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nat-20s · 4 years ago

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PROMPT! the first time the s1 archive gang hangs out outside of work (any variation of the group, doesn’t have to be All of them)

This is only the Archive Assistant sqaud, bc I’m sorry Jon, but no bosses allowed. Also it’s VERY silly and soft bc sometimes u just wanna write nice things u know

(also also fuck I lovecompletely missed that this said “first time” they hang out but uhh. I hope u like it anyway.)

Tim Stoker like to think that, sometimes, not to toot his own horn, but he can be something of a genius. When a cousin’s cousin had offered to let him use their cozy little cabin for a night or two in exchange for help with moving, he had been struck with what could only be humbly described as “inspiration of the most divine nature”. For, as nice as a Friday evening away from it all by himself sounds, it’s so much nicer for a Friday evening away from it all to serve as Archival Assistants Bonding Time™. Or well, more like Tim and Sasha, Who Are Already Best Friends Forever, Figure Out What Martin’s Deal Is, Because For A Guy So Chatty, He Sure Is Mysterious Time™, but that’s not nearly as catchy. Truly, his plan was brilliant, bringing two compatriots and an excessive amount of food and drink to a spot away from the prying eyes of the world and bosses, and feast in the openness and silliness that comes from having a great fucking time.

His plan, and his genius, were tragically derailed. While he knew on their drive up that the air was rapidly getting cooler, Tim couldn’t have even pretended to predict that an hour into their stay would bring a freak blizzard that means they’re snowed in for the next three days, which was 3 times longer than he had accounted on spending with his coworkers/friends. There was more than enough food to last them, and almost enough alcohol, but as Sasha so kindly put it:

“First you make us reenact the first scene of every bad teen slasher movie, now there’s a fucking white out. If we lose power, I’m telling you, there is absolutely going to be a murder.”

“Pfft, no way. The guy who owns this place is one of those weird ass prepper types, there’s a back up generator for the back up generator. And even if we did lose power, we’re all much more the “huddle for warmth under a shared blanket in front of the roaring fire” types than the “get panicked and stab someone in darkness” types, right? Back me up here, Marto.”

Martin, who at three shots in is both hilarious and mean, directs his response to Sasha. “in the event of a black-out I vote we kill Tim. I can take him down and you can finish the job.”

Sasha tips her cup at him, saying, “I like the way you think,” at the same time that Tim yells out, “Hey! Why am I the one dying?!”

Sasha tells him, “Duh. This whole thing was your idea, which makes you the Dr. Black* of this situation. Any good mansion murder mystery dictates the the host dies first. Then, in a moment of entirely unplanned synchronization, her and Martin start chanting, “Host dies first! Host dies first!”

“Okay, you know what? Fuck both of y’all, it’s not my fault that you’re both thoroughbred city slickers that can’t handle being in a cabin with plumbing and running water and electricity. Didn’t either of you go camping as kids?”

Sasha replies “No I’m far too pretty for that,” while Martin bursts out laughing. It takes about 20 seconds for him to settle down. Wiping away a tear, he elaborates, “Sorry, sorry, just. Can not imagine my mother on a camping trip. I mean, sure, she probably hoped at one point or another that I’d be lost in the woods as a child, or maybe even now, but I think that’s a bit different.”

Tim leans over the kitchen counter, placing his chin in his hands as he says, “Oh shit, Martin lore. Spill the deets.”

Sasha, who’s loyalties tend to sway towards whatever’s most interesting in the moment, piles on with, “You called her your mother, not your mum. That’s means she’s pretty much a right bastard, or a member of the aristocracy, which is just another term for right bastard but you got to grow up as a rich kid. Am I right?”

It’s clear the the two of them have made a grave mistake. All joviality flees Martin’s expression, and he shrinks down both his physical presence and his voice to something that could easily be overlooked if someone wasn’t paying attention. “Oh, um, well, I definitely didn’t grow up as a rich kid. And, it terms of the ‘right bastard’ thing, she’s not- er. That’s to say, she’s- she’s sick and. She’s doing the best she can, given, given everything.”

Martin pointedly looks at his hands while Tim and Sasha panickedly look at each other. They go to either side of him, and when he doesn’t flinch away, they each place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Tim immediately feels the itch to fill the heavy quiet, and he happens to know he has quite the talent for blazing on ahead after these kinds of moments. It’s how he’s survived basically party for the past decade. “Ooookay, I’m gonna go ahead and say that all depressing familial reveals shall be held off until at least the second night of being trapped. While Sasha may have irritatingly few skeletons in her closet in that regard-”

“I have Tory grandparents?”

“We all have Tory grandparents Sash, that’s absolutely nothing. As I was saying, while Sash’s family is boring and semi functional, you and me are gonna do some fuckin’ commiserating on our journey from work friends to friend friends. However, I’m going to have to be 40% drunker, go through a decently strong hangover, and then once again get hair of the dog drunk before I can even start to consider heading down that path. And in that spirit, I think it’s time to start up the drinking games. Truth or dare might end up a bit too heavy for our needs, but Never Have I Ever should suit us just fine. I know I’m gonna regret saying this considering Sasha is 100% going to target my ass, but I think we should establish that whoever puts all ten fingers down first has to chug the rest of the box wine.”

Sasha pipes up with, “Ugh, no, not drinking games, that’s such twenty-something bullshit. I expected better from you.”

“Hey, Martin is a twenty-something, so that still works fine actually-”

“Tim!”

“What?”

Martin’s directing wide, bordering on frantic, eyes at him, and Tim is almost certainly missing something, though he can’t for the life of him figure it out. Sasha’s head is bobbing slightly between the two of them, and shes apparently able to parse what Tim has not. “Oh! Martin, uh, I already know that you’re 2, and it’s cool.”

“Did..did Tim tell you or?”

Tim scoffs out an “I wouldn’t!” even though there’s a distinct possibility that, entirely on accident, he would, and Sasha makes a reassuring coo. “No, no, babe, nothing like that. It’s just that, uh, the Magnus Institute is kind of notorious for not doing any background checks pretty much ever, so when I get a new coworker, I..do it myself.”

Martin’s face blanches, and his eyes somehow get even wider. “Oh god, please don’t tell Jon or Elias, I know I don’t have the credentials, but I really need-”

“Woah, woah, I’m not gonna do that. First of all, archival assistant squad, we ride together we die together in a snowed in god forsaken log cabin, secondly, it’d be hypocritical as fuck if I got up your ass about qualifications. Not a single one of us is qualified for our jobs, not even Jon. Maybe especially not Jon. It’s like, raise your hand if you have a degree in library sciences. No one? Okay, cool, that’s not weird at all for an archive. Actually, maybe bring that up next time he gives you shit. He’ll be all like ‘bluh bluh, you didn’t document this spooky bullshit well enough, it’s not up to the High Standards here at Spooky Bullshit Emporium’ and you can be like ‘whatever buddy, you’re an English major, what do you fuckin’ know?’. It’ll be devastating. He’ll be devastated.”

Martin laughs in the manner of someone who knows that they shouldn’t be, and his shoulders relax into a lower position. “Why would you want me to devastate him? I thought you guys were friends?”

“We are, which is why we all collectively need to get back at Jon for acting like such a prick. He’s always been a bit temperamental, but I honestly don’t get what his deal is, especially with you. I mean, c’mon, you’re great, being mean to you is like kicking a puppy.”

“Thanks? I think?”

Tim pipes up with, “Oooo, since drinking games are apparently too childish for Sasha, what if instead we play ‘What’s Jon’s Deal Anyway, Featuring, Seriously, Why Target Martin, The Baby of The Archives’-”

“-That feels a bit reductive of who I am and I also I think I’m technically older than Jon?-”

“-Whoever comes up with the best explanation, and by best obviously I mean most entertaining, gets an all expense paid trip from the other two to one of the charity shops I know we all frequent.”

Sasha snorts, “Wow, a whole twenty quid, who could resist such temptation. But also, I’m in, I think I have a winner and I have a violent need to out-cardigan Jon.”

Martin’s relaxation is gone again, which Tim thinks need to be fixed through aggressively passing a glass of wine towards him. He takes it without protest, takes a long drink, and says, “This seems more like 3 am conversation than a 9 pm one.”

Sasha gives an encouraging nudge, prompting another drink, and replies, “Yeah, well, I am not gonna make it to 3 am. I’ve got about an hour until the Alcohol Sleepiness sets in, and I know Tim will be right behind me.”

“Sashaaaaaa, you’re ruining my reputation as a young-at-heart, party-all-night kind of guy.”

“Babe, you’ve complained about your bones aching often enough that you’ve never had that reputation.”

“Surrounded by mean drunks, that’s what I am. I should be pitied.”

Martin shoots a glance towards Sasha, then replies, “You’d be more pitiable if this entire thing wasn’t, you know, entirely your own fault.”

Sasha nods sagely, “It’s true. If you were pitiable then maybe you wouldn’t have to die first.”

“You know what? I am uncomfortable with the energy that’s been created in this room, how about we divert some of that towards complaining about our bosses, as coworkers who are hanging out and having a good time and not bullying me are supposed to do.”

Sasha giggles slightly as she leans down and presses a kiss to Tim’s cheek. “Aw, sorry, Tim. I promise to double cross Martin when if becomes killing time.”

Tim melts a little, even as he’s replying, “Wait, when?” Martin takes another sip and says, “Whatever. I could take you both.”

How the hell are you supposed to resist a set up like that? With an over the top wink and cheesy grin, Tim says, “I bet you could, big guy.”

He’s expecting a slightly flustered reaction, maybe a higher pitched voice and a blush, if he’s lucky. He gets all of those things, but it’s Sasha saying, “Oh my god.” Martin only gives him a raised eyebrow and level stare, and Tim makes a mental note to reevaluate his dedication to only considering Martin in a strictly platonic fashion. Sasha continues talking, cutting through the..tension? with, “Okay, now I am uncomfortable with the energy that’s been created in this room. Tim, tell the studio audience what you think is up with Jon.”

Tim blinks, hard, gives a shake of his head, and says, “Oh, obviously the Jon we know is dead. His ‘promotion’ to Head Archivist was actually Elias killing him off and replacing him with a robot that has the command If: see Martin Then: be dick. Don’t worry Marto, now that Sasha is aware of the issue, she’ll surely be able to reprogram him.”

Sasha hums a bit, then says, “I buy it. I think my explanation’s better, but Elias does seem the “kill a dude and replace him” type. Like if I was gonna suspect any particular person of murder he’s in the top five.”

“Seriously? Elias? Somehow has middle manager vibes even though he’s the head honcho Elias? Mr. ‘I probably wore boat shoes and khaki shorts for the entirety of university’ Bouchard? Voted most likely to put a thin layer of mayo in between two pieces of white bread and claim it’s a sandwich Elias? The area man that’s almost certainly gone on record as saying that golf and networking are his favorite hobbies Elias? He’s far too boring to have committed a murder.”

Tim’s looking at Martin with shock and delight, and he knows Sasha is wearing the exact same expression. “More of this. Please describe more of the things that Elias is.”

“I mean, sure? Uhh, guy that would pay $80 for a dime bag because you told him it’s a premium strain. Person that ironically says things like “kids these days” and “the youths” and you know he’s talking about people well into their 30s. Genuinely believes that if you can afford a cell phone then you shouldn’t be complaining about being poor, because apparently a one time purchase of around a hundred bucks is the same as trying to pay monthly rent. Tells people to haul themselves up by their bootstraps. Thinks he got to where he was ‘without anybody’s handouts’ even though he’s had a trust fund since he was 15. Writes weekly editorials to the local newspaper complaining about the liberalization of media, and they’re like ‘sir, please stop submitting to us, we’re just trying to talk about Lisa’s gardening club’ because they can’t professionally tell him to fuck off. Thinks salt and pepper are the only spices one could ever possibly need, everything else is simply excessive. Somehow gay and homophobic. Like, yes, he’s taken a male lover, but he’s also seconds away from calling you a slur at any one time. Actually, no, that’s too interesting, and I refuse to believe he’s had a lover. Legally, he cannot have a lover, I’ve decided, so just gay and homophobic, both in theory alone. Has said that Boris Johnson is “a bit much, but really not so bad, and much better than any of the alternatives, really.” All of the cousins in his family banded together and officially got him banned from any sort of major holiday dinners. Basically every shitty boss you’ve ever had, especially if you’ve worked retail, rolled into one.”

Tim lets out a low whistle. “Damn, all right. Get fucked Elias.”

Sasha emphatically agrees, “Get fucked Elias.”

They all clink their glasses together, and then there’s a beat of silence before Martin says, “I’m pretty sure robots can’t get eye bags.”

Tim and Sasha let out a “huh” and “hmm?” respectively, so Martin elaborates. “You posited that Jon had been replaced with a robot. Pretty sure robots aren’t able to look that tired.”

Tim snaps. “Drat, you’ve pointed out the one flaw in my impeccable logic. So what d’you think is up with him? I know you don’t have the Before The Archives comparison, but I think you could provide a fresh perspective.”

“Oh, fuck, I don’t know. Two months ago, I might have had some choice words, but first off, you all genuinely got on, so it didn’t really make sense for him to be awful all the time, and secondly ever since the, um, worm thing, he’s actually been pretty nice? I haven’t heard any snide comments, and whenever I mess something up he’s a lot more, um, gentle about explaining what wrong. He actually complimented my work the other day so. I guess I think Jon’s deal was that he was stressed out and I was very nervous and not very good at my job and he picked up on that?”

“So you think he’s like a horse.”

“Explain.”

“He sensed your fear and he became skittish and irritable in kind.”

“Horses can sense fear?”

“Horses can sense everything.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Right?”

“Guys, we’ve gone on like four different tangents in one conversation. Martin, I’m very glad to hear that Jon’s changed his behavior towards, because it means I don’t have to yell at him on your behalf, you’re getting to see the person that me and Tim both know who is actually pretty cool, and also mostly because it feeds perfectly into my winning theory.”

“What, you’ve got something better than Martin’s ‘accurate but boring’ reasoning or my ‘super cool but now that I think about it for .5 seconds actually kind of a bummer robot’ knowledge?”

Sasha’s incredibly self-assured when she says, “I sure fuckin’ do. Jon’s secretly been in love with Martin the whole time, and he’s been previously overcompensating by acting like he hates him.” which makes Tim choke on air and Martin emphatically reply, “Fuck off, he is not.”

“No, no, hear me out, I have, I have receipts, as the kids say. First point of evidence: Martin’s stupid hot, and there’s no way that Jon is straight, so obviously he’s not gonna be impervious to that.”

“What?”

“Oh come off it Martin, it’s just a fact. Like, me personally? I don’t even do the whole romance thing, but the first time I ever saw you I blacked out slightly and thought ‘Now there’s a man I could raise some ferrets with.’.”

“I, um, I, well. Is that...supposed to be a euphemism for something?”

“What? No, I’ve just always wanted ferrets, and asking someone to raise pets with you is like the height of romance, I’m pretty sure. Back me up here Tim.”

“On the ferret thing or the Martin hot thing?”

“Either? Both.”

“Aight. Yes, asking someone to raise ferrets with you is basically a marriage proposal if that someone is Sasha, and I hate to break it to you Martin, but you’re incredibly good-looking. We’re all incredibly good-looking, to the point where I think the only qualification for the archives staff is being a straight up hottie. OH! We should name the group chat “straight up hottie squad”. Anyway, yep, point for Sasha.”

“Not a point for Sasha, even if I believe you about about my, em, physical attractiveness,-”

“-Don’t have to put belief in a fact, Marto-”

“-that doesn’t mean anything. By that logic, he’s equally as likely to be in love with either of you, and my money would be on Sasha if it was anyone, because you’re clearly his favorite.”

“Ah, but that’s exactly why it isn’t me, but thank you for the transition into my second point which is: Jon is the kind of person that sees anything that might make him vulnerable and starts aggressively defending himself against it, and what’s more vulnerable than a crush? He’s not crushing on Tim, because Tim’s fucking great, but sometimes he’s also the walking, talking embodiment of sensory overload, and while I myself I love that, Jon clearly gets a bit overwhelmed by it at times. He’s not into me, because he knows better than that, and overall I’m pretty non-threatening to his whole thing, so of course he’s going to be the most relaxed around me. You, on the other hand, are single, hot, kind to animals and people alike, and make a great cup of tea. Incredibly crush worthy, thus incredibly threatening, thus Jon acting like That.”

“Hmm, this still seems like something that comes from watching one too many corny rom coms, and that’ s coming from someone who loves corny rom coms.”

“I also love corny rom coms, but that’s completely beside the point. Because, okay, sure, if Jon had just been a weird asshole to you, I wouldn’t be like ‘oh, yeah, that’s a classic case of covering for something’ but you’re right about him being nicer since the worm thing. So nice, in fact, I shall be bringing in Timothy as my star witness that’s going to blow this whole case wide open. Martin, you may not have heard how Jon has started to talk about you, but me and Tim sure have.”

“God, yeah. Like if we thought he wouldn’t shut up about you before-

“-which he wouldn’t-”

“it’s gotten way worse now.”

“I think the whole life threatening worm woman flipped a switch for him and now he’s all fuckin. ‘Oh, Martin should stay in the archives, let me give him the place that I sleep.”

“Oh, Martin, I don’t think he should go out on too many research trips anymore, I’d much prefer for him to be ~nice and close~”

“Oh, Martin, good lord, did you know that his tea is quite good? I’m think it might actually be the best I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, Martin, his work’s rather improved, don’t you think? It’s really quite impressive, especially considering all the stress he’s had to endure.”

“Oh, Martin, I just want him to take me into his big, strong arms and whisk me away from all of this.”

“He did not fucking say that last one.”

Sasha throws her arms up in the air. “He may as well have!”

Nodding sagely, Tim replies, “This whole thing holds water. I vote Sasha gets the shopping trip. Martin?”

Martin stares at his drink as if it has any ability to give him any sort of answers, then lets out a sigh with his entire body. “You know what? It’s probably nicer than whatever the fuck is the truth, so sure, why not? Let’s get Sasha her cardigans.”

Sasha lets out a whoop. “Hell yeah! Can’t wait for spree, assuming all three of us get out of this cabin alive.”

“Okay, nope, clearly Sasha needs another distraction. Got any suggestions, Martin?”

“Uh, wasn’t a karaoke machine part of the sales pitch for this place?”

“Martey babey, yes! I wouldn’t have thought you’d spring for that sort of thing!”

“If this were a public bar or something where I’d have to listen to drunk strangers and they’d have to listen to me, then no, I’d rather have my brain pulled through my nose a la mummification. But with only you guys and fourish drinks in? I’m down to clown.”

“Sash, you with us?”

“Dunno, what songs are there?”

Tim shrugs, and heads to the storage closet that contains all the various entertainment equipment. It takes a bit of searching, and a bit more digging, but he’s able to unearth the ancient portable karaoke machine. He also grabs some of the jigsaws, mostly on the thought that sometimes a bitch just wants to hang out with their friends and do a puzzle. Also because in light of the fact that they’re stuck inside with no sort of access to the outside world for two days longer than planned, there’s pretty much no way that they’re not going to reach a point where they all say fuck it let’s do a puzzle.

Plugging in the machine, it takes a solid several minutes to boot up, which is the perfect length of time to take it upon himself to take one for the team and chug the box wine himself, with Sasha and Martin chanting in the background. When he finishes, they cheer, and then Martin immediately shoves a glass of water for him to down as well, muttering something about how he wants him to be alive in the morning. Tim can tell he’s well inebriated by now, because the simple thoughtful gesture is enough to make him a little bit misty-eyed, and Sasha can attest to alcohol turning him into the world’s biggest sap. In order to avoid prevent himself from becoming the kind of person who says “I love you” in a gradually more sloppy repeat, he starts flipping through the discography of the now running machine. “Alright y’all, it looks like we got 80s songs or...80s songs. Ooo, they have the Grease 2 soundtrack.”

That gets him a well deserved “No!” from both parties, with Sasha adding on, “Not even if it was Grease 1. I’m putting an embargo on musical theater in general.”

“Oh come on, some musicals are better than other. Right, Marto?”

“I’m with Sasha on this one.”

“Boo. But fine, what do you want?”

Martin and Sasha glance at each other, and Tim’s amazed at how well the bonding night-turned-long-weekend has gone so far, considering they seem to have already mastered the art of silent communication. Martin speaks first, with, “They got Dolly Parton?”

The process of scrolling through individual letters to type is achingly slow, but luckily all he needs to get through is “DO” before she shows up. “They do.”

Sasha says, “Do they got 9 to 5, by Dolly Parton?”

Tim’s eyes light up with realization as he says, “They do,” and in a moment of spontaneous understanding, all three of them know that they’re not simply going to sing 9 to 5. No, they’re going to do a full blown music video for the benefit for nobody but themselves, because why the fuck not.

The next hour is spent in a very silly fashion. They figure out how to use the cabin’s layout to their advantage, assign various parts of the song to each person, and practice their inexpert choreography a few times with the song tinnily blasting from Sasha’s phone. The final result is hardly of professional quality, but it is of making them all giggle quality. It starts off in a relay like manner, each of them in a different area to coordinate with “Tumble of out bed and stumble to the kitchen” (Sasha on the couch), “Pour myself a cup of ambition”, (Tim at the coffemaker), and “Yawn and stretch and try to come to life” (Martin at the fridge), with them finally crowding around the karaoke machine together to scream sing the chorus. Despite their practice, they quickly go off key, and while they might end up with low points for accuracy, they get full marks on enthusiasm.

When the song ends, it takes them a few minutes to settle down into something less giddy. As they do, Sasha, out of breath, says, “Fuck me, I’m sleepy now. What the hell?”

Tim hums in affirmation. “Goddammit, I’m tired too. Let me guess, Martin, you’re young enough that you could go all night?”

“No? I’ve never pulled an all-nighter in my life. Actually, I know that it was supposed to be in case the power went out, but huddling together under a blanket in front of a fire sounds really nice? I mean, um, if you guys were down.”

Sasha leans her head against Martin’s shoulder and takes on the expression of a deeply content cat. “Mmm, I call Martin, he’s warm.”

“Absolutely not, I also want to leech Martin’s warmth. You good with being in the middle?”

Martin’s practically beaming, but his voice manages to almost fake being put upon. “I suppose it’s a sacrifice I could make.”

With Sasha already half asleep, Martin brings her over to the couch, while Tim gets them all set up. He manages to find the kind of big, fluffy blanket that all cabins should contain and wraps it around their shoulders. Luckily for them, the fireplace is gas lit and can be put on a timer. He sets it for 30 minutes, even though all three of them are going to be long passed out before them. Sasha is already softly snoring away, and Martin’s head keeps drifting down and snapping back up. Tim curls up against Martin’s other side, and even though all three of them are going to wake up with aching backs and worse heads, he thinks he really just might be a genius after all.

*Why is Mr. Boddy’s name Dr. Black in the UK. I hate that. Why would you not have the dumb joke of ��naming the victim “boddy”. Hey brits explain your crimes.

#anon #replies #nat fic #tma #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james

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let-it-raines · 5 years ago

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Prompt: two boarding school teachers finally, FINALLY get together. Everyone around them is way too invested and knows way too much. I'd send you the link but tumblr won't like that.

Okay @shireness-says this completely and totally spiraled, and I 100% blame you for that. I’m sure you won’t mind though, and I hope that you enjoy!

Rating is on the more mature side for the ending, as per request 😘

-/-

Wind whips through the courtyard as Killian walks along the sidewalk wishing he had a scarf to go along with his jacket and his knit hat, but he can’t seem to find his school-approved scarf. He’s thirty-two years old, and he still has to wear a school-approved scarf when it’s school hours and he’s technically on the clock. Though, working at a boarding school means he’s nearly always on the clock when he’s in charge of the eleventh-grade boys’ dorm three nights a week. At least they don’t check his scarf-wearing there.

He simply has to check to make sure thirty hormonal seventeen-year-olds aren’t sneaking out or sneaking girls in. Most nights it’s easy, others he swears he gains several wrinkles on his face, and sometimes he has to call in Rob on his night off to help to get them to all settle down.

Killian never thought that being a Calculus teacher would be this damn hard, and he voluntarily became a Calculus teacher.

The dorm beds really kill his back, and he longs for the days where he can stay in his apartment in the faculty building that’s located between the boys’ and girls’ dorms.

Tomorrow.

He’ll be back in his apartment tomorrow, and he cannot wait to spend the entire time in bed.

Pulling his coat a little tighter around him, Killian keeps trudging through the slight dusting of snow with his backpack bouncing against his lower back. A group of students are throwing a football back and forth to each other while another bunch sit at a cluster of picnic tables, their voices echoing between the small group of buildings, and Killian can’t help but smile at them voluntarily sitting out in the cold simply so they can get in a little fun on their lunch hour.

The thing about Storybrooke Academy is that it’s remote. Wealthy parents up and down the east coast ship their teenagers off to live and be educated in the ivy-covered halls of this prestigious academy for two reasons:

(1) The teachers are top notch.

(2) Their children have very little access to distractions.

The actual town of Storybrooke is a fifteen-minute walk downhill – which inevitably means the walk back is a torturous fifteen minutes uphill – and since students cannot have cars here, the only way to leave the campus is by walking. They’re also only allowed to leave on the weekends, and even then, anyone under sixteen has to be accompanied by a faculty member. As much as Killian loves his students, he doesn’t love spending the little free time he has on the weekends with them as they spend their entire day at the diner that backs up to the beach.

He doesn’t blame them for going there, though. Not at all. As wonderful as their meal hall food is, it can get repetitive. And as much as they all try to provide the kids with enough study material to spend their afternoons and enough entertainment to spend their evenings, it can get a little boring up here. The headmaster is a bit old school in that he doesn’t believe in school-wide Wi-Fi – “the internet is a distraction full of horrors, and we will not have it here outside of the library and the classrooms” – so it’s not as if they can spend their days scrolling through Instagram or streaming YouTube videos.

Is he old or does he simply sound old thinking that?

No matter, the students and faculty at Storybrooke Academy spend their free time in search of entertainment through reading, board and card games, the occasional movie night, and, of course, gossip.

Gossip, as they say, makes the world go around, and that is surely true here.

It’s what makes the clock in the tower tick and the ink in the pens run. It’s what causes teenagers to have flush rise in their cheeks and for adults’ whispers gets caught in the wind and carried to the three hundred people who live on this campus.

Killian doesn’t truly want to take part in it, but it’s nearly inevitable with how things work. For instance, he knows that their head cook Ms. Lucas was once married to their handyman Mr. Geppetto but that they can’t stand to be in the same room together now. It’s to the point that if something in the kitchen is broken, she will fix it herself and get electrocuted before calling for help. The gossip is always what allows him to know that last week a group of the tenth-grade girls snuck away from their dorm in the middle of the night to break into the science building so that they could use the internet to stream this week’s episode of the Bachelor. It is always what enables him to be aware of the fact that there was a copy of one of his tests floating around so now he’s been able to make a new test with new questions.

Mostly, however, being aware of the academy’s penchant for gossip is what has Killian knowing that he must keep his private life at a degree higher than private so no one knows the details of what is going on when he is off campus.

As Killian continues to move along the courtyard, he passes by Emma Swan and Mary Margaret Blanchard huddled together with a group of their history students. He tries not to look at her for too long, so he only sees a flash of blonde hair wrapped up under a warm white knit hat with a puffball on the top and the slightest hint of a smile. Blush warms his cheeks more than a scarf ever could, but Killian pushes it down. He is not a school boy, and he certainly will not blush like one over a pretty lass smiling at him.

Even if that pretty lass is the woman he’s been pining over for the past three years.

She may very well be the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen. The first day he ever saw her she walked into the faculty lounge wearing a skin-tight black dress that showed every curve of her toned body hidden under a vibrant red blazer. Her blonde hair cascaded off her shoulders in thick waves that he simply knew would be soft, and the sunlight gleaming through the windows made the green of her eyes almost look blue. She was breathtaking, and he nearly did have his breath taken away from him when he went to speak to her and words did not come out.

Not his best first impression, but certainly not his worst.

However, Emma isn’t simply someone who he’s physically attracted to. She’s smart and kind and so goddamn witty that his heart aches when she’s smiling while talking to him and that it aches even more when she’s smiling while talking to someone else.

Killian has never once had an issue telling a woman that he wants to be with her, and yet he can’t even think about telling Emma how much she means to him. They’ve grown too close.

Besides, Emma doesn’t feel anything besides friendship for him. How could she feel anything else? She deserves far better than him.

The thing about the rumors that bounce along the walls of this school is that they are not simply current rumors. They are rumors of the past like Killian’s forced retirement from the Navy at the age of twenty-two and the married woman who he was having an affair with. He didn’t know at the time, but that’s never seemed to matter.

Rumors make the world go around and yet bring a singular person to a screeching halt all at once.

“Killian,” Emma calls out, and he stops in his tracks to turn back around to look at her as she walks toward him. She’s even more beautiful close up, white specks of snow sprinkled in her hair and on the tip of her eyelashes, and the only thing keeping him from reaching up to touch the snow is Emma’s hand landing on his forehand as little sparks of electricity move over him. “Why weren’t you at breakfast this morning?”

Killian quirks his brow and sways a little further into Emma’s space, all of his usual bravado returning as his lips curl into a salacious smirk. “Did you miss me then, love? I know I’m irresistible, but I figured you could at least make it through breakfast without me.”

She good-naturedly rolls her eyes as her hand stays wrapped around his forearm. He can see the gold specks in her eyes from here. “I’m not stroking your ego, Jones.”

“You’re not stroking anything of mine if we’re being particular.”

“Please,” she huffs, a white puff of air coming out with her breath. “You couldn’t handle it.”

Killian dips his head down to lower himself to her eye-level and get as close to her as possible so that he knows she can feel the heat of his breath on her skin. Emma’s hand over his coat sleeve is burning him alive.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

She blinks, and he swears that she gets the smallest bit closer, her mouth nearing his, and his stomach painfully swoops at the prospect of Emma’s lips against his. He’s imagined it far too many times. They’ll be soft, he’s sure, and he knows that if Emma kisses anything like she argues, she’ll give as good as she gets.

If not better.

And if they weren’t standing in a courtyard filled with all of their students and if Killian wasn’t sure that Emma had no interest in him, he’d surge forward and pull her lips and her body into his so that he can feel the heat of her body all over him, the cold air around them completely disappearing as he is absolutely consumed by Emma.

Emma’s breath hitches, the sound the loudest thing he’s ever heard, and Killian’s thoughts come back to him so that he’s stepping back and righting his features while he wishes that his trousers weren’t quite so tight. Reaching up to scratch behind his ear, Killian smiles down at her, this time in a perfectly friendly way.

“I missed breakfast because I was grading papers. I’ll be at supper tonight if you’d truly like to dine with the best company on campus. I know that I can be charming.”

Her smile changes then, from soft to a bit smug, and she steps back into his space so that his breath hitches this time. Her hand has never left his arm. “I simply wanted to know where you were because I wanted my headphones that you borrowed back. I don’t find you that charming that I simply needed to see you.”

Killian bites his tongue to keep from laughing at the squeak in her voice, and he leans into her as a strong gust of wind ruffles their coats and causes Emma’s hair to fly into his own face, tickling his upper lip.

“All that sounds like, darling, is that you need me in order to listen to your music, and I suggest that you start to find me charming so that I’m able to give them back to you.”

There’s a pinch at his skin. “You’re an ass.”

He winks. “You love it.” Emma opens her mouth to say something else, but then a bell is ringing over the courtyard, and they both spring away from each other and look around to see that most everyone had already started to head inside in preparation for the fifth period bell to ring, and yet the two of them have simply been standing outside. “Well, Swan, I guess I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah, and bring my headphones.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Killian turns on his heels and starts walking toward the building where his classroom is. Emma follows right behind him except that she takes a turn one door earlier than him, and as soon as she disappears behind the stone walls, he lets out a sigh of relief and can feel his heart start to beat normally again. Not every interaction with her is that charged, but damn does he love it when they do get to talk like that.

There is nothing quite like him being able to tease her.

By the time Killian gets to his classroom, all of his students are already sitting in their desks, each of them on their phones to use the internet while they can, and they barely even notice his presence as he sits down in his rolling chair and places the stack of tests he was grading this morning on his desk before he turns on his computer to pull up today’s lesson plans.

“So,” he starts as he types his username in, “do you guys have anything interesting to tell me today? What have I missed while I was holed away grading your papers, which were excellent by the way. I’ll give them back after I have a chance to go over some of the answers to the trickier questions with you all.”

His usual very chatty peanut gallery is silent, and he stops looking at his computer screen to look up and over at all of them. No one talks more than his advanced class of seniors, but every single one of them is staring down at their notebooks, all of their phones put away like the annoyingly good students that they are.

Killian rolls his chair to the center of his desk and leans forward to rest his cheek in his right palm while the fingers of his left hand drum against the wooden frame. “It’s Monday. That means we just had a weekend, and since we’ve had a weekend, I know that means you all have gossip. And because I don’t want you annoying your other teachers with it, I need you guys to tell me what’s going on around the school.” Still, no one says anything, and Killian sighs. “I’m not going over the exam until someone spits it out. You lot can’t focus until after we’ve had our Monday afternoon chats.”

His eyes scan over the room and finally land on Caroline Abbot. She never can keep a secret.

Sure enough, she starts speaking once he’s spent two seconds staring at her. “Ms. Swan went on a date this weekend, and we didn’t want to tell you since we know that you like her.”

An anvil drops in his stomach, the pain overwhelming him, and Killian bites down on his tongue so harshly that iron immediately fills his mouth while flames flicker across his cheeks.

Bloody hell.

No.

Emma can’t have gone on a date. She simply can’t. Well, no, of course she could. She’s a gorgeous, intelligent woman, and she can do whatever she damn well pleases.

It’s just that…no, that’s hopeful thinking. They are not going to end up together, no matter how much his students are convinced that they are.

“First of all, Caroline,” he breathes out on a heavy sigh, “I do not have feelings for Ms. Swan.”

For fuck’s sake, why is he justifying himself to teenagers? Then again, he is the one to ask them about this weekend’s gossip, so he’s brought it on himself.

Who did Emma go out on a date with? Why didn’t she mention it? Why did no one mention it? Rob or Mary Margaret or, hell, Ms. Lucas should have mentioned it to him.

Emma should have mentioned it to him. They’re friends. They tell each other things. At least, he thought that they did. Yet, now that he truly thinks about it, he cannot remember the last time Emma told him one of her stories from her adventures in dating. They used to make a fire burn deep in his belly, still do apparently, and as nice as it was to listen to her share about her days, he’s a bit relieved that he hasn’t had to listen to any stories lately because he’s a miserable sod.

“But you do have feelings for her,” Abigail speaks up from the back of the classroom. “You two are perfect for each other, and everyone knows it but you.”

This gets the class in an uproar, as it always does, and Killian can do nothing to stop it. He’s tried before, but his students are absolutely convinced that he and Emma are some kind of fairytale True Love with capital letters and an overly cheesy happily ever after that doesn’t happen in real life because trials and tribulations still happen after the guy and the girl get together and drive off into the sunset.

And maybe he’d like to drive off into the sunset with Emma so that he can always hear the sound of her laughter and look at the crinkle of her nose as she smiles, but that’s simply not happening. The car is very much in park, if not shifting into reverse.

“Enough,” he shouts over the noise, banging his hand down on his desk just so that everyone can hear him. “Seriously, guys, I appreciate how much you care about your teachers, but Emma and I are simply friends and coworkers. You all go a little stir crazy holed up in here, so you’ve dreamed up this romance that simply isn’t there.”

“But it is,” George speaks up, and Killian is soothed by the familiar British accent of his student even if his words aren’t particularly pleasant. “You simply don’t know it yet. We all agree that the spark is there.”

Killian chuckles under his breath as his head shakes from side to side. He’s really got to get on with today’s lesson. “You know, as much as I love our Monday morning gossip sessions, I hate to tell you that no matter how hard you try, my personal life is never going to be something that runs along the rumor mill of this school. At least, my legitimate and current personal life. This hypothetical relationship between Emma and me doesn’t count.” Every single one of them opens their mouth to stay something, but he holds his finger up to stop them. “Nope. We’re moving onto Calculus, and that’s final.”

To say that the knowledge of Emma going on a date eats at Killian for the rest of the day is an understatement. The knowledge consumes him. Every second that he is not busy giving a lesson or grading papers his mind is focusing on it, and he knows that it’s unhealthy. It’s simply that he doesn’t think he’s able to turn his mind off and let himself focus on other, normal things that he should be focusing on.

Emma is a grown woman free to do what she wants, and she deserves all of the happiness in the world.

Killian was simply idiotic and selfish enough to think that some of that happiness could involve him.

It certainly doesn’t help that over the next few days Emma seems to be everywhere that he is. She slides in next to him in the booth at breakfast, excitedly telling him about this new book she just got in the mail or about how her foster brother is coming to visit next weekend, and he can barely keep his omelet down for the way that his stomach churns at the thought of her eating breakfast with whoever the mystery man is. If she doesn’t invade his space at breakfast, she’s finding him in the hallways between classes and utilizing the internet to show him something funny she found online. She’s always doing things like that. He’ll have not checked his phone overnight, and when he walks across campus to the classrooms where there’s internet, he usually has at least ten messages from Emma. The texts load in the dorm, at least for him, but the pictures and videos never do.

They’re living in a semi-dark age, obviously.

And Killian isn’t exactly going out of his way to avoid running into Emma. He’s obviously a glutton for punishment, and he will seek her out at dinner so that they can sit together and talk about their days and so he can see and hear that beautiful laugh of hers. It’s all normal, he tells himself, until one day he’s walking down the halls to the office to use the printer when he passes by her classroom and sees her showing some sort of video on the Waltz. Emma likes to add in little elements of fun into her history lessons, often incorporating pop culture moments, but she certainly doesn’t look to be having fun demonstrating the dance with Andrew Barron who seems to have two left feet.

Killian smiles as he stands in the doorway, his heart fluttering at the way that Emma even with her spitfire personality, stays so calm so as not to embarrass the lad.

Emma catches his eye over Andrew’s shoulder, and the little half-grin she shows him gives him the courage to step in and ask Andrew if he may have the dance with Ms. Swan.

“What are you doing?” Emma asks, the incredulousness obvious in her voice, but he ignores it in favor of folding his fingers over her hand and placing his left hand just below her shoulder while she places hers on top of his.

“I’m helping you demonstrate a Waltz, love.”

“I think we were doing just fine.”

Killian leans in a little closer so that their bodies are nearer to each other than they have any right to be. “Well, perhaps I just wanted to dance with a beautiful woman.”

Emma blushes, and her lips part to say something, but he doesn’t give her the chance, quickly moving his feet so that their bodies begin moving along to the music still playing on the projector. Her chest is visibly heaving and a little flushed, and it takes the sound of the metal leg of a desk scraping against the tile floor to remember that he’s in Emma’s classroom and that this is technically a lesson.

He should not be staring at her breasts.

“It’s really a rather simple dance,” he explains to the class, flashing them his broadest grin as his skin still sparks from the heat of Emma’s touch. “At least this version is. And if all else fails, you simply have to pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

They all nod in agreement, smiles on their faces, and Killian doesn’t fail to notice one of the students pulling out his phone to record them. He’s sure that it’ll make the rounds of the school and quite possibly the internet sometime soon, but he doesn’t really care, not when this is the most fun he’s had in days.

“Where’d you learn to do this?” Emma questions, her eyes lighting up as she looks up at him.

“You’d be surprised what they teach you in the Royal Navy.”

Her lips stretch out from one side to the next in a slow smirk, and Killian swears that his entire body is on fire. “I’m impressed, Mr. Jones.”

“As you should be, darling. And if you ever need someone to save you from a horrific dance lesson, you know where I am.”

“The only person who saves me is me.”

Killian winks as the music winds down to the end. “Aye, well, it never hurts to have a little help, especially when one of us is much better with our movement than the other.”

She scoffs and reaches out to slap his arm, but Killian stops her, grabbing onto her hand and bending down to press his lips to her knuckles, his eyes never straying from hers so that he can see her sharp intake of breath and the way that her eyes widen so that all he can see is green.

“It was a pleasure, milady. I’ll see you in our faculty meeting this afternoon, aye?”

And then he’s walking out of the classroom with a thundering heart, barely able to remember that he needs to pick up the papers he had with him when he walked into the room.

It’s wrong to want to be with her when she is likely with someone else, and yet here he is still doing things like that.

Killian vows to himself to back off and to stay away from her outside of actual work duties and friendly conversation, and that seems to last less than eighteen hours as Emma simply keeps finding him or he keeps finding reasons to talk to her. It doesn’t help that the video that was indeed taken of the two of them dancing has begun circulating throughout the school, and all of Killian’s students bring it up to him, each of them wondering why he and Emma aren’t together.

Life isn’t boxed into pretty pictures and graceful dances, and just because two people move well together does not mean that they are meant to always move in the same direction.

They don’t get it, but he doesn’t expect them to. They’re all teenagers who have experienced little when it comes to love and relationships, and even if they all feel that deep pang of the heart one feels when they are attracted to someone, they don’t understand that this is some kind of pipe dream.

He may sound a little juvenile even thinking that, but it’s the truth.

And their hope and faith in he and Emma being together does nothing to tamper down the feelings still festering in his chest.

The hopelessness he feels makes him wonder if he should take the step forward and tell Emma how he feels. At least then he’ll have the words off of his chest and no longer have the little inkling in his brain that makes him think that there’s hope there. Then again, that’s rather selfish, isn’t it? All that does is let Emma have to walk around with the weight of his feelings on her shoulders, and he can’t do that to her.

For all he knows, she is still dating that guy, and he’s been too much of a coward to ask his students if they know of her going on another date. It’s an invasion of privacy, one he can’t take, so he doesn’t.

January fades into February in the blink of an eye, the chill of a Maine winter somehow getting colder and filled with much more snow, and most outdoor activities get cancelled in favor of spending time indoors, and that’s exactly how he ends up supervising a movie night with none other than Emma Swan.

Life is funny that way.

The common room is full of all of the residents of his dorm, each of them huddled around the projector that Killian’s brought in to watch the new Spiderman movie. The cafeteria provided popcorn and snacks as well as a few cans of soda for everyone to drink, and the excitement of the students is palpable. They don’t get to do things like this too often, especially with the eleventh-grade girls from Emma’s dorm being mixed in with his guys, and he’s happy to let them simply be teenagers.

Just…under a hell of a lot of supervision from their teachers, so not a hell of a lot of freedom.

It’s probably been about fifteen minutes since he seriously had a look around the room, though. He trusts these students, and it’s not as if he can’t see absolutely everything that’s happening. Plus, he’s far too distracted by the way that Emma’s thigh is brushing against his under the blanket that she brought in to combat the chill from the cold stone building they’re in.

She’s relaxed this evening, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail and black-framed glasses perched on her nose, and she has on an oversized white sweater and a pair of leggings, thick socks pulled halfway up her calves. They’re both out of the dress code tonight, as they’re allowed to be, and it’s nice simply to feel normal.

The students aren’t the only ones who are restricted here.

“This movie is so cute,” Emma sighs. “I mean, I remember feeling exactly like that when I was a teenager and had a crush on someone. The overthinking and always trying to find a way to spend time with them or to brush your hand over their forearm.”

“I don’t think that stops when you get older.”

“No, I don’t think it does.” She twists to the side and smiles at him, and the insane creatures that live in his stomach start fluttering. “I think we simply get a little smoother in our actions, but I do think we overthink things a little more.”

“Why’s that, love?”

She shrugs. “We know more. Love is…scarier, I guess. Our hearts have been broken and bruised, and even if we feel the thrill of attraction, it’s dampened by the fear of what happens if the person we want to be with doesn’t want to be with us.”

It’s like she doesn’t even know.

The again, she doesn’t.

“Yeah, true,” he breathes out as his eyes move away from Emma and back up to the screen where the kids are on the plane traveling to Europe. “Then again, you don’t have to worry about that anymore, do you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Killian grits his teeth, his fists clenching beneath the blanket, and he’s almost reckless enough to say something else.

Almost.

Thankfully, though, one of his students asks him if he can turn the volume up on the movie, so he has to rise from his seat and move to the projector to adjust the settings. When he returns to his seat, the conversation is long since forgotten, and he can move on.

He has to move on and put some distance between the two of them.

Emma doesn’t seem to have any inclination to let him because even though he makes a conscious effort to not spend time with her over the next few days, she is still always around. If she’s in the dining hall, he skips a meal. If she’s in the library, he finds somewhere else to make his lesson plans. If she’s in the lobby of the faculty apartments, he turns right back around into the cold even if all he wanted was to go up to his apartment and go to bed.

The only time that he’s safe is when it’s his nights to sleep in the dorms and supervise. She may have been in there for movie nights, but that was simply a one-time thing.

Nothing else will come of it.

At least, that’s what he tells himself until he’s sitting in his classroom entering grades during his planning period, and his door opens before slamming shut behind Emma.

“Swan,” he says in greeting, furrowing his brow together as he takes her in. “What are you doing in here? Do you need something because I – ”

“Why the hell have you been avoiding me?”

“I have not been avoiding you.”

Emma rolls her eyes and steps in closer to him with her arms crossed over her chest, and he’s reminded that he quite fancies her when she’s yelling at him. And when she’s not. It’s an all the time kind of thing. “You have been avoiding me. Every time I see you around campus, you bolt in the other direction. That’s called avoiding, Jones.”

“That’s called coincidence.”

“Well, that’s a lie.”

He minimizes his screen as if that will somehow help the pounding of his heart sounding between his ears. “I can assure you, darling, that it’s not.”

Her jaw ticks, and he can hear the click of the heel on her boot tap against the floor while she looks up at the ceiling. “You know what, fine,” she huffs, uncrossing her arms and slapping her hands against her thighs. “If you’re going to be a dick and avoid me and lie to me instead of telling me what I have done to make you mad, fine. That’s just how it is.”

“I am not angry with you. What could possibly give you that idea?”

“The avoiding me thing.”

“Again, I’m not avoiding you,” he lies as more guilt festers in his stomach.

“You are,” she shouts, only to look behind her and bring her bottom lip between her teeth and quiet her voice to a low hiss. “You are avoiding me, Killian, and I thought we were close enough to be adults about this and actually say what’s going on in our lives.”

“Yeah, like you told me that you were dating someone.”

Oh fuck.

He did not mean to say that.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. Just, leave it alone.”

“I am not going to leave it alone, Killian. I have worked here for three years, and in those three years, I have never gone more than two days without talking to you. It’s been a week and a half, and I want to know what’s going on.”

“Well for fucks sake,” he groans as he stands from his chair and walks toward her, anger and confusion coursing through his body so that his brain doesn’t bloody work anymore. “I was backing off from spending time with you because I couldn’t deal with the fact that I was flirting with you while you had a boyfriend.”

She nearly recoils, but she stands firm. Stubborn lass. “You were flirting with me?”

“That’s what you got out of that?”

“What else am I supposed to get out of it?”

“The bloody boyfriend part, Swan. You have one of those, and it’s not right for me to be blatantly flirting with you and spending time with you when you belong to someone else.”

“First of all,” she starts, holding up a finger, “I do not belong to anyone else. I belong to myself. Second of all, I do not have a boyfriend. I don’t know where you got that idea. And lastly, I wanted you to flirt with me, you dumbass. For someone who is literally the king of innuendos, you surely don’t know how to notice when a woman is interested in you. My God, I was ready to slap the shit of you so many times. I still am right now.”

His brain is broken. Just…it is broken. Because the words Killian is hearing cannot possibly be coming out of Emma’s mouth. They wouldn’t even come out of her mouth in his wildest dreams.

And because he’s an idiot, he doesn’t focus on what he’s supposed to focus on. “I think you have a boyfriend because the students told me you went out on a date.”

“A date? When the hell did I go out on a date?”

“I don’t know. A bloody month ago. I’m sure the two of you are happily in love by now.”

“You are positively daft, aren’t you?” She scoffs and shakes her head from side to side before hiding her face behind her hands. “Like, I cannot believe we’re even having this conversation.”

“You should be able to. You came into my classroom. I didn’t seek you out.”

“And we’re running back in a circle again.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. It means nothing.”

The two of them stand in silence as they stare at each other with the air around them thickening with words unsaid. Killian isn’t sure what’s happening, can’t remember the words that have been said and the words that haven’t, and for what may very well be the first time in his life, he doesn’t know what to say.

Somehow, he has been rendered speechless.

All he knows is that in this entire mess he missed out on one very important sentence.

Emma is going to kill him, probably, and he doesn’t even care. Killian narrows his eyes and sways closer to Emma, very much invading her space as a smile curls on his lips while his heart absolutely hammers within his chest.

“Swan, did you say that you were interested in me?” he teases, and God, her perfume smells fantastic.

“No,” she blatantly lies, “no, I didn’t.”

“You did, though. In all of that mess of a conversation, you said you were interested in me. You wanted me to flirt with you. Love, you have a crush on me.”

“What are you? Sixteen?”

“Thirty-two,” he answers as his hands cup her cheeks and feel the smooth skin under his touch. Her cheeks are warm, nerves and embarrassment and anger obviously causing the flames to ignite beneath her pale skin. “But you already knew that.”

Her eyes flicker up to his, and Killian will never quite be over just how gorgeous they are. Her eyes fill his dreams at night and light up his days.

“Emma?” he whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

There’s a short intake of breath from Emma, and his stomach flips. Despite the circumstances, he expects some kind of rejection from her. He doesn’t expect her to surge up on her toes and press her mouth over his while her hands thread into his hair, but she does.

Emma kisses much like everything else she does. She’s rough, passion being the first thing to burst through, but then once a little work is done, she’s a little more gentle and delicate as the blooming heat between them wells up and bursts so that little sparks of electricity trickle down his entire body and encourage him to pull Emma closer to him while his lips decide to take charge and devour her the way that he has always wanted to.

It’s a funny thing, kissing Emma Swan. A part of Killian is sure that this isn’t real and is all part of some kind of fever dream caused by the below freezing temperatures outside, and yet he knows from the warmth of her body – every inch of it – and the little gasps that she’s letting out that this is very much real.

This is real.

He bites down on her lip to tease her, to make her sigh more, and he’s very much satisfied with the result as a little whimper escapes past her lips and his hips press into hers so that they can get a little friction while his hands fall from her hair to travel down her arms and land on her waist, fingers dipping back into the pockets of her pants so that he can feel the firmness of her ass.

Thinking about taking her back to his apartment and fucking her into the mattress, though, is the exact thing that has him remember that they are standing in his classroom where students could walk in at any second.

It’s why he pulls back, if only just a little. His forehead stays pressed against hers, nose brushing against the skin of her cheek while his eyes finally flutter open to see the smile on Emma’s face.

“So, you were avoiding me because you thought I had a boyfriend?”

“I was an idiot who let the school gossip get to my head.”

Her fingers thump against the back of his head. “It was two dates. He’s a nice guy, but I couldn’t get into it when I have far too much fun flirting with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. Do you want to, um…do you want to come by my apartment tonight?”

“I do,” he answers gleefully, “but I can’t. It’s my night to supervise my dorm.”

“Shit,” she hisses, and he absolutely has to kiss her again for that.

“I’ll call Rob and beg him to take my place, aye?”

“Okay, but don’t let him know why. I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly want any more of my life to be gossip amongst teenagers.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

The bell rings then, a blaring alarm in his ears, and the two of them spring back from each other like they’ve been burned. Emma nearly runs out of his classroom, only leaving him with a sly smile on her kiss swollen lips, and instead of greeting his students at the door, Killian hurries to sit down at his desk and calm himself down so that he can teach this class like he isn’t currently consumed by the fact that the woman he has been pining for actually has feelings for him as well.

And that she wants him to come over tonight.

Robin better pull through for him and pay him back for all of the times that he’s changed shifts with him.

Killian can barely think for the rest of the afternoon. It’s nice that math comes automatically to him and that he can teach without too much thought, but he’d kind of like to think that he’s mature enough to not be completely and totally consumed with thoughts of a woman.

This is obviously not any woman, though. This is a woman who is bloody magnificent in every way imaginable, and all he wants to do is feel the softness of her lips once more.

And as slowly as the day passes, it does pass. He’s got after hours tutoring today as well as a basketball game to attend for at least a little while, but before he knows it, he’s in the boys’ dorms showering the day away and brushing his teeth once more before getting dressed in a pair of jeans and a button down that will not at all keep the cold away from him, especially with the way that he leaves the top few buttons undone.

He doesn’t plan on staying outside for too long anyhow.

Grabbing Emma’s headphones that he has yet to give back to her in the past month, Killian walks out the door of the dorm room faculty stays in when not in their apartments, and begins walking down the hallway to the exit.

“Where are you going, Mr. Jones?”

“I have some errands to run in town, Tyler,” he explains before flashing him a smile. “Mr. Locksley is taking my shift for the night. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask him, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

And then Killian is walking out of there faster than he’s ever walked and stepping out into the cool winter air before quickly dipping back inside the faculty building. He walks through the lobby, saying hello to everyone sitting there, before taking the stairs up to Emma’s apartment. She lives on the floor above him, and when he pokes his head through the hallway door and there’s no one there and no one wandering outside who can see up to the apartments, Killian quickly and quietly makes his way down the hallway before knocking on Emma’s door.

When she opens it, she quickly ushers him inside before he can see that she’s wearing naught but a black robe with her hair cascading down her shoulder in loose waves. She smells like heaven wrapped up in a stick of cinnamon, and had he not been in Emma’s apartment several times before, he’d probably want to take a moment to look around. Instead he holds out her headphones while his eyes flicker down to her chest and the swell of her breast that he can see under the material of her robe.

“You know, Swan,” he teases, purposefully lowering the timber of his voice, “it seems that I have come over to your apartment simply to return your headphones to you, and you are dressed for something else.”

With a roll of her eyes, Emma leans forward and takes the headphones and places them on the table in her entryway before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him back into the apartment. “You see,” she sighs, “I was getting dressed, and I thought to myself how much I really didn’t want to have to put on pants with buttons again. And since we have, like, three years of unresolved feelings that we need to get out tonight, I figured that I’d just save us a step or two by not getting dressed.”

His hands find purchase on her hips, fingers tumbling toward the tie of the robe to undo it, and the little lingering fear in the back of his mind that he’s ruining something really good in his life goes away know that he knows Emma is still able to tease him.

“A man likes to be courted first, you know?” He slips her robe open so that his palm spreads out over the warm skin of her stomach, and it takes everything in him not to let his eyes flicker down to peruse her body. This is very much about what’s physical between them, but it’s also about so much more. “I don’t want you to think that I’m simply going to fall into bed with you.”

“I also have a couch.”

Killian’s laugh rumbles up from his stomach before he’s capturing her lips in a fierce kiss so that the laugh fades away into a growl that rumbles in his groin instead. Yet again, her warmth is bringing him back to life as her kiss lights him aflame. This is everything like their kiss in the classroom, but there’s an undeniable heat to it now that wasn’t there earlier.

The first kiss will always be special, but this means so much more to him because Emma didn’t run away. She’s seeking more of him.

His hand moves up her stomach to run across the lace of her bra, and he smirks into her kiss because he knows that she put this on specifically for him. Emma gasps when his fingers flick the material down so that his hands come into contact with a quickly hardening nipple while his tongue sweeps into her mouth in a warm slide that has every hair on his body standing at attention.

Emma’s tongue is sinful, her body even more so, and Killian is so damn distracted by the way that she feels against him and in his hand that he doesn’t even notice that she’s started to unbutton his shirt until sharp nails are scratching against his skin.

“Eager, are we?” he growls as his lips make a swift detour down her neck to kiss skin he hasn’t gotten a chance to taste yet.

“Are you complaining?”

“You’ll not find me complaining about one moment of tonight.”

Emma chuckles as she cranes her neck to the side so that he can continue to devour her skin. “I don’t believe that for a second. You’re always complaining about something.”

He flicks her peaked bud and scratches his beard along her flesh. “That’s because I didn’t have you in my arms.”

“Cheesy.”

“I’ve heard you like cheese.”

Killian is sure that she rolls her eyes, but he doesn’t see that because he’s kissing her again and trying to back her up to the bedroom. The apartment is the exact same layout as his, so he knows the way down the hallway. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t nearly trip over Emma’s shoes or hit his hip against a hallway table, and they definitely stop against several different walls to continue devouring each other as well as undress the clothes from their bodies.

Though, he does rather wish he could see Emma in black lace for a little longer, but seeing her bare of everything but gooseflesh is much, much better.

She’s stunning with her toned muscles and creamy skin that seems to stretch on for miles, and he tells her so as his lips map her skin, leaving his mark against her while arousal continues to stir within him, his cock hardening at every little gasp and breathy moan that Emma elicits.

This woman has been one of his dearest friends for years now. How did he ever got so lucky to be able to drag the whiskers of his beard across the sensitive skin of her thighs while her fingers grab onto his hair in an attempt to move him to the slick flesh where he knows that she wants him.

She wants him.

Emma Swan is currently writhing on her bed unable to string more than a few words together because she wants him and is incredibly turned on by the things that he’s doing to her body.

Smirking, Killian bites down on Emma’s inner thigh before dragging his nose along her skin and breathing out over her folds before slowly flicking his tongue against her clit. Her grip tightens in his hair while her other hand bunches into the sheets, and Killian is pleasantly surprised by the way that she cants her hips up into him. The attraction between them is undeniable, the passion hard to tamper down, but they are also new to each other. He doesn’t know what makes Emma tick, but he’s extremely eager to learn. Slowly, tenderly, carefully Killian kisses her and shows her just how much that he cares about bringing her the pleasure that she’s finding at his touch.

At her instruction, Killian flattens his tongue and drags it against her once, twice, three times before dipping it into her entrance so that she moans in response. Killian looks up at her then through his eyelashes and sees the crane of Emma’s neck against the expanse of her body, and he smirks into her folds before continuing his efforts to continue to make her writhe. When he slides a finger into her, then another, the moan that Emma lets out is downright dirty, and he can barely breathe when she hooks her ankles around his shoulders and tugs him closer to her while she starts to pant and his own breath gets a little short.

“Like that,” she gasps out, and the sound of her voice goes straight to his straining length that’s pressing into the mattress. “Oh, fuck, just like that.”

It’s the most she’s said in minutes, and he takes the instruction in stride, sucking on her clit and curling his fingers inside of her just like he was until she’s crying out every curse he’s ever known and thrusting her hips into the air while her heels dig into his shoulders. It’s one of the most glorious sights he’s ever seen, and Killian fully intends to spend his entire weekend seeing her make faces similar to that over and over again.

“Glorious,” he promises her as he begins to move up her body, peppering kisses across every inch of skin that he can reach, focusing on her breasts for a few moments before bracing his hands on either side of her head and slowly gliding his mouth over hers, lazily kissing her as she still basks in the glory of her orgasm. “You’re simply glorious.”

Emma sighs as her hand wrap around his neck, and he can still feel her smile in the kiss. “You are not so bad yourself. I think I’m going to have to have you do that again.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“And mine, obviously.”

A chuckle passes through her lips as he kisses her again, swirling his tongue around hers in a dance that resembles their waltz. He’s leading, but Emma is perfectly capable of doing that on her own. He almost wants her to.

And she does when her hand reaches down between him and grabs onto his cock, her touch absolutely electrifying, and he loses any and all sense that he has as he hisses into her shoulder.

“Bloody fuck.”

“You are so British.”

“I never, ah – I never…shit, Swan.”

“You never what?” she teases as her hand continues to move up and down his shaft.

“I never claimed to be otherwise. Do you have condoms?”

“Did you not bring any?”

“I did, but they’re wherever my pants are and I don’t really feel like going to find them.”

Emma laughs, and the sound is as pleasant as it always is, before she’s releasing him and leaning over to her bedside drawer to bring out the foil package. Every bit of him is on edge right now, the ache of not having a release building in the base of his spine, and he nearly loses himself when she rolls the protection down him. It’s all he can do from there to position himself on his knees and take hold of her legs, pushing them back against her chest while he slowly guides himself into her in a thick slide. She’s warm and mesmerizing and every other wonderful adjective that his brain is able to conjure up.

Funny thing, he can’t seem to think of many adjectives right now.

She’s rendered him absolutely speechless once more. The way she feels around him is magnificent, and he could stay slowly rocking with her like this for hours. It’s why, no matter how desperate he is, his pace is deliberately unhurried as the pressure slowly mounts between them. He wants Emma to feel good in this, to find her own bliss once more, and her weak, pleasured cries make him think that she is.

Killian’s hand finds where they’re joined as his eyes do the same, watching himself move in and out of Emma in what has to be one of the most erotic sights he’s ever seen, and her whimpers get louder which each flick of his finger while her moans become more frequent when he shifts over her so that his thrusts can be deeper and the hair on his chest brushes over her nipples while sweat glistens off of Emma’s forehead.

It’s overwhelming, being with her, and this is only the first time. Killian cannot even begin to imagine the road that they have in front of them, but a grin spreads across his lips at simply the thought of it.

This isn’t going to be a one-time thing, and he fully intends on falling in love with Emma.

If he’s not already there.

Emma trembles beneath him as her nails scratch down his back, and the contracting of her walls around him has Killian following soon after Emma and spilling himself inside of her with mangled grunts and groans and a declaration that is so close to love that it causes him to bite down on his own tongue and bury his face in the crook of Emma’s neck while he falls down on top of her, trying not to let his entire weight press onto her body even if the exertion has taken all of the energy out of him.

“So,” Emma mumbles as her nails softly drag across his back instead of scratching into his skin, “as well as you avoiding me seems to have worked out for us to get here, please don’t ever do it again.”

“No, Swan,” Killian laughs, kissing her collarbone before propping himself up and looking at her and the completely disheveled look of her hair, “I don’t think I will. I rather like you too much for that.”

“Good.”

Emma’s stomach rumbles then, this loud, unattractive noise, and Killian rolls off of her with a laugh as he reaches down and removes his condom to tie it up, quickly getting up from the bed to throw it away in the bin. “You hungry, love?”

She sprawls out on the mattress, something he guesses that she’s used to doing, and the goofy, sated smile on her face is one of the most glorious things he’s ever seen.

Killian seems to be thinking that a lot tonight.

“I’m absolutely starving. We worked up quite the appetite. That’s why you have sex before dinner. And then afterward you can talk about ways to improve while stuffing your face with lasagna.”

Killian barks out a laugh as he reaches down to pull up his boxers and toss Emma’s robe at her. “I like the way you think. C’mon, love, let’s go eat. You promised to court me.”

“That I did.”

Nothing really changes between the two of them. Sure, there are kisses exchanged and Killian can take her against the kitchen counter if he wants to (he does want to, and they do fulfill that want), but mostly it’s the same. They still talk and laugh and tease each other until the other gets angry. It’s exactly what he wants, what Emma wants too, and every fear that he has had about them doing this seems to be unfounded.

At least if the first night is any indication.

And the next two nights.

They spend the entire weekend holed away in Emma’s apartment, only leaving so Killian can go down one floor to get his clothes from his own place, and making love to Emma while the snow falls outside and laughter passes between them is a memory that will forever be etched into his mind.

He owes Rob quite possibly the biggest gift basket in the world for taking over his dorm duties.

Eventually Monday does roll around, their weekend between the sheets ending, but there are promises for it to happen again and again and quite possibly as much as possible. Being stuck at a boarding school and living so close together gives them a great chance for dating and figuring this whole thing out.

Secretly, of course. It’s still new and fresh, and Killian doesn’t want anything to come between them until they are settled in this thing.

“Happy Monday,” Killian sighs as he walks into his fifth period Calculus class after lunch Monday morning. All of his classes have been weirdly distracted today, and he’s hoping that this period actually pays attention. “Did everyone have a good weekend?”

There’s a quiet murmur with several answers of yes and a few of no, but then things get oddly quiet when he settles down at his desk and logs into the computer to take attendance. Curious, Killian looks up and sees that every single student is staring at him with absolutely giddy looks on their faces.

“What?” he questions as his brows furrow. They’re still silent with their creepy grins, so he asks again. “What? Someone tell me what’s going on.”

They all seem to look at each other as if they’re debating whether or not to actually tell him what’s on their minds, and a shiver runs down his spine.

Then Caroline Abbott speaks up. “We know that you spent the weekend in Ms. Swan’s apartment. Congratulations! You guys are finally together!”

Killian doesn’t even get a chance to protest, to lie and tell his students that they’re wrong. He doesn’t know how they know, but they do. The rumor mills around here never seem to stop, and this time they certainly didn’t get their facts wrong.

Warmth rushes to his cheeks, blush painting them, and Killian never does get control of his class that day. They’re simply too excited that he and Emma are finally together.

They’ve got to get cable and internet in the dorms. His students should not be this invested in his personal life.

Then again, it’s nice when the entire school hosts a party for he and Emma when they get engaged the next year.

Of course, neither of them has to announce the engagement because somehow everyone already knows.

They’ve really got to get their own place.

#cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs smut #captain swan #captain swan fic

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scotianostra · 5 years ago

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April 4th 1617 saw the death of John Napier, the mathematician.

Best known as the inventor of logarithms Napier is also credited to have made the use of the decimal point in arithmetic and mathematics common. In addition to mathematics, he also had deep interests in astronomy and religion. Napier was born at Merchiston Castle in Edinburgh, which is now in the middle the campus bearing his name of Napier University.

Not much is known about his early life except for the fact that he was the son of a Scottish landowner and official and received a privileged upbringing. As a member of the nobility, he was tutored privately at home for a few years before being sent to St Salvator's College, St Andrews. It was here that he first became deeply interested in theology though he did not acquire in-depth knowledge in mathematics until later.

For reasons unknown, he left the college before earning his degree and it is believed that he moved to some other educational institute for his higher studies. Eventually he began managing his estates and pursued mathematics as a hobby. Among his several contributions to the field, his invention of logarithms is regarded as his greatest.

In 1614 he wrote Mirifici Logarithmorum Canonis Descriptio which contained 90 pages of tables of natural logarithms and also contained theorems in spherical trigonometry known as Napier's Rules of Circular Parts.

Now I can appreciate why these things are necessary in science etc I have to say, I hate maths, don't mistake that with arithmetic, as I am quite adept at counting, the times table and division etc, trigonometry, algebra, logarithms can quite simple GTF.

Our archives at The National Library of Scotland has the original copies of Napiers memoirs, I will give you an example of his work;

L w~^ i/i*<<y*» & -^ '(^»^i<: ,/^V D< '£ Vo6^k -i—, '.t/<C 1 iU'\,^M,«rT ^Wmfcw ^^.*v- zr fi* y$£/& OtvOT" nd- 6«X*Hv fast t^^^mP^^n& JsX f-K-V- y*$P \>>r~4/-Av-~oA tvc) ^<5~"

I mean come on, what kind of sorcery is this?

Which leads me to the final party of this post, John Napier was seen as a devoted and deeply religious family man, but in fact several members of John Napier’s family – respected and wealthy participants of Edinburgh society - were commonly known to be wizards or sorcerers. Their necromantic power was feared by nobles as well as peasants from far and wide.

This was at a time when James VI was actively attending and persecuting many poor people, mainly women, putting them to death after days and weeks of torture, had Napiers family not been landed gentry, they would have been the ideal candidates for these actions, money eh, changes everything.

Was John Napier involved in this? Well there is no proof of it, he was however a free thinker and thought outside the box, a very clever man, two examples of this here, initially caused the witchcraft tag to be be placed on him......

Rumours spread that he was a warlock after he enlisted the help of the cockeral to discover which if his servants had been stealing from him. Each servant was ordered to go into a darkened room and stroke the cockeral - the bird would crow, said Napier, when the guilty servant touched it.

The bird remained silent but Napier stunned the household by immediately identifying the culprit. Surely this was sorcery. But all he had done was put soot on the cockerel's feathers - the innocent servants all had black on their hands, while the guilty one's were clean because he was afraid to touch the bird.

At Merchiston, when pigeons belonging to a neighbouring landowner had been eating Napier's grain, he threatened to restrain them. 'Do so, if you can catch them,' scoffed his neighbour. Next morning, Napier's servants could be seen stuffing hundreds of semi-conscious pigeons into sacks. Onlookers were convinced Napier had bewitched them - in fact he had simply scattered succulent peas soaked in wine to get the birds drunk and incapable.

But before his death Napier had left full details of how his logarithms had been calculated, and had left one final invention as a boon to the merchant classes. Napier's Rods, or Napier's Bones as they were called from the material they were made of, were in effect a powerful "pocket calculator", as seen in the second pic.

Napier was twice married; first, in 1571, to Elizabeth, daughter of Sir James Stirling of Keir, by whom he had a son and a daughter; secondly, to Agnes, daughter of James Chisholm of Cromlix, by whom he had ten children. His eldest son, Archibald, who succeeded him, was raised to the rank of a baron by Charles I., in 1627, under the title of lord Napier, which is still borne by his descendants. A very elaborate life of him was published in 1835.

The third pic is Napier family memorial tablet at St. Giles, Edinburgh,although the memorial is said to have been moved from it's original position on the Kirk.

You can read more of the sorcery claims here https://www.scotsman.com/whats-on/arts-and-entertainment/napiers-wizard-roots-2463821

#Scotland #scottish #mathematics #mathematition #history

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brookelynnsanders · 4 years ago

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The First Fall

A/N so here is a little side rp with @ladyreggiewright - thank you casshew, it was so much fun. again no beta, just me, grammerly and god.

Brooke Lynn's mind has become a hoarding monster over the past weeks. Too much time on her own as she barely passes by someone she knows. Her maids the only steady companions she can rely on, too bad two of them are selectively mute and the other constantly scolds the blonde.

And just like most times in her life, she decides to run away from her problems on the daily. So it's no surprise to find her running through the royal garden blasting upbeat music in her headphones. Focusing on her breathing instead of the burning in her thighs. Until she reaches too deep inside, scratching the core of emptiness again.

Don’t cry, don’t cry. Everything will be alright. The pain in her legs now the only thing keeping her float. So she keeps a steady pace, one step after another. Welcoming the empty paths around her as sweat gathers at the base of her neck. The blonde jogs around a corner Bush, letting her ponytail swing from left to right, while admiring the cherry blossoms adorn the cloud-free sky.

Until the world suddenly falls down.

"Fuck," Brooke groans into the grass beneath her face. Inhaling too many bugs and plant particles for her liking. Her headphones now hanging around her neck instead of fulfilling their purpose.

A voice suddenly appears above her. "Are you... alright?"

Yeah sure, we all know this is a fake garden with a bouncy flooring.

The blonde hastily gets back up into a sitting position, resting on her soles as she removes the grass pieces from her lips and lashes, before dusting of her pink leggings.

"Yes, I am. Just wanted to hug the grass. It seemed lonely," the blonde answers coldly. Already annoyed by the world prior to her stumble.

"I would advise against that for in the future."

Brooke barely focuses on the female voice next to her, to absorbed by all the misfortunes the universe has thrown at her.

"My apologies, it was not my intention to make you... hug the grass as you put it."

With a small sight and a flip of her ponytail, the blonde woman gets up and finally allows herself to take in the owner of the smooth yet slightly confused voice. The girl opposite her has brunette waves covering her shoulders and a stern look on her face. A face that seemed familiar but didn't elicit a certain memory.

"I accept your apology," Brooke states with a smirk on her lips, "What are you doing out here anyway? I rarely see any other selected when I am out on a run."

The gardens always seemed to be lonely once Brooke is on a run. Most ladies probably keeping each other company in the women's room or exploring the palace on their own. Or Brooke just went outside at odd times.

The girl opposite her simply blinks at her, before glancing at her book. Giving Brooke nearly enough time to find constellations in the freckles splattered across her cheeks. "I was reading." Brooke's appearance doesn't go unnoticed either as the girl gives her a brief once-over. "Brooke Lynn Sanders, was it?" A polite smile now gracing her face, lighting up her earlier demeanor.

"Yes. And you are?" Pursed lips and furrowed brows exposing her obvious confusion.

"Regina Wright, but Reggie is fine."

Brooke Lynn takes the her outstretched hand, attempting to use the etiquette lessons she had to endure for some good. "Nice to meet you Regina."

The blue-eyed gaze now resting against the book in Regina's hand, covered in more sticky notes than she could count. "Were you studying or do you passionately cover each book of yours with sticky notes?" She wonders out loud, amused at the sight and clicks her tongue.

"Studying, in fact,” Reggie counters as she rolls her shoulders back, sitting back on the bench with her legs crossed delicately. The picture of a true lady. Glancing at the book beside her with the notes in it. “Just covering them with notes sounds pointless. How has your stay been so far?” An awkward smile on her lips tells Brooke that she might not really care.

So Brooke furrows her brows and brushes over the question and shots back her own. “Why are you studying? Didn't your university extend your studies because of the selection?” Petty drips from her chin. What a poor soul, if that’s really the case.

“And delay them? I don't see why I simply can't do both.” The scoff before the words pour of her mouth and the sudden ignorant demeanor, nose and chin raised high, only add to the sudden dislike overcoming the blonde.

Nevermind.

“Two months of a study break won't kill a career that hasn't even started.” A playful tone in her voice an attempt to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she doesn’t allow herself to rest.

Dark orbs stare into her ocean ones as her counterpart presses her lips together, clearly suppressing her thoughts. Or at least rechoosing them. “Well, it's clear we differ in priorities...”

Blonde bushy brows raise high. Ohhh. So she thinks she is better than all of us for actually studying.

“Well one of us can appreciate when the universe throws a break at her so she won't end up with a burn out at 28.” She might sound like an egghead, but she is a proud egghead.

Regina just flips through the pages of her book, lifting a brow shortly as if she hadn’t properly heard Brooke. But if the blonde wasn’t mistaken she could hear a slight whisper of the word “unachieved”. The smile on the brunette’s lips says otherwise. “I doubt any universe would concern itself with someone's need for a so-called break, but I suppose that's a way to... Make use of an opportunity.”

“Well while we are we can work on our selves and take care of our mental health. Do some yoga, meditate, go on a run, find our chi.” Brooke could go on and on about self-care methods and the benefits those have. But she doubts that Regina would appreciate her lecture so she asks her what she studies instead.

“Political Science.” Her gaze barely lifting from her book. Seemingly waiting for the blonde to depart.

“Political Science... In a monarchy.” Brooke Lynn’s double in size at the mention of the woman’s major. With a small cough, she tries to cover up her disdain but still asks: “Interesting choice. What job opportunities does this major offer?”

”You are not aware of how our country works?” Regina shakes her head, probably already judging the blonde, and begins listing: “There's advisors, multiple political functions within each province, not to mention ambassadors- and if none of those interest you somehow, there's lawyer, political journalist, professor- “

The blonde feels her cheeks heat up as she tries to deflect from her knowledge gap. “Well, that sounds like a diverse field. But wouldn't make it more sense for advisors to be experts in their fields and not experts on politics?”

Yet that only leads to a rub of her counterpart’s forehead and a deep sigh. Yes and no. Yes if you're talking specific advisors, however, they would still need a general knowledge of the procedures and laws. No, if you're talking head advisor of the Monarchy for example, who should have a basic understanding of all things.” Brooke hums, still not completely convinced, but unable to offer better arguments.”I suspect you don't aspire such a career.”

Brooke bops her head before answering. “You are right, I don't. My place is in the natural sciences.”

“What major specifically?” A pinch of condescension in her voice, while her eyes keep her thoughts tightly hidden away.

“Psychology. Aiming for a Master's degree in Neuropsychology.” The blonde throws her ponytail behind her back, refusing to break eye contact.

“That is... actually interesting.” Gotcha. “Yet, you wanted a break from it?”

“I don't want it, I just know that opportunities to solely focus on yourself with a clean slate and barely any distractions are rare. So I'll take it.” And everyone should, she adds mentally. Deep down being concerned about the seemingly overworked woman with a perfectionist nature. “And I already handed in my Bachelor Thesis, so my work is already done.” Not that she needed to defend her mental health break, but she would have spend the coming weeks looking for Master programs anyways. Maybe had helped out in some more projects.

“Interesting. Better than your running capabilities then,” Regina adds with a heartfelt smirk and regally gets up from the metal bench.

A scoff passes Brooke’s lips before speaking up: “I run perfectly without any death traps!” A giggle escaping her lungs involuntarily.

“Little hyperbolic to call my feet that, but alright. “ Thi is the cue for the brunette to grab her sticky notes covered book, hug it to her chest, before straightening her spine even more. “The library has quite some Poli Sci books, so you can... catch up.” A single nod is her goodbye gesture before turning around. Leaving Brooke a bit dumbfounded on her running path.

The blonde mumbles the words “as if I cared enough for a pseudoscience,” before plugging in her headphones and continuing her run. Attempting to forget about this strange encounter. Hoping it was her last.

#Brooke lynn Sanders #side rp #reggie wright #selection oc #((before first date))

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eirian-houpe · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Milah/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold Characters: Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle (Once Upon a Time), Milah (Once Upon a Time), Red Riding Hood | Ruby Additional Tags: Angst, AU, Smut, Accidental Voyeurism, Assault, Extramarital Affairs, Child Neglect, non cursed storybrooke, Teacher-Student Relationship

Summary: Doctor Gold, professor of history at the local campus of Maine University, is stuck in a loveless, and one might say abusive relationship with a wife who is less than attentive to their family, and whom he suspects cares little for her marital vows. His resolve to maintain his own faithfullness is sorely tested by the presence of one of his new students - a junior by the name of Belle French - whom it seems fate is determined to put in his way. The two become embroiled in a passionate, and redemptive relationship, but not before suffering numerous setbacks and separations. This is no instantaneous happy ever after, but a tale of two hurt souls finding their way together through darkness and despair.

Notes: So, see, I told you I was no good at one shots. I was given a smut filled prompt by 'anon' involving an accident with an iPhone and Facetime. This fic is the result. Be patient, it'll be a while. Also if anyone wants to throw prompts at me for the road along the way... feel free - either here or on Tumblr. All are welcome.

[Read on Ao3 here]

Chapter 1 - Gathering Storm

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the back patio for just a second revealing the outdoor furniture, the potted plants on the patio’s edge, and the neat line of bushes beyond that formed a kind of avenue to the grassy area that was surrounded by flower beds. Gold counted silently, barely reaching three before the rolling thunder almost shook the house, and definitely rattled the windows in their frames. It wouldn’t be long before the rain followed, and knowing Storybrooke when it began, it would be persistent and soaking.

With a sigh, he put down his pen on the blotter and not on the assignment he was currently grading, got up, and went in search of his wife on the way through to the back door. He could have forgiven her if she were with Bastion; bathing him or putting him to bed, but Bae was long since sleeping.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, and stopped for a moment in the doorway to the lounge, and watched for a moment as Milah sat with her feet up on the antique couch, with her laptop perched on the coffee table, a plate of cookies balanced on the arm of the couch and a hot cup of coffee - still steaming - held resting against her knee. She was watching some god-awfully inaccurate medieval fantasy romance; complete drivel, and was totally ignoring the world around her - as usual.

“I take it you didn’t hear that oh-so-subtle rumble of thunder that just burst practically on top of the house,” he said sarcastically. “You have been teaching Bae about the weather, right? And how rain is really bad for patio furniture cushions left out in it?”

Milah looked round at him, her expression blank. No, not blank, bored. He raised an eyebrow, and she leaned forward and practically slapped the space bar on the laptop hard enough to drive it thought the coffee table. Gold winced inwardly - sooner or later that was another bill he’d have to pay. Still, he stood silently waiting until his wife threw up her hands.

“Jesus Christ!” she spat at him. “I sit down for five minues and this is what I get?” She started to scoot forward on the couch. “Would it kill you to do something around here every once in a while?”

“Because of course,” he answered, his voice, measured, but his accent thickening as his anger began fuelling his sarcasm. “I’ve nothing else to be doing, like… work or anything.”

“Oh, so we’re going down that road again are we?” Milah rolled her eyes at him, “Fine, I’ll get the fucking cushions in… satisfied?”

She dropped her feet to the floor, and took a breath as she always did, in preparation for getting up, as if it were some kind of difficult task, a monumental effort of some kind. He waited until the moment she prized her arse off of his couch - and yes it was his couch - before he said, “No, no, no. Please don’t get up. I’m downstairs now, and I’m sure I can manage four whole chair cushions without breaking a sweat.”

He turned and started to move away, but then turned back, pointing her way as though he had just remembered something important he needed to tell her, just as she settled back into the couch more comfortably, and was leaning forward toward the space bar, to start her ridiculous show over again.

“There is one thing you can do for me though,” he said mildly, holding his impassive expression as she turned her head to see what it was he wanted. His expression changed then; from mild to the expression that spoke of his unceasing irritation with her as he said, “Keep your fucking feet off the furniture!”

He walked away then, ignoring her spluttering cries of indignation and demands that he shouldn’t dare speak to her that way and headed for the doorway that led out onto the patio.

It had already started to rain by the time he got outside. Huge fat drops that blew about in the gusting wind. He could already tell that it was going to be quite some storm. It didn’t take long before the rain began soaking through his shirt, leaving it sticking to his chest as he wrestled the cushion from the patio chairs into the small shed that was tucked away in the corner of the back yard. Inconspicuous… out of the way. He also took the time to secure some of the loose items in the garden. With the wind as it was, he didn’t want anything blowing around and causing damage to the property, so by the time he made his way inside, he was soaked through to the skin.

He paused in the kitchen, noticing, entirely without surprise that Milah hadn’t bothered to wash the dishes from dinner either. His jaw tightened still further in irritation. Without bothering to do more than roll up his already soaked sleeves, he set about the job himself, and once he was finished, and the dishes drying in the rack, he made his way back up the stairs without a word to Milah.

He still had papers to grade, and it was going to be a very late night. He almost pitied his students. They would have to deal, not only with their own usual Monday blues, but also an exhausted and irritable professor.

Belle lay on her back, propped up on her pillows, listening to the wind and the rain, and the rumbles of thunder. It was distracting her reading; a chapter from the textbook for the history course she had added to her studies on the advice of her guidance counsellor - to give herself another avenue of opportunity after finishing her degree. She didn’t need the extra credits the two year history specialism, in addition to her library sciences major, would grant her, but she had always been interested in ‘how the world ticked’ as she was fond of expressing it, so it seemed the perfect way to answer some of those questions that were lingering in her mind.

Speaking of lingering, questions were not the only things.

She set down the history book, sighing at her lack of concentration, and knowing that at some point before the morning’s lecture she would need to finish the chapter, because heading into a lecture, and certainly the later seminar with Doctor Gold without preparation was an absolute recipe for disaster.

Most of his students either despised or feared him, suffering his classes because they were a requirement for their graduation. Not Belle.

She could never have said when the feelings began, and it had only been scant few weeks since the beginning of the history course brought her into contact with him, but more and more she would notice that her heart would beat more quickly and a certain breathlessness would take a hold of her whenever she was on her way into his lecture hall, and an absolute quivering nervous ache if the day’s schedule brought her to the seminar room for class. She berated herself almost daily. At twenty-one she was far too old for a crush. Crushes were things that happened in high school, not in college… and yet she could not deny the attraction, and the response to his presence that came over her whenever she was near to him.

He was condescending, bordering on rude, sarcastic, and an utter stickler for detail, but Belle found herself wanting to get to know him as much as she could, and longed for him to notice her - even if it wasn’t right.

She sighed softly, denying the heat and the ache that had begun growing between her thighs the longer she thought of Doctor Gold, and reached for her headphones. If she could drown out the sound of the storm - a storm which felt as though it were inside of her as well as out of doors - then perhaps she would be able to concentrate; read the chapter, make notes, and think of questions to ask during Monday’s lecture.

#rumbelle #ouat #fic #au

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ethel--muggs-blog · 5 years ago

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☆ﾟ*・ﾟ┊shannon purser, she/her + 20, cis female┊❝ isn’t « Ethel Muggs » totally tubular looking? they seriously remind me of a character from « Riverdale ». i started seeing them at « Hawk Cinema » a few « months » ago, humming to the tune of « can't fight this feeling + reo speedwagon » when they think no one’s looking. also, they’re like totally known as the « brains » of town, so i’d keep my eye on them. seriously. ❞ (lila, 21, she/her, EST)

howdy howdy! my name’s lila, and I’ll be playing ethel muggs for y’all! I've always had a soft spot for Ethel - she and I have similar body types and similar interests (justice, staying out of the spotlight , dungeons and dragons). I'm a college student working towards a communications degree with minors in theatre and writing, and I write horror on the side. fun fact about me: it took three tries for me to Ethel a song for my application because all of my ideas for songs were released after 1986 and I’m a stickler for sticking to time periods.

so here she is, a girl who deserves better, ethel muggs!

history (tw: death, suicide attempt)

Ethel isn’t proud of a lot of her history. She’s done a lot she regrets: throwing a milkshake in Veronica Lodge’s face, everything that lead to her being in the playbook. But she regrets Gryffons and Gargoyles the most. She’d been in a fragile place: her father had almost died, so many people around her had died or been close to the edge, and she didn’t feel safe. For a time, G&G gave her safety and camaraderie. Then everything changed. She lost herself, hallucinating and giving herself over fully to the game. Her suicide attempt (as much as she’d deluded herself into thinking it was noble, she knew what drinking the poison truly was now) in the bunker is what forced her to realize how far she’d gotten and how badly she needed help. There’d been an attempt to call Betty, Jughead, Archie, anyone, but then an unfamiliar nurse had come in with a cup of water and she’d drunk from it.

Ethel awoke in the Sisters of Quiet Mercy Hawkins National Laboratory, and spent what felt like years there. She became a puppet for the Sisters scientists there, trying to break Betty Cooper once she’d gotten there, too high on Fizzle Rocks and power to stop herself. But then she’d been locked in with the Gargoyle King Mind Flayer and forced to pass through the gates of withdrawal for the first time in what turned out to be a month and a half.

When Betty unlocked the door to the "throne room" Ethel was shaking and sick, but finally sober, conscious, and willing to help for the first time in a long time. Once they’d gotten the other kids out, Ethel tried her best to help Betty keep them safe. She became their mother hen, shepherding them to safe places across town. She only returned home once that work was done, still deeply scarred from all she’d seen and done.

Now she’s picking up the pieces and trying to rebuild herself; make herself better. She’s got a steady job at the local movie theater, she’s going to therapy and taking classes in Library Science out of town. But most importantly, she’s using what she knows to help others.

Ethel just hopes that it’s enough to make up for what she’s done.

headcanons:

I have a whole about page for canon things about her, but here’s some important stuff.

Ethel is Reform Jewish and goes to a synagogue outside of Hawkins.

She speaks three languages: English, conversational Hebrew, and ASL.

She can play the accordion.

Almost everyone her age in town was invited to her bat mitzvah when it happened.

She has a ragdoll cat named Curie.

When she came home for the final time, she burned all of her G&G stuff.

Her favorite job at the movie theater is running the projector.

#1986:intro #suicide #death

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moistwithgender · 6 years ago

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Media Roundup (February 2019)

I wanted to try and squeeze in one last finished show into the last day but I ended up having a really bad sleep schedule hiccup. Anyway, here’s what I finished this month:

Games:

This is actually the shortest list this month, on account of me mostly playing through a single game somewhat slowly. If you follow my posts, you might be able to guess what series it’s a part of.

Super Robot Wars EX (SNES): At the end of the previous post I warned that if you want to get into SRW, SRW2 is an extremely rough starting point, even though it’s canon to the four or five original SRW canon games mostly on the SNES. Thankfully, there is a youtube video that shows you all the dialogue and combat snippets from SRW2. That said... if I wanted to stick hard to canon, I would have either played SRW3 first, or waited for the incoming re-fan-translation that will drop probably at the end of March. BUT, I wanted to play SRW and not jump to a game so far ahead that the mechanics alienate me to the earlier games, so I started EX. EX is largely a contained side story that takes place in and revolving around the original properties of SRW canon. Said original properties involve La Gias, the world that exists inside of planet Earth, and a three-sided war involving mechs that run on magic. There’s a lot of politics and strategic talk and fantasy worldbuilding grounded in fantasy science and it’s actually really fucking cool. They take the time to explain how due to a (magical) scientific phenomena, prophecies are always accurate in La Gias (yet preventable with the right effort), which is exactly the kind of bullshit I love.

However, due to summoning rituals, the setting is also flooded with “Surface Dwellers”, AKA people from different mecha anime who have been written into a melting pot setting that contains all their narratives (sometimes cleverly tweaked to allow and complement each other). This isn’t just a hand wave, but worked into big plot points. It is genuinely stunning how much the creators of these games actually tend to give a shit about making these narratives believable and interesting. I say “believable”, though it’s also worth noting that, as with manipulated inclusion of various IPs, canon is general is somewhat malleable in SRW. There are usually multiple plot options in the games, and EX features a unique system with three separate campaigns that, depending on the order you play them, and also depending on the choices you make and how well you play, change the sequence of events in other campaigns as they weave into each other. It’s not handled amazingly, and to see everything, you may play the campaigns some three times each. I don’t really have that kind of patience, because these early SRW games are also sufficiently challenging games. While not nearly as bullshit as SRW2, EX features a fair amount of incentive to save and reset for better RNG, and you might spend an hour or longer on later maps because situations get really tight. EX is also considered one of the easier early games (phew). Despite that, the maps are almost all really enjoyable, you just have to be willing to work for your victory at times.

The writing, with much credit going to the stellar fan translation imo, is also a compelling read, and dialogue is frequently hilarious despite how much it also focuses on political intrigue and fatal drama. The “hard” campaign (at times equally or less difficult than the “intermediate” campaign) has you playing one of the main series antagonists, whose right hand minions include an oujosama who openly talks about how horny she is, a princess with hardcore stockholm syndrome (or is it?), and a semi incompetent little blue bird as a psychic familiar. A running gag is them chastising each other for using rude words. These characters have apparently been popular enough to reappear even in the modern titles, which largely are self-contained timelines of their own, with their own canonical tweaks.

Last point I want to touch on (this single game just has so much to it) is that playing this game out of order is interesting in how canon is referenced. In most self-contained-stories-in-greater-narratives, you’ll get somewhat forced exposition drops when a character is (re-)introduced. Most of these games so far tend to treat pre-existing characters on the same ground as OCs, where a character doesn’t say, for example “yo I’m goku I come from earth and I’m a super saiyan”, but kind of just realistically reacts to the scenario as per their characterization. If you learn more about them, it’s mostly via seeing them interact with other heroes or villains from their own canon (though later games include library bios to catch you up if you want). While this creates an interesting experience where, if you don’t know a series, you get that curious feeling of walking in on the middle of something, but instead from the beginning. The most interesting aspect of this, and what I consider the defining aspect of the game’s storytelling, is that the same delivery is used with the original characters. From the get-go, the original characters in SRW EX talk about other elements the way real people do, without vaguely audience-oriented exposition. Some people won’t like this, but it makes it feel much more real to me, and complements my recent exploration of the breadth of mecha, where I know a ton of names and have very little context, and slowly accumulate context as I go along. It’s a lot of little micro-mysteries. EX didn’t start this, either. SRW2, which is both the first SRW with a plot or even dialogue, introduces the main OC of SRW, Masaki and his Cybuster, who has a lot of his own lore, and tells almost none of it. You are left for the entirety of SRW2 to only grasp the fringes of what Masaki’s story is, and when he says “hey I’m actually leaving now in the middle of the game because I have my own plot bye” you just deal with that. SRW establishes that the world is way bigger than you, even though the core concept of the series is rooted in fanservice. Now, part of this is that Banpresto and Winkysoft probably had a big MCU-style plan from the beginning (cough most ambitious crossover in history cough), because, well, look at this release timeline and associated narrative chronology:

-Super Robot Wars (Game Boy, April 1991) No plot, or dialogue, but establishes the Big Three (Gundam, Getter, Mazinger) as playable characters and has the kaiju villain from an old 70s Getter+Mazinger crossover movie as the final boss. The pilots don’t exist, the robots are all apparently sentient beings. -The 2nd Super Robot Wars (NES, December 1991) Beginning of plot, introduces a proper antagonist (Bian Zoldak), an antagonist force he leads (Divine Crusaders), light political intrigue, Masaki Andoh and his nemesis Shu Shirakawa are established vaguely while having a separate plot that is not explained. IMAGINE juking your audience with your own main character like that. He doesn’t serve as protagonist yet but is clearly, like, the most important OC? Bian and Shu even serve as the final bosses and you don’t even know who Shu really is. The kaiju villain from before comes back for a single map and evolves into a stronger form unique to the game. The heroes from SRW1 also all acknowledge that SRW1 happened and they know each other. This establishes that you cannot rely on canon. -The 3rd Super Robot Wars (SNES, July 1993) Haven’t played yet but I hear this is where they really started playing with canon. Mixes the Divine Crusaders plot with the plot of the original Gundam series. Multiple endings exist now, and plot regularly splits into dual branches. -Super Robot Wars EX (SNES, March 1994) Here’s where it starts to get complicated. This focuses on Masaki’s setting, while continuing off of SRW3′s plot. Elements introduced here will continue to be referenced in SRW4 (the ending screen even explicitly states that, which reinforces my idea they planned this all years in advance). Multiple campaigns with malleable canon means nothing is concrete ever again. -The 4th Super Robot Wars (SNES, March 1995) Campaign now splits into Super Robot (Getter, Mazinger) and Real Robot (Gundam) routes, which is easier to handle. This game finishes up the “Classic” SRW timeline, but would also canonically be replaced by two remakes on the PS1 (SRW F (1997) and F Final (1998). However... -Super Robot Wars Gaiden: Masoukishin - The Elemental Lords (SNES, March 1996) Masaki gets his own game five years later, beginning his narrative. This game has no mecha IPs, and is exclusively OCs. The most complicated aspect is that this game is split into two chapters: the first, at the start of Masaki’s story, and the second, which... if I have this correct, follows after EX and SRW4. The previous games have, supposedly, been referencing this game that has not existed until now, and this game references what has come before. Playing SRW feels like being lost in linear time. This game starts off its own timeline of games that, I hope, stay confined to the OC-centric games.

So here’s the timeline:

First half of SRW Gaiden SRW2 (loosely referencing SRW1) SRW3 SRW EX SRW4 Second half of SRW Gaiden

As a result...I can never be comfortable writing a suggested order of play. In playing these games, you simply must accept that the world is bigger than you, and at all times you will be an outsider to some degree. You know, until you’ve played all of them. Which you can’t yet, because they aren’t all translated yet.

Phew! That’s a lot of words about Classic Timeline SRW, and I’ve only played through two games. Thanks for reading all of that, I hope it kept your interest. Despite how complicated that got, EX is a great game and easily in my top SNES RPGs now, up there with Live A Live and Dragon Quest V. Let’s move on for god sake!

Oh, right. Almost forgot: (SRW EX: Masaki’s Chapter: Beaten 2/9/19) (SRW EX: (One of the two versions of) Lune’s Chapter: Beaten 2/15/19) (SRW EX: Shu’s Chapter: Beaten 2/20/19)

Fun fact: In EX, if you use a cheat code on the title screen to play through Shu’s route with a suped-up absurd final boss-strength version of his mech, and run into one of the other protagonists, then when you later play as that other protagonist, you’ll have to fight the cheat version of that mech as a boss.

Orbital Paladin Melchior Y (PC): I had to play something else this month, and because I’m trapped in a fugue state, I made it something mecha related. Melchior Y is a small, hour-long visual novel/shoot em up made by John D. Moore, who I know mostly as a_new_duck from the selectbutton.net forums. I’m... not gonna have as many paragraphs to talk about this, or anything, as I did with SRW EX, so if he sees this I hope he doesn’t take that as a negative. Reportedly, this has multiple routes, though as of this writing I’ve only played one of those. I don’t know if that means multiple endings! I liked it for the small gamejam game it is, though. John is an academic and a mecha fan (and did his thesis on mecha, iirc) and so this is reasonably an introspective mecha story focused on children conscripted for space war purely for their utility, and adults who boss them around despite no longer being allowed to pilot once they hit the very beginnings of adulthood. It gets dark! A smaller positive about it is the matter-of-fact inclusion of queer identity, comfortably existing alongside religion without having to immediately make the plot about the conflict between those (at least in the route I played). I enjoyed it, and if you have the patience to explore artier games that aren’t polished AAA cash houses, you might gain something from it too. Here’s a link if you’re curious, it’s currently free.

Anime:

Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai: I already wrote about this last time, oops! Still, despite a couple stumbling points, this is fun character-driven supernatural lit, and if you’re mad at Persona games for bad political takes, then this... at least this doesn’t have those! The funniest thing about the series is that the bunny outfit is easily removable from the plot and barely relevant past the first couple episodes. (13 episodes, finished 2/5/19, Crunchyroll/Hulu)

Punch Line: I actually went in expecting something akin to the sort of wackiness I remember way back when FLCL was fresh. I didn’t get that, necessarily. What I did get was (as I would discover after I wiki’d it later) a fucking Kotaro Uchikoshi story. That’s not a bad thing, but if I had gone in knowing that, I would have been prepared. Uchikoshi writes light novels. Extremely convoluted, mysterious, non-linear light novels. As I was watching this show, I actually thought the whole time “is this a fucking light novel adaptation?” It wasn’t, but it was by the guy who wrote Nine Hours, Nine Persons, Nine Doors (one of my favorite DS games), and Ever17: The Out of Infinity (probably one of the most miserable game experiences I’ve ever had), and I was easily identifying his particular brand of storytelling. There is a LOT that can be said about his style, but I’ll try to keep it short with a paraphrased example (don’t @ me if this doesn’t explicitly describe any one of his plots, it’s close enough). He likes to tell stories that start as quirky or high-concept, but somewhat mundane, skip a scene at one point, and then progress until you suddenly hit a big plot point that turns everything on its head and, in my experiences, causes things to immediately end tragically. Then you see the scene you missed. The scene held a plot point literally so important that it completely changes what the story was ever about. From then on you are fed a trickle of left-field plot twists until eventually the plot is unrecognizable from how it started. His work is as stupid as it is clever, and he’s got the strongest grasp of continuity I’ve ever seen a human being have. This is the polar opposite of SRW’s “fuck canon” philosophy, and that’s not for the worse on either account. Punch Line starts as a story about a boy who dies, becomes a ghost, and then has to figure out... something? (I should clarify I watched all of this overnight while not sleeping as as the story built more and more upon itself I had to fight to keep following it) BUT ALSO, if he sees panties twice, he’ll accidentally destroy the earth. Those details are, like, one percent of the secret plot that the show is built upon, and by the end when the wacky dorm sitcom has become a full blown world war with government conspiracies, I was like “wait why is that girl a superhero again?” Everybody deserves to experience an Uchikoshi story once, just for the wild novelty of it. I don’t think this is his best work (I think 999 is better), but it perfectly exemplifies his style.

Also, I spent the full binge watch (which I rarely do) thinking it was a visual novel adaptation. Absolutely convinced. But, it turns out that, no, he just writes like he’s making a VN game. The “panties = genocide” concept is so obviously a choose-your-own adventure mechanic that I thought it had to be. On the bright side, an actual VN adaptation later came out, and even came out in English on the PS4. And they added in apparently ten episodes’ worth of significant extra plot, so I might play that.

Also, it’s called Punch Line because in Japanese it sounds like “panty line.” That’s it. Also maybe it’s referencing plot twists, or mortality, idk. (12 eps, finished 2/6/19, Crunchyroll/Hulu/HIDIVE)

Mobile Suit Gundam II: Soldiers of Sorrow (Movie): A month later, I finally got around to the rest of Gundam 0079. I think I might like this movie best of the three, even if it does feature a lot of character death is kind of a downer at times (granted, that’s kind of most of Tomino’s work isn’t it). This movie is where most of Kai Shiden’s character development occurs, and it’s nice to see his go from a bastard to a sympathetic, uh, bastard. He’s terrible and my son. (Finished 2/9/19)

Mobile Suit Gundam III: Encounters in Space (Movie): You know I really like the original Gundam in concept, and even execution, but sometimes I’m chewing through it. Even when boiled down to the compilation episodes I’m just pushing through at times. I mean, I think part of that is my burnout and executive dysfunction issues preventing me from fully enjoying things, but it could also just be that I’m baby. This was the movie I liked the least, despite having some of the best moments in the series. The final showdown is genuinely incredible, and there’s probably a lot of essays out there discussing the recurring theme in Gundam of invoking the figure of Newtypes, while also regularly denying being one (even to oneself!) after engaging in a lot of telepathy. My problem with MSG3 is that they packed the most plot points into this one, and it gets to a point where it was hard for me to follow. Mirai goes through two separate love triangles, and a huge tactic (bordering on the severity of a war crime) happens and then is iterated on in such a small amount of time that I actually lost track of who had it and how I was supposed to feel about it. If I were to rewatch it, I might grasp it better. I spent this movie feeling like I should have just watched the 50 odd episodes instead, for the sake of comprehension. Idk! Hate to end this on a negative note, because this series has layered characterization, complex examinations of war, the things people do in war, and the ways that war changes people, and also cool robots. It’s probably something you can revisit multiple times and gain new value from each time. (2/15/19)

Mobile Suit Gundam: The 08th MS Team: Guess who watched this on Adult Swim a long time ago and almost totally forgot! This series is amazing and probably going to stay my favorite Gundam series. The animation is consistently beautiful and consistently had me comparing it stylistically to Cowboy Bebop, from the body language to the lavish mechanical displays to the character writing to the excellent english dub. The US got it ater it was complete, but the original airing of it was spread out over three and a half years, and given how flawless it is, I can understand why. If you’ve have a spot in your heart specifically for watching the switch axe change shape in Monster Hunter, you’re gonna lose it watching them do maintenance in this show. Character-wise, while 0079 was about watching whiny teens complain and break protocol on a regular basis, 08th MS Team is as much about living army life as it is about going on missions. There’s soldier superstition, there’s writing to girlfriends back home, there’s complaining about staking out in the desert for five days. I haven’t watched MASH, but the things I have heard about it make me link the two. 08th MS Team is also about a super unfortunate star-crossed love between people on opposite sides of the war. This plot element is a recurring one even back in 0079, but here it feels the most heart-wrenching, and with the very weighty and believable mech combat (it’s so pretty, good god), I was constantly worried about the well-being of all the characters, Fed and Zeon (except for Ginias). If you have any interest in anything, you have to watch this. I’m not good at selling things.

I watched all of this when Hulu was threatening to remove it, but now it appears to still be up? Uh, so go watch it I guess. Oh fuck, right, I almost forgot. The last episode of this is so bad they didn’t even air it on TV in the US. It’s tangentially related to the plot, claims to be about the main characters but instead centers on two side characters and like six new ones, has zero character development, has comparatively/definitively awful animation, relies entirely on misdirection towards the viewer to keep the plot barely hanging together, and has no satisfying payoff. Thankfully, it’s sort of an omake episode, and you can completely skip it. (12 eps (minus 1), finished 2/20/19, Hulu)

I can’t find a decent HQ poster so have this you filthy animal.

A Place Further Than The Universe: It’s not about robots! Wait. Is it about robo--it’s not about robots! I had heard about this show for a while, it was almost universally agreed upon by everyone that follows seasonal anime to be easily the best show of all of 2018. And wow they were not kidding around about that. APFTTU (oh god that acronym) is about four high school girls who decide to go to Antarctica. It is a feelgood comedy with occasional ventures into very real drama, and is rooted very realistically. The show is semi(?)-educational with the attention it gives to showing how real life expeditions work, while also liberally flowing into the poetry of the concept and experience of such a thing. The four girls are all hilarious and innocent without being cloying and, and this is the most important part, without being written with voyeuristic appeal. It is not off-base to have concern for the ways in which a significant number of female cast anime are written with intent to appeal to lonely men who want to feel a safe ownership of something innocent and attractive. It’s not all of them, but it’s a significant amount. Male gaze exists even in the lesbian shows, it’s something you sometimes have to roll with. Here, however, these girls are fully realized and believable, it is obvious that they are developing people, and that is treated as its own value, not as something to covet. If you’re lookin’ at thighs in here, that is your problem, and I’m calling God. A subplot that comes up involves a guy who gets a crush on one of the older women, and he tries to make it about his narrative and is immediately shot down by the whole cast, because this isn’t a vehicle for his romantic conquest. This isn’t anyone’s romantic conquest, really. It is significant to me to say, “this is an anime I could show to my mom and not be worried about.” I know I just said 08th MS Team was required watching for everyone, but A Place Further Than The Universe is required watching. (13 eps, finished 2/26/19, Crunchyroll)

Giant Gorg: At some point I picked this out to watch on CR without any prompting. Wait, I had one prompt. I knew nothing about this show except I think for seeing it on a short list of tumblr user @lightningclone’s favorite anime. It kind of floors me that this came out a year before Zeta Gundam and has way way better animation. Granted, Zeta has twice the episodes, which might be a big factor. The defining trait of this show is probably way it unravels itself, focusing for multiple episodes on exploring what of the great mystery of Austral Island and Gorg has been established to the audience, before revealing something more an deliberately taking it’s time as it takes you to the next reveal. The reveals don’t feel like twists, because a twist comes out of nowhere and sidelines you. The reveals here feel organic, and expected, but all the same compelling. Another good trait of the show is the characterization. Everyone fits into a very different role both in terms of personality and function, they all have their own motivations, and they all complement each other in unique ways. Also, this show has an Usopp. Back before Usopp was a thing. He’s Dr. Wave, and he’s the best character.

If I have any criticism for the show, it all comes at the end. Near the end a character does a heel turn that, while a little twisty, is hinted in the beginning of the show, and in his heel turn the writers go a bit overboard and have him commit some sexual violence that goes on for an intentionally uncomfortable amount of time, and features frontal nudity. I know we’re supposed to think “oh god he’s a horrible person actually,” but 1) the main character is a child, I kind of expected this to lean family friendly with the occasional dark element (ignoring all the hilarious New York graffiti at the start that says FUCK in several places because America), but... okay! And 2) the stakes rise to a point by the next episode that the characters, including the victim of that violence, all just shrug it off, like whatever! The character is even redeemed by the end, which I wouldn’t mind if the betrayal itself was less physical. It’s a bit much for me, and I wish they hadn’t done it. Aside from that, I feel like the ending itself is a bit anticlimactic, but everything up to these two points had been so solid that I still think it was worth the watch. Worth it if you like mystery, adventure, and big robots, but worth bearing in mind the trigger warning for near the end. (26 eps, finished 2/27/19, Crunchyroll)

Manga:

Shin Mazinger Zero Vols 1-3:

[Serious Content Warning For Everything]

Shin Mazinger Zero is reprehensible garbage and I hate it. While inspired by Go Nagai and intentionally over-the-top, the absurdity is juvenile, offensive, and often just empty. Now, it may seem hypocritical of me to complain about transgression in something based on Nagai’s works, but I genuinely don’t find this transgressive, just extremely self-indulgent of toxic masculine fantasies, both sexual and violent. It has interesting ideas, about how Mazinger is both a tool possible of great good or great evil (literally the mission statement in every Mazinger work), and it wants to explore alternate timelines to see how characters can be corrupted or overcome corruption. The visual of a demonic Mazinger is genuinely pretty rad.

...Okay maybe he’s not, he’s kind of overdesigned. I like the toothy grill, though.

The problem with that exploration of corruption is that sometimes a character is just a horrible monster for no reason, without much explanation (so far?) for how that comes to be. Maybe in volume 4 they’ll get more into that, since they are currently in flashback mode, so there’s no undoing the damage.

Anyway, female characters so far are hypersexualized and submissive or motherly, or hypersexualized and, like, totally unreasonable. The hot robot girl sat on my lap in her underwear and did sex moans, why are you mad, main love interest? Men are testosterone as FUCK. The hero is constantly yelling to the point of visual distortion, no matter how the drama of the scene is being portrayed. The old man villain Dr. Hell is, for some reason, jacked as hell, and in the backstory to the main timeline (it’s all post-apoc) he shows his superiority over everyone by crushing Not Obama’s balls in his grip. I know exactly the kind of dude that would find this appealing and that’s the kind of person I avoid.

Honestly I knew this series was going to be a trashfire from square one and just kept reading out of morbid curiosity. The story starts in media res at the end of the world, with sexy girl robot disintegrating the hero so his soul can go back in time and try the timeline again. Okay, sure, I’m on board. Immediately next we’re shown what I would assume is The One Timeline To Get It Right, after establishing that there have been thousands of timelines where the hero is corrupted by evil. Pretty normal storytelling. And then, uh, the hero’s grandfather molests and murders the hero’s girlfriend, because the hero might become evil. My face is in my hands at this point. The incomprehensible shame. The hero is then corrupted and goes on a killing spree and humanity’s caught in the crossfire and the world ends. After *that* we get the One Timeline. Why? Why say things have always been bad (and I guess imply that bad things are the default) and then waste my time with the worst shock value trash that comes after for a full volume before actually starting the story? It’s edgy garbage! Why is this an official Mazinger work? Stuff like this is what makes me stop and think “wait are all Nagai’s works like this and I’ve been lying to myself when I like it?” Christ, this turned into a rant. Moving on.

[Content Warning Over]

Dumbbell Nan-Kilo Moteru? Vol 1: Idk if talking about horny manga after that mental breakdown is gonna make me look weird but hear me out.

Hot girls lifting weights.

You still here? Okay, good. I started this on a mutual’s recommendation and while it’s not regularly engaging with my own things (I’m more of a “watching fit woman deadlift and hoping she drops it on me and I disintegrate like so many dead leaves” person), and with the two main girls being high schoolers, I try to avoid engaging with that in that way. Luckily, there’s a teacher my age with a bob cut, so we’re good! More interesting, though, this is in the same genre as that Skullface Bookseller Honda-san anime (though less biographical), where the author just wants to explain their job or hobby while also using likable comedy characters as the vehicle. Anime made edutainment work.

I’m starting to get tired and I wanna wrap this up but unfortunately I have a bit to talk about regarding the last manga I read in Feb.

Tokyo Ghoul Vols 10-12: I’ve been reading this for the past, uh. I read it a lot last year, I don’t know when I started, though. Around 8 books in I started slowing down and taking long breaks because phew! I’d hit the end of the series’ big bad story arc and was having trouble picking up from there. I’m glad I did, though, because the story is still getting good. Here’s hoping I can handle the sequel series, because Tokyo Ghoul itself only has two books to go.

I’ve talked about TG a few times before, maybe just on Twitter. It’s very intelligent “vampire” lit that ramps up the stakes of transition by saying “you can’t just suck their blood and let them go! Human meat is your food and you’ll suffer without it.” At first, I was like “oh wow lol this is edgy” but the last twelve books have talked about trauma, alienation, and most importantly loss of innocence. It’s also about the importance of the bonds between people. The main character is perpetually at odds with himself, trying to be a good person in spite of the fact that being a ghoul is literally and figuratively being a monster. It could easily be an overwrought story of self-indulgence and angst but everything in it has been careful and effective. Ghoul culture is thoroughly built up and balances concepts of territory and posture along with careful deception for the purpose of staying a part of, and hiding from, human culture. It’s about predators who cannot remove themselves from their predatory nature, even if they want to be people with families and educations. There’s an organization that wears white and hunts ghouls with weapons crafted from ghoul bodies and functionally I can’t fully argue with them, sort of, but hey we’re starting to discover that corporations are corrupt (who knew?) and that’ll be fun.

But forget the poetry and human condition, the best thing this series does is that unashamedly works the Hot Topic aesthetic. The main character likes reading books and wears an eyepatch to hide his heterochromia and works as a barista. He wears a mask that evokes an S&M lifestyle. Ghouls can only eat people and all other food taste rotten. Except for black coffee. There’s also a number of ghouls with black nails and eyeshadow, and very heavily coded queer male characters (some more flatteringly portrayed than others but that’s a whole other thing). If Sui Ishida never listened to Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge, I’ll eat my fucking feet.

@sun-eater-official I think this might be up your alley. Or maybe not! But these aesthetics sound like you. Actually, you should probably watch 08th MS Team too, for the Bebop vibes.

So that’s everything! I thought I had a short list but apparently it was all things I had a lot to say about. Again, if you read all of this, thanks a lot, I hope I end up introducing you to a new favorite. In the future, I may have to split these into separate posts for each category. I have a lot of free time to write these lately. Writing two roundup posts back to back is a bit tiring, but I don’t have to do another until April starts.

#curry plays games #curry reads manga #curry watches anime

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surveys-at-your-service · 6 years ago

Text

Survey #204

“welcome to the gospel of dismay.”

Have you ever started reading a book and wondered if you’d read it before? I don't believe so. What has been bothering you a lot lately? Just job stuff... My VR coach and I are having difficulty finding something suitable for me (or something I'm even qualified for) to the point it's looking like I have no choice but to reach out of my comfort zone quite a bit. Thankfully, whatever I do, she goes to work with me and my case isn't closed until I feel totally comfortable at the job, but I just don't want to hop around five times until I find something that fits. I'm just ready to be settled into a job that's not torture for me. What (or who) have you been missing lately? I've been missing Sara really, really badly. My friend Alex, too. It's seemed lately that I only matter when she wants to talk, solely about her boyfriend. As for what, motivation... It's been running low low low lately. Miss having the drive to write like I used to. Miss hobbies. I miss doing things. Are you trustworthy? Yes. Did your parents teach that white lies were ok? In few situations, such as not to hurt other's feelings. Have you ever hallucinated? When coming off of a medication, yes. I saw moving shadows. Do you sleep with your door open or closed? Open. Roman would neeeever let me sleep with it closed, but even then, I prefer not to have it closed. My mom sleeps right outside my room on the couch, and even though we're sleeping, it gives me a natural sense of security to be able to see her. I'm such an infant. By God, do I need to loosen up on my attachment to her. What flags do you have in your room, if any? None. What (or who) is the best thing that ever happened to you? Recovery is the best thing, as for who, Sara. Although in some ways you could say Jason just because of how he changed me to an incredible degree and brought about the development of a lot of strength and less naivety, plus a LOT of self-discovery. I guess it depends on how you look at the question. What is the worst decision you ever made? Essentially turning Jason into a god. Letting my life depend on him loving me. Do you miss college? Jfc, I miss school PERIOD. I don't need to give the sob story about how I'm like a prisoner to my house again and how I don't really have friends. I miss having a purpose, and I neeeeed to be exposed to strangers again for social exercise, as well as hopefully to make friends. I just want something to do and work towards my career. I stg my fucking old college better get their shit together so I can go next semester. I will actually lose my shit otherwise. Have you ever called a teacher “mom”? I think I have by accident before. I still call an old teacher that's now a family friend "2nd Mom" sometimes. What is your favorite arcade game? Idk what are "normal" ones. Oh, well, do crane machines count? So rigged, but they're fun. Do you feel neglected? No, for the most part. Those most important in my life are doing everything to make sure I can handle the "real" world one day. What school subject(s) are/were your best? English, art, and science. Are you allergic to grass? No. Do you remember to water plants? I don't have any. What season is your birthday in? Winter. Name 3 creative people you know. Sara, Connie, and Emma to name just a few. Name 3 YouTubers you aspire to be like. Markiplier for work ethic, creativity, compassion, wisdom, determination, etc. etc. etfuckingc., Shane Dawson for kindness, aaaaand uhhhh Arin Hanson for how down-to-earth and chill he is behind his goofy exterior. What color was your first car? Haven't had my first one yet. What year did you graduate? 2014. When was the last time you saw the person you currently have feelings for? Not since early February. Have you ever been scammed? Ummmm idk, maybe? Are you allergic to pollen? Yes. What style of wedding dress do you like best? Ballgown. Are you over your first love? Yes. Do you talk on the phone a lot? No. Would you rather call or text? Text, big time. Do you always answer your phone? Most times. When was the last time you went to a party? Nicole didn't really have a "party," nor did Sara, so technically my nephew's birthday in August. What was the last thing you ate? A bagel. What’s the last book you checked out from the library? I couldn't tell you. Do you have a twitter? Yeah, but I post nothing. It only exists to like Mark's shit lmao. If so, what was the last thing you tweeted? ^ Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? My mom. What’s the last thing you cooked on the stove? Scrambled eggs eons ago. What color is the cover of the last notebook you used? Hot pink. Who was the last person you know to have a birthday? Alex. Who sent the last e-mail you got? Mad Ethel's tattoo parlor. I was talking with them about enhancing my tat I got in tribute to Mark; I don't think it looks spacey enough at all, so I'm going to a more professional artist. I mean I like what it is now, but I want to love it. I got a price estimate, aaand it's probably gonna be a while. What song is currently stuck in your head? "Legs Up" by Jeffree Star bye I'mma go jump off a bridge. Do you have a favorite shape? Of basic shapes, circles. What color are the sheets on your bed? White, which I hate; between Roman and Teddy, you can tell it needs to be changed desperately. What time do you usually go to bed? It can range from very rarely as early as 7:00 (I have to be having a baaaaad day) to as late as midnight. Yeah. Do you ever use coloring books? Not anymore. Are you planning on watching the Olympics? I never do. Do you pronounce the word "often" with or without a "t" in the middle? With. Have you ever been on a trapeze? No. Do you enjoy popping bubble wrap? Omfg GIMME. Are there any waterfalls near where you live? No. Do you like seafood? No, solely shrimp prepared in certain ways. Have you ever had to wear a uniform for anything? In middle school. Then at my two jobs. If so, what did it look like? Middle school was khaki pants with plain tops of only certain colors, like white or light blue (those may have been the only options, even). I don't remember the work ones, I was there so briefly. Do you personally know anyone who is an author? No. Do you own a Polaroid camera? No. Do you enjoy baking? I don't enjoy cooking period. What’s your favorite type of flower? Orchids. Last time (if ever) you were on an airplane, where were you going? Back home from Illinois. Do you know anyone who is left-handed? Sara. What is something you think is underrated? Hm. Probably certain shows or movies that aren't coming to mind. Ah, "The Cat in the Hat" with Mike Myers is certainly one for me. It's such a meme that it's awful, but I love that movie. Around what temperature do you consider it to be too hot outside? Like 65*F. In what ways do you expect your life to be different one year from now? I BETTER have a stable job. How often do you travel outside of the state/province you live in? Not often at all. What’s a hobby you used to have, but don’t anymore? Sigh, reading. That hobby died at the hospital, when all I had to do was read and color all day every day because the mental institutions here are godawful. I really do miss reading. What has been your favorite job you’ve had so far? Ha. What’s your favorite kind of salsa/dip to go with tortilla chips? Just the normal spicy kind. Do you wash your car by hand or drive through a car wash? I don’t have a car. Where is the farthest north you’ve traveled to? Michigan. Farthest south? Florida. East? Well, here in NC. West? Illinois. How often do you run the dishwasher? We don't have one. Do you wash your face at the sink or in the shower? Sink. Name a stereotype about your gender that you don’t fit. I have no desire for kids, I hate shopping, I have no interest in fashion... Name a stereotype about your age that you don’t fit. I still don't want kids/don't have any kids. Do you have any unusual decorations in your home? Not really, but I suppose you could say my late grampa's old "cowboy" hat with feather tassels hanging on the wall is? It's aaaalways been on the walls in all our houses. Do you have any uncommon kitchen appliances, such as espresso machines, waffle irons, etc? I dunno. I don't use any. What did your parents major/minor in in college, if they went? Mom majors in social work; Dad never went. Has either of their careers influenced what career you chose or want to pursue? No. What is the highest level math class you’ve completed? I don't remember. How old were you when you learned how to ride a bike? Idr. How old were you when you learned how to swim? Again, idr. How do you react when someone is rude to you? I get really embarrassed for whatever reason and also verbally impulsive; you don't know what's gonna come out of my mouth. Have you ever had a friend who was too clingy? No, but then again, I don't know if "too clingy" exists for me. What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? Hurricanes. Why is your least favorite season your least favorite? It's too goddamn hot and humid as FUCK and all the insects are out. Do you have a Netflix account? Yes. Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? No. Where is your favorite place to go on vacation? Honestly, I can't even tell you. I've been on so, so few vacations, and those I have are almost exclusively to the beach, which I don't like. How long does it take to get there? The beach is ~2+ hours depending on which one we're going to. When was the last time you started a “new chapter” of your life? When I fully let Jason go, I guess. I don't think I've had a massive change since then. What room in your home do you spend the least amount of time in? I never go into my sister's old room. What is the last random act of kindness you did? Don't drag me for playing WoW please okay. But anyway me and another player were heading to an old raid, and I flew to the spawn point of an incredibly rare mob that drops a mount to see if it was up; he was, and the guy was super thankful I checked for him (I already had it, so it wasn't for my own benefit). Do you do anything to reduce the amount of electricity you use? I do the opposite, really... as much as I hate that. I learned to finally keep the lights on in the room I'm in to combat depression, and after finding that it truly works well (if you have depression, seriously, LIGHT THAT ROOM UP), if it's even SLIGHTLY darker without it, that ceiling light's going on. Then at night, Mom likes me to keep the living room light on so it looks like more people are home (it's for safety). Are you usually open to trying a new food that you aren’t familiar with? Nooooooo. Do you listen to Panic! At The Disco? I LAAAAAAAAAHV them! Have you ever had a kinky dream about a celebrity? "I’ve had sex dreams but they weren’t kinky." <<<<<<<<<< Is there a song you can’t stop listening to atm? I have been craaaazy about Caleb Hyles covers lately. Has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you couldn’t say it back? Yes. That's when I finally ended the "thing" with Joel, I think. If your Facebook status doesn’t get any likes/comments, does it bother you? If it's something I actually wrote instead of something I shared (which is almost exclusively what I do), I get really self-conscious and automatically embarrassed because my head screams "NOBODY CARES." Which friend do you confide in most? Easily Sara. Do you wear a cross? No. What is your opinion on Arby's? Ew. When you have your own kitchen, how will it be done? I don't know. Haven't really thought about it, and besides, I think it'd depend on the layout. What is your favorite doughnut? Glazed. Closely followed by classic/cake. Do you have a hot tub? If so, where is it located? HA bitch we're poor. Did you read the Twilight series, or jump on the bandwagon after the movie? Didn't read the books or watch the movies. What is your favorite party game? Mario Kart. Do you or your parents rake your yard? No. Were you pro-Obama? I was indifferent considering I didn't know enough about him. What is your favorite scent from Bath & Body Works? *shrugs* What was the last illegal thing you did? Downloaded music. Who did you last go to the movies with? Ummm... Mom, I think? What color was the last vehicle you were in? White. Do you have any family members in the military right now? No. Is there a ceiling fan in the room you’re in? No. When was the last time you wished time would move faster? Like... every day for a long, long time now. I just want to have a job or be in school. I want to make progress towards a successful future. I know that's an extremely unhealthy desire to want to zoom through each day, but it's hard to cherish every, identical day lately. Are there any owls in your room (as decor, of course)? No. Have you ever heard voices? Audibly? I don't think so. Do you believe in angels and demons? I don't really know. I know there's life after death, but like, I don't know if your soul is "categorized." Who is the worst neighbor you have ever had? I can't really get into that as I don't know the full story... Dad was good friends with them, but Mom got along with them too, and came divorce time, they turned evil to Mom. I don't know things that were said. Did your Barbies go on dates? I don't remember. If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? Sara. She's the one who talked me through the revelation. Where did you meet your first crush? We went to the same school. Do you remember the first time your first crush ever said hi to you? No. Do you ever go places with wet hair? Yeah. Who is your favorite little girl? My niece. What do you want the most in life? Happiness. What is a decision you’ve made that changed your entire life? Letting Jason become everything. Do you ever wonder what kind of person you’d have turned out to be if a certain event never happened to you? I wonder quite a bit who I'd be if the breakup never happened. When you’re home alone, do you still shower with the bathroom door closed? No. Even when someone is home, I keep it cracked so it doesn't get so humid. If you could have anyone’s singing voice, whose would you choose? Uhhhhh would any female not choose Amy Lee. What are your top 3 favorite genres of music? Metal, rock, indie. Where did you buy your dishes from? I have NO idea. We've had the same fancy-ish dishes my entire life. Do you think Mars will be colonized in your lifetime? In my lifetime, no. What’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought that turned out to be a waste of money? I have no clue. What’s something you’ve bought that turned out to be way more useful than you anticipated? I also don't know. Have you ever been on a ship? No, just boats. Do you ever take intentional breaks from checking/posting on social media? No. Who was Van Halen’s better singer - David Lee Roth, or Sammy Hagar? David. Which fictional character has the most memorable quotes? I'd have to think way too long on this. ACTUALLY. Maybe the Cheshire cat, off the top of my head. What’s a class you did not take in school, but now wish you had? None. Have you ever been to either of your parents’ workplaces? Yeah. What do you think of the ‘Healthy At Every Size’ movement/philosophy? ACTUALLY fuck off. Coming from someone who is overweight, get out of here with that shit. Don't normalize an unhealthy body. Have you ever been bitten so hard that their teeth marks were there after? Uh, other than in a sexual context, I don't think so, no. WAIT NO I bit my sister's back so hard as a kid that she bled, so probably. Ever been given a hickey? (Love bite) Well read above. Ever gave one? Yeah. Are you more of an outgoing type or shy type? I'm shy as fuck. Do you think it's weird if guys wear make-up like eyeliner? If you do think it is, I want nothing to do with your ass. It's 2019. Are you self conscious? If so what are you self conscious about? More than words can explain. My awkwardness, stuttering, lack of comfort with eye contact, and my body. Are you flirty at all? In certain instances with an s/o. Are you racist at all? No. Would you ever date a disabled person? (Be honest) It depends on the disability. With my own issues, I need to be able to handle theirs. If you found a baby randomly by itself what would you do? Call the police. Would you rather adopt or have your own child? If I was to have kids, I'd rather them be my own or wife's if I'm with a woman. But again, I don't want kids period. What would you class as cheating on someone? As soon as you're hiding shit regarding another person from your partner. Do you try to be politically correct? Only to a certain degree. What’s your favorite kind of sea critter? That's hard. I love seahorses, sea turtles, jellyfish, dolphins, whales... Have you ever tasted locally-made honey before? I don't think so. As far as earrings go, would you rather wear hoops or studs? Studs. Do you find P.E. humiliating, or think schools shouldn’t teach it? It wasn't humiliating, at least back then when I had a healthy body. I have mixed emotions about its mandatory status... Like, exercise should absolutely be encouraged, but P.E. classes tend to be entirely inflexible in regards to accommodating different people's limits and conditions. Do you recycle? Sadly no. We have to drive to the dump in order to, and Mom got tired of it. Are you interested in current world issues? Not even nearly as much as I should. Do you think you are mature, or immature? It depends on the situation. What kind of career are you interested in? It'd be great if I could survive just off of photography, but odds are I won't be able to. So I'm trying to go back to college and major in zoology to be an out-on-the-field zoologist. Do you own a pair of sunglasses? No. Do you use bobby pins, hair clips, or elastic hair ties? Which? None; my hair is really short. When it was long, I used hair ties. How badly do you get acne? (If at all) I don't anymore, just the occasional pimple usually around that time of the month. What’s the best way to cope with a breakup? YOU ARE ASKING THE WRONG PERSON. If someone dislikes you, what is most likely to be the reason? For those who don't know me thoroughly, I wouldn't be even remotely surprised if someone thought I was a lazy freeloader going nowhere. I feel like most people think that anyway because I'm going through hell to get a job, don't have friends, and am not back in school yet. How many text messages do you have in your inbox atm? No unread ones. When was the last time you had a difficult decision to make? Last week or so when I deeply debated on whether or not to get rid of Kaiju (my juvenile don't-touch-me iguana). In school, what subjects do/did you find the most difficult? Math and economics. Do you still speak to the person you had your first kiss with? No. Where did you meet the last person you swapped numbers with? I believe that was my VR coach? Who was the last person to add you as a friend on Facebook? My old high school friend Robert. This dude's working at NASA while I'm at home every day at my laptop. I'm an adult. Who was the last person that asked if you were okay? My mom. What does your handwriting look like? It's a mix of (mostly) cursive and print, and I'm usually told it's "too" fancy and hard to read. Do you use any products on your hair, other than shampoo and conditioner? No. Who were your best friends in primary school? Brianna, Kim, and Quiata. Do you still speak to any of them? No. What was the last thing you bought from a vending machine? Probably a drink. I don't remember the last time I used one. What color hair did your first crush have? Brown. What type of shoes do you find the most comfortable? Maybe Vans? Are you more masculine or feminine? Idk. If you could design your own mug, what would you put on it? Idk. Rainbow meerkat pawprints going up in a spiral around the cup? First thing that came to mind. What is the best beach you’ve been to? I've only been to two (I think), and I don't care enough about beaches or remember well enough to answer this. What is one thing you physically can’t do? There is no way in Heaven or Hell I could clean up vomit without hurling myself. Have you ever been to a funeral? Yes. Have you ever visited your state’s capitol building? No. Have you ever visited your nation’s capitol building? No. Do/did you have a favorite seat in church? No. What is your favorite park? Disney World, of course. Have you ever felt an earthquake? No. Do you chew gum regularly? No. Where did you go on your first train ride? N/A Do you know anyone with a dual citizenship? Most likely. What sports teams do you root for, if any? (Extra points for Boston fans.) None, really. I grew up automatically biased to the Carolina Hurricanes in hockey thanks to Dad, but I don't actually care. Do you dunk your cookies in milk? Oreos, preferably. Others, sometimes. What is something you are confident about? My knowledge of meerkats. Have you ever been physically addicted to a substance? What? I don't really know if this "counts" as it was the product of severe anxiety over vomiting, but in middle school, I would constantly think I was going to be sick and took one Peptobismol literally everyday at school, usually in I think second period when my anxiety was bad enough. It finally ended when we ran out and I had to go without it and I saw I was okay. I was so happy when that shit ended. How do you feel about needles? Eh. The feeling is obviously unpleasant, but they don't bother me much; not at all for tattoos. Getting shots or blood drawn is a bit more "ew" because of the needle's length. But anyway, in general, needles are okay. What is your favorite accent to listen to? Maybe French for women, British for men. Or British for both, idk. What was the reason you last got dressed up? Went job hunting with my VR coach. Have you ever been the subject of cruel rumors? Not really cruel, no. ^ What were they? N/A Do you prefer loose or form-fitting clothing? A bit loose. ^ What about on your preferred gender? I like both men and women, so. I tend to like more form-fitting on women and looser on men. Maybe. Idk actually. But pants. Give me skinny jeans on everyone. What do you do when you are really, really mad? Be WAY too impulsive about what comes out of my mouth. And I cry. Would you rather go naked than wear fur? Omfg don't do this. I guess wear fur. I hate my body too much. But I'd feel absolutely godawful. Do you put a line through your 7's? Yes. ^ What about your Z's? Yes. What is one thing that someone could do to you that is unforgivable? More than anything else, rape. Are you able to forgive and forget? It's rare I'm unable to forgive, but forget? Nope. Do you like cold pizza? Yeah. What is your favorite fruit? Strawberries. Kiwi, too. What about your favorite fruit juice, if it differs from solid fruit? Peach/mango mix. Do you like broccoli and cheese? Oh my god in Heaven, yes. What about potatoes and cheese? Yeah. Have you written a letter by hand, lately? To whom? Not lately. Toaster or toaster oven? I've only ever had a toaster oven. I like how you can see if something is starting to burn, anyway. What are you most known for? Likes meerkats more than she likes 99% of the human population. I keep my worship of Mark Fischfuckface on the down low irl so meerkats win overall. Do you have any reputations? What are they? I don't think so. Do you wear band shirts? Yeah. ^ What band was on the last one you wore? Uh... shit. I think Metallica? It's rare I have to put on "real" clothes now (yes, I stay in pjs all day bc I never leave the house), so idrk. Do you own any hats? Describe them. No. What about masks, you got any? Describe those. No. What was the last thing to leave you speechless? Watching the spire of the Cathedral collapse yesterday. That whole thing broke my heart. I know the serious valuables were saved, but still, there was so much damage to 800 years of incredible art and history. Do your parents like your friends? If they don’t, why not? I have like... one irl, serious friend. They both love him. Have you been called a bad influence? Yes. As if she wasn't an awful one. Describe your favorite pair of socks. They're covered in meerkats. :'D Thanks, big sister. Have you experienced any life-changing news, events, etc, lately? No. Have any self-done piercings? No, not doing that shit. I'm too serious about piercings being done well and in the most hygienic manner. Ever pierced someone else? No, for the same reasons as above. Do you get distracted easily? Holy shit, yes. Is talking to strangers enjoyable for you, or stressful? It's anxiety-inducing as hell. How do you feel about getting new neighbors? Idc. How many ceiling fans are in your home? None. Do you tweet your life away? I don't use it. How do you feel about shameless self promoting? Ever since actually trying to get out in the freelance photography world, I get it, as uncomfortable as it is. HOWEVER, there are absolutely places where doing it is inappropriate. When reading words. like. this. do. you always pause after the periods? Yeah. What about screaming when reading something IN ALL CAPS? Yeah.

#survey #quiz #questions #random

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tariqk · 7 years ago

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Thinking about Lisp, software development and collaboration.

So like I've been reading a lot of Paul Graham's On Lisp, and Doug Hoyte's Let Over Lambda, and it's been... interesting.

Cut to spare the timeline.

Like, I don't pretend that I understand these works completely, or that I have anything more than a semi-functional understanding of Lisp — most of my work on Lisps have been on Emacs Lisp, which is really showing it's age, and I've honestly never touched macros in any reasonable level, because honestly speaking macros have a frightening reputation. Thanks to Graham and Hoyte's walkthrough of some of the concepts, though, I think my understanding's a little better, though it can only be tested if I can implement stuff on Common Lisp, if that day ever comes.

What struck me about the commentary was that, well, how much both Hoyte and Graham are fans of the language, and how they often extol its virtues. To both of them, Lisp is something that transcends other languages, that allow programmers to do things that are closer to the problem domain than anything else that people have made. That, when you make a programming language approach the kind of power, extensibility and flexibility that Lisp does, surprise! You've made another flavor of Lisp.

This is a seriously grand claim, but I kept being bugged by one question:

If Lisp Was So Good, Why Isn't It Used More Often?

Like, seriously, I kept reading these claims, and to some degree I could see them backing these claims with examples... and yet if you look at Common Lisp and Scheme projects on the Internet... they're like... scattered and fragmented. You can code, and most importantly, an overwhelming number of people do, from the beginning to the end, full-stack web applications in JavaScript. Lua gets used in everything from window managers to video games customization to desktop widgets. Python's still prevalent in web development to data sciences, and yes, some video games are customized in Python. Like, Ruby was everywhere for a while before it receded.

Like the only exceptions to this are, I guess, Emacs Lisp, which basically sticks with Emacs, and Clojure, which is tied to the JVM, and ClojureScript, which outputs JavaScript. Note how reliant they are on other software and frameworks.

The Answers I've Seen So Far

So, what gives? Like, I've been looking around, and I've seen basically two answers:

Lisp Isn't Popular Because People Are Stupid

No, seriously. This is the argument. Paul Graham engages in it:

People frightened by Lisp make up other reasons for not using it. The standard excuse, back when C was the default language, was that Lisp was too slow. Now that Lisp dialects are among the faster languages available, that excuse has gone away. Now the standard excuse is openly circular: that other languages are more popular.

(Beware of such reasoning. It gets you Windows.)

Popularity is always self-perpetuating, but it's especially so in programming languages. More libraries get written for popular languages, which makes them still more popular. Programs often have to work with existing programs, and this is easier if they're written in the same language, so languages spread from program to program like a virus. And managers prefer popular languages, because they give them more leverage over developers, who can more easily be replaced.

Hoyt engages in this, as well:

Macros have, not by accident, almost as much history as lisp itself, being invented in 1963 by Timothy Hart[MACRO-DEFINITIONS]. However, macros are still not used to the fullest possible extent by most lisp programmers and are not used at all by all other programmers. This has always been a conundrum for advanced lispers. Since macros are so great, why doesn't everybody use them all the time? While it's true that the smartest, most determined programmers always end up at lisp macros, few start their programming careers there. Understanding why macros are so great requires understanding what lisp has that other languages don't. It requires an understanding of other, less powerful languages. Sadly, most programmers lose the will to learn after they have mastered a few other languages and never make it close to understanding what a macro is or how to take advantage of one. But the top percentile of programmers in any language are always forced to learn some sort of way to write programs that write programs: macros. Because it is the best language for writing macros, the smartest and most determined and most curious programmers always end up at lisp.

I mean, the argument is pretty clear: because Lisp is so powerful, and that it takes so much study and effort to work at it, that only top-tier programmers are the only ones who understand Lisp. Implied, however, is the assumption that if you don't get Lisp, well, you're not a top-tier programmer, and you Just Don't Get It.

Which gets to the second explanation of why Lisp isn't popular:

Lisp Users Are Assholes

I mean, the above quotes are a sampling, and, honestly, a mild one, of the perceived attitudes of Lisp aficianados to the outside world. And it doesn't help that Hoyt then proceeds to call other non-Lisp Languages “Blub”, which, despite his many attempts to soften the blow, just makes him sound like an asshole. Like, you could have said “other languages”, dude. Sure it's less efficient, but you're dealing with people, not machines.

Like, Mark Tarver has an essay about the assholishness of Lisp users, which I don't recommend you read, because CONTENT WARNING ableism1. Maybe if you wanna take a look at commentary on that, you can go for Rudolf Winestock's The Lisp Curse, which is a little better, I guess?

Lisp is so powerful, that it encourages individual independence to the point of bloody-mindedness. This independence has produced stunningly good innovation as in the Lisp Machine days. This same independence also hampers efforts to revive the “Lisp all the way down” systems of old; no “Lisp OS” project has gathered critical mass since the demise of Symbolics and LMI.

[...]

Why [doesn't the Lisp community] make a free development system that calls to mind some of the lost glories of the LispM, even if they can't reproduce another LispM?

The reason why this doesn't happen is because of the Lisp Curse. Large numbers of Lisp hackers would have to cooperate with each other. Look more closely: Large numbers of the kind of people who become Lisp hackers would have to cooperate with each other.

The argument is, commercially, if you're a brilliant asshole, no one wants you. While your brilliance would be an asset for a while, what really makes organizations and enterprises scale isn't the fact that they hire brilliant people, but that they hire and use people brilliantly, in ways that are robust and don't rely on having the Right Kind of People on board. It's also why computer security is such a fucking thing to get right, because most of the solutions seem to be... hire the best in the industry and go with that? Which works great until your Chief Security Officer gets run over by a bus a better offer from the competition. Then what?

I mean, yes, capitalist models rely on you having a development workforce that is fungible, because it is cheaper in the long run, but it also reduces risk, even if reducing labor costs aren't a thing for you. It's also more democratic that way, because, yes, you need it to be accessible and approachable to the people who are affected by your code. And it needs to be reproducible, because if not, what if it's scientific work and we need to verify it?

But, even then, this diagnosis — that, charitably, the expressiveness of Lisp attracts brilliant assholes who can't even be convinced to work with one another rankles, because it fundamentally means that there's no solution. The language is too good for normies, and only assholes will use it, ∴ that's the end. Nothing more can be said.

I wonder if there's more to it. And I suspect there might be.

The Social Models Around Lisp Might Actually Be Toxic

Notice the commonality around the four people I've quoted above?

Yup.

They're all white dudes.

I'm not saying that the Lisp community is so toxic because the loudest voices within Lisp are all white men. I'm saying that the fundamental assumptions that these white men have about what is good might actually be a reason why Lisp's community might be so toxic.

There's a difference. Bear with me.

Graham actually talks about the process of developing software in Lisp — the bottom-up approach — but he talks about it in a way that assumes that development occurs with a single person, and that the final vision of the problem space is the insight of one person, or a small group of people with a common enough vision: sort of a Cathedral-style system. Does it have to be?

Why can't bottom-up development occur in a collaborative, cooperative system? Sure, Lisp “doesn't have syntax” (which always weirded me out — it does have syntax, just one that's “invisible” and “self-evident” to a certain class of mind). One that eschews the models that we're used to in capitalist and hegemonic systems. If Lisp is one of the purest forms of mathematical expression, what Hoyt refers to as a “U-Language”, shouldn't it be universally accessible and open to critique?

Maybe the reason why Lisp doesn't work is because the social models around Lisp — one that erases and diminishes the contributions and the lives of people who aren't white men of a certain analytical mindset — make it fail. Maybe whiteness — the social construct, one that lionizes individual brilliance of a specific kind, emphasizes competition over collaboration, pretends that there is an Objective™ Truth over the experiences of others, and considers all emotions other than violent, abusive ones weakness — is the reason why Lisp fails, despite its expressiveness and power.

Maybe the way to do it is to change the way people learn Lisp, and work with Lisp, and collaborate with Lisp, rather than the model we have today.

Could something like that, a system that allows easy, safe collaboration, and organisations that deliberately go for minority and disadvantaged groups, be something that could kick Lisp out of its doldrums?

He calls these people “brilliant bipolar minds”, because, of course. Just because you can diagnose the problem doesn't mean that you don't have the problem as well. ↩︎

#tech adventures #musings #Lisp #discourse #subjecting Design Thinking over everything

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beastlycheese · 7 years ago

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Everything Has Changed

Here lies my Rumbelle Secret Santa for @ittybittybitchywitchy she asked for karaoke and a Rumbelle duet especially the song Everything Has Changed by Taylor Swift/Ed Sheeran.

Chapter One

“You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar when I met you”, crooned Neal far too loudly into his girlfriend’s ear. “No, I wasn’t. I met you when I found you sleeping in the back seat of my car”, protested Emma, “and you will never find a song to fit that scenario”.

“Ok, Ok, how about this?” Neal tried again, “You were working as a waitress in a karaoke bar when I first fucked you”.

“That much is true” she laughed, “but a rather vulgar attempt at a serenade. Plus, you are going to have to stop singing that song when Belle comes out because Gaz has been hammering it out none stop at her all night”.

“Ah shit, not again, is that why you wanted me to walk you two back tonight?” Neal worried. His girlfriend and her flatmate, Belle, loved their job at the “Top Hat”. But it was in a rather dodgy part of town and some of the customers got a bit too handsy by the end of an evening’s drinking and would hang around outside waiting to hijack anyone not coupled off. He lived in the flat above the bar, it was terribly noisy, but it was cheap and way better than couch surfing or sleeping in other people’s cars. Living above the bar had made him bouncer-in-chief for the two girls, they got an escort back to their flat and in return he got a quiet sleep-over with Emma. They also had heating, clean sheets, warm showers and a stocked fridge.

Belle finally hurried towards them, tottering in her ridiculously high heels and pulling her tiny coat on. “Can we get a taxi?” Belle sighed. “My feet are killing me. I think I have blisters on my blisters!”

“No way!” Complained Emma, “That would mean we worked the last hour for nothing! I’m going to have to cut down working so many shifts soon with exams coming up, I just need the cash. You should wear flats, I do keep on telling you. No blisters and your gorgeous ‘fuck me’ shoes don’t get waterlogged with slops”.

“OK Mrs Practical footwear and sensibly warm leather jacket, but you and Neal are going to have give me piggy backs or I will never make it. And they are the only way I can reach those glasses at the top. If they were ‘fuck me shoes’ surely I would have a boyfriend by now”.

“Haaa,” said Emma, “that is because you turn down every offer you get”.

“Ugh but I work in a troll bar, they are all disgusting!”

—

They ended up deciding to crash at Neal’s. The lovers curled up on the sofa together while Belle stretched out on the floor trying to tend to her battered toes. While they indulged in some ‘medicinal’ whisky the conversation returned to Gaz and his band of fellow ‘disgusting’ trolls.

“So, he took off his shirt at this point and hurls it towards Belle at the bar, thrusting and gyrating his hips and repeating ‘don’t you want me baby’, until Jefferson just pulled him off the stage.”

“It didn’t end there,” added Belle, “Notty and Gaz caught me on my break, they were on either side of me trying to grab my hand, so I positioned them until they were holding each other’s hands and made a break for it. They were too embarrassed to come after me.”

“Yes, I bet they had to thump each other to prove their heterosexuality to the other nobs after that” sneered Neal.

“OK, so he is a total sleaze-bag but come on Belle, you have to admit that Gaz is not your average “Top Hat” troll. The six pack, the cheek bones, tall, dark and handsome, he is your classic hunk.” Emma asked her flat mate who had started shaking her head vigorously.

“Not for me, Ems, he is just gargantuan, like Big Foot or an abominable snowman, and all those muscles just give me the creeps. I’ve dated a tall guy, Will was over six foot and I used to get neck ache just trying to look him in the eye, kissing was a logistical conundrum.”

“So, come on Belle then, if it isn’t hunks what type do you go for?” Neal enquired, flashing his eyes and puckering his lips. He quickly received a thump on the arm from his girlfriend.

“Well you have got really lovely eyes Neal, but sorry you are like a brother to me”, said Belle.

“I do love a well-dressed man, not too tall, any colour but the darker the better, mysterious, intelligent – obviously, well read - definitely, a good cook, mature. I’m so sick of the kids on my course, I know that I’m only a few years older than most of them, but they still think that talking about bodily functions is the height of wit.”

“OK, OK, I’ve got it,” enthused Emma, “you ditch the Troll bar, and get a job at a dwarf tavern next to a university frequented by lecturers and librarians.

“No” said Neal, “librarians are always dressed pretty dowdily.”

“Oh no they are not!” argued Belle, “I was a librarian, we are always smartly put together.”

“When were you a librarian?” quizzed Neal. “I thought you were studying management.”

“I am now. Libraries are always losing funding, I was made redundant, I could not find a new job for love nor money, Emyr – my boyfriend left me for his best mate – Arthur! So, I came to London for a new start and to retrain for a new career. I’m heartbroken though, not over Emyr we were never right for each other, he was always off on marches, joining every campaign there was, trying to save the world. I was quite happy to sign the petitions and write strongly worded letters, but I hated the confrontational side of protesting, I just wanted to stay at home and find my ideal word in a book. I loved being a librarian. I really would do anything to live all my life surrounded by books.”

“OK, so not a dwarf tavern, you could be a manager of a book shop with a really low door so only short-asses can get in” decided Emma.

“Or limbo-dancers” laughed Neal. “Would you really do anything to be a librarian again Belle?”

“Definitely. I would even sell my soul to a demon or a powerful wizard to make it happen.”

“Right, If I found you a job, would you ditch the heels and wear trainers?” tempted Neal.

“Then we wouldn’t have to crash in this dump and we wouldn’t have to get up at 5 to get to classes” dreamed Emma.

“My shoes, that is a higher price to pay than my soul Neal! And Emma if I had a job I wouldn’t need to work at the bar. But anyway, you are not going to find me a job because there are seriously none out there.”

“We will see!” said Neal with a wink to Emma. “I will win this deal and you need to go shopping for some trainers.”

—-

“What are you up to Cassisdy?” asked Emma. She was desperate to get to sleep knowing she had to get up early to trek back to her flat first thing. Neal, however, had other ideas and was busy clicking away on his laptop.

“Ha! Got you” Neal finally whispered triumphantly and pointed to a website on his screen.

“Storybrooke library seeks qualified and experienced librarian” read Emma. “Neal this is a press release from three years ago. That post will have been filled by now. Hey, Storybrooke? Isn’t that the dreadful one-horse town you escaped from?”

“Yes, well it is more like a village with an ego-problem. It pretends to be a town and only gets away with that status because it counts all the hamlets from round and about in its supposed population. Private money built the library and a leisure centre, it pretends to be more important than it is. Nobody visits and nobody leaves. Before I escaped my Dad was having a feud over this job with the mayor.”

“Another feud?”

“Yes, another feud, that is one of the reasons I had to leave,” he sighed. “A feud broke out every other day in that place, usually involving my dad.”

Neal had a very complicated relationship with his father that had always intrigued his girlfriend. Emma had grown up in the care system and would have loved any family to call her own. Whereas Neal refused to speak to either of his. When he had first left Storybrooke to study law, he had had a personal crisis, finally out of the clutches of his overprotective father, and buoyed by city life he had decided to seek out his estranged mother. This had led to a very strained relationship with his father and to top it all his mother and her new husband were as vile as his father had, annoyingly, described. So, he had dropped out of Uni, changed his name and hit the road to ‘find himself’. All he had found was that it was miserable, cold and uncomfortable not having any money or anywhere to stay. He had taken to breaking into cars to sleep and scraping a living working in seedy bars. Without a national insurance number, he had to take what work he could. That was when he had met Jeff who had bailed him out a thousand times with an interesting array of jobs, none too illegal.

His life had turned around recently when he had met Emma, in her car, and she had finally forgiven him and become his girlfriend. Jeff had settled down a bit by buying a bar trying to clean up his act, primarily because he had managed to regain custody of his daughter. So, in return for lugging the bottles and kegs around, washing-up, baby-sitting the delightful Grace and general dogs-bodying Neal got to stay in the flat above. Jeff had also magicked up jobs for Emma and her flat-mate. He had even saved enough money to enrol part-time on a drama course. It had helped that the course was run by Jeff’s girlfriend Ariel. Jeff maybe as mad as a hatter but he always seemed to magically solve every problem that came his way and now Neal was convinced he had discovered a way to magically solve Belle’s problem.

“I bet you anything this job is still there.” Neal explained. “Dad said she would try to bury it, which is why there is only a press release about it. Nobody looks at those pages and it is not on the job site. You must know where it is to find it. Regina was angling to get her sister the job you see. Dad managed to find a loophole in the town charter, that said you had to have a degree in library science and experience of working in a library to get the post. She will have hidden it and used the money for a different project out of spite. Dad was always pro-library, and anti-anything to do with the Mills family.”

“But,” said Emma, “even if Belle wants to go and live in the middle of nowhere and she does apply for and get the job aren’t you afraid she will tell him that she knows you and tell him where you live.”

“She will never find out, unless you tell her. We have different names and she is hardly going to get into a long conversation with him for anything to come up. He is an anti-social grump. The town pariah.”

Chapter Two

Two months later and Belle was on a train back to London having had her interview in Storybrooke. Emma had been texting her all the way up, sending their normal karaoke inspired banter to try and calm her nerves. She was obviously desperate to know the outcome as Belle found eight unread messages when she had finally taken her seat, most of them containing question marks and expletives.

Emma: This is Ground Control, come in Major Tom, report?????

Belle: This is Major Tom, returning to Planet Earth in tin can. I’ve put my trainers on.

Emma: Yayyyyyyyyyyy!!!!! What time will you dock? Welcoming committee getting ready to inspect footwear.

Belle: Ah, they were metaphorical trainers. Did not want to jinx myself. Rendezvous at Hat at 8 for reveal.

Emma: So pleased, but sad you are leaving. Were villagers friendly?

Belle: The place is weenie like a village in a fairy story, everything was so small.

Emma: Did you find a dwarf tavern then?

Belle: No, but the taxi driver was definitely Grumpy and the guy on reception Sneezy

Emma: What was the interview like?

Belle: Mayor was Evil Queen, patronising, bossy and scary, her assistant a crazy red-headed witch

Emma: R U sure this job isn’t a poisoned apple then?

Belle: The library is perfect, and the main users are two teachers who charmed me. Plus, I can live in the flat above, rent free which is good because local landlord is apparently a monster.

Emma: Belles are always good at taming Beasts. Will tell Neal good news, CU at 8

—

Belle had settled into her little flat in the quaint village of Storybrooke but had struggled to make friends. Everyone seemed to regard her with suspicion, silence met her every move. The library needed a lot of modernising before she could open it to the public and she was usually too exhausted to go out in the evening. The waitress at the café had been friendly but far to busy flirting with the male customers to chat with Belle, so she spent most of her time texting Emma.

Emma: Have you passed inspection yet?

Belle: Yes!!!Evil witch and mysterious Mr Gold arrived @ 2. Gold looks like a cross between Mick Jagger and an accountant. Tho’ he is Scottish so maybe Rod Stewart but not blonde.

Emma: Billy Connolly? Were they impressed with all the work you have put in?

Belle: Not Billy he is no comedian! He’s serious but strangely flamboyant when angry. He does remind me of someone though, it will come to me..

Emma: How are you making him angry? Isn’t he the Beast?

Belle: Not me, the witch. They seem to like to snark at each other. Hopefully their fireballs won’t burn my books. GTG it looks like the Beast is coming back.

Gold had seen the little beauty from a distance, but he had been trying to keep away from Regina’s latest project. However, now he had seen the librarian close-up he was drawn immediately back. She was stunning. She had chestnut curls and beautiful blue pools for eyes, stunning long legs over incredibly sexy heels, the like of which he had not seen in this god-forsaken town. (Well except for the ugly sisters but after dating their mum he really couldn’t think of them as anything other than spoilt little brats). Now, but now, he felt like he had been asleep for a hundred years and his princess had come to wake him and breathe new life into him. He also felt like a total idiot. One pretty face and he was acting like a smitten school boy. She was so young and oh so beautiful, he on the other hand was old and grumpy, with a limp and generally just a complete and utter bastard. Anyway, he was on a mission and he had to return to the library and if that meant he got to gaze on his princess then so be it.

“Good afternoon Mr. Gold. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. I’m sorry I didn’t catch your first name?”

“Just Gold will do”, he automatically replied, wanting to punch himself for being so rude.

“Oh, is that short for Justin?” Belle enquired.

“Don’t be smart with me Ms French you know what I mean, you can call be GOLD or MISTER Gold if you insist”

“I am sorry MISTER Gold, I wasn’t meaning to be rude. I was trying to be friendly I didn’t realise it was a state secret.”

“I don’t expect such impertinence from a public servant. Good day Miss French”.

Gold stormed off, well stormed off as much as you can with a dodgy ankle and a cane. Shit, he had got all flustered and totally screwed it up and he was so looking forward to getting his hands on that book.

Belle: I’ve totally screwed up. I asked the Beast too many questions and he got angry, roared at me and disappeared in a puff of smoke! Shit!!!

Emma: OMG did you ask him if he was single and if he was any good with his tongue?

Belle: NO!!! His first name. I only asked him for his first name and he looked so sad with big puppy eyes just like Bae’s and then he exploded.

Emma: He must have a real stinker of a name then. What do you reckon? Arsehole? Arsehole Gold?

Belle: Beastly because that’s what he is. But he does have Bae’s pretty eyes, weird.

Emma: What a coincidence. Hugs.

Belle: Yep virtual ones are the only ones you give.

Emma: We can’t all be touchy feely like you!

Belle: I still can’t believe I have made my first customer storm out! Aaaagh

It took Gold two weeks to enter the library again. He had been monitoring the comings and goings at the library from his shop, on the opposite side of the street and chose the busiest time he could in a hope of not having to deal with the librarian. He sneaked in when Mary Margaret had ushered in her class and creeped to the back. It didn’t take too long to find the precious book and slipping it under his jacket he made his way to the door. Belle was busy at the desk dealing with many little hands all waving their picture books and hoping to be next. He grabbed this opportunity and rushed towards the door when suddenly there was a loud clanging alarm and flashing lights. All eyes were on him.

Before he could move Belle was by his side. “Mr Gold you seem to have set off the alarm. Is there a book that you wish to borrow? I realise that I’m rather busy now, I could check it out for you later and drop it off at lunchtime if you would like?” He had little choice but to hand her the book and without saying a word he returned to his shop empty handed.

It took ten more minutes for Belle to sort out the children’s books and while the class got back into their coats Belle chatted with their teacher. She couldn’t help bringing up the incident with Gold.

“The look on his face was a picture! I’ve never seen him speechless before! He obviously didn’t know about the security tags. I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t given us that talk. What was the old miser trying to pinch anyway? He is so rich he could afford a hundred libraries you know. His son was lovely. I taught him, and he went off to University. Never comes back though. Obviously sick of the monster too.”

“No, I don’t think he was stealing, just in a rush and didn’t have time to queue I should think. When is your next class due?”

Belle was relieved when the children had gone, and calm returned. No more screaming kids with sticky, grabby paws and no more judgemental chatterboxes. Just her and her beloved books.

It was nearly lunchtime, so she decided she had better deal with Gold straight away. First snag, he wasn’t on the system. There was an entry for Baelfire Gold, but by the birth date it was obviously not him. Second snag, it was a reference book and it was not allowed to leave the library. She was going to have to ring him and tell him the bad news. Third snag, no entry on the system, no phone number. She was going to have to face the Beast in his lair.

Gold was hiding in the back room of his shop, head in hands. He now remembered Regina had talked to him about the modernisation of the library and some state of the art security system, guess he hadn’t been paying too much attention, transfixed as he had been by Belle’s brightness. Now he had been humiliated in front of many of his tenants, well their children and the ultimate town gossip Mary Margaret. That librarian had him bewitched, but she had been kind and had covered up for him, and her smile had made his heart skip a beat, or maybe that was the shock of the alarm. All he was sure of was that the beauty had him under her spell and he was cursed to make a fool of himself in front of her every time they met.

Of course, the doorbell was jingling now, he knew it was going to be her, so he pulled himself up and braced himself.

“Ah Ms French, I do hope you have my book.”

“Unfortunately not, Mr Gold, the book you seek is a reference book and I am not at liberty to allow it out of the library. But you are welcome to attend the library anytime and peruse it at your leisure.” Belle replied, trying desperately not to shake. At that very moment she saw his books. Antique books, immediately drawn to them before Mr Gold could reply she had one in her hand.

“Jane Eyre” she said with wonder. “Is this a first edition Mr Gold?”

“Unfortunately not, Ms French, it is a third edition, but quite rare, if you turn to page 279 you will find that the 9 is actually missing and..”

“Oliver Twist!” said the awestruck librarian, grabbing another prize, her mouth was open wide, eyes flashing, body shaking with excitement.

“Now that is a first edition and a first issue. As you can see it has a Boz title page and the ‘Fireside’ plate. This was rushed out in book form before serialization was complete, and the last few plates were hurried in. Dickens disliked the final ‘Fireside’ plate and asked for a new design, the ‘Church’ plate. He also decided that he no longer wished to be styled “Boz”. The first issue, that you are holding, was published on 9 November; the second, with cancel titles, omitting the sub-title and giving Dickens’s name as the author, and with the ‘Church’ plate at the end, was issued on 16 November 1838.”

Belle was struck dumb during his little speech, she had realised that he was the most handsome man she had ever met, beautifully dressed, intelligent, knowledgeable about her favourite subject and if it wasn’t for his eyes she was quite convinced she would have to kiss him.

Gold smirked. “However, I am not a liberty to allow them out of my shop without you paying the asking price, which you can clearly see on the protective sleeve.”

“Touché, Mr Gold, touché”, Belle sighed.

“But you are, of course, welcome to visit and peruse my collection at your leisure”, Gold added.

They both couldn’t help laughing at that.

Chapter Three

That was the beginning of Belle and Gold’s lunchtime chats. Gold would put the kettle on, Belle would bring a treat from the café or some experimental bakes from her limited repertoire. Gold was always polite and ate them and smiled, his offerings were of a much higher standard, (YES HE COULD COOK TOO). Finally, she had found someone to chat to in Storybrooke and the need for company was obviously mutual, she realised that Gold was very lonely. There were hardly any visitors to his shop because he sold most of his antiques on line. The local residents only came in when they needed favours, usually asking for more time to pay the rent and they were never pleasant conversations.

Lunchtime was Gold’s favourite part of the day for that was when Belle arrived like a ray of sunshine. He was so deeply in love with her, she was beautiful, intelligent and so enthusiastic to hear all the tales behind his collection of books and antiquities. Her visits were a delicious torture but he was addicted to her and although he was convinced he was not worthy of her company, he couldn’t and wouldn’t give her up.

Despite them meeting up for over two weeks Gold had not yet visited the library. Belle wondered if it was his leg that stopped him from popping by, but she wasn’t quite sure how to bring it up without causing a scene and they had been getting on so sweetly that she did not want to rock the boat. She was totally besotted with him now, even his eyes drew her in, Neal totally forgotten. She was unsure how to proceed on that front either, he was such a gentleman, so dignified, so refined, so out of her league.

“How about tomorrow, you could come over to the library, Dylan?” Belle finally asked bravely, cheekily adding: “You can look at that book you tried to steal”

“No it is not Dylan, and I didn’t try to steal it, I..” Gold broke off turning abruptly and moving behind a curtain. Belle slightly alarmed that she had teased too much too quickly followed to find her companion in tears. She was stunned and on instinct drew him into a big hug stroking his back and whispering words of comfort to him. Gold broke down, the hug making him cry even harder. Pathetic, he felt like a pathetic wretch, but this angel made him feel safe and loved, finally he manged to get a grip of himself and he motioned to use his handkerchief.

“Belle, I am so so sorry, what must you think of me? The book, it is the Yearbook for Storybrooke High and it, well, it has a picture of my son in. I haven’t seen him for three years and I have been so keen to get hold of this picture, it was the last one before he left, and I just needed to see it, the library has been closed and I’m afraid it has become an obsession. It is pathetic I know, but, but I miss him so much and I tend to grab on to any tiny contact with him I can get.” He proceeded to tell her how he and his son had become estranged, the bitter words, the mistakes on either side.

“Oh, my precious friend,” Belle replied, she was so moved by his story that she just couldn’t help herself from taking his hands and placing a light kiss on his lips. Gold’s tears soon became tears of joy.

From that moment everything had changed. Lunches with Gold were now interspersed with cuddles and kisses as they finally understood that their love for each other was a shared feeling. Tonight, though, tonight was a biggy. Gold had invited her for dinner and by the look in his eyes and the passion in their kisses she knew they were both ready for something more serious. She decided she would bring him a gift so she found the correct Yearbook and got ready to scan the pictures into her laptop. It was then she saw it, Gold’s son, Baelfire was her friend Neal!

Belle: Hi Neal, or should I say Baelfire!

Neal: Don’t understand

Belle: Come on Neal, surely you knew I would find out. It all makes sense now, how you knew about this job, this obscure place.

Neal: Shit. I didn’t think you would ever to talk to my Dad. He doesn’t talk to anyone.

Belle: I saw your picture in the Yearbook and yes we talk, a lot.

Neal: You haven’t told him you know me, have you? I really don’t want to see him.

Belle: Not yet, but you should, he is sorry, and he misses you so much.

Neal: Please no Belle. I’m happy here I don’t want to run again.

Belle: You don’t need to run

Neal: You don’t know what he is like he is just so suffocating.

Belle: I do know what he is like I’m his girlfriend

Neal: WTF!!! He is my Dad!

Belle: Well I did not know that did I !!!

Neal: Suppose not. Please please please don’t tell him, not yet. Hopefully you will split up. He is such an arsehole it won’t be long.

Belle: He is not an ass, he has a nice ass.

Neal: Ew, gross. You haven’t slept with him have you?

Belle: None of your business, but I’m hardly gonna become your step-Mum anytime soon

Neal: OMG. This is a nightmare.

Later that night Belle lay entwined with her new lover, smiling, content, satisfied.

“Don’t you think it is about time you told me your first name, now that we have been intimate?”

“Hmm, nice try French, I may have shown you every bit of me but I’m still not willing to share that detail”, Gold grinned and pressed a kiss to her brow, nose, lips, and chin.”

“How bad can it be? I feel as If I’ve gone through hundreds of silly names already”.

“OK, I will give you three more guesses and then you will have had your lot”.

“Who do you think you are? Rumplestiltskin? That’s it isn’t it. Well I’m sticking with that now. My darling little Rumple, you better get used to it or tell me your real one” demanded Belle.

“You will never guess I will bet you anything and I’m fine with Rumple but I think you need distracting” laughed Gold. He kissed her deeply. He slowly moved down her body until he had reached the promised land, he hooked her legs over his shoulders and grinned at her little appreciative noises. Swirling his tongue around her folds and clitoris he didn’t stop until she screamed, shuddered and slumped down in ecstasy.

He woke up hours later with Belle’s luscious lips wrapped around his penis, she was returning the favour and he was in heaven. When he had recovered they cuddled some more, neither was prepared to move, even though it was time to start the day.

“Would you like some breakfast my beauty? Gold asked. “Or have you filled yourself up already?”

“Yes, I’m starving after that work out. But I’m surprised you can talk this morning, I thought your tongue might be in a sling.

“I loved pleasing you, the little moans you made, the screams and your delicious taste

“Well it was amazing, I’ve never had such a treat, how did you manage to keep going?”

“A book Miss French of course. I read that the best technique was to draw the alphabet with your tongue and when I finished that I started spelling out Lord Byron’s ‘She Walks in Beauty’”, confided Gold.

“God, I love literature” sighed Belle.

Neal: You promise you haven’t told him.

Belle: No but for my silence I need a favour

Neal: What? Anything.

Belle: What is his first name? And why is it such a secret?

Neal: Oh, now that would be telling. You out to blackmail the pair of us?

Belle: Maybe

Neal: It is Randy, after Randy Newman, his Dad’s favourite singer.

Belle: Ah I see. Suitable in America but for a kid in Scotland an excuse for bullying.

Neal: Yep, I don’t think he ever got over it. Wouldn’t tell anyone, didn’t trust anyone, it kind of closed him off especially after Mum dumped him.

Belle: See you still care for him.

Neal: Maybe a little bit.

Belle: How’s Emma? Not heard from her. U 2 OK?

Neal. U2 are pants and you know it. No, we are great but we got broken into and Emma got her phone nicked. She moved in with me and now this happens!

Belle: That is awful, what are you going to do?

Neal: Well Jeff has come to the rescue. This huge bald guy turns up, like 7 foot, with loads of little guys, and they buzz around the place, fit locks, CCTV, central heating, new shower.

Belle: Wow! This huge guy wouldn’t be called Dove would he?

Neal: Yes I think he was. You know him? I guess he is one of Jeff’s old bouncer mates.

Belle: Yep maybe.

Lunchtime couldn’t come quick enough for Belle, she had Gold’s name and after what Neal had revealed, many other questions to ask, like how many 7 foot Dove’s in the world could there possibly be?. It was Gold’s turn to bring the treat and he had come up trumps with strawberries, melted chocolate and cream.

“So, If I do guess your real name Rumple, what is my prize?”

“Oh I will owe you a favour, ask and it will be yours, but you only have two more guesses.” He smiled and popped another strawberry into his mouth.

“Ok, Rudolph” said Belle.

“No, my nose isn’t the slightest bit red! Last try”

“Randy?” asked Belle all innocently.

Gold was silent, “Shit, yes that is it, wow. I never thought you would get that. I hate it. Ruined my childhood. I was bullied and bullied. Randy Beggar they used to call me, the jokes never stopped. Even the teachers joined in. Please stick with Rumple Belle. It just makes me shake whenever I hear that name.”

Belle got down on her knees before him taking his hands: “Of course Rum, I will. I will never say it again, I wouldn’t want to upset you, ever. But you are still going to owe me a favour.”

“Thank you,” he replied, “anything, ask anything of me”.

“Karaoke”, said Belle, “I want you to sing a duet with me.”

“What you have got to be joking! You want me to what go down to The White Rabbit, that hole, and sing in front of my tenants, no, Mr Gold does not sing. I would rather gouge my eyes out with a rusty fork!”

“Oh, come now, Rumple, you promised me and it doesn’t have to be The White Rabbit, karaoke bars exist now, you can even hire out little booths with just a few friends.”

“I know dearie, I own one!”

“I knew it you own the Top Hat don’t you? That is why your man Dove was there, that is why Jefferson is so generous to us, you are spying on your son!” replied Belle angrily.

“My son! What do you know about my son Belle? What do you know.”

“Oh Rum,” sighed Belle “just that you love him and will always look out for him whatever happens, and that my best friend loves him too and that he is one lucky guy.”

—

Epilogue

It was the best Storybrooke Christmas ever. Emma, Neal, baby Henry, Rum and Belle were all wrapped up in their silly Christmas onesies passing presents to each other. The newly married Gold’s had tastefully decorated their Victorian house and purchased the biggest tree on offer. They were drinking Bucks Fizz and the mood was merry and bright.

“Ok Belle, this box is for you” said Emma, but it is too heavy to lift so you are going to have to come here. Belle pushed up off the sofa with a little help from Rum, her tummy rounded and heavy with child. She carefully unwrapped the present.

“A karaoke machine!” she cried.

“Yes, I promised to sing a duet with a beautiful librarian some time ago and I never break a deal, Nealfire set it up”

“Sure Rumplestiltskin, you hold the baby and I will get right on it”, laughed Neal.

The machine was a great hit. The boys couldn’t get the girls off it as they relived their time together at the Top Hat blasting through the favourites. It was after dinner when the happy family gathered to hear the long-awaited debut of Mr and Mrs Gold at the mike.

“What are we going to sing Rum? Belle asked.”

“Well, my dearest son was kind enough to help me purchase this machine and he has been helping me practice singing your, apparently favourite song, so hear we go. ‘Everything Has Changed’ by TayTay and Mr Edward Sheeran. Merry Christmas my love.”

The family cheered, and Belle sang, followed by Rum and then the rest of the Golds joined in.

[Belle] All I knew this morning when I woke Is I know something now, know something now I didn’t before. And all I’ve seen since eighteen hours ago Is green eyes and freckles and your smile In the back of my mind making me feel like [Belle] I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now [Belle and Rum] I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now I just wanna know you, know you, know you [Belle and Rum] ‘Cause all I know is we said, “Hello.” And your eyes look like coming home All I know is a simple name Everything has changed All I know is you held the door You’ll be mine and I’ll be yours All I know since yesterday is everything has changed [Rum] And all my walls stood tall painted blue And I’ll take them down, take them down and open up the door for you [Belle] And all I feel in my stomach is butterflies The beautiful kind, making up for lost time, Taking flight, making me feel right [Belle and Rum] I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now I just wanna know you, know you, know you [All] 'Cause all I know is we said, “Hello.” And your eyes look like coming home All I know is a simple name Everything has changed All I know is you held the door And you’ll be mine and I’ll be yours All I know since yesterday is everything has changed Come back and tell me why I’m feeling like I’ve missed you all this time, oh, oh, oh. And meet me there tonight And let me know that it’s not all in my mind. [All] I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now I just wanna know you, know you, know you

Merry Christmas to all Rumbellers and especially to ittybittybitchywitch

#Rumbelle Secret Santa #rss ittybittybitchywitchy merry christmas rumbelle

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lsesu · 7 years ago

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March Highlights 2018

There’s so many amazing things going on in March. We’ve rounded a few of them up into one handy blog - have your diaries at the ready!

LSESU & Society Highlights

WEEK 9

International Women's Day Brunch

What: To celebrate International Women's Day, your LSESU Women's Officer will be hosting a FREE brunch for all self-identifying women on campus. Come along any time from 11 am - 1 pm to grab some food and chat.

When: Thursday 8th March, 11am - 1pm.

Where: The Venue, Floor -2, SSH

LSE Cocktail Society celebrates International Women’s Day

What: Join the LSE cocktail society as they celebrate International Women's Day 2018! A menu of 3 unique cocktails and 1 mocktail has been created for this event, all named after and inspired by inspirational women.

When: Thursday 8th March, 6pm - 8pm.

Where: 6th Floor Cafe, SSH

Sparks at LSE 2018

What: Founded in 2010, Sparks has emerged as the largest and most prestigious student-run entrepreneurship conference in the UK. This year is no different - expect a dashing lineup of keynote speeches, a VC panel discussion, a networking lunch, 2 rounds of workshops, and closing drinks. Check out the confirmed speakers so far & the conference agenda here, and get your tickets here.

When: Saturday 10th March, 9am - 6pm.

Where: The Venue, Floor -2, SSH

TEDxLSE 2018: Brought to Light

What: In the spirit of "Ideas Worth Spreading", TEDx is a program of local, self-organised events that bring people together to share a TED-like experience. This year, TEDxLSE presents its annual conference, ‘Brought to Light’. Prepare for a full day of inspirational talks from a huge range of incredible speakers - check out their Facebook event page to see the full list!

When: Saturday 10th March, 10am - 4pm.

Where: Senate House, Beveridge Hall.

WEEK 10

LSE Dance Society presents Resonance 2018

What: LSE Dance Club’s presents their annual dance show, Resonance at the Peacock Theatre. Featuring dance performances from a range of genres, it’s one not to be missed!

When: Monday 12th March, 7pm.

Where: Peacock Theatre.

AU Pride Night

What: Get out your neon clothes, rainbow laces, and glitter and join us in the Tuns for AU Pride Night. Expect glitter, face paint, and rainbow flags galore!

When: Wednesday 14th March, 7pm - 11pm

Where: The Tuns, SSH.

Working on a Tier 4 Visa

What: The LSESU International Officer has teamed up with the International Students Visa Advice Team and LSE careers to present an informal talk about how the changes to the Tier 4 Visa and how it may impact you after graduation and what kind of opportunities there are after you complete your degree.

When: Wednesday 14th March, 6pm - 8pm.

Where: Room 9.04, 9th Floor, Tower 2

Mature Students Mixer for London Universities

What: Come along to the first ever London-wide social mixer organised by mature student representatives from across the city (including King's, SOAS, LSESU & LSBSU). SOAS is hosting the inaugural event and we invite London's mature students to enjoy free food, drink, music and the opportunity to mingle with other mature students from across London. This event is open to mature students at ANY London university. Please check the Facebook event page to claim your FREE ticket.

When: Wednesday 14th March, 7.15pm.

Where: Room G3, SOAS Students Union

Disabili-TEA Party

What: This is a relaxed social for all self-identifying Disabled Students. It's a chance to meet other disabled students, share experiences and have fun :) There will be tea, cake and arts and crafts!

When: Thursday 15th March, 2.30pm - 4pm.

Where: 3rd Floor Meeting Room, LSE Students' Union.

RAG AU Vertical Rush Challenge

What: 932 steps, 42 floors, one epic competition. AU-RAG’s first ever collaboration takes on this massive skyscraper challenge. Each AU team will race against each other all the way to the top of Tower 42, all in aid of homelessness charity, Shelter.

When: Thursday 15th March, 12pm - 4pm.

Where: Tower 42, London.

St. Patrick’s Day at LSE

What: Irish Society hosts LSE's annual St. Patrick's Day celebration! On St. Patrick's eve (Friday March 16) the Tuns will be transformed into an Irish bar for the night, complete with Guinness and Irish music from UCL Ceilidh Band. All are welcome, Irish and non-Irish alike, so round up your friends and come and take part in the festivities!

When: Friday 16th March, 4pm - 11pm.

Where: The Three Tuns

See LSE’s amazing A Capella group, The Houghtones LIVE!

What: See KCL’s Rolling Tones, Bath’s Aquapella and the brilliant LSE Houghtones all in one go! Your ears are in for a treat!

When: Sunday 18th March, 7.30pm.

Where: The Venue, Floor -2, The Venue

WEEK 11

Talking About Mental Health

What: We have a panel of professional counsellors representing the private, NHS and LSE services. They will discuss the topic of mental health, demystify counselling as a service and provide self-help advice.

When: Monday 19th March, 12-1pm.

Where: The Venue

LSESU Baking Society: Inter-University Bake Off

What: This year, the LSESU Baking Society will be hosting the London Inter-University Bake Off in collaboration with University College London (UCL), Queen Mary University and King’s College! Whether you love baking and want to put your skills to test, want to learn more about opening your own bakery or simply want to taste some delicious cakes, this is the event for you! Check out the Facebook event page for more details on how to enter or attend!

When: Monday 19th March, 6.30pm - 9pm.

Where: 6th Floor Cafe, SSH

Happiness & Wellbeing // A Talk With Professor Paul Dolan

What: LSESU is hosting a lunchtime talk with LSE’s Professor Paul Dolan. Paul is a professor of Behavioural Science with an expertise in human behaviour and happiness. In addition to lecturing at LSE, Paul’s research has influenced government action on Wellbeing. This is one event not to be missed. As the time for exams and revision looms ever closer, we hope expert advice on happiness and wellbeing will put you in a great mind-set for future success!

When: Tuesday 20th March, 1pm - 1.50pm

Where: The Venue

LSESU Pole Fitness Annual Showcase

What: Join the LSESU Pole Fitness Society for an evening of breathtaking performances and body positivity. You will see things you didn't know was possible to do on a pole, and might even get the opportunity to try some moves yourself!

When: Tuesday 20th March, 7.30pm - 10pm

Where: The Venue, Floor -2, SSH.

Click here for tickets

STARS Awards

What: The annual celebration of the most outstanding students at LSESU - the most active, most engaged, those who have made real change - those who embody the spirit of LSE and the Union. Get your tickets here: bit.ly/lsesustarstickets

When: Thursday 22nd March, 5pm.

Where: The Venue, Floor -2, SSH

You Survived Lent Term!

What: Chill event to celebrate finishing Lent term with colouring in, card games and snacks. Also a chance to chat with your LGBT+ Officer.

When: Friday March 23rd, 5pm - 7pm

Where: 1st Floor Cafe, SSH.

LUCA London Students’ Run

What: Hosted by London Universities and Colleges Athletics (LUCA) these organised 5 and 10k races welcome all abilities and are chip timed meaning you’ll have yourself an official new time or even a PB! Plus, there will be goodie bags… need we say more? Pre-registration is required, and you can use the code ‘LSERUNS2018’ to get a discount on your entry.

When: Sunday 25th March.

Where: Victoria Park, London.

Click here to visit the London Students’ Run website.

Career Highlights

Have a browse of all the great events being run by LSE Careers this month here! You will have to login to your LSE IT account.

LSE Life Highlights

Take a look at the events going on at LSE Life this month here, and you can also sign up to the LSE LIFE Weekly Update email in order to stay up to date with everything that's going on in LSE Life. They have some amazing resources for exam planning and preparation - drop by LSE Life on the Ground Floor of the Library to pick up a revision schedule.

Volunteering Highlights

Make this the month you dedicate a tiny amount of your time to volunteering! You can view the current volunteering opportunities on CareerHub, and for more information about getting involved, visit the Volunteer Centre’s website.

LSESU PRO: Beyond The Classroom Highlights

The newly launched LSESU Pro gives you the opportunity to gain and develop professional skills. The Beyond the Classroom emploability training programme has previously run sessions such as introduction to British Sign Language, negotiation skills, project management, and much more - take a look at what’s going on this month here.

Have you been to an LSE Public Lecture yet?

LSE hosts a public lecture programme featuring over 200 events each year, covering a range of debates and topics where some of the most influential figures in social sciences can be heard. These can be extremely helpful to go to as outside research for your course, or to gain further knowledge about an area you’re interested in or passionate about.

The vast majority are free to attend, and they are open to anyone - LSE or not - so you can bring all your friends and family along! If you want to listen to podcasts or watch videos of past events, browse LSE’s extensive library of their past events here.

Do you have an event you’d like to add to this blog, either for this month or for a future month? Email me on [email protected] with the details of your event and we’ll add it in ASAP!

Happy March!

#lsesu #london school of economics #londonstudent #march #spring #thingstodo

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scarletwritingwolf · 7 years ago

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THE ART OF HEALING

Chapter 1: First Day Ghosts

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp was having a good look around her new office, and was being rather critical of its emptiness. She needed to inject this office with a little homeliness and personality.

. . . . . .

The office, had a large oak desk, with a big white swivel wing chair on one side of it, and two smaller oak chairs on the other. Off to the side there was an enormous cowhide rug, with two grey armchairs facing each other placed on it. The only thing hanging on the walls, in a modest frame, was my very recently acquired master’s degree in psychology.

Other than that, there wasn’t a plant, painting or trinket in sight. I began making a mental list of all the things I’d need; side tables, two plants, a couple of simple canvases, a table lamp and a floor lamp, and most definitely trinkets for the desk.

I felt the slight draft as the door opened, and my new boss and old friend; Joe walked in. “So Jane, what do you think of the digs?” he said in his American drawl.

“It’s incredible Joe, you’ve done a wonderful job setting up the office spaces. And I won’t say that I’m not thrilled you decided to stay in Edinburgh to practice, not just because you offered me a job once I’d finished.” I smiled guiltily, it had been very nice of Joe to wait the additional year after he had finished his own degree (and mentoring), before hiring anyone to assist him, to ensure that the vacant place would go to me.

He knew well enough that I couldn’t afford to set up my own practice, but Joe’s father had left him a sum of money to do just that, and good old faithful Joe stuck to his promise, starting practice almost immediately after finishing his degree last year.

I’d already made several mental notes to repay him for the rest of my existence.

Neither Joe or I were strictly native to Edinburgh, and in that respect it was an even greater comfort to the soul to have a familiar face to turn to.

Joe had had difficulty getting into a University anywhere in America, and knew his next best bet was to find one in Europe that would agree to have him, so Edinburgh it was. With great determination and hard work he finished at the top of his class, leaving his mark on the place he had adopted as home for the six years previous.

I, on the other hand, had a far more complicated back story, Edinburgh wasn’t where I was born, but I had spent much of my life there, and it had eventually come to feel like home for me, despite the loneliness of it at times.

“I’m glad you like it Jane, you think you can be happy here?” He had already formulated a guess as to what she was going to say next.

“Oh most definitely”, she hesitated before letting the next words tumble out of her mouth. “Although it is practically bare aside from the staple pieces of furniture, I would like to make it my own, if you don’t mind.”

“My Lady Jane, I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t.” He said, eyes twinkling with humour. “Shall we go and look for some things to fill up the space? Don’t disappoint me now and tell me you haven’t already prepared a list.”

I tried to look demure while plastering my best shocked look upon my face. “Alright, you’ve got me, I have a list. Any complaints about going antiquing?” I grinned slyly, knowing full well he’d hate it, for Joe loved to hate the junk (or so he called it) that I collected from antiquing stores. I chose not to mention that I collected these items because they reminded me of my Uncle.

“I’ve offered now, I suppose I can’t back out.” He said good naturedly, returning a toothy smile. “Let’s go.”

. . . . . .

She returned to her office that same evening, arms laden with her purchases. After several trips back to her car to gather the other pieces she’d picked up, she began the set up.

After the first half hour had passed she was still battling with her flat pack coffee table, and she began to lose faith in her abilities to live without a man, or at least without the supervision of one.

She sent Joe a text:

*Starting to wish I’d taken you up on your invite to stay for dinner, this flat pack nonsense is giving me hell :) *

Two more hours had passed; after the victory with the coffee table she’d managed to set up almost entirely. There were now muted canvases hanging on the walls, plants in two corners of the room, the afore mentioned coffee table nestled between the comfortable armchairs (that now held cushions), the table was decked out with tissues and a small abstract sculpture of a human brain.

Lastly she’d set up her desk with all the stationary she would need (likely enough for the next 10 years as well), a bespoke lamp, a telephone and the most beautiful antique gold clock. The clock reminded her, almost painfully, of her dear Uncle Lamb, it was very similar to one that he had sitting at his extremely untidy desk in Oxford.

How she wished now that she had had the courage to return to his office after his death, and retrieve some of his beloved possessions. Alas Claire Beauchamp had never been the sort to place much value in material things anyhow; and it was far easier to keep up this façade than to admit just how much value she placed in those things.

She glanced at her watch, wondering how so much time had escaped her, it was already 9:30pm, she would have to leave now in order to get home and actually rest before her first day tomorrow.

She left her laptop on her desk, tidied up the remains of her pizza dinner, and took one final look around, feeling proud of her accomplishments, she switched off the desk lamp and headed out the door.

The car ride home made her acutely aware of just how tired she was, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she forced herself to concentrate on the road. “This is ridiculous” she said out loud “pull yourself together Beauchamp, the drive home is barely 10 minutes!”.

Finally parking outside of her home, she sat motionless in her car for a further 5 minutes staring up at her building, preparing her tired body to walk the four flights of stairs that would deliver her to her apartment door.

The climb seemed shorter than usual, her body sort of carried itself, allowing her mind to wander freely. She was thinking of a reference in a textbook and a strong cup of oolong tea when she found herself outside of her door.

She crept inside, maintaining a stealthy silence despite knowing that there was no one to disturb within. In the comfort of her room she immediately began removing all of her clothing, and sliding herself into a heavy silk robe, before setting out to prepare a cup of tea.

Traipsing about her home, she absent mindedly checked that everything was in it’s place, which it was, and then turned towards her version of a library; a few shelves crammed to the hilt with books of every genre. Running her fingers over the spines of the many volumes, she came across the book she had wanted to reference, and took it over to the chaise seat in front of her window.

She flipped through to find the the passage she was after in B.F Skinner’s Beyond Freedom & Dignity, it read:

‘Freud was a determinist – on faith, if not on the evidence – but many Freudians have no hesitation in assuring their patients that they are free to choose among different courses of action and are in the long run the architects of their own destinies.

This escape route is slowly closed as new evidences of the predictability of human behaviour are discovered. Personal exemption from a complete determinism is revoked as a scientific analysis progresses, particularly in accounting for the behaviour of the individual.’

. . . . . .

The words eased my mind, as I remembered why I had decided to become a psychologist; the science of it, the concrete proof that the mind was a most complicated thing, and that you couldn’t simply choose your circumstance.

My mind drifted further, I curled myself into a cocoon on the chaise, and stared out of my bedroom window. The streets were quiet, and the only sound that could be heard was the white noise of the rain outside, ever present in Scotland.

I fell asleep watching the dewy drops fall to the ground.

. . . . . .

Claire sat in her office the next morning, bleary eyed, tired and surrounded, in the metaphorical sense, by the pressure she had put upon herself, the weight of it was heavy on her mind as though someone was steadily injecting liquid into her brain, the sensation of drowning in it was very real.

She took deep breaths in, out, in, out. The nerves about her first day had caused serious disruption to her sleep, so much so in fact, that sitting up reading her old psychology text books were the only thing that would soothe her troubled mind.

The new day had also, thankfully, brought with it some kind of distorted belief that she knew what she was doing, and that she was ready.

She checked her clock again; 9:01am.

Her first patient would be waiting by now just on the other side of the closed door, and there was no longer time for procrastination.

She took the eight long steps to the door in her stride, saying the patients name over and over as she went, so that she wouldn’t forget; Louise de La Tour, Louise de La Tour, Louise de La Tour…

. . . . . .

Opening the door, smile plastered on my face “Louise de La Tour?” My eyes landing on the woman whose name I called.

Louise stood up fumbling with her purse to put away the self-help book she had been reading, likely attempting to conceal the cover of it from me

I took a moment to glance at the other patient waiting to be seen by Joe. He had the most beautiful masculine face, encircled by a halo of red hair. He was looking at me too, his face bearing the strangest expression, I couldn’t decipher it’s meaning and nor would I have the time to do so, so I simply smiled and gave a nod.

I remembered where I was, and that my self interests where not of consequence at this moment, and jolted out of my trance “please come in Louise.” Gesturing her inside with a wave of my hand.

. . . . . .

Claire’s first session passed by in a blur, unable to shake the image of the man in the waiting area. Louise had been eager to tell her story and to discuss her issues, so needed very little encouraging; meaning the moments for Claire to speak or provide input rarely presented themselves.

This allowed for her to escape into her mind, delving in to find the image of him; the red haired man with his piercing blue eyes. He was burned there in her mind, sure to scar and leave its mark.

When the session had concluded she was embarrassed with herself, for focusing on a man rather than her patient, it was beyond unprofessional. For the sentiment of it, she was also disappointed that she hadn’t even bothered to pay attention to the significance of the first patient crossing the threshold of her office.

She knew she had to forget this man and simply carry on as though she had never noticed him.

To ease her conscience she began to take notes on her session with Louise, thankfully Louise hadn’t had any inclination of Claire's mental absence, seeming more relieved to have someone to listen to her problems.

Louise was pregnant, not with her husbands child, but with her lovers, this presented her with a number of difficult choices to make.

Claire noted that she would need to help Louise come to a conclusion about exactly what she wanted, and then address the different ideas for change.

. . . . . .

The last patient exited at 5:30pm. The hours had crawled by and Claire was ready to blow off the steam of her first day, and was sincerely hoping that Joe had the same thought in mind.

She turned towards the practice kitchen, opening each cupboard and drawer, attempting to will a bottle of whiskey into existence.

In her search she had failed to notice Joe standing, watching her.

“The liquor is in my office locked in a cabinet, come on Lady Jane.”

Two hours later, and slightly buzzing, Claire had debriefed with Joe, doing her best to conceal the true reason for her agonising day.

Although she knew Joe would understand, she felt far too ashamed to admit any hint of ‘feminine weakness’, choosing to chalk up her poor performance with her first client to nerves.

. . . . . .

Back at my apartment that evening, I resolved to go straight to bed; no reading, no working, just sleeping.

Two hours later, I was still staring at the ceiling despite my exhaustion, so I gave up the idea of sleep and went to sit on the chaise by the window, just as I had done the night before.

I picked up the book I had left there last night, and immediately thought of Louise. I re-read the passage I had found, and felt like a hypocrite. I had told Louise today that she was the master of her destiny, and uttered many other encouraging words of complete bullshit. But didn’t believe in them, I wasn’t a Freudian, and Skinners books reminded me why, so what had possessed me to abandon my beliefs with my very first patient?

I looked out of the window once again, questioning myself, blue eyes and red hair consuming me without my permission.

Then there he was again; the any season jogger, who ran almost every night and always at the same time, never deterred by snow or rain.

I admired his dedication, and was always impressed by his routine. On the nights that he ran, he wore the same black tracksuit, hood up, was gone for forty minutes and always returned with a coffee from the same shop.

He disappeared into his building, the one directly opposite mine, and one minute later the light in his sixth floor apartment came on.

I watched as he drew his curtains shut, and decided that my bed was where I needed to return. I fell asleep quickly, my last thoughts whirling around were of the jogger in black and those intense, deep blue eyes.

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