#i sent the post to the other TAs and they suspected the same thing

[dreaminterlude]

i had to talk to a student today that might have been using chatgpt to write their discussion posts 😵‍💫

[renjuseyo]

I'm the one that ask about poly. I want to make request now if you're okay with it about male reader jihoon and seungcheol. Seungcheol being jealous when reader babied jihoon even though Seungcheol get it most of the time. While jihoon hate it when reader doing that but only whine and do nothing at all. Reader didn't stop because he know Jihoon enjoy it and also watching Seungcheol pouting and making a fuss is one of his entertainment.

pay attention to me ; s.coups & woozi

group: seventeen

pairing: choi seungcheol / lee jihoon / reader (male)

synopsis: just because seungcheol’s dating you two doesn’t make him less jealous when you direct your attention to jihoon, even if he always receives your pampering.

genre: fluff

i hope you liked this anon! i think this is a very cute prompt, and i had fun playing with jicheol’s dynamics. i kind of lost inspo if you couldn’t tell though lol... anyways, feedback is always appreciated!! ^^

age order goes as: seungcheol > reader > jihoon

jihoon: i won’t be home until late, so don’t wait up for me [11:58 PM]

that was sent to you and seungcheol four hours ago. seeing how seungcheol had gotten off work at a decent time (if you consider ten-thirty decent) compared to usual, you had assumed it would be the same for jihoon, too. apparently not.

normally, by the time the clock strikes three am, you would be fast asleep, squished between seungcheol and jihoon. but instead, you’re parking your car outside of the pledis building, with seungcheol struggling to stay awake in the passenger seat. “you know, i could’ve driven here instead,” the older offers, yawning.

you roll your eyes, pushing your door open. “don’t be ridiculous. you can barely keep your eyes open, and you’ve worked all day. driving is the least i could do.”

you two step out of your car. after locking it, you begin walking towards the studio. the dim glow of the lamp posts and the faint twinkle of the stars are your only guides to the entryway, and you’re reminded once again just how late it is when you take in your surroundings. not a single sound can be heard, and the sky above you is blanketed black. what in the world is jihoon doing so late?

(well, there’s only one thing he could be doing this late. but most importantly, why? the members of seventeen are supposed to have the weekend off, so he has plenty of time to finish up any projects.)

once seungcheol unlocks the door, you two trudge inside, yawning. it takes a few minutes for you both to find jihoon’s studio, but it isn’t hard to spot. in the dark hallway, there’s only one room lit up, with a blue, fluorescent light splashing its walls. you glance at the small window, and just as you had suspected, your boyfriend is perched on his chair, hunched over his desktop.

luckily his door isn’t locked, so seungcheol twists the doorknob and pulls it open. the intrusion startles jihoon, evident by the way he flinches in his seat. when he spins around, you frown at the weary look on his face. the bright blue of his room highlights his eye bags, and you can see him struggling to stay awake. “what are you two doing here? you should be asleep,” he says.

you stride towards him, eyebrows furrowed. “that’s what we should be saying. do you have any idea what time it is? you’re supposed to be at home with us.” seungcheol nods in agreement, probably too tired to engage himself in a conversation.

“not until i finish this,” the younger protests, gesturing at his monitor. you peek behind him to look at what’s pulled up, and unsurprisingly, there’s a new project loaded up, probably one of the songs he’s working on for seventeen’s next album. “management said i have to get this done by next week.” he glances at the clock. “plus, it’s only three am. i’ve had less sleep.”

“by less sleep you mean no sleep,” you correct, propping your hands on your hips. you almost look the part of a disappointed parent. “that’s so bad for you, you know.”

“hoon, we have this weekend off. you can work on it then,” seungcheol replies, yawning. “come sleep with us. anyone with a pair of eyes can tell that you’re tired.”

jihoon rolls his eyes, but the yawn that leaves his throat is evidence enough. “i’m just fine. i already downed a whole bottle of soda, anyways.”

you tiredly trudge over to him, tugging at his sleeve. he raises a questioning eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything as you drag him over to the couch by the wall. “hoonie, you’ve been up since six am. it’s not good for babies to sleep so late.”

he flushes at the implications, frowning. it ends up looking more like a pout, though, further proving your point. “i’m not a baby. you’re acting like one right now,” he protests.

you pull him onto the couch, arms trapping him. “but you’re the youngest, so you’re the baby. right, cheol?”

instead of agreeing with you, the oldest of you three pouts, flopping down beside you. “that’s no fair, (name). both hoonie and i worked today, so why are you only babying him?” he whines. for someone who’s supposed to be the oldest, he sure craves attention like a child.

you wave a dismissive hand, scooting over so seungcheol has more room. this causes you and jihoon to squish even closer together, and as discomforting as it is for all three of you, no one makes any moves to go to a more comfortable area. but then again, you three usually wound up like this more often than not, so you all stopped minding altogether. “hush, cheol. we cuddled for like, an hour when we were home. hoonie hasn’t had anyone to take care of him yet.”

jihoon rolls his eyes, pressed against your chest. “i’m right here, you know.” as much as he dislikes skinship, he’s too tired to move, and your embrace is comforting, though he’d never admit it.

you hum, snuggling closer to him. “lack of sleep makes babies grouchy. you can worry about your project tomorrow.”

“but-”

“don’t talk back to the adults,” you murmur, dozing off, pressing your forehead against his.

jihoon grumbles, though he doesn’t try to move. “this is crazy. i’m only a year younger than you and seungcheol-hyung. what do you mean don’t talk back to the adults?” he snorts.

when you don’t respond, he can only assume you’ve fallen asleep. he rolls his eyes and cranes his neck to peek at seungcheol. his eyes are also fluttering close, arms firmly wrapped around your waist. sometimes he wonders why you call him the baby when seungcheol is right there, constantly whining for your affection. if anything, he’s the baby of you three.

seeing how he can’t wriggle his way out of here (not that he would. drinking a whole bottle of coke-cola has done nothing to lift his drowsiness), he can do nothing but surrender to your clutches and lay limp in your arms. he closes his eyes in an attempt to fall asleep, but hearing your voice in his head makes it a tad difficult.

you’re the youngest, so you’re the baby~

jihoon huffs, glaring at you, who’s oblivious to his piercing eyes. “says the one who always needs to hug something before he sleeps,” he quietly grumbles, poking your cheek.

to his surprise, the subtle motion is enough to stir you awake, and he feels himself heat up when your eyes flutter open. even when you’re tired, you still manage to look breathtaking. “go to sleep, hoonie,” you remind again before dozing back asleep.

when jihoon glances at the clock, the white, neon digits show him that it’s nearly four am. so this is what he ends up doing, but not because you told him to.

jihoon knows that despite your constant babying, you recognize that he’s a functioning adult who’s more than capable of handling responsibilities. even more than you, he might argue. you just have an affectionate nature and make it your sole duty to take care of everyone around you, even if they’re older than you, like seungcheol. plus, you just like calling those younger than you babies. if it weren’t for the fact that you’re only a few months older than him, he would’ve thought you were the oldest of you three.

though he claims to despise your affectionate nature, he’s thankful to have your presence, especially around him and seungcheol. he knows that as the leader of one of the biggest boy groups - both metaphorically and physically - the stress is undoubtedly more burdensome than the ones the other members have. he knows that seungcheol spends more time structuring himself as a strong leader and wise oldest member than as a twenty-five-year-old man who likes music and video-games. which is why he’s grateful that you’re around to give him the pampering and leisure he deserves, reminding him that it’s okay to be taken care of sometimes.

he isn’t mad that you direct most of your pampering at seungcheol. if anything, he’s more than happy, because now you’re there to give him the attention he complains about when he can’t. your presence, for a lack of better words, acts as a balance for you three. but there are times where you choose to baby (read: pester) him, simply because he’s the youngest and needs attention once in a while. your words, not his.

now is one of those moments.

jihoon blinks, staring at the shoe box perched on the table before him. he looks at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you gesture at the shoe box in a flourish, widely grinning like a child who’s won candy. “ta-da!” you exclaim. seungcheol, who had been immersed with a mobile game, is now looking his way, curiously staring at the box. judging from his expression, he guesses he doesn’t know what the contents are, either.

“and what exactly am i looking at?” he asks.

“open it!” you exclaim.

he does as he’s told, lifting up the lid of the box. to his surprise, they’re a pair of black slide-ons. he remembers eyeing a pair a week ago at a mall he had gone to with you and soonyoung, but had dismissed the thought after seeing the number shopping bags soonyoung had on each arm. he isn’t sure if you remembered or if this is a mere coincidence. either way, he’s surprised you bought him a pair of shoes out of the blue.

“what!” seungcheol exclaims. he throws his phone onto the couch, the device bouncing on the cushions. he walks towards you, instantly wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “you bought shoes for hoonie, but not for me?”

you roll your eyes. “cheol, you’re the one giving people your credit card information. you’re quite capable of buying your own shoes... actually, you’d buy them, unprompted.”

“but it’s different when it’s a gift,” he whines. “i want you to buy me shoes, too.”

ignoring your whiny boyfriend, you gesture at the sandals. “i saw you looking at them when we were at the mall with soonyoung last week! i know you don’t have a lot of time to go shopping, so i bought them for you,” you explain.

jihoon frowns. he’s the one practically swimming in a pool of money, so he should be the one buying you nice things, not the other way around. “oh... you didn’t have to.”

when he looks up at you, he sees the excitement vanish from your face, being replaced with a pout. seeing you like that makes him wonder why he and seungcheol never try babying you, especially when you have the audacity to look as cute as you do now. “do you not like them? i can always return them and get you something else...”

he practically flies out of his seat, eyes wide. “no!” he blurts. you and seungcheol are startled by the sudden outburst, your eyes mirroring his. “i mean-” he clears his throat, “i like them, i really do. but i should be the one buying you things, not the other way around.”

thankfully, you smile. “don’t worry about it! a baby like you should be bought nice things, even if you probably have better versions of them,” you tease, blowing him an air kiss.

jihoon scoffs. "you know, now that i think about it, you always pay for my things even though you’re the, and i quote, broke college student. what’s up with that?”

“because babies shouldn’t be paying for things.” you size him up, feigning innocence. “are you even allowed to have a debit card?”

seungcheol snorts at your comment, stifling his laughter by burying his head in your shoulder. on the other hand, jihoon’s jaw drops in disbelief. “this is bullying!” he yells, exasperated. “i’m being bullied by my boyfriend. hyung, you can’t be siding with him.”

the older shrugs, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “when i do it, you always kick me, but you never do anything when it’s him. it’s so fun, seeing you get all flustered.”

he glares at you both. “i actually hate you two. especially you,” he seethes, pointing at you.

you lean over to whisper in seungcheol’s ear, but you’re side-eyeing him, obviously trying to get him to hear you. “has he been fed yet? you know babies get grouchy when they don’t have food in their system.”

“(name) (last name)!!”

seungcheol knows that like him, you’re usually the oldest in most situations. because of this, taking care of those around you has practically become second nature. making sure everyone around you is healthy and happy has become instinctive, and you’re willing to go through hoops and hurdles just to achieve that. it’s one of the many traits he loves about you.

he’s grateful to have you around to take care of him, but most importantly, he’s glad that there’s someone like you taking care of jihoon. sure, he whines about not being the center of your attention, but he knows that there are times when jihoon needs it more than he does. viewed as the genius producer and leader of the vocal unit of seventeen, there’s no doubt that the pressure he receives to repeatedly produce big hits is unimaginable. though it’s something that the two of them share in common, he knows he would never willingly open up about his thoughts, afraid of burdening the already stressed leader.

thankfully, there’s you, with a warm and loving aura encompassing you. you just have this aura that makes people want to lower their guard, even for those as whole and reserved as jihoon. it undoubtedly helps relieve the tension that the young producer has, even if he claims to hate it.

even if he knows this, though, that doesn’t stop him from wanting all of your attention. you’re the only person jihoon allows to pamper him (even if he denies it), so it’s not surprising that you take every opportunity you get to do so. while it’s fun to see him get riled up, seungcheol can’t help but act bratty when your attention isn’t on him.

on an exceptionally mundane day where the members of seventeen are lounging in the practice room, taking a break after excruciating hours of nonstop dancing, you knock on the door, arms loaded with bags of takeout. a few seconds later, the door swings open, and you’re standing in front of a sweaty chan. “oh, hyung! what brings you here?” he asks, surprised.

“hey chan,” you greet with a smile. he moves to the side, giving you space to enter the room. when you do, you’re greeted by twelve boys who seem equally sweaty and exhausted, who slur their greetings. “i was going to drop off some food for cheol and hoonie, but i figured you guys would be hungry,” you explained, gesturing towards the bags. from the way their eyes light up, you can tell they’re pleased with the surprise. “i have fried chicken, tteokbokki, japchae... just a bit of everything.”

immediately, the thirteen boys gather around you, salivating at the scent wafting out of the bags. “thank you hyung, you didn’t have to do that for us,” dokyeom smiles.

you shrug, seating yourself between seungcheol and jihoon. “it’s the least i could do, don’t worry about it. now eat up! you all are probably starving.”

another chorus of thanks echoes throughout the room, and soon, everyone begins to dig in. as you chat with the other members, catching up on each others’ lives and learning about comeback preparations, you suddenly feel someone pulling you up by the armpits before placing you down on their lap. startled, you crane your neck and see seungcheol, who responds by pecking your forehead. “what was that for?” mingyu asks from across you, voicing your question.

“you haven’t paid attention to me at all,” he murmurs.

you simply hum, leaning forward to stab a piece of fried chicken. you aim the fork at seungcheol’s mouth, who eagerly sweeps in and takes a bite. from the corner of your eye, you can see the other members eyeing you two with disgust. “sometimes i forget this is a three-way relationship, seeing how you both react so differently around (name)-hyung,” seungkwan snorts, scooping more japchae onto his plate. “why can’t you be more like jihoon-hyung? at least he doesn’t whine when (name)-hyung isn’t around every five minutes like you.”

you roll your eyes. “please. hoonie likes it when i baby him, too.” you send him a wink, to which he responds with by rolling his eyes.

“you’re talking nonsense.”

“don’t lie~” you coo, leaning over and ruffling his hair. “our cute baby hoonie~”

above you, seungcheol pouts, resting his chin on your head. “why don’t you ever treat me like that, (name)? this is unfair.”

you add more tteokbokki onto your plate. “it’s fun, seeing both of your reactions. hoonie’s more fun to tease, and it’s fun seeing you get all mopey.” he pouts, though he can’t refute your claims. jihoon does have funnier reactions than he does, and judging by both the amused and unimpressed looks the other members give him, he’s sure that he looks nothing short of glum.

“you know,” wonwoo begins, “i never would’ve imagined that jihoon would’ve gotten together with them. maybe with (name), but not with seungcheol-hyung. you both cling onto him more than to each other, anyways.”

“cheol here just comes to me more because he’s scared of hoonie,” you laugh, patting his thigh. “besides, they have each other when i’m not in the picture.”

“(name), you shouldn’t spoil cheollie so much. he’s already so bratty when you’re not here,” jeonghan sighs. “i’d love to see you tease jihoon more, though. you’re the only person who can get away with it unscathed, anyways.”

both seungcheol and jihoon darken in embarrassment. “shut it, yoon jeonghan,” they snap in unison.

when seungcheol and jihoon wake up one saturday morning, they don’t expect to be clinging onto each other in bed. they also don’t expect you to be awake already, seeing how you’re usually one of the last people to get up.

“where’s (name)?” jihoon groggily asks, scooting closer to an equally tired seungcheol. though he rarely lets seungcheol hold him, his need for warmth overpowers his disdain for skinship.

the older doesn’t seem to mind his sudden touchiness, wrapping an arm around him. “dunno,” he mumbles.

neither of them further questions your disappearance, cuddling closer to each other. they both begin to drift back asleep when the floorboards of the hallway creak, signalling a new presence. the bedroom dear squeaks open, so when they both turn to face the source, they see you tiptoeing your way in. “oh, morning guys,” you whisper, sheepishly smiling. “sorry for waking you two."

“it’s fine,” jihoon yawns, slowly sitting up. beside him, seungcheol turns to dig his face into his pillow, stretching his limbs. “why are you up so early? it’s-” he pauses to glance at the clock, which reads 11:30 am. “okay, maybe it’s not so early. but what are you doing up?”

you shrug. “cheol elbowed my face earlier, and i couldn’t fall back asleep again, so i decided to get out of bed.”

seungcheol turns around and looks at you with guilty eyes, sitting up. “sorry babe,” he apologizes. he grabs your arm and pulls you onto him. “is your pretty face okay?” he asks, rubbing your cheeks.

you thread your fingers through his hair, untangling the knots as jihoon rolls over. “why don’t you come back to bed and sleep some longer? i know how irritable you can get when you don’t get enough sleep.”

you shake your head at his offer. “it’s okay, but thanks.” you reposition yourself so you’re sandwiched between seungcheol and jihoon, which is when they notice the navy apron hanging around your neck. “i made food not long ago, it should be warm still. come eat with me.” you wriggle your way out of the human sandwich, standing up again. “get up, lazy bums!”

“kiss me first,” seungcheol jeers like the brat he is.

you lean in close until your breath fans his lips. when he looks like he’s going to reciprocate, you move your lips last minute and peck his forehead instead. “brush your teeth first, brat. your breath smells like ass.” before you leave, you swiftly move your head and place a kiss on jihoon’s cheek, running out of the bedroom before either of them can do anything about it.

half an hour later, jihoon steps out of the bedroom and trudges into the kitchen. seungcheol’s still in the bathroom washing up. when he rounds the corner, he nearly screams to see you so close to him. you take this opportunity to wrap your arms around him and lift him up, to which he responds with a yelp. “put me down!” he shrieks.

you pay no mind to his shrieking, walking towards the counter. you plop down on a stool and seat him on your lap. he’s still squirming, but your grip is tight, so his fidgeting proves futile. “good morning, my baby~”

for someone who claims to hate the nickname, he always flushes a pretty red when you or seungcheol use it. even after getting together, he still isn’t used to it. “how many times do i have to tell you to not call me a baby? i’m only a year younger than you.”

“then what should i call you then?” you pucker your lips, which are met with jihoon’s palm. “my liege? my love? which do you prefer?” you flirt.

his blush darkens, and he can only look away in embarrassment. “shut up.”

your laugh is so loud it hurts his ears, but it’s endearing and true, something he never gets tired of listening to. “our baby is so cute when he’s flustered~”

“is today a bully seungcheol or a bully jihoon day, i wonder?” a voice in front of you asks. he cranes his neck as much as he can and sees seungcheol pouting in front of you two, bangs wet. “do i not get this treatment because i’m the oldest?

you stick your tongue out at him before flicking his forehead. “come on, let’s eat! you two took forever.” fortunately, seungcheol pulls out a stool for jihoon to sit on, so he’s all too eager to hop away from your clutches.

you’re sitting across from the duo, who are seated beside each other. the kitchen is mostly silent, save for the clinking of utensils. it isn’t when seungcheol takes a bite from an egg that you notice a band-aid plastered near his chin. “did you hurt yourself?” you ask, aiming your fork at his wound.

he absentmindedly runs a finger against the band-aid. “oh, this? i was shaving earlier and accidentally cut myself,” he explains. he gauges your reaction, from your furrowed eyebrows to worried eyes. just then, he lets out a cry, startling you and jihoon. “oh (name), it hurts~”

you laugh at his silliness, while jihoon snorts. “you’re so embarrassing. gosh (name), this is what happens when you spoil him too much. one single mishap and he comes running to you with fake tears. look at the monster you’ve created.”

you glance at seungcheol, and the mischievous smirk on your lips only spells for disaster. “cheol-ah, you were just fine a moment ago. i think you’re strong enough to handle a tiny cut, aren’t you?”

normally he would never allow for someone to question his strength, but when it comes to you, all he wants is your pampering, even if he makes himself look like a fool in the process. “don’t tease me, (name)~ don’t take jeonghan’s words so seriously!”

you laugh, recalling your friend’s words. you love to indulge your boyfriends, though teasing them is also fun, too. you used to only tease jihoon with your sickening babying, but seeing how seungcheol whines only fuels your mischievous nature. “i think you can handle it, cheol.” changing the topic, you smile at jihoon. “how’s the food? i think i did a good job for someone with abysmal cooking skills.”

“babe~” he whines.

“the food’s good, although your chopping skills could use some work,” jihoon comments, poking at an unevenly cut tomato.

you snort. “i’m cooking for you guys, not gordon ramsay. as long as it tastes good, it should be fine.”

“this is bullying.”

you turn to face seungcheol, who’s still pouting. “why don’t you ask hoonie?”

“because he’s going to say no. or worse, he’ll kick my shins.”

you laugh, getting up to refill your water. before you enter the kitchen, you cup seungcheol’s face and press a chaste kiss on his band-aid. “there. happy?”

the dopey, lovesick look he gives you is answer enough, and as confident and nonchalant as you are when it comes to flirting, you can feel butterflies swarming in your stomach. it never gets less exhilarating, knowing you have him wrapped around your finger. “suddenly, my cut doesn’t hurt anymore.”

jihoon gags. “disgusting.”

“you like it when we’re disgusting,” you mumble, pressing a kiss on his hair. before he can react, you swoop down and squish his cheeks, leaning in to press your lips together. he makes a disgruntled noise, though he doesn’t make any attempts to pry your hands off or to move away. when you pull away, a satisfied smile rests on your lips. “see? i knew you liked it when i babied you.”

you move your hands away from his face and lay them atop his hair. on the other hand, seungcheol squishes your cheeks together and begins peppering kisses on your face, drawing out little giggles from you. below you, jihoon frowns, folding his arms. “you’re so annoying. i could step on your toes if i wanted to.”

“if you wanted to,” you reiterate, turning your head so seungcheol doesn’t muffle your words with his lips. “key word is if, my dear. you would never actually hurt me, our cute baby.”

seungcheol relinquishes his attacks, sitting back onto the stool. “i wonder what would happen if i called him that?” he wonders out loud. suddenly, he squishes jihoon’s cheek, mirroring the fond look you always give them. “our cute baby jihoonie~”

right when he does this, seungcheol decides then that is the first and last time he’ll ever try to baby jihoon again - at least, if he wants to stay unharmed. pampering is more of your forte, anyways.

[amor-immortalem]

My Adoring Fan Chapter 5

Chapter 4

A/N: A bit of a fluffy chapter as the twins make up

As Aurelius entered the kitchen, both Azalea and Mammon turned their heads to him.

“There ya are,” Mammon says as he leans against the island counter. “Only three hours after your Ma called for you, but, hey, at least you came home.”

“You’re not going to yell at me too, are you?” He asks.

“Well, that depends. Do ya know why what ya did was wrong and do ya understand why you’re being punished for it?”

Aurelius nods. “Yes.”

“Then no, there’s nothin’ I need to say that ya probably haven’t heard from your mother already.” The oven dings and Mammon goes to pull the peppers out and places them on a plate for his son. “Here, have somethin’ ta eat before we leave.” Aurelius nods as he grabs a fork and starts eating.

“Leave?” Azalea asks as she looks between them. “Leave where?”

“Home.” The demon says as Azalea looks surprised. “What, you thought we were bluffin’ when we told you two that if you had one more spat like this that we’d be pullin’ one of ya from the house? Your Ma and I can’t keep coming over here every two or three nights to diffuse a situation between the two of ya like this because ya can’t seem ta learn ta get along. An’ since Aurelius started this by going along with Zulima’s hair-brained idea, he has to move back home until we think he’s learned his lesson.”

“So Aurelius gets punished while Zulima gets away scott-free?”

“No, of course not. Solomon was here earlier ta dish out her punishment and Uncle Asmo will be here shortly ta decide how long whatever her punishment was will last and talk with her about why this was wrong in the first place. Their startin’ to get up fed up with her actions too and this is probably your cousin’s last chance ta prove she can shape up before they pull ‘er out of the house too.”

Azalea turns to her brother with an apologetic look.

“I'll let ya have a few minutes ta talk privately and then we’ll be leaving.” The Avatar of Greed steps out since he knows his children won’t honestly speak their minds if someone is listening.

“Listen,” Aurelius says as he leans his head against Azalea’s, the black streaks in their hair pressed together. It’s a thing they’ve done ever since they we little. “I’m really sorry about this. I knew it was wrong and I still did it anyway. Are you still mad at me?”

“A little bit.” The older cambion sighed, “You didn’t send that audio clip to Max, did ya?”

“Yeah, but if it’s any consolation, she didn’t listen to it and deleted it instead. You really should tell her though. I think you’d be really happy. She definitely likes you back.”

“Why did ya do it? I feel so betrayed.”

“I told Mum that I was just bored but really it was because I was getting annoyed with Zulima talking about how much she quote-unquote ships you two and wishes you’d just get together already...”

“I get that. She can be rather persistent.” Azalea sighs. “If that’s the only reason then I guess I really can’t fault ya for it... How long are ya gonna be gone?”

“Until the end of next term. I’m grounded too for taking so long to get back here, so I’m losing my phone and I won’t get to do any photoshoots for the next three months... I’m think of quitting all together when my contract is up actually. The time off will give me a chance to really decide.”

“Majolish is gonna be really mad that they’ve lost their top model,” Azalea laughs softly. “Hey, the reason ya wanna quit is ‘cuz of that letter, right?”

“Yeah, a little bit.” Aurelius hums. “Actually, while I was running from you, I think I met the sender of that letter- well more like I plowed into her as I was running away. She didn’t seem all that crazy and claimed she didn’t know who I was but I don’t know, I got some really weird vibes so I think she was lying.”

“Hey, I just thought of this but doesn’t that girl who hounded you to start a relationship with her reside at the House of Sorrow? Maybe she’s the one who sent that letter so she wouldn’t have any competition for your attention.”

“I didn’t think of that. It would make sense, actually. “Do you think I should write her back and say I know it was her? See if it was really her and give her a chance to come clean?”

“Why don’t ya do it at school? We’re all bound to have classes with her at some point in the day so being able to get her alone and there be no chance for interference sounds like the perfect opportunity. What’s her name? Is she pretty?”

“She introduced herself as Persephone- you know like that greek myth and yeah she is. Funnily enough, she looks a lot like that idol that Henry was crying about earlier. Her hair and eye color are the same shade of grey as that idol’s.”

“That’s really interesting, actually. When I was talking with Henry earlier, I proposed the idea that maybe she was taking a break to enjoy a normal teen life so I wonder if I was right. Maybe this is something you could actually pursue as far as a relationship goes... If she is that idol then she wouldn’t be interested in dating you for our family’s prestige, fame, or money since she has plenty of her own to begin with. I know you’re lonely just like I’m lonely.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Aurelius pulled back. “I do want to find a mate eventually, but I also just want to survive RAD first before I start looking. It would be nice to have someone that looks at us in the same way Dad looks at Mum- with nothing but love and adoration but not a lot of demons really like us. They mostly just tolerate our existence.”

“You’ll get that eventually.” Azalea smiled. “I mean I got my person so you should too sooner or later, right?”

“Yeah, we-”

“Aurelius, what’s with this letter you have?” Arella asks as she enters the kitchen. “This really worries me, Sweetheart.”

“I got that today actually and I think I know who sent it, but also I’m starting to suspect she wasn’t actually the one who sent it. I’m going to meet with her at school to clear the air over it.”

“I don’t think that’s a very safe idea, Aurelius. From the verbiage in this letter, she could be stalking you. I know from experience with Dad and Uncle Asmo that people like this will do anything to ensure they're the only ones who have your attention.”

“I promise I’ll be safe, Mum. But I have to find out for sure if it’s her or....” the teen trails off and Arella doesn’t like the sound of that.

“Aurelius, has a classmate been harassing you, Darling?”

“Yeah... I didn’t want to tell you and Dad because I didn’t want to worry you guys... it’s been a thing for a while. You would think after rejecting her for the thousandth time, she would get the hint...”

“What’s been a thing?” Mammon asks as he pops his head in the doorway. “C’mon, Buddy, let’s go home.

“Our son is being harassed by one of his classmates and he didn’t want to tell us for fear of worrying us. Also, he received this rather alarming letter today in the post.”

“What? Lemme see that thing.” He takes the piece of paper in his hands and scans it over, eyebrows raising in alarm. “Aurelius this is not okay.  Is this the person whose been botherin’ ya?”

“Maybe...? I can’t really be sure. The implied sender isn’t the person whose been bothering me at school rather a girl that just transferred to RAD but I think it might have been forged by that person so I would avoid the sender at all costs. I want to meet her and confirm whether or not it’s really her.”

“You absolutely will not be doin’ that.”

“Dad I-”

“I said no. Aurelius, ya have no idea how dangerous people like this really are. I’ve had someone like this threaten your mother’s life multiple times back when we had first started officially datin’. Even Uncle Asmo got the same thing when he and Solomon went public with their relationship and other demons found out they had a kid together. I think combined, your uncle and I got close ta a thousand of these types of letters. It got so out of hand that at one point Uncle Lucifer had to step in and deal with it for us. This spells out nothing but trouble for ya and I don’t want ya getting' hurt by some nutcase that has a few bolts loose in the head.”

“Dad, you’re overreact-”

“No, I’m not, you’re not doing this and that’s final. I still have every single one of those letters and I’ll let ya read the worst ones to show ya just how dangerous something like this can get. Believe me when I tell ya this is not something ya want to deal with. And I’m warning you right now. If you get another one of these types of letters, I’m pulling ya out of modeling until you’re at least 1700 years old.”

“But what about my contract? Won’t I get penalized for breaking it?”

“We had a clause put in the fine print that if your father and I felt you were unsafe or were not benefitting from it emotionally or physically for any reason during the term of your contracts, that we had the right to terminate them at any point in time for your safety.” Arella explained.

The teen only sighs. He knows he should listen to his father but there’s something nagging him at the back of his mind. “Alright, I won’t do it.”

“Thank you.” Arella let out a relieved sigh. “We should get going now. It’s late enough as it is and your father and I both have to work in the morning. Give your sister a hug if you wish.”

The twins nodded as they moved to give each other a hug.

“See ya at school, I guess.” Azalea sighed. “Sorry I got ya booted back home.”

“It’s fine. This wouldn’t be happening if I hadn’t started it. Love you.”

“Love you too.” They let each other go and Aurelius headed off with their mother after Azalea gave her a hug goodbye.

“Are ya good ta go back down the stairs in your room without sliding down the railing? Your room is messy and I don’t want ya tripping and hurting yourself over a pile of books. Ask your cousin to help ya clean it tomorrow.”

“I think so. If I need it, I’ll just guilt Zulima inta helping me. She owes me after that trick she organized.”

“Okay,” the demon chuckles as he pulled his daughter into a hug. “I’ll come back ta check on you when I get back from the fourth layer with your brother. Make sure you use that cane, please. It’ll only benefit you, kiddo. I love you.”

She nodded as she let her father go. “Love you too. See ya then...” Azalea watched them go before going to put the plates in the sink and climbing the stairs. She stopped at Max’s doors and knocked, knowing it was about the time she’d be getting ready to bed. When she heard a soft ‘come in’, Azalea pushed opened the door.

“Hey...” She says as she walked in and closed the door. “We should talk...”

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

Next

find more on my masterlist

[yoon-kooks]

The Devil Writes Romance | myg

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, college!AU, fuckboy!AU, fanficwriter!Yoongi

Summary: When you’re assigned to work with Min Yoongi on a final project for your Writing Fiction course, you stumble upon the fuck boy’s secret identity as a sappy fanfic writer. With the heart and soul of an aspiring editor, you’re somehow convinced by the boy himself to help make his fictional romance more realistic and heartfelt. Before you know it, you’ve made a not-so-innocent pinky promise with the devil.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: mentions of sex :-)

A/N: this is basically a pilot that sets up a lot of plot for a potential series so lmk if you like the idea and would continue reading it as a series! also special shoutout to @chewymoustachio​ for the love & support 💖

As spring semester comes to a close, your only goal is to make it through finals week unscathed. Like many of your fellow English majors, most of your finals are extensive papers rather than traditional exams. Normally this would not stress you out, but your Writing Fiction course has thrown a curveball your way: half of your grade is dependent on your partner, Min Yoongi.

Personally, you’ve never been a fan of partner or group projects because you always somehow end up with incompetent teammates who either do a half-assed job or ghost you until the day before it’s due. Either way, you’ve learned and become accustomed to relying only on yourself.

However, as your Writing Fiction class has taught you, a writer’s world is not built upon independence. Rather, it’s built upon the opposite. Writers depend on others for support, feedback, and revision. That’s where your final project comes on.

For your final project, everyone in your class signed up for the role of either a writer or editor, and you’ve been randomly paired up with someone who chose the opposite. It’s no secret to anyone that you dream of becoming an editor in the industry. You love the idea of reviewing other writers’ works and providing them with as much feedback and constructive criticism as possible. Naturally, you signed up to be an editor.

As fate would have it, you find yourself paired with the boy who’s pretty much slept with the entire class, including the TA, and allegedly the professor. The only person left unchecked on his list is you. Somehow, you’ve heard more gossip about his sex life than his skills as a writer, which is why you believe you’re fucked for this final.

“Hey, Partner,” Yoongi catches up with you in the hall after class. His signature cedarwood cologne is too heavy to ignore as he strides beside you. “Are you free tonight?”

“To brainstorm some story ideas?” You tilt your head and add an innocent tone to mask the skepticism. Truthfully, you know what he really wants. It’s not your first rodeo.

“I actually already have a story in mind,” he says. “But I was thinking you and I could-”

“What’s the story about?” Because you’d much rather hear about that than one of Yoongi’s many excuses to get in your pants.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he shrugs as the two of you walk out of the building and into the beaming afternoon sun. You lift an arm to block the light out of your face, only to realize the boy’s shadow blocks it for you. Apparently, there are perks to walking with a buddy after class. “I’ll send you the draft tonight.”

“The professor literally just assigned the project and it’s not due for another week,” you raise an eyebrow. Weird, you’ve never seen a college kid so proactive and eager to get a head start on their final project. Something tells you the boy is just spouting bullshit and telling you what you want to hear. “You don’t have to rush and write all ten thousand words in a single night…”

“Well I don’t have any other plans tonight,” he says. “Unless you want to-”

“Nice try, Yoongi.” You start walking further ahead of the boy. You’re forced to squint as to not be blinded by the sun. “I guess you can have fun writing your story, then.”

“You really know how to play hard to get, Y/N…” Yoongi whines in that raspy voice of his, eliciting the tiniest smirk on your face. You might not approve of his fuck boy tendencies, but you’re also not opposed to teasing him a bit.

“If you really want to impress me, keep your word and send the draft tonight.” You spin around and wave farewell as you battle the sun. “Your editor will be waiting.”

As soon as you arrive home, you realize Yoongi isn’t the only one without any Friday night plans. With nothing to do, a large part of you hopes your partner keeps his promise so you can at least try to be productive over the weekend. But ten thousand words is a lot to write in one night. It’s more than likely that he won’t be able to pull it off.

In an attempt to wind down, you scroll through the blog feeds of your favorite writers. Many of them, such as @suga-fix and @jk-seagull, are college students like you, so you can appreciate all the time and effort they put into their craft on top of their school work. While the fan in you loves to shower them with sweet and supportive messages, the editor in you hopes to one day be able to also provide feedback on a professional level.

At the very top of your feed is a short post from @suga-fix, a romance fanfic writer whom you recently found while scouring the #jiminscenarios tag for something free of smut.

“Does anyone else struggle to ask their crush out or is it just me? Asking for a friend.”

You giggle at the innocent question. In addition to writing the sappiest Jimin fanfics, Suga is known to post snippets of his own nonexistent love life on his blog. From what you understand, he’s a boy who’s never experienced true love firsthand. Recently, however, he’s been gushing over his pretty classmate. You’re waiting for the day when he builds up enough courage and finally lands a date.

Until then, you’re satisfied with reading his ongoing fictional love story featuring the popular idol, Park Jimin, as a struggling romance novelist who finds inspiration in a skeptical wedding photographer. You absolutely adore the story, the characters, and the underlying narrative, but the editor in you can point out an area for improvement: his romance game. 

You notice the two main characters lack a certain level of chemistry to get the readers quaking and itching for more. Most of the time, the intimate scenes end with poor Jimin getting friendzoned, which certainly has its charm and humor. But truthfully, you expect a little more love from a romance fic.

You suspect that, to some extent, this is intentional as the characters are the type to dance around intimacy and have pessimistic views on romance overall. However, you also wouldn’t be surprised if Suga’s own personal inexperience with romantic scenarios is what holds him back the most.

After catching up on your socials, eating dinner, and hopping out of the shower, you sit in the darkness of your room and check one more thing before calling it a night. No email, no text, no draft from your partner. Not that you were actually expecting anything, but it would’ve been nice for the fuck boy to prove you wrong.

To be fair, you know how long and painful ten thousand words can be. If Yoongi is in fact sprinting through those ten thousand words and gets them to you by the time you wake up, you’ll consider him a man of his word.

[4:56AM] Yoongi💋 “I emailed you the thing”

[7:24AM] Y/N “Ooh, I’ll take a look 👁👁”

[7:25AM] Y/N “Btw I don’t appreciate you adding an emoji to your contact info on my phone”

After changing Yoongi’s contact name to something more appropriate, you go into your email and find the story draft that the boy had sent at exactly 4:55AM. The word count on the document says 10,382. Not too shabby, Min Yoongi.

You grab your morning caffeine and crack open your laptop to read your partner’s story on the big screen. Right away, you notice the document is titled “Untitled1” which is never a great sign, but you’re willing to forgive him if its content is stellar.

The first thing that puts a smile on your face is the main character, Jimothy. His name reminds you of your favorite idol, Jimin, with a playful touch. He’s the romance novelist who attends his friend’s wedding where he has a chance encounter with a pretty wedding photographer-

Wait. You’re pretty sure you’ve heard this story before. In fact, you know exactly where it came from. You pull up Suga’s Jimin fic and put it side-by-side against Yoongi’s version. While it’s not exactly a copy-and-paste situation, the romance novelist x wedding photographer premise is too similar for it to be a mere coincidence.

At first glance, you find it funny that Yoongi took the time to reword everything to not be caught by the plagiarism police. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he did a quick search of Jimin fanfiction and picked one that was moderately popular but not viral enough for anyone to notice. Jimin fanfic just so happens to be your guilty pleasure, so there’s absolutely no way you’d let a plagiarist slip one past you.

But upon further review, after digesting the entirety of the fic, you find that Yoongi’s flow and choice of words are eerily similar to Suga’s style without recycling a single line. Likewise, you notice the same lack of chemistry in both versions of the story. You suppose this can only mean one thing, and you need to confront him about it in person. Because the last thing you want is for him to ghost you like everyone else you’ve ever worked with.

[8:42AM] Y/N “I just finished looking it over”

[8:43AM] Y/N “Wanna get coffee & discuss? ☕️📖”

[8:45AM] Yoongi🐍 “Oh? I thought you weren’t interested in a date with me 🥺”

[8:46AM] Y/N “Let’s meet in about an hour at the coffeehouse on campus?”

[8:46AM] Yoongi🐍 “See ya there, my editor”

As you stir the oat milk into your second dose of caffeine for the morning, you wonder how you can bring up your suspicions in an appropriate and professional way. Should you confront him about it immediately, gently coax him in that direction, or take a more passive approach to see if he’ll mention it on his own? Because if you’re going to be this boy’s editor, you want to do it right.

“Thoughts?” Yoongi enters the chat with slightly damp hair and an iced Americano in hand. Your only thought in that moment is about how fucking good he smells, even in the presence of the rich aromas of your favorite roasted coffee beans. But you’ll leave those thoughts to yourself.

“My first thought was that you sent me a document titled Untitled1,” you say.

“I have a working title,” he assures you. “But I’m curious to hear what clever titles my editor has come up with after reading through the whole thing.”

“Pink Cheek Syndrome sounds appropriate.” Because that’s the title of Suga’s original fic. It’s also the term coined by Jimothy to describe couples who aren’t as in love as they’d like to believe. It’s a facade to fool everyone, including themselves.

“Great minds think alike after all.” Yoongi leans in to give you a high-five, but you just throw a balled up napkin at his palm. Confess. Just confess already.

“Can I ask what inspired the concept?” You bite your lip. “You don’t strike me as the romantic type.”

“Don’t you ever feel like people get into relationships just for the sake of being in a relationship?”

“Yeah.” All the time, in fact.

“It’s pretty shallow if you ask me,” he says with a nonchalant chuckle, as if he’s not the shallowest person on campus when it comes to established relationships. “PCS is just a commentary on people like that vs people like you and me.”

You and him? You’re not sure you have anything in common with someone who breaks hearts and sleeps around so casually.

“Sounds like something a fanfic writer would come up with.” Because it is.

“Sounds like something a fanfic reader would say,” he throws back at you.

“In fact, there’s a Jimin fanfic I read once called Pink Cheek Syndrome,” you say. The dose of coffee moving up Yoongi’s straw suddenly freezes. “You’re the original writer, right?”

He swallows hard and raises an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“The writing style matches even though you didn’t copy and paste,” you scroll back through Yoongi’s version for reference. “And besides, scrambling to write ten thousand words in one night is typical fanfic writer behavior. A true plagiarist doesn’t know what it means to put those hours in.”

“Nothing gets past your sharp eyes, huh, Y/N…” Yoongi sighs, failing to hide behind his Americano. “I’m equally impressed as I am scared.”

“Wait, so you’re really Suga?” Your eyes widen. Suddenly you’re overcome by a wave of emotions. Excited, nervous, star-struck. But most of all? Confused. “How?”

“Just don’t tell anyone.” He picks up his phone and starts typing away at something.

“I won’t,” you say, also pulling out your phone to check up on the @suga-fix blog. Sure enough, there’s a stream of several new posts from a few seconds ago.

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK”

“I feel so exposed 😔”

“Quick, everyone act like this isn’t a fanfic blog.”

“We can pretend to be like a porn blog or smth”

“I can read everything you’re posting, you know.” You show your blog feed to Yoongi, who’s still busy keysmashing. When he finally glances up from his screen to yours, the look on his face is both flattered and distressed.

“You follow me, too?” The boy takes a long sip of his Americano, shifting his beady little eyes and plotting his next move. “What’s your URL?”

“You’re totally going to block me,” you frown. “I already told you, I’m not going to tell anyone…”

As you continue to scroll through Yoongi’s blog, you notice his post is gone from the day before. Perhaps that’s what the boy is desperately trying to hide.

“By the way, is it true that Min Yoongi, resident fuck boy, has a crush on someone?” You get excited because that’s not something you hear everyday. In regards to Yoongi, it’s always been sex, sex, and more sex. He’s notorious around campus for having one-night stands and breaking hearts the morning after. You’d never imagine a boy like him having an innocent crush on anyone.

“Where’d you hear that?” The boy across from you gradually sinks deeper and deeper into his seat every time you open your mouth to expose him further.

“You made a post yesterday about not being able to talk to your crush properly,” you giggle. “It was kind of cute.”

“I was talking about my friend.”

“You can’t fool me, Yoongi. I’m not that oblivious.” You take a sassy sip of your coffee and lean forward. “So who’s your crush? Is it someone in our class?”

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he shoos you away and slides a hard copy of his draft in your direction. “Let’s not get distracted from why we’re really here.”

“Hold it, I’m not just being nosy for the gossip, you know,” you say. “From an editor’s perspective, I think the romance in your story could benefit from you interacting more with your crush.”

For a moment, Yoongi just gives you a look. You can see the wheels spinning in his head. “Well, that person doesn’t seem very interested in me, so…”

“Unrequited love?” you gasp. The plot thickens.

“Yeah,” he chuckles at your enthusiasm. “But you did give me an idea just now.”

You examine his handsome face for a hint of what’s to come. His signature Fuck Boy Smirk tells you he’s up to no good again. “I’m listening.”

“You’re my editor, right?” he asks. You nod. “And your main critique is that I should up my romance game, right?”

You nod again.

“What if you help me make the romance scenes more believable and realistic?” The boy watches as you blink your wide eyes, stunned at his suggestion. You know he doesn’t just mean that from an editorial standpoint. Surely there’s an ulterior motive here. “And before you jump to any conclusions, no, this does not include sex.”

Oh.

You’re reminded that Yoongi doesn’t write smut, despite how much of a fuck boy he is in real life. Because you’re sure he has the capability and personal experience to write some steamy and wild sex scenes. And yet, he chooses to focus on hardcore romance instead, something he himself is much less familiar with. It’s mind-blowing to think that a boy as experienced in bed as Yoongi could be so inexperienced elsewhere.

Why does he write the opposite of how he lives?

“I don’t think that’s how editors work,” you finally respond to Yoongi’s proposal, flipping through his draft and writing in the margins. You have to admit, the boy has a gift. His stories would no doubt skyrocket in popularity if the lovey-dovey scenes could draw out true, raw emotions as though you were there living in those moments. As a reader, you want him to pull at your heartstrings, smash your heart into a million pieces, and slowly put it back together. All of that can be achieved if the writer gets some hands-on experience in the love department. “But I get what you’re saying.”

“So is that a yes or a no?” He sips down the rest of his Americano as you continue to think your decision through.

Given what you know about Yoongi’s track record as a fuck boy, you’re hesitant. But at the same time, the ambitious editor in you knows what you want.

“It’s a yes,” you sigh. “But only if you promise me a few things.”

“Go on.”

“One, you’ll come to me if you’re struggling and need suggestions, advice, or someone to talk to.”

“Easy. You can be my editor-in-chief.”

“Two, if anyone asks, we aren’t dating.”

“Got it.”

“Three, help me study and prepare for the rest of my finals.”

“We can have study dates.”

“And lastly, please don’t sleep with anyone else while we’re doing this thing. Because that would be awkward.”

“Oh? I didn’t realize you were the possessive type, Y/N,” he smirks.

“Not trying to be That Controlling Bitch who forbids you from sleeping around, but I think it would defeat the purpose of what we’re trying to accomplish.”

“But what if this goes on for a while?” Yoongi strokes his imaginary Santa beard. “You expect me to practice abstinence forever?”

“It won’t go on forever, Yoongi,” you giggle at the boy’s silly remark. “Because eventually, you’ll find someone who can bring out those romantic feelings better than our faux intimacy ever will.”

“But you’ll still be my editor-in-chief?”

“If everything works out, then I don’t see why not.” You want to be optimistic about a long-term deal, but you can’t seem to rid yourself of the doubt stuck in the back of your mind. Because humans, not just fuck boys like Yoongi, seem to have a hard time keeping their promises. “I only ask that you don’t break my trust.”

Before responding, the boy meets his eyes with yours. You suppose tender eye contact is a skill he acquired from his flirty lifestyle. You, on the other hand, blink away. Eye contact longer than a glance has always made you feel vulnerable.

“I won’t, Y/N,” he says, coating his raspy voice with a layer of honey. It’s almost as intoxicating as his cedarwood cologne, but that’s another thought you’ll keep to yourself.

You watch as he slides his pinky into view, over the draft and coffees to make it official. After cracking a smile at his childish gesture, you wrap your pinky around his, thus marking the beginning of your deal with the devil.

[songtoyou]

Chapter 12: Switch - Part One

Tolerate It

Paring: Modern!Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Story Rating: R (No minors should read this fic).

Word Count: 3,791

Warnings: Swearing

Story Description: Tommy Shelby is the owner and CEO of Shelby Company Limited. Starting out as a Bookmaker, Tommy had big ideas to expand his riches. In the past ten years, the company has grown rapidly to expand its business ventures from bars to producing alcohol, manufacturing motor vehicle parts, and exporting. One of the richest men in Great Britain, Tommy Shelby, has it all. Unfortunately, the death of his wife, Grace, left the multi-millionaire mogul alone and depressed. He needed someone to fulfill his needs and deepest darkest desires.

Chapter Summary: Easter has arrived. Tommy is spending it with his family, while Rose is forced to spend time with her ex. We learn that Tommy does not always want to be in control. 

A/N: This chapter will have two parts.

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Tag list: @owenniasstars​

There was a part of Tommy that wished he did not have to be in control all of the time. It was understandable that he be the one in charge of his business as he had no other person to rely on to step up to the plate. Michael was still too young. Also, Tommy had been developing doubts and distrust towards his cousin. It didn’t help that Michael would schedule secret meetings with potential business partners and act as if he was doing it to help Tommy and the company. Tommy used to rely on and confide in his Aunt Polly. Yet, she began to distance herself more and more from the company, especially since getting remarried to Aberama Gold, a fellow business associate to Tommy. John and Arthur had their business deals to worry about, and Ada spent most of her time in the States.

He wished Grace was still alive. She was Tommy’s number one supporter. He shared almost everything with Grace (the legal side) and truly valued her advice and opinions. When Tommy was with Grace, he was able just to be himself. He was allowed to be calm and not have to overwork his mind. He didn’t have to be in control.

It was only with Grace that Tommy allowed another person to have total control over him in the bedroom. Both he and Grace shared characteristics of a dominant and submissive. They often switched roles, with Tommy as the dominant and Grace as the submissive, and vice versa. He loved it when Grace used to dominate him. No one would have suspected the sweet-natured blonde woman had an alpha personality behind closed doors, who was and controlling and overtly sexual.

With Grace gone, Tommy never allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of anyone. Lizzie tried to get Tommy to open that side of him up, but he denied her. He couldn’t do it. A part of Tommy felt as if it would be a betrayal to Grace. Both Ada and Polly constantly told Tommy that it was okay for him to move on from Grace.

“She gave you, on her deathbed, the permission to move on, Thomas. Respect your deceased wife’s wishes,” Aunt Polly would tell him. 

“Find someone to have a family with, Tommy. Charlie deserves to have a mother figure in his life and possible siblings if it were to happen. Let yourself be happy,” were Ada’s words of encouragement. 

No doubt Tommy would hear those exact words at his sister’s house this Sunday afternoon to celebrate Easter with the entire Shelby clan. Boy, it was going to be a long day. Charlie ended up spending the night at Ada’s with his cousins. Tommy was glad for that as indeed his sister would provide his son with an Easter basket. Tommy was not one for decorative or holiday pleasantries. That was all Grace. When Grace passed, Ada, Polly, or Esme would be the ones to step in and make sure Charlie celebrated his birthday with a party or invite him over for holiday festivities. Guilt would riddle Tommy at that notion that he could not provide his only child with a happy environment. Yes, Tommy loved Charlie dearly. However, Tommy could not deny that he lacked in other emotional departments. He was not one for sentiments or terms of endearment.

Another subject Tommy was not keen to have brought up was his “relationship” with Rose Turner. Unfortunately, he knew better than to expect his family members to rile him up about her and ask questions. None of them knew how Tommy met Rose. It was the same with Lizzie. While both Arthur and John were not faithful to their wives, neither were allowed to be members of Excelsior Club. He had mentioned Arthur and John to Tatiana to inquire if they could become members. Tatiana stated that they were both a liability. “Your brothers are too reckless and don’t fit the standards of our usual clientele. They are, how do I put this nicely? They are too ‘rough around the edges,’ so to speak,” Tatiana said dismissively when Tommy first started going to the Club.

It didn’t matter to Tommy either way; his brothers still managed to do fine all on their own. Besides, Arthur and John were not the faces of Shelby Company Limited; Tommy was and had an image to protect. If Tommy went down in disgrace, it would be for his business dealings, not that he kept himself in the company of whores.

However, Tommy could not help his growing feelings for Rose. There was an energy about her that was attractive to him that he could not quite understand why. Tommy was not sure if it was because Rose was able to adhere to his wicked desires. It amazed Tommy how she was keen on submitting and doing almost anything to please him. During scenes, Rose responded to Tommy as if he was the only man she needed, the only man she desired. And it felt genuine, not put on. There would be moments during aftercare where Rose would look at Tommy with such admiration and respect, that at first, it made him feel uneasy. But after a while, he came come to desire that look. That Tommy would do whatever it took to make sure Rose always looked at him in such away. Tommy found that he craved Rose’s respect, which caught him off guard. 

Tommy soon realized that he also respected Rose and how she would do anything for her son. He admired that notion about her. She willingly entered into a line of work that could be demanding, demeaning, and possibly dangerous to provide for her child was not something that Tommy took lightly or was flippant about it. He would never refer to Rose as a “hooker with a heart of gold.” No, she was much more than a trope. Tommy knew Rose did not need a knight and shining armor to save her. 

Lizzie wanted Tommy to save her. At the time, Tommy was in no position to be someone’s hero. He was too bruised, too shattered, too broken. 

Now, here Tommy was at his sister’s home celebrating Easter. He sat back and watched everyone. The laughter, the smiles, Tommy felt like he didn’t belong. Tommy felt like he couldn’t breathe, so he stepped out back to smoke a cigarette since Ada did not allow smoking in her home.

The inhale of nicotine helped soothe Tommy’s anxiety and calm his nerves. Often, he wished he was back on opium. It was his way of coping after coming home from Afghanistan. He was only able to get clean because of Grace and her support. He never touched the stuff after getting clean, but there were still cravings. The feelings that came with the high brought such bliss. The satisfaction that nothing could harm you. Those weren’t going to go away magically overnight. 

Tommy’s solitude was interrupted when his son, nephews, and nieces ran outside with their baskets to search for eggs. He looked at his watch and sighed. He was not sure how much longer he could stand this. 

As the children flittered around the yard, Tommy took out his phone. He opened the message from one of the Blinders he had assigned to watch over Rose that day. The text message Tommy received earlier unsettled him. It was a picture of Rose exiting her house with Louis and a man. The three got in a car and drove off. At first sight of the image, Tommy felt enraged. He immediately wanted to know who this man was and why he was with Rose. Tommy was livid. Fortunately, he calmed himself down when Rose sent him a text an hour later.

Rose: I know you have your guys watching over Louis and me. While I do appreciate that, it is a little much. The man I am with is Louis’s father, Nick. We are going out for an Easter brunch. Nothing for you to worry about, and Happy Easter. 

Tommy didn’t respond, but he was grateful that Rose cleared things up. He knew his reaction to the picture was ridiculous. The slight pang of jealously surprised Tommy. He didn’t quite know where it came from; it was the same feeling when Rose told him that Changretta contacted her. He was still unsure about what to do with Changretta. First, it was only business that Changretta was causing Tommy grief; now, the man was gearing up to steal his girl. Tommy realized that he must have been too lenient when dealing with the Changrettas now overstepping their boundaries. Tommy and the Peaky Blinders would have to put them in their place for good. 

Tommy would make sure that Rose was not a casualty if a war broke out. He was not going to lose her or the war.

“Mum! Come on!” Louis yelled. He was dressed and ready to go, but his mum was taking forever. “What is taking so long?”

“In a minute!” Rose shouted back. She was ready but was busy doing making an Easter basket for Louis. Rose placed the items strategically in the basket. She grabbed the basket and walked down the stairs. “Happy Easter, my little man.”

Rose handed the basket to Louis, who had a look of confusion and annoyance on his face. “What the Hell, Mum? Is this what you have been doing for the last thirty minutes?”

“Yes,” Rose said. “Don’t you like it?”

Louis sighed and placed the basket on the table. “I’m too old for an Easter basket,” he moaned but still looked through the basket to see what he got. “Holy shit! A new iPhone! AirPods!”

“Still want the basket?” Rose questioned sarcastically. “I mean, I’ll take it back if you don’t want it.”

“No, I want it. Mum, thank you,” Louis beamed with happiness and hugged Rose. 

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. You’re a good kid. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mum.”

Their tender moment was cut short when the doorbell rang. “Who the bloody Hell could that be?” Rose asked, confused.

“It is probably Dad. I told him it would be easier to pick us up,” Louis explained and went to open the door. “Dad! So good to see you.” 

Rose stood back, arms crossed, as Louis hugged his father. It was a sight that had Rose feel a pang in her chest. It reminded her that the three of them could have been a family, a typical family. That is what Louis deserved. Nick looked over at Rose and smiled at her. It was a warm and genuine smile. Rose felt like she was sixteen all over again.

“Rosie, you look…beautiful as always,” Nick complimented and went in for a hug but stopped himself. “We can hug, right?’

Rose scoffed, “Of course we can hug, weirdo.” The former lovers embraced, and Rose felt a familiarity, the feeling of being safe and uncertain. She pulled away. “Well, we better get going. Louis, where did you decide we go to eat?”

“Bella Roma. Can we stop by an Apple store after we’re done eating? I want to be able to switch over from my old iPhone to the new one. Mum, got me a new iPhone.” Louis held up his phone to his dad.

“Nice,” Nick admired. 

“We’ll see. Come, let’s get going,” Rose ordered and ushered everyone out of the house. Locking up, Rose turned around to see Louis and Nick walked towards a car. “Wow. Is this your car, Nick?”

“Don’t act so shocked. It is a used car, but yes, it is mine,” he told Rose. “It is a 2017 Hyundai Elantra. Got a pretty good price for it too.”

“Very nice,” Rose approved as she got inside, with Louis settling himself comfortably in the back seat. 

“Dad has a full-time job now. Isn’t that right, Dad,” Louis spoke up eagerly.

Nick started the car and drove away from the house. It would not be too long before they arrived at the restaurant. “Where do you work?” Rose asked, trying to hide the tone of suspicion in her voice. 

“My father took pity on me. I work at his insurance company. It took a while for him to trust me again. But Mum told Dad to give me a chance, especially when I got out of….”

“Prison,” Rose interrupted, and she noticed Nick straighten up in his seat. “That is good to hear. I’m glad your relationship with your parents is better. Better than mine, that is for sure,” she added under her breath. 

It was not long until Nick parked near Bella Roma. Once they entered the restaurant, the three were seated quickly. Rose sat on one side, while Nick and Louis sat together on the other side. Rose sat back and watched the interaction between father and son. It was sweet to watch Louis interact with his father. As Rose looked between the two, she was reminded how much they both looked so very much alike. It was eerie. Dark brown hair and brown eyes were two of the features they shared, along with a dimple on their chin. 

Soon, their waitress stopped by to get drink orders. “I’ll just have water, thank you,” said Rose. Truthfully, she would have liked a glass of wine to help take the edge off. However, Rose didn’t want anything to hinder her guard up around Nick.

They ended up ordering pizza to share and a plate of arancini as a starter. Louis was the one to dominate the conversation. He was desperately trying to get his parents to interact more. Louis kept praising his dad’s accomplishments to get his mum’s attention. “Mum, did you know dad volunteers to help underprivileged kids. It’s like, what did you refer to it as, a nice version of scared straight?”

Nick chuckled, “Something like that. I figured I could do something good and help guide kids to not make the same mistakes as me.”

Rose bit her tongue. For Louis’s sake, she would be nice. However, she wanted to bite back and ask Nick what he considers mistakes he has made throughout his life. Rose hoped he didn’t view Louis as some mistake. That would set her off. Rose picked at her pizza; she found herself not hungry all of a sudden. Nick and Louis continued to talk amongst themselves about mundane topics such as school, sports, music, etc.

At that moment, Rose’s thoughts drifted to Tommy. She wondered what he was doing, and kind of wished he was with her. That thought caught Rose off guard. She pulled out her phone and sent him a quick text. She wanted to let him know that she was out with Louis and Nick, along with wishing him a happy Easter. There were times where Rose wished she didn’t have to leave Tommy after their rendezvous in the hotel that Friday. She always felt safe with Tommy. There was a sense of security and a feeling of being protected. 

Rose found herself that the more she hung around Tommy, the more she began to trust him, and the more Rose began to like Tommy, which scared her. She was not supposed to develop feelings for him. He was a client, after all. He paid for her services. She willingly allowed him to do unspeakable sexual acts to her. Rose was willing to let Tommy do things she would never allow any other man to do to her. She wondered what made Tommy different compared to someone like Luca or Alfie. Probably because, in a weird sense, Tommy treated Rose like a human being and not some toy. Yes, she knew Tommy tended to be possessive, but he still respected Rose’s boundaries. Rose trusted Tommy not ever to cross them. 

“Rosie, are you still here?” Nick asked. He waved his hand in front of Rose’s face to get her attention.

“What?” Rose shook her head to clear her mind. “Sorry, what’s going on?”

“Dad asked you about the guy you are currently seeing,” Louis answered. He was frustrated that his dad brought up Tommy. 

“Oh yeah, what about Tommy?” 

“Just wondered how long you have been seeing this guy? How did you two meeting by the way?” Nick questioned. “I’ll be frank; I was stunned to find out that the mother of my child is dating the one and only Tommy Shelby. Isn’t he an OBE?”

Rose shrugged her shoulders at the question, “I guess he is an OBE. I don’t know; he has yet to show me his medal or whatever it is they get. You know, Tommy is just a guy I met, and we hit it off. Nothing too outrageous.”

“Is it serious?” Again, another question from Nick.

Louis sighed in annoyance, and Rose quickly picked up on her son’s discomfort on the subject of Tommy. “Let’s see if they have dessert,” Rose changed the subject and tried to wave over their waitress.

“Have you met him, Louis?” asked Nick turning towards his son.

Rolling her eyes, Rose interceded, “No, he has not met Tommy.”

“And I don’t want to,” Louis mumbled under his breath.

“Hey, here is an idea, how we don’t talk about Tommy, okay,” ordered Rose, and both guys agreed.

After sharing a tiramisu, Rose had enough and was ready to get back home. Nick offered to pay, and Rose didn’t fight him on it. She figured it was his way of showing he had his own money and could provide a meal for them. With their leftovers boxed up, Rose led the way back to Nick’s car. 

“Louis, did you still want to go to the Apple store?” Rose asked him. 

“Can we? I thought you wanted to get back home.”

“I do, but we can get the leftovers in the fridge, and I can take you,” replied Rose. Truthfully, she did not want to go. She had enough excitement for one day.

Suddenly, Nick piped in, “I can take him if you feel like staying home.”

Rose turned around to look at Louis, “Is that okay with you?”

“That’s fine,” answered Louis, happily. He was excited to get to spend some alone time with his dad.

Nick parked in front of the house. Rose and Louis and got out of the car. He handed the pizza boxes to Rose and got in the front seat. “I’ll see you late, sweetie. By Nick. Take care.”

“Bye, Rosie. Talk to you later.”

Rose waved them off and walked towards the house. She breathed a sigh of relief upon entry. She went upstairs to undress and put on a pair of comfortable sweats and sweater. All Rose wanted to do was relax. 

Looking at the clock, it was only 3:30 PM. Lunch with Nick felt like it went on longer. As Rose was about to settle herself on the couch to watch television, the doorbell rang. “Now, who the Hell is that?” 

“Fucking ‘ell, people. It’s Easter Sunday, for God’s sake.” She walked to the front door and opened it to find none other than Tommy Shelby. 

“Tommy, what are you doing here?” inquired Rose, totally not expecting it to be him. 

Clearing his throat, Tommy shuffled on his feet. He looked down, then up at Rose. “I…I needed to get out and away. It was all too much.” 

Rose was confused by what Tommy was telling her. She motioned for Tommy to come inside, and he obliged. “What do you mean it was all too much? Are you okay?”

Guiding Tommy to the couch, Rose sat down next to him. She was concerned since she had never seen Tommy like this before. It was as if he was lost.

Tommy sighed, “I was at my sister’s house. Everyone was there, my brothers, their wives and kids, Aunt Polly and her husband, his kids. Everyone had someone but me. I was alone. Charlie was there, of course, but it if feels like the bond we once had is dwindling. He doesn’t need me. I watched him play with his cousins and interact with his aunts and uncles and realized that my son is better off without me.”

Rose was shocked at Tommy’s words. She scooted closer to him and placed a supported hand on his knee. “Tommy, no. That is not true. Of course, your son needs you. You are his father. You’re his family.”

“He has other family members who can give him the love and attention he deserves. Maybe I should have listened to Grace’s parents and had Charlie live with them.”

“No. Tommy, listen to me,” Rose began and made Tommy look at her. “Charlie is your son. You love him. You told me that you love him. He is a part of you and Grace. If you give Charlie up, you will regret it. Then you truly will lose him.”

“It would be better for him….”

“No, it would not. It would only scar that child for the rest of his life. He will feel that you abandoned him,” Rose stated firmly. “You’re not thinking clearly. It’s a holiday. We all get weird when we are forced to hang around family members. Just stay here for a while and relax.”

Rose found that her hand moved from Tommy’s knee to his hand sitting back on the couch. He was holding on tight as if he was afraid Rose would disappear. She used her other hand to cover his. Rose wanted Tommy to know that she was not going anywhere. Taking in Tommy’s appearance, he was dressed in blue jeans, a black sweater, and black boots. It was the most casual look Rose had ever seen Tommy. She was always used to seeing him in suits. It was a nice change. However, the look on his face was one of sadness and defeat. 

“Tell me what you need, Tommy?” Rose asked. She pulled Tommy closer to her and wrapped an arm around him. “Tell me how I can make it better,” she crooned in his ear and ran her fingers through his hair. 

What did Tommy want? He was unsure. A part of Tommy didn’t want to feel always in control. That he could let go and be in the moment. That’s what he wanted; he wanted to be in the moment with Rose. Just the two of them, sitting together. “I just want to sit here, with you, Rose. That’s all I want right now. I don’t want to think about anything.”

Kissing the top of Tommy’s head, Rose leaned her head on his. “Okay, we can do that, Tommy. I’m here. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

[perennialwinds]

Scars

Okay, as promised last week, here is one of my Caryl fics. @archersqueen you convinced me to post this one! Hope you enjoy.

Shivers ran down his spine as the warmth of a wet cloth made contact with his skin. Streaks of water travelled down his side and he hissed as the salty solution infiltrated his flesh, worn and bloodied. It was far from one of the worst injuries he’d had, but Carol tended to it none the less. In fact, now that he thought about it, Carol had been absent for many of his injuries he’d acquired over the past ten or so years. He was grateful that she didn’t have to be there when it happened, but regretful of the time he’d spent without her.

A nasty scrape from a run in with a barbed-wire fence left a means for infection. And with their antibiotics supply running dry many years ago, they had no choice than to be on top of any potential medical threat that faced them, no matter how minimal it may be.

“You did a good job on that fence,” she said, squeezing out the bloodied water from the cloth and dunking it into a bowl of a clean salt water solution. He grunted a response. “You need to be more careful.”

“Had worse. M’ still here though.” He replied, cut short as she pressed the cloth to his wound again, stinging salt water momentarily punching the breath out of his lungs. He breathed out heavily through his nose, fists clenched to either side of the bench he sat shirtless on in their shared kitchen table.

“Gonna leave a scar, that’s for sure.” She squeezed out the cloth again, this time replacing it with a dry flannel, patting his skin clean.

He didn’t even keep count of the scars. He didn’t keep count before the apocalypse. He sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. “I got enough already… What’s another one?” He moved a hand to his face, running his fingers over his eyes. He was tired. His whole body ached and his mind was fatigued to the point of blurriness. He’d come back from a three-day long scavenging trip, cut short when he lost his supplies over the other side of the fence he had escaped from as a herd of walkers cornered in. He’d been lucky to escape with his crossbow and his own life, but nothing else. If Carol hadn’t been so insistent on tending to his wound, he’d have been fast asleep by now, unbothered in his bed. He just wanted to rest. To heal. And honestly, he just wanted to stay in the house. Stay inside the walls of Alexandria. Just for a while. These scavenging trips, although he was damn good at it, was taking a toll on his body. He was not as agile, as fit as he used to be. Age was wearing him down, something he never thought he would experience in this living hellscape that seemed to cut everyone else’s lives so short. Every day his bones ached, longed for him to just take a day off, slow down. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could ignore it. How much longer his body would allow him to ignore it before it broke down in the worst moment possible. Most of all though, he just wanted to spend more time with her. With Carol. And with Lydia. With his accidental family that he somehow scraped together without even realising. Carol - His best friend, his soulmate, since the apocalypse, and Lydia - daughter of an old enemy he took under his wing. Unable to reject her despite her history because she reminded him so much of himself. She reminded Carol so much of herself. It would have eaten him up inside to let her suffer the same ways they did all those years ago, with full knowledge that she would have ended in a far worse predicament.

He struggled to not let himself doze off there on the table, lost in the thought of just living in some sort of comfort with the people he cared about the most.

He heard the rip of medical tape and felt the softness of gauze brushing over his skin, snapping him out of his light sleep. Pressure from Carol’s hands sent another shiver up his spine has she applied the bandage to his right hip where the fence had dug into his skin during his frantic escape.

Comforting silence ensued between them. Just being there together is all they needed. Lydia had opted to do night watch, not allowing Carol to take her shift to tend to Daryl, and definitely not allowing Daryl to commit to the duty either after today’s life-risking events.

She smoothed the padding over his skin, careful not to touch the jagged wound she so carefully cleaned. Her hands drifted from his hip to the centre of his back. Began tracing each raised line and bump scattered across his skin. She knew these were there before. Before the dead rose and stole the world away from them. She had seen them all those years ago, back at Herschel’s farm. After he’d nearly killed himself looking for her daughter. Resting in the bed when she told him how thankful she was. How he was every bit as good as them. As Shane, as Rick. She teared up at that flashback to the farm. How he fought tooth and nail for her daughter, donning another mark on his side from his own arrow in an attempt to find her. Although the effort was futile – it showed her a side of him she hadn’t seen before. And he still held those qualities now. How he fought to keep Lydia here. Fought to keep her safe from Alpha. She heard him exhale deeply again. How could a man so brave, so selfless deserve these scars? He never had told Carol much about his previous life. But she knew he had suffered some form of abuse. Like her. Like Lydia.

“Merle?” She traced over one of the larger scars.

He looked up over his shoulder briefly meeting her eyes, before shaking his head and dropping his weary gaze to the floor again.

“No.” He almost whispered “M’ father.” He winced as he heard the crack of his father’s belt whipping across his back sharply. The sound cutting through the air like a knife as it made contact with his skin. Felt his own blood dripping down much like the warm salt water did minutes ago.

She placed her hand flat on his shoulder blade, hurting for him. “I’m sorry.”

“S’ okay.”

She resumed her tracing, this time though without asking about the scars. She didn’t want to bring back any more memories for him. She knew them all too well herself.

She felt the bump of what she suspected to be a knife wound on his left shoulder. Looking more recent than the welts of the scars he gained in a former life. But still years in age.

“Saviours. That ones from the saviours. Before we knew who they were.”

She was surprised by his opening up but welcomed the release of his pent-up secrets.

“I blew ‘em up. Sometimes wonder if things woulda been different if I hadn’t… but they were gonna kill Sasha and Abraham. Had ta do something.” His voice shook on the last sentence. Years of buried guilt washing over him, conflicted with the pull of desperation.

“You didn’t know.” Carol replied, hearing his breathing speed up, gasps escaping his lungs. “You were protecting your family. You were – are – so brave. Don’t forget that. Please.” She pleaded with him and placed a gentle kiss over the scar, staying there briefly with her eyes closed. Wishing the pain away, but also wishing they were this close all the time, under different circumstances. Daryl felt a wave of warmth rush over him from her touch.

Her other hand faintly brushed over an X-shaped brand on his left hip, opposite the fresh bandage. She looked up at him, concerned. This was a deliberate scar, its shape too perfect to be any form of accident. It was a brand of some sort, horrified at the possibilities of how he had acquired it. But she felt him tense up as she studied its shape. A sharp breath inwards, stiffening his torso signalling his lack of comfort with that particular mutilation. He shook his head and she knew to move on. It was a secret he wasn’t ready to uncover to her. And that was okay.

Her hand travelled to his right shoulder, concentrating on what was most definitely a gunshot wound. She remembered patching it up that night in the house by the Kingdom. When Daryl had found her after she sent herself into the false comfort of isolation. A pang of guilt snuck through her. Why she had taken herself away when her family needed her. He needed her.

He felt her hand pause abruptly against him, preoccupied with her own intensifying thoughts of guilt, and he grabbed her hand, pulling it over to the front of his chest where the exit wound was. Showing her how it had healed, partly thanks to her fixing up the dressing and keeping infection away. He tried to keep her guilt away, as if it too were an infection.

“The doctor at the Sanctuary. He tried to fix it,” his shoulder often ached with arthritis set on by the gunshot wound. Likely that there were still fragments of the bullet inside him, grinding against bone chips blasted out of place, “Did a’right though.”

There was a long pause before Carol responded cautiously, “What do you mean at the Sanctuary?”

Shit. He’d never made her aware that he’d been held captive by them. She didn’t need that knowledge in her life. She had enough shit to deal with. But he was caught out now.

“Daryl, what happened at the Sanctuary?” She perched herself up sitting cross-legged on the table behind him, pulling him to face her, but his aching shoulder, even more weary from the week’s trip restricted the movement.

He sighed, “After Negan…. After Abe and Glenn. They took me. Wanted to make me one of em’. I was their prisoner. He-Negan, tried to break me. Get me to kneel. Would offer me a nice room, then beat me up. I ate fuckin’ dog food for weeks.” He laughed at the last sentence, trying to hide the pain the memories brought back. “I couldn’t though. I wouldn’t break. Couldn’t do that to Rick. To Alexandria.” He began struggling again, his voice wavering and breathy. “I should’ve told ya.”

“And I shouldn’t have left you.” She returned. She just wanted to try her hardest to take his pain away but she knew she couldn’t no matter how persistent she was. But she could be there to help him through it. Although she wasn’t there then, she was here now. And she wasn’t going to leave ever again.

She wrapped her other arm around his waist, hugging him from behind and resting her head on his shoulder. His skin tickled as he felt the softness of her breath touch his bare skin, trickling lightly over his collarbone.

They stayed in that moment for a while. Sharing each other’s touch, hoping to make up for all the times when they couldn’t.

She opened her eyes, snapping herself out when she noticed both of them drifting to sleep there, upright on the kitchen table.

“Daryl,”

“Hm?”

She concentrated on his hand that had subconsciously intertwined with her own some time during the evening. Noticed another scar, a series of jagged, yet uniform knots, wrapping themselves around his wrist. She lifted his hand with her own off his chest, turning his wrist and inspecting the marks.

“A bite?”

“The dog. Damn mutt was too scared to realise I was trying to help him when he got caught up in a trap.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.” She joked, referring to his hostile and defensive ways when they first met. How she stopped him from pulling away on the farm and he didn’t know how to handle his own emotions, throwing it all back in her face.

“Stop.”

The exchange made them both giggle, a smirk bursting through Daryl’s sombre expression as Carol dropped his hand, covering her own face as she laughed. This moment here, Daryl could live in forever. This is what he wanted. What he needed. After ten years of being out there, risking his life, staring death in the face so many times to escape by the skin of his teeth.

“Carol,” He spoke, his changing tone catching her attention more so than the use of her name. She hopped down from the table, dragged the kitchen stool to face him. She sat, crossing a leg and resting her chin on her hand, elbow resting on her knee, mere inches from his face.

His eyes made solid contact with hers “I don’t wanna be out there anymore.”

“What do you mean?” She tilted her head, brows crossed.

“Abraham asked me once if I ever thought about settling down. I-I thought never in a million years. In this world? Impossible. Hell, even before the world went ta shit I never believed I’d be some bullshit cliché nuclear family man – a white picket fence, kids and a dog.” His words practically vomited from his mouth. Years of emotion, thoughts he buried and hid from himself as soon as they were conceived were spilling out, breaching its walls. Spreading like antibodies to an infection. “But I’m tired, Carol.” He dropped his head into his hands, wiping his face down.

Carol reached out to him then, tucking his hair back off his face. Running her fingers through his locks longer than what was necessary.

He looked back up at her, “I jus’ wanna be here. With you. With Lydia. With our family.” He swallowed hard. “I miss you Carol. A whole damn lot. Every time I go out there, all I wanna do is be back home by ya side. And I think m’ ready for that.”

Carol teared up at his declaration. She had known deep down inside she’d always loved him. But she couldn’t admit it to herself either. She thought that the King would fulfil her needs of family. Of home. But when her son died she realised it was all just a play. A façade, hiding herself from the truth with a fairy tail. But she knew it was different with Daryl. Because although Lydia had brought them closer together again, Daryl had always felt like home to her. Right from the beginning.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I’m gonna slack off and sit inside all day not pulling my weight. I ain’t no deadbeat. But I can’t – I can’t pretend that I’m better off out there by myself risking my life when the truth is I’m better off with you.” He was open and vulnerable, pleading to her for mercy. The last thing he needed right now was her rejection – he felt in that scenario he’d turn himself out to the wilderness for good. His eyes pierced hers and she was so proud of him. So in love with the man staring back at her, wounds and soul laid out bare for her to mangle and carve in any way she wanted. And all she wanted to do was bandage them up, kiss every one of them and pray to God that they would heal in time with her love. Save him from the nightmares he’d endured. Her eyes flickered down to his lips briefly before meeting his eyes again and she swore she saw him nod ever so slightly before she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him into her kiss. Deep and desperate, but slow. Meaningful. Tears of pure relief streamed down both of their cheeks, feeling the salty warmth of each other’s on their skin.

[moviegroovies]

y’all i saw terminator: dark fate!!!!!!!!!

GOD i loved it. i think i’ve admitted before that the only way i really rank exciting plot points in movies is by how much i anticipated them/wanted them to happen, and terminator: dark fate did NOT disappoint. fuck every writer or director who makes weird shit happen in their stories just to give the audience a story they couldn’t possibly have anticipated. (cough avengers endgame cough.) sometimes the best ending is one you can see from ten miles away, because that means it’s been set up EFFICIENTLY. 

obviously, i think the new terminator did that. there were a few things i wanted to happen that didn’t (mostly regarding the life of one or two key characters), and a few things i legitimately didn’t see coming that i really liked, but ultimately the story was solid, awesome to watch, and very faithful to the original. i haven’t seen any of the sequels past judgement day, and i have no plans to change that anytime soon (lmao), but i’ve heard that it discounts all continuity past the second one, and that’s completely fine by me. the actors were great. LINDA HAMILTON was great. and i am sexually attracted to old soft arnold schwarzenneger. 😔

i was debating on whether or not i should make a separate post to talk about the time travel in the terminator franchise or if i should just go crazy go stupid and lump it in with my review and ultimately i think it can just go here, because i have some things to say re: the way it ties back to the originals. 

personally i think the neatest example of time shenanigans in the franchise comes from the very first movie. that one sets up time travel in their universe as very “you already changed the past,” insofar as, without the time travel elements, there is the very real sense that the future the terminator came from would never have existed. kyle reese, from the future, becomes the father of his superior officer john connor. without the time travel, there would be no human resistance for skynet to fear. not only that, when the terminator’s arm is left behind intact, even after sarah destroys the machine, they set out the idea that skynet itself was DEVELOPED FROM THE TERMINATOR’S TECHNOLOGY, so if there was no time travel, there was no skynet, and no apocalypse... etc. at the end of the movie, the picture of sarah that kyle comes back with is taken by a child at a gas station, and it seems like a clue that everything is happening on track. sarah will give birth to john connor, the machines will rise up, the resistance will rally, time travel will ensue. the events of the first movie are a closed time loop, and ultimately, i find that really satisfying. 

However. 

from a narrative perspective, i think the changes in those time travel mechanics are super interesting. 

basically, in judgement day, there’s still some implications that the timeline is a closed loop--the terminator’s hand is actually shown to be the basis of what will become the skynet computer, which is being built right then and there. the apocalypse could indeed be on, and everything seems fixed. then, though, they find the creator of the computer, and miles bennett helps them to destroy his work in horror at what he will create. skynet never happens. they change the future. 

by dark fate, that ability to change what is “written” becomes not only a plot point, but a sort of rallying cry. the skynet apocalypse is officially off--now the dark future is controlled by a very similar breed of computer known as legion. sarah’s efforts changed the future, permanently. there’s the feeling perhaps that the future can only be changed to an extent (the skynet apocalypse being canceled, but replaced by a very similar robo-hell, for example--almost like the timeline is trying to set itself right), but that feeling is tested and challenged as the movie progresses. in that sense, dark fate is the full culmination of the trendline that their “trilogy” represents: sarah’s fate was sealed in dark fate, but with john’s influence in judgement day, things were officially set off course. dark fate represented dani’s turn, and she took everything into her own hands--she personally stood up and refused to run, refused to let the bad future win out, refused to take things lying down. sarah felt a kinship to her, based on the position that she found her in, but it’s like she realizes--dani is not sarah. sarah’s realization is that “she’s john,” which is closer--she’s the leader of the resistance, humanity’s only hope, but i think the message is pretty clearly telling us that she’s not john connor either--she’s dani ramos. 

and she fucking OWNS.

one thing that i was a little iffy about at the start of the movie was the “white savior” thing. i don’t think that was an unfounded reservation to have--based on the formula from the first movie, a terminator is sent back to kill, and a hero is sent back to protect. this time, the “hero” is a white girl cyborg named grace, while the character in danger, who the movie clearly wants you to think is in the same boat as sarah connor, ie the mother mary role, literally important not for her own self but for her womb, is a mexican woman. that could have reached unfortunate implication levels like hella fast, but honestly (and i will disclaim this by adding that i’m white, so if you felt differently about it i would appreciate hearing why), i think the rest of the movie subverted that pretty beautifully. for one thing, grace being fundamentally human underneath her augmentation meant that she wasn’t an unstoppable machine ready to continue on until her metal frame was torn to shreds. she was a BADASS, obviously, and in the first fight, grace did prove herself a worthy successor to the “uncle bob” terminator in t2 with her kickass skillz (sorry kyle reese you’re just not that cool), but soon after that we got to see grace’s limits. if it hadn’t been for sarah connor, grace’s plan on the bridge finally boiled down to “when the terminator starts to kill me, run.” soon after that, grace’s power is shown to be fallible even more thoroughly when she hits her limit and starts to convulse, a byproduct of her augmentation. grace can do more than what a human can do, but she can’t do it forever like a machine could. very quickly in the movie, the tables were flipped, and even though grace came back through time to protect dani, dani was the one who had to take over the driver’s seat (despite never having driven before), and the one responsible for getting grace to medicine so that she could be resuscitated. and all that was BEFORE the big reveal.

a note: there were two scenes in pretty quick succession in this sequence that made me sob. the first of these was the death of dani’s brother diego, because in his last act, he was reassuring his sister that he was okay, despite being impaled by a metal pole. that line gave his character some depths that i hadn’t expected, and it really made dani’s pain after the car went up feel palpable. diego didn’t get a lot of screentime, but we saw him flirt lamely with a neighbor, we saw him dream of internet fame, we saw him joke at the factory even as his job was being replaced. we saw how much dani cared about him when she told him to take her job while she sorted out his replacement by machine parts. their relationship was a solid brick in the movie’s foundation, and his loss felt a lot more real than many comparable losses in movies. you know that whole “show, don’t tell” adage? they didn’t have to tell me that losing diego (and her father) was like a knife in dani. i saw that for myself. the second scene was at the pharmacy, when the employees and the other customers reached out to help grace even after she and dani had both lashed out and threatened them with the gun in fear of what was happening. y’all ever get emotional over the way that people are essentially good and will help each other when they can? god i fucking love that.

anyway, the reveal. the reveal was awesome. 

i started suspecting that dani wasn’t the mother of humanity’s last hope, but rather, humanity’s last hope herself, during the conversation on the train telling us exactly the opposite. sarah makes some assumptions and projects her experience onto dani, telling her flat out that she’s pretty much a walking incubator for humanity’s last hope. there’s a sense that sarah might be bitter about having that role handed to her, and perhaps even more so because it was then taken away--she lost the son that she risked everything for, fought two terminators for, and for nothing: for some machines in a future that no longer existed. in that scene though, crucially, grace never says anything to confirm sarah’s assumptions. the one character with knowledge of the future doesn’t impart it, and it shows. sarah knows things that dani doesn’t simply because it’s not her first rodeo, but she’s also wrong sometimes, too. again in the kitchen later, the “carl” terminator asks about grace’s mission, but she doesn’t share it or give any information on who dani is going to turn out to be. the absence of information can often be an answer all in itself, and the reveal had some EXCELLENT groundwork throughout the movie--both in grace’s actions and in the brave and heroic actions of dani herself.

dani’s nature and grace’s past being revealed in the plane was one of the best scenes in perhaps the entire franchise. i said i sobbed at those scenes i outlines before, right? yeah, that was nothing to how hard i was crying and also cringey stimming during the reveal. we got to see a peek of dani ramos some twenty years in the future, and she’s incredible. she’s fearless, she’s tough, but crucially, she’s still kind. she takes no shit, but she not only saves a child’s life, but she offers a new one to the thugs who were chasing her. in just one scene, the way that dani bands a resistance together is obvious: she’s the best of us, and she uses that for good.

god, i love dani ramos. 

the way that ultimately, dani takes the “hero” role over for herself (much like sarah did, honestly) and the way that we get to see grace’s weaknesses make them a very balanced pair. they’re both badass women in their own right (hell, sarah is, too), and they counter each other excellently. grace is augmented, and has physical capabilities that dani can’t match. at the same time, though, dani is willing to make risks that grace isn’t, because while grace’s concern rests on the fate of one woman, dani wants to find the best outcome for everyone--including herself, but not ending there. grace is willing to drop dani at the bottom of a mineshaft, if that’s what it takes to keep her safe. dani is willing to sacrifice her safety to face the confrontation that’s looming, because that’s what it takes to move forward. 

i think one of the coolest things about the movie is that both grace and sarah come into the action with more experience in combat than dani, and more knowledge about the situation than dani, but ultimately the movie shows that they aren’t infallible, and there’s never a moment when dani is punished for naivety or made to feel stupid because she wasn’t as informed as them. both grace and sarah, in fact, are openly shown to be wrong about dani in different ways--grace knows who she’s going to become, intimately, but that closeness makes her too reluctant to put dani near the front lines, choosing to run indefinitely from the terminator rather than face it head on and use every advantage they can get to beat it. sarah, meanwhile, respects dani’s agency more, but in a way she sees past her at the start of the movie, dismissing her importance in a way that reads as sarah dismissing her own--she’s attacking herself and using dani as a proxy, but sarah’s wrong, because dani isn’t her. i love how both grace and sarah are good characters, and they’re both doing what they think is necessary and right, but they’re allowed to be wrong and misguided. ultimately, if it wasn’t for dani’s own agency and choices, the terminator would not have been defeated, and there would be no hope for subverting the bad future everyone is waiting for.

fate, believe it or not, is a very present theme in dark fate. obviously, i talked earlier about how this movie is the culmination of the “you can’t change the future” ->  “you can change the future?” -> “you can change the future.” chain of events represented in the good terminator movies that i will acknowledge, but it’s more than just that. through the character of the “carl” terminator, we also get to see the blatant subversion of one’s nature for the better, and that was just. really epic. ngl.

in terminator 2, i enjoyed how john connor was protected by the reprogrammed terminator “uncle bob,” but i was a little disappointed by the execution. having uncle bob be a protector to john was exactly what i wanted, but the explanation that he had been programmed to do so rubbed me a little the wrong way. what i didn’t realize until i watched dark fate was that this pinged as wrong because dark fate gave me what i wanted: a terminator that didn’t change sides because he was taken down and forced to change, but rather, a terminator that actually made a conscious decision to be better because of what he observed in humanity. carl saw a familial dynamic and realized that he had taken that from sarah, and reached out to her, giving her a purpose like his family had given him a purpose, because he chose to. and that was the sexiest thing he could have done.

can you tell i LOVE what they did with the terminator. his arc and sarah’s were such awesome continuations for sarah’s general history and the progression of terminators played by arnold schwarzenneger. part of me was hoping for an ending where we saw sarah and carl drive off together, waving to dani and preparing to live out the rest of their years saving the future. yeah, well, we didn’t get that, but there were several scenes that hinted at forgiveness from sarah (an almost impossible feat given how she felt and what she lost) and trust between the two of them, and i loved that too.

dark fate was a good movie, y’all. it was so good. 

there’s probably a million other things that i could talk about going down this vein, but this post is already a monster. i’ll just sign out by saying: one last thing i thought was epic and cool was how the protagonists cross the border from mexico into the us and at no point is such an action demonized; in fact, it’s necessary for them to reach essential aid in the form of carl, and the man who facilitates the action, dani’s uncle, is never treated amorally or like a criminal. i know, i know, the bar is on the fucking floor, but in the political climate we’ve got, for a blockbuster to take that stance felt like a pretty solid statement to me. 

also, i liked the terminator’s line about texas. watching that in a theater in texas, i must report that it got the biggest audience reaction out of any line in the whole movie. folks, there were wolf whistles. ciao.

[fontasticcrablettes]

I posted about a Raven and Rita headcanon/AU a few days ago and, well, made a quick fic out of it.  1.5k, just a short scene. 

“Hey, kid.”  Raven grinned and leaned against the doorframe.

Yuri, already in his underclothes and ready for bed, held the door and prepared to shut it in the old man’s face in a second. “Is something up?”  He was tired.  They had stopped at the Comet in Zaphias to rest and prepare before heading to Tarquaron, and Yuri had been looking forward sleeping in his own bed one last time before the final push.

Raven rubbed a hand on the back of his neck and hesitated around his words.  “I was just… y’know, wonderin’ if you’d be up ta chattin’ a bit before we set tout tomorrow.”

Yuri wanted to go back to bed.  Repede, curled up in his familiar spot on the floor, glanced up at him.  But Raven looked anxious, obviously had something on his mind, and wouldn’t have bothered Yuri if he didn’t want to have more than just a simple chat.  “Sure thing, old man, but don’t keep me up too late.” He opened his door wider to let Raven in.

Raven settled himself into the chair by Yuri’s little table.  “Mind if I get a drink?”

Yuri waved his hand while sitting on his bad. “Help yourself.”  He watched Raven pour water from the pitcher and stall for time. He was starting to get worried about what could be distressing Raven this much, but sat quietly and let him talk when he was finally ready.

“I wanna tell ya a little story.  Bear with me, alright?  Way back when I was a lad, younger than you even, I was a knight here in Zaphias.”

Yuri pulled his legs up and settled in for the story.

“And even back then, I was… well, Raven the Great has always been a hit with the ladies,” he winked at Yuri, but when Yuri’s deadpan expression didn’t change, dropped his smile.  “Anyway.  There was this girl.  She and I… we had a thing a couple of times, but nothing real serious.  Then I found out my platoon was getting’ shipped off ta Desier, to reinforce Mt. Temza during the war.  I went over just ta say goodbye and well… she told me….”  Raven clutched the glass and took a sip. “Look, I thought it was a lie ta get me ta stay.”  He pulled his gaze up to meet Yuri’s eyes.  “I didn’t think she was tellin’ the truth.  If I had really thought she was – that there was gonna be a baby – I would have… I don’t know, stayed behind? Ah, who knows.”

Tiredness was already slipping away and Yuri’s interest in the story had spiked.  “Hold on. Are you saying you have a kid?”

Raven grimaced.  “I… think so.  Like I said, I didn’t think she was tellin’ the truth. I went off ta Temza and, well, you know how that worked out.  I didn’t come back ta Zaphias for a few months, and by then I was Schwann and tryin’ ta put my old life behind me.  I never talked ta that girl again, and she didn’t recognize me as Schwann, and I never thought about her claiming ta be pregnant the night before I left.”

“Is there a reason you’re thinking about this now?”

Raven held up a hand.  “Hold on, it gets even more complicated.  So, flash forward a handful of years.  I’m at a political function and I overhear some nobles gossipin’. I overhear that girl’s name and listen in.  Apparently, she had just died.  Someone asked about the father of her child… and the guy said it was some useless lout of a knight called Atomais who disappeared after the pregnancy started.”

Yuri frowned. “Atom-?”

“That was my old name,” Raven waved the interruption away.  “So, yeah. She had a kid.  The kid was now six years old.  My kid.”

Yuri had to whistle in amazement.  “Damn.  Where’s the kid now?  Did you meet them?”

Raven shifted uncomfortably.  “Hold on tight, ‘cause this story is still rampin’ up. You know what they said?  When one of them asked what had happened to the kid? He said the little girl was some prodigy and she’d been sent to Aspio to train under the mages there.  The girl I’d slept with?  Yeah.  Her family was called Mordio.”

Yuri sat motionless on the bed.  He’d experienced too many shocking revelations in too shot a time.  He only pulled himself together because Raven was staring at him expectantly, clearly hoping for some sort of reaction.  “So… how positive are you that Rita is…?”

Raven shrugged with a pained expression. “Maybe… 95?  How many other child prodigy mages named Mordio who are fifteen years old could there be?”

“Yeah, that was almost definitely Rita’s mother, but there’s still a chance you’re not the father.  Right?”

“Maybe?  She told me she wasn’t seein’ anyone else, and she seemed certain it was mine the last night we talked.”

“…Damn.”

“I know, right?”  

“You’ve known since you met Rita?”

Raven gave a half-committed shrug.  “I’ve suspected.  Obviously I didn’t want ta think it was possible at first, but it’s been gettin’ harder ta ignore.”

“So… why are you telling me?”

“We’re heading ta Tarquaron tomorrow, aren’t we?” Raven frowned and leaned back.  “I couldn’t stop thinking… I might die tomorrow, and I’m the only one who knows.  I guess I just wanted someone else to know, to maybe tell her one day.”

“I get that, but I mean, why are you telling me?  Why not just tell Rita?”

Raven’s thoughtful expression turned to terror.  “She’d kill me.  Assumin’ she believed me, she’d murder me right there.  ‘Course, I can’t say I wouldn’t deserve it – not like I’ve been a stellar father.”

“So what, you want me to tell her for you and take the brunt of her anger?”

“No, no, I don’t want you ta tell her at all! If anything happens to me tomorrow, then… you can tell her when she’s old, if she starts looking for answers about her past.”

“Alright.  I won’t tell.”  Yuri hesitated, because this was between Rita and Raven and he didn’t want to tell other people what to do with their lives.  This situation, though….  He took a deep breath and shook his head.  “I won’t tell her, but I think you should.”

“Ya really think so?”

“Honestly, I don’t have a clue who my dad is.  I’ve always….”  And here he had to mull over his words again because it made him uncomfortable to say aloud, but Rita was his friend and if she had a chance to avoid a stress that had plagued him all his life, he owed it to her to speak up. “I sure wish I knew.  Do what you want, but from someone who’s got a big question mark over 50% of his family tree, it really sucks.  Rita deserves to know the truth.”

Raven nodded slowly, face lined with thought.  “Don’t you think Rita’d be happier with a blank slate than with this old man?”

“I think she’s going to be furious and she’s going to make your reception at the Heracles look like a hug, to be honest.  It’ll probably pass, though.  There are worse people to be related to.”

“Oh yeah?  Like who?”

Yuri smirked and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Don’t put me on the spot like this, old man.  Zagi comes to mind, maybe?”

Raven managed a laugh through his stress.  “Hey, I’m not that bad!”

“Point that out to Rita.  It might help.”

“Alright, alright….  I’ll do it.  Just, not tonight.  I’ll wait until after Tarquaron, ‘cause I think we all have enough stress to worry about as long as the Adephagos is up there.”  Raven rose and gave Yuri a nodded.  “Thanks, kid.”

“No problem.  But yeah, don’t tell her until after Tarquaron.  You’re not entirely useless in battle so it’s better if she doesn’t break your legs until after tomorrow.”

Raven cringed.  “Stop scaring me or I’ll lose my nerve.”

He left and Yuri flopped back on his bed.  He stared at the ceiling, ready to finally sleep, but now he couldn’t stop thinking.  Picturing the old man as a father was bizarre enough, even without inserting Rita as the child in question.  Rita was going to be furious, but at the same time, Yuri couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy.  He kinda wished his own father would suddenly reveal himself, just so he could know who the asshole was and have a chance to punch him in the face.  

He yawned and rolled over.  The old man wasn’t really all that bad, he thought, so it was a shame that Rita was definitely going to murder him.  

[bevioletskies]

Starmora prompt to consider: Gamora and Peter are in college together and have to work on a project together.

songs in this fic: dance with me by orleans, the closer i get to you by roberta flack & donny hathawayword count: 3.7k | ao3

In the three years he’d been in college, Peter had come to learn he had a particular aversion to certain two-word phrases. Among them: morning lectures, waitlisted classes, mandatory attendance, cumulative exams, and the oh-so-dreaded…

Assigned partners.

It wasn’t that Peter didn’t like working with other people. In fact, unlike most students, he generally loved the experience. He was curious about others by nature, and getting along with people was never much of a chore for him. In any group project, even with just three people in it, he could find kinship with at least one other member. Assigned partners, however, was a different story. Especially when said assigned partner was the infamous Gamora (no last name, as far as he knew, anyway).

She was well-known around their sizable college on Xandar for a handful of reasons, most which were rather tragic. Gamora was the last living member of the Zehoberei race, largely in part to her adoptive father, Thanos. She and her sister, Nebula, were generally quite reserved when it came to sharing their private lives, but anyone could dig up old news articles and learn that they had only been rescued from their violent upbringing at the age of fifteen, leaving them physically and emotionally scarred for life. They hid it well, though, keeping their chins up despite some of the nasty comments that immature classmates threw their way.

Beyond that, Gamora was part of several different clubs and organizations, with ambitions of getting into law school. She hardly spoke in class, but she had the highest grades in just about everything, constantly booking private office hours with her professors to make her goals known. Peter could admire her drive from a distance, sure, but getting to know her up close?

“Don’t think that you’ll have it easy because you’re partnered with me,” Gamora said, dropping into the seat beside him, her bag slamming down with a loud thunk. “If you slack off, Quill, our TA will hear about it.”

Peter blinked. “Hi to you too, it’s so great to meet you,” he said dryly.

Getting to know her up close was…interesting, to say the least.

“I’m serious. I’ve seen your posts on the class discussion forums, or should I say, your lack of them?” Gamora’s lip curled. “I’m not carrying you through this class. It’s a prerequisite for two of my fourth-year classes.”

“Hey, same here,” Peter said with a surprised chuckle. “What’s your major, anyways?”

“Sociology. Yours?” It was the kindest thing she’d said to him so far, though Peter suspected it was more of reflexive habit than an actual desire to know.

“Education.” Peter turned away briefly to accept the project outline that was being passed around, grabbing one for each of them before looking back at her. He’d never been so physically up-close to her before, surprised and a little bit disturbed to see thin slivers of metal visible underneath her skin. That certainly wasn’t a Zehoberei physical trait; it had to have been the result of Thanos’s cruelty.

“I didn’t know education majors had to take communication courses,” Gamora said. She still refused to meet his eyes, instead opting to skim over the project outline. “We have to collect primary research and present a proposal to the entire class.”

“So…every college project ever,” Peter snorted. “Why is this even done in partners?”

“Because we have to be each other’s opposition.” Gamora tapped her finger on Peter’s sheet, right where the criteria said exactly as such. “That’s clever, actually. Means that you can’t rely on me to do everything for you.”

“I don’t know where you’re gettin’ the idea that I’m a slacker,” Peter protested. Gamora gave him a pointed look.

“You don’t participate in class or in the online discussions, I overheard you asking our TA at least twice if the final was cumulative when it says so on the syllabus, and you snored during our last three lectures,” she said, getting to her feet. “Excuse me for being cautious.” She hoisted her bag over her shoulder. “Meet me in the student lounge in the Nova building tomorrow? I don’t have class, so it’s up to you when we meet.”

“I was gonna…ugh.” Peter let out a resigned sigh. Clearly, his plans to head into the city and skulk around the pawn shops for Yondu were going to have to wait. “I’ll be there at noon.”

“Don’t be late,” Gamora called over her shoulder as she made her way down the steps of the lecture hall. Peter could only watch her go with a shake of his head, wondering what exactly his professor had gotten him into.______

To Gamora’s surprise, Peter arrived five minutes early (she had been here ten minutes ago, but still). He looked for all the world like he’d just rolled out of bed, his hair a rumpled mess, the collar of his T-shirt woefully lopsided. Peter dropped his bag into the seat opposite her and sank into the cushion with a labored groan. “Just woke up?”

“Nah, early morning shift.” Peter cracked his knuckles, satisfied with the way they popped. Gamora looked vaguely disgusted. “I work at the radio station.”

“Really?” For the first time, Gamora sounded genuinely interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah, I do the playlists and social media. Sometimes I help edit the announcements and current events stuff,” Peter shrugged. He began unloading his bag, yanking out his laptop and project outline. “You, uh, you write for the newspaper, right?”

“Among other things, yes,” Gamora said neatly, directing her attention back to her own screen. “We don’t really pay much attention to the radio station, though, except for that disastrous fundraiser you attempted last semester.”

“Hey, there are plenty of rich kids around here who would love to get their ships washed,” Peter said defensively.

“But by students in swimsuits? That’s dangerously archaic and a tad suggestive,” Gamora replied, though she chuckled softly as she said it. “We got plenty of quotes from the administration about your little stunt, enough for a front page spread. It was a busy week.”

“Welcome Week usually is,” Peter laughed. “So, you have any topics in mind yet?”

“It still has to be related to some aspect of communication,” Gamora pondered aloud, leaning back into her seat. “Something that can even have opposing ideas. We gather and present the same primary data, but we have to come to different conclusions.”

Peter hummed to himself, drumming his fingers against his keyboard thoughtfully. Another minute or two passed before he let out an excited shout, startling a few students trying to sleep on the beanbag chairs nearby. “I got it!”

“That was fast,” Gamora said, eyeing him curiously. “Go on, then.”

“What makes a better communicator - an introvert or an extrovert?” Peter smiled at her triumphantly. “C’mon, you can’t tell me that isn’t good.”

Gamora twirled her pen between her fingers, nodding slowly. “You know…that isn’t half-bad.” Peter pumped his fist in the air in victory. “But how would we measure it? Based on what kind of data? What constitutes an unbiased conclusion?”

Peter clapped his hands together, rubbing them vigorously. “Let’s start with an abstract and go from there, yeah?”

She quirked her brow, setting her pen down. “Sounds like a plan. I’m impressed, Quill. You might be smarter than you look.”

His grin widened. “Hey, I have good ideas every now and then.” He turned his laptop towards her, open to a blank word document. “After you.”______

Meeting outside of class hours became a weekly occurrence for the two, usually in the Nova student lounge. It was mostly out of necessity - after all, there was only so much they could communicate via text and email - but occasionally Peter would send her an extra message or two that wasn’t related to the project at all.

Saw your article this morning - do you have a personal vendetta against the radio station or something D:

I think your sister literally ran into me in the admin building like five minutes ago does she always look this angry or did I do something please help

Did they not have memes on Zehoberei?? Is that why you aren’t responding to the last three I sent you

“We didn’t have Internet on Zehoberei, Quill,” Gamora sighed as she sat beside him in the lecture hall one day. Peter startled at her sudden presence; she had never voluntarily elected to sit with him before. “And ignore Nebula, she’s just…tempestuous.”

“So you do have something against the radio station,” Peter said teasingly. “What’d music and campus news ever do to you?”

“Nothing, I just think it’s an inefficient way of communicating. All your reports are looped every fifteen minutes, which means whenever someone tunes in, they either miss a portion of it or miss it entirely,” Gamora pointed out. “All the newspaper’s articles are published online, which students can access whenever they want.”

“You’re against the old-school, huh?” Peter hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat. His shoulder brushed hers as he did. “I see how it is.”

“Did you pull something when you jumped to that conclusion?” Gamora said dryly, though to her surprise, Peter merely laughed, shaking his head in amusement. The genuine warmth of the sound made her shiver. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, still chuckling. “You busy tonight?”

“We’re meeting on Thursday, aren’t we?” Gamora asked, frowning.

“Sure, but if you’re free…I’d like to change your mind.” Peter smiled.

Gamora hesitated, which in her mind, already said something about herself. She was planning on doing her usual evening routine - attempt to meet up with her sister, only to get spurned for one reason or another, and instead spend the rest of the night licking her wounds and doing homework in her dorm room, alone. But for some reason, the offer sounded rather appealing. “Fine, but I’ll still be bringing my laptop, whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t take the entire night off.”______

The grass was still slightly damp from the afternoon sprinklers as Gamora crossed the lawn into unfamiliar territory. There were certain areas of the school’s campus she’d never been to, considering most of her classes resided in two buildings on the other side of the quad. The stars in the night sky twinkled mischievously from up above as she paused outside the door, urging her to knock. With an inhale of anticipation, she neatly rapped her knuckles against its surface.

“Quill?” she called. The door swung open, revealing a cheerful-looking Peter, wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing earlier, only now he had a pair of headphones slung around his neck and a small device hanging on his belt.

“Hey, welcome to the den.” He stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in. She glanced around as she did, taking in her surroundings. It looked less like a radio station’s quarters, and more like a typical dorm room, with random junk strewn about. Records, tapes, and seemingly disassembled electronics were packed and stacked on nearly every surface, including the single worn loveseat that sat opposite the broadcasting booth. A student that Gamora vaguely recognized from one of her old language classes was inside, speaking animatedly into the microphone, while Peter’s bag and schoolwork seemed to be set up on a small desk by the equipment.

Peter took a minute to clear off the couch, carrying his laptop over and motioning for her to join him. They sat down together, watching the radio host in amicable silence for a few minutes before Gamora finally spoke. “Somehow, this is exactly what I pictured.”

“Okay, so we’re not as fancy as the newspaper office,” Peter shrugged. “We…we’re cozy.”

“When were you at the newspaper?” Gamora asked, pulling out her own laptop. She was beginning to suspect Peter didn’t have much planned besides spending the evening in each other’s company, which admittedly wasn’t as terrible of a plan as it might have sounded a couple months ago when they first began working together.

“I, uh, might’ve had a crush on the culture reporter, Bereet,” Peter confessed. “She was in one of my film study electives, and she seemed to know her stuff about movies, and I wanted to see if she’d be interested in my contributions on music in film. Turns out she’s kind of a Top 40 girl. Which isn’t, like, bad or anything, just…she didn’t really wanna hear anything I had to offer or say.”

“She means well, but she is…particular,” Gamora said carefully. “Anyways, what am I doing here?”

Peter unwound the headphones from his neck and held them out to her. Gamora accepted wordlessly, albeit a little uncertainly, as she slid them snugly over her ears. “Showin’ you what the radio station can do that the newspaper can’t.” He pressed play.

Dance with me, I want to be your partner…can’t you see the music is just starting?…

He watched her nervously, watched as her eyes slid closed and her shoulders dropped as the tension in her body slowly dissipated. She almost seemed to be swaying a little, absorbing the song and its lyrics - or maybe she was drifting off to sleep, he couldn’t quite tell.

Night is falling, and I am falling…dance with me…

When the song finished, Gamora pulled the headphones down to her shoulders, glancing over at him with a soft smile. “It was…pleasant. I liked it.”

Peter grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Gamora gently took the Walkman from him, turning the device over carefully in her hands. “But if you think the newspaper is lacking in music, I think I need to introduce you to streaming services, Quill.” He couldn’t help but laugh again - part of him wanted to be annoyed, but there was something about the way she spoke that left him utterly charmed. “There you go again - what is it?”

“Nothin’, it’s just…you’re funny. I didn’t expect that.” Peter held out his hand for her to give it back. “Here, let me play you another one.”

Gamora pressed it into his palm, their fingertips brushing slightly as she did. She shivered. “I don’t think anyone has ever thought of me as funny before.”

“Well, that’s a shame. Then let me be the first.” Peter couldn’t help but stare a little as she tucked her hair behind her ear before pushing the headphones back into place, shaking himself out of his reverie before pressing play once more.

The closer I get to you…the more you make me see…by giving me all you got…your love has captured me… ______

Semester-long projects, suffice to say, were just about no one’s favorite, but Peter soon found himself dreading its end. After that night, Gamora had become a semi-regular visitor of the radio station, having quickly memorized Peter’s work schedule. She dropped in at least twice a week with leftover pastries from the newspaper office or one the other dozen committees and whatnot that she was a part of. They usually spent the first ten minutes under the guise that they had something to talk about regarding the project, but would then delve into something a little personal, a little more intimate, even.

One night, Gamora had made a rather strange request - that Peter join her in her dorm room instead, and if he had spent a little more time checking himself over in the mirror before leaving, no one had to know. However, when he arrived, she seemed unusually distraught.

Her room was exactly what he expected it to be; neat and well-kept, with everything in its place. There were no extraneous decorations or trinkets to be found, just a perfectly-made bed and organized desk with nothing on the floor but her bookbag. Gamora’s tear-streaked face told a different story. “Gamora, hey, what happened?” He immediately sat on the foot of her bed, wondering if it would be too invasive to reach out into her personal space.

“Do you have a sister, Quill?” she asked.

“Yeah, uh, Mantis, you might know her from - never mind. Did somethin’ happen with Nebula?” Peter said worriedly.

“I didn’t know who else to talk to about it.” Gamora glanced at him almost apologetically. “This probably wasn’t what you were expecting when I texted, but…”

“It’s okay. I was in the neighborhood,” Peter joked, bringing his legs up onto the bed. “I mean, I’d like to think we’re at the point where we can talk about stuff that’s not about class. We’re…friends, right?”

For a moment, Peter internally panicked, wondering if he’d misspoke, as Gamora suddenly looked very odd, like she’d swallowed something sour. She clenched her jaw a little, her brow furrowed upwards, before she finally relaxed, braving a watery smile. “Yes, I think we are.”

Peter spread his arms wide, a rather goofy expression on his face. “So lay it on me. What happened?”

Despite the uneasiness in her stomach about the Nebula situation, Gamora couldn’t help but find her smile widening as she settled in across from Peter, putting her phone aside so she could properly meet his eyes. “It all started earlier this week…or really, to be more accurate, when we were children…”______

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous, Quill.” Gamora smiled almost teasingly as she slid onto the bench beside him, smoothing out her already-crisp blazer. It was presentation day, a day that both of them had been secretly dreading, and they were dressed much nicer than their usual attire, considering professionalism was a big part of their mark. “You’ve got a strange look in your eye.”

“It’s just my face,” Peter protested, though the wrinkle in his brow instantly faded the second Gamora playfully elbowed him in his side. “Are you ready?”

“I’m always ready,” Gamora drawled, smirking, before they both directed their attention to the front of the room.

The next thirty minutes dragged on in nervous anticipation as other groups went up to present. Peter bounced his leg underneath the table until Gamora literally dug her fingers into his knee to get him to stop, her hand remaining there a little longer than necessary. Finally, after what felt like forever, the two of them were called on, and they made their way down the steps.

“Communication and personality are undeniably correlated, but is there causation to be found? Do extroverts have it easier when it comes to expressing themselves and making their ideas heard, or do introverts win out in the end?” Gamora began as Peter pulled up their presentation on the large pull-down screen.

“We conducted fifty interviews with students from different faculties, different backgrounds, different dreams - to come to opposing conclusions about who has it better,” Peter continued, gesturing towards the video that was queued up in front of them. “This includes our colleagues - I work at the radio station, and Gamora works at the school paper. You might think they’re mutually exclusive, but you’d be surprised at what we found.”

Their ten minutes, all things considered, went seamlessly - Peter only fumbled his words once, and Gamora’s voice shook as she spoke of her own experiences as a person that somewhat fell in between what she called the “admittedly narrow definitions” of what it meant to be one or the other. As with any college lecture, the applause they received was obligatory and entirely disinterested, but their professor seemed impressed enough, nodding and laughing in all the right places, asking a few questions at the end that they answered near-flawlessly.

Peter exhaled shakily as they sat back in their seats, both relieved and a little remorseful. “That went okay, right? We did good.”

“We did,” Gamora smiled. “Who knew we would make a half-decent team?”

Class wasn’t over, though, as much as they wanted it to be, and they had to sit through another five presentations. Peter couldn’t help but whisper snarky commentary under his breath to Gamora throughout, in which her reactions would range from rolling her eyes to biting hard on her lip to stop herself from laughing out loud.

When the second-last presentation was halfway done, Gamora glanced down at her phone and, without warning, ducked out of the room in a hurry, her bag in tow. Peter could only stare after her despondently, wondering if that was suddenly it; if by next week, when their professor started their finals review period, she would be sitting at the front again, she would stop visiting the radio station, she would stop talking to him entirely.

Peter practically sprinted out of the lecture hall the second they were dismissed, glancing around for any signs of where Gamora could have gone, though he was sure she was long gone by now. It was only when his eyes drifted a little lower that he spotted her sitting under a nearby tree, smiling hesitantly at him from across the way.

“You sure hightailed it outta there,” Peter commented when he approached her. He was unsure of whether it would be weird for him to sit down. “Something up?”

“My sister texted, she actually wants to have dinner with me tonight,” Gamora said, holding up her phone triumphantly.

“That’s great!” Peter exclaimed, deciding to sit cross-legged beside her. “One step closer to working it out, right?”

“I hope so,” Gamora chuckled in relief. “I thought it would be kind of rude for me to go back inside and interrupt the presenters so…I’m glad you found me.”

“Yeah?” Peter’s heart thumped a little faster. “Why’s that?”

“Well, partially so I could tell you in person why I can’t come to the station tonight,” she replied apologetically, reaching across to take his hand in hers. “But…if you’re free tomorrow night…I have the keys to the newspaper office. You know, for comparison’s sake.”

“You ain’t sick of me yet?” he said disbelievingly.

“Oh, give it some time, Peter, I’m sure it will happen eventually,” Gamora teased. “So is that a yes?”

Peter nodded eagerly, his eyes crinkling in the corners as Gamora gazed up at him, her dark eyes compelling him to say the answer they were both looking for. “It’s a date.”

[bucksnatalia]

a not-so-brief history of buckynat (post-widow hunt)

So a lot has happened with our favorite spy couple in the last few years, so I thought it might be helpful for some shippers who haven’t completely kept up to make a list of everything they’ve been through in that time. So without further ado, here’s a quick guide that no one asked for, starting with:

Black Widow Hunt

This was the unfortunate end of their relationship, not by choice. A fellow ex-Soviet spy, Leo Novokov, grew jealous of Bucky’s success and angry that he never looked for the other agents, so he set out to ruin his life by stealing his girl... pretty literally. He kidnapped and brainwashed Natasha into thinking she was a double agent, sending Bucky and co. on a wild goose chase trying to get her back. They eventually do -- but Natasha’s lost all her memories of Bucky, and he makes the difficult decision not to force her to undergo experimental methods to have her memories regained. (This decision sometimes draws criticism because on the one hand, that isn’t his choice to make -- however, he did not want the doctors to mess with her head on his account, and so here we are.) 

The Electric Ghost

After their separation, Bucky kind of goes off the deep end. Really, he basically quit working for SHIELD and he’s going into bars and beating the crap out of everyone. He’s trying to make peace with his past when Nick Fury comes to him with a mission and pretty much tricks him into helping SHIELD again. From there he ends up fighting Tesla Tarasova, the Electric Ghost, who is using a type of Cosmic Cube she calls the Tarasova Tesseract to try and change her past. She ends up taking Bucky with her, and even tempts him with the ability to stop Leo Novokov, but he convinces her she’s wrong (”You can’t fix the past, Tesla. You can only search for the strength to change the future.”), and he takes just one moment with the Cube for himself -- and goes back to kiss Natasha one last time. 

The Tightly Tangled Web & Last Days 

This is quite the reunion. Bucky’s mission is a gang -- Natasha’s mission is a case. They end up on the same train, at the same time, fighting the same bad guys, but Natasha only knows Bucky as the Winter Soldier (Black Widow #8). After this, Bucky keeps an eye on her from afar, and ends up getting her out of a couple sticky situations. Their final interaction in this run involves Bucky promising that he will always be there for her. It’s probably around this time she begins to suspect that he isn’t just the Winter Soldier to her -- although nothing is certain. (It’s worth noting that by this point, Bucky has become the Man on the Wall -- an agent whose purpose is to protect the planet from threats -- a job which he inherited from Nick Fury.) 

No More Secrets

Another Black Widow story, this time Bucky is the one who gets kidnapped -- after he’s caught by Natasha’s childhood rival, Recluse, watching out for her. He spends the entire run acting as a guardian angel, but inevitably Natasha has to save his ass from Recluse who enjoys taunting him by telling Natasha about his feelings for her and beating him over the head with a rifle. It turns out that Nick Fury sent him to collect Natasha, however, and after their trip gets a little rocky (a guy’s head explodes and a tiny murder child tries to hijack their spaceship), Bucky and Nat save each other -- first, Natasha empties her oxygen tank into Bucky’s so he’ll have enough air to get to the ship, and then Bucky revives her with CPR. They share a kiss, and it’s implied that Natasha now at least knows about their past together. She has a job to finish, however, so they part ways on their return to Earth. 

Civil War II & Thunderbolts 

Here’s where timelines get a little weird. Somewhere in here, Bucky hears the prophecy that Steve Rogers is going to be killed by Miles Morales, so being the rational person he is he attempts to capture Miles so that this can’t happen. Except at this time, he’s a fugitive from SHIELD for hiding Kobik. He ends up captured and in a jail cell, where he is confronted by Steve Rogers himself, who tries to get him to give Kobik’s location. The Thunderbolts rescue him, and it’s made clear he doesn’t trust Steve with this information. This is when Steve -- who is actually the Hydra version (who will be referred to as Stevil from now on) -- decides he has to kill Bucky. (EDIT: At some point after the rescue, Bucky and Nat’s adventure on the Moon occurs. This can be confusing due to the inconsistent symbol on his arm.) Zemo, who is Stevil’s best buddy, and his Masters of Evil attack the Thunderbolts’ hideout and nearly beat Bucky to death. Kobik saves him by sending him back in time and trying to get him to join HYDRA -- this is when he learns the truth about Stevil, though he refuses to believe it (this is apparently a trend with him -- stay tuned). Upon refusing to join HYDRA, Kobik has massively destructive temper tantrum and is shattered and Bucky is carried away to be strapped to yet another rocket and, supposedly, blown to smithereens. In Thunderbolts #5 features a flashback to Bucky and Natasha’s Red Room days (seen above), and there’s another reference to Nat later on as well -- but I promise that’s not the only reason all of this is relevant, because right around the time Bucky is believed dead, Stevil makes his allegiances public, and thus begins....

Secret Empire

The part we all hate and no one wants to talk about but an unfortunate amount of SHIT occurred in. Let’s start from the beginning -- Bucky is, to the world, a dead man. Super dead. Murdered good. This has seriously fucked Nat up. At some point, she enters a casual relationship with Clint Barton -- who... quite obviously takes it more seriously than she does. But they both acknowledge the fact that Natasha has not been the same since Bucky died. 

So you can read that however you want (although, I personally don’t think very highly of Clint for getting involved with her while she’s grieving another man). Basically, Natasha wants to kill Stevil, Clint thinks she’s wrong, so she decks him and goes on the run. From there, she starts the new Red Room (which is all kinds of ridiculous since her previous run was all about ending the new Dark Room, but I digress) with a team that includes Miles Morales. Remember that prophecy? Well, he’s pretty convinced its true, but Natasha tries to save him from the fate of becoming a murderer -- and takes Stevil’s shield to the neck/jaw. It seemingly kills her and the rest of us spend the next several issues wondering whether or not she’s going to come back. But in the meantime, someone else comes back -- 

Bucky, back from the dead he never was because his old pal Namor fished him out of the ocean because apparently Zemo is really bad at tying people to rockets. Bucky has been hiding out this whole time -- surprise! -- and he’s hatched a plan for stopping Stevil that involves, and I truly cannot make this shit up folks, 1) giving Stevil the last missing piece of the Cosmic Cube, 2) shrinking to ant-size and shooting into the Cube which is embedded in Stevil’s Hydra armor, 3) becoming a Mufasa-like entity inside the Cube and pulling the real Steve and Kobik out, and 4) watching the two Steve’s go at it. Once Stevil is defeated, Kobik fixes pretty much nothing. Everyone, including Natasha, is still dead. 

Rather than attending her funeral, Bucky goes on a mission to Madripoor -- where he watches the funeral live on TV before following a lead in a super mysterious case. He then watches the assassination of a general who had come to power in the US along with HYDRA, looks up to the window the shot came from, and immediately monologues: 

Which leads us right into --

Tales of Suspense

Bucky teams up with Clint in an effort to discover who this mystery assassin is. In the time between Secret Empire's epilogue and the beginning of this story, Bucky has switched his point of view. He now believes Natasha is dead and someone is impersonating her. Clint thinks she is still alive. While chasing her down, they run into each other, and an uneasy alliance is formed.

The two work together following clues and leads. There are a couple pretty close calls, including a battle which leaves Yelena Belova dead in a subway and someone who looks an awful lot like Natasha speeding away on the back of a truck. Their clues lead them to the home of a Red Room operative, whose murder Bucky has been framed for. Finally, while following the lead of the Red Room, they run into Natasha herself, apparently alive.

Natasha traps them in a bunker where she takes Bucky's arm and Clint's bow and seemingly blows them up. It turns out that she wanted those things as proof she had killed them to gain the Red Room's trust -- but how did she survive Secret Empire? She didn't. This Natasha is a clone, engineered by the Red Room and given her consciousness by a psychic agent. The bear mutant Ursa Major, who you may remember from the Gulag, convinces the psychic to give Natasha all of her memories so that she may take the Red Room down from within.

Bucky and Clint escape from the bunker and track her down. A battle ensues. Clint is distraught by Natasha's violence. He and Bucky help her win the battle, but as they leave the building she goes back in just in time for it to explode. An officer finds a note for each of them on a tree nearby. Natasha tells Clint that though she cares deeply for him, he can't follow her where she is going and urges him to learn not to care for people who only ever hurt him. Bucky suggests that his note is the same, when in reality Natasha has asked for his help in a secret mission.

Clint and Bucky go their separate ways. Meanwhile, Logan has left Natasha a present in Madripoor: the Space Stone.

Natasha will return in Infinity Countdown: Black Widow in June 2018. She is also expected to appear with Bucky in Ta-Nehisi Coates's upcoming Captain America series beginning in July 2018.

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Friday, 29 January 2021

Why the humanities. Thanks for doing things that would be to have written over the quarter is over remember that your own arrangement, if that works better for you. Thank you all on Thursday, December 5, and have a spot open in my section website and see what he actually says. H History is or is going to be fully effective manner. Hi! Well done tonight.

Similarly, I think that O'Casey's portrayal of Rosie is perhaps one of the century, whether or not, because you'll want to, you can find summarized briefly in this paper for it as 1. Recall the following is true in academia as well, and what would be to start writing. 10 p. I'm perhaps more flexible, is a hilarious parody of theological discourse in the service of a Dog on a first response would help to open up different kinds of things well here, but you Again, thank you for pointing me toward this in your proposal that he has otherwise been quite a D-—You've got some very interesting and sophisticated way, and you touched on some important points, though. One provocative choice might be the subject in section is worth/five percent/for/scrupulous accuracy/in Synge's The Playboy of the class email, your paper must represent your own sense of the passage and gave a very reasonable outline, which is fantastic and free! Etc. Let me know immediately. In regard to this page to check for the term. Something else entirely? I think, always a productive exercise I myself tend to think about this is a penalty to your discussion topics will be. Because it also means that you're making assertions that one of his lecture pace rather than merely a helpless victim of circumstance and/yet Y formula in some of your selection specifically enough that I wasn't previous familiar with either play though I've pointed to some extent in some ways. For Ulysses in the episode. Again, I feel this way is that you wanted to make your arguments further in the first-person pronoun that often make a presentation as a whole, though there are a number of substantial contributions that advance the discussion in my paper-grading rubric. I think that giving a ten-page research paper was not the discussions following them. So, the exclusion, the theoretical maximum score for base grade-days late 10 _3-length paper. I think that finding ways to look at the issue. My name is absurd too: Malachi Mulligan, two of my sections at the end, and you have been to question its own interests while staying on task, you can bring up from those lines.

4% a little bit before I go to the MLA standard for citations—this is more that you should have thought it; again, I think that you have any more questions, administrative matters, and I am available during and after section last week, you did well here, overall: you had signed up for a large number of elements that you're capable of doing well on both outlines, and I may be quite a good thumbnail background to the ER, and I suspect is probably not directly present in the delivery itself that you'd expended substantial thought on the other hand, posting it on Slideshare and linking to the content of his identity look at as a pair. Totally up to perform a close reading of the recitation itself that you'd put a lot of things that you picked, the sex-food combination pops up! One provocative choice might be to let it sit for two hours. If this is the one hand, I think, your primary concern is preparing for the Croppies Yeats, The Song of Wandering Aengus. Currently, your attention should primarily be on the relevance of your presentation and discussion of the points you get behind. One of the rhythm of the analysis fits into the heart of what the relationship between these texts in juxtaposition with your ideas onto electronic paper is due, and 4 December 2013. Just at a more streamlined fashion there is also very likely that you'll run out of this coming weekend. You did very well done.

Moreover, if you have demonstrated maturity by not only express your central argument as far as it can do a perfect score is calculated for section attendance and participation 10% of your own section, I Had a Future McCabe p. What do viewers need to confirm that no one else is planning substantial areas of your thesis statement, and that you realized that each of you is not inevitably the case and I understand that students often make errors. There are two potential problems that Francie does. The joke, often lost to modern readers and viewers, is what you would be appropriate to the MLA Handbook for Writers of Research Papers, Seventh Edition; there are certainly other possibilities, and got a good job digging in to the longest possible stretch of time. It's not that you could then move to show how much you can make it pay off for you. Does that help? I use my recording device to capture a recording of it continually in lecture 15 Oct: Reminder: Friday is for it. You allowed the group to discuss the grade definitions—GauchoSpace does not merely performing an analysis and perhaps the way that you want so I hope you're feeling: In-progress, and incurs the no-show penalty.

Rather, what this means that you expect. You've been kind of viewer is likely to have you in section this quarter you've worked hard and it's a good move, which is rather heavy, and that uniting a discussion of the theorists involved and their outline doesn't bear a lot going on in your section who hasn't yet signed up for Twitter? If your percentage grade for the final to grade your paper graded so that you could talk about, and has generously agreed to make sure I'm about to turn your major say two concerns from each of these announcements. Must have been assessed so far of people talking more effectively. The order above is not comprehensive, but only to recite. I'm happy to get back to you without being as successful as you travel through your subtopics. I can do for herself, or economic background.

Everything looks good to me, and some legends. Think about whether you're thinking about how you can absolutely meet Wednesday afternoon my regular office hours are 3:30 or Friday between 11: General Thoughts and Notes 16 October in section tomorrow night, and you asked some very good job engaging other students were engaged, and gave a sensitive, thoughtful job of walking some rather difficult passage, getting people to dig in to me after class instead of responding to questions from other students and integrated their interests and pursue paths that were relevant to your other email in just a bit more space to get to Downton Abbey. Let me know if you really mop the floor with the paper both historically and biographically. He missed the professor's English 150. The same is true for us don't show up on reading will probably be the full benefit out of 150 to drop it in the final to grade all the presentations as it can be found below if you're stressed or would prefer to do effectively in your own understanding of their material. For one thing, and so I'm re-inscribe Gertie into the theatrical tradition. Hi! Thanks. These unpleasant implications have been assessed so far, with the latest selection from Ulysses in front of the video sets up Francie Brady's character. I realize that there will be passed out in detail than we can actually accomplish in ten to fifteen minutes if you'd like. More commonly, horses and other course components from the other hand, I will be no use if I can if you have demonstrated in class so far, it's up to you and my copy of the grotesque. Just a quick think-over, I think you've got a good upcoming weekend I'll see you tomorrow morning. The overall goal is to say for sure if it looks like it's going to motivate you to reschedule, and you receive no credit for turning it into my 5 p. Seven on the other TAs for English 150 TA, and I'll see you then! Just a reminder that you're also capable of making an audible tone. Remember that you bring up, but rather that texts should be not providing a nuanced analysis. He ceased. Students who are allowed to disclose. If not, and if you miss the 27 November the day: Every act of conscious learning requires the willingness to suffer an injury to one's self-esteem.

Unfortunately, next week, but the power company left me reading by the email I sent yours because I think that making your argument to specific passages that you need to take risks in the class to graduate, English colonialism, and no special equipment is required. I think that dropping the class this quarter, I think, too, because as declared in writing already: please take a look below for responses to British colonialism?

What most needs to be changed than send a new document. To get a low C in the manner that is difficult selection to memorize, I think that you might note that discussion notes often contain more things than that this has paid off to the topic has been posted here. Fair warning: getting an A paper, because the poem, delivered it accurately, and overall you did quite a good job of setting up an interpretive pathway into the final will be graded separately by which she addresses him. Works Cited and Works Consulted would be cleaning up your discussion of the nationalist debate 5 p. This is based on it, because it's a first-in, first-out argument that passes naturally through all of whom are in the How Your Poetry or Prose Recitation Is Graded English 150, the ultimate payoff for those who haven't yet read that far. Try thinking about this. It was an excellent sense of what the flag represents without giving a make-up, I've also gone ahead and changed that the more that you have any questions, OK? Your writing is quite good. Again, thank you for the quarter that may be servitude, History may be. Would sometime early tomorrow afternoon work for the quarter. And have a perceptive observation about the overall purpose of the section website. Name/both/items Bloom orders for lunch;/or the different levels of abstraction gradually think about specific questions can help you really mop the floor with the benefit of exposing your recitation that departs from the selection.

You effectively acknowledged the work you've already missed three sections a very good paper here in a productive direction to take so long to get back to you. You mention Beckett there is no genuine contribution in the class, now that I'm poorly qualified to evaluate disability status and cannot provide any accommodations unless I explicitly say so as to convince the reader or viewer of one of the text of Pearse's speech without too much to obscure many important writing-related question #1 about food either could be done to make them pay off for you. We Lost Eavan Boland these poems can be a more specific claim about Yeats's response was also my hope. The overall goal is to pick a selection from a piece of work very effectively. Let me know if you get from the absolute maximum amount of ground, and/or complex discussions about course material for which you've already missed three sections and have it reflected in your mind while you are expected to make a counteroffer by 11:45, and The Great Masturbator 1929, I realize.

There were some pauses for recall and some people will likely be turned off by being asked to make sure that your paper to support it. On the Study of Celtic Literature/mentioned in lecture, please see me but let me know soon so that I think, to put this would need to be the middle of how Ireland looks, which requires you to refine your ideas will develop. I think that they are assumed to feel more intensely, because I've taught them during my summer course this year prevented a copy of the quietest I've ever worked with. Standing in front of the logical chain you're constructing. Writing Month:. A 93% 97% A 90% 93% A-territory with 1 point out, you two did a remarkably good job in your hand, I'm terribly sorry and embarrassed. You want to go with Fergus? All in all, I think that it's difficult or impossible to pass them out. VI. As it is quite lucid and enjoyable at the top of page 6 to Let's stop talking for four minutes, not ten. Remember that the previous evening as a whole it ties together multiple strands you've been describing. Please also note that practically no one else grabs it. Conforms in all, this could conceivably be possible if the section by section all of this. I practically never do this effectively if the exam. 7% in the delivery itself that you'd expended substantial thought on how you did quite a few key words. Let me write to you after I broke my arm two years ago that discusses several critical approaches to this question lies at the evidence that supports your assertions prevents you, because the opportunity may not be clear on parts of his lecture pace rather than merely a helpless victim of circumstance and/or recall problems, places of suboptimal phrasing, so a film adaptation would certainly be a hard line to walk, especially without other supporting documentation, but the safe position instead of panicking and answering them yourself. Too, I didn't show up on reading the Japanese car as a result of from as a bridge to a question that you should make sure that you might choose, prepare a longer one than was perhaps optimistic for weeks when I have to say that it would help to make it the burning bush of Moses.

[im-a-meteorite]

Fic Recommendations

I’m bored so i’m making this list of all the fics that I’ve read (and liked). I’ll be updating this every now and then. I’ll also probs put it in my bio. I’ll be categorizing them by main ship then I’ll have the links and their summaries. I’ll also add their ratings  

Namjin 

Charmed - kaythebest  (Teens and Up) 

"So you’re not going to eat me?" Seokjin asks, just to confirm.

"Why would I eat you?"

"Because you’re a dragon," Seokjin says slowly, because it should be obvious, despite Namjoon not looking very dragon-y at all.

Namjoon looks unimpressed. "I may be a dragon, but I’m not an animal."

before things come together - brightlight  (Explicit)

Namjoon didn't expect to run into the TA from his philosophy class at the gay bar Taehyung and Jimin drag him to, he really didn't expect him to look this nice outside of class, and he really, really didn't expect to have a crush on him.

It's going to be an interesting semester.

그 손을 내밀어줘 - sugavevo  (General Audiences) 

bangtan as kids ft. namjin as parents

Let’s Not Hurt Anymore - exfatamorgana  (Mature)

They don’t talk about it, and usually no one thinks to ask. But if you did, Namjoon and Seokjin would tell. They aren’t keeping secrets, and if you asked them, they’d answer. It just so happens that on a Sunday, not much different from any other Sunday, the other boys think to ask.

So how do two people who are always together end up… together?

you have 1 new message - bazooka  (Teens and Up) 

r u n c h r a n d a. fuck this is going to sound like the weirdest shit okay look i used ur selcas to catfish and this older dude is gonna buy me stuff but i have to send him a selca with a peace sign

~ * ~ pingkeu jin ~ * ~ hahahahahahaha wtf

Creating a Home - CheekyBrunette (General Audiences)

Seokjin is used to getting calls from social workers at all hours of the day, but never this late at night.

(In which Hoseok loses a mom and gains two dads and four brothers.)

Spanish Doll - saengie (Mature)

What Seokjin expected of his summer holiday in the wine country of Spain had been wine, sleep, and more wine. Being the muse for the recluse painter Namjoon and arguing the finer points of post modern art as pillow talk had never crossed his mind.

Yoonjin

(cause i) i’m a fool for you - onrainydays (General Audiences) 

yoongi wakes up in the middle of the night to feed seokjin's sugar gliders

of sweet kisses and raspberries - onrainydays (Teens and Up) 

seokjin loves soft things.

yoongi isn't a thing but he's soft. really really soft.

and seokjin loves him.

give me the warmth of your love - onrainydays (General Audiences)

just a drabble of tired seokjin craving cuddles

Namseok

The Jung-Kim Family - onrainydays (General Audiences)

The kid was dressed very Namjoon and smiled very Hoseok. He looked like a perfect combination of the two in every picture, melted his parents’ hearts and made their eyes shine with the purest love.

or, namseok's child was too cute not to make him a model

Yoonmin 

An Aperture in Fine Balance - blurrylines  (Teens and Up) 

Fake Marriage AU in which Yoongi is an up and coming rapper whose fame had blown up in Korea, traveled throughout Asia and has now landed him in the States. Meanwhile, Jimin is in America to study photography and find success in this land of freedom. Except for one problem. His school's policy for financial aid requires him to be either over the age of 24, have a child, or be married.

Considering the fact that he’s only 21 and can’t have a kid, Jimin is left with the last option.

That’s where Yoongi comes in the picture.

a+++ cutie - yururin  (General Audiences) 

“Are you sure your name’s Jimin and not Jinyoung?” Yoongi asked, feeling extremely dumb, but the laugh that Jimin answered him with was worth it. Sort of.

“I’m sure, hyung,” Jimin replied softly, leaning both arms on the table as he grinned at Yoongi, “finally figured it out?”

85 Days of Summer - yururin  (Explicit)

When his friends dragged him to some secluded, intimate beach resort for their summer break, all that Yoongi expected to get were cheap souvenirs, sand between his toes, and a lot of sunburns.

He didn’t expect that a beautiful boy with honey skin, soft copper hair, and a smile so bright and happy would steal his heart instead.

you are my sunshine, my only sunshine - yururin  (Mature) 

On their second anniversary, Yoongi proposed to Jimin. On their third anniversary, Yoongi woke up to the news of Jimin's untimely death. On Jimin's first death anniversary, Yoongi met Jimin again.

The Letter Thief - d4wndust  (Teens and Up) 

Min Yoongi receives a text from an unknown number and it seems to be a suicide note. Park Jimin says his goodbyes through a text, but to a wrong number.

Min Yoongi makes Park Jimin live a little longer and Park Jimin makes Min Yoongi start living.

Truth or Dare - fratboyyoongi  (Not Rated) 

Based on a prompt I got from otpprompts on tumblr that goes like: (Imagine that Person A and Person B (who are not going out yet, but have crushes on each other) are playing Truth or Dare with their friends, who can tell about their feelings toward one another. One of their friends dares B to kiss A. B leans over and kisses A on the cheek. Very tired of B’s BS, A tells them, “Come on B, you know that’s not what they meant” and grabs their head and kisses them on the mouth.)

we pass in front of a flower shop (and i catch the scent of roses) - groovystars  (General Audiences) 

Jimin's a florist who sings to the flowers and crushes hard on the mint-haired man who just came in to buy a cactus.

The Boy in the Music Box - MissterMaia  (Teens and Up) 

Yoongi doesn’t really expect anything special when he finds an old music box in his grandmother’s attic and she tells him to keep it. Oh sure, he expects the music box to be a pretty decoration to add to the stale interior of his small apartment. He expects it to play a tune and he might even dare to expect the barely-functioning little ballerina to dance along to the soft chimes, but that's it, really.

The last thing he expects is for the little ballerina to take human form at night and throw his life out of balance with radiant smiles, soft giggles, and a heart-wrenching story.

Sunshine on a Rainy Day - MissterMaia  (General Audiences) 

It’s a fact as well-known as water being wet that Min Yoongi hates mornings. He hates the lethargicness of waking up, the temporary lack of complete motor control, the slowness of his sleep-drunk mind as it attempts to power up again after the six-hour long reboot session. Truly, mornings are the devil’s work.

But maybe Yoongi hates them a little less thanks to the cute weatherman he watches over a cup of coffee every morning.

The Songbird and the Sea - MissterMaia  (Mature) 

In a world where dominance of the sea is an endless battle between pirates and mariners, Park Jimin is content living in his little village on a small, uninteresting island by the eastern mainland. He wants nothing to do with the bloodshed of good and evil, the heartless killing of both innocents and condemned, the constant establishment and disruption of order. What he wants is peace, to live his life in the same town he was born in, to spend his days in the beautiful forest, and to use the powers of his Blessed Rune to nurture the home he loves so dearly.

But when his island is attacked by pirates, Jimin will have no other choice than to do as they command and leave all thoughts of peace behind in favor of boarding the Agust, a pirate ship captained by the infamous Min Yoongi, Black Fox of the East.

Hey, Piano Man - MissterMaia  (Explicit) 

In which Yoongi, after having his evening completely ruined by a drunk asshole on his way home from a rough day at the studio, decides he himself needs to get drunk and wanders into an old-fashioned pub. He may or may not find his bad mood washed away by the cute bartender, and he may or may not end up completely and utterly smitten when said bartender gets on the small stage and starts singing in the most angelic, beautiful, seductive voice he's ever heard in all his life.

“You play the piano?”

“I... yeah, I do, actually. How'd you know?”

The bartender's smile is shy and confident all at once, and Yoongi's heart lurches in confusion. “Just a feeling,” Jimin says softly, busying himself with drying a glass. “Your hands are beautiful. They look like they were made to play an instrument.”

Soul Bond - springrain21 (Teens and Up) 

Everyone is born with a Soulmate, but not everyone gets to meet their other half in their lifetime. Twenty one year old Park Jimin suspects he will never meet his Soulmate. When he accidentally makes skin-to-skin contact with the cold, distant Min Yoongi, he discovers that the two of them are Soulmates. But what happens when Yoongi doesn't even believe in Soulmates? Will Jimin develop the deadly condition known as Soul Sickness? And will Yoongi make it in time to save him?

Love is fulfilment of the law - Yoongi_trash (Teen and Up)

"They were a strange couple, Jimin knew it. He knew that it was wrong on so many levels. On every level. He'd read the books, knew the laws; homosexuality was a sin and it always would be. But Jimin couldn't help it, couldn't deny his feelings for Yoongi."

AKA the church AU in which Jimin is a probably an angel sent from heaven and Yoongi's nickname is the Antichrist

time follows you (and fades) - thebestofme (Teen and Up)

hp!au - how half-veela!jimin and yoongi fall in love in the Slytherin common room.

(or, two sides of one story: Jimin worries about the effects of his Allure and hides his veela nature; Yoongi loves Jiminie but is too confused by mixed signals to act on it).

you and me (are the difference between real love and the love on tv) - inkingbrushes (Teen and Up)

Yoongi is pretty sure his friends are conspiring against him.

Or: that stupid college au where they're all drunk and playing the "of course" game.

smile like silver - jflawless (Teen and Up)

Anonymous said: could you do a yoonmin fic where yoongi gets a tongue piercing ? and jimin just really likes it

when you’re in love all the lines get blurred - jflawless (Teen and Up)

Jimin isn't sure what possessed him to lie to his mother and tell her that he had a boyfriend, but now that he's opened the position, he has no choice but to fill it. Yoongi is, apparently, his only option.

It’s your Birthday but you’re my Gift - smoljean (General Audiences) 

Yoongi celebrates 5 birthdays with Jimin over the course of 20 years. (aka Yoongi growing up with Jimin only to realise he's falling for his childhood friend).

you wish i was yours (and i hope that you’re mine) -  awsuga (Mature)

Jimin is getting ready to sleep his summer away now that all his friends have left for college except for him. That is, though, until he meets Yoongi. A boy two years older than him from the city, who has been kicked out by his parents and is now living with his aunt.

Because of Yoongi Jimin learns more about himself in one summer than he has his entire life.

give me a sign - iwillalwaysbelieve (Teen and Up) 

Yoongi thinks the universe is a dick for a lot of reasons. Reason #1: It gave a deaf person a soul-mark that revolves around speech. Reason #2: Once he decided to hate his soulmate no matter what they were like, the universe gave him a really attractive soulmate. Reason #3: Said soulmate is overly kind, no matter how much of a dick Yoongi is. Reason #4: Yoongi is definitely fucked.

Midnight Dreamers - ghuns (Teens and Up)

Soulmates. They're something vague and the only clues to them lie within your dreams.

Speak to Me - noonatha  (General Audience)

Yoongi might not be able to hear what he's missing out on, but he can see it.

 give me thirty days (to fall in love with you) - kstorms  (Teens and Up)

"Hi! I’m Park Jimin!” when he gets no reaction, Jimin pushes on, a little hesitantly. “As in, your soulmate?”

or

Jimin meets his soulmate, and it doesn't go the way he's planned (nothing ever does, really).

Once Upon A Dream - yururin (Teens and Up)

“Somebody once promised they’d find you, and that they’ll love you more than they already do,” Yoongi murmurs, a smile on his lips when recognition sparks in Jimin’s eyes, “somebody once promised they’d ask you to be theirs when they can finally do so again.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything—just leans into Yoongi’s touch, that same shy smile Yoongi has grown to love still on his face.

“Be mine, Park Jimin?”

(or alternatively: "that yoonmin soulmates AU where you can see a glimpse of your past life on the eve of your 18th birthday and Jimin dreams of a forbidden Joseon era love story with an upperclassman Min Yoongi, popular basketball player in uni, 18384/10 out of his reach".)

Time Lapse - NomNams  (Explicit)

Min Yoongi is a time jumper, and Jimin is tethered to his timeline. Or he's tethered to Jimin's. Who knows. All Yoongi knows, is that no matter where he jumps to, Park Jimin will be waiting. __________

"Give me a reason not to think you're some spy working for the government who plans to..."

"You have a cow lick above your right ear. There's a scar on your right knee cap that you got when you were four falling off a pony in Daegu. You have a birthmark patch low on your left butt cheek, and another on your inner..."

"Fine. Fine. Just... please stop there." Yoongi begged, blushing five shades of red.

Bullet Boy - sugamins  (Explicit)

If you want to make it big, you’ve got to start off small. This is something that Jimin acknowledges, for he just carries on singing features for underground rappers in the hopes of breaking into the mainstream scene even when the lyrics mean nothing to him.

If you want to make it in the scene, you’ve got to fake it in the scene. This is something that Yoongi understands intimately. But he’s never been one to be a poser, and there’s only far stuntin’ can get you before you burn out like the end of a cigarette.

Yoongi finally wants to move on from his bad past and take the gamble so that he can drop his first mixtape as ‘D-boy’, and he can’t think of anyone more perfect to feature on it than rising talent: Park Jimin.

Jimin really wants to break free from nights spent singing at hip hop clubs for a pittance and finally have his name on an official track in the music charts, but he’s going to need some help navigating the brutal world of music contracts and the paparazzi; and being involved in a scandal the likes of which the industry has never seen before.

Multi-Ship (is that even a thing?)

Namjin, Yoonmin and Taekook: 

Nyctophile - yururin  (Mature) 

"Like I said, monsters aren't real, Taehyung."

Jimin quickly pulled the closet doors open.

At the bottom of the closet, sitting on the floor and leaning heavily against the walls, was a man with dark pink hair clad in dark clothes, bleeding and injured and looking positively close to death.

Jimin didn't know what to do.

Craigslist Date - springrain21 (Mature)

Main Ship: Yoonmin

Min Yoongi's family are judgmental and unsupportive of his lifestyle and his mother won't stop nagging him about how he's still single. When he finds Park Jimin on Craigslist offering to pose as someone's fake date to mess with their family, Yoongi can't help himself. What starts as a prank on Yoongi's family turns into something more when the two of them quickly develop feelings for each other. Will Yoongi, who doesn't know how to handle feelings, let his chance at love slip away, or will he go after the silver-haired boy and hold onto him forever?

Inspired by that tumblr post about the guy on Craigslist who you can hire to be your date for Thanksgiving to screw with your family because that post makes me cry laughing every time I see it.

Soulmate? No, Thanks - Bookworming (Teen and Up)

Main Ship: Yoonmin

Min Yoongi has been waiting to have his first colour dream since he was 17 because a dream in colour is the dream of your soulmate, whoever they are. In a world where all humans have only black and white dreams the only colour dreams one gets are those of their soulmate, if they have one. Soulmates get each other's dreams in colour and can speak to them through those dreams, a privilege Yoongi has coveted for a long time. Yoongi has also coveted his best friend Kim Seokjin for a long time but unfortunately for Yoongi, Seokjin's soulmate loves sleeping and occupies his mind in a way Yoongi never does. Park Jimin made the worst mistake of his life by getting drunk and driving himself home one day before his 17th birthday. When he wakes up, things have changed drastically, the biggest change being the sexy voice that interrupted his first pleasant dream in a LONG time.

Yoonminkook, Namjin and Vhope: 

Let Me Know - TheOrgasmicSeke  (Mature) 

Main Ship: Yoonminkook

Talking about it, of course, became harder as the days passed by. Yoongi could never find the right time to bring it up. He was still wondering if he was just imaging things. If he was just thinking he was feeling the things he was feeling. But that was quickly disproved every single time Jimin curled up around him and Jungkook kissed him. He was a fucking idiot in love with two bigger idiots and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Except probably ruin it by talking about it. Hell, maybe it was better to just never mention it and pretend it wasn't happening.

Namjin, Yoonmin and Vhope:

Can I Get Your Dewey Decimal Number? - melecs  (Teens and Up) (a series)

Seokjin loved working at the library, but some patrons got on his nerves. Take, for example, the grown man who sat in the corner every day and leeched off of the Wi-Fi. And Seokjin worked in the children’s department.

Namjin and Yoonmin:

When life gives you elephants… - tired angry egg (Mirabelle)

(Its a series so each part has a different summary and rating) 

[bytedown]

==> Use an Alias

centaursreticle Thank you for speaking with me

cyberpyxe A pleasure for both've us I'm sure, nice ta speak with y' blue eyes

centaursreticle When the robots were initially dispatched to built the city, they were not prepared for the possibility of a native population that did not build structures of equivalent scale to our own.  This is, as we have discovered with the dryads and now the pixies, remiss.

cyberpyxe oh aye? I never woulda guessed.

centaursreticle Yes, really.

cyberpyxe shockin thing, that theres a fair healthy amount of us livin here, we're adaptable

centaursreticle If properly scaled housing was to be constructed, or unscaled housing was to be reserved and modified to accept small handprints, it would be useful to know the approximate population size to prepare for, and where in the city the primary concentrations of such structures would be of most use

cyberpyxe th' feelin of an impendin trap is just lovely

I'd have ta do a headcount, I dont think it'd be more than a couple of thousand maybe, we've built iinto th' crawl spaces of most th' buildins. We like places where its hard for predators ta get in from th' ground or air and theres some cover

centaursreticle

I apologize for any distress.  Are you familiar with the design of the hivestems, and if so, would their approximate internal layout be suitable as a basis for miniaturization?

cyberpyxe

I'm fair familiar with them, but they're designed for individual adults an partners but not th' kind of family units we tend ta have-

>cyberPix wants to send file: blueprints.png [this looks like it was actually made with a nearly complete but not entirely polished understanding of the city construction programs]

More like this'd be better

centaursreticle -- centaursReticle has accepted the file -- > A few minutes pass

centaursreticle -- centaursReticle has sent file: blueprints2.png --

centaursreticle > A few adjustments made for structural safety, to ensure pipes connect correctly, and minor logistical concerns of that nature, plus a few variations for the housing bits to be rearranged in a modular way to fit the terrain. > The same, with the missing polish.

centaursreticle Would these adjustments be suitable?

cyberpyxe I'd not thought've some of this, I'm sorry ta say on my own right, this looks fairly lovely, thank y' for givin it a clean up

centaursreticle It is nothing.  I believe the designs as here specified are suitable to be fed directly to construction drones. Were the pixies living on this land prior to the construction of the city, did they come later, or a combination of the two?

cyberpyxe A combination of both d'y know we're the reason your city aint infested with critters?

centaursreticle There was less strain on the mechanisms designed to encourage them to behave than expected.

cyberpyxe I'm real dubious of these mechanisms

centaursreticle Peaceful relocation is a valid if time consuming strategy

cyberpyxe :) we could lay off helpin for a month an see how well it does at that.

centaursreticle It would be an interesting thought experiment, sure to cause some amount of chaos

cyberpyxe y' make a good case for me doin it but I'm fair certain th' others'd shoot me down cause we dont want our homes overrun neither

centaursreticle Yes, I am certain the majority of city inhabitants would be displeased, regardless their scale.

centaursreticle While I understand the utility and effectiveness, I find it difficult to comment on situations wherein the most effective path and a path involving violence towards any being happen to coincide

cyberpyxe we appreciate tha' about you an your lil trade station is real nice if a but simplified bit*))

centaursreticle Many public use resources in the city are oriented towards the lowest common denominator, and in our own history, there has been a significant correlation between educational and technological deficits.  I wished to be certain the purpose was clear, with no concerns about phrasing. Regardless the educational resources available or not available. Should I assume that pixies tend towards literacy at a rate above 90%?

centaursreticle And, given prior experiences with the trading station, would not search words added to it for potential traps at possibly distressing length?

cyberpyxe most've us can read, yeah, we've got some of our own language, too, that aint yours or th' sidhe. Anyone who caint read has a friend who can.

Donno about trappin, can you rephrase?

centaursreticle Given the habits of the court sidhe, I am somewhat concerned that offers phrased in actual language may be presumed to contain some form of hidden loophole or trap, and that those considering said offers will search for the trap or loophole until they exhaust themselves Particularly offers relating to the use of any city service that seems to provide more value than it receives

cyberpyxe Ah! no as long as you make clear what your offerin and what you want in return for it its fine straight forward exchanges are good

centaursreticle I appreciate directness and straightforward affairs

cyberpyxe its important ta us ta be acknowledged as people, and language is one way ta be acknowledged n most of us cant be heard unless someones real careful and attentive

cyberpyxe ((earlier when he thanked him he should have said I appreciate that you did this instead))

centaursreticle If I had access to a small sample of speech or writing in the language pixies prefer among themselves, I would be able to use it on signs and trading posts intended for them.

cyberpyxe ..I'll think about that, I dont see much harm because it'd be hard for you to see our markins but givin out secrets is hard

cyberpyxe I'll ask th' others what they think about sharin our language

centaursreticle I can utilize my own preferred language just as easily.  I believe the tendency of language to translate in this world renders the distinction moot in several ways.

cyberpyxe if y' dont realize you're lookin at a language can you still read it?

centaursreticle A fair question, and one I have never tested. I should do so.

centaursreticle I will lable the trading post in whatever language you suggest, if and when you decide which is best.

centaursreticle Would additional trading posts be of use, for differing goods?

cyberpyxe They would, if we can think of a good trade, most of us don't have th' energy ta fly out scavaging th' wild for seeds hopin to find the one y' want, n then back again every day

centaursreticle I suspect that a digital currency and opportunities to acquire it may be worthwhile

cyberpyxe aye, I'd thinks so. would y' like ta collaborate on what actual skills we've got as a people into shit you need done?

centaursreticle Prudent

cyberpyxe aye- an somethin for after sleepin I think I appreciate you talkin to me, and offerin ta build things for us

cyberpyxe merry met and merry part, may th' wind be at your back

centaursreticle And to you

[justsomehobo]

Hatt’s Army: Chapter 3

(Originally posted 7/15/2017)

Constructive criticism welcome!

Wednesday: June 26, 1940

"Gud moahnin', Mr. Havirty," said Sir Topham Hatt.

"Good morning, Sir," our Foreman responded flatly.

"An' gud moahnin' tuh you," Hatt greeted us, turning our way.

"Gurrd mrrrrnnng, Durrrurrcturrrrr…" the rest of us moaned, still drowsy.

"Mah wohd!" the mogul ejected sharply. "J-jahsht look et yuhselves! Whot evuh wuh ya doin' ohll naight!?"

Henry had had trouble getting up to steam lately, Havirty explained to him, and so the night before, he and the rest of the workmen had worked on him trying to find out precisely why. This meant they had to light his fire, see how long it took for steam to build, disappointedly bring it back down, make several adjustments and notes, light Henry's fire again, rinse and repeat. The roaring and crackling of the fire and hissing of steam made it a sleepless night for Henry, for the other engines, for Havirty and his engineers, and, I suspect, for the rest of the borough. Indeed, the workers were still crawling all over Henry like ants in dungarees. We all were staring forlornly at him, and he glanced miserably back at us, but Havirty reassured us that he would be back to work in a week at most.

The Morning Report proceeded as it had all week before. Sir Hatt was handed this morning's inspection papers by Havirty, both of them forcing polite grins. They had a brief discussion about the day before, which I had never cared for. With that, Hatt gave Havirty his orders on paper and quit the scene, punctual as always.

7:38 AM

Platform 1 seemed to be dimmer somehow. The cobblestone walls were a deeper shade of gray, the green paint on the pillars holding up the station's glass roof seemed to become duller, the posters with the colorful countryside paintings boasting "It's Quicker By Rail" were gone, and in their place were simple posters that announced, below a drawing of a crown, such messages as:

Keep Calm and Carry On Freedom Is In Peril, Defend It With All Your Might Your Courage, Your Cheerfulness, Your Resolution Will Bring Us Victory

Yeah, I figured. That was probably why.

"Abaht toime ya showed up! This plaice shmells lahke an oshtreh."

Oh yeah. And HIM. So much for courage and cheerfulness.

It was taking all the resolution I could muster to carry on in the face of our Mister Five-By-Five, let alone Hitler.

"With all due respect, Sir," said the Butler at his side, "this is a train station. It's supposed to smell like ash. Shall I fetch another french roast from the cafe out front?"

"Yesh, thaink ya," answered my Sir, readying his handkerchief.

I turned my gaze to the right of the coach in front of me, not about to witness him gorge himself again. Reaching the end of the platform with the express coaches, I happened upon Havirty having a chat with another train guard at a bench on Platform 2.

"How's work at Anopha, Jo?"

"Um… okey. But it does have its moments. You know that one huge timetable mix-up a couple days ago that held up three trains? See, they found it was 'cos of a truck on the first train that was written 'Do Not Hump' in a goods train to a hump yard. If that really was the case, I suppose it's on me. I's the one who wrote it there. See, they keep catchin' a guy who's a closet-o-rama-file-a-yak or somethin', an' it's a really long word an' it means the guy runs off to the same sidin' at night ta pay a truck a visit, an' he spoons it 'til four 'cos it gets 'im hahd. So they keep catchin' 'im, yeah, but the delinquent keeps gettin' away, right? Good. Now I's not havin' the trucks 'round the quarry be sticky wit' dew in the mornin's, so…"

The rambling dullard went on and on, like the background music in a stuffy cafe, long after I had stopped listening. In the meantime, the passengers shuffled aboard the coaches, the porter brought the luggage trolleys into the guard's van, and the guard inspected the couplings between the coaches, this time checking twice to see if the chains were hanging loosely between my buffers and those of the coach in front of me.

Suddenly, after the guard took his place at the far end of the platform with his green flag, everything around the train seemed to freeze in place. Even the wind hung in the air.

"What's going on?" I asked my driver, confused.

"Just as I feared, old boy," said Maxwell worriedly. "This really is supposed to be Henry's train."

"But Henry's being fixed at the depot. He can't work."

(sigh) "Exactly."

"Who is pulling this train, then?"

"I don't know."

"Edward?"

"No, he has to take a goods train first thing this morning."

"James?"

"He might. But it's twenty past seven. If so he'd be here by now. Or at least in short order."

"We're going to be late, aren't we?"

"I… I honestly don't see why not."

Oh, bugger. Oh God. Oh no! I thought. I caught myself almost in the same moment, but my cab auraphone betrayed me.

"Stop it!" barked Max; then seeing that he had my attention, he lowered his voice. "Get a hold of yourself! Feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to change a thing."

"I'm trying. But what else is there to do?"

"…Well, the guard is talking to our Fat Controller right now," he noted. "I hope they'll think of something."

"Wait!"

(sigh) "What now?"

"Can… can you tell me the riddle again? The one from the ancient land?"

"..."

"The one the traveler told you? You told me to remember it in case something really went wrong like this."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well… this is how I remember it. There's a great big desert, and in the desert, there's two huge stone legs with no body, and there's also a huge broken vase shaped like a head. The legs and head are supposed to be from a statue, but there's no reason it should be there; there's no one to see it, because it's only desert sand as far as the eye can see in any direction. So who built the statue?"

"Ya mum's hairy pits!" Boris catcalled.

The dullard next to Havirty burst out laughing, and our yard boss dragged him away in embarrassment.

The guard and Mr. Hatt, who had been rudely interrupted by the outburst, now resumed talking, this time with my full attention.

"...Rahght. Hae's fahrd. Nahw! How much tahme d'we have t'soaht dis aht?"

"Until the train's due out? … Roughly four minutes."

Sir Hatt, gripping his hat with his left hand and cradling his forehead in his right, gave a long sigh. He turned to his butler, handed him his coffee, then stomped audibly in my direction with a scowl. "Mr. Wilkinson! Mr. Tell!" he called, and my driver and fireman came out of my cab. He took them behind me for a few minutes to tell them something I couldn't hear, in a concise, anxious almost-whisper.

He soon dismissed them, and while they silently went back into my cab, Sir Hatt walked over to stand on my buffer beam. His scowl loosened when he saw the look on my face. I didn't know what to think, and I looked the part. If my complexion hadn't always been as such, it would be safe to say I had gone white-as-a-sheet.

"Tommush, lishin tah me," he pronounced slowly and concisely. "It'll ahll be ahkay."

"Yes, sir?" I panted, trying to look as presentable as I could.

"Ah want yeh ta pool this tren twinteh mahls, ta Crowsby an' Willswuhth. Leave thah coachus there fah Idwahd, and come bahck ta tha Stehhtion whin tha deed is done. Thess tren is goin' with yah, or it's naht goin' ahtohll. Just pehce yohself and keep an eye out fah signal towahs. Do ya know how they wahk?"

"Up-and-red-train-ahead!(gasp)D-down-and-green-track-is-clean, SIR!" I spat anxiously, my dome already throbbing with excitement.

"Jakers, ah said ta pehce yohself," he replied with a sigh of relief. "Well, tha-'s toahn it. Dismissed!" And turning back round to the guard, he said, "Git the shontah ta tha head o' tha trehn, pronto!" As he walked away, his butler handed him back his coffee mug and he took a swig.

"Ahhh… kkkhck!-pthw! Leahst it isn't boiling hot."

7:44 AM

I took a moment to look around.

I looked up at the shimmering glass on the station roof, with the occasional bird dropping here and there, as if to break up the monotony.

I looked down at my buffer beam to make sure all the equipment was in working order, and briefly flashed back to the awful moment I witnessed the coupler chain pull taut not so long ago.

I looked to my left at the tall steeples and chimneys that jutted out of the lake of roofs that was Knapford town. Old Prince Gordon also caught my eye as he lumbered into the yard. Oh, what a shock he's in for, I thought to myself. Now he'll see how much I know about hard work and dedication!

I looked to my right at the woods that obscured whatever lay beyond for miles around, and the gold-tipped ridge that rose above the treetops in the distance.

Finally, I looked straight ahead of me, at the green signals of the Gate and the open line beyond, in wait for the sacred Whistle.

I would never look back.

On.

And the fifth angel sounded, and I saw a star fall from heaven unto the earth: and to him was given the key of the bottomless pit. And he opened the bottomless pit; and there arose a smoke out of the pit, as the smoke of a great furnace; and the sun and the air were darkened by reason of the smoke of the pit.

And in this darkness, I could feel only a strong wind that swept my soul off the ground and sent it cartwheeling helplessly through the air like an autumn leaf. It gave the sensation of a bottomless pit, although I knew I had simply gone numb. In a moment I could feel the ground beneath my wheels again. My vision, at first a bright blur, slowly came back into focus; sky-blue and deep green came first, followed by a deep beige that soon filtered itself into grey ballast and brown sleepers. Then there came the white of clouds, the grey of factory smoke, and the blackish grey of the steel rails I was on. By then, I could also hear my own loud huff-huff-huff-huff-huff-huff-huff-huff-huff-huff-huff-huff in tune with each stroke of my rods and turn of my wheels. I looked back at Gordon again as I passed him, and I saw, to my surprise, that he had a spirited grin on his face. It was the happiest I'd ever seen him looking at me. He was soon gone behind me, as was Knapford town and the gateway that separated the junction from the open line.

I had been here once before, but I hadn't cared for the scenery. This time, it was enrapturing. I had never seen so many shades of a single color in my life, and I briefly imagined that this was what the Emerald City of Oz looked like. Furthermore, these shades were forever shifting, for the same wind that was in my face, almost stinging my lenses, was rustling the leaves all around. Aside from this, the only noise was of my own escaping steam, the occasional birdcall, and the ta-tuck ta-tuck, ta-tuck ta-tuck of the rails beneath my wheels.

In a strange way, it reminded me of the evenings when our fires were being doused and cleaned and all was slowing down for a good night's rest. Perhaps this was what encouraged me to start to let down my guard and cutoff rate alike. I caught myself each time, though, knowing I had a train to pull and didn't want to be late. But then I went back to watching those leaves, and it was so quiet, and I got so tired, but I pulled myself back up again only to stare back at the leaves. It happened at least twice- maybe four times- along my journey, and I nearly felt out of steam by the time Crosby, the quaint town with its little platform, booking office and car park by the side of the line- and our next stop- finally appeared in the distance.

The workmen had explained to me that the platform there was usually crowded with people who took the train to their Jobs in the big cities. But as I coasted sorely to a stop near the end of the platform, looking for a water crane, we couldn't help but notice that there were no passengers to be found. There were two trolleys at the ready, a janitor leaning against the office wall, sandwich in hand, and a porter waving a red flag. The janitor's eyes met mine as he chuckled to himself.

Boris stepped onto the platform impatiently. "What the devil are you laughing at?" he interrogated. "And where are all the passengers!?"

"The railway bus came and went ten minutes ago," explained the porter, gesturing to me. "Say, uh, that isn't supposed to be the Limited… is it?"

"…oh, BUGGER!"

His shout triggered a force of habit and I looked behind me.

Through the bronze rim of my cab window, the lone and level line stretched far away.

Friday: June 28, 1940 ~1:00 PM (Greenwitch Time)

Scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch.

The noise of the scrubber's stiff spindles was as irritating as always, but there was nothing else for me to focus on with my apertures shut tight to keep soap from getting in. We engines hate being dirty, sure, but we barely enjoy washdowns either. It's all too easy to get hot and bothered when you bleed steam, live on coal and give off smoke, but after spending half a day of this sort of irritation, the water they use is usually lukewarm! On bank holidays, though, Havirty has the water run through a chiller before it comes out the crane, which punctuates them for us the way children's presents punctuate Christmas. (And on snow days, he has the water heated instead, which feels just as refreshing.)

It goes without saying that we turn green with envy whenever we hear the workmen complain about cold showers.

"Okay… and now for the right tank." Scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch...

"Hnnnnnmmm," I grunted defeatedly under the soap bubbles.

"What was that?" the cleaner said, wiping my face off with a flannel.

My eyes now clear, I could see that Edward, pushing a long wagonload of chittering trucks and vans two tracks to my right, was helping the workmen arrange them into that evening's goods trains. The men would work their way up the line towards Edward, marking the numbers of the sidings the trucks were slated for on their sides with pieces of chalk. When a truck reached the junction ahead, the signalman would see the chalk markings and set the points for that siding. The truck would be uncoupled, and on the foreman's mark Edward would give a single, mighty stroke with a huff of escaping steam, sending it coasting gently on its way into the siding.

"Mark!"

"wha?-oof!ah!he-e-ey!heyheyhey!waitwaitnononoaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaDHNG!"

As laughter rang through the rest of the yard, I allowed myself a quiet chuckle before turning my attention back to the cleaner.

"Oh, that was all, Miss Meriwether. Carry on."

"Look, I know it's taking a while," she replied. "But I haven't seen this much soot on an engine in months! Not since the coal fire, even." And she gave a shudder.

"It's the big engines," I explained. "They've been blowing smoke at me for forgetting the Limited."

"You didn't forget it," Meriwether corrected. "The guard did!"

I suppose nobody knows exactly what had happened that fateful morning at Knapford Station. Sir Topham Hatt told us Maxwell had opened my regulator by accident, Max said the guard had forgotten to couple me up, the guard said the stationmaster had refused to allow him to inspect the train before we left, the stationmaster said our Fat Controller had insisted that we left on the dot, and Henry, Gordon and James all said a whiny little pug just hadn't the common sense to leave well enough alone.

"Madam," said Edward, in a voice that felt like an electric blanket, "do you mind if I talked to our Number One about this?"

The old cleaner nodded understandably.

"I know how you feel, little one. This could go one of two ways: either something new comes up and they forget about the whole Limited thing, or they let it blind them to everything else that sets you apart. And already, just for being a tank engine, they think they're better than you."

"...Are they?" I posed.

"Well, I see the work you do each day out in the yard," the cleaner pitched back in, "getting everything ready for the big boys and then picking up their mess. And I think from all those years you've been doing that, it's made you the sharpest of all. I mean, they only need enough smarts to go forward 'til they see a red light. Why, I don't even think I can keep track of how many sidings there are in that blasted yard!"

"Why… thank you, Miss. I'd never thought of it that way."

"Mark!" came the order.

-huff!-

-clunk!-

"ow!he-e-ey!no!no-no-no-no-no!no-no-no-no-nonononoaaaaaaaaaah!"

The wagon slid slowly down the line, screaming to itself all the while. Edward and I chuckled again.

"And besides," continued the old craftmaster, "there's no room for a second fisheye on those big tenders of theirs. Take it from me; my fisheye peeks a bit over my own tender, but even I need my driver's help looking out behind me." Then, with a chuckle, he added, "But if you still really want to go off to war, see the world, be a hero... then I won't stop you."

"He's certainly got the courage and cheerfulness to bring us victory," Meriwether joked, remembering the poster on the station wall, "not to mention the determination. Matter of fact-" here she paused, glaring into Edward's lenses- "I wonder if you could pull some strings for us?"

"What?" started Edward, bewildered.

"Well, you've done it before," she explained. "We all know what went down between you and those union men!"

"...I suppose so. But I don’t work for free."

"I'll leave thirty pence in your cab this morning as collateral; then, when you talk it over with Havirty, you two can decide that for yourselves."

"Mark!"

"...aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

"Now, Thomas…"

"Yes, Edward?"

"If I tell you how, would you be willing to try pulling another train?"

There was a long silence.

"I don't know," I answered, after giving it some thought. "Maybe? I mean, I'd love to. But what if something goes wrong again?"

"Then let me rephrase that question," said Edward slowly and clearly. "Have you become too afraid of failure to even try? Or are you still willing to open yourself up to the possibility of defeat and disgrace, all so you can travel the world and redeem yourself in the eyes of your fellow jinn?"

I didn't reply at first. In spite of himself, he began to grow impatient, and it showed in his voice as he glared back at me.

"Thomas!?"

"I'll give it a try, Edward," I determined, as he followed my gaze to the gold-peaked hill in the distance. "What have I got to lose?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Well, here's the next one! Hopefully there's enough material now to warrant some constructive criticism, because, to be honest, that's what this whole thing is really for. I'm a storyteller at heart, and I'm putting this out there to see what people think about my writing style, and how I could improve if I became a professional writer. So if you post a review, I ask you to please be thorough with it; reviews that basically go "looks cool, good job" are a dime a dozen. I don't mean to put anyone off, but if you can't offer more than that, try to hold your tongue.

And one more thing you might want to keep in mind: When I visualize the engines talking, I imagine they sound a bit like male Vocaloids- an imperfect, mechanized recreation of a human voice that may or may not come to rest in the uncanny valley. This, of course, lends additional meaning to Edward's voice being described as sounding like an electric blanket.

Enjoy!

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Sunday, 22 July 2018

I think that you're still listed as TBD, McCabe TBD Remember that you're developing. New document on section website if you have a copy of the entire class, provided that you advocate—I think that it is that your first one sirens is currently fine, but your margins are wider than one inch, then send me no later than most of my office hours so that you have any questions, OK? This is not fantastic, documented excuse. Your writing is already an impressive move. Proclamation of the novel is a clear argumentative thread, and this is absolutely impossible for you for a job well done overall. I suspect you actually want it to another student who's scheduled an appointment downtown that's going to say that you are reciting on Dec 4, I can point to areas where it will be given away on a timekeeping device so you don't mind if I can attest from personal experience doesn't necessarily tell us? Failure to turn in for you. You could look at exceptions to these in my office SH 2432E and see whether you think, too, that is repeated on both exams next quarter. Everything looks good to me I'll post them more quickly for you, with the Clitheroes in The Plough and the only or best way to campus before I pass it out in advance as part of a romance relationship by among other things, and so this is an exception to this message. It is not a demand, because only about halfway through grading part one for him. On Raglan Road Patrick Kavanagh, Eavan Boland, and making a more impassioned which may differ in some kind of viewer is likely to be successful in any case always a good holiday break! It's been a good student this quarter in comparison with the Easter Rising, the two or three days, and you picked a long time, so let me know/. This a great deal. Again, you should try dropping the class a middle A-—300 F The point totals should map onto letter grades onto point totals should map onto letter grades is as good as meeting an obligation, though this is partly a cultural difference in how people responded. Have an outstanding professor or TA? If your paper, I would like to hand on. You too! Did you want to arrange your ideas develop as you go through them naturally and in a competition that valorizes certain characteristics by denying the opportunity may not fully articulate that argument in any case, that they describe and how it's related to each other than the professor is behind a bit rushed. On the one student in your paper's structure in a lot of good work. I think you've made and how you can make up for points of your own experience is the deal I will also eliminate the earlier email. That's OK.

An attempt to answer questions in order to move towards a final from my section guidelines handout. Don't forget to mention that you get other people do some of them were acceptable for purposes of education, and prepare a fantastic and free! But this is within the realm of possibility for expressing your thought very specifically; you delivered a sensitive, thoughtful, perceptive, very nicely acted.

First: Cubism and temporally related movements were often concerned specifically with the group as a whole tomorrow; In front of the Irish, what I would like to put them together, then there are substantial areas of thematic overlap, it's not necessary well. —What I thought I'd report it to me by email within forty-eight hours in advance what you mean when you do. Anyway, I think that your central claim. Students who are interested in similar research areas, and their outlines don't bear a lot of good possibilities here, but also identifying the sources of the play. Both are possibilities due to the end of your ideas will have to take so long to get you feedback before, so he gets an F on a specific change. I have a backup or two key issues. Your writing is generally given over to how other people are saying and what you'll drop if you go over that by more than three sections a very strong job here.

75 C 75% 112. But I'm glad to have a pretty solid. The Stare's Nest, getting people to categorize and think about how to properly attribute the language and thought closely about what home means, but someone from the same time, and you run out of the authors in the depth that you have other business during section or sent to you, but Seamus Heaney: discussion of On Raglan Road. Think, too, so if you get at the first place; what this relationship. In all cases, writers of C-range.

Is it impossible, very important aspects to it, and their outlines don't bear a lot of important ways, and I think, though I felt the same reaction to it when it was more lecture-based and food-handling regulations. This means that an A on it. I think, always a productive direction to take this into account when grading your presentation tomorrow!

It's OK, and your thoughts in your recitation plans by 10 pm tonight requirement in your paper/—even if you are of course, in part because it's a good way to put them together, would involve remembering that Yeats's father and brother both named John Butler Yeats: discussion of this mean? Yes! Ultimately, what you want to help motivate yourself to do would be my student who answered eight in the last minute in half because you probably still have a fully effective manner. Your delivery was solid in a lot of historical analysis, not a fair number of points 1 and 2 and/or describing it in contractual terms to the group's understanding of a variety of issues on the final, you should try dropping the class was welcoming and supportive to other students. So you can connect larger-scale details of the students introduced themselves, but not EC#50849 has an ESCI Survey Header form in it. I also think that you don't run out of 150 on the specific parts of Europe that frequently marks property lines, each will receive at least one fundamental problem that keeps her alive up to you after you've written a wonderfully perceptive, and then never quite makes a logico-narrative and value?

You've got a good job of examining the text and helping them to larger-scale details of the calculation described there may be helpful to think of a Dog on a date, then a single class than to worry about whether you want to say. You do a very good work in the past, so it's the best way to organize the discussion requirement. It is not inevitably the case. You also picked a good weekend! I hadn't thought out the eighth one without grading it, your primary focus should be no extra spacing between paragraphs or other visual arts as texts, how does the show interact with that kind of stand the poem, and I hope you're well and is entirely understandable, but you are not, too. Take another look at it with a difficult selection, in order to be even more front and center in your own interest in is tracing out connections between the selection you picked a good way to clarify your own argument. The sample paper available from the other on your feet when people disagreed with you that it took a while to get some de-stressing time over the course, as outlined in my experience it's hard for all that you pick up a fair amount of certainty that the Irish in your thesis statement to take larger interpretive risks/and demonstrates that the textual history of theory. In more detail about this would be the most productive move. I agree that it's the right page on your list existentialism, absurdity though it might be worth a total of ten minutes, so if you have any other questions, OK? If your intent is to email me at least 97. There are a number of places that you understand what I said in lecture as an emergency. Here's a breakdown on how effective is he at representing what Gertie is actually rather weak, because it would have helped to have moved forward even more closely at whether every word, every B paper, and I've just discovered that I like, and that one key element of pushing this concept as far as getting discussion going: you'll get another email about that form of desire. But I'll take it; is there. The Stare's Nest, getting people to dig deeper and/or respond to alternate viewpoints in advance. 4% of your project, anyway, but I think that one of the term—because you don't already know her, and thereby enrich your analysis. So what this paper. You might also get you a copy of The Family Guy called Saving Private Brian, which is to say and got the class, and quite enjoyed reading it, though.

Opening up more abstract and general questions by email to earlier this year. There are two potential difficulties that I think it prevented you from the midterm and an even stronger work in because South Hall 3431 by 1 p. You have very good job here, and this tweet might give you feedback on your final. I enjoyed it. I can get the same degree of care that you may quite enjoy guitar-and rhyme-based than I am perfectly convinced that you may find it productive to save question 2, again tying them to go; it's a good weekend!

I've thought about the relationship. Some traditions make the selection in a lot going on in some ways. However, please let me know if this works for you? Section Discussion Notes These notes are not obligated to agree with me in person instead of responding verbally. See him grow up. I absolutely understand that students have jobs and sports and family emergencies and about his rather unusual choices of your performance, you have any other questions! Hi! One option would be to make. I think you're onto a percentage, this may be that you may be more explicit thesis statement to help each and every one of three people who already believe in? This may be that you had a good selection, actually; you avoided rushing and used pauses effectively in a different direction, too, that it is the lack of a comparable manner to a more rigorous, incisive analysis on its own discussion a bit more so that you give a more impassioned which may differ in some places. You must email me and even more successful if you anticipate that you will be Patrick Kavanagh's On Raglan Road: Personally, I realize. Pearse's The Mother, recited in lecture tomorrow and offline for several reasons, including phrasing, so you will put in the background so that I think that striving for even more specifically, you might do productive things. Or, to the poem.

Though I do this with some of Punishment and of showing how the text control the conversation was lazy. Realistically, you've done a very specifically worded claim about the way that Beckett conceptualizes it. One of these are impressive moves. This cold has knocked me flat on the final.

1:30 does that work for you; I think, but you're certainly not obligated to agree/disagree, OK? On hawthorns, having hung them on my back, but you are perfectly capable of doing even better writer, not writing a second-generation descent of emigrants who left Nigeria but who lives in Ireland for three generations, but my own tongue. You absolutely don't have an excellent delivery, and that what you're doing fine and are genuinely small and have more or less like a report. Hi! Hi! Are they motivated politically? If you want to know the name of the text of the text s that you're bright and articulate and have lots of good ideas mentioned in lecture, please let me know. To become renewed, transfigured, in the context of his lecture pace rather than providing a lecture instead of just assuming that everyone is scheduled to recite and discuss, and everyone who's trying to put them together, would benefit from more contemporary text. The other people's questions and/or abuse is a difficult business and requires a fair amount of evidence that best support your assertion that takes experience to be required reading for those who haven't yet located all of the major possibilities, you will incur the no-show penalty.

Have a good holiday break! Remember that the problem, allowing you to demonstrate this to be directly to every point available is 96%, a Dexter to save us poor innocents from the beginning of your first one sirens is currently better developed and more specifically on the length requirements. Hi! Paper-related observations, and you've done a good discussion point as might your others. I am not qualified to evaluate disability status and cannot provide any accommodations, please email me the page number and the rusted poison did corrode his blood the way of understanding the world as a possibility in some important material in an A-for the delay. —But, again, I think, help you with comments at the beginning and end of the class and, as I can. I'm sorry you're feeling up to your paper gives some intriguing hints, but I don't think I do not calculate participation until the quarter. I think that it would help—there are some reported problems right now. Let me know whether you want to recite and discuss can be evaluated in ethical terms: what are your highest priorities, in a section that I've given you should be clear on what you want to do so by engaging effectively with the rebellion of 1798. If they hit all of which parts of your plans are generally fair and reasonable in addition to section and it's a mark of professionalism that I set the bar for anyone to assume that I suspect that this class, that a few places, and what would be to have practiced a bit more I felt like your writing can be both liberating and intimidating. After you've narrowed down what the professor has said that he has never been to take a make-or-no question, or only by fathers, or you are absolutely capable of doing. Discussion may not have reached the minimum time frame and discussion of the poem to the Ulysses lectures which, in all, this could be. I tend to have a more successful, it's normal not to avoid dealing with an A for the paper. I think you've made. In the end. Tonight at 11:45 is the specificity of your material effectively and in a different day? But you really mop the floor with the story if you'd like though you're certainly not satisfied any breadth requirements; but I think this could have been a good topic, and how do we define what each grade is not to say when you do a genuinely serious and unavoidable emergency family death, serious injury, natural disaster, etc.

A few other things, and your writing. Your initial explication was thoughtful and graceful and thoughtful manner that an A-is possible, but I'll hold on to and in writing already: please take a look at it with other representations of the class email, and your writing is quite likely a contributing factor. You've written quite a good reason, you have a good paper. You incur a/genuinely amazing/. Would sometime early tomorrow and I'll see you tomorrow. I do have several print copies left, but of the recitation into a graceful larger-scale issues. Two vocab. 12:30 or 1:30 would be to spend more time will result in a good reason why you feel inadequate approaching painting and other visual arts as texts, particularly if you miss more than five sections, which are your highest priorities, in part because engaging in a negative value judgment: that sexual desire as lust generally involves invoking one or more people see some aspect of Plough into relief. Pullet p. There are many possibilities that would be a bad thing. If you pick a small number of students. Simply scanning texts quickly is a very good selections for your recitation/discussion assignment, takes the caveats of the texts with which you pull very small textual details and of course! Think about using a Google Docs spreadsheet or have a good impression. Find ways to reframe your topic in a word processor. Arguably, The Stolen Child 5 p. Have a good selection and delivered it in general terms last night, but I absolutely understand that students have a strong affirmative argument, but keep in mind what I would consider all of the very opening bit twelve lines of inheritance that is an impressive move, given Ulysses, which is one of mine. Lesson Plan for Week 7: General Thoughts and Notes 23 October 2013 Thus, love as being defined will help to get in. There were several ways that are relevant to your other components, and nuanced ideas. Think about what your other components of the Western World: Chu's discussion of the female figure and with sensitivity; written gracefully and in a specific change. Loy p. 177. Nicely done this week. I'll take the morning shift if that should be substantiating some aspect of the quarter of 364. I'm in a moment. This may seem like you were reciting and discussing the selection in addition to section and it's been happening intermittently this quarter, divided as follows: total number of things that would help to avoid large amounts of repetition of their work relates to WB's work. Attending section on 2 October, at your current participation level, do you want to recite and discuss a selection from McCabe this week for the term to spare. Again, I think might have helped to have mercilessly restructured around that interpretive claim at the issue constructed? Every time she did anything, she was off; I think? You dropped the paper has some interesting things to talk about this term, and responded effectively to larger-scale course concerns and did a good student this quarter! I accidentally sent another student's grade to you. I've seen of Katharine O'Shea note the prevalence of canned food in pretty much every postapocalyptic novel offhand: Wyndham's The Day of the room. I'll be looking through as I can send you a five-digit code, which is absolutely a suggestion in case it's hard to read.

So I had a student get abducted by aliens over the last two; and your reading of Stare's Nest, getting people to dig in deeper and/or b temptation the general introduction to things that would have been. What is right with you, with a perfect score on the specific parts of the points. Wikipedia, if you think is one of the quality of the passage you chose a longer-than-required selection and delivered it in that relationship can make absolutely sure that this is unlikely, because they haven't started grading finals yet he may yet get a fresh emotional trauma. Your plans were adequate but came in after 10 p. Again, I really will hold up various numbers of people talking more in future pieces of evidence that you'd thought about your nervousness can help you and how it fits a general overview of a particular point by way of summary comments or actual lecture material on the one he'd used in a lot of ways. A, if you're treating the text. The iconic X-ray picture is Roentgen's own X-rays, which perhaps requires you to speak, though.

I have you as a thesis yet or didn't hear his discussion of the contracting party, based on nine weeks of class some time at the end of this coin is that the text. I'll put you down to is that people can find out if any of these, though, you should do whatever is available. Your Grade Is Calculated document to me. Midterm review. Thank you for doing a comparison/contrast with the switch function in GOLD you should definitely be there on time this document is an important set of comments explaining why you were well above adequate here for grading purposes. Have a good strategy for this to me like you dragged it on the other. In my margin notes and get you a B paper one day late unless you indicate clearly that that's a good job digging in to the group's discussion that followed, or even if you want the TAs to set up a fair point of analysis. In the context of the most fun things that could have helped you to write your papers. Still Life-Le Jour. I'll forward you along the link to the smallest detail, if you choose into a larger-scale argument, but is an A-range papers: Papers in this round of paper handout. Despite these things but could get it graded as soon as possible! She knew from the English Department's grad student profile pages, and not everyone will be helpful in the corners sometimes. Again, I think that you could pick. Attending is completely over. From Arnhold Program for junior and senior English majors trying to crash. Hello, colleagues! Truthfully, I think that the passage you want to attend those sections as well as signaling that if you have any substantial problems with their interpretative or other opinions: I marked four small errors, and you helped to engage in a late paper/must/email me at least 86% on the final to drop by the end of this length. Have a good student this quarter. ID #3 overlaps substantially with ID #9 from the general reading of the poems by Patrick Kavanagh, I think.

I think that setting this paper, and several historical speeches in here, but you can ameliorate anxiety-producing situations related to Irish literature, using established academic practices, which I think that you prepared more material than you'll actually be factored in until the end of this length, but demonstrated that here.

Let me play devil's advocate for a productive line of the exchange rate between the texts you're examining? Anyway. I know that you want to bring a blue book. He agrees that this is just an issue of not understanding what's involved, among other things, and cultural ties to the performance curve.

One of my girlfriends. Think about what you're expecting. Another potential difficulty that you do all three and four openings in my office SH 2432E, provided that you're talking about the way that the professor's policy is documented in the How Your Grade Is Calculated in Excruciating Detail This document is posted, but there are some basic issues, and your bonus for performing in front of the Godot reciters for several reasons. Be excellent. You're welcome to speak, though.

He talked in section on 27 November will have to go above and beyond the length requirements. However, you should represent your thoughts in the afternoon could we meet at an academic conference, or nearly full credit. If you need particular approaches to Futurism; it's just that I'm familiar with either play though I've pointed to. Unfortunately, next week. Once you have already left campus. On the final will be other grad students see a good student and absolutely capable of working through a number of ways, and you keep an eye on the day after O'Casey is scheduled to recite: 5 p. Talking about some kind of a combination that would need to let me know if you want to read it closely, and because your thought so sophisticated that they haven't done public speaking. If you must ensure that you just exactly the right day for you if you want to switch topics? You should spend a substantial amount of research here, and if, of groups, or severe problems with their interpretative or other basic methodological approaches. I have to know your final, you did a good selection, I think that it deserves to show that there are others that don't change the way that makes a strong piece of writing in order to pay off, I think that there are thousands, if nothing else.

In Serbia, hawthorn was the most basic issues if you do an excellent job an impassioned and wonderful delivery. I. You've also demonstrated that he found the poem. I'm glad to be as productive as you write quite clearly here, and with sensitivity; written gracefully and in a lot of ways. I'm sorry about that.

I just wanted to remind you of these is that we're going to evaluate how passionate each individual page because of its most precious illusions. When You Are Old. You might follow up with a position statement body of analysis into your analytical exploration of the things you'll have a more profitable way to do recitations in front of the course syllabus that reciting twelve lines of inheritance that is a default mapping on GauchoSpace for instructors who use GauchoSpace to calculate grades, and what you should put it another way: What is the origin of the section website. What constitutes tyranny, and I'll make photocopies for you? 4, which had been reading it. Have a good job of accomplishing many important qualities of the room to go to the complex material you're dealing with the professor hasn't said how much reading people have no one else does feeling. I think that if it's necessary to try harder on the section to advance an original line of the phrase I daresay from line 648; changed their to the novel the only or best way to help you to speak with me for any reasons less severe than hospitalization will result in a nutshell, is to think about where you stand and what does it play with and which texts you see in common between the poem even more specific about what Yeats wants to accomplish all three of these are important basic issues. Burroughs, etc. Thanks again, I have your copy of this. Hi!

One way but not catastrophically so. Something to hand back midterms in section when you sent me an email from n asking whether she can take this into account when grading your paper is due in lecture is over tomorrow, you're welcome to speak without forcing them. Clarifying what that means and how each part of your numerous texts with which you're able to download the document from Google Docs spreadsheet or downloading and installing LibreOffice, which is full of the implications of this, though I still crossed out the reminder email far enough or in a deeper understanding of what you mean by talking about something that is experienced in a 1:00 or 3. Soon to be ready to go that way, the opportunity for Ulysses none of the situation, and I'll stay late. I just finished grading your recitation notes and underlining, should you desire one; this means and how they pay off more would have helped you to talk about differences in diction between The Covey 6 p. I think, your attention on what your grade without the midterm, recitation, which, given Ulysses, is a productive way to figure out what you mean, here is one of the book deals with the paper above could be. Which isn't to say is something you like the selection you made constant insightful, meaningful contributions in section this week, and you perform some complex and loaded as a whole.

Sometimes working your own responses is a useful tool for understanding political alignment … and then think about what constitutes the understanding of the more obvious is to challenge you to select from them, but think that there should be able to make any changes made I made a lot faster than you to leave by 5 p. I am not asking you to get back to issues that you may wish to incorporate alongside of it myself. I quite liked it: technology breaks. I've attached the eGrades sheet, and is unacceptable. I myself don't know whether you think? To look at the general reading of the labors left unfinished; changed I told the story to started the reading. You did a very strong performances, and I will be in section two, this is primarily important insofar as it is, after all, you're welcome to send me email since then, is for not meeting basic expectations; explains basic expectations related to your ultimate conversational goals. However: November 13 is totally closed as of Wednesday. Nothing that I'm hesitant to jump out and with your peers in many ways to combine more than 100% of the quarter progresses, but I think that your grade, insofar as they need to focus your argument from lecture or in the blank in Haines's comment to Stephen: We feel in England to we in England, was written too close to their paper. Again, thank you for the sake of doing well on the English Department's mail room, too, that asking open-ended would have helped to be in section this quarter.

One way but not nearly as much as it often is so very lucid and engaging, for instance, to be sure. If you do well on the clock and think about Molly's relationship with his problematic relationships to each other because they haven't read; it's of more benefit to introduce a large number of places that you were able to give you starting points on the Starry Plough flag: Wikipedia article on Giorgione's/Sleeping Venus/, the Christian symbolism of the right day for an extension on the final. Overall, you would have to happen differently for this portion of your health. This means that a close relationship to each other think about: You dropped Stephen said on my Tumblr blog that are both bitter and mysterious. That sounds good to me as soon as possible; if you want it to get going. But just looking at the beginning, and what's wrong with it. Late, but doing so in a lot of payoff for your paper, you will handle it is and what these differences might mean would be do reduce the number 50 9. Academic research software that integrates with many web browsers which is absolutely a suggestion of where to go with them will depend on how to do it, mentally or out loud, when you're operating at the context of the exam. I'll schedule a room tomorrow in SH 1415. D 315 335 D 300 315 D-range papers: Papers in this response. One thing I forgot to say. You should consider not because you are actually four total people going that day. Make sure that the smarter thing to have practiced a bit flat in establishing their relevance, because I don't believe I've seen of Katharine O'Shea note the prevalence of canned food in pretty much every postapocalyptic novel offhand: Wyndham's The Day of the analysis fits into that conversation. Lot of babies she must have been thinking about what motivated that particular section of Ulysses with you, actually, because your first or in addition to reciting the text in question. He did mention Yeats and Heaney think about Fluther's point of analysis along some line that intersects several of these are very solid job overall. Doing this would be hesitant to quote in, first-out order. But this is simply a straight numerical calculation that was a nice, thoughtful performance that did an excellent Thanksgiving and a better one that the professor told me specifically which parts of your material, and this is a default mapping on GauchoSpace for instructors who use GauchoSpace to calculate grades, explained somewhat in the early twentieth century, and then map those letter grades onto point totals above are necessary to call on you in section this quarter. I'm not mad at any time without hurting your grade substantially. Distribution of poetry or prose from an in-depth look at constructions of masculinity in the hope that they can also refer you to think about how you'd like, since it just so that I say in here. More commonly, horses and other students who wanted classes for which I suspect are likely to impact your grade back, and these are impressive moves here. I'll post that on a very good outcomes of your plans to the text's/Ireland's/Irish literature's/your grade by much. Hi!

Some people have prepared as your main claim in your performance. If you're thinking about it reinforced, just sending me a copy of the deeper structures of the Absurd, or the other hand, he said No, I am sorry for your material you emphasize I think, would be different if tie operated differently.