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xbaepsae · 4 years

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the ebb and flow | part four

“In the five years you’ve known him, you’ve never really stopped to notice how much he has changed. Long gone is that awkward thirteen-year-old boy.”

[demigod!jeongguk x demigod!reader]

genre: percy jackson!au, mythology!au, demigod!au, enemies to lovers!au

word count: 1.9k

rating: pg-13

warnings: the usual character tension, nothing really too crazy...besides a shirtless jk lol

a/n: omg i love this chapter so much! eeek. it’s just very exciting imo lol. hope you all enjoy :) xoxo

→ series masterlist!

the fifth summer – in which you come to a realization

“How come I’ve barely seen you these last few days?”

It’s the third day of you fulfilling out your punishment with Jeongguk, and surprisingly it hasn’t been that awful. When you both are busy cleaning, you guys rarely talk. There is just always so much to be done, it leaves little room for conversation. But this is ideal anyway; the less you have to interact with Jeongguk, the better.

Looking up from your lunch, you see Haru blinking at you. She’s the head counselor for Aphrodite’s cabin now. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

Even though she’s technically not supposed to, she takes a seat at your table anyway and gives you a concerned look. However, on her pretty face, even concern looks beautiful. “There’s a rumor going around that your cabin got in trouble.”

You freeze. “Who did you hear that from?”

“I heard some of the younger Aphrodite girls gossiping last night,” Haru says, “and they mentioned your name and Jeongguk’s.”

“Oh,” you don’t even know what to say. Styx. If the Aphrodite cabin knew, then everyone is bound to find out sooner or later. “Yeah, it’s a long story.”

Haru cocks her head. “Well, good thing I’m a great listener.”

As one of your closest friends here, Haru knows much about the history between you and Jeongguk. When you tell her about the attempted capture the flag game and how you’re stuck cleaning stables with your enemy, you can tell she’s struggling not to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” she lets out a giggle. “This is all just too perfect.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, getting up to throw the rest of your meal as an offering. Walking out of the dining pavilion, Haru follows you closely behind.

“What I mean is,” she begins, looping her arm through yours, “that I can’t be the only one here who notices something.”

You have zero idea what she’s talking about. “Notice what?”

Haru suddenly forces you to stop in your tracks, angling your body towards the volleyball courts. “Notice that.”

Narrowing your gaze towards that direction, you notice there are a number of people there—especially girls. Rarely does a large crowd like that gather during this time of day; it’s the afternoon and an incredibly hot summer in Long Island this year. Your eyes move from the crowd to the players, and that’s when you see what Haru was talking about. You realize Ares’s cabin is playing against Poseidon’s, which means Jeongguk is—

“Why does he have to be so hot without a shirt on?” Haru muses, fanning herself.

From this angle, you can see the way his shorts ride dangerously low on his hips and the sweat that glistens across his skin. His hair has grown considerably long recently, and he has to continuously brush it back to reveal his eyes. As he moves to receive the ball and jumps to land a spike, you can understand why the girls are looking at him like he’s a god and not just a half-blood.

In the five years you’ve known him, you’ve never really stopped to notice how much he has changed. Long gone is that awkward thirteen-year-old boy. Obviously, training here at Camp Half-Blood makes campers leaner and more muscular, but Jeongguk looks…good—really good—which you hate to even think about.

“He looks okay,” you manage to say before you tear your eyes away from him.

Beside you, Haru huffs. “You’re so lame, y/n. Can’t even admit that Jeongguk is hot.”

“He’s annoying, that’s what he is.”

“Whatever you say,” she rolls her eyes. “I think he looks especially delicious these days.”

After you drop Haru off at Cabin Ten, you walk towards yours and proceed to finish some summer work. Well, it’s not really work per se, but more like something you just really wanted to do. Since you’re going to college in New Rome this fall and majoring in architecture, you’ve been redesigning a few buildings and even creating your own. Like most Athena children, you love creating and can’t wait to see what your future holds in the field.

You are so caught up in your work that you don’t even notice that much of the day has already passed by, and you should probably grab a quick dinner before heading to the stables. As you rush through dinner, a few of your half-siblings bring up your punishment, clearly feeling bad that you’re the one who’s taken responsibility for everything.

“As head counselor, I had to,” you explain.

“Yeah, but it’s not really fair,” one of them says. “I mean, we all wanted to give Poseidon’s cabin a run for their money.”

“They’re all so arrogant since their godly parent is one of the big three.”

“Zeus and Hades campers are the same.”

You listen as your cabin begins complaining about all the other cabins and their various faults, but their voices fade when Jeongguk passes by your table. He’s walking with Jimin and gives you a look that you can’t decipher. But before you can delve too deeply in it, Aphrodite’s table calls him over. Flashing them his signature smirk, he leaves without another glance.

“How’s it been having to work with him?” Namjoon sets his plate right in front of you, breaking your attention away from Jeongguk.

You shrug. “He’s an asshole, but it actually hasn’t been that bad. Could honestly be worse.”

“Think you’ll last the rest of your punishment?”

“I hope so,” you sip from your goblet. “Or else Chiron is going to have my ass, and not to mention Mr. D is supposed to come back next week.”

“Oh yeah,” Namjoon muses like he forgot that the god of wine runs the camp. You don’t blame him—you often forget that too. “Where is he anyway?”

Thinking back to the head counselor meeting you had a few weeks ago, you try to remember what Chiron had told you all. “I think he just had some business to take care of in Olympus. You know, twelve stuff. Meetings perhaps?”

Namjoon nods before you tell him that you have to leave. “I’ll see you guys at the campfire later.”

“Sure; see ya.”

***

You finish your portion of the stables quick—cleaning has gotten easier as the days have gone by—and wait outside the stables.

It’s not like you want to wait for Jeongguk’s slow ass, but you have the key anyway and there’s no way you trust him enough to just leave it. So, you settle for watching the last remnants of the sunset in the sky. From here, you can begin to make out the smoke from the nightly campfire. And slowly, the smell of burnt marshmallows begins to fill your lungs and thought brings a smile to your face.

For a moment, you’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t even realize that Jeongguk is already beside you. When you realize that he’s awfully close to you, a gasp leaves your lips. “Holy Styx, you scared me!”

You except him to respond with something snarky, but he doesn’t. Instead, he begins to walk away, and you frantically attempt to lock the gate and follow him. On the way to the campfire, you stay a few feet behind Jeongguk, and you can’t help but think about Haru’s words from earlier today.

As much as it pisses you off, Jeongguk is super attractive these days. However, although he looks good, you can’t get over his attitude that often clouds your judgement. He’s a pain in the ass, and you can’t wait for the rest of the punishment to fly by.

When you both arrive at the campfire, the singing has already begun. Well, the singing by Apollo’s cabin at least. You try to get as far away from Jeongguk as possible, finding a seat beside Min Yoongi, son of Hades. The pale boy gives you a weird look, probably wondering why you’re sitting beside him.

“What in Zeus’s name do you think you’re doing?” he asks, confirming your thoughts.

You feign innocence. “What do you mean?”

“Y/n, you never sit here.”

He is partially correct—you usually sit beside your own cabin or Haru—but you two are friends…right? You voice this thought to him, but Yoongi just rolls his eyes—clearly not enthused by you or Hoseok’s lyre playing. “Oh, don’t be like that, Yoongi. We are friends.”

“What have you been doing with Jeongguk?” he suddenly changes the subject, and everyone’s singing seems to fade into the background. “You two aren’t…sneaking around, are you?”

The suggestive look on Yoongi’s face would be hilarious any other moment—because he rarely shows any emotion—but you choke at his assumption instead. “Oh gods no. Why would I do something like that?”

“Beats me,” Yoongi shrugs. “All I know is you both look suspicious as fuck.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” you huff, “Jeongguk and I aren’t sneaking around. That’s disgusting.”

“Then what are you two doing coming to the campfire together?” If Yoongi doesn’t know about your punishment, then most people probably don’t know either. That brings you a little relief.

Although you don’t want everyone to know, you also don’t mind telling Yoongi. As a Hades kid, he mostly keeps to himself anyway. So, you answer his question and reveal that you actually got in trouble, which is why you’ve been spending extra time with the son of Poseidon.

“So, yeah, Chiron’s making us build teamwork skills,” you practically spit out.

Yoongi hums, eyes moving from you to glance at the fire. You take a moment to observe him, glancing at his dark hair and dark clothes. How does he manage to get away with not wearing the camp t-shirt? Maybe he just doesn’t care.

“Interesting,” is all he says.

“How so?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer your question; instead, he asks, “So, how’s it been building teamwork skills with Jeongguk?”

“I mean,” you begin, “it could be worse, I guess. Jeongguk and I usually fight all the time; but we really haven’t these last few days.”

“That’s some progress, yes?”

You nod. “I suppose.”

“Think you’ll hate the poor kid forever?” Turning your head to face him, you notice a weird expression in his eyes. You don’t really know what it means.

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. “Forever’s a long time.”

Silence passes between you after that, the both of you paying attention to Chiron’s announcements. Afterwards, more music is played, and more singing is done—some campers even get up to dance with the nymphs. Eventually, the night ends and everyone slowly begins to walk back to their cabins. You’re about to join Namjoon and the rest of Athena’s cabin when Yoongi’s voice holds you back.

“I think you should give Jeongguk a chance.”

You raise a brow at that. Is he being serious? “What?”

“He’s not as horrible as you make him seem,” Yoongi says, which causes you to roll your eyes. “I’m serious.”

“Are we talking about the same person?” You almost want to laugh. Where is this even coming from? “Because if so, you have a really different perception of Jeongguk than I do.”

“Maybe I do because I’m a child of the Big Three too, which means I empathize with him; but at the same time, you’ve only seen one side of Jeongguk—the side you want to see. The side he shows when you two are at odds.”

You think about this for a moment, but quickly shake your head. “I don’t know, Yoongi.”

“Trust me,” he says before leaving you to stand there all alone.

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todorokiaimee · 6 years

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Blues In The Night

This is the first chapter of my Todoroki x OC book. All characters are aged up. (This will be a mature story down the line.) This is my first attempt at really writing so I really hope you guys like it!

SUMMARY: Adult pro hero Todoroki falls in love with an African-American plus size woman he’s met in his favorite coffee shop. However, this Cajun Army-brat is difficult to win over but he refuses to give up on her as he helps to break down her walls. Little does he know, she’s put these walls up for a reason.

CHAPTER 1. Everything Happens to Me | Chapter Song

“Yes Father, the threat has been dealt with,” the red and white-haired man said into his cell phone as he sauntered down the busy streets of Tokyo. He had just taken out a troublesome gang with the intent to sell stolen goods. Subduing them was easy enough, but he was annoyed he had to do it in the first place. During the fall months, crime usually slows down. Unfortunately, these villains did not have the same sentiment. “You really should learn how to delegate. There are plenty of capable sidekicks at our agency. There really was no need to call me in on my day off,” he huffed.

“I am delegating. I delegated this job to you didn’t I?” Endeavor barked through the phone.

Shoto rolled his eyes and proceeded to enter his favorite coffee shop, giving a polite nod to the cashier as she looked him up and down in his hero costume. He didn’t normally like to be seen in it outside of patrols but a trip home just to change seemed inefficient. He’d just have to endure the extra stares. “I suppose. I’ll email you the full incident report tonight. Goodbye.”

“Shoto wait-.”

He hung up before his father could have a chance to finish, not wanting to spoil what he had left of his day off. A small smile graced his lips as he addressed the cashier. “My apologies. May I please have a small black coffee.”

She nodded and got to work on his coffee while he scanned the cafe. He enjoyed this particular cafe because of their open mic nights. He liked the relaxed atmosphere and also not being the center of attention for a while. Hero work had its perks, but the pitfall was always feeling like he had to maintain his hero image. Shoto was a civil servant after all. He was not only representing himself but his father by extension. Even though he and Endeavor had their issues, he was still going to be respectful if even just for the agency’s sake.

After receiving and paying for his coffee, he eyed a free booth with a good view of the stage. In the booth in front sat another cafe regular that he had seen many times before, her long black curls and rich chocolate skin catching his eye more than once. She often sat alone with a book in hand and he wondered why a woman so beautifully unique as her would be unaccompanied. Even as he wondered and walked over to his empty booth behind her, he decided not to bother her. Perhaps like him, she enjoyed the peace and quiet atmosphere alone.

As Shoto took his seat, two women unceremoniously walked into the shop, ruining any semblance of the tranquility he so craved. “Omg, you will not believe the night I had last night. Kaneki took me dancing and we like, danced and stuff. But I got soooo drunk that I kept like singing all the music at the top of my lungs! It was so hilarious!” Her nasally voice boomed through the once quiet cafe. Shoto sighed and sipped his coffee, hoping she would just settle down and find a seat, his ears perking up as he heard a soft sigh from the booth behind him.

“I love hearing you sing, girl! What are you going to sing for the open mic tonight?” The annoying mystery woman's friend inquired.

“Oh, nothing today. My vocal coach said I need to be on vocal rest since I overdid it last night. Such a shame too. I would have totally dominated,” She cackled like a witch as they both took a seat and continued their conversation.

“You’re doing it wrong,” a small voice came from behind him. In surprise, he let out a rare but small chuckle.

Aimee blushed, not realizing she said her snide comment loud enough that the man behind her could hear. She bit her plump bottom lip gently, as she tried not to break into giggles. She didn’t intend to be rude, but she just couldn’t help herself. Those two probable trust fund bimbos were talking loud enough for the whole cafe to hear their conversation. If that woman was really supposed to be on “vocal rest”, she is not going to see good results and honestly, she found that hilarious. Internally, however, she knew it was bad gris-gris to tease people, no matter how justified. She resigned to quietly sip her iced coffee in peace (or what’s left of it) because as the kids would say, “that’s none of my business.”

Just as she was about to finish her drink, she heard a low voice from behind her, “If her singing voice is anything like her speaking voice, she is perhaps doing us a kindness.” Startled and pleasantly surprised, Aimee choked on her last bit of coffee. The two loud women suddenly looking back at her “causing a scene” only made her cough and laugh more. Todoroki immediately stood from his seat and went to the ravenette’s aid, apologizing profusely. “My apologies, that was terribly rude of me. Are you alright? May I get you some water?”

Aimee shook her head, giggling through her tears as her eyes watered from the short lack of oxygen. “No, no! I’m fine. It was actually pretty funny. You just caught me off guard is all.”

Todoroki paused and took in her face as she wiped her eyes. To put it simply, she was exquisite. Her large brown almond eyes looked into his as a playful smile tugged at the corners of her full lips. Her womanly body jiggled and bounced as she laughed, a sound he wanted to never end. Looking down at her from where he stood, he noticed how her bright yellow shirt complimented her smooth dark skin and how the modest V neckline revealed her abundance of cleavage. He couldn’t help but feel a slight warmth fill his cheeks as he stared down at her. “You must have either a really good, or a really poor sense of humor to find me funny.”

As Aimee caught her breath she took a moment to really look at the duel-quirk hero. She had seen him several times before in the cafe, but never up close. He was quite tall, with lean muscle pulling against the blue fabric of his hero costume. His peppermint hair dangled in front of his eyes until he nervously brushed them aside, revealing her favorite trait. His eyes. One cool grey, one turquoise blue. The rumors were true. You could get lost in those heterochromatic orbs. He definitely lived up to the hype. Aimee was pulled out of her thoughts as Todoroki cleared his throat, awkwardly shifting his weight. “May I… join you?”

Aimee unconsciously quirked an eyebrow at him. Join me? What would a super hot (and cool) pro hero want with me? Not to be rude, she of course nodded and he slipped into the booth opposite of her after retrieving his coffee. He’s just trying to get to know his constituents, she thought. No big deal.

“I’ve seen you here a lot,” Todoroki said softly as he sipped his coffee. Aimee paused for a moment, thinking he had something to add to it. Apparently, the rumors that he was a man of few words was true as well.

“Yes…” she nodded slowly. “I have seen you as well,” she said slightly sarcastically with a small smirk tugging at her lips. “This place reminds me of back home. The live music, coffee, and sweet treats. They also have the best apple pie around, so there’s that.”

She giggled and Shoto thought it was the sweetest sound in the world. He nodded as his cool eyes locked onto hers, suddenly feeling bold. “I assumed you weren’t from here. There are not many women in Japan like you.”

“What, you mean Black?” She quirked her head to the side with wide eyes.

Shit! Todoroki’s left side abruptly erupted into flames. FUCK! Although it only lasted for a second, Shoto was so embarrassed. First, he made this gorgeous woman choke on her coffee, then he insults her, and to top it off he almost burns the poor woman! All in his sad attempt to flirt.

“Whoa! Oh my God!” Aimee shouted in shock as she instinctively pulled away.

His normally pale face flushed a deep red all the way to the tips of his ears. He hadn’t lost control of his quirk since he was a teenager. He was a goddamn adult! Scrambling to his feet he bowed deeply, spewing a plethora of hushed apologies.

Aimee blinked in surprise at the sight before her, instantly regretting her decision to tease the poor man. She never dreamed she could pull such an extreme reaction out of the usually stoic hero. Being snarky was just one of her many defense mechanisms when she felt exposed and vulnerable. And boy did the way Todoroki looked her make her feel exposed and vulnerable. In fact, she was still surprised one of the best (and hottest) pro heroes was even talking to her.

“Hey…” she reached out for his (hopefully safe) right hand. She noted it was significantly cool to the touch. “At ease soldier. I’m the one who should apologize. I was just messing with you.”

Todoroki looked down at her small soft hand, observing the contrast to his large and calloused own. He pensively looked up at her from under his bangs, only to catch her large brown orbs staring into his with an apologetic smile.

“That was a pretty impressive display of power though.” She giggled and squeezed his hand gently, encouraging him to sit back down. Todoroki nodded and took his seat sat back across from her as Aimee cleared her throat, giving everyone else in the cafe the evil eye for staring. Somehow, although she barely knows this man, she already felt the need to protect the sweet lamb from unwanted attention.

“Anyway, your assumption is right. I’m American, from New Orleans, LA specifically. I moved here when I was 13 with my Dad. He’s a Colonel in the Marines and was stationed at Camp Kinser.”

Todoroki nodded and took another sip of his coffee. “That’s a noble profession.” Aimee sighed and played with a few of her dark curls.

“It is. But as a child, I used to hate it. Having to pick up and leave everything I ever knew behind. Being thrust into a new culture. It was hard at first and I felt like my Dad didn’t understand it, or just didn’t care.”

The hero hummed in response. “I do have experience with difficult fathers.”

The look on Todoroki’s face gave her the feeling that there was a lot to unpack there but she decided not to ask. He’s been through enough for one talk anyway. “Welp, it’s pretty much all good now. We’re still not super close but I don’t get to see him often. He’s a very busy man, keeping the world safe in his own way. But you, you’re right on the front lines. What’s that like?”

Todoroki blinked rapidly, surprised to have the topic of conversation turned to him. He was hoping he could learn more about the captivating woman in front of him. “I… just do my best to help those in need.”

“You know, this is a little embarrassing, but you’re my favorite hero to watch in a fight.” Todoroki slowly set down his coffee with a confused look, sure he misheard her. “The way you move and use your quirk in a fight… even though you obviously have great power, your moments are so fluid and somehow even gentle. I mean, you rarely fight with a closed fist. You make battle look so effortless and easy. Like a dance almost.”

She likes my fighting? Who is this angel? Todoroki stared her in disbelief. He had never heard his fighting described in such a way. After years of struggling with accepting his quirk, and being called cold and distant in the tabloids, this woman called him gentle of all things. A familiar heat rose to his cheeks for the third time today and this time he didn’t really care. He looked up at her to find a similar but faint rosy color upon her cheeks. “Thank you.”

Aimee looked at her watch hummed. “Oh 20:00 already. I really should get going, my cat gets cranky when he’s hungry. As do I.” She laughed lightly and she stood up from the booth, putting on her coat. Shoto watched helplessly as she gathered her things. He didn’t want the conversation to end, but he also couldn’t be selfish and keep her there. “Well. Thank you for your service, Mr. Todoroki. And thanks for the… colorful conversation,” she said with a small smirk, turning on her heel to leave.

“Wait.” He cautiously took her hand. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

The smallest of twinkles flashed across her eyes, and it certainly didn’t go unnoticed by Shoto. “Aimee. Aimee Faurie.”

“That’s a beautiful name.”

She cheekily bit her bottom lip trying to suppress a wide smile. Aimee had already promised not to tease the man anymore, but she just couldn’t help herself. “Thank you. I got it for my birthday.”

And with that, she turned and walked away towards the cafe exit. Todoroki sat stunned for a moment, mulling over her last statement before finally letting out another rare chuckle. Although the moment his eyes locked onto her hips as she glided out the door (and shamelessly all the way down the street) he found himself stunned for an entirely different reason. “Aimee. Until we meet again.”

Chapter 2

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bibhabmishra · 5 years

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Ghostbusters

I’ve read a lot of film books and they’ve taught me a few things about how film books should be written if they are to be taken seriously, and these are lessons that I feel are as useful in life: 1. Drop in random French phrases wherever possible so it looks like you’re quoting from the French film magazine Cahiers du Cinéma, because even if you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, nobody will be able to tell; 2. When in doubt, start waffling on about Godard; 3. Never describe a film as your “favorite film.” This looks unprofessional and childish. Instead, claim—in ringing tones comme les écrivains de Cahiers du Cinéma—that it is the Greatest Film. Zut alors! Malheureusement, not all the French in the world could convince any- one that I am more interested in Godard than The Goonies, so that’s a non- starter. But I shall make use of one of these handy life lessons and state that the best, most brilliant, most extraordinary, the most deftly created piece of au- teur film work of all time is Ghostbusters. For pretty much most of my life, I’d assumed that this was a fact accepted by everybody: Ghostbusters is the greatest movie ever made. Sure, people tend to say random words like “Citizen Kane!” and “Vertigo!” when asked by Cahiers du Cinéma for their favorite film.

But I thought they did this just as, when asked who they’d like to have at their dream dinner party, they say, “Mother Teresa and Nelson Mandela!” as opposed to who everybody would actually like, which is, obviously, Madonna and Bill Murray. Now, one could take my massive assumption that my tastes reflect those of everyone else on the planet two ways: 1. I have an ego the size of Asia coupled with a narcissist’s complex and incipient sociopathic tendencies; 2. Ghostbusters is so good that even if it’s not everyone’s FAVORITE movie, it is probably in their top ten and so whenever I mention my love of Ghostbusters people say, “Oh yeah, everyone loves Ghostbusters.” For the purposes of this chapter, we will go with option 2. I never thought of my Ghostbusters obsession—and it is, I fully admit, an obsession—as remarkable. If anything, I saw it as a perfectly natural response to a great work of art. Devoting an entire shelf to books and articles by or about the people involved, however tangentially, in the making of this movie? Com- mendable intellectual curiosity. Spending two hundred dollars on a book about Ghostbusters that came out the year the film was released, just because it finally explains why the character of Winston is squeezed out of the movie? Hey, that’s an investment piece! Refusing to go on a second date with someone be- cause they failed to recognize a completely random (and not, to be honest, wildly relevant) Ghostbusters quote over dinner?I Well, why waste time with losers? It wasn’t until I found myself awake at 2 a.m. at the age of thirty-three on a Tuesday scrolling through eBay in search of a rumored copy of Bill Mur- ray’s original Ghostbusters script, which obviously was not going to be on eBay, that I felt it might be time to look at what, precisely, was going on here and why, after all this time, Ghostbusters still feels so special, maybe even more spe- cial, to me. There is sentimentality, for sure, not exactly for my childhood but for the city of my childhood. Ghostbusters is as much a love letter to New York as any- thing by Woody Allen, and a less self-conscious one at that, showing New Yorkers reacting with relative normality to an invasion of the undead.II Many of the jokes in Ghostbusters stem from the idea that, ghosts aside, Manhattan it- self is an out-of-control Wild West place, a Gotham city where a man could collapse against the windows of the Tavern on the Green, the ritzy restaurant that used to be in Central Park, and the diners would simply ignore him. Trash is piled on the sidewalks and Checker cabs whizz around corners: this re- creation of New York, 1984—the New York of my childhood—is still how I think of the city, even though it has, for better or worse, changed a lot since then. Even the hilarious anachronisms give me a sentimental frisson: Louis being mocked for his love of vitamins and mineral water; Ray and Peter snarfing down cigarettes while toting nuclear reactors on their backs; Larry King in a cloud of cigarette smoke while chatting drily on the radio; the bad guy being the man from the Environmental Protection Agency. These all look particularly out of date in the Manhattan of today, and I can’t help but feel the city is a little poorer for it. But my absolute favorite New Yorky moment in the film is at the end, when a doorman brings Ecto1 round after the Ghostbusters have saved the world—or at least Central Park West—from destruction. Despite having battled a giant marshmallow man, Dan Aykroyd still has a couple of dollar bills in the pocket of his ghost uniform with which to tip the doorman. You cannot get more New York than that. But there is something else in Ghostbusters that makes me sentimental, something else that I love in it that doesn’t exist anymore. That is, its depiction of how a man should be. • • • Just in terms of sheer variety, one could do a lot worse than turn to eighties movies for lessons in how to be a man. When most people think of mas- culinity in eighties movies, they probably think of that strange genre that sprouted and bulged up in that decade like Popeye’s biceps after eating spinach, consisting of men who look like condoms stuffed with walnutsIII speaking their lines in confused accents and emphasizing random syllables, strongly suggesting they’d learned the words phonetically: Schwarzenegger, Lundgren, Stallone,IV and, toward the end of the decade, Van Damme. Chuck Norris, too, can be included here, despite his lack of walnutness, but he earns membership in this group with his similar lack of obvious acting talent and strong fondness for right-wing messages in his films.V But there is more to eighties men than that. For a start, there are the men who raise babies and children (Mr. Mom, Three Men and a Baby, Uncle Buck), which some feminist critics argued at the time was a backlash against femi- nism because the films seemed to mock the idea of feminized men. In fact, in retrospect, these films look more like movies awkwardly coming to grips with feminism (Tootsie, too, can be included here, with a man pre- tending to be a woman, and occasionally looking after a child, and becoming a better person for it). Mr. Mom (1983), in which Michael Keaton loses his job and looks after the kids while his wife works, is clearly none too sure what to make of this “feminist” thing: the movie’s message is that the swapping of traditional gender roles will probably destroy the marriage and almost certainly the house (somewhat dismayingly, the film was written by John Hughes). But by 1987, Three Men and a Baby was getting much more of a handle on things. The men (Tom Selleck, Steve Guttenberg, and Ted Danson) are unex- pectedly lumbered with a baby girl and, by the end of the film, very much want her to stay with them in their bachelor shag pad, even after the baby’s dippy English (foreigners—tchuh!) mother turns back up. It turns out that, unlike Mr. Mom, they are capable of looking after a baby without causing havoc to domestic appliances (men—amirite??). The men in Three Men and a Baby are

notably much less obnoxious than les mecs in the original French version, Trois Hommes et un Couffin, who have a pact never to let a woman stay more than one night in their flat and have a tendency to call the baby “a swine” when it has an accident on the sofa. Ahh, les Français—ils sont tres masculins, ooh la la!VI Which is not to say that the American version is without its anxieties. Three Men and a Baby goes to such lengths in order to reassure audiences of the übermasculinity of the three guys, despite their TERRIFYINGLY FEMINIZED baby-raising skills, that they become hilariously camp. Peak camp is reached, for me, when Selleck goes out jogging wearing little more than a tiny pair of shorts and an enormous mustache, and he picks up a sports magazine full of photos of muscled-up half-naked men. Now, if that isn’t the definition of throbbing heterosexual masculinity, I don’t know what is. Yes, the eighties were a different time and American movies in that era seemed to think that homosexual was merely Latin for “psycho killer or flouncy interior decorator.” But nonetheless, whenever I watch this movie (which is more often than I’m going to commit to print) I think it’s a shame the director (who was the late Leonard Nimoy, very pleasingly) didn’t just go with the obvi- ous option here and make the guys gay, living in a happy yuppie ménage à trois. After all, this would explain why three apparently very solvent guys in high- flying careersVII in their thirties would choose to share an apartment in mid- town Manhattan as opposed to getting their own American Psycho–style bach- elor pads. And for heaven’s sake, have you looked at that Broadway-themed mural Steve Guttenberg paints of the three of them in the atrium of their apart- ment? No amount of references from Selleck to his love of sport can obscure the fact he and his two friends are living in the campiest New York apartment north of Fourteenth Street. These guys—the actor! the architect! the car- toonist!—are basically the eighties yuppie version of the Village People. And let’s talk about that homoeroticism! Accidental homoeroticism is yet another one of the great joys of eighties movies, and it was the last decade that would be blessed with the pleasure because from the nineties onward, gay cul- ture and references would be too mainstream and recognizable to slip past studios unnoticed. The plethora of eighties buddy movies easily and frequently tip into acci- dental homoeroticism, with the female characters being explicitly excluded from pretty much the whole film and all sorts of intense emotion between the two male leads. Lethal Weapon is one example and an even more obvious one is Stakeout, in which Emilio Estevez and Richard Dreyfuss spend an entire movie living together in faux domesticity and, in the case of Estevez, voyeuris- tically spying on his male partner’s sexual encounters. The Lost Boys is the most blatantly homoerotic mainstream movie ever made for teenage boys. In this film, young Michael (charisma vortex Jason Patric) is initiated into the manly life of a new town by going into a cave with Kiefer Sutherland and his male buddies (none of whom seems the least bit interested in the fact that a half-naked Jami Gertz is wandering around drunk- enly in front of them) and drinking their body fluids. Sure, why not, right? Vam- pires are inherently homoerotic and the director Joel Schumacher (who later homoeroticized Batman—not difficult, admittedly—by sticking nipples on the batsuit) revels in the connection in this movie in a way Twilight later deter- minedly, somewhat dismayingly avoids. Michael does at some point have what looks like deeply unsatisfying sex with Jami Gertz, but the person he gazes at with the most intensity is young Jack Bauer. And I haven’t even mentioned that Michael’s little brother Sam (Corey Haim), who dresses like he’s trying out for Wham!, has a poster on the door of his closet of Rob Lowe lifting up his shirt. Because sure, why not, right?

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lunamusings · 4 years

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Gravity Well

Chapter 7: The Dual Abyss

A Loki x Lithium Fanfiction (CanonxOC)

Set before the events of Thor, Loki receives as large mysterious crate of alcohol the day before his birthday. What seems like a strange yet benign gift from an anonymous person ends up being more than he, or the woman at the bottom of the crate bargained for.

Chapter Warnings: Loki dwells on cleavage for a hot second, old people accuse Loki of assault in vague terms

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki could not place the exact time it happened but he was certain it did.

He had been actively putting it out of his mind, using his work as the new king as an excuse not to dwell on where his thoughts took him. This was not that difficult, considering his father and brother both left him with a realm on the brink of war. Even in the warrior culture that was Asgard, there was still a great deal that was required to handle this in a way that did not incur tremendous costs.

The moment Lithium floated into the hall with his mother though, waiting for the beginning of a small ceremony that would serve as his coronation, bedecked in a deep shimmering charcoal gray with that brilliant green lining in her long, floating sleeves, all excuses for ignoring what was happening inside him made a mad dash through the nearest set of curtains and into the world. His face was schooled into a polite smile befitting the arrival of his mother and his friend, rather than the awed lopsided grin that existed behind the mask.

Such resplendence is perfectly befitting the woman who should be my queen.

Wait…what?

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and smiled at both women in his life, looking much like sagely day and bewitching night had come watch him take the king's vows. He had been perfectly composed until their approach, and now his palms seemed to be sweating, which did nothing for his grip on Gungnir.

Frigga reached over and adjusted his collar. "It's okay to be nervous."

Had it been anyone but his mother saying this, he would have been confident that the true nature of his unsettled condition was hidden. Frigga saw far more than anyone else he knew so she could either genuinely think him to be nervous, or she could know exactly what vexed him, and may have picked Lithium's dress just to exacerbate the issue.

His money was on the latter, given that carefully chosen hues and neckline with the exact depth of plunge to be enticing, but not so much that she would be considered immodest.

People often wondered where his cunning and trickery came from. They clearly did not know Frigga.

He sighed softly, rolling his shoulders. They seemed to hold his arms heavily as of late. There was so much to work through, that even this small ceremony seemed like just one more obstacle between himself and the hours of preparation needed to bring Asgard back into a safe state. Once that was done, he could rest. He could even hand the kingship back without regrets when his father woke. Maybe then, Odin would be proud of him. He would succeed in doing what Thor had not.

Loki followed Lithium with his eyes as she slipped through the door to take her place in the crowd. She glanced back at him for a brief moment with a bright smile before the guard closed the door behind her. He took one last deep breath and let it out slowly before holding out his hand to his mother.

She took it with a knowing smile. "You wish it was Lithium here with you."

"Whatever do you mean?" Loki's voice was steady, but he knew the moment he looked away, even with how brief it was, that he gave himself away.

"Don't worry my son, you secret is safe with me." Frigga grinned. "Shall we begin then?"

Loki nodded toward the guards to open the door.

Lithium was still standing in her place when the others in attendance had already filed out. He had given the ceremony his full attention, so he was lost on why, the moment everyone else was out of sight, her hands balled into fists, every muscle tensed and her shoulders began shaking. She looked up at him and only when their eyes met did the snarl ease from her face.

He was down the stairs in seconds.

"What's wrong?" He put a hand on one of her trembling shoulders.

She looked up at him, eyes glimmering with fresh tears. "I wanted to punch the smug, self-righteous sneers off of the face of everyone around me…"

"Whatever for?" He let go of her shoulder and took her hand, feeling the trembling start anew. He tucked it into the crook of his arm.

"They were whispering all kinds of terrible things." She followed his gentle tug on her arm and fell in step with him. "About you…"

Loki sighed. To say he was used to such things would be an understatement, but Lithium had only been there a little over a month and had met few people she spent much time with. There were people present who had no idea who she was or to whom she was attached. He was not surprised in the least she heard every doubt and fear muttered by those around her, given her bizarrely keen sense of hearing.

"I am sorry you had to listen to that." He paused to nod to the guard who opened the door to the long balcony just outside the hall for them. "There are those who do not approve of my kingship. Some are more vocal about that than others and most unfortunately, you were likely in a substantial group of those individuals."

They stood at the railing, Loki reluctantly letting go of her hand and she leaned her arms on the railing. They watched a flock of small, jewel-toned birds flow through the air, their freedom in altitude in contrast to the weight of the silence. Then Lithium looked up at him, her face soft yet serious.

"People are entitled to their opinion, sure." Her jaw tightened before she continued. "But they have no excuse for what they were saying…how could they think you would bring Asgard to ruin? Or somehow at least cause the downfall of traditional values?"

She chuckled wryly, her serious expression cracking at little. "Also apparently I'm multiple women, a whole "collection of ill-used women to sate your lascivious proclivities", and your dressing each of me similarly so no one will notice."

“Lascivious proclivities?” Loki blinked repeatedly, before letting his face fall into his hands. "That would explain the downfall of traditional values. You were surrounded by the more elderly guests."

"Funny that they attribute that to you, when Fandral is a million percent more likely to have a harem." She pantomimed gagging. "Though the man has the worst pick-up lines, so it wouldn't be particularly large."

Loki turned away for a moment, disguising the fullness of his laugh into one hand. While she underestimated the effect Fandral's "pick-up lines" because she laughed in his face the first time he directed them at her, the former part of her assessment was accurate.

"Maybe I should be flattered that they thought me capable of such feat of charm, given the that Thor and Fandral have never been short on such attention, and I am different type of person."

Dark, sullen, effeminate, untrustworthy, deviant…and now a monster…

Lithium shook her head. "I wish it had been more complimentary. They were already predicting succession difficulties with all the bastard children you've supposedly made already."

That would be quite the revelation when these fictional children came out blue…

The ridiculousness of these accusations and rumors would have been genuinely hilarious had they not also been suggesting unsavory things of her. While Asgard was not particularly strict about intimacy outside of marriage relationships, it was strongly encouraged to be responsible about it. It was frowned upon to make children out of the context of a committed relationship. With protective measures for all involved in the making in abundance, there was little excuse for bastard children.

And Lithium had no idea about the implications for herself.

"I apologize for their unfounded assumptions about your character."

Lithium's eyebrow raised and she shrugged. "I can't exactly rate having your kid in an unconventional context among the top million bad things that could happen to me. My problem is that they assume that you would use magic on people to get what you want in that manner."

She rolled her eyes. "As if you would need to do that."

Loki stared at her as she watched another flock of birds pass them. After a few moments, she turned back to him, her expression mirroring the confusion that was on his own face. She tilted her head, blinking a few times.

"Whatever do you mean, Lithium?"

"I don't know what the stereotypical preferences are around here, but on Earth, you would not be short on attention, regardless of gender." A strange expression flitted across her face, just behind the earnest one. "And I just made this conversation awkward…."

The only thing awkward is that yours is the attention I want, little lady…

Lithium gestured broadly with a wry grin. "Regardless, at least we aren’t alone as the subjects of ol' rumor mill."

I rather would be. I'm used to this.

"I am more concerned that they think such things about you, merely by associating with me."

"Loki, this is small potatoes compare to my brother hitting on me."

He looked sternly down at her. "Both are equally terrible…also…small potatoes?”

"Well, then stop downplaying the fact that they are saying horrible things about you." She gave him an equally stern look right back. "I don't care if you're used to it, lies are lies. Lies are big potatoes.”

He nodded with a sigh. Perhaps I can confide in her and it will take the sting out of their jabs. She listens at least.

And why potatoes?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lithium stayed beside Loki as the cracks began to form, so she continued to as the cracks multiplied, an untold number of fissures across his soul. His mask was impeccable but not so much that she did not see the quickening swirl of emotion that shone through it. She did her best to fill them in when she could, but only a couple hours around dinner were not sufficient to undo the damage being done. She was nowhere near qualified to put a whole man back together by herself, let alone one who had over a thousand years of emotional damage.

And it was not like anyone else could see it.

Not even Frigga seemed concerned, so sure of his abilities as she was. Lithium was sure he had the capacity to lead, but she also had to be realistic about what she was seeing. Loki has a great head for this, but he had been off ever since he was made king. She was positive something else happened that day, something beyond his father falling into Odinsleep or Thor's banishment..

Something that rattled him to the core.

She sat on the couch in her sitting area, dinner waiting for the two them. He had not been in when the maids tried to deliver it, so they brought it to her. It had not been that long since they had, but she was still beginning to worry. Where had he gone that it would take him this long to come back? He had sent her back to her room after lunch to deal with some matters she did not need to be involved in.

But for him to be this late was not remotely in the realm of normal.

All thoughts of dinner drained from her mind the moment she felt the air shift about her. That same sharp cold scent in the air she remembered not so long ago, at Thor's interrupted coronation. She was out her door so quickly, she barely remembered if her feet touched the floor.

The smell had all but died by the time it led to the chamber where Odin slept. She was there in time to watch Loki blast Thor, of all people, through a wall in a room scattered with the remains of large blue men. Loki turned to her at the sound of her gasp and she saw it.

Lithium did not know the face that looked back her. The feral energy of his green eyes sent a shiver of dread down her spine. It took all her strength not to step back when he approached her. Just past her instincts screaming at her to run, she heard the voice telling her to stay, that if she abandoned him now, there was no going back for him.

Loki had completely shattered.

There was the smallest glimmer of who he was within the chaotic depths of his eyes when they met hers, but so quickly was it swallowed again by the colliding pieces of his decimated soul. She knew that look, that face all too well. She had seen it before.

She had worn it before.

She took a deep breath as he crossed the last bit of tile between them, leaving only a modest sliver of space. "Loki wha-"

Her feet were out from underneath her in one smooth flash of movement and they were through the corridors. All she could see was a blur of upside down stone and metal. The snarky side of her brain pondered the indignity of being carried over his shoulder past confused servants, but the rest of it was still trying to figure out if there was anything she could do for him.

According to him, apparently whatever that was included a brisk horse ride to the Observatory, with her holding on for dear life. She pressed her face into his cape and let her mind slip into her meditative state she used with her shift practice, though that snarky side of her refused to go there.

This is not at all how I pictured my first horseback ride with a man…there were more scenic forest trails and less mental breakdowns…

Just outside the observatory, he dismounted and put his hands around her waist to help her down. Her face was burning red by the time he had her feet back on the ground, all the more so when it felt so wrong to be thinking such things while Loki was falling apart in front of her.

"Apologies for the sudden trip, but time is not a luxury I have at this moment."

"What's wrong, Loki? What happened to you?"

"Do not worry, little lady, I am going to punish Jotunheim for their attempt to kill my father."

Lithium frowned. "You can't go alone."

"I have no need to go there." He gestured toward the Observatory. "I have everything I need right here to end their treachery for good."

Lithium once again forced herself to stand and face him, but her knees nearly buckled under her. Wasn't this the exact thing that he had criticized Thor for wanting to do? Wasn't it only a little while ago that he said that he wanted to keep Asgard out of unnecessary conflict?

Then again, Odin banished Thor for treason…not genocide…

"Loki, is this really what you want to do?" She fell in step with him as he strode confidently into the control room of the Observatory, where Heimdall was suspiciously absent.

Loki stepped up on the platform. "What else would make Father proud of me? I have saved his life, and now I shall exact revenge on the people who dared attempt to take his life."

Lithium's eyes flew open. "They did that? How did the get here? IS that why Heimdall is gone?"

The silence he lapsed into was all the answer she needed, but his eyes said more. He activated the Bifrost with the sword Heimdall would have used had he been there, a tree of cold white light erupting from the pedestal. Loki stepped back, admiring it, while it sent shivers skittering up her spine. The sound it gave off set her teeth on edge, eased only by her pressing her hands to her ears.

No words passed between them before Thor blasted into the room.

#loki #loki friggason #loki of asgard #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #canon x oc #loki x lithium

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newssplashy · 6 years

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Opinion: The iGen Shift: Colleges must change to reach the next generation

They are, of course, superconnected. But on their terms. Which is why college-bound iGens (Gen Zers, if you prefer) present a challenge to the grown-ups on campus eager to reach and teach them.

Consider orientation season. Katie Sermersheim, dean of students at Purdue University, has a mother lode of information and resources to share (including wellness initiatives and a new mindfulness room). But getting iGen’s attention?

“It can be frustrating slash extra challenging to figure out how to get the word out, whatever that word is,” Sermersheim said. “I do get discouraged.”

A generation that rarely reads books or emails, breathes through social media, feels isolated and stressed but is crazy driven and wants to solve the world’s problems (not just volunteer) is now on campus. Born from 1995 to 2012, its members are the most ethnically diverse generation in history, said Jean Twenge, psychology professor at San Diego State University.

They began arriving at colleges a few years ago, and they are exerting their presence. They are driving shifts, subtle and not, in how colleges serve, guide and educate them, sending presidents and deans to Instagram and Twitter.

They are forcing course makeovers, spurring increased investments in mental health — from more counselors and wellness messages to campaigns drawing students to nature (hug a tree, take a break to look at insects) — and pushing academics to be more hands-on and job-relevant.

They are a frugal but ambitious lot, less excited by climbing walls and en suite kitchens than by career development.

Most critically, they expect to be treated as individuals. Students raised amid the tailored analytics of online retailers or college recruiters presume that anything put in front of them is customized for them, said Thomas Golden of Capture Higher Ed, a Lexington, Kentucky, data firm. He sees group designations evolving into “segments of one.”

Students want to navigate campus life, getting food or help, when it is convenient for them. And, yes, on their mobile devices or phones. “It’s not really technology to them,” said Cory Tressler, associate director of learning programs at Ohio State University, noting that the iPhone came out when most were in grade school.

It is why Ohio State this year, rather than battle device use, issued iPads to 11,000 incoming students. The school designated 42 fall courses “iPad required” (21 more will be added in the spring) and is building an app that in addition to maps and bus routes has a course planner, grades, schedules and a Get Involved feature displaying student organizations.

In the works is more customization, so when students open the app it knows which campus they are enrolled at, their major and which student groups they belong to.

Speaking to students on their terms just makes sense, said Nicole Kraft, a journalism professor at Ohio State who takes attendance via Twitter (she has separate hashtags for each of her three courses). She posts assignments on Slack, an app used in many workplaces. And she holds office hours at 10 p.m. via the video conference site Zoom, “because that is when they have questions.”

Kraft does not use email for class, except to teach students how to write a “proper” one. “That is a skill they need to have,” she said.

While these students are called “digital natives,” they still must be taught how to use devices and apps for academic purposes, Kraft said. She’s had students not know that they could use Microsoft Word on an iPad. “We make a lot of assumptions about what they know how to do.”

Campuses have been slow to recognize that this age group is not millennials, version 2.0.

“IGen has a different flavor,” said Twenge of San Diego State University and author of “iGen: Why Today’s Super-Connected Kids Are Growing Up Less Rebellious, More Tolerant, Less Happy — and Completely Unprepared for Adulthood — and What That Means for the Rest of Us.”

It is tricky to define a large part of the population. But Twenge said big data sets revealed broad psychological patterns shared by those coming of age amid defining social, cultural and economic events.

The difference between growing up in the prosperous 1990s versus seeing family members lose jobs and homes during the 2008 recession alters one’s perspective, she said. It is why iGens are so focused on debt and insist they get skills and experiences that will lead to a career.

The prevalence of school shootings and domestic terrorism has also shaped them.

“This generation defies the stereotypes of young adults,” in terms of risk-taking, Twenge said. They are “more receptive to messages around safety” and less eager to get driver’s licenses, and they come to college “with much less experience with sex and alcohol.”

They are also more cautious when it comes to academics, fear failure and have learning preferences distinct from millennials, said Corey Seemiller, professor at Wright State University and co-author of “Generation Z Goes to College,” who queried 1,200 students on 50 campuses.

“They do not like to learn in groups,” favor videos over static content and like to think about information, then be walked through it to be certain they have it right.

“They want a model” and then to practice, said Seemiller, who posts samples when assigning a paper. “I’ll say, ‘Let’s look through them and see what works.'” Having grown up with public successes and failures online, she said, students are hungry to have a big impact, yet “worry they will not live up to that expectation.”

And despite their digital obsession, Seemiller’s research shows this generation favors visual, face-to-face communication over texting. They are not always good at live social interaction, but they crave it. “They want authenticity and transparency,” she said. “They like the idea of human beings being behind things.”

As a generation that “has been sold a lot of stuff,” said Seemiller, iGens are shrewd consumers of the tone and quality of communication. That’s pushing colleges to focus not only on what they say but also how they say it.

Which is what orientation leaders and staffers in Princeton’s office of the dean of undergraduate students — known on social media as ODUS — have tried to master in the way they welcome the Class of 2022.

A brainstorming session in March generated what became a Princetified cover of Taylor Swift’s “22,” a video with orientation leaders and ODUS staff members as extras, a cappella groups singing the score and Nicolas Chae, a sophomore, directing.

Cody Babineaux, an incoming freshman from Lafayette, Louisiana, whose video of his acceptance to Princeton has 4.6 million Twitter views, appreciated it, especially the Harvard shirt sniffed and tossed out in the first 20 seconds. “It was hilarious,” he said. “It didn’t try too hard.”

Getting student attention and keeping it matters to administrators trying to build excitement for campus events but also in prodding students about housing contracts and honor codes. “We are an office that enforces university standards. We can’t be firing off,” said Thomas Dunne, deputy dean of undergraduate students. “But you have to be animated and human-sounding. Our voice is very personal.”

ODUS has become an active presence on Facebook, Instagram, YouTube and Twitter with a vibe that winks, pokes, weaves in memes and slang terms like BAE (before anyone else) and on fleek (flawlessly styled), and applies hashtags with wit (a free ice cream for dropping by the ODUS office with dance moves worthy of Dean Dunne? #GetServed, #GameOfCones).

Dunne, whose Facebook page began as a student prank without his knowledge more than a decade ago, leans on staff members who include 20-somethings. One, Ian Deas, who favors Snapchat, identifies student “influencers,” following them on Facebook and Instagram.

In posts, he looks for “those trendy phrases that help us stay in the conversation.” When ODUS staff members respond to student posts, it amplifies their reach. “When we are being interactive, our stuff pops up in other people’s feeds” and drives curiosity about “who is behind the voice.”

Being social on social media attracts students who might tune out official communication. Babineaux said he and his friends noted when college posts sounded “goofy” or “like your grandfather trying to say swag.”

He also notices that his generation is criticized “because we are always on our phones,” which gets interpreted as being disconnected. In fact, he said, “we just have more connection with everyone all the time.”

It is also how students like Babineaux learn and get information.

“Social media has helped me get a lot more prepared for Princeton,” he said, adding that he has scrolled through old posts of campus (“I have never seen snow”) and watched videos, including of graduation. “I thought, ‘That will be on my Instagram page in four years.'”

——From Nature to Instagram

By Laura Pappano

Innovative ways that some colleges and universities are engaging their iGen students.

GET DOWN WITH NATURE

At Wellesley College, Suzanne Langridge, director of the new Paulson Ecology of Place Initiative, invited students to look at insects and to adopt trees. Students need technology, but Langridge wants them to “connect more deeply to each other and to a sense of place.”

PHOTOS OR IT DIDN’T HAPPEN

So what if the college president hauls boxes on the day freshmen move in? Without images, it’s a rumor. Which is why John Swallow, president of Carthage College in Kenosha, Wisconsin, will be dressed to help come Sept. 2. He’ll want pictures for his Instagram. He joined the site in September and runs it himself (with advice from his daughter). #picsoryoudontexist

MENTAL WELLNESS

Last fall, Ohio State University opened the Stress Management & Resiliency Training Lab. During 40-minute sessions, students learn mindfulness and deep-breathing techniques to lower anxiety while hooked up to a biofeedback monitor so “they can see in real time how their body reacts to reducing stress,” said Damon Drew, a graduate associate who helps run the lab.

TEACHING IGENS

Daniel Guberman of Purdue’s Center for Instructional Excellence has worked with colleagues to help professors revamp 400 courses to be more engaging, include video and choice for students to show what they know. College is no longer “about identifying the best students,” he said, but presuming “all of these students are here because they are capable of succeeding.”

TOOLS, NOT AMENITIES

The country club era is over as students are “more acutely aware of who is paying for that,” said Raymond Maggi, an architect who has built more than 20 student life projects on college campuses over the past decade. That means shared, fluid and public spaces for tutoring and meeting. Libraries need cafes, he said, and academic departments need lounges with “comfortable seats and cafe tables” with writable surfaces.

source http://www.newssplashy.com/2018/08/opinion-igen-shift-colleges-must-change_4.html

#News

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newssplashy · 6 years

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