#we both took classes on roman history in college | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

talayse · 1 year ago

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Okay, I've been thinking about this all morning, so I'm just going to type it up and send it out into the Tumblrvoid and be done with it.

Last night I came across and post about how high school teachers really didn't seem to teach their students what plagiarism is aside from straight up copying verbatim someone else's work, with a reblog under it about how high school teacher's don't seem to be teaching kids how to write. (I'm going to try to find that post, I don't remember who's blog it was on, but I will put a link in this post and reblog this underneath if I find it.)

And, yes, to both.

Now, I graduated high school 20 years ago, so this experience is technically outdated, but in someways I think it may have only gotten worse. For context I attended a high school with a high student population in a rural US mid-Atlantic state. (We were also the school neighboring towns sent their high school students to because they didn't have enough kids to have their own school.)

I often deplore the quality of the education I received, and I had my share of good teachers and truly awful teachers through my years of K-12 in the US public education system, but I have to say the worst teachers were the high school teachers. I don't know if they were all simply burnt out, going through the motions, or truly thought they were doing a good job. I had an honors biology teacher that once handed us a list of the bones in the human body at the end of a class, told us to memorize it for a quiz the next day. We never talked about bones before that or after. There was no context, no discussion about the difference in endoskeleton or exoskeleton (didn't even cover that). Nothing. I think we all failed that test. I think the teacher was merely checking "skeleton" off his list so he could get back to trying to gross us out about algae in ice cream, his favourite pastime.

Which brings me to the "teaching students to write" topic.

In high school we pretty much only did two kinds of writing (unless you took creative writing or journalism, which, have some stories there too, but I digress). These were the 5 paragraph essay and the "10" page "research" paper.

The 5 paragraph essay was what was assigned most often and required absolutely NO research, and I believe was largely the provenance of English teachers. And this was what we received the most guidance on. The 5 paragraph essay, for those unfamiliar, is written as such:

Paragraph 1: Tell me what you are going to tell me. Paragraph 2-4: Tell me. Paragraph 5: Tell me what you told me

Teachers always assigned a topic for this, and it was generally something along the lines of "A proposed new law would require all cars to be painted yellow. Argue for or against." That was it. I can do those in my sleep. There was clear structure, and a topic and instructions.

The "10" page "research" paper on the other hand, I was always stymied by. In 4 years of high school, I only had to do 2 of them thankfully (as opposed to dozens and dozens of 5 paragraph essays). (Thinking back on it, I think history teachers assigned them, and I only had history three times and the last year I took an A level class not Honors. Maybe A levels didn't even do them (which if so, that's a large population of students not even being taught bad skills,) I know I was just about the only student that passed that A level class.) The "10" page "research" paper was something that the teacher always made sound like a big deal we should be scared of, but they were doing in order to help us in college. I was mostly perplexed by them. The guidelines the teacher gave us were thus:

-Pick a topic. -Come up with a hypothesis about that topic and PROVE it. -Format the paper correctly. This was explained in detail. There must be a cover page, it must by typed, ten pages, double spaced in Times New Roman only, twelve point font. You must cite three references at least*, and have a bibliography formatted as so (example provided).

The teacher would then arrange for us to have ONE class period in the high school library (which I think last purchased books in 1940.) And that was it. We received more information on formatting than anything else. I should mention there was no time in the school day to access the library without a teacher taking you as a class. The town's library was a short walk up the road, but if you missed the last after school bus home, someone had to pick you up. This was a rural town, no public transportation and most teens did not get their license until 17.

I always struggled with both choosing a topic that I could "prove" a hypothesis for, as I always associated "hypothesis" with asking a question in science, and any good scientist will tell you that proving or disproving is equally valid.

They never had us read a sample paper (or two, one good, one not so good, spot the difference), or gave us an idea of what a good topic and "hypothesis" was. Or how to find that. It was the equivalent of giving you something to assemble but no tools to do it with. And our "research" was entirely reading other people's research and regurgitating it, obviously high school students wouldn't be using primary sources, but I never felt like I was researching, I always felt I was using other people's work.

I was (and still am) very shy. Asking the teacher to be less vague was not an option. I winged two papers, did well enough on them, but I still do not understand what the teachers were looking for. With more life experience, and some vicarious college experience, I have found that even if you DO your own primary research, you still have to reference research people have made before you to justify your conclusions or I suppose, show how they were wrong. In fact a Master's level thesis that I help edit, the professor seemed to want the writer to say, "This is what I found out, this is how it relates to this aspect of the field and this is an established "expert" who found something similar." If it wasn't written that way, with reference to those "experts" it was no good, however, the references were always cited footnotes, something we did not do in high school. The professor did not seem to want the writer to draw their own conclusions (only agree with "experts") which was maddening.

If those high school teachers had said to me, "I want you to write a ten page paper on the Great Wall of China, why it was built, did it work and is it still relevant today?" I probably would have been less frustrated and probably written 20 pages. That's a solid purpose, there's clear guidance outside of the formatting. They really spent about 80% of the instruction time on the formatting which they gave us a reference for! I think I always felt I had to come to some new conclusion, solve a mystery, because otherwise I was just plagiarizing other people's research.

Can you tell I am still really frustrated by this?

TL:DR, no high school teachers are not teaching kids how to research, how to write and how to not to plagiarize beyond "don't copy word for word". They are throwing us in the pool of research without teaching us to swim, and letting us sink or swim.

*Keep in mind this was 1999-2003, IF people had a home computer it was a shared desktop. My first "research" paper was typed on a Brother Word Processor that had very little internal memory (anything you did you did on a floppy disk), a printer that was basically an electric type writer and no double space option. My second was written on a refurbished Macintosh that was third hand and crashed constantly. I still save continuously as I type things because of this. It also had a printer that sometimes worked, but I couldn't bring the paper into school on floppy to be printed as they only had PCs. I think my mom had to call the school and a teacher printed it for me at home.

**All 3 references had to be books, or newspapers, etc. If you used an internet source you had to back it up with hard copy resource. In the early Aughts the internet was considered an unreliable resource. Do mull that over. Ask yourself if that is still true today.

#plagiarism #plagiarism scandal #us public education #learning #education #high school

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hellenhighwater · 5 years ago

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In my freshman year of high school, we had a new history teacher. His name was Mr. Taylor, and he was ridiculously hot. He was just out of college--this was his first teaching job--and he was one of those people that you look at and think “shouldn’t you be modelling somewhere?” On top of being gorgeous, he was also kind, funny, a great teacher, and a huge Lord of the Rings nerd, and the student body worshiped him.

This was a small, private school, and there were only two sections of freshman World History, and he taught both of them. He constantly complained that one section was ahead of the other. As the year progressed, the gap between the two sections widened--as midterms approached, one section was in the medieval period and the other was still lagging at the end of the Roman empire.

Both sections were meant to sit the same exam, so he couldn’t just move up the midterm and have one class sit it first. He needed to get both classes into the same time period.

So for the week before midterms, he hurried the slower class into the middle ages, and went in to depth with the other. He discussed battles in detail, drew regional maps on the white board, and even diagrammed the lineage of the king of Noldor. The class, of course, took diligent notes and asked questions. Everyone wanted to impress him and did their best to learn the material.

During the last class before the midterm, he reviewed the material he’d taught for most of the term, but didn’t touch on any of the things he’d been teaching for the last week.

Finally, one student asked if any of the stuff he’d been teaching for the last week was going to be on the exam.

“No,” he said, “The contents of the Silmarillion will not be on the exam.”

There was a moment of silence while everyone sat there, confused. Someone eventually went “...what??”

Mr. Taylor grinned. “Yeah, I needed to keep you guys busy while the other class caught up, so for the last week I’ve just been teaching Lord of the Rings history. I can’t believe none of you noticed. You need to pay more attention to geography.”

The class was, unsurprisingly, outraged. Mr. Taylor just laughed.

#storytime with hell #Mr taylor was honestly great #he actually put an extra credit question about LOTR on the exam

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poisonedapples · 3 years ago

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Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids - Chapter Three

New School and Friendships

Chapter Summary: Roman has his first day in a new district while some bonds are strengthened.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Warnings: Past abuse mentions, mentions of hidden cameras, anxiety, some bullying, crying, and food mentions

Chapter Word Count: 5,860

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258

“Hey, dad?”

“Yeah?” Roman’s dad turned to face him. Roman felt his whole body start to shake.

“You know how you said that��I could ask for anything from you? Since, uh- since you didn’t know what present to get me last time?”

His dad smiled in a way so normal it was disturbing. “Got an idea?”

“Yeah, uh…I want a canopy bed.”

His dad’s face dropped, and Roman could feel the anxiety and regret bloom through his chest. “You know why I can’t do that, Roman.”

“Please? I know it’s probably a bit much to replace my whole bed frame, but I could make my own canopy for cheaper! I’ve already looked at a bunch of ways online how, I just need you to buy the materials-”

“It’s a no.” Roman’s dad looked angry, and Roman would’ve done anything to run the other direction at that moment. To burst out the door and never come back. “Nice try, Roman, but I’m not stupid. Come back when you have a better idea.”

Roman blinked to fight back the tears. “…I’m sorry.”

“Go back to your room.”

Roman ran up the stairs as fast as he could, wishing more than anything that there was a lock on his door. Instead, Roman took his desk chair and propped it against the knob for some kind of security, curling into the corner of his room as he shook and tugged at his hair.

He tried to block out the knowledge of the security camera on his shelf, hidden well but not well enough, pointed right at his bed.

***

Several fast knocks came onto Roman’s bedroom door, waking him up with a jerk. He groggily pushed open the curtain in front of his head to grab his phone and look at the time. Six o’clock on the dot, it read. Ugh.

The knocking on the door didn’t stop, and Roman whined. “What?” He called out.

“Get dressed, we need to leave the house by 6:30.” He heard Logan call back.

“Fine, fine.” Roman pushed the curtains out of the way and practically rolled out of bed, grabbing the clothes he’d organized for himself the night before. He put on a pair of jeans with a white and red t-shirt, nothing fancy but fancy enough for a first day surrounded by strangers. He grabbed his backpack and put his phone and some earbuds in his pocket before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

“Morning, kiddo!” Patton chirped as he made breakfast, “Didja sleep well?”

“Yes, I did.” That was a lie. He had some strange dream where his dad was also there, and he only managed to calm down and fall back asleep an hour ago. He still couldn’t stop thinking about it, even if the dream was hazy now.

“Good to hear! Be ready by 6:30 so I can drive all of you to the school. Then once you get there, you can ask about your schedule at the office.” Patton laid down a plate of bagels with cream cheese and strawberries in front of Roman, so Roman began to eat.

Once he finished his breakfast, Roman rushed back upstairs to style his hair and brush his teeth before they had to leave. As he brushed his teeth, he stared at the shower to the left of him and sighed. He touched his hair, feeling the grease slick onto his fingers.

He really needed to shower. He hadn’t showered since he got here, and with how thick his hair was it was really starting to gross him out. He hated feeling greasy and grimy, but Roman hadn’t checked the bathroom for cameras yet and he refused to shower until he did. Though, he knew that was also just an excuse. Roman also felt too tired to take care of himself.

Just brush your teeth, he thought, they told you that if you can’t shower, at least brush your teeth. Greasy hair can be fixed, cavities are expensive.

He spit out the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed out his mouth. He grabbed some face wash and decided to use it as quickly as he could to hold back the gross feeling he felt. It would help him feel a little cleaner, at least. A little more presentable for the first day.

A loud bang came onto the door. “Roman, hurry up!” Virgil called out, “Some of us need to piss!”

“Just a second!” Roman vigorously splashed water on his face and quickly dried it with a towel, rushing out of the bathroom so that Virgil could run in. He sighed again, walking downstairs to wait on the couch until it was time to go.

“Alrighty, everyone got everything?” Patton eventually asked, making Roman crack open the eyes he didn’t even realize he closed. Patton smiled and clapped his hands together when his response was tired hums of agreement. “Perfect! To the car!”

All three kids bunched themselves together in the back of Patton’s car, Roman and Virgil at the window seats while poor Logan was squished in the middle. Roman squeezed his legs together so he could fit his backpack between Logan and himself, acting as a barrier so Logan couldn’t touch him. It was uncomfortable, but it was what Roman had to do.

“So, Roman, are you excited?” Patton asked, making Roman open his eyes again to look at Patton through the rearview mirror. Roman leaned his head against the window.

“More nervous. I’ve never been to a new school before.”

“Well, hopefully you can make lots of friends here! The school is pretty big, so there are certainly lots of options!” Patton laughed at himself and Roman closed his eyes again.

We’ll see about that.

Eventually, after a failed attempt of getting in some extra minutes of sleep before school, Roman felt the car come to a stop. He opened his eyes and looked out the window to see the front of the large school building, kids with smiling faces talking to each other as they walked inside while others looked tired yet excited. Roman wasn’t feeling it.

“Alright, kiddos, have fun!” Patton exclaimed, “Remember to check in with the office for your schedule, Roman!”

All the kids started to pile out of the car, grabbing their bags off the floor to rush inside. Once they were all out, Patton’s car drove away to head for work.

Roman looked at the building as Logan and Virgil walked inside. It seemed huge compared to his old school, where the county was much more rural than here. They still had twenty minutes until school started and kids were already swarming in from multiple entrances, both from the main entrance and other doors connected around the building. Roman walked inside and held his arms close to himself, desperate not to be shoved around by the other students.

The office was fairly easy to find, considering there was a giant sign over the door in bold, white letters reading Office. Roman opened the door and stepped inside to get in line, feeling a little bit better that he wasn’t the only student having first day issues. The line shrank very quickly until it was Roman’s turn to ask questions, being faced with an old lady who could either be very sweet or the rudest person in the building. Roman could never tell.

“Uh, I’m a new kid at this school, and my guardian told me to come here to get my schedule?” Roman asked.

“Name.” Okay, well, rude it was, then.

“Roman Goldsberry.”

The desk worker didn’t respond, only typed something on her computer and didn’t make eye contact. “Next door to your left of that entrance is the counselor’s office. Your counselor is Mrs. Walters and she’ll call for you shortly.”

“Okay, thank you.” Roman had never scurried out of an office so quickly in his life. So much for a great first impression.

In the other office, Roman sat on a waiting chair and awkwardly glanced at all the college items they had hung up on the walls, waiting until his name would be called. The school day hasn’t even started yet, what’s taking them so long?

Roman drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair and waited. There was a lot of college stuff in this room. Granted, high school’s whole thing was trying to take you to college, his old school was the exact same. And he should really start thinking about that stuff since he’s a sophomore now. He only had two more years left after this, but it’s not like he could go anyway. He wasn’t even supposed to graduate high school, let alone college.

Besides, his dream was stupid anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“Roman Goldsberry?” A voice called out, taking Roman out of his thoughts. Roman stood up to follow the counselor into her office.

“I’m Mrs. Walters, and it’s nice to meet you Roman!” She said cheerily as she sat at her desk with Roman sitting right in front of her. “Your schedule was a bit last minute to pull together, but I tried my hardest based on your last school’s transcript and your test scores from last standardized testing. All I need is to schedule some extra electives for you. You have advanced English 12, advanced geometry, advanced biology, and world history. You can also choose Spanish 3 here if you wish to continue that. You also still need your gym credit, so you can take regular PE or strength training. I also have a list of other electives here if you want to look at that.”

“Yeah, I can look.” The counselor handed Roman a paper of all the electives organized by their subject. Well, Roman definitely wanted to continue Spanish, so that choice was easy. Strength training sounded like a fun way to do gym class with less dodgeballs to the face, but it was only a semester long, so he’d need to pick another semester class for the second half of the year. And he could join another painting or drawing class as his last elective, but he’d already taken those at his old school…

Roman gazed at the arts section of the packet, trying to find something he might like. His eyes lit up as he noticed the names of two classes: set design, which was a semester long and sounded magical, and something called sculpture. “What does the sculpture class teach?” Roman asked.

“It’s an art class that teaches you how to sculpt with different things. Like clay, wood, things like that. It’s a very hands-on class if you’re interested.”

Roman smiled. “I want that one then.”

The counselor typed something into her computer. “Have you chosen your other classes?”

“Yes, Spanish 3, set design, and strength training.”

“I’ll put you in strength training for this semester, but next semester you can join the set design class. I’ll email your elective teachers to inform them you’ll be joining their classes, but for now…” The counselor printed off a piece of paper and handed it to Roman. “This is your new schedule. Your first class is English with Ms. Fritz, and her class should be up on the third floor at room 316. Do you think you can make it there?”

“I can, thank you.”

The counselor smiled. “Have a nice first day.”

Roman walked off to head toward his first class, going up two flights of stairs and wandering across half the floor before he finally found his classroom. Thankfully, the halls were full of students desperately trying to locate their classrooms, so Roman didn’t feel as weird. He eventually stumbled upon the correct room number after checking multiple hallways and trying to follow their scattered number system. He looked at the door with a paper rabbit and a book with a phrase reading hop into a good book, and could guess immediately what type of teacher this would be.

Roman pushed open the half-cracked door and stepped inside.

The dozen kids who were already sitting stared at him when he walked in, but quickly resumed their conversations shortly after. Roman glanced at an empty seat off in the middle row near the other end of the class and moved to sit down in it. He looked around at the other kids off in their own worlds, with no one to get excited to see him and strike up a conversation. He was sitting alone in a class where it seemed like no one else was.

Roman got bored quickly with no one to talk to, drumming his fingers on the table and starting to daydream instead.

The long lost princess with the power to see into the future is forced to hide in protected wilderness, Roman thought, picking up from an old story idea he’s had for a while. Can’t have a teen novel without an orphan, so she lives with a guardian healer instead. Then, she needs a trusty companion to not only start her adventures, but to assist her alongside them. Perhaps he could be a peasant boy born with more magic power than the normal peasant has? It sure would be interesting. Or maybe, he’s not a trustworthy companion at all! What if he’s using the princess to promote his own selfish ideals? But as the story goes on, they actually become close friends and he has an intense internal conflict as he turns into the antagonist! Then maybe-

“Alright class, I think it’s been late enough for us to start!” Roman tried not to be aggravated at the teacher for interrupting him. The teacher stood at the front of the class with a wide smile. “I’m Ms. Fritz, but of course I’m sure a lot of you already know that since you had me last year. I teach all grade levels for advanced English, so if you keep down this path you might stick with me until graduation! Now normally, teachers will start their first day with class expectations, maybe a rubric or a supplies list, but I have a better idea! How about we travel across the class and try to get to know each other better? I can pass around a ball, and if you catch the ball, you have to share three fun facts about you!”

A sense of dread filled into Roman after hearing that. He usually didn’t mind games like this since it was a mindless way to pass the time, but he didn’t have any friends to pass him the ball anymore. Was he just going to sit there until the end? Sounded awkward, no thank you.

“I think,” Ms. Fritz said with her hand gripping her chin in thought, “I’m going to start with the new kid.”

Roman perked his head up as all the other kids turned to him. Well, that was unexpected.

Ms. Fritz tossed Roman the ball, and thankfully he caught it without making a fool of himself. The teacher smiled at him encouragingly as he stood up, looking around at all the kids waiting for him to talk. What should I even say?

“Can you say your name first?” Ms. Fritz asked.

“Well…I’m Roman. Uh, I like to paint, I’m half french, and…” Roman tried to think. What else was interesting about him? Something that shared a lot about him as a person?

Quickly, it dawned on him. One idea that I could possibly share, he thought. Well, it’s a bit invasive, but they’re all looking at me. So whatever.

He took a deep breath in. “…I’m a foster kid.”

When Roman admitted that, all the kids seemed to be more interested in him, leaning closer as their eyes widened. It was the first time Roman ever said it aloud, and it was so strange to hear coming from his mouth. He was a foster kid. That was an important part of his identity now.

He didn’t know how he felt about it.

“You’re half french?” Ms. Fritz pulled Roman out of his thoughts with that question. “Do you know any french?”

“I’m fluent.”

“That’s so cool! Can you say something in French for us?”

Roman seemed to think about it. “Quelque chose.”

Ms. Fritz blinked. “Well, I hope it was appropriate to say in a classroom. When did you move here, Roman?”

“Like…four days ago. Very recently.”

“You only got added to my roster last night, so I believe you! How about you pass the ball to another kid now?”

Roman looked around the room awkwardly before making eye contact with a random girl and tossing her the ball. He sat back down and only paid half his attention to what the other kids were saying. Well, at least he didn’t have to wait awkwardly anymore.

The rest of the class went like that. It seemed like a lot of these kids were students that Ms. Fritz had in the past, as well as being students that were also close friends with each other. They talked a lot and made lots of jokes with the teacher, and they seemed really close, which Roman understood since he was the same with his old group of advanced kids. The extra conversation dragged the game out longer than it probably should have been, but Roman didn’t mind. He didn’t want to actually work or anything anyway.

Eventually, the game ended, and the last kid tossed the ball to Ms. Fritz. “Alright,” she said, “That game dragged out longer than I thought it would, but that’s fine! The bells are shorter the first few days anyway. We only have a couple minutes left, so talk amongst yourself if you want, I don’t care. The assembly should be after your fourth bell for the sophomores, so don’t let your teachers forget!”

All the students turned around to talk to the kids around them. Roman simply watched their conversations with no one to talk to himself, realizing how all the new kids at his old school must have felt. It was like looking in from the outside, where no one else could see you. Roman was just…there.

“Hey,” the kid in front of him turned around to face Roman. Roman almost jumped at the sudden attention. “What’s your name again?”

“Oh, Roman. Roman Goldsberry.” Roman turned to sit properly in his seat and leaned in closer. This was a good start! He seems nice, maybe I can make a friend!

“Roman Goldsberry!” He mocked, turning to his other friends to laugh. “That’s such a pretentious name. And very American sounding, by the way. I thought you were French?”

Roman’s shoulders sagged. Nevermind. Eight in the morning on my first day, and apparently I’ve made an enemy before a friend. “I’m half french, not fully french.”

The kid turned to his friends and made a face at them before they all laughed. Roman felt his blood boil.

“So your dad is the American?” The kid asked.

“Yes.” Roman hoped his sharp tone would help them realize not to mess with him.

“Are you close with your dad?”

Roman froze, and the group of kids turned to each other to make faces at each other again. He really didn’t see what was so funny. Who asks a complete stranger a question like that out of the blue?

Before Roman could snap and tell the kid to mind his own damn business, another kid from the other side of the room scoffed. “Mitchell.”

“What? I’m just asking!”

The other kid opened their mouth to retaliate, but a loud and obnoxious bell went off before they could. Kids started to get up to rush to their next class, and Roman joined them. The sooner he got away from Mitchell (who had no right to bully Roman for his name when he was called Mitchell), the better.

Roman rushed out into the hall and hyper focused on the schedule in his hands. World history, room 203. The next floor down.

Roman was so occupied in trying to find a flight of stairs, he didn’t notice the kid trying to catch up to him.

***

The rest of Roman’s day wasn’t half as eventful as his first bell. History class had a chill teacher, which was nice, then next was his strength training class. His teacher was a little confused when he showed up but was happy to have Roman on board. He seemed very strict with his class rules though, and Roman hated that considering one of his rules was they had to change into gym clothes. Which meant Roman had to wear gym shorts.

…Well, guess he’d have to get used to wearing multiple pairs of boxers again.

Besides that, he also got lost on his way to sculpture, so he showed up ten minutes late telling this random teacher he was her student now. At least she didn’t seem bothered. After that, they all went to the sophomore assembly where they were told the school rules and updates, which Roman’s pretty sure he was the only kid who actually listened. Then, after the assembly, Roman went to the cafeteria to eat a lunch that Patton packed him. He hadn’t actually brought a packed lunch to school in years, so the sentiment was…strange.

Not that Roman would complain about an edible lunch, though.

Roman looked around the cafeteria for a place to sit. The place was starting to become crowded as more students got out of line for buying lunch, so Roman needed to find a spot fast. It’d be easier if he made a friend to sit with, but after the morning Mitchell incident, Roman hadn’t cared to try again in his other classes.

That’s when Roman spotted him. A kid with thick glasses eating a fruit cup as he worked on some papers next to him, completely ignoring the world to finish some homework. Roman wasn’t exactly close with his foster brothers, but hey, maybe Logan could prove himself a little useful. He had to be lonely too, right?

Roman took his chance and sat across from Logan. Logan didn’t look up from his papers. “Hey there, nerd!”

Logan glanced an eye toward Roman. He focused back on his work. “Hello.”

“How’s your first day of high school going?”

It took Logan a solid minute before he responded. “It’s going alright. I got unlucky with a teacher of mine, who already gave us a homework packet for the week, so I’m trying to get a head start on it.”

“Really? What teacher?”

“Mr. Owens, he’s the more strict teacher of the two that teach medical technology.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Medical technology? That’s a class here?”

“Yes. I had to do a lot of things last year to get into it, however. It’s part of the intensive medical learning path. However, the extra work is necessary.”

“…Right. What other classes are you in?”

“Advanced biology, advanced geometry, advanced English, medical tech as I just mentioned, German 2, health, and painting.”

Roman tilted his head to the side. “Wait, I thought most of those were sophomore classes?”

“And I took freshman classes my eighth grade year. Your point?”

Roman blinked. “…Fair enough.”

Roman brought out his own sandwich and ate it in awkward silence. Logan seemed so focused on his paper that he wasn’t saying a word, and trying to spark conversation with him when he was like this was next to impossible. He felt like he was intruding by sitting next to Logan, the air feeling thick for a reason Roman couldn’t quite place. Once he finished his sandwich, Roman had enough.

“I think…” Roman said, “I’m going to sit…somewhere else.”

Logan didn’t react. “Alright.”

Roman stood up and awkwardly shuffled to an empty spot at a table on the other side of the cafeteria, placing down his lunch box and trying again. Well, he thought as he opened up a cheese stick wrapper, better get used to being alone, then.

“Hey, excuse me?”

Roman looked up at the voice while he was mid-bite. It was the same kid who scolded Mitchell back in his English class, tired circles under their eyes and a gray sweater on despite it being August. Though, Roman had been freezing in most of his classes today, so maybe this person had the right idea.

“Oh- I’m sorry, were you sitting here?” Roman asked.

“No, you’re fine, I just…” The kid looked side to side anxiously. “…Mind if I sit with you?”

“…Oh! No, I don’t mind at all.”

The kid smiled and set their lunchtray across from Roman. “Thanks. I’m Elliott by the way, they/them pronouns.”

Roman’s brain took a minute to process what they meant. “Uh, hello! I’m Roman…he/him?”

Elliott seemed to get happier when he said that. “Nice to meet you. How’s your first day been so far? Besides for you-know-who this morning.”

Roman laughed. “Well, aside from that uncalled for mess, it’s been quite normal. I got lost a few times, but that’s not new for me. My teachers seem quite alright so far.”

“That’s good to hear. We have a lot of good teachers, I think, unless they teach calculus, then they have some serious issues. But so long as you don’t act like an idiot it’s easy to get past those teachers.”

“I’ll keep that in mind! Hopefully I stay on this hot streak, though.” Roman took out a water bottle from his lunch and started to drink it. “But it’s the students I’m more worried about. They all seem so off on their own. Or just outright rude like that guy this morning.”

Elliott groaned, leaning his head on his hand and slouching. “I’m really sorry about him. He can be a huge jerk for no reason. I think he’s just itching for a fight.”

“You seem to know him quite well. Old friend or something?” Roman asked.

Elliott groaned again. “…He’s my ex.”

“…No offense to your type or anything, but…ew.”

“Oh no, yeah, dating him was definitely an ew,” Elliot sighed. “We broke up like, four times in the span of a year and a half. It was a mess. Eventually, over the summer I broke up with him for good. I think he’s still upset about that and taking it out on the first easy target he finds. That, and he’s a jerk.”

“Well, he’ll soon learn I’m not one to be described as an easy target.” Roman gave a cocky smile and posed.

The bell sounded off again, and all the students stood up from their tables and started to swarm the trash cans and cafeteria exits. Roman and Elliott gave each other a look as they also stood up.

“So…what class do you have next?” Elliott asked nervously.

“Let’s see…” Roman pulled out the schedule from his pocket and looked at it. “Advanced biology with Mr. Weber.”

Elliott’s eyes lit up. “Me too! Uh…wanna walk together then? I can show you where it is.”

Roman smiled. “Of course!”

The two kids headed down the stairs, talking more and laughing long after they sat down in the class and the bell rang. Roman continued to whisper to Elliott during class until the teacher gave them both a warning glance, shutting their mouths but smiling at each other.

Even as Roman tried to pay attention, he felt a weight lift from his chest.

He’d obtained a friend after all!

***

The entire bus drive home, Roman spent it texting Elliott’s number that they’d given him right after biology ended. He talked about his last two classes and listened to Elliott ramble about his bad luck with classmates this year, grinning to himself with his eyes glued to his screen until his stop came. Virgil banged his fist on Roman’s seat to get his attention, making him jump and stand up to get off with Virgil and Logan.

During the walk home, no one said anything. Roman was off in his own world and Virgil just looked tired, with Logan staring intently at his own shoes as he walked. Virgil unlocked the door for them all to come inside, and they all branched off into their different directions. Virgil got a snack from the kitchen while Roman and Logan ran up to their rooms.

Roman spent a lot of his time in his room now that he’d gotten the curtains around his bed. Lying there was a lot softer than hiding on the bathroom floor with his legs propped up, and Roman was still confused as to how he managed to get away with installing this. He’d have to make sure Patton never entered his room again in case he planned to rip the curtains off their hooks.

He’d have to make a plan to effectively keep him out.

But for now, Roman actually needed to talk to Patton as soon as possible. He needed to ask for gym clothes, since that was the only thing Roman still needed to get for class, and he wanted to get it over with so Roman wouldn’t need to keep worrying about it. He was almost certain Patton had come home half an hour ago, but Roman just ignored him and stayed in his room. But he had to take advantage of the fact that he was remembering to ask for the clothes, so there was no time like the present to go find him.

Roman hopped out of bed and exited his room, making his way downstairs to the living room. He figured Patton would be either watching TV or doing something in the kitchen, but when Roman looked around, he didn’t see him anywhere. Virgil was sprawled across the couch on his phone, but no one else was around. Roman put his hands on his hips.

“Where’s Patton?” He asked Virgil.

Virgil didn’t look up. “Upstairs. In his room I think.”

Roman groaned and stomped back upstairs. He hated going into an adult’s room, so he instead opened the door and poked his head in so he wouldn’t have to step inside. But before he could get a word out to Patton, Roman stopped himself.

Patton was sitting on his bed with the lights dimmed, his back resting in the headboard, but what shocked Roman was that Logan was there also. He had his face hidden in Patton’s neck as Patton rubbed his back and played with his hair, holding him tight to his chest while Logan sniffled. Roman had never seen Logan emote before, so watching him cry was…disturbing. Roman wanted to run over and rip Logan from Patton to protect him.

Patton looked at Roman in the doorway and smiled. “You gotta remember to knock before entering, kiddo. What do you need?”

Roman forgot the main reason he came here. “Is Logan okay?”

Patton looked down at Logan and whispered something in his ear. Whatever Patton said, Logan agreed with a quiet nod of his head. Patton rubbed at Logan’s neck in a way that made Roman’s skin crawl as Patton began to speak. “He’ll be okay, kiddo. He’s just a little overwhelmed from school today. Do you need anything?”

Roman took a step inside Patton’s bedroom. It made his whole body shift into fight or flight, but he couldn’t leave Logan alone with him in good conscience. “I just wanted to say I need to buy gym clothes by next Wednesday. I’m in a strength training class this semester.”

Patton smiled. “That’s fine, we can go shopping this weekend.”

Roman looked down at the floor. “Well…I was more thinking, like…I go into the store while you wait in the car.”

Patton raised an eyebrow at him. “I need to buy the clothes, kiddo.”

“You can just give me the money. I’ll stay within the budget and give you any left over, so…please?”

Patton’s face dropped a little, but he didn’t get angry, so Roman considered that a win. “Sure, kiddo. We’ll do that Sunday.”

Even after the conversation seemed to end, Roman still stood near the door, shifting on his feet awkwardly. Patton shifted his eyes between Logan and Roman as if he was analyzing both of their mental states, but Roman’s throat felt stuck as he tried to bring out the words he wanted to say. He was so scared, but he couldn’t force himself to ask the question he knew he needed to ask now. Yet his feet refused to make a run for it out the door despite his fear.

“Do you need something else, kiddo?” Patton lightly prompted. Roman attempted to swallow the rock he felt in his throat.

“Can I…Can I stay with you and Logan?” He hated it, but he had to do it. He didn’t know what Patton would try when Logan was vulnerable.

Patton looked down at Logan, and Logan nodded. Patton turned to smile again. “You can if you want, Logan doesn’t mind.”

Roman carefully walked to the other side of the bed, sitting as far as possible from Patton but keeping his eyes glued to Logan. He knew he wasn’t helping much, not saying a word and not even being close, but it was something Roman had to do. Just because him and Logan weren’t close didn’t mean he’d leave him in danger. Even if Roman felt stuck in his head and couldn’t find the power to move his arms.

Roman sat there for a while, watching Logan’s chest rise as Patton rubbed his back. It felt like ages before Logan’s chest slowed and he fell asleep on top of Patton, somehow not caring at all about being asleep in Patton’s presence. Roman’s heart ached for him. He was too trusting and innocent for his own good.

“I gotta do some chores,” Patton whispered, “So I’m gonna tuck him in and let him nap. Do you still wanna stay with him?”

Roman nodded, not being able to get the words out himself. He felt stuck as Patton lifted Logan up gently, petting his hair to soothe him when he stirred. Roman helped by tugging the covers back from his end of the bed so that Patton could tuck him in and let go of him sooner, his hand on the back of Logan’s leg making Roman anxious. Patton tucked Logan under the covers and watched his reaction. After a few seconds, Patton grabbed a squishy stuffed frog from his bedside table, handing it to Logan who curled around it in his sleep. It’d be cute if Roman wasn’t so worried.

“Tell me if anything happens, okay kiddo?” Patton said right as he was halfway out the bedroom door. Roman nodded, only finally relaxing after Patton left and slowly closed the door.

Roman immediately ran over to lock it. He didn’t have his security bar, but this would be good enough. Hopefully Patton wouldn’t test anything when he knew Roman would be by Logan’s side.

Despite all of Roman’s worries, Logan slept peacefully on the bed. He didn’t shift or seem distressed at all, just snuggling closer to Patton’s stuffed frog and resting. Logan was calm.

Roman sat on the floor to block the door and watched to make sure no one took that away from him.

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lumosinlove · 3 years ago

Text

Between Fifth and You

(cw in tags)

chapter one

“Olives or twist?”

Sirius had to watch the barkeep’s mouth to make out the words beneath the pounding music, which meant Sirius caught the way his eyes skittered across his face almost fearfully. The sheer amount of obsidian in this place probably did nothing to lighten his features. Not to mention, few people knew how to look him in the eye.

“Twist,” he said.

The man nodded and flipped the bottle of gin until it dipped into a shot glass, the glass into the ice. Sirius watched until he was stirring the bitters in and a hand appeared on his shoulder, lips to his neck.

“Burn this,” Saint said, and plucked at Sirius’ shirt sleeve, rubbing the black material between his fingers. Sirius raised an eyebrow as he turned. Saint’s own shirt was unbuttoned half way down his hard chest, light brown skin warm in the flashing club lights. “You’ve worn it too many times.”

“Hello to you, too,” Sirius said. “I like this shirt.”

“I liked it two months ago,” Saint replied. “It’s September now, your highness.”

Sirius scoffed as the bartender slid him his drink.

“You gonna tell everyone the sun did that?” Sirius took a clean sip of gin with one hand and stroked his other through Saint’s gold curls, only suddenly some of the slightly course strands were almost white.

Saint’s grin turned coy. “Isn’t it nice to have a mystery to think about?”

“Oh, yeah, do blonds have more fun?”

“You wouldn’t know.”

The music kicked up a beat that Sirius felt through his spine.

“Why do we always come here?” he leaned a hip against the bar. “We have an entire city.”

“Yeah, fuck the rest of the world, we have one whole city.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Saint shook his head. “Because that’s what we do. You see that guy over there? I’ve taken him out four times. Couldn’t tell you his name. They couldn’t tell you mine.”

“Everyone knows your name, Saint.”

Saint grinned. “Maybe. But why do we go back to each other? Because we’re creatures of fucking habit.” Saint cocked his head, stole Sirius’ drink. “And what is this city but a bad, bad habit?”

Sirius’ blood cooled and he looked away.

What am I, Sirius? said the familiar voice from his memory. Am I easy? Am I safe? Do you want me, or am I just familiar now?

He closed his eyes against the memory of his reply.

Bad habit indeed.

XOXO

Spotted—a familiar face from the past. What has this train brought in? Thanks to a tip from @magicinthemaking, I bring you this picture of none other than Remus Lupin (and a certain Southern bell we know and love) under Grand Central’s stars. We missed you, Re—how was England? Or was it Europe?

The rumors can never seem to decide, but why the sudden change in plans to take his Junior year abroad? Here we were thinking he wanted nothing more than to stay.

I wonder how another certain star will feel about this sudden homecoming. And just in time for senior year’s Fall semester, too.

XOXO.

Remus adjusted his suitcase, glad he’d mailed so many of his things home. He’d been on U.S. soil for all of three hours, and he already missed Rome. He wanted to walk down the tiny staircase from his billet family’s apartment and get a cappuccino. He wanted to stand on the drain of the Pantheon and soak up the sheer history in the air.

He already wanted a break.

But he also wanted to see Julian. Sometimes it felt like the only thing pulling him back home was seeing his baby brother’s grin in real life rather than across a Facetime call.

“All good?”

Remus looked up at Leo. His blond hair was still bleached a bright blond from the Roman sun. Their program had ended in May, but Remus was glad they had stayed together. He hadn’t been looking for Leo—for someone to kiss for the first time in the rose garden at the top of the Aventine Hill while Leo told him about its past as a cemetery.

It’s footpaths are laid out like a Minorah, see? Leo had pointed out. To remember. 300 different types of roses isn’t enough. But I like to come here.

Remus thought it had been Leo’s love for history, and his respect, too, that had drawn him in. They both came from a world where the biggest thing most people cared about was what they’d wear to the next party, and who was bringing their next drink.

Remus hadn’t been able to believe his luck, as fragile as his heart was still.

“Yeah,” Remus nodded. “All good.”

But he wasn’t sure. They hadn’t been friends here, in the city, or at Hogwarts. It had been Rome. Remus didn’t know what their old lives would do to them. But he took Leo’s hand and watched the way Leo fingered the star he wore around his neck, the way he shot Remus his dimpled smile.

“Come on,” Remus said. “I want you to meet Julian.”

XOXO

Good morning Upper East Siders—Gossip Girl here. All trends point to Fall’s Hogwartsers coming back in Black—in more ways than one. Sirius Black’s got a baby brother on campus now, and after another wild summer for the Hogwarts College elite, count me in with the rest of them on wondering what to expect. Rumor is he’s not much like our favorite star.

“You don’t have to talk to me, you know.”

Sirius kept his eyes on his eggs and toast. “Your missing your tie. Mom said—”

“What do you care?” Regulus replied. “I hear when she used to make you wear one it usually ended up around some other guy’s neck by ten in the morning.”

“If you’re going to believe everything you read on Gossip Girl about me, then maybe I won’t talk to you.”

Regulus smirked. “So, you read it, too.”

“Boys.”

Both brothers went back to their breakfasts.

“Good morning, mom,” Sirius said.

Walburga Black smiled with her painted lips, resting a hand on Sirius’ shoulder and bending to kiss his cheek.

“Don’t you both look handsome for your first day. Although that leather jacket has seen better days, Sirius. Do what you want for dinner, ask Chef, I don’t care. I’ll be at the House.”

The House. The House of Black, his mother’s million dollar fashion industry.

“Fine,” Regulus nodded, and rose. “I’ll take the first car.”

Sirius rolled his eyes again. “Really?”

Regulus just snatched up his backpack.

Saint, James, and Thomas were waiting for him on one of the courtyard tables when Sirius got out of the Escalade. It certainly felt like a first day of a semester. Saint’s neck dripped in gold necklaces—a story behind each one. Thomas, who had replaced his short braids with a closely shaved head, wore a white t-shirt and ripped up jean shorts, gold nose-ring glinting in the sun. James had evidently been helped out by Lily, as usual, a green, tight-fitting Henley shirt bunched up at his elbows. The two flanked Saint, who basked on top of the stone table, head tilted back to bare his throat in a way that made Sirius think of last night, in the back of the bar. He could see a purplish mark he had left there.

“You’re looking surprisingly chipper,” James said when Sirius reached Hogwarts’ courtyard.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, knowing he didn’t. “I’m not failing any classes yet, James.”

His friends went oddly silent. Sirius looked around at them, spreading his hands in confusion. Saint wouldn’t look at him, expression going oddly stoney. Thomas, finally, offered him his phone, biting his lip. Sirius took it.

His heart leapt to his throat. He didn’t even bother reading the Instagram caption. Remus loomed out at him from the phone screen.

“Leo Knut,” Saint said. “Who would have thought.”

Sirius cleared his throat and turned away from the picture—from Remus and Leo’s clasped hands.

“Why wouldn’t I be chipper?” he said again, and ignored their unconvinced expressions. “I’ve got class.”

Under his desk while he waited for the rest of the class to show, Sirius pulled out his phone and opened Instagram.

XOXO

Remus approached campus slowly. He felt like he didn’t know anyone anymore, even if he knew that wasn’t true. He thought he saw James from afar, but Lily and Kasey didn’t have class today.

Really, Remus didn’t know if he had many friends that weren’t…shared. That didn’t feel too close to home. Manhattan wasn’t that big of an island.

He looked down at his schedule he’d written out on his phone.

The 19th Century Novel - Hogsmeade R#302.

He made his way to the Hogsmeade building and climbed the spiral staircase quickly. It all felt too industrial, too metallic. At least he’d woken up with Leo, who still had the ancient air about him. He didn’t want that bubble to pop.

“Mr. Lupin,” Professor McGonagall beamed when he walked in, and Remus smiled, too at her familiar Scottish drawl. “It’s so very nice to have you back.”

“Hi, Professor. It’s good to be—”

But the words died on Remus’ tongue. He looked out at the small class—just twenty at this high level—and his heart, out of habit it seemed, had leapt at the sight of familiar dark hair.

Uh-oh. Looks like Pyramus and Thisbe are actually wishing for a wall between them this time.

Sirius’ hair was shorter than it had been at the end of sophomore year, the last time Remus had seen him. He wore a touch of a beard, too, just scruff, really, but it framed his silver eyes like darkness to the stars—two stars, which were zeroed in on Remus.

“Back,” Remus tried to recover, mouth dry. He sent McGonagall a shaky smile, and turned to find a seat, trying not to find those stars again.

He resisted the urge to close his eyes in defeat when he realized that there was only one left. He walked towards Sirius looking ahead and with his heart pounding. Leo. Leo making pancakes for him and Julian this morning. Leo making his little brother laugh. But he could smell the worn leather of Sirius’ jacket. He remembered the feel of it around his own shoulders. Are you cold, baby?

“All righty, then,” McGonagall stood from her chair and leaned against the front of her desk, looking down her spectacles at the attendance sheet. “Looks like we’re all here.”

XOXO

“Well?” Saint asked as Sirius took the joint from between his fingers.

“Sat down next to me,” Sirius said. “Didn’t say a fucking word.”

“Did you say a fucking word?” Saint raised his eyebrows.

Sirius blew out smoke. “No.”

“Well, all right, you fucking hypocrite.”

Sirius looked over at him from where they lay side by side, stretched out in the fading sunshine of Central Park. “I’m keeping this now.”

“No, you’re not. Did you pay for that? I don’t think so.”

Sirius scoffed. “Yeah, like this made a dent in the Montague treasuries.”

Saint laughed, tucking a palm behind his head. Sirius let his eyes linger on the strip of skin where his shirt rode up. He’d kissed that last night, too. It was nice with Saint. He’d been friends with him for longer than he could remember. Saint never looked for more. If Sirius snapped at him, he snapped back and then they laughed about it. Saint wandered through the world loving people freely. He kissed them, or he made them dinner, or he took them for long walks along the river. He showed them his favorite jazz club, or gave them the orgasm of their life, or read to them from his favorite books. He was New York in human form, accepting and inviting, living and breathing.

Sirius wished he was so trusting, even if trust seemed a funny word to apply to Saint.

No one ever got too close to either of them, except the other.

“What are you wearing to your mom’s fashion show?” Saint asked with his eyes closed. “It’s the event of the season.”

“Are you joking? The fittings started in July.”

“Mm, I love that,” Saint grinned, stretching. “Want to come help me decide what I’m wearing? We’re at the Plaza right now, you know that. You know my mother. If it’s not broken, break it. We’re renovating again. We can order champagne to the room.”

“Is that code for make out?”

“Partly. But I will be showing you my outfit choices.”

“Deal.”

XOXO

Remus made it back home seeing no one, but one of the butlers had an envelope with his name on it waiting for him.

“Thanks, Moody,” Remus murmured, but thought briefly about handing it right back to him.

He knew this invitation. He knew its black boarders and heavy stock. It came ever year.

It used to be something they had looked forward to.

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

invites you

TOUJOURS PUR

“Jesus,” Remus breathed, but took it up to his room, checking the time on the way. Julian would still be at school, his parents at work. This apartment was too big for the four of them, not to mention just Remus alone.

His suitcases still lay open and unpacked on his floor, and he kicked at one without looking up.

“So, did you just forget to mention that you were home?”

Remus spun towards his bed, only to find Lily sprawled across it and fiddling with an emerald on a chain.

“I had to find out from Gossip Girl?” Lily shook her head.

Remus slapped the invitation against his thigh. “Wow, wasn’t like that was a surprise present for you or anything.”

Lily smiled, red hair in a thick french braid. “I see green and I know it’s for me. What can I say?”

Remus huffed out a laugh, and she gave a small squeal and pushed off of the bed to wrap him in a hug.

“I’m so happy you’re home, Re.”

He let himself rest his chin in the crook of her neck for a moment. ‘Thanks, Lils.”

She pulled back, hands on his shoulders. “What, no, me too?”

“I am,” he said tentatively. “But I had fun in Rome.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Southern fun?”

“His name is Leo,” Remus said pointedly, then eyed the pile of garment bags piled high on the other side of his bed. “Are those…”

“Pour moi, et pour toi,” Lily patted his cheek. “We have a fashion show to go to, sweetheart.”

XOXO

What do we think, Courtiers? House of Black’s fashion show is the biggest event of the fall. But what on Earth does doe-eyed Remus Lupin have to do within that dark forest now?

Is he a Bambi, or still the wolf we knew?

You know you love me.

XOXO,

Gossip Girl

#between fifth and you lumosinlove #wolfstar #harry potter #gossip girl #Harry Potter x gossip girl #sirius black #remus lupin #cw: mention of sex #cw: drinking #cw: drugs #Harry Potter fic #the marauders #the marauders era #Harry Potter au #woflstar au

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dazai-ism · 3 years ago

Text

bsd college au headcanons

i have so many thoughts on this that it's unbelievable. also, i'm an american, so i'm going to base this on u.s. colleges and universities (i'm so sorry). anyways, here we go

firstly, on dazai and fyodor:

for me, in all bsd modern aus, dazai and fyodor are rivals and begrudging acquaintances-maybe-friends. dazai is a psychology major, and fyodor is a criminology major. they share so many fucking classes together that they can't help but acknowledge each other's existence

that being said: they constantly battle for the valedictorian spot of their class (year). i would like to think that in the first semester of their freshman year, dazai won, but in the second semester, fyodor did. that earned him a whole quarter's worth of rebuking insults and pettiness

and they're both arrogant as hell, so they can't not brag about their scores

i imagine that if they were ever in the same literature class, one of them would purposely be the 'devil's advocate' in every single seminar just to annoy the other

on that note, can you imagine them debating the moral rationality of crime and punishment??? if you've read the book, you would understand. it would start world war fucking iii

they do work well together on group assignments and stuff, though. they prefer partnering up with each other because, in their words, "everyone else is too damn stupid"

next, dazai and kunikida:

kunikida and dazai are roommates. they met in college, not high school (probably came from opposite sides of the fucking country)

i imagine that their first interaction went like this:

dazai: oh!!! my roommate!!! welcome!!!! do you think this curtain bar is tall enough for me to hang myself on???? kunikida: what the fuck?? no????? dazai: oh, that's terribly unfortunate. also, did you request our dorm to be on the first floor? kunikida: yes, of course??? why would you want to unnecessarily climb extra flights of stairs? dazai: oh, no reason. i just wanted to try jumping out of the window, but i guess that's a foregone conclusion now [sighs wistfully] kunikida: what the actual fuck

(more under the cut!!!)

yeah. anyways

kunikida is ever-annoyed by dazai, but he also is a little bit concerned, not that he'd ever admit it

he's also a political science major on the pre-law track, so he's slightly stuck-up. at first, dazai can't believe he has this righteous, lofty dude as his roommate, but he gets used to it. i also think he would play tricks on kunikida like he does in canon—his notebook mysteriously disappears and then reappears twice a month without fail, like clockwork

kunikida is the suffering listener to most of dazai's daily ramblings (most of which are answers to 'philosophical' questions), his most recent one being: is "X food" a soup or a salad??

moving on. stem vs. humanities

there is a long-running war between the stem and humanities departments in the university, and people hold a lot of grudges. for example

tanizaki (a chemistry major) dumped a whole bottle of 1879 wine inside chuuya's (a literature major specializing in poetry) backpack once. dazai cackled at it (despite also being a humanities major), but he still took chuuya's side

kouyou (a gender studies major) started dating yosano (a biology major on the pre-med track) in their sophomore year, and it caused a huge ruckus. kouyou still has stains on her favorite dress

mori (a biology professor) is definitely not above joining in on the scheme. i imagine that he occasionally helps his students plan some quite elaborate pranks on fukuzawa (a comparative lit. professor) and his classes

atsushi is an anthropology major, while akutagawa studies astrophysics. with their peers involved, they've reluctantly participated in a few (read: a whole fucking lot) of prank wars, one of which involved a pack of gummy worms and the communal showers. dazai eggs them on every chance he gets

on the hunting dogs:

jouno is an electrical engineering major who absolutely delights in bothering his rather apathetic roommate, tecchou (a government major)

fukuchi is definitely the applied mathematics professor that everybody hates (fuck canon fukuchi)

teruko is a film and visual studies major, but she wants to minor in contemporary art. honestly, though, teruko is more of a wild card in my hcs because i like to think that she wants to dabble a little bit in everything but simply doesn't have enough spare time to invest

tachihara is a classics major. i love the idea of tachihara being a total nerd about greco-roman history. he probably sculpts as a hobby or something. i don't know

i have way too many ideas about this. i might update this more in the future >:D reply with your own hcs if you have any!!! i'd love to hear them

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #au #alternate universe #college au #headcanons #bsd headcanons

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postmodernbeing · 4 years ago

Text

Shingeki no Kyojin headcanons: 104th training corps (College AU)

Hello, Postmodernbeing here. This time I wanted to write about things that I actually know, since I’m a college student and I’m studing History and Social Sciences I found myself wondering about what would the 104th training corps focus their studies on if all of them had chosen humanities as their career. I hope you find this funny and at least a bit accurate.

IMPORTANT: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin, only these HCs are my own. // Might contain a few spoilers from the manga. // English is not my first language and I study uni at Latin America, so scientifical terms/words/concepts may vary. Anyhow, I thank you for reading and for your patience.

Eren Jaeger

He’s passionate about Military History, not to be confused with history of army. Eren’s rather focused in strategies, weapons and semiotics involved in military speech.

First started with books about great wars in modern era. The use of certain weapons took him by surprise due the technological development.

Then he took classes about discourse analysis, semiotics and such, and felt inspired by the discourse reflected in emblems, uniforms, flags, etc.

Eren doesn’t really have a preference between occidental or oriental, North or South, Modern or Ancient settings. He would simply devour all the books that deal with military strategy and warlike conflicts. Although he has more experience and information about great wars in modern era.

He’s fascinated with the inexhaustible human desire of freedom and the extent that it can reach. This fascination might not be very healthy, he concludes.

Also, finds a cruel beauty in violence when showed in freedom and ideals are protected over one’s own life. But he won’t tell his classmates or professors. He knows is a controversial opinion for he’s still aware the implications of massive conflicts and the abuse of power.

One thing led to another, Eren is now taking classes and reading about philosophy in war and anthropological perspectives about violence through time.

He’s so into social movements besides his main interest in college: “No one’s really free until all humanity is”, that’s his life motto pretty much.

Due his readings and researches he decided it was important to develop a political stance about the world’s problems. Eren strongly believes all lives worth the same, but systems and nations had imposed over others and vulnerated other human's lives.

Yes, Eren is anti-capitalist and anti-imperialist.

Mikasa Ackerman

Asian Studies Major / History Minor.

She thinks by studying these degrees, she pays honor to her heritage. Specially to her mother. Her family is the proudest for Mikasa is also the best student in her whole generation.

Mikasa received a scholarship thanks to Azumabito family, who are co-founders of an academic institution dedicated to Asian historical and cultural research. She might as well start working when she graduates.

Although she’s passionate about Japan’s history, she has written a few articles and essays about Asian Studies themselves and the importance of preserving but also divulging by means of art and sciences.

In her essays and research work, she likes to employ tools from many disciplines since she strongly believes all humanities and social sciences serve the very same purpose at scrutinize the social reality all the same. Might as well use demographics, ethnology, sociology, philosophy, anthropology, archeology, and so on. For it proves to bring light into questions that history by itself could answer unsatisfactorily (in Mikasa’s opinion).

Even her professors wonder how she manages to organize that much information and pull it off successfully. She might as well be more brilliant than a few PhD’s students.

Armin Arlert

Prehistoric studies / Archeology

He’s so into the studies about the prehistoric humans and routes of migration.

Passionate about the ocean and natural wonders since kid, Armin believed his career would be environmentalist or geoscience related.

That was the agreement he had with his grandad since middleschool, until he read Paul Rivet’s “The Origins of the American Man” book and captured him thoroughly. The way the book explained logically the diverse theories about global migration and enlisted the challenges of modern archeology -for there are numerous mysteries- simply devoured his conscience.

He knew from the books he’d read that most evidence of the first settlements are deep under dirt or far away in the ocean whose level has risen over the centuries leaving primitive camps – and answers – unreachable.

That’s the reason he is so eager to study and give his best to contribute both archeology and history disciplines. Also, he’ll forever love the ocean and nature, just leave him do all the fieldwork, please.

Jean Kirstein

History of industry / Industrial heritage / Historical materialism

Jean first started interested in capitalist industries and production development in first world countries. Kind of rejected other visions and explanations since he’d read about positivism studies.

His interest in such matters started when he was a just boy. He often found himself wondering how things were made and that question captured him ever since. As he grew up, he realized that machines and industrial processes were highly involved in the most mundane objects creation.

Nonetheless, he learnt that not always the best machinery was used, nor the best work conditions were available for mass production. From that moment he’d started to read about the First Industrial Revolution and his mind just took off with questions. Invariably, he learned about labour struggle and the transforming power due workforce.

Between his readings and university classes, he’d knew more about labour movements, unions. And in the theoretical aspect, he'd learned about historical materialism analysis.

One could say that Jean possesses a humanistic vision of the implications in mass production under capitalist system along history and nowadays.

Marco Bodt

Royalty's history / Medieval Studies

I wanted to keep his canonical fascination to royalty and the best way to do that was including Medieval Studies.

Marco would study since the fall of Roman Empire until the latest gossip of royal families all across Europe.

Might get a bit of Eurocentric with his essays but in real life discussions he’s always open to debates about decolonization. He has even read Frantz Fanon books and possesses a critical thinking about colonial countries and their relations with the so named third world.

Nevertheless, Marco finds a strange beauty in the lives of monarchs and he’s interested in study from their education, hobbies, strategies, relationships, everything.

I’d say that his favorite historical period is probably the establishment of the descendants of the barbarian peoples in the new kingdoms such as the Visigoths, Ostrogoths, Franks, Vandals, Huns, Saxons, Angles and Jutes (holy shit, they're a lot).

Because this would transcend as the beginning of his favorite matter of analysis.

Sasha Braus

History of gastronomy, development of cooking, antropology and archeological studies.

Sasha’s interested in the history that shows human development of food and cooking. She finds wonders when she inquires into cultural aspects from the first farming till modern artistic expressions that would involve food.

Such as gastronomy. But her attention got caught in literature’s food representation too, with its symbols and allegories, also in paintings that belong in still life movement, but also Sasha finds interest when food is used as rhetorical devices (for example: the apple in Adam and Eve’s myth).

She’s curious about primitive systems of irrigation, cultivation, food distribution, adaptation of wild species; as well as the domestication of animals, the diversification of the diet and its link with sedentary life, as well as the subsequent division of labor once the need for food was assured in humanity’ first cities.

Sasha’s convinced that alimentation is the pilar of civilization as we know it. For it involves cultural, artistic, economic, emotion and social aspects. Food is a microcosm of analysis of humanity.

Sasha hasn’t a favorite historical period or setting. But she definitely has a special fascination for first civilizations and their link with alimentation. Also, she likes to study the development gastronomy in occident world around different regions, social classes, and time.

Although, let’s be honest, Sasha would devour (lol, couldn’t help it) ANY book about agriculture, cattle raising, cooking or gastronomy.

Connie Springer

Micro-history / History of everyday life.

Connie loves his hometown, has a deep respect to his family and traditions. That’s why he finds himself wondering about the most ordinary events that developed in his dear Ragako.

The book “The Cheese and the Worms” by Carlo Ginzburg changed the way he used to understand history and capture him into meaningful discussions about what he learned was called micro-history.

His favorite quote from that book is: “As with language, culture offers to the individual a horizon of latent possibilities—a flexible and invisible cage in which he can exercise his own conditional liberty.”

Once deep into studying the Italian historians and their works, he decided to give it a try, and ever since he’s mesmerized with the mundane vestiges craftsmen that worked in his village left behind.

Connie’s parents are so proud of him and his achivements, but mostly because he became a passionate academic over human and simple matters, (so down to earth our big baby).

His attitude towards his essays and research works truly shows his great heart and humility. Connie is aware that academic works have no use if they are not meant to teach us about ourselves too and current times.

Empathy and hard work, that’s how one could describe the elements that integrate his recently started academic career.

Historia Reiss

Political History / Statistician

Her father’s family pressured Historia since she was a little girl into studying History just like his dad. For he’s a very famous historian that had made important researches and books about the greatest statesmen of Paradis.

She thought in numerous ways that she could sabotage her career or study any other career without her family’s consent and end with her linage of historians. But she ended up enrolling in tuition and so far, she is trying her best in her studies. Historia swears this is the right path for her.

But don’t let the appearances fool you, even thought she studies her father’s career and the very same branch of history’s discipline, she has her own critical sense and she’s so talented on her own, very meticulous with her research papers.

Definitely wants a PhD about women, power and politics. We stand a Gender Studies Queen.

Her complementary disciplines are Political Sciences. Historia also has a talent for philosophy and owns a diary with all her thoughts about them. She hopes one day she would write a book or a manifesto about an innovative methodology for research and teaching History of Politic Thinking.

Ymir

Religion’s History / Theology

Just like Historia, Ymir was pressured into studying History. And if she’s totally honest, she still has some doubts about it. Even if she couldn’t imagine herself studying anything else.

Anyways, Ymir thought that she could build her career around topics that she enjoys. So, she finally chose theology for unusual reasons.

Her classmates had grown up in religious families or had experience studying the doctrines they practiced. But she, being an agnostic, found satisfaction in unraveling belief systems in different cultures and time periods.

Albeit she studies in Paradis’ University, she currently has the opportunity of taking an academic exchange at Marley’s University. This only made Ymir more conflicted about her future, for she wants to stay (near Historia) but she’s aware that Marley would offer her more academic opportunities for her specialization.

Nowadays she’s working in some collaborative research paper with some people from Mythological Studies from the Literature department. She’s nailing it, writing some historical studies about titans in Greek mythology and its impact in shaping neoclassical poetry. Her brains ugh, love her.

Reiner Braun

Official History / Biographies of heroes and great wars.

His mother convinced him with numerous books about great national heroes, but mostly because she knew that would mean sure job to her son. All political administration in every level requires of an official chronicler.

When he started his college courses, Reiner felt motivated and he was actually convinced that he had the vocation. But the more he read the less sure he felt that the academic world was for him. He wondered if he made the right choice. If he did it for him or for his mother.

Stories and myths about heroes have always cheered him up. That gave him purpose and consoled him when feeling down. Or at least it was like that when younger. Reiner truly didn’t feel like himself when regretting his choices, but he couldn’t help it for he was changing in more than a way.

That’s why he decided to experiment with other disciplines and with time he would find joy in historical novels. He would analyze them just as good as a litterateur and research about historical context in the written story AND study the artwork’s context itself.

His favorites theorical books are: “Historical Text as Literary Artifact” by Hayden White and Michel de Certeau’ “The Writing of History”.·

Heroes stories would always accompany him, just differently now.

Bertolt Hoover

History of mentalities / Les Annales

Intimate relationships, basic habits and attitudes. / Culture

Bertie has always been a much reticent and shy guy. As he grew up, he consolidated his sullen personality, but maintained a friendly attitude towards anyone who needed him. That’s why he thought that the priority in his studies was to be at the service of his classmates.

So, although he was passionate about research and was a fan of the French Les Annales current, he considered his mission to be in the Archive. As a cataloger, organizer and curator of ancient documents.

But the ways of History are always mysterious, and Doctor Magath showed him that other way of being was possible. Before Bertolt picked his specialty, he met Theo Magath, a professor who recently had finished writing a book: “The Idea of Death in Liberio’s Ghetto in Marley During its War Against Eldia (Paradis)” (long-ass titles are historians specialty btw). After Magath ended his book’ presentation, Bertolt reached him. They talked for hours and finally, he felt inspired into pursuing his true passion. Magath gifted him “The Historian’s Craft” by Marc Bloch as a way to reminding him his way.

By the time Bertolt took History of Mentalities as optional class, he already had some basic notions about Les Annales, Lucien Febvre, Marc Bloch, Fernand Braudel, Jacques Le Goff and such.

Being the gentle giant he is, Bertolt finds joy in reading about different lifestyles in diverse cultures. He constantly wonders about the origin of social constructs and the way they shape thinking as much as identity.

This boy is a wonder, he might not be the best in oral presentations or extracurricular activities but sure as hell he’ll graduate with honors.

Annie Leonhart

Oral history, about institutions. Particularly, police and justice system in early XXs.

Albeit she got into the same University than Bertolt and Reiner, even shared classes and hopes, Annie regularly felt disconnected from her studies. With time she realized it wasn't due her career itself but rather because of the currents that her professors had suggested her taking. Until now.

Talking with Hitch and Marlow about their doubts concerning subjects and departments it came up the topics of history and present time but also oral history. She’d never heard something like that before. So, that very same week, Annie started searching for information about that.

She ended up with more questions: is it all of this just academic journalism? Or maybe sociology? When we can talk about regular history and when it starts being present time? If she introduces interviews due oral history, then that makes it an interdisciplinary work? Which are the best systems for analyzing data? Definitely, she’ll need help from anthropology and sociology departments if she wants to keep going.

Contrary to her initial prognostic, philosophy and history of historic writing became her new allies, and the text “Le temps présent et l'historiographie contemporaine” (Present Time and Contemporary Historiography) by Bédarida among others, provided Annie another perspective.

Regarding her favorite topics, she wouldn’t say that she selected them freely. They were just practical preferences. For institutions own extensive archives and numerous functionaries. One way or another, she ended up tangled in judicial system and police issues.

With new tools and object for studying, one could find Annie having a blast as detective too. Even if her academic essays focus on institutions’ history and configuration, she’s also working in corruption and more. She doesn’t do it because she believes it’s the right thing, but besides, the thrill of the tea is spicy. Although she won’t admit it.

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot headcanons #snk headcanons #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #jean kirstein #marco bodt #sasha braus #connie springer #historia reiss #ymir #reiner braun #bertolt hoover #annie leonhart #modern au #college au

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just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 4 years ago

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Some Fun Teacher AU tibits me and my friends came up with on call:

First, I think I have solid surnames I wanna use so we have (btw you are free to go with your favourites if you write for this au! I’ll still love them!):

Mr. Roman Prince - Gym and Drama (mostly coaches basketball, runs fencing club)

Mx. Virgil Blake - Music (former English teacher, had to change subjects due to stress, uses he/they)

Mr. Patton Foster - Woodwork and Home Economics (prefers sewing to cooking but he’s trying)

Mr. Logan Baird - English (is originally from Scotland because fight me)

Mr. Janus Dolon - History and Modern Studies (will absolutely destroy you in a debate)

Mr. Remus Duke - Art (he and Roman’s parents divorced and he took his mother’s name, originally went to college to be a crime scene investigator)

Mr. Remy Moreno - IT (has probably been to jail for )

Prof. Emile Picani - Science (mostly Biology, helps out with the other sciences too)

And now for more info! Most of this was born of a joke about Logan having a tattoo ehe.. [tw: drinking mention!]

- One day, Roman lets it slip to his drama class that Logan has a tattoo from he and Virgil’s band days. The class go WILD with this information.

- They immediately go to Logan to ask to see it but he denies it; “who lied to you” “I don’t have tattoos, they’re unnecesary and unprofessional”, etc. Basically he deflects it entirely.

- The students start to think Roman’s joking with them. Until sports day.

- Logan gets picked for the teacher’s basketball game and Roman rigs it for him to be on team skins. He’s reluctant but Logan hauls off his shirt and on his back is a full colour unicorn tattoo.

- Now the focus is on Virgil because they’re convinced he has to have one. Like he has lots of piercings and stuff so why not a tattoo? - And Virgil tries to get Roman to call off the hoard of students asking about it, but Roman thinks its so funny, he doesn’t ever tell the students that Virgil’s actually super anxious about needles.

- The tattoo talk reaches Janus (who has a half face tattoo of scales that he uses to hide his skin condition) and Remus (who has whole sleeves of tattoos under the beat up leather jacket he usually wears), and Janus is happy to add, “Oh, didn’t you know? Mr Foster has a tattoo too” - No one believes him, until Remus backs him up, “I tattoo’d him myself in college!!” and NOW they’re convinced.

- So they ask Patton and he’s like “oh they’re just teasing you, I’m too nervous to get tattoos!” and the students assume Remus was joking with them. But then one day Patton’s changing out of his cardigan and he’s wearing a tank top.

- And on his left shoulder is a tiny tattoo of a rat. Just a simple line tattoo. This is how Patton finds out he got tattoo’d by Remus while they were both drunk after finals. Patton keeps it anyway because rats are lil squishy babies and he loves it secretly. - Remy has tattoos of constellations on his wrists that match his freckles, and Picani doesn’t have tattoos but he likes to draw on himself with sharpies when he’s anxious. - Principal Sanders comes to visit the music department often, usually talking to Virgil and checking in, but almost everyone knows he’s only there to sneakily find ways to talk to another music teacher, Mr Flores.

- Virgil has told Thomas just to suck it up and go speak to him, but Thomas just tells Virgil he should take his own advice and Virgil can’t really say anything in response.

- Eventually, the whole staff work together to get them on a date. Turns out Nico’s also really into Thomas too.

- Joan and Remy get coffee every morning, they’ve tried to get Virgil to join them, but Virgil’s still bitter about the time Remy invited everyone to his sleepover in high school EXCEPT Virgil.

- The reason was super petty, Remy was mad Virgil beat him in the talent contest that year.

-----------

Thats what I have for now but yeah, I’m getting super into this AU!!

I FORGOT THE TAGLIST I’M SO SORRY @thankgodyoudonthaveamustache @give-it-up-for-the-purp-man @agender-in-a-van @mx-sugar-pink @jadespeedstar17 @amintyworld @queerly-fluid-fan @im-a-dragon-cawcaw @zaythesnek @thatguycalledvin @kawaiikiwi984 @baka-monarch @captainmylifeisfandoms @ice-flower-angel @just-some-spoopy-shit @the-goddess-of-annoying @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @koalas-in-coffee @december-rains @grayson-22 @khadij-al-kubra @itsadastraperaspera @sourshadowling @perfectly-practical @count-woe-laf @private-snippers @ewatsonia @nekai-aori @logan-pie @logan-nisa @yokemybaroque

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not-xpr-art · 4 years ago

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Art Deep Dives #2 - The History of Fanart

Hi everyone!

This post is part of my Art Deep Dives tag, where I ramble about art-y things, often with some relation to art history in some way.

just so you know, these essays aren’t formal in anyway lol! I just do them for fun & to hopefully be interesting in some way to someone!

This week I’ll be talking about the history and importance of fanart! It’s not the entire history of fanart, just some key moments and points in it that I feel are important!

(this essay is about 2500 words long btw!)

Part 1 - What even is fanart?

I think when a lot of people hear about ‘fanart’, they often think of it as a new thing, something that came along at some point in the last century when media begun to be mass circulated around the world.

But, of course, fanart has existed long before media like Star Wars or Doctor Who were created, and even long before photography was invented, even if it wasn’t necessarily referred to as ‘fanart’ at that time since the concept of ‘intellectual property’ hadn’t been introduced at that point.

So I think at first we need to define what we even mean when we refer to ‘fanart’...

Put simply, it’s artwork made by people who are interested in something created by someone else, such as a TV show, film, book, podcast, video game etc. However, by this definition, where do original characters created by the fans as part of franchises fit into the picture? Or celebrity fanart? Or artists who use famous people’s appearances as the base for their own characters? Or what of artworks of media that have long since passed copyright laws (such as Shakespeare works, Austen works, etc)? And where do illustrations of books fit into this?

So perhaps a wider description would be, artworks made by fans of and inspired by something “belonging” to someone else (either a piece of media or... themselves). The issue of this description is that most portraiture would fit into this. So... are we about to call Thomas Gainsborough or Joshua Reynolds, two of the most famous British portrait painters of the 18th century, fanartists?

I think a lot of people in the art world would scoff at this concept, because even now the feelings surrounding fanart are pretty negative. They see it as less of a valid form of art and instead as ‘derivative’ and ‘unoriginal’. I’ve heard both non-artists and artists alike talk about fanart as ‘not real art’, and then in the next breath they’re praising portraits made by Leonardo da Vinci or Vincent Van Gogh.

I also think it’s important to note that fanart isn’t exclusively portraiture too. Often artists will draw landscapes, still life works or even abstract pieces based on their favourite media. And as previously mention, a lot of artists and writers create their own characters within a world created by another person. So, for all intents and purposes, that is a form of original art, but it is often still put down in comparison to people who make up an entirely new story and world for their characters.

Part 2 - Renaissance artists and Bible fanart!?

One of the most common defences I’ve seen for fanart is that Renaissance artists’ basically did Bible and Mythology fanart, and their artwork is considered ‘masterpieces’ so... that’s that!

Right?

Well, if we’re sticking with the definition of fanart being something based on a series of characters or concepts owned by someone else, then Religious or Mythological based art would definitely fit into this.

(Leonardo da Vinci’s ‘Virgin of the Rocks’, currently being held in the National Gallery in London).

But I think it’s important to note that the art world was a very different place in Renaissance Europe. Concepts and characters didn’t belong to any one person or group of people, instead everything was a lot more homogenised. There’s a reason why when we think of figures like Jesus or the Virgin Mary, we have a very particular idea of what they look like (a very white-washed idea, I might add). The same thing goes for portrayals of figures from Greek or Roman mythology. There were often motifs associated with these deities that dated back to Antiquity, and Renaissance artists looked back to this for their inspiration. But there was no one specific point of reference for these ‘characters’ other than the Bible, which didn’t actually ‘belong’ to anyone, not even the church.

So, I think it’s valid to bring up Renaissance artists and how the modern concept of ‘originality’ in art was less important to artists or patrons, and much of the art they did was exclusively works based on something the artist did not come up with. In my first Art Deep Dive, I talked about how History paintings (which were often Religious or Mythology based) were valued for being the product of an ‘artistic genius’ and their connection to spirituality in comparison to portraits or landscapes that depicted the real contemporary world.

But do I think it was actually fanart?

... Probably not... Although I wouldn’t begrudge anyone believing it is, because in a way it does somewhat fit into the definition of fanart. Instead this was to look at how society’s relationship to art has changed drastically in the hundreds of years since that era, as has the purpose of art itself.

And I think it does bring up some interesting discussions of why we are so obsessed with ‘originality’ in art at the moment when it’s not something that was really important before, though!

Part 3 - What about portraiture?

So... What about portraiture huh?

Now, portraiture has existed for as long as art has, essentially, but it took until the Renaissance era and beyond for it to be associated with patrons. Portraiture was more than just ‘old-timey photography’, since it was linked distinctively to a sign of wealth. I mentioned Thomas Gainsborough and Joshua Reynolds earlier, who were two very influential portrait artists of the 18th century, who both fed into a market of middle and upper class patrons wanting their portraits done in this era.

(This is a piece by Reynolds of the Actress Mrs Siddons as the Tragic Muse).

And in a way this makes portraiture probably the earliest example of fanart as we see it today.

Except, a part of fanart that people who do it (including myself) often bring up is how it’s connected to a sense of passion and love for something. In a way, portraits done purely as commissions for an aristocrat for profit doesn’t necessarily fit into our modern notion of fanart.

This brings us back to that darn description of fanart again. Because in our current world fanart can be defined as work of celebrities done as commissions. Except, perhaps, if you’re a known portrait painter (no one says the designer of the postage stamp did fanart of Queen Elizabeth, despite the fact that it... kind of is?).

So, why is it that a portrait of the Queen is simply a portrait, but one of Billie Eilish is ‘fanart’? Who decides these parameters? And also who decides which one is more ‘worthy’ or ‘valuable’?

Places like the National Portrait Gallery are filled with portraits of famous people from history. But it’s never referred to as the ‘National Fanart Gallery’. I think in a way this boils down to who is doing the art, who the art is of and why they’re painting it. It is funny, though, that the distinction between fanart and portraiture of famous people is so similar that it requires such detailed specifications as to which is which.

So, I think it’s clear to see that where portraiture fits in the history of fanart is a contentious one...

Part 4 - Shakespeare, Fairy Paintings and other 18th/19th Century Curiosities...

From the late 18th until the late 19th century essentially saw the birth to what we now know as ‘fanart’, in a way. The growth of middle-class audiences in the early part of the 1800′s meant that there was a new found desire for landscape, genre and portrait art. And coupled with the growth of secularism, history paintings in their traditional sense had lost appeal.

There was also the small matter of media being so much more accessible and wide spread to bigger audiences due to the industrial revolution. Books were being printed more easily and sold and a reasonable price, not to mention that a significant portion of the population could now actually read, or at the very least were given some form of education. More travel and trade (and also colonialism) also lead to an increase of new kinds of media being explored. Birth of the Gothic genre, Science Fiction, Fantasy, etc, all forms of fiction that we’re very familiar with now were only just entering the public’s consciousness at this point.

Much like now, technological advances were both a blessing and curse to the people of this era. And also like now, art was used as a way to express what was happening in the world. A great example of this is JMW Turner’s Flying ,,, which shows an old ship being transported into harbour by a steamboat, something that was very new to this era. It spoke of the new technologies overpowering the old, and the fears a lot of people had because of this.

This lead to the development of Fairy Paintings, to move to a new time of history painting that was more based on folktales and works of fiction by writers like Shakespeare, and were often used as a form of escapism. William Blake is a prominent figure in this type of painting, along with some Pre-Raphaelite painters.

This is a piece directly based on Shakespeare’s Macbeth by Henry Fuseli and is completely undoubtedly fanart in essentially every way. Many of his works, and the works of his contemporaries, were based on the works of writers like Shakespeare.

This piece, along with most of his other works, was also exhibited in the Tate Gallery way back in the early 19th century. Fanart like this was openly welcomed into galleries in this era, something that’s a far cry from my art teachers in school and college actively discouraging us from doing any kind of fanart for our projects.

The mass appeal of these kinds of art lasted well into the 20th century and even after the advent of photography, which created an entirely new kind of media to be consumed.

I actually think that a lot of this animosity towards fanart stems from a lot of fanart being born from drawing from photos as references, which is why I think artworks that are fanart from an pre-photography era are valued above artworks done now.

Part 5 - The Beginnings of Intellectual Property and Copyright Hell...

Earlier I mentioned how fanart could be defined as work done inspired by media belonging to someone else. However, this begs the question whether a single person or company can actually own such things as characters and story concepts.

Copyright as we know it today essentially originated in the 18th century. Now, I’m not going to go into all the history of copyright here (partly because it’s confusing af), but essentially throughout the 18th and 19th century all across the world, intellectual property laws were brought in for books & later extended to other media types. They basically prevented any other person or publisher being able to copy, distribute or adapt the piece of media. As many may know, copyright laws run out after a certain amount of time (I believe either between 70 or 100 years), by which time they enter the Public Domain and are free to be used in anyway by anyone.

Copyright laws can be a real detriment to fanartists, however, particularly when large companies like Disney cracking down on any small hint of one of their characters in the last few years. This feels particularly insidious to me given how most Disney films are based on old fairy-tales and legends. But in using these centuries old stories and giving them the ‘Disney flavour’, they have been able to essentially repackage the original story for their own profit. Disney of course aren’t the only company to do this, but given how Disney own basically everything media-wise now, they are the biggest perpetrator of this at the moment.

It’s important to note that to this day, copyright doesn’t extend to ideas or themes. As well as this, copyrighted media can be used by people who don’t own it either by asking for permission or via ‘fair use’. But as a lot of Youtubers would tell you, this is often something that is ignored by large companies in favour of holding monopoly over the entire thing.

This is of course not to say that copyright can’t be a good thing. I believe that artists and creators deserve to have the rights to their individual works. The issue is surrounding big conglomerate companies using copyright not as a way of protecting and supporting their in-house artists, but as a way of boosting profits.

My thoughts are that copyright laws should exist to prevent other people or companies from stealing or overtly copying/adapting a work made by someone else, not preventing a small freelance artist from selling a couple prints of a drawing from a film Disney made 20+ years ago based on a stories written hundreds of years ago.

(I know it’s not as simple as this, but you get what I mean lol)

In a big way, copyright laws were what created our modern notion of fanart, since prior to that no-one really had ownership of their works in the same way that copyright allows you. So, even thought I’ve been quite pessimistic about it, fanart really wouldn’t exist without it so... it’s not all bad lol?

Part 6 - Why is any of this important??

I realise that this is a strange question to ask at the end of this essay, but I really wanted to leave my true personal thoughts until the end in order to keep at least a vague sense of being objective through this lol...

To me, fanart is something that made me fall in love with art in the first place, particularly digital art. I was able to find communities of like minded people and make some really good friends, all because of fanart.

I’ve also spoken to other artists who say how fanart allows them to connect to their favourite shows or characters or celebrities, and a way of expressing their love for something! It’s also often a gateway for artists to get into art as children, and some have said how fanart has allowed them to be more creative in general!

Fanart is something so intrinsic to fandom culture, so much so that it has existed for as long as people have loved things (even long before the internet). And I know that a lot of public figures who receive fanart, either of themselves or of works they’ve created, often express genuine happiness of being the inspiration for someone else...

So, fanart is important to us because it’s escapism, it’s freedom, and it brings us together in such a genuine way!

I wrote this essay because I wanted to truly explore where fanart actually came from, and what I ended up discovering is that the artworld has never been clean-cut separated into ‘original art’ and ‘fanart’!

The history of fanart is messy, confusing, but one thing is very clear to me: it doesn’t just run parallel to the history of art as a lot of people assume, it is instead interwoven into the fabric of all art!

So for my fellow fanartists, keep on doing what you’re doing, because your passion and love is palpable in your work, and really isn’t that what fanart is all about anyway??

~~~

Phew... Can you believe I actually did try and keep this short lol?

Anyway, thank you for reaching the end! And a special thank you to the people over at Artfolapp (my username is dangerliesbeforeyou over there btw!) who gave me their thoughts on fanart!

As always, my ask box is open for anyone who’s interested in discussing this further, and I also have an Art Advice Tag if you need help on improving your art!

#art deep dives #fanart #history of fanart #art history #art discussion #essay #history of art #blog post #i'm just... really passionate about fanart ... can u tell lol?#i may do a follow up of this one day since this is far from everything i want to talk about #but i figured 2500 words was enough for now..

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oh-theatre · 4 years ago

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“Look you wanted to talk so here I am, whats up” typically what followed that was a conversation but instead Patton was taken gently in Logan’s palms and kissed under the dingy bleachers while the football team played in the nearby field.

Patton has never been kissed before, he never had the need or want. Sure guys were cute and he definitely had some crushes but nothing ever made his heart burst with excitement and his face flush so deep.

Not until Logan. He had only known this snarky boy for a year after he transferred here with his older brother Janus. He hadn’t thought much of it and didn’t expect any kind of relationship but soon they had classes together, after school activities become a usual spotting area. But they were friends. Best friends definitely, you can truly connect with someone over the year.

They shared inside jokes, became co Presidents of the student council, led the debate team to constant victories and were never absent during each others performances. Whether it be a cheerleading thing for Patton or a soccer match for Logan, they were front row shouting their support.

But that’s all it was, a friendship. An amazing one sure. Teasing eachother as they studied at one another’s house. Linking arms as they walked through the hall listening to their other friends. Secret looks at the lunch table and a sort of routine they had fallen into. Plus Logan’s crush was no secret, it was Patton’s favorite thing to hear about. The way he gushed.

But he never said a name

Never anything specific

And then he told Patton to meet him under the bleachers. It was a particularly rough day for the pair, they had gotten into a previous fight earlier. Patton can’t even remeber what set him off but they hadn’t spoken until this moment.

Which prompted the curt “Look you wanted to talk so here I am, whats up” and yet nothing could prepare him for the ever confident Logan taking control. Patton wanted more as soon as it happened but Logan pulled away. Patton couldn’t read his face, was he shocked, embarrassed.. disgusted? Was Patton really that bad?

“I’m in love with you, which is a ridiculous statement to make as a junior in highschool but it’s one I stand by.” Patton couldn’t respond, his fingers traced the spot where Logan had kissed him, it still sizzled with such a sensation. “You’re better than everyone at this lousy school, you are who you are and you’re so smart and it’s not fair for me to get to be your friend, it’s not fair to walk around beside you everyday because I don’t hold a candle to you. I’m not shit” he kicks the ground, Patton listens but he’s still so lost in this entrancment. “And everyday you tear yourself down and that’s not fair, it’s not because if anyone at this school should get to walk around like they own it, it should be you” he finished not really sure what he was going for

“Lo?” Patton manages finally seeing the sea of gray and blue eyes look up to him “That was the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.” He giggles “You don’t hold a candle to me? Are you kidding? Not that school is the all defining factor of how amazing you are but look at everything you’ve accomplished, look at who you are! I love who you are! And god this is really dumb! We are just silly juniors whose hormones are off the charts but let’s let them run wild!” He can feel the energy, this was something he had wanted, he knew it deep down. He didn’t hesitate before returning the favor, only this time it wasn’t gentle, it was fierce and passionate. And they didn’t part until they both couldn’t breathe.

With Logan’s hands still around Patton’s waist, he took a moment. “This could be a really bad idea” he warns

“It definitely could be, you’re not wrong! But I believe in this and if this really doesn’t work out, I believe in our friendship. Because who am I going to sit in the library with for an hour and talk about how many of histories greatest stories had gay subtext?”

“You got me there” he chuckles. “So we try?”

“We absolutely do”

And they did just that, no one expected it to work. Roman held faith but even Logan and Patton were skeptical. It was highschool, it was unpredictable. But soon enough graduation came and they stood side by side delivering their valedictorian speeches. They embraced as soon as they received their diplomas. With Logan in Washington and Patton in New York it was sure to crash and burn, but frequent visits and talks, trust and communication, even studying abroad together in London they still went strong. Then college ended and they kept going, through jobs, through buying a new apartment together and getting a dog, moving to Washington permanently, through hardships and fights, through night and day, these highschool kids built a future together. Marriage came, adoption, success through so many trial and error but they built a life, and they did it together, together and in love.

“Earth to Logan” Janus snapped one front of his dazed brothers face.

“Hm? Apologies I guess I got distracted” his eyes remained planted on Patton. He was across the library browsing for books. He would join them in a moment so they could continue to study.

“You’re really not going to tell him?” Janus lowered his voice, a calmer presence.

“Can’t lose what I have, it’s not worth the risk” Logan sighs, Patton adds a bounce to his step as he finds the book he wants before skipping back to the brothers. A smile so bright as he sits down and opens the book.

“Ok! Let’s try this from the beginning” Patton smiles.

“Let’s try” Logan agrees, the sorrow in his voice rings throughout. And he did try to focus on the topic at hand, but soon the voices faded out and all he could think about was that future, that non existent future, how dare he let his mind run that way. He was better than that.

Focus Logan.

Focus.

#hi im bad at writing #sanders sides #ANYWAY #logicality #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #youtube #thomas sanders #writing #my writing

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ramble-writes · 4 years ago

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So here comes another valentine's gift for the glorious @franks-mixtape ! If y'all remember the 2 Franks that are brothers and werewolves that I wrote some time ago, this is going from that again because I thought about it randomly and felt like I then needed more of it sooooooo yeah! If you DON’T know, the gist is being that his Frank and my Frank are half brothers. Father being a werewolf to both which resulted in his Frank being a halfling, while mine is whole werewolf due to different mothers. 19 years apart until both came to Ormond where they met up and figured out they’re brothers. So there ya go!

Warning(s): probs just standard cussing, buuuut that’s it lol

Don’t forget to like, reblog, and follow if ya wanna see more! (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

A Wednesday. Worst day for the 14th to fall on. Especially since it’s in the middle of the school week. Frank James Morrison sat there in the last class for the day, English. The teacher decided to focus on how Valentine’s day started from some dude who got executed in Rome or some shit. He wasn’t paying attention, finding it useless to learn about. Emerald green eyes lazily gazed around the room till they landed on his brother’s russet hair.

Frank Fenik Morrison was there a few seats to James’s left, amber eyes were trailing over the printed paper the teacher had passed out previously. As much as he was into literature, if he wanted to learn history on a subject of a man who was killed for trying to teach his religion to the Romans, he would’ve in his history class.

Fenik really was just idly taking his pencil to scribble a random design on a blank spot on the paper, the teacher’s voice seeming muffled in the background. Darkening some lines on the drawing, he felt a nudge in his mind, like someone nudging him with their arm. He lifted his eyes up and flickered to the side where gemstone eyes met and locked.

‘Dude. This shit is boring. Can’t we just.. skip out on this?”

‘I wish. But we can’t or shit’ll go down. Plus, they’ll know it’s us since we have the same exact name, minus the middle name.’

This made the raven-haired Frank sigh out loudly. He slightly scrunched his face up at hearing his other half chuckle both from a distance (thanks to his heightened hearing) and in his mind. Since figuring out the two had the same father, name, preference in tattoos, music, and other things, it made for the two getting along pretty easily. It resulted in a sort of bond to form. Since their father was a werewolf, it resulted in an animal like bond to form, that ran deeper than a standard sibling bond. Emotions, feelings, and thoughts were connected. It resulted in a mind link to have basically silent conversations.

‘Jesus fuckin Christ we have thirty minutes left of this bullshit. Feels like it’s taking foreverrrr!’

Fenik had to cover his mouth to stifle the laugh that bubbled up. Hearing him complain like a child made for lightening the boring mood. The internal complaining actually helped pass the time till the bell rang. Kids instantly got up with grabbing backpacks and shoulder bags alike and hurried for the door as the teacher called out that their homework from 2 days ago is due by Friday. Most likely, no one paid attention.

The two Morrisons waited at the bottom of the steps of Fairview, waiting on the other three of their odd pack in the snow. It didn’t take long for Julie, Susie, and Joey to come out. Julie adjusted her coat she has on as she hurried a bit down the stairs, being mindful of the snow-covered steps as she went over to the russet-haired Frank and planted her lips to his. This drew a very pleased growl from him as he kissed her back. Thankfully, those dreaded words to the holiday weren’t uttered.

“A’ight sluts! What’s the plan for today for shit to fuck up?” James asked, the name making Joey chuckle. “I’m lookin’ for chaos to burn down the grossness I feel from all this love shit.”

“I second that. There’s this jackass that’s been trying to feel Susie up in history when it comes to turning in work,” Julie huffed out. This made Joey look at the pinkett with concern on his face.

“And ya haven’t said anything?” Susie looked away at the tallest’s question which made him sigh. “Sus, ya gotta tell us when this kind of stuff happens..”

Her head only lowered before she pulled her hood up to hide her face. Joey had let out a sigh and draped an arm over her shoulders before looking at the other three. Amber, emerald, and brown eyes met and they all shared the same thought.

‘Trash the fucker’s place’

To cut things short, finding where the guy lives wasn’t hard. They did the standard: Egging the house, toilet paper thrown and draped over trees and parts of the house. But the brothers took it an extra step by managing to get up on the house with wadded up toilet paper, where they then shoved it down the chimney to block it up since smoke was coming out of it. And they were out as quickly as they came with a job well done.

They all split to head to their homes, hearing distant sirens meaning the house called the fire department which was sweet music to them. Of course, the russet-haired teen snuck over to Julie’s place after her father passed out for their... usual time together. Raven, as another nickname to call James rather than by his middle name like Fenik, was laying there in bed till about midnight he heard his name being called through that mind link.

‘Thought you were busy bangin’ up Jules.’

‘Shut up and get your ass out here.’

‘Fiiine. But I still wanna hear about your adventures in the pussy caaaave!’

James snickered when he bet the other was rolling his eyes outside, but he got out of bed to get dressed in his usual letterman with an extra layer underneath since it is midnight and it’s still winter. Out the window he went and onto the ground below where his brother is standing and waiting.

“Alright, whatcha want butt sniffer?”

“Don’t. Anyway, thought it be nice to hang out since school has been riding out asses with work to get us “prepared for college” which I could care less for.”

The raven-haired teen nodded. “Yeah. It’s a lot of bullshit. Ffffuck I hate being a senior.”

“I feel that,” Fenik agreed with a nod of his head. As usual, the two headed into the forest since it is their escape, and the only way that the wolves within the both of them can be let out. It’s a nice reliever since a lot of the times going out was never an option and it would make them feel cramped.

Usually, they don’t speak when out in the forest unless they do their usual practice. But for now, it was nothing but a run. Fenik in full wolf with James keeping up at an easy stride. Surprisingly, there was no clouds which let for the moon to shine bright in the sky and reflect off the snow, practically lighting their path.

They didn’t know how long they’ve been running, but they did come to a stopping point when the two Morrisons came across a big tree. It was there they stopped and flopped down at the base at the big roots, James leaning on Fenik and a hand running through the rust-colored fur in slow strokes.

“Ya know... I’m a bit jealous you can shift and I can’t..”

“Seriously? I dunno. I’d be pretty happy with just the heightened senses n shit.”

This made for emerald eyes to look at the wolf, which in return, amber looked back at the halfling. Concern was felt on both sides. Concern for how one felt left out of things, and concern for how the other didn’t care if shifting was a thing or not. James scooted himself a bit close to be able to wrap an arm around the back of the head of the large wolf and pressed his forehead to his, letting silence overtake the quiet between he two of them.

Something happened since one moment the raven-haired teen was small in comparison to the wolf with clothes on, to suddenly not and... the same size. It was like his body just relaxed for him to suddenly shift, but the realization got for the two to jump up onto their paws and look at each other.

James now was suddenly the same height, same build. Black fur made him look like a shadow o the white snow. Vibrant green eyes stood out like unknown lights in the darkest parts of the forest. The two were quiet, before sounds of excitement left them and they became nothing but giant mounds of fur and limbs with barks and yaps leaving them.

What felt like hours of nothing but romping around in the snow, they both flopped down panting with tongues hanging out of open mouths and tails swishing in the snow. Two sets of gemstone eyes gazed up at the night sky, the moon nothing but a white orb to the side of their vision.

“I hate valentine’s, but this? This is the greatest fuckin’ gift nature let me have haha!” James boofed out, letting his paws stretch out in front of him. It felt like all his limbs were sore from being contained, and finally was allowed to be out.

“Oh trust me. Being this way is heavenly. Feels like what freedom from the system should be. And now that you can shift, we can do this a hell of a lot more. And no one can stop the hell we’ll raise.” Fenik let out a chuff, a canine version of a chuckle. The black pelted one chuffed as well before rolling onto his side and laying close to the rusted pelt one and pressed close.

They were content like that, black mixing with rust, emerald and amber. It took only a nudge from Fenik to say that it’s best they get going. James got up and shook the snow from his fur, waiting for his brother to get up. Both standing, they trotted off to the edge of the forest where they shifted back to their human selves.

“This weekend. Can... we go running again? And... maybe teach me some wolf stuff since now I can shift?”

“Hell yeah man! I’ll be waiting ‘round seven. Sound good?”

James nodded with a slight smile before it fell. There was hesitation, but Fenik could feel it and brought his brother close for a hug. He melted into it and hugged the other back. They stood like that for some beats before breaking it off and headed to their homes with goodbyes through the link. Days and nights for now on were gonna be different, but they were gonna be hella enjoyable and that feeling of being left out vanished. Everything felt right, just as it should be.

#frank morrison #wolf frank #brother franks au #franks-mixtape #legion dbd #dbd #dead by daylight #my writings #HERE'S TO YOU YA TWINK HAPPY VALENTINE'S

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stones-x-bones · 4 years ago

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Classic Blunder || Ben and Bex

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @professorbcampbell and @inbextween SUMMARY: Ben finds Bex reading alone in the hallway and decides she’s quite a remarkable find. CONTENT: Brief Domestic Abuse mention

Being back at school was a strange feeling. Bex was eager to be back, she did love learning after all, but the strangeness of it came from sitting through hour long lectures about modern law and criminal justice systems, because despite trying to convince herself that she could still do this, she really didn’t want to be doing this. There was a meager acceptance as she sulked through her mandatory classes of the day, only to give herself the gifts of her electives-- A Timeline Of History Before Humans and, of course, Professor Beck’s class, Our Monsters, Ourselves: Recognizing the Other in Speculative Literature-- after them. She always came away feeling refreshed from them, especially now more so that she was living at Morgan’s. Going home to a place that didn’t feel...suffocating was nicer than Bex had ever imagined. But, that still left a lingering fear in her-- because, ultimately, she’d have to go home one day. And it was probably going to have to be someday soon. So perhaps the strangeness was more a feeling of bittersweet, because despite the bruises now fading on her skin, and the cuts closing up, the things that brought her joy also reminded her of the fact that they would not last. They simply could not.

Morgan’s class had ended a while ago, but Bex still lingered in the hallway. She was reading one of the books she’d borrowed from Morgan’s library, about Ancient History and how the stories of the past influence modern literature. There was only one bench in the hallway and she’d curled up on it, letting the masses of students wander by, not paying much attention to them and they paid little attention to her. But she remained even after the halls had cleared and more classes had started, lost in her book. She didn’t even notice the footsteps in the hallway, or the man approaching her.

Shutting his attache case with a final sigh, Ben stood up from his desk and shut the door to his office. It had been a long day of grading, office hours, and a department meeting, but it was worth it in the end. Making the right appearances, maintaining a good work flow, ensuring that his end of semester feedback responses were just where they needed to be-- it was all a balancing act. And it was an act he excelled at. Locking the door behind him, Ben made his way through the winding hallways of his building towards the exit. As he made his way through the halls, his forehead creased as caught sight of a young woman lost in a book. “I hope you don’t have a class to be going to,” Ben commented loudly, slowing to a halt in front of the girl. “Not that I’d tell on you-- this isn’t high school, after all.” He said with a conspiratorial grin. “What are you reading?”

Bex nearly jumped out of her skin when the man spoke, snapping her book shut out of reflex. She looked up at him, trying to shake off the jitters that had suddenly crawled into her hands. “O-oh, no! I don’t! I just got out of class, I pro--” she stopped herself mid sentence and shook her head, “I just got done with my last class of the day, I just like, you know, the atmosphere here sometimes cause it gets real quiet and there’s usually no one around in the halls, so reading is easy, but I--” she needed to take a breath, to calm down-- “sorry. Sometimes I talk a lot when I get nervous. Not that I’m nervous! You just kind of...caught me off guard.” But he didn’t seem too perturbed by her frantic rambling and he looked like one of the nicer professors, unlike most of the ones who had permanent furrows in their brows. She looked down at the book in her hands. “Oh, um…” held it up to him, “it’s something Professor Beck lent to me. A-about the history of storytelling and how it influences modern literature and media. Do you, um, know her? Professor Beck? Are you in the lit department, too?”

Slipping his hand into the pocket of his trousers, Ben listened to her ramble with a patient smile on his face. She was one of those students. The anxious, over-eager, not yet self-assured children. Ripe for the picking. And his little gatherings, they were long overdue for a fresh face, for fresh blood. “I was only joking, I’m sorry for making you nervous.” He said with a laugh and apologetic shrug that he didn’t mean. “Or rather-- not nervous.” Ben corrected himself. Watching as she held up the book, his eyes flicked across the cover. It seemed… exactly like the kind of drivel Bitchy Fucking Beck would have in her personal collection. Modern literature and media-- what sort of study was that? Were her students analyzing movies? Or, he shuddered to think, TikToks? Disgusting. But, his expression remained politely intrigued, “Ah yes, Morgan and I are well acquainted. And no, I’m not a member of the literature department, but we work within the same college. I’m a professor of the Classics and not,” Ben let out a wry chuckle, “Literary classics. I teach Greek and Roman classics. I’m sure your book includes some references to the old mythologies and tales from back then.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay! Really! It was mostly my fault. I’m really bad at paying attention, sometimes. Especially when I’m reading a book.” Bex gave her best attempt at a reassuring smile, finding that innate part of her that needed to please adults surfacing again. She perked up a bit when he mentioned knowing Professor Beck. “You are? She’s great, don’t you think? I mean, I’m kind of struggling in her class, but it’s because I’m really bad at creative writing and critical analysis of literature, but I enjoy it! It’s interesting and I like learning new things.” She watched him eye the book before setting it down in her lap again, fiddling with the cover. “Oh, you teach the classics? That’s so cool. I’ve always been interested in studying them academically. I’ve read a lot of books on them-- like, a lot-- but I’ve never taken a class for it! And um, it sort of does, obviously! Story-telling was often used as the only means to pass on history and culture and it was such a large part of both the Greek’s and Roman’s society. I know it’s kind of typical, for people to enjoy Greek mythology, but there’s a reason it’s so popular. But, um, I don’t really have to tell you that, do I?” She chewed her lip anxiously. “Sorry, uh-- I’m Bexley, by the way.” Stood up, holding her hand out. “Professional rambler.”

“Nothing wrong with getting lost in a good book,” Ben said with a nod, “I’m guilty of that particular crime myself.” Among other, actual crimes. But, that was neither here nor there. Watching the way her eyes seemed to light up at the mention of Beck, Ben offered a reassuring smile. She was one of these foolish children who preferred fiction to fact, hm? But, as the girl continued to speak, perhaps, he thought, not. “Ah, regardless of performance, the pursuit of knowledge is a wonderful thing. That’s why we’re all here, right?” He said. Listening patiently as the girl’s words took on a meandering, if anxious, quality, Ben regarded her with a practiced eye. She was young, she hardly looked old enough to order a drink. There was a nervous anxiety that practically bubbled over from within her-- he could see it in the way she played with her book, how she bit her lip, the skittish way she moved. Interesting, very interesting. “Oh no, I’m always happy to hear what fellow lovers of the classics have to say.” He said and shook her hand firmly, a broad smile on his face. “Ben Campbell. Professional Rambler of the Classics. If you ever have the misfortune of attending one of my classes, I can assure you, I have you beat in the rambling department.”

“Oh, do you like reading books, too? What kind? Do you have your own library? Professor Beck has a huge library at her place. She lets me pick whatever I want to read.” Bex gave the professor a genuine grin as he took her hand to shake. He had a firm grip, and she remembered all the times her father told her a man could be judged by how firm his handshake was. She still didn’t understand what that meant. “I’m trying my best, and, really, that’s all I can do right now, right?” Even if that fact still made her feel poorly. She hoped her inability to keep the waver from her voice wasn’t a dead giveaway. She shook it off and readjusted. “Nice to meet you, Professor Campbell! And, well, I mean-- who wouldn’t ramble about the Classics? There’s a lot to say about them, and a lot to, you know-- know.” She wasn’t sure she was making too much sense anymore, but the lack of sleep was getting to her. She really needed to sleep. Rubbing her eyes, she looked around the empty hallway. “Have you taught here long? This is my first year at UMWC so I don’t know a lot of the professors. Or a lot of the staff. Or...students.” She knew Mina, and she knew some of the weird kids in Morgan’s class, and she knew Frank. But that was about it. She really needed more friends. “Sorry! If I’m keeping you, you can go. You probably don’t wanna be stuck talking to some awkward student who’s not even in your class.”

With an amused smile, Ben replied, “Yes, I do. I have a rather large collection of books at my home, as well as in my office. Most of the ones I keep here are related to my classes, but my personal library at home is a bit more diverse. Still, I’m rapidly running out of room in my collection. A pretty common struggle for your average bookworm, I suppose.” He said with a chuckle. “Of course! And I’m sure your professors understand that. What are you majoring, if you don’t mind me asking?” He asked. She knew Beck-- quite closely too, it seemed. But, she’d also said she wasn’t the creative sort. Hm. So how did she know her? “It’s nice to meet as well, Bexley.” He beamed. “I’ve taught here for the past ten years. First as an adjunct but I’m now an associate. Though I doubt you wanted to know that-- suffice to say, I’ve been here for some time. How are you finding your classes? I’m always interested in hearing what students think of the matriculation process.” He said before waving off her concern. “Ah, no, I’m done for the day. Like I said. I value what our student body has to say about the university.”

Bex’s eyes lit up at his words. “You have a library here?” she couldn’t help but ask, not thinking much of it, really. She wanted to see it. Books were her only escape for the longest time. It sounded stupid and cliche, but when you were locked up in a room for most of your life, adventure was where you made it. In hallways, in blanket forts, in books under the bed. She couldn’t help the curious glow in her eyes. “Oh, yeah, I totally get that. Most of the books I have at home are stuffed in my closet, but my dad’s library is pretty big. Though, he really only has law texts and old books on, like, world wars and stuff. I never understood the appeal of them, but I guess some people just like different things. I, uh-- I’m majoring in law. Well, pre-law, but, you know.” She shrugged. “Ten years? Wow, that’s a really long time. You must know this place well.” She wondered if he knew about all the hidden secrets White Crest had. He seemed so normal. But, then again, she seemed normal, too, didn’t she? Sometimes? “Oh, no worries! I don’t mind! Tell me whatever you want, I’ve been told I’m a good listener and I never mind learning more about people. But, uh-- classes are fine! They’re-- I was out for a bit, cause I was um...sick,” she scratched at the back of her neck, “but I’m catching back up, I think. It’s nice to know a lot of the professors here care so much about the students. Penn State felt very...different.” And yet she missed it. Missed the freedom. “That’s where I transferred from. I actually grew up here, but I don’t ever really feel like I did, since my parents sent me to private school.” And there she went, oversharing again. She bit her lip. “Sorry, that was probably more information than you wanted from someone who’s not even in your class.”

“Library is a strong word to describe my office, it’s just a wall with some shelves. But, it’s rather comprehensive, if I do say so myself.” Ben said with faux modesty. Always better to play the bashful professor than to yammer on about how much time and money and effort he had put into his collection. Particularly the money. There were first editions in his collection that librarians dreamed of. “I can’t say I understand the interest in the world wars either, but again. I’m a professor of antiquity. Anything beyond 6th century AD is too new for my tastes. It’s a wonder I can even use a smartphone.” He smiled at his own little joke. “Pre-law, that’s got quite the courseload. How are you finding it compared to Penn state?” He asked, shifting his weight so he could stand more comfortably, his body language relaxed and open as he listened to her ramble. “No, no, it’s quite alright. I grew up in town as well, but I went to college elsewhere, so I can understand that sentiment.”

“Wow,” Bex breathed, “I’m a bit jealous. I think it’s my dream one day to just have an entire room full of books. I...guess that’s really just a library, but they wouldn’t even need to be shelved. Stacks on stacks would be nice. I would shelve the nice ones, though. I’m not a heathen, I take care of my books!” In a way, Professor Campbell almost reminded Bex of Morgan. Less wiccan, though, and more scholarly. “Oh, really? What’s your favorite period? And, well, smartphones can be confusing, but really they’re just small computers. If you ever need help, I can probably show you. I had to show someone else recently how to use her smart phone cause she couldn’t figure out how to change the background wallpaper.” She swallowed, nodding maybe a little too eagerly. “Yeah, yep-- heavy course load. Lots of reading and citing and making sure everything is exactly word for word. My whole family is lawyers and they’ve all got degrees from Harvard, so you’d think it’d come naturally to me, but I guess I didn’t get the right genes. I’m trying my best, though, you know? And UMWC is...smaller than Penn, but I guess it feels...cozier? I liked the freedom I had at Penn state, but it was really high pressure. A lot of the kids in my program here just seem really bored, though. This isn’t a top school for pre-law so you have to get really high scores in order to even think about getting into Yale or Harvard or Princeton, so I think a lot of them are resigned to just going to second rate grad schools. Where’d you go to college?”

“Sounds like the dream of a fellow scholar,” Ben said, voice kind and understanding. She seemed young, impressionable. Eager to learn, eager to please. Interesting. How very interesting. “I’ve gone through the stacks of books phase myself, I know how that is. But, having shelves just really ties a room together. There’s nothing quite like seeing all the spines laid out, the titles staring back at you. It’s a wonderful thing.” He said with a nod. “I’m quite a fan of the first century of the Roman Empire. Marcus Aurelius, his works still hold to this day.” At the girl’s offer, he let out a small laugh, though internally he wanted to roll his eyes. He wasn’t inept. “I appreciate the gesture, but I think I’ll be fine. Thank you for the offer, though!” He said. As she continued to speak-- on and on, about her family, about her inane observations of what the campuses were like-- Ben continued to mentally measure and weigh her. This Bexley girl, she was new to the university, still trying to find her footing. She didn’t know many people, students or staff, she’d admitted that herself. She seemed as though she was struggling with that critical jump that all students experienced when they entered college. And who was he to withhold aid from a student in need? “Ah, I went to Princeton actually. For both undergrad and my doctorate. But, UMWC is still an upstanding school-- it’s no Ivy League, but I can assure you, faculty here are providing just as rigorous of an academic experience.”

“Well, I mean, that would be nice,” Bex sighed, “I don’t think I’d mind teaching all too much, but I’ve already got my future career all planned out.” Not that she was all too excited about it, and she was more than sure that it was getting harder and harder for her to hide that fact. SHe laughed it off and gave a smile. “I can’t wait to have my own library, it really does sound like a dream come true.” Her eyes perked up. “Oh, that’s a good one! The rise of the Roman Empire really is one of the most incredible things to read about. I’ve always wanted to go to Rome and see the remains of the old empire. Have you been?” She smiled up at him again, shifting in her spot. :Ah, right, of course. I just kinda-- like to offer to help. I like feeling like I can help, you know? And, wow, Princeton! That’s a pretty prestigious school. I think my parents really want me to go to Harvard. Did you like Princeton? And yeah, totally! I-I know this school is pretty great and there are a lot of wonderful professors, it just usually helps being at an Ivy League if you wanna get in somewhere like Harvard. Or Princeton. So I’ll just have to, you know, try harder. Which is fine! I can do that.” And hopefully not run herself too ragged in the process.

“As cliche as it is, I can’t help but quote John Lennon-- Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” Ben said, shamelessly using the quote. It was very “motivational poster-esque” but it resonated in students, for one reason or another. “So who’s to say what the future holds? I never thought I’d be a professor either, but I fell in love with academics during my undergraduate degree. Once I figured out that I wanted to teach the coming generations, who all shared my passion? I never looked back.” He replied. “Oh yes, I spent the third year of my doctoral program across Europe, assisting in archeological digs. I must say, I was jealous when I heard they uncovered the tomb of Romulus last February. I would have given anything to see that.” Ben let out a sigh and gave a shrug. As she continued on, babbling away, Ben was beginning to put together a nice little picture of her life. Overbearing parents, who wanted her to be something that-- well, he couldn’t quite tell if she wanted to be that. But, there was a hesitation to her that seemed quite promising. “I enjoyed my experience there quite a bit-- the environment, my peers, the professors… All of them were incredibly influential on my professional journey. And I owe my success to the university.” He smiled, though it faded as she mentioned trying harder. Eyebrows knitting together, he replied, “You know, rest is a very critical part of growth. It never hurts to take a break from time to time.”

Bex felt her immediate reaction bubbling up her throat-- John Lennon was such a problematic man, but of course a white cis man would think his quotes were profound-- but she swallowed it back down, smiling sweetly. “Sometimes cliche is true, though. They’re cliche for a reason, right?” She didn’t like the implication of it, though. Was she so transparent? That she didn’t want the life her parents had laid out for her? She rubbed her arm absently. “I know that, though. That I should stop and enjoy life. But what I want is kind of irrelevant. My family has been lawyers for centuries and every daughter has always taken over the business. So even if I don’t wanna do that, I don’t really have a choice.” But her grievance was immediately dismissed. “Wait-- you’ve been on digs? Like real, actual, digs!? Where you found stuff and you got to-- you got to see it first hand? Which digs? Where were they? What did you find? Oh, god, I nearly cried when they found Romulus’ tomb! What an amazing discovery! Can you even imagine being there for that? Or the new tomb they found in the Valley of King’s? It always feels like we’ve discovered so much, but then we just keep finding more and it’s amazing.” She couldn’t help the sparkle in her eye or the shine in her voice-- this was her true passion and the worst part about being a lawyer was that it made it impossible to chase. “Wow, Princeton sounds amazing. I haven’t done a campus visit yet, but I’ve heard good things about Harvard. If I make it in.” She withdrew a little at that. “I-- I know. And I did! Take a break. Sort of. It was an unintended break, but a break all the same.” If being in a nightmarish dreamscape counted as a break.

“Indeed.” Ben said affably, eyes still analyzing her every move. The way she shifted in place, the way she rubbed her arm, the way her smile seemed a fraction less genuine than it had before. It seemed she wasn’t one for John Lennon. Suited him just fine, the Beatles were vastly overrated and John Lennon was a musician, what bearing did he have on anything that mattered? “I’m just a professor, so… please, you don’t need to take this to heart. But, life is meant to be lived, is it not? And what’s more important to life than choice? The freedom to live as you please and to live without wondering how things might have been different, it’s incredibly important.” He said with a firm nod before easing back slightly, his eyes losing some of their intensity. It seemed as though his mention of his field work had piqued her interest though, which was something else he made note of. If they met again-- and he would make a point of meeting her again-- he would have to bring that up. “I did. Truly incredible, the discovery they made there was absolutely groundbreaking. Literally, given how the dig went.” Ben joked. “History is absolutely like that. Just when we think we know it all, our ancestors surprise us.” Glancing down at his watch, Ben raised his eyebrows, as though startled by how much time had passed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you. It’s not everyday I meet such a remarkable student like yourself, though.” Reaching into his jacket, he withdrew one of his cards and handed it to Bex. “If you’re ever interested in talking more-- about archeology or the Ivy Leagues, please feel free to contact me. I also have office hours on Thursday and Fridays, my door is open to you.” He said with a bright, toothy smile.

Bex went still when he started explaining. It was the same things Morgan always told her, that her choice mattered, her wants mattered-- but it wasn’t as easy as all that. She had duties, she had responsibilities. Leaving that life just wasn’t an option. Her parents had made sure to drill that into her from a young age. This was her life, this would always be her life. She had no choice. Her eyes sank to the floor, she no longer felt brave enough to look him in the eye, even as he described his incredible experience of being part of a dig, being a part of history itself. It should have made her heart flutter to hear about it, but something inside of her told her to stop letting herself believe that one day she might get to have something like that, too. She nodded slowly. “No, it’s fine! You didn’t keep me,” she said, trying to keep the smile plastered to her face as she glanced up enough to take the card he was offering her. She stared at the neatly typed words pressed onto the paper. Benjamin Campbell. Professor of the Classics. His information was included below the title. “Remarkable?” she repeated, unsure if she’d heard that word right. “But I’m not even--” in any of his classes. But as she looked at him, she knew the offer was genuine. Her smile came a little easier this time. “Thank you. Really. For-- for this.” She pocketed the card. “It was really great to meet you, Professor. I’ll um-- I’ll see you around. I usually tend to read here most days so, you know.” She chewed her lip before grabbing her bag. “Thanks. A-again.” She needed to stop saying thanks, Mina would kill her if she knew. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.” And then with that, she scurried off, the business card, and a million questions, burning a hole in her pocket. She couldn’t wait to talk to him again-- maybe things really weren’t as bad as they felt. Maybe she could have a good life here.

#chatzy #chatzy: ben #wickedswriting #classic blunder #ben #domestic abuse mention tw #//the mention is in the very first paragraph if people wanna skip

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fanfic-collection · 4 years ago

Text

Loki x Reader: October 24 - Maze

This one went really long

“Hurry up!” Stacy, your roommate called. “We're going to be late.”

You rolled your eyes and returned to applying the last of your exaggerated makeup, completing your Cleopatra features. “I'm going, I'm going.” You called back, moving from the bathroom and back into your room where you pulled the costume from its plastic bag and carefully unfolded it. Slipping it over your head, you slid it down your body as quickly as you could, mindful of the flimsy fabric and how cheap it had been at the Halloween store, one of the last available options.

One last passing glance in the mirror, a fluff of your wig, a quick nod, and smile, and you headed down to the waiting car.

Stacy snorted and shook her head when she saw you, “Is that really call you could find?”

“What?” You replied, fastening the golden sandals that strapped halfway up your knees, already buckled into the seat.

Stacy had definitely put more effort into her costume than you had: a zombie with realistic blood makeup and even some prosthetics on her face for a ripped out cheek and a blind eye. “You really went all out.” She rolled her eyes, once more focusing on the road.

“I've been busy studying! I almost didn't go tonight.”

“Ya I know.” Stacy shoved your shoulder, turning the car at a stop sign, “I swear if they didn't promise extra credit for dressing up and attending this, you wouldn't have gone.”

“I wouldn't have. There's a test in four days, I could get a lot of time studying in if I didn't go tonight. And besides, I have homework in other classes that I could be working on.”

“You and I both know that you've finished it.”

“I had to take time off work for this.” You added.

Stacy rolled her eyes again, grumbling under her breath.

Stacy's parent's may have paid her way fully through college and not expected a dime in return but you had debts. You were hoping to graduate magna cum laude at least, if you could manage better, you knew it would look a lot nicer on future resumes. A political science major wasn't the most competitive of job markets but you knew it was what you wanted to do. And you knew tonight's Halloween party would look good if you attended, despite the monetary loss at not working.

The car rolled to a stop behind a long line of over cars parked at the end of a long driveway. In the distance you could see an old Victorian manor, more of a mansion than a house.

“That tenure pays well, huh.” Stacy muttered as you shut the door and walked over beside her.

You whistled softly. “No kidding...”

The two of you made the long trek towards the house, the many windows decorated with spooky decorations and some of the upstairs windows had flashing lights as though there were fires alight in them. Giant cobwebs littered the lawn with hordes of skeletons and spiders stalking towards the house.

You and Stacy climbed up the front stoop, a large wrap around front porch that disappeared onto each side of the house and you reached to ring the doorbell, stopping when you saw a sign that read, “Enter if you dare.”

You glanced at Stacy.

Stacy shook her head, “Guess it's open invitation.” She took the handle and turned it, unsurprised to find it unlocked, and stepped inside.

Boisterous noise blasted out at you, interrupting the relative silence that you had just been in, as long as a wave of warm air; you realized how chilly it had been outside as you stepped in finally warming up and gaining feeling in your fingers and toes again. The sandals you wore were not ideal for the cool fall weather.

The head of the department came over with two glasses of punch and a twinkle in his eyes, “Ahh two of my favorite students, I'm so glad you could make it. I'll be sure to put your names down in the guest book. Welcome, welcome.” He pushed the punch into your hands.

“Hey Professor J.” Stacy said with a wide grin.

“Professor Johnson.” You inclined your head, holding up the punch glass and taking a sip.

“Please tonight I'm Jeff. Well,” The professor held up the traces of bandages he had wrapped around himself, “I'm more of a mummy if you will, but you can call me Jeff.”

You snorted, he still wore his tweed jacket and brown dress pants but had attempted to wrap what looked like a little bit of toilet paper around his head and torso and age it with some tan paint. At least attempt is all the costumes would be counted for you figured.

Stacy mumbled into her glass, “Nice mummy.”

Jeff looked between the two of you, “My now, so who are you supposed to be, hmm, let me guess. I think we have a zombie and hmm... is that Cleopatra?”

You pointed your finger at him, with a smile, “That's the one.”

Jeff grinned, a teasing look on his face. “Well there's a roman you'll have to keep an eye out for. He never said who exactly he was, but I could see him being a fine Mark Antony. Did you do that on purpose?”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks. “What, I, no? I didn't know anyone was dressed like this, I just chose this costume because it was cute and well available...” You trailed off lamely.

Jeff clapped his hands together, “Right-o, the drama unfolds. This is the sort of thing you would expect in the drama department, not the poli-sci. But Cleopatra and Mark Antony did play at politics. I won't keep you, please mingle and there is a haunted maze that leads to the mother-in-law house out back. We hired some theater students to keep it nice and scary for anyone who tries to complete it.” The front door opened again, “I have to go greet some other students, Jason, Richard, hello! I'm so glad you two could come!” The professor turned away to grab more punch and his focus was lost from you and Stacy.

“I wonder who your mystery Roman is.” Stacy said, grabbing your arm and dragging you towards the main room.

Different groups of people were smattered here and there in bunches of friends or otherwise groups of people who knew each other, chatting, gossiping, just generally getting along. Stacy moved from group to group, checking in with different acquaintances and friends. Sometimes she would stand for a few minutes, other times longer. All the while, you kept craning your head around, trying to find who the mysterious Roman was.

“Hey, I think I see a Roman.” Stacy said, moving towards another group.

You perked up, growing tired of mingling with people. You had never been the most social of butterflies.

Your mouth fell open as he turned around. “Loki?”

The Roman looked to see who had said his name and he stared down at you. For a moment, with the makeup and wig, he didn't seem to recognize you, then he saw your eyes and realization dawned on him. “No...” He breathed your name softly.

“Yes.” You nodded.

“You're Mark Antony?”

Loki cleared his throat, “Not exactly.”

“How did you know I would be Cleopatra?”

One of your good friends from an English class hurried over, having left a group of friends who were all gawking at the two of you, “So are you two finally dating?”

Your faced flushed, you could feel it burning down to your chest, as you crossed your arms and sputtered, “Well, I mean, I wouldn't say, I, um.”

Loki cleared his throat, his face tinged pink, “No, not, I mean, maybe, no,” He coughed.

You and Loki looked at each other then quickly looked away.

Your friend looked at the two of you and hurried off to report back to the others.

You slumped your shoulders and glanced up at Loki, he looked down at you.

“I had no idea you were going as Cleopatra.” Loki muttered.

“I didn't know you were going as-”

Loki interrupted you, “The easiest and least amount of effort I could think of, a Roman, everyone decided I was Mark Antony when the rumor that Cleopatra was going to be here, and that she was you.”

“Stacy.” You grumbled.

Loki sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

An undergrad walked by and casually said, “Nice couples' costume, loved that movie.”

Loki had been your best friend since you started college and declared your political science major. He was double majoring in political science and astrophysics, with a minor in history. How he was maintaining his grades so well and not looking like the walking dead, was beyond you. You expected having rich parents helped, but still, you admired that he was able to maintain a double major. He was quietly wealthy, never flaunted it and strove to work hard for himself, you could tell he earned what was his, he had fought for his place in this world. You knew of his golden brother, whom he spoke bitterly of that things always seem to come to him, seemed to be handed to. You understood that. The two of you had quickly bonded and had grown quite close over the years, being near constant companions, helped along by the fact that you had many classes together. Also, you studied a lot together. Things you struggled in, he was helpful at teaching you, and things he struggled in, well even if you didn't understand astrophysics, you could slow him down and get him to think it through until he could work it out. And sometimes, you did understand it, you could see the missing piece that he wouldn't see and connect it for him. You figured if you were in the class learning the subject, you just might do well, and he often praised you for it. It made you feel good.

Rumors had sprung up, a will they won't they type thing. You had heard of them vaguely, but never paid much stock. But now tonight, it seemed as though finally, like a wall, they were hitting you. And as you glanced up at Loki, his hair slicked back, feathered down to his shoulders, Roman helmet held under one arm, his tall pale forehead, green eyes staring down at you, sharp cheekbones, thin nose, sharp angular jaw, and thin pale lips... maybe, just maybe there was something to the rumors.

“There's an apple bobbing trough.” You croaked, weakly, “Want to?” You mimed bobbing for apples.

Loki nodded quickly, “Yes, certainly, let's.”

You took his hand, a normal enough gesture, but tonight it felt electrical. Glancing down then back at him, you wondered if he felt it too. His eyes lingered on your hand before looking up and making contact with yours, lingering a second too long. You forced yourself to look forward dragging him towards the trough and biting your lip as you walked.

“Alright.” You said, kneeling down before the trough, “I'll go first?”

Loki nodded, “I'll hold your hair.”

You nodded stiffly, inhaling as you turned to face the trough. The feel of Loki's fingers brush along the back of your neck nearly elicited a moan and you immediately plunged your face into the trough, thankful for waterproof makeup. Loki kept his fingers painstakingly still, not daring to touch your skin and it took everything you had not to gasp and drown. Eventually you managed to grab an apple, biting into it and pulling up out of the water, gasping for air. You beamed, chest heaving as you held the apple out before taking a mighty bite.

Loki chuckled, “Very well, my turn.” He knelt down before the trough and glanced back at you, and you realized you were to hold his hair back. Swallowing hard, you stepped close to him, gently grabbing his hair into a bundle and holding it back. It felt heavenly and once again that electrical touch when your had brushed against the base of his neck; you bit your lip.

Loki resurfaced, an apple of his own in his mouth. He took the apple lazily and bit a chunk out of it.

“Touche.” You looked around, “I've talked with everyone I've felt like talking to tonight...”

“As have I.” Loki agreed looking around.

“There's a dance floor, but the music isn't...”

“Johnson's music taste not up to your standard?”

“I like spooky Halloween hits but I think he could stand to change the CD now, has anyone introduced him to like, Spotify, or the internet?”

Loki laughed, and grabbed your hand, dragging you towards the dance area, “The Monster Mash is indeed timeless.”

“I don't doubt it but after the fourth or fifth time.” You laughed back, dancing with him.

You and Loki danced for a little while, listening to the music that Jeff had picked out, though really wishing for some variety.

Finally the music grating on your nerves, you remembered the promise of the haunted house outside. The two of you made your way towards the back door, winding your way through the house, occasionally chatting with other people who had made it to other rooms while exploring the house. There were a series of signs pointing in the direction of the haunted house and you found yourself appreciating them because it would have taken much longer to reach it.

At last you reached the back door and opened it, stepping into a blow up tunnel that blocked you from the chilly wind.

You and Loki exchanged a glance, “I guess it starts here.” He said.

“I guess so.” You replied.”

You both stepped into the blowup tunnel and bounced along, fighting to keep your balance as ghostly cries filled the air. The back door of the house shut and blocking off the music and conversation of the house within. Ghostly wails filled the air, frankly more comedic than scary, given the nature of the bouncy tunnel, but you worked with what you had.

Reaching the end, the tunnel spat you out and you and Loki collapsed onto the grassy ground, a small maze of chain link fences leading to the mother-in-law suite. In different places, there was black paper so you couldn't see through the chain link. Flashing strobe lights filled the air and a fog machine summoned heavy layers of fog. Loud disorienting metal music screamed out at you, blaring in your ears, so loud you could barely think.

“Get up!” Loki yelled over the cacophony, offering his hand to you and pulling you to your feet.

You scrunched your eyes shut, the strobe lights making your head hurt. Trying to squint and look around, you held tight to Loki's eyes as he led you through the maze.

A gorilla leapt out at you from one of the chain link enclosures, screaming and shaking the fence. You rounded another turn and a guy in stripes shoved his face at you, laughing maniacally, tugging at bendable rubber bars.

Then just as quickly, you were out of the chain link maze and Loki opened the door to the house.

You blinked several times, trying to get rid of the strobe lights, and adjust your eyes to the darkness.

“Damn those lights.” Loki muttered.

You smacked your head a few times, as though hoping to get the flashing and noise out, “No kidding, thanks for leading us.”

Loki nodded, looking back at you with concern, “Are you alright?”

“Just a little, fuzzed up. I'll be fine.”

Loki wrapped his arm around your shoulder and held you close, once more taking the lead.

The two of you walked into the kitchen, a bloody crime scene had occurred, someone had been murdered and dismembered. A women lay on the ground pleading for help. “He's going to come back, please... please, you've got to help me.” She groaned.

Loki kept walking.

You looked at her fearfully.

“He's coming!” The bloody woman cried.

A man with a chainsaw came running from behind you and you screamed, running ahead.

“No, don't!” Loki cried, rushing after you.

You ran into the next room where a contortionist was rolling around on the floor, body twisted into all sorts of unnatural shapes. Stopping you moaned weakly, looking as they uncoiled and began to crawl upside down towards you.

Loki finally reached you and guided you away from them, on to the next room.

From behind you, you could hear the cackles of the contortionist filling the air.

The two of you passed through a long hallway and a zombie bride walked out, dress bloodied and torn, “Have you seen my husband?”

“N-no.” You stammered.

“Good, I ate him!” She jeered.

Loki continued to guide you, the next room had eerie green lights and was filled floor to ceiling with all manner of dolls, old and new, porcelain and cloth, cracked and torn and well cared for.

“I never much cared for dolls.” Loki muttered.

“Dolls are freaky, period.”

An especially large doll in the corner slowly started to stand, her porcelain face slowly contorting into a look of rage. You and Loki screamed, you clung to his chest and Loki wrapped his arms around you protectively. Behind you the chainsaw man appeared and screamed, “GET OUT NOW!”

A door opened and you and Loki ran for the door, Loki almost carrying you, as you exited to the outside.

There was a small shed type building with a creepy clown holding water laughing and giggling, “Congratulations, you survived.” He said in a singsong voice. “Do you want a picture, I won't take a no.”

“Wha-?” You panted for breath, doubled over.

Loki looked between you and the clown and took the water suspiciously before drinking it.

The clown danced over to the table where a single printer sat. He waggled his fingers until a picture slowly finished printing. “Here you are now!” Once again he giggled in a disturbing voice and you realized he was part of the haunted house attraction.

Taking the picture from him, Loki sighed and rolled his eyes, “Here.” He handed it to you.

It was the final scare, Loki holding you protectively in his arms as you clung to him fearfully. If anyone saw this there would be no denying how you two really felt for each other.

The clown honked his nose as he looked between the two of you, an obnoxious grin on his face.

“Well that's some damning evidence.” You muttered, taking a sip of your water.

Loki chuckled, adjusting his cape.

“Can I catch a ride with you?” You asked.

“You're fine with it?”

“Are you?”

“Extremely.”

“Yea, me too.” You stood on your toes and kissed his cheek. “I'm more than fine with it.”

#Loki x reader #ficbit #one shot #october 2020

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emerald-studies · 4 years ago

Photo

The revolutionary Nelson Mandela

Early Life

Mandela was born on July 18, 1918, in the tiny village of Mvezo, on the banks of the Mbashe River in Transkei, South Africa.

His birth name was Rolihlahla Mandela. "Rolihlahla" in the Xhosa language literally means "pulling the branch of a tree," but more commonly translates as "troublemaker."

Mandela's father, who was destined to be a chief, served as a counselor to tribal chiefs for several years but lost both his title and fortune over a dispute with the local colonial magistrate.

Mandela was only an infant at the time, and his father's loss of status forced his mother to move the family to Qunu, an even smaller village north of Mvezo. The village was nestled in a narrow grassy valley; there were no roads, only footpaths that linked the pastures where livestock grazed.

The family lived in huts and ate a local harvest of maize, sorghum, pumpkin and beans, which was all they could afford. Water came from springs and streams and cooking was done outdoors.

Mandela played the games of young boys, acting out male right-of-passage scenarios with toys he made from the natural materials available, including tree branches and clay.

Education

At the suggestion of one of his father's friends, Mandela was baptized in the Methodist Church. He went on to become the first in his family to attend school. As was custom at the time, and probably due to the bias of the British educational system in South Africa, Mandela's teacher told him that his new first name would be Nelson.

When Mandela was 12 years old, his father died of lung disease, causing his life to change dramatically. He was adopted by Chief Jongintaba Dalindyebo, the acting regent of the Thembu people — a gesture done as a favor to Mandela's father, who, years earlier, had recommended Jongintaba be made chief.

Mandela subsequently left the carefree life he knew in Qunu, fearing that he would never see his village again. He traveled by motorcar to Mqhekezweni, the provincial capital of Thembuland, to the chief's royal residence. Though he had not forgotten his beloved village of Qunu, he quickly adapted to the new, more sophisticated surroundings of Mqhekezweni.

Mandela was given the same status and responsibilities as the regent's two other children, his son and oldest child, Justice, and daughter Nomafu. Mandela took classes in a one-room school next to the palace, studying English, Xhosa, history and geography.

It was during this period that Mandela developed an interest in African history, from elder chiefs who came to the Great Palace on official business. He learned how the African people had lived in relative peace until the coming of the white people.

According to the elders, the children of South Africa had previously lived as brothers, but white men had shattered this fellowship. While Black men shared their land, air and water with white people, white men took all of these things for themselves.

Political Awakening

When Mandela was 16, it was time for him to partake in the traditional African circumcision ritual to mark his entrance into manhood. The ceremony of circumcision was not just a surgical procedure, but an elaborate ritual in preparation for manhood.

In African tradition, an uncircumcised man cannot inherit his father's wealth, marry or officiate at tribal rituals. Mandela participated in the ceremony with 25 other boys. He welcomed the opportunity to partake in his people's customs and felt ready to make the transition from boyhood to manhood.

His mood shifted during the proceedings, however, when Chief Meligqili, the main speaker at the ceremony, spoke sadly of the young men, explaining that they were enslaved in their own country. Because their land was controlled by white men, they would never have the power to govern themselves, the chief said.

He went on to lament that the promise of the young men would be squandered as they struggled to make a living and perform mindless chores for white men. Mandela would later say that while the chief's words didn't make total sense to him at the time, they would eventually formulate his resolve for an independent South Africa.

University Life

Under the guardianship of Regent Jongintaba, Mandela was groomed to assume high office, not as a chief, but a counselor to one. As Thembu royalty, Mandela attended a Wesleyan mission school, the Clarkebury Boarding Institute and Wesleyan College, where, he would later state, he achieved academic success through "plain hard work."

He also excelled at track and boxing. Mandela was initially mocked as a "country boy" by his Wesleyan classmates, but eventually became friends with several students, including Mathona, his first female friend.

In 1939, Mandela enrolled at the University of Fort Hare, the only residential center of higher learning for Black people in South Africa at the time. Fort Hare was considered Africa's equivalent of Harvard, drawing scholars from all parts of sub-Saharan Africa.

In his first year at the university, Mandela took the required courses, but focused on Roman-Dutch law to prepare for a career in civil service as an interpreter or clerk — regarded as the best profession that a Black man could obtain at the time.

In his second year at Fort Hare, Mandela was elected to the Student Representative Council. For some time, students had been dissatisfied with the food and lack of power held by the SRC. During this election, a majority of students voted to boycott unless their demands were met.

Aligning with the student majority, Mandela resigned from his position. Seeing this as an act of insubordination, the university expelled Mandela for the rest of the year and gave him an ultimatum: He could return to the school if he agreed to serve on the SRC. When Mandela returned home, the regent was furious, telling him unequivocally that he would have to recant his decision and go back to school in the fall.

A few weeks after Mandela returned home, Regent Jongintaba announced that he had arranged a marriage for his adopted son. The regent wanted to make sure that Mandela's life was properly planned, and the arrangement was within his right, as tribal custom dictated.

Shocked by the news, feeling trapped and believing that he had no other option than to follow this recent order, Mandela ran away from home. He settled in Johannesburg, where he worked a variety of jobs, including as a guard and a clerk, while completing his bachelor's degree via correspondence courses. He then enrolled at the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg to study law.

Anti-Apartheid Movement

Mandela soon became actively involved in the anti-apartheid movement, joining the African National Congress in 1942. Within the ANC, a small group of young Africans banded together, calling themselves the African National Congress Youth League. Their goal was to transform the ANC into a mass grassroots movement, deriving strength from millions of rural peasants and working people who had no voice under the current regime.

Specifically, the group believed that the ANC's old tactics of polite petitioning were ineffective. In 1949, the ANC officially adopted the Youth League's methods of boycott, strike, civil disobedience and non-cooperation, with policy goals of full citizenship, redistribution of land, trade union rights, and free and compulsory education for all children.

For 20 years, Mandela directed peaceful, nonviolent acts of defiance against the South African government and its racist policies, including the 1952 Defiance Campaign and the 1955 Congress of the People. He founded the law firm Mandela and Tambo, partnering with Oliver Tambo, a brilliant student he'd met while attending Fort Hare. The law firm provided free and low-cost legal counsel to unrepresented Black people.

In 1956, Mandela and 150 others were arrested and charged with treason for their political advocacy (they were eventually acquitted). Meanwhile, the ANC was being challenged by Africanists, a new breed of Black activists who believed that the pacifist method of the ANC was ineffective.

Africanists soon broke away to form the Pan-Africanist Congress, which negatively affected the ANC; by 1959, the movement had lost much of its militant support.

Wife and Children

Mandela was married three times and had six children. He wed his first wife, Evelyn Ntoko Mase, in 1944. The couple had four children together: Madiba Thembekile (d. 1964), Makgatho (d. 2005), Makaziwe (d. 1948 at nine months old) and Maki. The couple divorced in 1957.

In 1958, Mandela wed Winnie Madikizela. The couple had two daughters together, Zenani (Argentina's South African ambassador) and Zindziswa (the South African ambassador to Denmark), before separating in 1996.

Two years later, in 1998, Mandela married Graca Machel, the first Education Minister of Mozambique, with whom he remained until his death in 2013.

Prison Years

Formerly committed to nonviolent protest, Mandela began to believe that armed struggle was the only way to achieve change. In 1961, Mandela co-founded Umkhonto we Sizwe, also known as MK, an armed offshoot of the ANC dedicated to sabotage and use guerilla war tactics to end apartheid.

In 1961, Mandela orchestrated a three-day national workers' strike. He was arrested for leading the strike the following year and was sentenced to five years in prison. In 1963, Mandela was brought to trial again. This time, he and 10 other ANC leaders were sentenced to life imprisonment for political offenses, including sabotage.

Mandela spent 27 years in prison, from November 1962 until February 1990. He was incarcerated on Robben Island for 18 of his 27 years in prison. During this time, he contracted tuberculosis and, as a Black political prisoner, received the lowest level of treatment from prison workers. However, while incarcerated, Mandela was able to earn a Bachelor of Law degree through a University of London correspondence program.

A 1981 memoir by South African intelligence agent Gordon Winter described a plot by the South African government to arrange for Mandela's escape so as to shoot him during the recapture; the plot was foiled by British intelligence.

Mandela continued to be such a potent symbol of Black resistance that a coordinated international campaign for his release was launched, and this international groundswell of support exemplified the power and esteem that Mandela had in the global political community.

In 1982, Mandela and other ANC leaders were moved to Pollsmoor Prison, allegedly to enable contact between them and the South African government. In 1985, President P.W. Botha offered Mandela's release in exchange for renouncing armed struggle; the prisoner flatly rejected the offer.

F. W. de Klerk

With increasing local and international pressure for his release, the government participated in several talks with Mandela over the ensuing years, but no deal was made.

It wasn't until Botha suffered a stroke and was replaced by Frederik Willem de Klerk that Mandela's release was finally announced, on February 11, 1990. De Klerk also lifted the ban on the ANC, removed restrictions on political groups and suspended executions.

Upon his release from prison, Mandela immediately urged foreign powers not to reduce their pressure on the South African government for constitutional reform. While he stated that he was committed to working toward peace, he declared that the ANC's armed struggle would continue until the Black majority received the right to vote.

In 1991, Mandela was elected president of the African National Congress, with lifelong friend and colleague Oliver Tambo serving as national chairperson.

Nobel Peace Prize

In 1993, Mandela and President de Klerk were jointly awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for their work toward dismantling apartheid in South Africa.

After Mandela’s release from prison, he negotiated with President de Klerk toward the country's first multiracial elections. White South Africans were willing to share power, but many Black South Africans wanted a complete transfer of power.

The negotiations were often strained, and news of violent eruptions, including the assassination of ANC leader Chris Hani, continued throughout the country. Mandela had to keep a delicate balance of political pressure and intense negotiations amid the demonstrations and armed resistance.

Presidency

Due in no small part to the work of Mandela and President de Klerk, negotiations between Black and white South Africans prevailed: On April 27, 1994, South Africa held its first democratic elections. Mandela was inaugurated as the country's first Black president on May 10, 1994, at the age of 77, with de Klerk as his first deputy.

From 1994 until June 1999, President Mandela worked to bring about the transition from minority rule and apartheid to Black majority rule. He used the nation's enthusiasm for sports as a pivot point to promote reconciliation between white and Black people, encouraging Black South Africans to support the once-hated national rugby team.

In 1995, South Africa came to the world stage by hosting the Rugby World Cup, which brought further recognition and prestige to the young republic. That year Mandela was also awarded the Order of Merit.

During his presidency, Mandela also worked to protect South Africa's economy from collapse. Through his Reconstruction and Development Plan, the South African government funded the creation of jobs, housing and basic health care.

In 1996, Mandela signed into law a new constitution for the nation, establishing a strong central government based on majority rule, and guaranteeing both the rights of minorities and the freedom of expression.

Retirement and Later Career

By the 1999 general election, Mandela had retired from active politics. He continued to maintain a busy schedule, however, raising money to build schools and clinics in South Africa's rural heartland through his foundation, and serving as a mediator in Burundi's civil war.

Mandela was diagnosed and treated for prostate cancer in 2001. In June 2004, at the age of 85, he announced his formal retirement from public life and returned to his native village of Qunu.

The Elders

On July 18, 2007, Mandela and wife Graca Machel co-founded The Elders, a group of world leaders aiming to work both publicly and privately to find solutions to some of the world's toughest issues. The group included Desmond Tutu, Kofi Annan, Ela Bhatt, Gro Harlem Brundtland, Jimmy Carter, Li Zhaoxing, Mary Robinson and Muhammad Yunus.

The Elders' impact has spanned Asia, the Middle East and Africa, and their actions have included promoting peace and women's equality, demanding an end to atrocities, and supporting initiatives to address humanitarian crises and promote democracy.

In addition to advocating for peace and equality on both a national and global scale, in his later years, Mandela remained committed to the fight against AIDS. His son Makgatho died of the disease in 2005.

Relationship With Barack Obama

Mandela made his last public appearance at the final match of the World Cup in South Africa in 2010. He remained largely out of the spotlight in his later years, choosing to spend much of his time in his childhood community of Qunu, south of Johannesburg.

He did, however, visit with U.S. first lady Michelle Obama, wife of President Barack Obama, during her trip to South Africa in 2011. Barack Obama, while a junior senator from Illinois, also met with Mandela during his 2005 trip to the United States.

Death

Mandela died on December 5, 2013, at the age of 95 in his home in Johannesburg, South Africa. After suffering a lung infection in January 2011, Mandela was briefly hospitalized in Johannesburg to undergo surgery for a stomach ailment in early 2012.

He was released after a few days, later returning to Qunu. Mandela would be hospitalized many times over the next several years — in December 2012, March 2013 and June 2013 — for further testing and medical treatment relating to his recurrent lung infection.

Following his June 2013 hospital visit, Machel, canceled a scheduled appearance in London to remain at her husband's side, and his daughter, Zenani Dlamini, flew back from Argentina to South Africa to be with her father.

Jacob Zuma, South Africa's president, issued a statement in response to public concern over Mandela's March 2013 health scare, asking for support in the form of prayer: "We appeal to the people of South Africa and the world to pray for our beloved Madiba and his family and to keep them in their thoughts," Zuma said.

On the day of Mandela’s death, Zuma released a statement speaking to Mandela's legacy: "Wherever we are in the country, wherever we are in the world, let us reaffirm his vision of a society ... in which none is exploited, oppressed or dispossessed by another," he said.

Movie and Books

In 1994, Mandela published his autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom, much of which he had secretly written while in prison. The book inspired the 2013 movie Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom.

He also published a number of books on his life and struggles, among them No Easy Walk to Freedom; Nelson Mandela: The Struggle Is My Life; and Nelson Mandela's Favorite African Folktales.

Mandela Day

In 2009, Mandela's birthday (July 18) was declared Mandela Day, an international day to promote global peace and celebrate the South African leader's legacy. According to the Nelson Mandela Foundation, the annual event is meant to encourage citizens worldwide to give back the way that Mandela has throughout his lifetime.

A statement on the Nelson Mandela Foundation's website reads: "Mr. Mandela gave 67 years of his life fighting for the rights of humanity. All we are asking is that everyone gives 67 minutes of their time, whether it’s supporting your chosen charity or serving your local community." (source)

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