What’s the minimum age you think someone should have a cell phone at? 10. < Holy cow, that’s a nope for me. I’d say 12 or 13. 49. Would you ever work night crew? Sure. < Yes. I’ve seen my girlfriend’s mom do it and honestly I find it pretty badass, especially because while everyone is stuck in traffic trying to get to work by 9 AM, she’s cruising down the highway on the opposite lane with no problem, to be home by 9 hahaha. 50. How old is the last person you texted? 41. < 22.

[hiiggsmonaghan]

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Are you fuckin’ kidding me--?

Alright, I’ll answer them ALL. 

1. Name: Higgs Monaghan Silver/Silvio

2. Nationality: Canadian/Acadian

3. Age: 22

4. Birthday: July 19th 

5. Zodiac sign (or your primal zodiac sign): Cancer

6. Gender: cis male

7. Sexuality: Gay

8. Your looks (add a picture or describe yourself):  This will have to wait until a special reveal. (Future cosplay things.)

9. What do you/did you study?: ... Does Egyptian history count?

10. What's your current job like?/What job would you like to have?: [Nervous laughter] I have no idea what I’d like to do for a job. 

-

11. Your birth order: First child

12. How many siblings do you have?: 1 “real” sibling, but so many siblings by bond.

13. Do you have good relations with your family?: Biological family? Absolutely not. Except for two of my cousins. They are cool.

14. How many friends do you have?: Too many that it’s obnoxious. [Just kidding, I appreciate you all.]

15. Your relationship status: Taken/Engaged

16. What do you look for in a SO?: Someone who can kick my ass. [Who can handle my anger outbursts]

17. Do you have a crush?: No. 

18. When did you have your first kiss?: When I was 14. It was forced and was a terrible experience. 

19. Do you prefer serious and meaningful relationships or casual dating/one night stands?: Meaningful ones, funny enough.

20. What are your deal breakers?: Overly clingy, too loud, not respectful of my music choices

-

21. How was your day?: Cold. Snowstorm happened today.

22. Favourite food & drink: Pizzas/cheeseburgers || Strawberry slushie with tapioca pearls/orange juice

23. What position do you sleep in?: Fetal position. [Hahahah... ha.]

24. What was your last dream about?: Cannot remember.

25. Your fears: The ocean [drowning], deep forests.. uhh... There are others but I cannot think of it at the moment

26. Your dreams: To be on my goddamn motorcycle, livin’ a good life without my mental illness in the way.

27. Your goals: See above.

28. Any pets?: Not yet! Planin’ to get a black cat soon!

29. What are your hobbies?: Music and readin’

30. Any cool places in your area?: Pfft, no. It’s so fuckin’ boring here.

31. What was your last awkward situation?: I was at Tim Horton’s and there was a baby cryin’ behind me so I looked over at it and played... peek-a-boo with them. It was...weird. But at least the baby shut up. The mother didn’t do shit to make the baby stop cryin’ so.. Great Parenting.

32. What is your last regret?: Well too many to really talk about but I’ll go with the funny route and my last regret was not goin’ to Burger King yesterday and eatin’ salad instead of a burger. 

33. Language/s you can speak: English

34. Do you believe in astrological stuff? (Zodiac, tarot, etc.): Not really. It’s all just whatever for me.

35. Have any quirks?: I bite my nails often... I pretend to conduct music while it is playing... uh...???

36. Your pet peeves: Everything.

37. Ideal vacation: Anywhere away from North America.

38. Any scars?: Many. 

39. What does your last text message say?: “Nah”

40. Last 5 things from your search history: Twitter, Vargskelethor’s twitch, Cloud Strife, YouTube, FF7 remake release date

41. What's your [device] background?: RK900 from Detroit Become Human

42. What do you daydream about?: Usually having super strength and throwing people whom bother me across the world or just... punchin’ them. 

43. Describe your dream home: A  simple house, really. Nothin’ too fancy. Just the idea of havin’ my own house? Even if it isn’t that big or anythin’... That is a dream for me. Oh, and I want it painted black. Hah.

44. What's your religion/Your thought about religion: I’d say I’m atheist but... I do believe in God. I AM God. :)

45. Your personality type:  ISTP-T

46. The most dangerous thing you've done: [Looks at the list of dangerous things I have done] ... There are too many

47. Are you happy with your current life?: At the moment? Yeah. There are things I am still angry about but it’s... fine.

48. Some things you've tried in your life: Smoking. Drawing. Singing. Writing. Playing the guitar. ???

-

49. What does your wardrobe consist of?: Black and reds. 

50. Favourite colour to wear?: Black.

51. How would you describe your style?: Goth/punk

52. Are you happy with your current looks?: Eh.. Not really but it’s all I got.

53. If you could change/add something to your appearance - impossible or not - what would it be?: Grow. Damn. Facial. Hair. Holy FUCK.

54. Any tattoos or piercings?: Snake bites. But I took one out so only one lip piercing now. And tattoos? Soon. Very soon. [Gonna be Higgs’ themed, baby.]

55. Do you get complimented often?: No and when I do I make it Stop. I hate it. Never compliment me. 

56. Favourite aesthetic?: Black/gold aesthetics as of late.

57. A popular trend that you dislike: Everything. I hate them all.

- [FINALLY THE ONES I WANTED, JESUS CHRIST]

58. Songs you're currently obsessed with?:  Allesfresser by LINDEMANN 

It’s a great song to listen to for me because I just punch my punching bag to this song. Makes my anger just... go away. It’s fuckin’ nice.

59. Song you normally wouldn't admit you like: .... Let’s Dance by David Bowie

I am a new fan of David Bowie. It just literally started in July or late June. I’m the typical metal head but for some reason Bowie just caught my ear? I dunno, man.

60. Favourite genre?: METAL. Well, Power Metal. I love all sorts of metal except for like.. most death metal/black metal. It is too much for me sometimes. But yeah, if yall are into metal... I’m all ears. I love talkin’ about metal.

61. Favourite artist/band/genre?: Well I already spoke about my favorite genre. For favorite bands? God... Uh.. I have a list here of favorite bands/musicians. Check it out if you’re interested. 

62. Hated popular songs/artists?: Honestly? I’m gonna be one of those guys and say pretty much everything on the radio these days. I don’t like pop/rap and all the most popular stuff. Turning the radio on is ear torture these days. Except for the rock channel, that one is okay most of the time.

63. Put your music on shuffle and list first 5:

1 - System of a Down’s Chop Suey in the Style of Ghost by Ten Second Songs

This guy is simply AMAZING. If yall haven’t already, you NEED to check out his channel. He is wicked talented and he has different styles for different songs. Like for example, Metallica’s Enter Sandman in the style of David Bowie. It’s amazing. 

Check him out. His YouTube is Ten Second Songs.

2 - City by Hollywood Undead

This one just gives me my inner Higgs’ vibes. That is really all I can say.

3 - Mein Teil by Rammstein

4 - Cars by Fear Factory

5 -  龍が如く極 - Turning Point [From Yakuza Kiwami]

Yeah, hi. Yakuza fan here. Do I have to say any more? 

64. Can you sing or play any instruments?: I can kind of sing, [very badly, mind you] and sort of play the guitar. I’m tryin’ to learn Come as You Are by Nirvana at the moment... but that’s about it

65. Do you like karaoke?: 

.... Yes. My inner Nishiki in me just cannot lie about this.

66. Own any albums?: Absolutely. I am a firm believer in albums rather than just buying them digitally. I love having an actual copy in my hands rather just on the computer. 

67. Do you listen to radio? What stations?: Not really. I only listen to the rock station.

-

68. Favourite movie/series?: Star Wars.

69. Favourite genre of movies/books/etc: Uhhh... I don’t know

70. Your fictional crush/es: Sam Fuckin’ Porter Bridges, General Hux, RK900...

71. Which fictional character is you?: [Chuckles nervously] 

Higgs Monaghan-- 

Too many to write down. I’ll just pass myself the trouble.

72. Are you a shipper? List your otps, if so: Eh not really. Only like.. Gavin/RK900 [Reed900] and General Hux/Kylo Ren [Kylux/Huxlo]

73. Favourite greek god?: Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh? I don’t know?

74. A legend from where you live that you like: None.

75. Do you like art? What's your favourite work or artist?: I’m gonna be cheesy and say all of my friends because it’s true. I love my friends art.

76. Can you share your other social media?: Yeah sure. My twitter is @hiiggsmonaghan

77. Favourite youtubers?: Markiplier, Jacksepticeye... Streamers: Vargskelethor and Vinesauce

78. Favourite platform?: Tumblr and Twitter

79. How much time do you spend on the internet?: .. Too long

80. What video games have you played? Which one's your favourite?: Ones I have PLAYED that are my favorite: Pokemon, Devil May Cry, Final Fantasy XV, Yakuza 0/Kiwami. 

I also have a lot a games I love that I just watched. Like a lot of Legend of Zelda games and of course Death Stranding!

81. Your favourite books (manga also counts): Anything really by William Blake. I guess that really isn’t a “book” but.. all I really read are poems, Shakespearean plays and Egyptian history books.

82. Do you play board/card games?: No

83. Have you ever been to a night marathon in cinema?: No

84. Favourite holiday: Halloween

85. Are you into dramas?: Not really.

-

86. Would you use death note, if you had one?: ABSOLUTELY. And I do have one. Well... a replica. Not the real one of course.

87. What changes would you make in the world, no matter how impossible, if you had the power to?: Get rid of the racists, rapists, pedos and homo/trans phobes. The world would just be more pleasant to live in, yeah?

88. Could you survive a zombie apocalypse?: Probably. Because I stay inside a lot anyway.

89. If you had to be turned into a paranormal being, what would it be?: A demon because I am that fuckin’ edgy.

90. What would you want to happen to you after your death?: VOID OUT, BITCH. Uh, I don’t know. 

91. If you had to change your name, what would be your pick?: I did change my name so I am happy with it. 

92. Who would you switch your life with for a week?: Uh.. No one. Can that be an option?

93. Pick an emoji to be your tattoo: The devil smiling one I guess?

94. Write 3 things about yourself - only one of them must be true

1. I am in a poly relationship while I am also engaged.

2. I have a knife collection

3.I still used an mp3 instead of using my phone for music

-

95. Cold or hot?: ... Cold because you can get warm with blankets and sweaters while if you are hot, it’s damn impossible to not be hot.

96. Be a hero or be a villain?: Hero in my eyes, but to all of you I’m the villain for some DAMN reason.

97. Sing everything you want to say or rhyme?: Sing I guess. Imagine singing in metal. Holy SHIT

98. Shapeshifting or controlling time?: CONTROLLING TIME.

99. Be immortal or be immune to everything aside from natural death?: Immune to everything. I’m sick of being sick.

====

And there you have it. I’m... fuckin’ DONE. This took literal HOURS, ANON. I hope yall read through this.

[jennifersylvesters]

not so subtle - part ten

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x reader Word Count: 4.3k~ Warning: swearing A/N: welp, it’s here. we in the endgame double digits now folks. just as a heads up, “not so subtle” will be taking a semi-hiatus. basically this means i'm putting it on the back burner due a couple reasons. one: i’d really like to complete “ring ring” or “how to trick someone into loving you” because they have less parts. two: i was looking over my original outline and it’s not as strong of a conclusion as i wanted it to be. with that said, hope you enjoy this part. it’d be cool if y’all gave feedback, but no pressure

Now that you were aware of your feelings for Harrison, things sucked.

You desperately wanted to avoid him, but it wasn’t like those times that you ignored him due to your fervent hatred. In fact now it was the total opposite. You couldn’t look at him for more than a couple seconds before turning into a flustered mess. Who is this bitch, and why is she acting like a pining, lovesick idiot? It was disgusting how head over heels you were.

If you weren’t looking at Harrison, you were thinking about him. Your mind became consumed with images of the boy - the way he laughed, the way his nose crinkled, those flecks of deeper blue in his eyes that only shone when the light hit just right. Even the way he stretched showing just a slight bit of skin had a hold on you. Stupid brain.

You kept trying to reason with yourself, pointing out all his flaws. Yet for every flaw you were reminded of the softer, caring side he displayed only towards you. God, you were such a goner.

Yet you knew Harrison didn’t feel the same way. And why should he? You gave him time and time again reasons not to date you. Meanwhile there were other more glamorous girls that he could surround himself with. Remembering that made things suck more. All you wanted was for him to feel the same way. Was that too much to ask for?

Apparently. Ha ha ha. You truly played yourself.

Just suppress your feelings. That’s what you reminded yourself daily. You could totally play it cool and casual like he wasn’t destined to break your heart. Just avoid social media. And going out. And him in general. It wasn’t that difficult.

Except it absolutely fucking was. After Valentine’s Day, Harrison visited your campus frequently. He claimed he was bored and the campus offered good research material for any college roles.

You could put on your best scowl and tell him to leave you alone but he paid no mind. The nature of your relationship had become lighthearted without you even realizing. No matter the threats you threw his way, he simply shook them off.

Whenever you studied, Harrison sat next to you in the library or cafe. While you flipped through notes and textbooks, he played on his phone or read through scripts.”Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” you snarked, hoping your aggressive nature would prompt him to leave.

“Nowhere I’d rather be than here” he hummed. You thanked whatever higher being was out there that Harrison never glanced up to see your beet red face.

His bolder, familiar moments had you sweating bullets. Sometimes he hovered over your shoulder, his breath fanning your neck as he asked what you were working on. Other times he doodled in the margins of your notes while you were still writing.

“Osterfield, what are you doing?” you’d ask nervously seeing how dangerously close his hand was to yours.

He’d hum in response, engrossed in his drawing. “Just doodling” he would answer as your heart pounded out of your chest when his hands finally bumped yours.

“Is this alright?” Was it alright that he got you hot and bothered with a simple touch? Absolutely not. Was it alright for him to be drawing? Also not really. The whole point of writing notes was to focus on important details. Now all you did was goofily smile at the drawings on the sides of the pages.

But as soon as he looked up at you, all you could do was nod. One nod and his beautiful smile would come out; it took all your effort not to fall apart. You both longed for yet hated these moments. He had you wrapped around his finger, and the two of you weren’t even remotely close to dating.

There were flickers of potential where you thought he might see you differently, that he might actually like you. It was the way he brought snacks to share, always bringing your favorite treats and letting pick out your favorite flavors. They were the times he grabbed your bag when it was heavy, hoisting over his shoulder and walking you back home without complaint. Well, mild complaints. It was Harrison after all. Then there were those moments where he bumped shoulders with you only to gently tap his fingers on your arm. Three light taps as if to say “sorry about that”. It was a secret language that only you two shared.

Yet this was Harrison.Every time you felt so much of an inch of possibly being together, your hopes were instantly dashed. You wanted to have this blindly optimistic faith that he was falling for you like you fell for him. But wearing rose-colored glasses wasn’t something you could easily do when you saw the way he was around other girls.

Whenever you studied, you noticed girls slipping him their number and flirtatiously waving. He would flash them a grin and pocket their numbers with ease. His casual nature about these flirtations made you unsure if he could ever commit to a single person. Could he commit to you? Better yet, would he commit to you?

You told yourself you didn’t even deserve to be jealous. It’s not like you were dating him much less putting yourself out there. Even so, it stung to see girls fawning over him in your presence.

You tried to put distance, thinking if you inched away he would leave you be. Your chair grated against the floor as you shuffled away. Take the hint, Osterfield.

Unfortunately he didn’t understand that social cue. Instead he scooched his chair closer to yours. “Stop being jealous, Lil Skunk” he teased not knowing how his words meant more than he could ever realize.

“I’m not jealous” you hissed trying to focus on your work. A post-it note floated onto your notes reading: “if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s probably jealous ;)”.

“You’re such an idiot” you laughed quietly tossing the note back at him and he grinned.

“But you probably think it’s attractive, don’t you?” God, how you wished he was wrong.

With midterms approaching you hoped he would let you to study in peace. Of course Osterfield thought it was a better to do the opposite. Even when you insisted for him to leave you alone, there he was right by your side. Sometimes he left snacks or post-its saying “don’t fail, lil skunk” with an ugly drawing of a skunk frowning. It was so adorable you wondered if you should frame it. No, you idiot. Don’t be a creep.  

After all the late night studying and energy drink jitters, you managed to submit your papers on time. The tests were hell, but somehow you pulled through. You let out a tired sigh of relief as you tossed in your last test and headed back home.

Bursting through your apartment door, you saw Kimberly sitting upside down on the couch. She held a carton of strawberry ice cream in her hands while a spoon stuck out of her mouth. You grinned at the sight of your normally put together roommate looking slightly disheveled. Kimberly only got this way when she finished exams.

“I’m done with hell week!” you announced as you bounced down next to her. Pulling the spoon out of her mouth, she scooped up ice cream and held it towards you. Not one to deny yourself a sweet treat, you happily obliged taking the bite.

The two of you lazed around for a bit longer before she nudged you.

“Bar time?” she asked.

You nodded. “Bar time.”

It became a group tradition to celebrate finishing exams by going to your favorite bar. Despite being exhausted, you looked forward to this night knowing some of your friends partied harder than usual. You weren’t even sure why that was, but with how hilarious things got you didn’t question it. Nothing could ever top Sarah’s drunken serenade before she toppled down the stairs at a bar, but perhaps tonight someone else would claim the shame spot.

A couple hours later you headed out with friends towards the bar. No surprise the place was packed when you arrived. A good chunk of the patrons were students, everyone congratulatory drinking after the stress of finals. And why not? No more finals meant no longer worrying about late night cramming and napping in strange locations to get just an ounce of sleep.

Your friends managed to snag a small booth as you all crammed inside before ordering drinks. Everyone was in good spirits discussing their plans for spring break. While everyone excitedly talked about where they were visiting, you kept quiet. You planned on heading to the Bahamas with Emma but knew Tom and Harrison would probably accompany you. The idea of Harrison wandering around shirtless on a constant basis had you overwhelmed just thinking about it. Those abs. Oof.

About an hour later Tom and Emma shuffled through the crowd towards your group. Despite the ruckus, you could hear Emma worrying about her results.

“Babe, I think I failed. Oh, God. What if I failed?” Emma groaned as she gripped Tom’s sleeve.

“Nothing you can do about that now, darling” he shrugged before regretting his words. Your best friend let out a loud wail causing Tom to quickly apologize. “I’m sure you passed with flying colors! You’re so smart, babe!” he encouraged as the rest of you roared with laughter.

With Sarah preoccupied in a conversation, Kimberly nudged you to accompany her to the bar. The place was packed as the two of you pushed through the crowd. “Are you having fun?” your roommate asked as she waited for a bartender to take her order. You shrugged nonchalantly.

While everyone else was getting drunk, you slowly worked on a cranberry vodka. Sure, finals had been stressful but you wanted to relax. Downing shots was not what you had in mind. Surprisingly enough it was comforting being around this hectic noise. Hearing your friends laughing about trivial things felt oddly comforting, but there was only one voice you wanted to really hear.

That’s when you noticed Harrison across the bar. Ever since you realized your feelings, you found it easy to spot him in a crowd. You gravitated towards his presence. A part of you wanted to call out to him and wave him over. Despite his friendliness the past weeks, the idea that he would ignore your gesture worried you. Maybe his friendliness was a long con for playing a prank. Elaborate but not outside the realm of possibility. But the internal struggle vanished when you realized he wasn’t alone.  

Next to Harrison stood a blonde girl clearly interested in the Brit. You swallowed hard watching him smile at her as she gave all the signs of flirting. She leaned in whispering something in his ear. Her hand gently grazed along his arm. The way she bit down on her lip and pushed her chest out made it clear she wasn’t looking to just be friends.But it was her giggling and him breaking into laughter that struck the final blow because whatever she was selling, Harrison was definitely interested in.

It was reality slapping you across the face that you weren’t going to be that girl. You couldn’t simply flutter your lashes. You sure as hell couldn’t press up against him with the intention of expecting something more. How could you act cool around someone who flustered you without even trying? There was no way you could just act like a completely different person. He was Lil Shit and you were Lil Skunk. And that sinking feeling was a reminder that things would never change.

Gripping your drink, you chugged it before slamming it down on the bar. Kimberly watched with surprise as you ordered another. As the glass slid in your direction, you immediately pounded it down. The alcohol heated your stomach as you quickly gulped before making a face.

“Y/N-” Kimberly started as you called the bartender over once more. “Are you-?” You ignored her concern as you ordered a pint of beer. When he asked your preference, you shrugged and told him to take his pick. It didn’t matter anyways. You just wanted something to loosen you up, help forget reality even if only for a couple hours.

Half of your pint glass was drained by the time you finally acknowledged your roommate again. “Y/N, are you okay?” Kimberly asked as she eyed your drink.

“I’m fine” you grunted. “I’m great actually. I’m having fun.” If you said it enough, maybe it would actually become real. That it wouldn’t hurt to glance Harrison’s way. That you wouldn’t let this misery wash over you. That wouldn’t let fate remind you how would never have him. Tears that stung in your eyes wouldn’t slip out. You refused to let them. Absolutely no way you were bawling over Harrison in a bar. You had more class than that.  

You knew that if you wanted to get drunk - plastered even - you needed a certain amount of stealth around her. Kimberly was the voice of reason you wanted to simply flick away and ignore. As much as you loved her, you just wanted to drink to forget the pain. Was that such a crime?

So once you finished your pint, you left it on the bar and joined your friends. It was easy enough to convince them to buy you a couple drinks, using the excuse of you needing one after all those finals.

You found yourself slipping into a haze, sounds becoming slightly louder and certain thoughts sounding funnier than they ever did. Whoomp - there it was: you were certifiably drunk and way above your tolerance levels.

No one seemed to notice, not even Kimberly who was too preoccupied with her girlfriend. As you swayed to the bar’s music along with Emma, you kept telling yourself that you were fine. You were having fun.

“Hey I’m gonna head out.” Your ears perked up at the sound. Did that voice know how much you liked it? You would listen to it recite a takeout menu if given the opportunity.

Turning you saw Harrison clap his hand on Tom’s shoulder. Harrison whispered something into Tom’s ear causing his best friend to glance around before turning a shade of pink. Something inside you flared up. Was he heading off with the blonde girl? Of course he would. He looked cozy with her that you imagined he jumped at the chance to take her home.The assumption that Harrison was leaving with her left you seething.

You weren’t in your right mind as you burst into laughter causing both boys to look in your direction.

“‘Course you are” you slurred out. Harrison gave you a strange look as you blurted your immediate thoughts. “‘Course good ol’ Osterfield is getting laid tonight. Wouldn’t expect anything less!” Holding the cup in Emma’s hand steady, you took a long sip as she laughed at your antics. Both of you howled with laughter unaware of Harrison looking visibly hurt by your words.

“She’s just drunk” Tom tried to justify your actions, helping steady you as you toppled slightly.

“Yeah, drunk as a skunk” you snorted. “Ain’t that fitting for your little nickname for me.” You laughed dryly, knowing there was nothing funny about the moment.

Like a woman possessed, you grabbed Tom’s beer bottle and began chugging it. Tom’s eyes widened and shot a glance over at Harrison who just stared at you. Tom tried taking prying it away but your grip was tight. He could take the damn thing once you finished.

“Y/N, c’mon” Tom groaned. Once you finished, you put it on the table and let out a loud cheer. Emma and the rest of your drunken friends whooped along.

“I’m having fun, Tom. Why don’t you get with the program?” you sneered as you stumbled back, Harrison helping to keep you upright. You heard that voice you love so much murmur your name, urging you to stop but you simply shook your head.

“Go big or go home, bitches!” you roared out as you threw your hands in the air. Another round of cheers rang through the bar again.

For the rest of the night, you became a certified hot mess. You drunkenly sang along with the jukebox, shimmying to whatever tunes blasted through the speakers. You attempted to climb on tables, getting handsy with whoever tried to help you down.

You didn’t even notice how Harrison stuck by your side the rest of the night. Whenever you stumbled, he steadied you from falling over. Any guy that looked even remotely interested in you was shot a nasty glare.

He was practically babysitting you despite Tom’s insistence that he could take care of you and Emma. Harrison roughly shook his head watching you publicly embarrass yourself without a care in the world.

As the bar began closing, he slid his arm around your waist to keep you upright. You whined about wanting to keep the party going. The others tiredly cheered for that idea though the enthusiasm was wavering. If anything, the group just wanted to crash at someone’s place.

“As long as you guys don’t throw up on my floors, you guys can come over” Kimberly suggested earning a couple whoops.

You don’t remember when but you found your eyes getting heavy. You wanted nothing more than to pass out despite your earlier declaration of being able to party till the sun rose.

“‘m tired” you mumbled.

“Almost there, love.” You sighed leaning into his side before sleep washed over you. “I got you.”

The next morning your head pounded causing you to lowly groan. You slowly blinked awake with heavy lidded eyes. What time was it? The clock on your cell phone read ten thirty, and you grimaced at the bright backdrop from the phone.

Stumbling to the bathroom, the feeling that you were about to throw up kicked in. Oh no. You hurried into the bathroom quickly kneeling before vomiting. Gross. Despite the nasty sight of bile floating in the toilet, you felt slightly better.  

Taking a swig of water from the sink, you gargled and spit out the taste of the lingering vomit. It was a heavy reminder of your idiocy from the previous night. You brushed your teeth vigorously and gargled mouthwash hoping you weren’t the hottest mess of the night. Maybe Sarah did something worse than you?

Shuffling back to your room you heard voices arguing in the living room. Your head throbbed and you wondered who the hell was arguing this early. Everyone last night seemed to be on good spirits. Did someone throw up on the floor? Or worse - on another person? That would be a bitch to clean up. Except you realized the voices were two people who rarely argued.

“-would just tell her!” Tom yelled as you neared the living room.

“Just butt out!” Harrison shouted. The floor creaked as you entered the space prompting the conversation to come to a halt. Tom and Harrison glared at one another before Tom finally looked your direction. His face softened slightly, his mouth beginning to part.  

“Fuckin’ leave it alone, Tom” Harrison scowled. Tom swiveled back to him and glared. The mental showdown left you concerned, but you weren’t even sure how to ask what was happening.

Harrison turned away first muttered something under his breath. Jamming on his shoes, he shook his head and left slamming the door on the way out. You couldn’t help but jolt at the brusque action.

“What’s going on?” you asked. Silence. Everyone turned away from your glance besides Kimberly who shot you a helpless smile. Clearly they couldn’t speak about the matter. At least not in front of you.

“He’s...He’s coming back, right? He’s just grabbing something from his car?” Once again you were greeted with silence. Finally Emma looked up and shook her head.

You blinked at her response. Was this your fault again? Had you messed up everything last night to the point where he couldn’t stand your presence? You swallowed thickly at the thought. You hadn’t meant to upset Harrison that much, but you didn’t think that warranted him leaving. If you upset him, shouldn’t he have told you instead of rushing out like that? No, you weren’t going to let him go without an explanation.

Without waiting you slipped on sneakers and rushed after Harrison.

The rain heavily thundered outside and crashed down onto you. You pushed your hair out of your face as you spotted him pacing back and forth on the pavement. He was already soaked but he was too lost in his thoughts. You called out his surname which prompted him to walk away.

“Harrison” you called out, scampering behind the Brit who stormed ahead. “Harrison, wait!”

He turned around looking you dead in the eye.  “You realize this is the first time you’ve said my actual name, right?”  The statement caught you by surprise.

“I-I’ve said your name before” you stammered, but he shook his head.

“No, you’ve always called me by my last name, Y/N. Or Lil Shit.” He smiled at this, like the times you meant to be malicious were nothing more than the use of a tender nickname. “But you’ve never called me by name. Not since we first met. And...those times.”

He didn’t have to finish his thought for you to understand his reference. What happens in Vegas doesn’t always stay in Vegas, does it? Not when it came to your feelings. Your face heated up at the reminder of what occurred that night. But was he telling the truth?

You tried to recall when you last called him by his first name but none came to mind. It was as if your anger always got the best of you. You relegated him to being only a friend of a friend, nothing more nothing less. You never wanted to grant him that intimacy in your relationship. Not until recently.

Oh.

So he was right. Despite your fiery temper, your actions had always been cold as ice.

“Did it really mean nothing to you?” His question pulled you out of your thoughts.

“What?”

“That night in Vegas. Did it really mean nothing?” Fuck.

Obviously it meant something. You told yourself at the time that it was simply a fling but at what point had you realized you were lying to yourself? You chose Harrison purposely that night. You wouldn’t have kissed him so forcefully if it meant nothing. You wouldn’t have allowed that intimacy between the two of you if it meant nothing.

Because in truth he meant everything to you. All these complicated emotions, all these confusing moments, everything. They meant everything to you, and it was why you panicked that night. Because you were so terrified that it could have meant nothing to him. The idea that he wasn’t all in when you would throw everything on the line scared you. Even now this vulnerability frightened you.

“You’ve never shown commitment to anyone, Osterfield. Why would I be any different?” He cringed when you called him by his surname but fell to pieces with your question.

“You’ve always been different, Y/N! Always!” He sounded so exasperated, desperately wanting you to understand his truth. Harrison turned around shaking his head wishing he could have you understand the gravity of his emotions.

“Then why all the other girls, Osterfield? You can’t just tell me that and then pretend those other girls don’t exist. I saw-”

“Because none of them really exist to me! Not the way you do!”

He turned around, his face straining as he let out a groan.

“W-what-” It was all you could muster, caught off guard by his admission.

“How do you not get it?!” With a pained look he ran his fingers through his damp hair.

“Don’t yell at me!” And there it was again. That spitfire part of you that didn’t know how to reign in your anger. That part of you that was afraid to be serious with him.You knew this temper of yours would ruin everything yet you let it get its way.

“I’m not yelling!”

“Yes, you are!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you clearly are!”

“No, I’m- you know what? Just forget it. Forget I said-Just forget it!” he scowled as he began walking away.

A split second later he stopped with his frame shaking. He turned on his heels heading back towards you. Your heart pounded, afraid he finally snapped after dealing with your frustrating attitude for so long.

Taking his last step he was only inches away. As you were about to question him, his mouth crashed onto yours. There was desperation in the kiss, a sort of hunger to it. He cupped your face firmly but tenderly, like he didn’t want to let go but felt how fragile you were. And you almost forgot how to breathe.

Harrison gently pulled away, hands still on your face. He studied your expression, trying to get a read on you. “Harrison-” you murmured and his eyes gently shut.

Despite the cold rain pouring down on the two of you, he looked enveloped in warmth just hearing you call his name. “I like hearing that the best” he whispered.

Shakily, you brought a hand up to touch his face. He leaned into your palm, comforted by your touch. He opened his eyes and smiled tiredly at you. Harrison dropped his hands from your face, taking your hand from his own cheek. His lips brushed gently across each finger, causing you to shiver.

“I’m always thankful for you. I don’t know why you don’t get it. You’re so goddamn special. You’re on a different wavelength than anyone else, Y/N.” And with that, he let go of your hand and headed off.

tags list: @sleepybesson, @sophiatomlinson23, @supernatural-girl97, @tomhaz | @almostrosadiazz, @alt-ernativewonderland, @blackstarryroses, @bringmethehorizonandpizza, @butithasntkilledyouyet, @chims-kookies, @choke-me-sweet-pea, @deleteidentity, @divosterfields, @highladyjel, @hollandhearts, @jessiq31, @kateelyse96-blog, @kayla-m1996, @lovelytrashure, @mylifesucksbuthereiam, @otheenglishsetters, @sadnoelle, @sarcasticvodka, @sleepwalkingdragon, @soccerstud004, @spider-mendes, @thefallenbibliophilequote, @wolvesofthewinter

[projectalbum]

First 100 down. 96. “Rockin’ the Suburbs,” 97. “Ben Folds Live,” 98. “Songs for Silverman,” 99. “Way to Normal,” 100. “Stems and Seeds,” 101. “Lonely Avenue,” 102. “So There” by Ben Folds

I owe Nick Hornby for the introduction.

The High Fidelity author’s collection of essays on pop music, Songbook, made the case for Ben Folds’ contributions to the canon in a chapter on “Smoke.” Hornby writes so persuasively, in a deceptively casual style that I’m perhaps a bit too pretentious to ever approach with my own pop culture writing. There’s a lot of music covered in his book that I failed to investigate on my own. But that particular passage must have triggered something in the back of my mind, some residual impression of “Brick,” perhaps, which sent me to the Web for those first BFF tracks (none of which were “Smoke,” by the way, though I agree with Hornby’s appraisal of its lyrical strength).

It quickly became a total fandom— I now have all the official LP’s, band and solo, and the EP’s are floating in the digital ether of hard drives and burned discs. I even bought the soundtrack to the little-remembered Dreamworks quirky CG animal picture Over The Hedge, to which Folds contributed several original tracks (a soundtrack that marked his most recent collaboration with William Shatner, a pairing that also yielded a full-length, Has Been, which is a simultaneously ironic AND unironic great listen.) No one is going to bestow the crown of ultimate Ben Folds fanboy on my head— I’ve ONLY seen him live twice, and neither time was even with a symphony orchestra! Nevertheless, I’ve been following his output for a good decade, and my record is solid.

His records are also solid (as is this excellent segue), exploring the outer limits of musical flavors available to a largely pop-oriented guy with a piano and an ear for harmony. Rockin’ the Suburbs (#96), his first post-Five record (exempting Fear of Pop: Volume 1, an experimental doodle from the era of the Messner recordings, which I only mention to smugly show off my bonafides yet again), incorporates synthesizer squeals, a Korn-parody guitar breakdown, treated keyboards, and strings, but his ivories are still at the forefront. His lyrics here are the ultimate template for the rest of his career, featuring: the irreverent humor of a class cut-up (like “Rockin’ The Suburbs’” self-aware chorus or the climactic, harmonized shout of “Motherfucker!” that ends “Fired”), the incisive character sketches of a short story author (“Fred Jones, Pt. 2” is a mini-masterpiece of well-observed details, but I think “Carrying Cathy” is downright shattering), and the delicate balance of sentiment any memoirist must strike (“Still Fighting It” hits the bullseye, but “The Luckiest” is a bit too goopy for me).

I have always had a big soft spot for Songs for Silverman (#98), which has been painted by some critics and BFF fans as a turn into mopey adult contemporary. There are a couple of skippable tracks, for sure, but it doesn’t sound as far from the old days as the doubters believe. After handling most of the instruments on Suburbs by himself, and doing a quite literal solo tour- just the man and his Baby Grand- as documented on the superb Ben Folds Live (#97), Folds missed the sonic chemistry that came from having a band in the studio. Though Jessee and Sledge had followed their own paths (the former touring with Sharon Van Etten, the latter adopting an existence of a lower key than the music business), Folds assembled a more than capable bass/drums duo to pump up the jazzy breakdown in “Bastard” and the chorus of “You to Thank.”

“Landed,” even without the orchestral strings that he later decided overwhelmed the melody, has rightfully earned its place in the classic Folds firmament. Hearing the introductory notes at my first Ben Folds show was enough to conjure a lump in my throat. Seemed weird for me to get unduly emotional about it: the chorus is upbeat (complete with signature “Ba-ba-ba-ba”s) and the story of a man emerging from a controlling relationship is not something I’ve experienced or even witnessed, so I can only interpret this as a reaction to the beauty of hearing a masterful pop song.

As the Web became more of a presence in daily life, and piracy was taking huge bites out of the music industry, Folds ably kept pace with the evolving relationship between an artist and his fans. That included embracing the nascent social media networks- which by the mid-2000s meant MySpace- and posting new music before it hit the streets. During my first couple years of college, I had one of these tricked-out profiles myself. This may have been the way I first heard, in 2008, the “fake” tracks.

Alternately crude and tremblingly earnest, they were a collection of “leaked” songs ostensibly from Folds’ forthcoming album, Way To Normal (#99). There was “Bitch Went Nutz,” a 1st person narrative about a Republi-bro scandalized in front of his peers by his Anarcho-Socialist fuck buddy that plays like the most profane “Weird Al” Yankovic pastiche ever. And “Cologne (Piano Orchestra Version),” a stunningly pretty concerto-ballad that gets absurdly overblown with a chanting male chorus and a dozen keyboards playing at once. And a handful of winkingly self-serious social justice ballads. All written and recorded, it was later revealed, in about a day, and launched into the bootleg blogosphere as a prank.

These were eventually officially released on Stems and Seeds (#100), alongside alternately-mastered versions of the “real” songs. The legitimate tracks found on the official LP are only slightly more tasteful, with a somewhat explicit Divorce Record vibe on kiss-offs like “You Don’t Know Me” (with Regina Spektor lending her magic) and “Brainwascht” (about the battle lines that can be drawn between mutual friends of split couples). When the lyrics are slightly regrettable (like the stereotype-mining “Bitch Went Nuts”), the melodies usually carry it. Exceptions would be the intentionally-grating “Errant Dog,” and the limp celebrity satire “Free Coffee” (skippable on record, but in live shows, Folds illustrates how he gets the treated piano sound by placing Altoids tins on his strings, which is a bit of nerdy fun).

Things came pleasingly full circle when it was announced that Folds was co-writing an entire album with Nick Hornby. The mutual appreciation society of these two artists had become a collaboration outlined right on Lonely Avenue's (#101) cover art: “Ben Folds Adds Music and Melody to Nick Hornby’s Words.” It’s a magical working relationship mirrored in their biographical tribute “Doc Pomus,” about the irascible musician who penned classic rock standards like “This Magic Moment” and “Save The Last Dance For Me” alongside Mort Shuman. This sense of pop history permeates 70’s-influenced arrangements like “Password” and “Belinda,” the latter about a Manilow-esque crooner reflecting on the love that inspired his greatest hit, who he callously abandoned for a fling with a flight attendant sporting “big breasts, a nice smile, [and] no kids, either.”

My 2 favorite tracks are a study in tonal opposites: “Claire’s Ninth,” a delicately affecting portrait of a young girl in the middle of a chilly but courteous divorce, and “Saskia Hamilton,” a gleefully nerdy ode to the most phonetically pleasing poet’s name ever. Their musical commonality is that neither one is a slow-tempo plaintive ballad, which have their place, but are the Folds tunes that I tend to skip in his later releases. “Claire’s” chords are jazzy and gently driving, with gorgeous vocal harmonies in the chorus; “Saskia” is frantic, driven by old school Moog synthesizer, with quirky flourishes like the female opera singer making a vocal cameo in the breakdown— it feels like a mutual homage between the song’s authors to “Weird Al”’s more esoteric original compositions.

So There (#102), while technically reaching full-length status with the inclusion of a real-deal “Concerto For Piano and Orchestra,” feels oddly slight. It was hyped by the artist himself as a unique new collaboration: pianist and new classical ensemble making pop songs together. He had experience with performing full-orchestra arrangements of his older songs (as on the excellent DVD “Ben Folds and WASO Live in Perth”) and overdubbing strings on new recordings, but this he advertised as a from-the-jump co-written project with yMusic, a sextet of players bringing strings, woodwinds, and brass. The Chamber Pop tracks that result have their delicate beauty, but the album resists falling into a snoozy easy-listening trap by alternating the ballads with the kind of sprightly, pazz and jop numbers that similarly kept Silverman moving.

It’s all just so… pleasant, and it seems to slip out of my mind and soon as I’ve heard it. If you were to strip-mine it for a Ben Folds playlist, I would pick out the title track for one, with its trilling strings, burbling brass, and father/daughter harmonizing. The instrumental section after the first chorus- what it might be appropriate to call the 2nd Movement- gets closest to fulfilling the promise inherent in the album’s Chamber Pop experiment. I might sound overly harsh on this release— re-listening to it while writing this post, there’s nothing that’s a huge turnoff, or a waste of time (except maybe the metaphorically one-note novelty track “F10-D-A,” which, granted, doesn’t outstay its welcome, running a second under 2 minutes). However, nothing there really sets my heart on fire like the first time I heard the swirling arpeggio of “Zak and Sara” (first through the raucous solo piano version on Live, then the filled-out studio recording on Suburbs), or the chorus of “Landed,” or first “ba ba BA ba ba ba!”ed my heart out as a human “Army" trumpet in the crowd of my first Ben Folds show.

[handcat]

bro im registered for 3 classes and on a waitlist for two, one of which i really need to take, then i have a couple in my cart that i dont need to take but would still be cool and helpful so idk if i should register for those and then removec one or both if i get into the waitlisted one or maybe take seven classes and die fuck fuck fuck im just going to register i dotn give a FUCK

[anexplanationofunfortunateevents]

THIS IS HAPPENING TO YOU. PAY ATTENTION.

It’s hard to know how much to say about Trump-Russia reports because they’re mostly confirmation of things that we’ve known for ages. But last week there was a wave of information about how the disinformation attack happened, and it’s really important to understand.*

Maybe even more important, it’s been confirmed where the attack happened: everywhere. Every social media network, whether or not it has a conventionally political slant, was infected by viral disinformation. Google! Pinterest! Tumblr! Pokemon Go! Is nothing sacred?!???

It’s important to remember: just because this operation was to help Trump, does not mean that all the misleading online content was overtly targeted at Trump supporters. We’re talking about disinformation – ie, lies. They impersonated and exploited people all over the political spectrum. White supremacists. Conventional registered Republicans. Sanders supporters who don’t identify with any political party. Texas secessionists. Racial justice activists. Environmentalists. And on, and on. The idea was just to crank up the volume and turn the environment hostile and irrational. That would always benefit Trump because nobody does hostile and irrational better than Trump and the Pepes, which was a big part of why he was the Kremlin’s guy.

This infinite list of feigned viewpoints is possible in part because compared to television and other older media, political ads on social media are cheap and unregulated. (Snapchat, which does screen the content it promotes even if it hurts their bottom line, doesn’t seem to have been hit with the disinformation campaign.) If you’ve targeted your audience as carefully as you would if you were selling homemade soap, your target audience will pick it up and pass it on for free, doing most of the work for you. They might even take a meme from one platform and pass it along to another, infecting a whole new group of people with the disinformation.

It doesn’t even all have to be ads, which at least leave a money trail for us to catch. Some of them are just fake accounts, pumping this stuff out for free. During the election, the people leading the Trump campaign regularly shared content from at least one Twitter account which was a Kremlin sockpuppet. (Which, tbf, was a pretty good impersonation of a standard-issue #maga supporter.)

A few examples:

Then there’s these clowns: 

One of the posts from that month includes a link to a story about Hillary Clinton wanting to censor New York’s Laugh Factory comedy club. “Hillary must be in prison for this!” the account wrote with the link attached.

The pair also promoted a shirt labeling Bill Clinton as a rapist in an October video called “A word of truth about a rapist’s wife.”

“To say the truth, Bill Clinton is a rapist. And there is a lot of fact to prove it,” the host says, before saying the Clintons are “serial killers and they are going to rape the whole nation.”

The video concludes with the line: “We have to do all we can to not allow this racist bitch to become the next president.”

In an August video, one of the hosts explicitly endorses the movie Clinton Cash and begins the video by saying, “I support Bernie Sanders.”

“Today is old bitch Clinton time,” the host says before a title card informs people watching that the film will premiere the day prior to the Democratic National Convention.

Most people aren’t dumb enough to think this is logically substantiated, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to overload people with this firehose of vitriol until they lost track of where all the ugly was coming from, until they bought into the slogan here:

“Everyone Sucks, We’re Screwed 2016” was not a reasonable assessment of reality, which was that all the suckage was coming from Trump. But somehow it became a mantra repeated constantly by Trump skeptics on the right, Bernie fanatics on the left, and smug comedians on late night television.

Because it was fucking everywhere, including on Tumblr. (Those links are to the Wayback Machine and just posts that I could find easily. I don’t know if they’re troll accounts or suckers, but they’re examples of the propaganda.)

It’s going to be a while before we know how widespread this campaign was. For now, you can flip back through your own tags from last year. Did you interact with Wikileaks posts? Links to right-wing propaganda sites from accounts that otherwise seemed progressive? People questioning the legitimacy of the Democratic primary process? Jill Stein cheerleaders? Then you got dragged into this, too, and you deserve to understand as much as possible about how it worked.

Some of it was more or less straightforwardly what you’d expect from an operation with the Kremlin’s goals. Remember, they wanted to install Donald Trump in the White House if possible, and if that didn’t work, at least damage Hillary Clinton enough to hobble her presidency. So, although these guys weren’t the only targets, it makes sense that there was lots of Breitbart-style trash targeted at conservative-leaning voters. But that kind of stuff isn’t only absorbed by people already inclined to hear it. When it gives the rabid right-wingers something to splash all over their social media networks, it makes the political environment downright hostile for people who were sincerely excited, and as those voices are silenced, all that’s left to worm its way into the subconscious of people who are largely apathetic is loud ugliness.

They also targeted voters who were inclined to be anti-Trump by trying to gin up apathy or outright hostility toward Hillary Clinton from the left. Some of this was the same misogynist tropes as the pro-Trump ads, just swapping out Trump for Bernie Sanders or Green Party nominee Jill Stein. The left isn’t nearly as bad as the right, but we do have bigots, nihilists, and weak-willed Billy Bush types who accommodate them, which allowed the propaganda to take hold. That failure was particularly destructive because the left tends to have a lot of impressionable idealists and young people who are forming their political outlook based on general vibe of the current election. So you had a lot of people cynically expressing, passively validating, or actually believing this idea that there wasn’t a meaningful choice between the candidates. By the way, weeks before the election, Steve Bannon was openly boasting about the campaign running exactly this digital strategy. What a shocking coincidence! 

There’s an even more devious layer. Remember the dress from a couple of years back? 

There’s studies about something called priming: basically, when you remind people of social outgroups, it can actually activate some people’s subconscious biases against those outgroups. So a Kremlin troll looking to turn Americans against each other could target ideologically opposed groups with the same ad. Conservative-leaning whites would see what appeared to be an uncompromising Black Lives Matter post, get defensive, and become more susceptible to Trump’s inflammatory rhetoric. The exact same post would win credibility with members of the multiracial progressive coalition who were young or otherwise new to politics, making the troll account more effective when it told them not to bother voting. Other troll accounts made similar efforts with the LGBTQ movement and with at least one defunct Muslim organization – appropriating the activism and the very identities of the people the Trump and Putin regimes threaten the most.

It can be subtle.

After an American admirer of ISIS massacred 49 people at an Orlando nightclub in June 2016, the community quickly created an event titled “Support Hillary. Save American Muslims!” that presented Clinton’s name in an Arabic-style font.

The fake United Muslims of America page was quick to point out Clinton was “the only presidential candidate who refuses to ‘demonize’ Islam after the Orlando nightclub shooting,” and boasted that “with such a person in White House (sic) America will easily reach the bright multicultural future.”

Insofar as you can evaluate the words The Daily Beast quotes, they’re either true or aspirational. If you’re a person who was disgusted by Trump’s Islamophobia, you probably did support Hillary at least in part to protect Muslim Americans from the nightmare they’re experiencing now. It’s very true that Clinton was the only candidate who refused to demonize Muslims after the Pulse Nightclub murders, and she was as clear as could be that demonizing Muslims is wrong. If you’re a person who understands that was the right thing to do, you probably didn’t think that electing her would “easily” bring about any “bright multicultural future,” but you certainly hoped it would be a step in that direction – and it hardly seems unfair to Clinton, since it seems pretty clear that if she could wave a magic wand and get rid of xenophobia easily, she would. So you have to squint for the tells that it’s meant to push people away from her and toward Trump:

The timing. American Muslims are normal, decent people, as much as any other group of Americans. They didn’t make the Pulse shooting about themselves as Muslims. They showed up for the people who were attacked. Or they kept their heads down, specifically because saying things like this while the attack was fresh in everyone’s mind would have the priming effect on some people, reminding them that Trump and his supporters believed it was socially acceptable to use the tragedy as a club against Muslim Americans.

The Arabic-style script. If the ad was for Arabic speakers who would have a harder time reading the Latin alphabet, the ad would be in Arabic. It’s in English because it’s not for them. It’s there in a distinctive script to prime the audience to associate Clinton with the foreign and unfamiliar.

The phrasing. Voters who were susceptible to Trump’s rhetoric were likely to have a deep anxiety about the changing demographics of the future. The confident assertion that Clinton’s America would “easily” bring about its multicultural future aggravates that anxiety. Also, and this may have been an unintentional error but the effect would be the same, the ad doesn’t refer to “a” hypothetical “bright multicultural future.” It uses “the,” a definite article, suggesting that this multicultural future is imminent and inevitable. Basically, this endorsement pushes the same button as “taco trucks on every corner” guy. (Reason #22,909,002 to stay mad: WE COULD HAVE HAD A TACO TRUCK ON EVERY CORNER.)

This attack could not have worked if there weren’t already deep fissures in American society. That’s no excuse to take this lying down! First of all, if the divides were as deep and poisonous as they could be, nobody would’ve bothered with an attack. If the Kremlin had not interfered in last year’s election, if we had only been up against our own undemocratic demons like voter suppression, campaign finance failures, and the Electoral College, we’d be living in a world where President Hillary Clinton was solidifying the gains of the Obama years, Associate Justice Merrick Garland was striking down voter suppression laws, and we were all arguing about Empire and Riverdale instead of fighting for our lives every fucking day. If not for this years-long foreign assault on our hearts and minds, we’d be alright. We’d be far from perfect, but we’d be able to keep working on bridging those divides. Hell, without Russian help, Trump may not have made it past the New Hampshire primary. There’d still be a bunch of boneheaded racist misogynists who abandoned the GOP to support him as a third-party candidate and they’d still be a problem, but they wouldn’t be running the show without an international criminal conspiracy to get them there. (But we’re the “globalists.” Sure, Jan.)

On top of that, though? There’s a reason that they attacked the Democratic candidate and were so desperate to demoralize progressives. There’s a reason that they could take over the GOP. The Republican Party is already a party of intolerant extremists who are doing everything they can to destroy liberal democracy – or, worse, people who know better but have enabled them for decades. The left-of-center coalition has to hold the line right now. Not just on principles, either, but in giving a shit what’s true. That’s not even about moral superiority, though if moral superiority keeps you on task, by all means, go with it. It’s strategic. We’re never going to beat them at their own game. The Democratic coalition is too diverse to agree on some fantasy, and too young to avoid the long-term consequences of ignoring reality. We’re going to have to keep on being the party that autocratic oil baron pigs hate. That means hone your bullshit detector, and start expecting the people around you to do the same. Do more call-ins than call-outs. Start watching out for sites or situations that push your buttons more than they inform you. These kinds of attacks aren’t going to stop, so we need to start building immunity now. I’m sorry, I know this is the hard way, but them’s the breaks.

Further reading:

There’s a deep dive at The Guardian.

A researcher at Columbia University, ran the data on six – six – of the 470 profiles Facebook has acknowledged were Russian troll accounts. The results are sobering – as was Facebook’s response to the scrutiny. 

If you’re curious how this worked on the Russian side of things, read the summary of an investigation done by Russian independent media and an interview with a paid troll who worked out of St. Petersburg. This won’t get at the size of the operation, but there’s some insight into how it worked.

And no, we still haven’t done the kind of forensic audits that would tell us if this years-long intensive cyber operation successfully hacked the final vote. Sleep tight.

*An illustration of how this news flow works: this post was mostly done by Monday. New reports that were worth adding into the description have come out at least once a day since then.

[skittlesandlemonade]

5/10/19 - Grad Day

Holy fuck

Holy fuck I’m terrified for what’s about to happen. It’s currently 01:31 am the morning of my fucking college graduation. I actually did this shit in 4 years. It flew by so fast and I really wish it didn’t but I kept reminding myself this entire time to cherish every moment and live in every moment & I really hope I accomplished that. I feel like I did. Idk if I’m necessarily “ready” for this next chapter but I don’t really have a choice bc it’s here, lol. I had orientation for UHCL today, and it’s mostly women, which is cool. Kinda nervous to start with them. Hopefully I find an apartment and get situated soon.

I’m kinda excited bc I know I’ll be studying and practicing in something I’m actually passionate about. Even though I might have to let go of dance, I’ll hold on to it as long as I can in any capacity.

Goals for myself would be to work for digital media companies such as Blademy or Jubilee, and to work with black/minority communities. And somehow keep dancing. Speaking into existence and throwing it into the universe for safekeeping.

I got this. I know I do. It’s scary and crazy but I can’t stop now.

You got this, Gloria.

UPDATE 4:49 PM DIDNT WALK TODAY BC IT FLOODED LAST NIGHT AND IT GOT POSTPONED TO SUNDAY BUT A BITCH!!!!! GOT A CAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[andro-boi]

Being Ghosted

Sooo you’ve been seeing someone, tuning, flirting, dating in a goddamn relationship or whatever you kids call two people being more than friends. 

Suddenly, and maybe without any warning at all, your buddy seems to have disappeared. 

No calls, no text messages, no connection made on social media, no responses to any of your messages. 

Odds are, your buddy hasn’t unexpectedly left town because of a family emergency, and isn’t lying dead in a ditch somewhere but, rather, has simply ended the relationship without bothering to explain or even let you know. 

My friend,You’ve been ghosted.

Who Ghosts and Who Gets Ghosted?

Why would someone choose to simply disappear from another person’s life, not even a fucking conversation or a TEXT EVEN at least to end a relationship? You’re asking all these questions, trying to get an answer and there’s no fucking response from the other end.  You will most likely never know for sure WHY you were ghosted. 

”While more studies need to be done specifically on the ghosting phenomenon, past research has looked at different types of attachment personalities and choice of breakup strategies; it’s possible that people with an avoidant type personality (those who hesitate to form or completely avoid attachments to others, often as result of parental rejection), who are reluctant to get very close to anyone else due to trust and dependency issues and often use indirect methods of ending relationships, are more likely to use ghosting to initiate a break-up.

Other research found that people who are believers in destiny, who think that relationships are either meant to be or not, are more likely to find ghosting acceptable than people who believe relationships take patience and work. One study also suggests that people who end relationships by ghosting have often been ghosted themselves. In that case, the ghoster knows what it feels like to have a relationship end abruptly, with no explanation, no room for discussion. Yet they seemingly show no empathy toward the other, and may or may not experience any feelings of guilt over their ghosting behavior.”  - Psycom

Personally Dad thinks its because of the rise of the internet. If we can just “Block” people in our online world, why wouldn’t people start “Blocking” people in real life by not responding to their messages or calls. 

What it Means to Ghost and Be Ghosted

Ghosting is not limited to “Official RomanticRelationships”. Informal Dating relationships, friendships, and even work relationships are seeing a rise of “Ghosting” as a form of ending any relationship. 

GHOSTER : The person in a relationship who DOES the GHOSTING

GHOSTEE : The person in the relationship who GETS GHOSTED 

For #Ghosters, simply waking away from a relationship Is a quick and easy way out. No Drama, No Hysterics, No Damn Questions Asked, No need to provide answers or justify any of their behaviour, and no need to respect or deal with someone else’s feelings. Fuck yeah while the #Ghoster may and most likelt will benefit from not having to deal with uncomfortable situations and any potential drama that it may evolve into. HOWEVER they have done nothing to improve their own conversation and relationship skills for the their damn future. 

Learning to approach people is important, and learning to leave someone properly is also important kids. 

For #Ghostees, there is often no closure and a deep sense of uncertainty and insecurity. At first they will be hella confused and wonder “What the fuck is going on?!” when they realise that they may be ghosted. Once the realisation that there IS NO ANSWER from the other end, they are left to wonder why, what went wrong in the relationships, whats wrong with the ghoster, whats wrong with them, how they didn’t see this coming, how they could have prevented it, and potentially create trust, insecurity, and abandonment issues. 

What to Do If You’re Ghosted

Ghosting fucking hurts, lets be real people. 

It’s a damn Cruel Rejection. (But like why does everyone do it so much damn?)

Ghosting can be a particularly painful form of rejection because the #Ghostee is left with literally no fucking answers and in this day and age of technology, unless your #Ghoster has not literally blocked you on everything you can imagine you are probably going to see them appear on various forms of social media (That damn stupid instagram algorithm!) and, if thats the case.

How the fuck do you move on from someone who is physically gone, yet digitally everywhere. 

Unfortunately, there’s no magic bullet or proven advice to quickly guide you into recovery from a ghosted heart, but there is common sense.

“Avoid reminders of your ex,” advises Gwendolyn Seidman, Ph.D., Associate Professor of Psychology and Chair of the Psychology Department at Albright College in Pennsylvania. “They’re likely to cause painful emotions to resurface, and they won’t help you get emotional closure or insight into why they broke up with you.”

The Next Step? GHOST THEM BACK YA BAD BITCH!!!

After you stop torturing yourself by going over old photos, saved old texts, new social media postings, and anything else you think might give you insight into the mind and current whereabouts of your ghoster (and let’s face it, you’re bound to be doing that even if you’re not normally an obsessive person), try to find a new distraction. OR Even better, just delete all those fucking memories that keep hurting u and making u cry at 2am in the morning in the maccas carpark. Perhaps most importantly, know that this probably isn’t about you or anything you did wrong.

“You should realize that if your ex chose the strategy of ghosting to break up with you, it likely tells you something about them and their shortcomings, rather than indicating that the problem lies with you.” Dr. Seidman adds.

So In other words,  the best damn remedy for a GHOSTED HEART is to try to move on as quickly and completely as you can. Maintain your dignity and stay focused on your own health, drinking your fucking water, happiness and future, leaving the ghoster to deal with the ultimate repercussions of their own immaturity and lack of courage in the context of a relationship.

But also if people are toxic for you then ghost them but at least give them an explanation when they DO ask for your whereabouts.

[occupyscifi]

Red state and blue state It was while he was in the bathroom hate-jerking to president Laura bank’s morning address to the nation that American Patriot (formerly named Alex Smith) noticed something weird with his screen. It might have been his imagination, or it might have been the bottle of super power diet pills he’d downed as part of his morning regime – all the better to prepare him for his live cast to his loyal patriotic fellow Americans – but then again it might have been something more. ‘Goddamn Feds, interfering with my feed’ he muttered, one hand on his stars and stripes tattooed member and one hand groping for his Russian issue hacking glove. He’d had that dronexed from a guy who swore he was in deep with one of Putin’s favourite hacking gangs, and it was guaranteed to cut through anything the Feds were doing to his live feed of the president’s liberal ass tirade to the poor working American people. ‘….which is why we have to provide abortion clinics on the corner of every high street’ the president was saying, her sober business suit as always decorated with every goddamn lapel pin from Blue Lives don’t matter to SJW’s united against men but no room for the good old Stars and Stripes. “And remember that our daughters deserve better than…” and at that point the screen juddered again as if hit by old school static interference. But one important thing prevented Patriot from reaching for his encryption scrambler that enabled him to avoid the fakenews networks from making him pay for their fake news biased media sheep feed. For while the image of uber cuck bitch Banks flickered and strobed the background of the Rose garden stayed steady. Her cabinet of assholes, cowards and cucks also wavered – women vanishing and being replaced by older white men before changing back. And yet the security guys required to stop honest Americans from second amendmenting the President to death remained the same. “What is this bullshit?” Said Patriot, sensing conspiracy . After all conspiracy was his trade, there wasn’t a corner of the internet he hadn’t visited in his crusade for the truth. Never mind how many facts he’d been hit with, never mind how many people tried to convince him otherwise once he smelled truth he never gave up till he had the evidence to back up what his gut had been telling him all along. His heart beat faster as he shrugged on the hacker glove. Although his increased heart rate might have been more due to the pills, the bottle of which rested on the cabinet of his palatial bathroom. Its fittings and fixtures had been paid for by the subscriptions of honest Americans upset by the biased expert filled and fact laden un American media. Patriot tapped the glove on the screen that filled most of the bathroom mirror. The reflection of himself, toned muscle and tumescent member, vanished to be replaced by the boring ass stats behind the live feed he had been watching. Unlike a great number of his colleagues Patriot had actually been to college- where he studied computer science- and despite his dislike of experts was something of an expert when it came to deciphering the complex numbers behind the digital images he had been rage-sturbating to. “Okay, so what do we have here?” He muttered, tapping the screen. First he removed the usual subliminal ad routines that were meant to inculcate in him a desire for whatever brands had paid the president's people the highest. Most of them were brands that had sponsored his show, the pill makers and the financial services giants, brands he was happy to use himself. Then he broke the images down into their composite layers and narrowed his eyes. It was a live feed of the White House lawn, that much he could be sure of, and it was also definitely true that the President was there. Patriot raised an eyebrow, he had been hoping one of his favorite conspiracy theories – that Laura banks had died of AIDS before the beginning of her second term and been replaced by a CGI mockup – was true. That theory had got enough traction that her rival in the next election was already using it in his campaign ads. Then again Holden Reston would have used any evidence to try and score a knockout blow against the liberal witch. Not that the lame stream media would ever even give him the time of day. “So what the fuck am I missing?” Said Patriot, grabbing with his other hand a Wellness Super Ass nutrition shake to focus his mind. He popped the can and chugged the caffeinated goodness inside, feeling it fill him with the power of ancient Chinese wisdom and definitely certified brain power. With his gloved hand he tapped more at the screen. There was clearly someone interfering with the source, changing the audio of the address as well as some key visual features – swapping out entirely some figures from the background and making sure that Bank’s face matched her words ‘who the fuck is doing this?” He tapped more and frowned more “and why? Ain’t she liberal enough that someone has to change her words?” He looked closer at the screen, at a chunk of code that seemed to control the whole thing, enabling one of two outcomes. Currently it was stuck on the A signal. Patriot wondered what would happen if he flicked it to B. “Maybe get the goddamn truth for once” he muttered to himself, forgetting that he had always assumed that Banks’ divisive and dangerous liberal rhetoric was already inflammatory enough. With a gesture he flicked the settings onto B, praying that this really was a proper conspiracy and not just his TV fucking with him “here we go. Truth bomb time” “….which is why we have to give every high schooler in America access to the latest military grade firearms” Banks was suddenly saying, her accent having changed mid word from east coast liberal whine to red state cutesy drawl “because folks, the only way to stop a bad eighth grader with a gun is to give a good eighth grader a gun. I mean, c’mon. Giving em recess detentions ain’t gonna cut it, right?” “What the ever loving fuck?” Muttered Patriot, watching in horror as Banks then went on to explain why the US should leave the UN because it was a plot to make honest Americans into gay Muslims. When she began to explain why climate change had been invented by the communists Patriot almost had a joygasm. “Goddam liberal media…” he breathed, a mantra he repeated so often it had almost lost its truth. Well not this time. This time he’d caught them at their game. A game so vast it beggared belief. That they had been changing Bank’s message all the time. That she had been an honest god fearing American, fighting for the red white and blue while all the time the feminazis of Silicon Valley had been undermining her message “this… this is so fucking huge I can’t even…” He scrabbled around for a piece of un-networked media to record this on. Were he in his home studio room in the lower level of the bunker he shared with a hundred or so other survivalists he’d be surrounded by gear for secretly recording data beyond the reach of government goons intent on undermining his constitutional rights. However his bathroom was slightly less well appointed, and as he usually used the place to wash and jerk off in he didn’t like to keep cameras around, even if they weren’t linked online. “Shit, I’m losing it…” he muttered as the screen started to strobe again and the code stream on the right filled with ident numbers that Patriot recognized as being some heavy duty semi sentient subroutine starting to take an interest in what he was doing. The last thing he needed was the cyber Feds sending their digital goons after him. While the bunker – a former minuteman missile silo in rural Kansas- had enough digital protection to match its physical equivalent Patriot had no illusions that it could stand up to a full scale assault. The Fed’s were using the same next gen anti encryption software developed not in the fight against terrorism but the much more lucrative fight against movie piracy. You might fuck with Homeland Security and survive, but fuck with Hollywood and you were going down. Desperately he looked about him, trying to find something with some media storage, no matter how meager. In the networked digital age every household item up to and including the common toothbrush was not only linked wirelessly but contained enough memory to store a record of its users habits, ready to sell onto the highest bidder. However Patriot’s toothbrush was currently out of charge and there wasn’t much else that would be able to record what he needed. Desperately his eyes fell on the box of pills he’d been knocking back. The bottle was pretty much generic, but the smart label on the side had enough computing power to order him more pills every time he had finished the last one. “Shit, shit, shit” Patriot cried, seeing that the all seeing eye of the godless software was about to find out where he was based even through the heavy screens of VPN’s and TOR routers. His thick fingers scrabbled at the label, picking the edge to bring up the contact and slapping it to the screen. With his gloved hand he grabbed at the code, copying as much as possible onto the bottle before the Feds could come crashing through the window “cmon, c’mon” he muttered to himself as he tried to sync the smart label with the screen. As they did so he noticed two things. The first was that the label had changed from ‘PowerBro True American Eagle strength Wake me up to Freedom’ to ‘Earth Mother’s all natural high’ – decorated with a cheery lo fi smiley face and claiming to have been made by hippies in Portland. The second was that the interrupt code was already stored on the label. However before Patriot could make anything of this revelation the screen on his bathroom wall exploded, firing fragments of glass at his unprotected body and blasting him backwards into his bath. His apartment, being fully connected to the internet of things – albeit through enough encryption software to keep a Chinese dissident hidden from his government – then shut down totally plunging him into darkness. The only light coming into the bathroom was from the lounge, where a screen the size of a wall usually showed a live feed of stirring patriotic images from around the states and served as a good backdrop for his casts. Now it just hummed and shone in an unhealthy blue. “Blue screen of death” said Patriot, impressed despite his injuries “now I know that I’m onto some serious shit” “Your system’s fried” said Stetson Cole, fellow bunker survivalist and former Silicon Valley whizz kid that Patriot called in to the ruin of his apartment. He had been thorough in his assessment, and he was certain “and anything on it is fried” “You're sure?” Insisted Patriot “I got backups for my backups. I record everything, you know that” “And they all got fried” insisted the programmer, hitching up steampunk e-glasses and scratching his beard. He’d given up Silicon Valley for the lure of living in an underground bunker and only came to see Patriot because it had been Patriot who’d inspired him to become a survivalist in the first place “dunno what hit your system but it was the equivalent of a nuclear missile. Shit, even those old VHS tapes you got in the back there have been erased. I didn’t even know there was malware that could do that” he shook his head, impressed at the skill involved. “Fuck, I need evidence” said Patriot “if you’d seen…if you could have heard what Banks’ was saying…” “That bitch never said nothing that wasn’t a straight up lie from the mouth of Satan himself” said the programmer, his MIT educated voice sounding skeptical. “No, no she wasn’t like that” Patriot looked around the ruin of his bunker apartment. The curved wall ran along the inside edge where once a missile would have sat snugly, waiting for a chance to end the world that had never come. Patriot had decorated in lots of pinewood and hunting accessories in homage to American survivalist from ages past. The walls had been hung with prints of patriotic martyrs, from Bundy to Mcvee to Jared Kushner. However the explosions of the screens had torn these from the walls too. Patriot gritted his teeth, this was more than a patriotic man could bear. He had paused long enough only to put on a pair of Stars and Stripes undies before calling Stetson on his old ham radio “she sounded honest. Sounded American. Sounded like the kind of woman we should have running the country” “Well she don’t sound like that to me” said Stetson “Cause they interfering with what you've been streaming, Stet” insisted Patriot “they got us all fooled. Even me. Till now” “Gonna need more than your bathroom story I’m afraid, old friend” “Well there is one thing” said Patriot, pulling out the bottle of pills “Earth Mother’s natural High?” Said Cole “my wife takes those, gets them from some liberals pharmaceutical place” he looked at Patriot worriedly “didn’t have you down as the wellness type. It’s all juju berries and hippy crap. Thought you’d be a PowerBro man like me” “I am” said Patriot “and this was a powerbro bottle. Till I tried to interface it with my screen. Now its got all this crap on it” he picked at the side “but I kinda fried the circuit along with the rest of the house. Was hoping you might be able to get something from this” “No chance brother” said Stetson “whatever data was on it is long gone. It’s as fried as the rest” “no, no but that don’t matter” said Patriot “cause whatever code was fucking with my screens was on these pills too. So I guess if we just buy another bunch..” “I got some in my apartment” said Stetson “And I got my wife’s hippie crap if you wanna compare” “make it scientific, yeah” said Patriot, who had long railed against the scientific method as un American. However in moments like this it hardly mattered. There was a higher truth at stake. Cole's apartment was, if anything, even more stereotypically survivalist than Patriot’s. The only difference in the Deer Hunter aesthetic was the nerd shrine that was a requirement for anyone who’d made a buck in Silicon Valley. Ancient Apple II’s jostled with illegally made knockoffs of first generation Star Wars toys. There was also marked evidence of feminine inhabitation, which Patriot sniffed at. Letting a woman inhabit a man’s space was the first step towards being a cuck. Next thing you knew you are acting like an SJW and mailing your balls to the Feminazis. “in here” said Cole, featuring to a room filled floor to ceiling with stacks of computer hardware. Enough cabling to garrote a giant connected to more computing power than had put the Chinese on Mars. He sat and placed on a desk the bottles of PowerBro and Patriot’s slightly crisped bottle “should be able to crack this in no time” However two hours later they were no closer to getting the code, both Patriot and Stetson having taxed their expertise to the limit. Patriot was getting antsy. He had a show to tape and he wanted to be able to bring down the government before the evening. “why the fuck isn’t this working?” muttered Patriot in frustration “ can’t even find the code at all” “Hey, I mean look” said Stetson looking awkward “s'no shame to admit you had a fugue. You know we all get em. I trashed my screen after I took too much PowerBro and tried to complete Call of Booty on dead man mode. I was hallucinating them zombie Nazi strippers, y’know. We’re dudes. Sometimes we fuck up...” “Hey, what the fuck?” said Patriot, looking furious “the fuck makes you think I have breakdowns?” “Umm, cause on your show.. “ said Cole “what do you mean…” began Patriot, then thought again. He did act like he was on the edge of a breakdown, jumping around like a lunatic and spitting as he talked. But that was just the standard Alex Jones rant mode that every shock jock, right and left always used “shit, you know that’s all scripted, right? I don’t actually get so mad I tear my clothes. And I don’t wanna burst your bubble but when I start spitting blood, that ain’t real blood” “I just thought…” began Stetson, chastened somewhat “You know, it’s showbiz. Don’t mean I don’t mean all I say. Now we gotta crack this shit or else the bad guys gonna win. You wanna say that you let the traitors get away with it?” “no I don’t” said Stetson. Looking again at the bottles “Okay, there is one person I can call to help us. But I don’t think you’re going to like who it is” “listen, I don’t care what kinda asshole guy you get to do this. Just call him and get us our code” “We’ll that’s just it” said Stetson “isn’t a him. She’s a she” “Okay, I can deal with that. But she tries some SJW crap then I ain’t gonna hold back…” “nah, she won’t” said Stetson, then raising his voice “honey, could you come in here a moment? We got something we need a little help with” Stetson wife was just about acceptable to Patriot, her only flaw being that she was a hot woman who dressed in a casual way. Naturally Patriot knew women only wore makeup to attract and beguile men to do their bidding, but he felt Mrs Stetson Cole could have worn more. However she greeted him with a smile and a nod. “I watched your show” she said, her voice carefully neutral “it’s pretty… illuminating” she smiled politely. “Ella hate watches it” admitted Patriot “she gets real worked up over it” he looked sheepish, not least because when his wife got that angry the sex was out of this world. For that he could easily forgive the completely opposite views of politics. That and the fact they had been in love since they’d first met at a coding party in college. “well hell” said Patriot, who wasn’t surprised. He knew his demographic figures well enough to know that probably as many people watched him to get angry at him as did to get angry and with him. “one subscriber is as good as another. Keeps the wolf from the door and all that” Stetson explained the situation to Ella and handed her the bottle of pills, she turned them over in her hands. “You know these are the exact same pills, right?” She said “I mean the bottles sure look different but the pills inside are identical” “Bullshit” said Patriot “I been sponsored by powerbro pills long enough to know…” “Identical” insisted Ella “to the point where whenever Stetson runs out of powerbro I just sneak a couple of my bottles into his bathroom cabinet. Label changes automatically” “You’re shitting me” said Stetson “how their fuck does that work?” “That's…that's it. Must be it anyway” Said Patriot “cause, don’t you see? They got a code on there that changes what people see. I read about that” he tried to think which particular conspiracy site he’d seen that had told him. Then he remembered it had been in the Wall Street Journal, a magazine he’d never admit to reading because it was part of the MSM establishment and as close to Satan as you could get. However if you wanted to be a savvy entrepreneur it paid to keep up with things. He took the bottle in his hands “its like with the adverts you see. They aren’t just a bunch of random plugs for shit you don’t need. Every time you pass a smart screen or a smart fridge or whatever it picks up your personal metadata, all those tags you generate every time you buy something online…” “Which is why I ain’t bought on line since I was eleven years old” said Stetson proudly “there isn’t any data that big brother has on me” “Except they’ve got algorithms that can predict with a high degree of statistical accuracy what a man of your age, -occupation and ethnicity would buy” interrupted Ella, idly connecting the labels of the bottles to the nest of machinery. She looked up at Patriot, an annoyed expression on his face. There was a reason he did live casts without a live audience. He hated being interrupted “I did a girl’s guide to semi sentient software programmers” she shrugged “hey, its not all about man hating…” “Yeah, so what happens is that the makers of those bottles see whose looking at them. If its some hippie dippy liberal snowflake it goes all Paltrow. It’s a real honest American patriot then its turns to powerbro” “Sure, okay” said Stetson “but how does that help us show that the US president isn’t some liberal whiny bitch?” “Because clearly she isn’t like that when its some liberal asshole watching” said Patriot “its only red blooded Americans that have to stomach a woman whose feminazi agenda is ruining this country…” “Wait, what?” Said Ella “that doesn’t really make any sense. Why hide the fact of who she is to half the country? Why not just pretend to everyone who she really is?” “Because they wannna laugh at us” said Patriot, imagining his favorite hate image of the east coast liberal elite “in their fancy ass parties quoting The NY Times and talking about how anyone outside a city is a dumbshit redneck. They wanna lord it over us, laughing at us…” “…but what if liberals and conservatives have a conversation about politics? Wouldn’t they find out pretty quickly that Laura Banks isn’t a Liberal? What about…” “Come on darling, you know that don’t happen” said Stetson kindly “you know since the Twitter wars and the social media cleansing people don’t talk about politics face to face. It just ain’t done…” “Yeah, yeah I can see it clearly now” said Patriot, his eyes wide “and it’s just as I thought. A goddamn liberal conspiracy to keep good Americans down and pretend that our president is some godless liberal do gooder. I think it’s about time that the American people knew the truth” he looked at Ella whose eyebrows were raised so high they were in danger of disappearing into her hairline “can you get me that code? Can you show me how it can change what people see?” “Sure I can” said Ella “but I still don’t get how…” “You don’t need to honey” said Stetson patronisingly “cause Patriot’s gonna explain it to everyone, live at 5. That’s the kinda broadcast that could bring down the government” he started eagerly pottering around his apartment “I better get my best clothes ready. I wanna storm the state capital looking good, you know?” “You’ve done the American people a great service, little lady” said Patriot, as Ella wordlessly handed him an ancient looking non networked USB stick with the data on it “and I hope you’re going to be watching” “Wouldn’t miss it” said Ella, but Patriot was already heading out the door so he missed her sarcasm. It was a great show. Patriot hit all his best notes, he grovelled, he growled, he shouted and went so red he was in danger of bursting something. He told the American people everything he about the conspiracy to hide the fact that Laura Banks was really an honest red state American. He was somewhat surprised however when he left his home studio to find someone in his living room. His surprise only increased when he recognised who it was. “spokeswoman Tori” he said to the smiling face of the regime he despised. Every true American knew to hate Tori Al-Sperring. She had been the one to hector the media, to pour scorn on honourable news networlds like Foxbart and InfoDrudge. To have the audacity to demand evidence where gut feeling should have been enough. Patriot’s surprise though ended when he saw in her hand a slim pistol. Clearly her repudiation of the 2nd amendment ceased when it came to bumping off honest truthtellers like Patriot. He had guessed, and maybe even a little hoped, that this would happen. After the livecast his suddenly murdered body would only add weight to his words “what a surprise. We’ll I’m afraid you’re too late. The word is out. You leave me dead and it’ll only prove me right” “Two things” said Tori, her voice clipped and naturally bitchy “number one, if we wanted you dead we’d have killed you soon as you caught the code. Secondly the word may be out but the word is wrong. So wrong in fact you’re kinda doing us a favour” her smile widened “not for the first time, by the way” “so what’s the gun for?” asked Patriot, wiping sweat away from his forehead this was not caused by the stress of the situation, but from his livecast. He was a very active performer, what with the studio lights, the foaming at the mouth and screaming about how honest Americans were being genocided by liberal hate he was quite exhausted. “same reason anyone has a gun. To look cool. To make people listen” “Okay, so I’m listening” said Patriot, plonking himself down on an easy chair “what are you going to tell me?” “the truth” she said “a concept you may have heard of, but I don’t think you have much contact with” “and the truth is what? That you got the real Laura banks hidden away while we have to listen to the fake bullshit liberal one? Cause I ain’t stupid. I know how easy it is to cook up liberal shit. There’s meme generators on the internet more believable than the liberal crap she comes out with. I could do better. I’m amazed no one but me has noticed that it ain’t the real Laura banks” “Well this might disappoint you” said Tori, idly spinning her gun around her finger “but they’re both as false as the other. There isn’t a real Laura banks. You get a choice, either liberal Laura or conservative Laura. Take your pick” “Wait, what?” “It’s simple. You were half right. We do use algorithms to write her liberal speeches. But we do the same fir her conservative ones. Basic algorithms overlays all the broadcasts she makes, some of them are for a conservative audience, and others for a liberal one. It’s a trick as old as TelePrompter. And saves us a ton of work” “So what you're saying” growled Patriot “is that the Laura banks I been hating on is the one that liberal want to be watching? That I should have been getting gun tooting Laura all along?” “Oh no” said Tori “quite the opposite in fact. You get liberal laura because you’re conservative. If you were some latte sipping liberal on the East Coast you’d be getting wall to wall Mexican hating small government loving god fearing laura” “What's the fucking point of that?” Said Patriot, totally lost. He could get his head around the idea of. A virtual president, hell there’ been rumours of that since Trump’s second term. Some of old orange Julius’ insults had started going on repeat and there were plenty whispers that he’d had one Trump steak too many and died of a heart attack. His aides had just used some off the shelf adobe program to stitch bits of old speeches together and hope no one noticed. As for twitter there were enough random Trump tweet generators to keep the old man’s legacy going forever. But it was just the idea that whoever was secretly running the government was giving people a president they hated was just beyond him “you mean you make sure that everyone sees a president they fucking hate? Why?” “C’mon American” said Tonos “I’ve seen your show. You more than anyone know the power of hatred. You think if on your show you gave thoughtful deconstruction of liberal arguments that anyone would watch? You think if you didn’t pander to the lowest prejudice people would still subscribe?” “Well, yeah” said Patriot “but I give people what they want. They're already angry. I give ‘em something to be angry about. Don’t know why the fuck you make us watch something we hate” “Seriously?” Said toni “you mean to say you’ve never hate watched something? You’ve never deliberately tuned into a channels, viewed a live cast or seen a movie knowing it would make you angry and then just did it anyway?” “I might” he said, his eyes narrowing “And, hand on heart now, how many of your viewers do you think are what you would call ‘card carrying liberal ass wimps’?” “I got a few” he admitted “More than a few” said Tori “remember, I’m from the big bad people who run the Government. We know everything about you, including your show stats. Last time I checked you had more than seventy percent of your audience share coming from locations described as liberal, and from households where average data suggests a heavy voting average towards your hated liberal agenda” “Yeah, I don’t get how that means you make the President an asshole” “Because to be honest everyone wants the president to be an asshole” said Tori with a sigh “look, I represent a shadowy cabal of Silicon Valley billionaires and other dark money industrial barons. When we took over running the government it was the end of the second Trump term – and yes, you were right. We did replace the old bastard, but not because he died but because he couldn’t hack being president any more. Being a businessman he sold the office of President to the highest bidder. Luckily that happened to be us – and we outbid the Russians by a hair only. Anyway when we took over we thought the American people had had enough of hating on each other, they were exhausted by division. Defeated after fighting each other at every turn. They were sick of blue state and red state, republican and democrat. They wanted a uniter and not a divider and so we gave it to them” “What, you mean Buckwheat was your guy?” “Buckwheat wasn’t real” said Tonos “he was a bunch of code and an actor we’d mo capped to get the moves right. But more than that he represented what every focus group, left and right said they wanted. He was the middle bit of the venn diagram where even the most divided American could agree. He was pro second amendment but could talk round the gun lobby. He was anti abortion but he did more for women’s reproductive rights than any president. He was a church going Christian who was at home chatting with atheists. He was…” “The most boring goddamn president ever” interrupted Patriot “no fucker cared what he was doing. He didn’t have no opinions, he was always been the nice guy. Always talking when he should have been kicking ass…” “Yeah, that was what everyone seemed to think” said Tori “Buckwheat had the lowest approval ratings of any president since post 1929 Herbert Hoover. But no one knew why. You asked people on the street their opinion of him and they’d shrug, like yeah, he seemed like an all right guy, but no one gave a fuck. No one supported his policies, but then again no one really opposed them” “Hey, I’d have thought if you'd were running the government that’s exactly the kind of patsy you’d want. Don’t rock the boat. Cause apathy is the real enemy of democracy…” “Yeah, it isn’t” said Tonos “and you forget. We bought the presidency. The presidency is a brand and we need our guy front and centre of everything. If people don’t care about politics they don’t read the news. They don’t share click bait bullshit articles. They don’t argue online for hours. They don’t even buy stupid goddamn shirts and they certainty don’t contribute to election campaigns” Tori shook her head “no, Buckwheat was one of the most expensive goddamn mistakes we ever made. And so when his first term ended we knew we had to do it properly. Cause we’d realized, like you, that hate sells. But the problem was how do you launch a president that no one likes? I mean, sure, we didn’t have to worry about the votes because we just fixed whatever numbers we wanted. But how do we create a president that every American, no matter their creed, thinks is a fucking number one asshole?” “Pretty fucking easily” said Patriot, seeing now how it was done “you’d just have to get access to their news feeds and their social media history. Search for keywords that really pushed their buttons and you get an algorithm to do the rest” he shrugged “hell, I thought about doing the same thing for my show, but you know I’m a craftsman. People start to notice after a while if you get a computer to do your hating for you” “Naturally, and I respect that” said Tori “which is kinda why I’m here and not some black bag assassin ready to shoot you down” “Err, what?” Said Patriot, looking fearfully around “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but Banks is getting a bit repetitive. Hating on the same imaginary conservative fears that no actual liberal believes in. The same is true, if you’d ever watched, about conservative laura. The hate hits are dropping off, the number of people hate jerking to her has gone way down, to almost Buckwheat levels in some places. We need some new writers, because the computers are not enough. In short, we need someone like you to come and write content for our Banks” “and if I say no?” “like I said, I represent a shadowy cabal of silicon valley billionaires and industrial barons. How do we usually deal with our problems?” “I dunno, outsource them to India?” “Funny, but no” tori leaned closer “what will happen is that I shoot you in the face, here and now. Then some of our guys will come in and plug into your network. A CGI version of you will keep broadcasting, so that all your fans and haters think you are still alive. But because we’re cruel we’ll make sure that over time you become less and less believable until gradually all your audience will desert you. Then we’ll announce that you died, and in the most embarrassing way possible. It’ll probably involve cocks. I haven’t thought about it yet” she smiled as Patriot through about his options “on the other hand you can make an ass ton of money and we’ll even let you keep your show. The choice is yours”