#her stuff was the catalyst that really got me studying english back in the day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

auzzzilly96 · 1 month

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Could I learn about your B and James interprets lore 🥺🥺🥺

Errrm well tbh I kinda already said most of the stuff abt my interps the last time I was asked but I guess there r a few more things I could talk abt :3

Mk sooo more abt B’s whole being way older than he should be thing n more abt what his life was like b4 he got lost in the backrooms. So pretty much he was born in the year 1950 in America around the Texas-Louisiana border[silly goofy projection we will not see more of that later definitely not]. He was pretty poor for most of his life, especially in childhood, but they made it work. He might have had siblings idk, neither does he [boom vague Reagan reference where is my gold sticker/SILLY] He was very close with his mother bc his father wasn’t around a lot, mostly out working bc the whole living in poverty thingg. He actually learned 2 speak japanese b4 he learned english bc that was his mom’s native language so that’s pretty silly :3. Well everything was well and fine for about the next 20 years but then uh oh! B’s mom becomes terribly ill one day and ends up dying a few months later! [how sad] This event is pretty much the catalyst 4 every bad thing that happens in B’s life 4 the next like 50 years. Cuz a bit b4 this he’d found out how to no clip and did it a few times but he was just so distraught in the moment that he just kinda went 2 the backrooms and just walked around 4 so long until he passed out n when he woke up he couldn’t no clip back soo yeah that’s basically his epic backstory yay. On the lighter side this is something I meant 2 explain A WHILE ago but just kinda forgor abt it so sad ik but uhm this dude n his fuck ass jacket omg. Basically his like overcoat thing is like a backrooms artifact n its pockets r basically like tiny little openings 2 an empty pocket [pun not intended] dimensions that just stores stuff n that’s it. As long as something can fit around the opening it can be put in the pocket. That’s y blud was pulling out whole ass water bottles n flashlights from them in my fic [read my fic btw chapter 4 just came out last month] Also this blud is like ADDICTED 2 Almond Water actually………. Like. this guy can’t go 15 milliseconds without a lil sip. Smh this goofy ass guy😔😔[SILLY]…..

Ok now James’s epic backstory yippie 😁😁💥💥!!!!!!! oke so like I already talked abt his sad backstory where he lost his eyes n stuff but ig I'll talk abt what he was like b4 that :3. So basically growing up she was treated as like a child prodigy. Like. VERY good in school. Skipping a couple grades type beat. With her being so “gifted” n all she wasn’t really ever given a chance to be. like. a normal kid. Everything throughout her life up until the “accident” was always just focused on just “being the best at everything™” bc that was the mentality that was instilled upon them by their parents. And oh boy. The parental issue I gave this mf. Unreal. Someone needs 2 lock me up[JOKE]. Bro’s whole life he was constantly told over n over again “work work work study study study get into a good collage be successful be somebody important” nothing but that for like 15 years. Like bro had no friends until the age of 26. shitz crazy[silly]. So like time goes by n he’s successful in school n college n gets his job as a professional chemist. So fun n good she did what she was suppose 2 yippiiee nothing could go possibly wrong!! But then the whole explody eyes go bye bye thing happens [not as fun]. N so now this is the catalyst 4 their suffering yippie <3 [sarc] N it’s kinda ironic bc the reason he ended up being so careless in that moment was bc his upbringing made him so unreasonably confident in his abilities that he disregarded even the most basic of safety protocol. So anyways bro wakes up in the hospital blind, scared, confused and alone. Is told what happened. Is so mortified that she has a meltdown right then n there [things r not off 2 the best start]. Not just over the life long facial disfigurement but also over the fact that they failed. They failed to be the perfect scientific prodigy they were supposed 2 be. N in the process, didn’t just fall themself but failed everyone who ever believed in them[At least that’s what they thought at the time]. Like bro didn’t even get fired he CHOSE 2 resign bc he was so ashamed of himself n what he’d done. a lot of this built up trauma n self resentment is y she’s so attached B n Hashely bc they were rlly like 1st ppl in her life 2 show her any kind of unconditional support or affection. Bc after the accident when she was at her absolute lowest point her parents like just softcore cut her off. Like. she tried multiple times after the fact 2 try n contact them but nothing ever came back so they just stopped trying after a while :( Also kinda related is that I think their hair is like naturally curly but they straighten it bc it being curly reminds them of the past n they HATE being reminded of the past.

Erm ok kinda ended in a doomer note but erm oh well :33

#srry this took a bit I needed time to yap properly :3 #austin ramblez #dave and bambi popcorn edition #headcanons

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poetrusicperry · 3 years

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A Meddling Friend

charlie dalton one shot

word count: 2,380

warnings: none

notes: soooo i wrote a matchmaker!charlie one shot because i felt like it heh (also there is no way charlie isn’t the best matchmaker around tbh)... here it is (:

A Meddling Friend

When Charlie “Nuwanda” Dalton set out to do something, hardly anything could stand in his way. A meddler by plain terms, Charlie butted his way into any situation, whether he saw a benefit in it for himself or for others. Oftentimes, Charlie’s triumphs would stem from wanting to succeed. In what? The possibilities were endless. He had once convinced his entire chemistry class to fudge their hardest experiment of the year (“Look, the teacher can’t possibly fail all of us; a failure on all of us means gigantic failure on him,” he’d said pointedly), he’d tricked his younger sister into begging their parents for a dog, despite her allergies (when asked about why he didn’t just ask his parents for a dog, he claimed they were much more inclined to appease his sister), and he’d smooth-talked his way into a date to the Ridgeway Junior Prom at a diner in town on a dare (“Now I have a hot date and five bucks from all of you”). His successes were plentiful, and there was no end in sight.

So when Charlie had endured months of secret glances between his best friend, Neil, and Neil’s roommate, Todd (not to mention the awkward, weighted silences and painfully obvious unsaid words), Charlie decided to do what he did best: meddle.

The leaves were in their adolescence on the trees; varying shades of orange and red made campus seem ablaze. Charlie would find himself, on multiple occasions, staring out the window when he was supposed to be paying attention in class. Today was no different– the leaves were beckoning, and Charlie’s eyes sat fixed upon them until he heard his name being called from the front of the room,

“Mr. Dalton?” being at the back of the room, everyone turned in their desks to look at Charlie.

“Yes, sir?” he replied, unfazed. Dr. Hager had begun to go into detail about the question he had just asked Charlie, but Charlie’s gaze was, again, caught. This time, by Todd, who was the only person not looking at Charlie; Todd was looking at Neil. Charlie hadn’t heard a word his teacher had said, more focused on the fact that Todd was gawking at Neil and Neil didn’t even seem to notice. Rolling his eyes at Charlie, Richard Cameron (Charlie’s roommate), raised his hand to answer the question Dr. Hager asked.

“That’s a demerit, Mr. Dalton,” Dr. Hager deadpanned before calling on Cameron. After everyone had turned back around to face the front of the room, Charlie sat forward in his seat, watching Todd, who was still looking at Neil. Upon dropping his pencil, Neil bent to pick it up, locking eyes with Todd on his way back to sitting normally. A smirk played on Charlie’s face when Todd’s face flushed as he turned back toward the front. And Charlie couldn’t help but notice that Neil’s cheeks had also turned slightly cherry-colored as his eyes darted back to his notes. Charlie sat smugly back into his chair and began to hatch a scheme in his head. If he could just get them to admit their feelings for each other, the world would be a better place.

A few weeks prior to the day, Charlie had caught Neil drawing a heart around Todd’s name in the margins of a trig textbook. A few days before that, Todd had read an original poem out loud in their English class that was so clearly about Neil it was painful (“Richest coffee eyes / That paint the stage wonderful”).

Charlie didn’t dare bring up the subject with any of his other friends, but once alone with Neil after Chemistry, he began to work his magic.

“What’s bugging you?” he asked Neil, nudging him slightly as they walked down the hallway.

“What?” Neil returned, confused.

“You dropped your pencil during chem. I’ve never seen you do that. So that either means you were distracted by something, or you were falling asleep, which means you haven’t been sleeping well because you’re stressed out. Which is it?” Charlie prodded, looking at his friend as they continued down the hall, “Come onnnnn, Perry,” he goaded, elbowing Neil, who sighed in exasperation.

“It’s nothing, Charlie,” Neil groaned, adjusting his books in his arms and casting a nervous look at Charlie.

“Lie to anyone else, Neil. Anyone else but me. It’s just embarrassing at this point,” Charlie smirked, “And offensive.”

“It’s just… the play. It’s hard to memorize without help,” Neil sighed before turning to Charlie, “You could help? Do you want to help me, Charlie?” Neil said excitedly. Bingo, Charlie thought.

“I’d really love to, Neil, but I’ve got some Latin stuff with Meeks for the next few days,” Neil sighed, “I do, however, know someone who can help you,” Charlie finished, pleased with himself.

“Who is it?” Neil cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t know if you know him, but I’ll just tell him to meet you somewhere tomorrow? What time?”

“How do I know this guy isn’t crazy?”

“Again, I’m hurt. You don’t trust me to put you into good hands?” Or Todd’s hands, Charlie thought, laughing to himself.

“Of course I trust you, Charlie, it’s just… I don’t know, I’m stressed out, and my father is all over me, I just need some help. If you know someone who can help, I’m more than willing to accept. I don’t mean anything bad by my reactions, I promise.”

“I know you, don’t, Neil,” Charlie clapped Neil on the back, “At the dock, tomorrow at 4. He’ll be there,” he looked at Neil, “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise,” Charlie smiled as they made their way onto the landing of the boys’ floor.

After parting ways with his friend, Charlie bursted the door to his own room open, startling Cameron, who was sitting at his desk studying.

“Jesus, Dalton, you scared me half to death,” Cameron clutched his chest.

“Sorry, darlin’,” Charlie smirked, jumping into bed (with his shoes still on). He turned onto his back and put his hands behind his head, crossing his outstretched legs.

“Can you look at this trig, see if it makes sense?” Cameron asked, holding his textbook up to Charlie.

“At any other time, any other day, and in any other circumstance, I totally would, but I have some things to plan. Sorry, Cameron,” Charlie shrugged, closing his eyes.

“Come on, Charlie. I rarely ask you for help, and the one time I do, you won’t do it?” Cameron groaned. He opened one eye at the redhead across the room.

“Trust me when I tell you, the thing I’m planning is a lot more important than trig,” Charlie shot Cameron a knowing look, then closed his eye again, beginning to visualize and scheme as his roommate huffed a sigh and turned back around to his desk.

The following day brought giddiness for Charlie; he’d gotten Neil committed to going down to the docks, now he just needed to get Todd alone. The only thing Charlie was still figuring out was how. Todd was the biggest introvert Charlie knew.

Charlie’s proclivity for picking up on the ins and outs of his best friend had led to having more insight into Todd as well. Todd Anderson was new to Welton this past fall. And he was Neil’s roommate, so by association Todd had slowly, but surely (and slightly excruciatingly) joined Neil and Charlie’s friend group. He mostly listened and watched, but always sat near (although not too near) Neil when they were hanging out.

Since they were kids, Neil had always been personable; every new thing he learned about a person, would be spun in a positive way, even if the trait was inherently “bad.” He and Charlie would spend hours talking about people, but not in the “let’s gossip” kind of way– they both found a lot of intrigue in the general population. Even as children they were constantly surveying their peers in a way normal children wouldn’t. When Neil had met Todd, it was no different; he would go on about his sandy-haired roommate for ten minutes straight without taking a breath. Why Todd had transferred schools, where his family is from, what kinds of activities he liked. Charlie found the answers to these questions interesting, but perhaps nothing was more intriguing to him than the fact that Todd had willingly shared all this information with Neil. From what Charlie had experienced, Todd was not a talker, and would rather sit in a painful silence for hours on end than open up to the friend group or start a conversation… but he was doing so with Neil. Granted, Neil asked a lot of questions, but Todd seemed comfortable enough around him to share. That was the first thing Charlie noticed between the two of them, and the catalyst that had sparked Charlie’s master plan of getting them together.

After breakfast, which entailed a small conversation about Playboy models, gross scrambled eggs, and of course, a silent Todd, Charlie hung back to catch the boy before he slipped away to the dorms before class.

“Hey, Anderson!” Charlie called, jogging after him. Todd looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

“H-hey Charlie, what’s up?”

“Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”

“Um, s-sure?”

“I’m meant to help out one of my friends with his poem later, but I have Latin tutoring with Meeks, and I figured since you’re so good at it, you could meet with my friend to help him out?”

“I… I don’t know, Charlie,” Todd knitted his eyebrows at the idea of meeting and talking to who he thought was a perfect stranger.

“It’d really mean a lot, Todd,” Charlie pulled his most innocent face and looked at the boy in front of him. Todd was quiet still, “Listen, if you really don’t want to, it’s no sweat. I just figured I’d ask you since you’re so good at writing,” Charlie smiled small, not wanting to push Todd that far.

“I… um, no I-I”ll do it. Where?”

“Ah, Todd you’re a lifesaver! It’s 4p.m. at the dock. You’re sure you want to?”

“Yeah, just… tell your friend I’ll be there,”

“I will, thank you!” Charlie called, backing away from Todd and turning away to head to class. I won’t be telling anyone a thing, Charlie grinned to himself, feeling pleased.

When the clock read 3:56, Neil began to get nervous. No one had shown up. Was Charlie pulling his leg? I’ll give them five more minutes, Neil thought, sitting criss cross on the dock and twiddling his shoelace between his fingers. His “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” script sat on his lap, frayed edges and all.

4:04, Neil sighed, looking at his watch. Just as he was calling it curtains for Charlie’s friend, Todd, flush-faced and sweaty, was making his way over to him. He was looking down at his shoes, careful not to stumble,

“H-hi, sorry I’m late, I got stuck in the dining hall behind–” he looked up to see a confused Neil. Neil’s disorientation spread to Todd’s features, “Neil?” he whipped his head around both ways to make sure someone else wasn’t coming.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Neil stood up from the dock, dusting off his pants and clutching his script apprehensively.

“I… um, I’m supposed to meet… Charlie’s friend… he needs help with–” Todd trailed off, looking at Neil quizzically– “Wait, w-what are you doing here?”

“I’m… supposed to meet Charlie’s friend… he’s supposed to help me rehearse lines…?” Neil’s voice upticked at the end of the sentence, confusion prevalent between the two of them.

“Wait, you’re supposed to meet Charlie’s friend, a-and I’m supposed to m-meet Charlie’s friend, too?” Todd shook his head, unbelieving. Neil’s face changed on a dime, a green light going off over his head.

He smiled slightly and huffed a laugh, “I think we’ve been made, Todd,”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I think we’re meeting… exactly who we’re supposed to be meeting,” Neil blushed, looking at Todd, whose cheeks were rosy from rushing over to the dock (and probably at the situation, too).

“We’re… you’re the friend that needs help with poetry?”

“Todd, I think Charlie meant to get us here alone…” Neil looked to Todd, fidgeting even more with his script.

“W-well why would h-he do that…?” Todd chewed his bottom lip. Neil shut his eyes, almost as if the next thing out of his mouth would cause endless pain. He breathed an unsure sigh,

“Because,” he swallowed thickly, looking at Todd, “Charlie knows I have the biggest crush on you, and this was his way of making me make a move,” Neil’s cheeks were a deep crimson.

“You have a-a crush o-on me?” Todd gestured to himself, bewildered. Neil grimaced and nodded, squeezing the script tighter than before, averting his eyes, “Oh…” Todd’s eyes widened slightly as he looked around them once again, “I… are you sure?” Neil sighed again and sat back down on the dock.

“Yep,” he looked at his hands, the script clutched tightly between them, “I’m sure,” he sounded tired all of sudden. Todd stayed frozen for a few seconds before he trudged over to Neil’s slumped body and sat down carefully beside him.

“I guess Charlie’s g-good at this thing, then,” he laughed incredibly lightly.

“What do you mean, why?” Neil cast a glance up at Todd before looking away again.

“I don’t know… b-because I like you, too,” Todd mumbled.

“What?” Neil looked at him again, not daring to turn away this time.

“I like you… t-too,” Todd’s volume stayed the same. Neil raised his eyebrows, his eyes searching Todd’s.

“Really? This isn’t some prank that Charlie is pulling? You’re being serious?” Neil interrogated, his hands still wrapped around his script. Todd just nodded, earning a huge grin from Neil. Silence fell over the pair and their newly learned information, but when Todd spoke, his conviction surprised even himself.

“So can I help you read lines?” Neil’s smile was vibrant.

“I think I’d love nothing more.”

Charlie watched from his dorm window, smiling as the two boys sat down to read lines. He climbed down off of the windowsill and dusted his hands off, another victory in the books.

#charlie dalton #anderperry #todd anderson #neil perry #angelina writes #dead poets society

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lunebinnie · 5 years

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(1/14)I am so sorry for taking so long! (I also had to spend a lot of time studying this week bc I had my first exam for my Anatomy Lab on Wednesday... And then we had our first exam for *Lecture* Thursday (which also was the day I had a bunch of powerpoints due for my very intimidating adviser...) and then I had to substitute teach all day Friday (and then I meant to respond sooner but I got so busy 😭) so yeah I completely understand about school getting in the way no worries abt it!)

And also sleeping in on a day off when you’ve been busy studying lately is completely valid hon 👌 I hope that your midterms go well and that you’re able to stay healthy and take care of yourself in the midst of preparing! (not that you wouldn’t, I just have a bad habit of neglecting things like healthy sleeping and eating habits when I get caught up studying, so hopefully you’re not like me in that way) And yeah me too! I mean on the one hand I understand *why* they have that limit

3)If u could just send as many as u want there would be so much more spam and ppl would definitely abuse that. But also?? Um? I have a chronic condition called ‘Can'tShuttheFuckUp-itis’? 🤷 This policy is so discriminatory towards people like me who suffer from this crippling condition! I feel oppressed honestly 🙄 tumblr rlly has something against ppl just trying to get to know each other huh? Lol, but at least now we know why it eats them I’ll be sure to try to prevent that in the future

4)And oh my gosh that’s so cool! I’m super jealous!! 😮 lol. I wish they hosted kpop nights at my local bar! 😭😭 But no, I’m here at my little state college in a little 2 mi2 town just under pop 5500 (and idek if that’s before or after counting college students) in the middle of the 'farm zone’ of my state. All we get is country night @Riley’s 😩 RIP. But ya I wish I had more ppl around me who were into kpop! So far I’ve only met 3 ppl who listen to it. One was that roommate I told you about

5)One is just a casual listener who isn’t really into 3rd gen groups and mostly just listens to Girl’s Generation but that’s valid, and one isn’t even rlly a fan of any groups in particular, she just puts the kpop station on when she studies bc she says she needs music but if it’s in English she gets distracted, lol And omg that is insane! $500?? And 5 copies of the same album? 😲 (Says the girl who’s been a Monbebe for a hot 2 months and has already bought three (3??) Monsta X T-shirts… 😂

6)in my defense tho one of them was only $10 bc it was Black Friday? And u can’t blame me, Hot Topic is my krypotonite lmao) but yeah I already feel guilty about spending 30+ dollars on one copy of an album (thx international shipping) That’s so wild. And yeah I don’t get why ppl feel the need go out of their way just to insult other ppl’s music taste. I’m also pretty self conscious abt sharing my music taste and obviously the way everyone around me talks abt kpop has made me even moreso now 🙃

7) I haven’t gotten into too many groups yet bc I’m trying to go slowly and focus on getting into one group at a time but I do have a long list of groups I plan on getting into eventually! NU'EST is one that I’ve heard some of their songs on my Spotify based on my listening history and they’re on the list haha 😂 And omg I feel really similarly about Got7! I tried to get into them after I got into Monsta X and right before I got into Astro and although I did really like some of their songs

8)I haven’t really been able to get into their music as much as MX and Astro’s yet. I do think they seem like a really fun group in terms of personality though. As for the comeback I know right?? I mean I know a lot of ppl were freaking out abt the comeback being a 'sexy’ and how it wasn’t gonna be the same cute Astro we all love anymore. But they filled the MV with flowers and glitter and still managed to make it sexy as fuck! This album has a very different vibe but it still felt like them

9) They managed to pull off a more mature and sexy concept while still staying true to themselves and I’m so here for it! I don’t know if I could really pick a favorite era because I love them all! I mean Spring Up was an excellent era and every era since then has been great. They really don’t know how to have any bad concepts or make any bad songs huh? Lol. Since I’m still pretty new I really love the title tracks since I’ve heard them the most. (I have listened to their full discography

10)But I haven’t listened to their Bsides enough to pick out my favorites from those) I also really love Again though! The first time I saw the dance practice I was super into it and then I looked up the lyrics and was like 'this is supposed to be sad/regretful song it has no reason to be this much of a BOP?!’ 😂 I have such a hard time picking favorites though. Since All Light is new though I actually have listened to it enough times to pick some 'non-title song favorites’ from there haha

11) Other than All Night (which is great, obvi) I also really like Starry Sky, Moonwalk and Role Play 😂 and Bloom is so pretty oh my god! 😭😭 the album is great and has no bad songs but those are the ones I particularly like. I feel u about the dances honestly. I think that’s actually what drew me to kpop initially. I mean I like listening to the songs ofc but it wasn’t until after I actually watched an MV/saw the choreography that I actually was like… Oh shit I’m gonna have to be a fan now

12) It was the visual aspect that really made me want to be a kpop fan bc I haven’t really seen that level of performance with any western music. Which isn’t to say I think all western music is bad but I think it’s really impressive to watch kpop groups singing and also doing really impressive choreography and performing at the same time. Plus that’s the part I can show my family and say 'even if you don’t like the music because of the language barrier you have to admit they’re talented dancers’

13)And yes! With Astro especially I think the dance practices rlly succinctly capture the reason why I love them so much. They are *super* talented but they also have such great chemistry and u can rlly tell that they just love each other and have so much fun together! I love a family of six hardworking dorks! 🤧💗 lol. And yeah it’s too bad that neither of are able to see them this cb ☹️ (I also did the 'hypothetically…’ research but it wouldn’t have worked out 😒) I hope you’re right though!

14)Hopefully the success of this comeback is the catalyst to Astro getting more of the attention they deserve and there will be many more opportunities to see them in the future! (Although it is too bad we won’t be able to see live performances from this cb, since it’s so pretty 😭 tho with their track record I’m sure future cb’s will be just as good lol) But what about you? Do you have any favorite songs from this cb in particular? Talk again soon! (I’ll try 2 b better @ responding 😭) -AHA

FUCKKK okay so after like a million years of midterms + 2 days straight of sleeping ya girl is BACK to answer these asks after getting through the hurdle of copying and pasting and italicizing 14 asks onto one response on my phone. Did I perhaps fail at least 3 of my midterms? Quite probably. Do I have the energy to care atm? No. Did I need to get away from everything and fly to Boston to visit my friend for reading week? Yes.

How did all your exams go? That sounds crazy though! I hope you got through everything ok!

Tbh I have the same unhealthy habits too, I essentially became nocturnal and lived on like one meal a day + snacks and coffee 😭 fr, I would be writing my midterm from 11:30-1:30, go home to eat, sleep from 4-7pm, then wake up to study all night for the next one, and repeat,,,,, I’m like an actual mess tbh

Honestly as much as I’ve enjoyed the Aroha secret admirer thing (it was sooo nice getting to meet new people) rn I’m just so glad that post-reveal we don’t have to deal with tumblr ask limits and writing entire essay responses all in one go.

Honestly 3 shirts isn’t even THAT bad especially if they weren’t all like ordered from overseas so they wouldn’t have been that expensive. When I went to the Myeongdong underground shopping centre I went craaaazy with Kpop merch despite stanning (at that point, pretty much only) BTS for a whole 3 weeks, so I ended up coming back with 2 albums, a bunch of stickers, a photocard pack (also bonus: got an Astro one too) and like a BUNCH of bt21 stuff. Speaking of, my All Light album finally came in!! I ended up getting a Moonbin, MJ, Jinjin, and Sanha photocard plus the a Rocky lyric booklet and ik I basically got THE best set for someone who loves all of them w my whole heart 😩✊ but I’m still sad I didn’t get any Eunwoo cards since he was my first Astro bias 😭 it’s soooooo pretty I love it sm and like lowkey I’ll probably end up buying more of their albums anyway oopsss

Speaking of Monsta X btw, I heard their new song and I thought it was really good! What did you think of it?

Regarding favourite songs, I swear my moods change so much, so it’s pretty common for me to not love a song at first and sort of rediscover it months later, and tbh that’s kind of what happened with Innocent Love, Baby, and Again. In this album though, I’d say my favourite Bsides are probably be Bloom, 1 in a Million, and Heart Brew Love.

And I toootally agree with the performance aspect of kpop being the thing to attract me it, even before I got really into it I’d sometime like to watch dance practices (and lowkey even learned a bunch of choreos a with my friend last term just bc we had access to a frequently empty dance studio). It’s just super impressive to see people singing and dancing at the same time mostly live, and for the same reasons I’m also super into musicals as well, which isn’t so say I think like lip syncing or just dancing/singing is bad, it’s just refreshing to see it done all at once, you know?

Also side story it turns out that I actually DO know another Astro fan irl!! Her older sister (who I’m closer to bc we’re closer in age) is the one who bought the million got7 albums. Even though she’s been a fan of Astro since before debut, her sister doesn’t even know she listens to kpop since she was afraid of getting roasted at first, but now she’s in too deep to say anything. I’d mentioned liking Astro to her before, but she didn’t say anything bc she didn’t want to expose herself in front of her sister but on Friday I saw her while her sister was out and she was like “oh btw here’s a secret I went to the Toronto fanmeet last year but my sister doesn’t know” I was SHOOK but tbh I’m just super glad now to have someone to talk about it and go to concerts with (I’m banking on the fact that they’re coming back)

Anyway, THANK YOU SO MUCH for waiting 2747287482 million years for my response, and it was so great to finally (officially) meet you Kjersten!

@kaptain-k-pop

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golddaggers · 7 years

Text

chemistry // part three

pairings: teacher!dylan o'brien x student!reader.

warnings: cursing.

a/n: took me long enough, but it’s out! I really hope you’re enjoying this series as much as I’m enjoying writing it.

word count: 3,6k+

part one - part two

Keeping a secret was never really a big deal to me until I was forced to hold a big, hot potato inside my mouth. Well, not really, it was a pretty crappy metaphor, but the thing was: not telling anyone I had recently made out with my hot chemistry teacher was driving me nuts. I wanted to scream at every popular cheerleader who had picked on me: suck it up, bitches, I scored your dream guy.

Oh, no, that’s lame. I honestly think somebody should charge me in for being a horrible teenager. Fuck, it was all so overwhelming! Plus, keeping it from Karen was suffocating me. We had known each other for over seven years now and in that entire time we told each other everything. Literally everything. From our first period to the excruciatingly graphic details of our virginity loss, which, may I tell you, was definitely not pretty. I needed to vent with her, on the other hand, I could also hear Mr. O'Brien’s words echoing in my mind; I couldn’t put his job on the line because some urge to gossip.

Huffing, I started drawing random figures on the corner of a paper I had over my desk. My English teacher, Mrs. Donaldson, who happened to be an adorable old lady and actually one of my favourite teachers, handed to my class a sheet filled with tips on how to write a good narrative essay. She wanted us to, at least, start a brief story as well; it would be our second exam in the semester. Therefore, everyone was busy trying to come up with ideas, while I, uh, was stuck. To say the minimum.

Normally, I’d be all over the place to do it, because I actually loved writing, but today I simply couldn’t bring myself to do it. My head was too lost in thoughts about last night’s events to focus enough on the blue lines in front of me. Shit, never in my life I wanted to yell so much.

“Miss Smith?” The old woman whispered, her tiny hand touching my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Donaldson.” I shot her an embarrassed smile, biting my bottom lip afterwards. “Everything is fine, I guess, I’m just worried with some personal stuff. I’m going to start this soon, I promise.”

“You poor thing…” She shook her hand, squeezing my upper arm tenderly. “Do you want to wash your face, maybe? Or drink some water? You look a bit sick.”

“It isn’t necessary, I’m-”

“Sh, kid, just go. It’s only ten minutes for this class to be over.” Her eyes rolled as she waved her at me, dismissing my plea. Man, people really should stop interrupting me. It very, no, deeply, annoying. “Just make sure you hand me this done on the deadline, okay?”

Uh, considering I desperately wanted to go out for a little bit of fresh air, she didn’t need to push me so much to leave, so I agreed without thinking twice, slipping out of the classroom quickly and heading to the ladies restroom nearby. As soon as I got inside the quiet place, I understood why Mrs. Donaldson had said I looked sick: my skin was few times lighter, giving me a sour-milk-like appearance.

Inhaling deeply, I turned on the faucet, allowing the water to run through my fingers for a few seconds before actually washing my face with the cool liquid. Whilst doing so, I began to think about my latter actions and I still had no idea why this was bothering me so much. I mean, it was only one kiss. One good kiss. Hell, Dylan was a great kisser. Just amazing, those lips… Okay, focus. The point is: what would happen now? Just back on our regular student/teacher relationship or something else? Fuck, fuck, fuck! I had never felt more lost.

Switching the water off, I dried my hands and face with some towel tissues, firmly deciding I should talk to Mr. O'Brien soon. Things needed to cleared up for me, otherwise a spot at the local hospital’s psychiatric ward would be waiting for me.

“I just don’t get it, Brittany… Why doesn’t he notice me?” Briannah’s voice echoed on the corridor outside, which made me suddenly panic and hide within one of the small cubicles, going up on the toilet so that they wouldn’t see my feet. “I am attractive and successful. A real trophy.”

“Of course you are, Bri, Mr. O'Brien is stupid.” Her nonchalant tone almost made me throw up. These girls were unbelievable.”That’s the only explanation to why he hasn’t noticed you.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not. He’s smitten with that Smith weirdo. I caught him staring at her, like, a thousand times now.” My breath hitched on my throat, eyes growing wide to her last sentence. “Urgh, men are so strange.”

“Agreed.”

“But I never give up on a challenge, I’m still going to make him mine. Whatever it takes. Now come, we don’t want to be late for his class, do we?”

A few high pitched laughs could be heard fading away, a door slamming shut soon afterwards. I slided down to the floor, not sure to what to do with this information; not the part where Mr. O'Brien checked on me, after last night, I was sure I did catch his attention, or he wouldn’t have kissed me, but the ‘whatever it takes’? It’s so creepy and sounds so much like a soap opera thing. Jesus.

Nonetheless, although I wanted to, I couldn’t stay hidden in a restroom any longer. I had classes to attend. His in particular.

“Okay, Y/N, suck it up.” I murmured, getting back on my feet and unwrinkling my white shirt. “You need to be a woman about this, alright? Alright.”

I walked outside, chin up in the air, and went to the English classroom to pick up my stuff, pacing myself for the next forty-five minutes staring at Dylan’s cute tush, cute lips, cute everything. By this point, my hormones were laughing at my face, giving a rat’s ass about what was right. As if they were alive to care.

Oh yes, I’m definitely getting a spot at the psychiatric ward.

“So, can anyone tell me, based on the current graphic, if this reaction is endothermic or exothermic?” Dylan pointed out, his, now that I have come to notice, long, slim index finger pressing the board where a perfect graphic was drawn. “No need to be shy class.”

“Come on, Smith.” Karen whispered, pinching my thigh, erupting a low ‘outch’ to crawl out of my lips, which, in a matter of seconds, earned to myself the teacher’s attention. “Y/N here knows the answer.”

“Oh, she does?”

Chewing my bottom lip, I finally allowed myself to look at him, finding his eyes pierced on me, the irises of a liquid honey. A small smirk pulled the corners of his mouth up, so adorably cute, I couldn’t help but mirror his expression, nearly forgetting we were at a class crowded with people.

“So…?”

“It’s endothermic, Mr. O'Brien.”

“Can you say why?”

“Uh, looking at the graphic, you can see that the enthalpy grows as the reaction progresses, which means it’s absorbing energy while reacting. That classifies it as endothermic.”

“Perfect, that’s exactly it.” A delighted hum fell from his lips whilst he turned his back and wrote the classification above the draw. “As miss Smith correctly stated, an endothermic reaction absorbs energy, in most cases heat, from the environment. It’s not spontaneous, like an exothermic reaction, it has to be provoked…”

So he proceeded on his explanation, eyes sparkling with excitement. It was incredibly adorable, to me at least, the way he loved his profession so much. But I haven’t been the best judge lately. Not when he was involved, anyway. I guess our kiss worked like a catalyst that triggered the crush I had long forgotten back on. Tell me about an exothermic reaction.

Fine, no more chemistry puns. No one needs those, plus I’m the only who finds them amusing; wait, maybe if I told them to Dylan he would think it’s a funny trait of my personality. Or probably that he made the terrible mistake of being with a crazy girl.

My own thoughts made me chuckle while I copied the informations O'Brien had already put on the blackboard. He wasn’t exactly a writing person, but each topic the man considered important for our exam, and personal learning as well, was perfectly listed there. This organisation was perfect for later studies.

“Psht.” My best friend muttered, her shoulder lightly brushing mine. “What is up with you?”

“This is the fourth time today I tell you there’s nothing wrong. I also texted you three times saying I was good. Why do you keep insisting?”

“First things first, you never told how your ‘class’ went.” She said, rolling her eyes and glancing over her shoulder to see if no one was paying attention to our small conversation. “Second, Mr. McHottie-”

“Don’t call him that!”

“Mr. McHottie hasn’t taken his eyes off of you today. What is up with that?”

“Shut up!” I exclaimed, lowly, my eyes narrowed whilst I shook my head. The brown haired girl solely sighed, her green eyes seeming bored. “Look, I told you nothing happened. Plus, if people hear you talking that-”

“I don’t fucking care, Y/N!”

“Is there are problem, miss Smith and miss Williams?” Dylan queried, ceasing his extensive monologue due to mine and Karen’s angry whispers.

“No, Mr. O'Brien.” Karen denied, straightening herself back on her place. “We’re fine, aren’t we, Y/N?”

In an attempt of keeping myself together, so I wouldn’t fight with her in front of everyone for a silly reason, I took a deep breath and nodded. I knew Karen was upset with the way I was acting in the past two days; to be honest, I didn’t fully comprehended what the hell was going on with me, nonetheless, she needn’t to act like a child about it.

However, before I had even time to, I don’t know, write her a note or something, saying I would explain things later, the bell rang, announcing the end of the class. She gazed over her shoulder at the door one last time, her eyes soaked in upsetness.

Fuck.

I shoved my books back into my blue backpack with an angry huff, placing the right handle on my shoulder.

“Miss Smith? Could you wait a little bit? I want to speak with you.” Spinning on my heel to face him, my eyebrows knitted together, I shot him a confused glance, not knowing why he was asking me to “talk” when a couple of geek girls were still inside the room. “It’s about your grade.”

“Oh, oh, yeah. I totally meant to talk to you about it too.”

O'Brien placed his warm palm against my back, leading me, who was formerly standing next to the exit, towards his desk. Oh God. I knew it was innocent, believe me, I did, but I just couldn’t help the rough wave of electrical shocks that hit me when his hand tenderly pressed my upper back.

He, then, near his stuff, began fumbling through his papers, also leaning in to search on his drawers too; however, if I’m allowed to make a side note, I was damn sure I had the very exam he mentioned carefully stored home inside a file on the back of my school compartment, which means this was some lame excuse for us to talk in private. Smooth, Dylan, just smooth.

I put my hands on my waist, allowing a soft sigh to crawl out my lips, gazing back to find that Angela, a sweet brown eyed girl with glasses and a high ponytail, was closing her notebook and placing it within her greyish backpack. The other one, her friend, Marcia, was positioned by the exit, waiting to go.

“Okay, all set. Bye, Mr. O'Brien. Smith.” She mumbled awkwardly, trudging to the threshold where the blonde teenager awaited for her.

“Bye.” We both replied, waving goodbye.

The second the tall wooden door was slammed shut, Dylan ceased looking for my “wrong” test. Instead, he walked up to me, opening a space between me and his table. For a moment, I got lost on his whiskey coloured eyes, this time filled with doubt. I knew it must have been just as conflictuous to him as it was for me.

“We should-”

“Yes, but not in here.” He said, shaking his head. “It isn’t safe.”

“Then where?”

“Uh, I’d offer my place.” Under those words, I felt myself grow numb and my heart skipped a beat. “Yet, I don’t think it is suitable. Just… Just meet me at this bar later, at eight.”

“I can’t go out tonight, my mum wouldn’t let me.” O'Brien frowned, his forehead wrinkled in exasperation. “Oh what the hell, I’ll figure out some excuse. Just write the address and I’ll be there.”

“Are you okay with this?”

“Of course I am, we need to talk about what happened and if can’t be here, it has to be somewhere else. I don’t really care.”

“Okay, I’ll just write in here and, uh, I’ll be waiting for you there.”

“Fine.”

Convincing my mother to let me go out at night was the hardest thing I have done in my life, however, I managed to succeed at it, promising I would behave and not get into trouble. The rule she established was that I should be home before midnight; what wouldn’t exactly be a problem, because I didn’t think the talk was going to last long. He was probably going to say that it had been a mistake, that we shouldn’t do it again, then I’d be back home. Yes.

Nevertheless, the fact I was most likely getting rejected by O'Brien, despite knowing the undeniable spark we had between us, didn’t stop me from picking up the nicest dress I had in my closet. Well, it was nothing fancy, just a tight black dress with a considerable cleavage on the front that would get his eyes glued to the exposed area of my chest. A girl can try to be sexy, right?

A laugh fell from my mouth as I finished applying the last layer of red lipstick. Giving myself a small wink, I went downstairs, heading out where an Uber was already waiting for me. I quickly got inside, finding a sympathetic looking old man behind the steering wheel.

“Where are you going, miss?”

“It’s a small place downtown called ‘Rojo’ or something like that.”

“Oh.” His forehead wrinkled whilst he scratched his beard. “I know where it is. It’s a bar… Are you sure you’re not too young to be going there?”

“Uh, I think it’s none of your business.” Shaking my head, I fastened my seatbelt. “Now could you please drop me off there?”

“As you wish, young lady.”

The next twenty minutes were painfully slow and quiet; the driver was probably pissed at the way I responded him, not that I cared anyway. If there was something I hated, it was people invading my personal space. Like, he had no business on what I would do at that bar. Ok, I perhaps shouldn’t have come off so strong, the poor man was just being nice to me…

Oh bite me, as if I hadn’t enough to worry about already.

Trying to keep those thoughts away, I shook my head, inhaling a good deep breath and watching the trees pass by me in a blur. Once more, possibly the nth time today, my mind flew back to last night’s kiss. To be honest, I was still in awe, the silky touch of his lips pressed onto mine, his grip on my waist, his hands bringing us closer… Shit, that brown haired, mole speckled man was purely intoxicating. Like a very addictive drug flooding my blood, providing me with a overdose of serotonin.

And I should definitely dim down on the cheesy stuff, because, man, it feels weird. I was getting too excited. What the hell was going on with me?

“Girl, we’ve arrived your destination.” The Uber drive muttered, glancing over his shoulder. “That will cost $20.”

“Thank you.” I mumbled, handing him a twenty dollar bill and quickly walking out of his car, watching the poorly lit place I was currently about to enter whilst hearing the tires screeching as the driver sped out.

“Okay, now I totally see what his point was.”, I thought, gripping my small purse strongly and heading towards the small bar. At a first glance, you would think this was a haunted house due to the entrance aspects, however, once inside, the pub was actually pretty cosy. A light jazz music was playing in the background, small booths perfectly arranged… I could risk myself saying it was a tad romantic. Plus, it was the kind of place no one I knew would visit, which was probably the reason why Dylan chose it.

Speaking of the devil, he was here already, sitting carelessly at a table in the back. Hell, he was looking good. His chestnut brown hair was tousled, beard carefully trimmed, framing those pink lips of his in a way they shouldn’t, a thin grey shirt tight around his muscles… Fuck, I wanted nothing more than to jump onto him and scatter kisses on all of him. Savouring that minted flavour once more.

I clamped my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to contain the sudden rush of adrenaline that ran across my form. He didn’t have to know how his mere presence affected me so much. God he made me feel like a fifteen year old finding out about boys.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” O'Brien muttered, as soon as he acknowledged my presence. He, then, sipped at a white liquid from a glass that was on his table, eyes still gazing down to the cup. “I’m surprised you did.”

“We needed to talk.” I shrugged, taking a seat in front of him. “Plus I never back away from the things I say.”

“Yes, I wouldn’t expect less from you.” His honey irises eventually risen to face me, incredibly hardened this time. “You’re such a mature person, Y/N, I guess it was why I forgotten you are my student last night.”

“Mr.-”

“No formalities, please.” He rolled his eyes, excusing me with a wave. “We can excuse them for a moment, just let me talk, alright?”

“Fine, Dylan, go ahead.”

“First I want to apologise for what I did, I shouldn’t have put you in this position.”

“Excuse me? Are you honestly apologising for kissing me?” This time it was my turn to act annoyed, my hand unconsciously landing over his while I huffed. “I really, really, enjoyed it. Also, it isn’t like you have forced me into it anyway. I kissed you just as much as you kissed me.”

“Yes, but I am the adult. I should know better than letting my impulses get the best of me. I feel like I-I corrupted you or something.”

“Of course you didn’t, that’s silly. I’m seventeen, not five years old.” A small giggle fell from my mouth, my thumb still circling the back of his hand. “But, if you feel uncomfortable, then we can pretend it never happened.”

“This isn’t about being comfortable, it’s about doing what’s right. If we were in a different situation, I’d choose to be with you anytime.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because it could get you in trouble. Both of us.”

“I don’t care. Not when doing what’s wrong feels so right to me.” Our gazes linked, so filled with emotions I felt overwhelmed for a second. His fingers intertwined with mine, causing my heart to beat irregularly; the electrical waves were back too. “Doesn’t it feel good? Please tell me I’m not wrong about this.”

“It feels amazing, Y/N.” Dylan traced a wet line on his bottom lip, squeezing out palms together. “Can I… Just one last time…?”

“Kiss me? Yes, you can. We don’t have think about the consequences now, do we?”

“No, we don’t.”

Without breaking the skin contact, I hushedly moved to sit beside him, crashing my lips onto his the second my butt was pressed against the cushioned booth. He didn’t hesitate either, hands going down to grasp my hips, digits massaging the region at leisure whilst the man hungrily searched for my mouth, tongue slipping in, fighting with mine. Man, he was a good kisser. I had shudders slapping my form whenever he locked my lower lip between his.

I laced my arms around his neck, pulling our bodies closer and deepening the fond action, wishing I could make this moment last forever. However, a minute or two later, the air ran dry, making us pull away, noses still brushing one another, eyes still connected, foreheads still glued. Everything fit perfectly, like it was meant to be, no matter what the external rules were.

“Oh fuck…” The whiskey coloured eye man whispered, breathlessly. “I fantasized about this a hundred times. I knew it was wrong but I wanted it anyway.”

“You said if we were in a different position, you’d choose me. So… Let’s pretend you’re not Mr. O'Brien and I’m not Miss Smith. We’re Dylan and Y/N, two people who happen to fancy each other. ” Leaning forward I, stole a peck from his perfectly shaped lips. A chuckle escaped afterwards. “What do you say?”

“Yes. I think I can do that. We just have to be Mr. O'Brien and Miss Smith at school.” Dylan dragged his mouth across my face, scattering feather light kisses on my cheek, erupting goosebumps all over my body. “Now what do you say we kiss one more time? For luck.”

“Uh-huh. Anything you want.”

While I surrendered to his gentle touch, I couldn’t help but think that he was everything I never realised I wanted before. And now that I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t let him slip away from my fingertips.

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annashipper · 7 years

Text

Sojourner Anon Submission

I’m in a similar situation to the Confused Anon - I’ve known about Benedict Cumberbatch since 2007 (Atonement), and had seen him in a bunch of stuff over the years prior to Sherlock, but wasn’t impressed enough with his acting to take an interest in him until Doctor Strange and TLD (it helped that he was smoking hot in both of these - scruff really does wonders for his face). Naturally my first course of action was to go on a bender through Tumblr for a couple of months, which is how I wound up on skeptic blogs. I’d seen pictures of Benedict with his wife in the past (mostly from the 2015 awards season) and I was aware that there existed a faction of fans that didn’t like her - mostly because of something that had happened to a friend of mine about two years ago.

I don’t wanna go into too many details, since I don’t want to expose her to more hate, so I’ll keep it simple: she’s a huge Benedict fan, not a UK resident but got to stay there for a while back in 2015, during which time she saw Sophie and the baby at some kind of event she (my friend, that is) attended - something that got her torn apart by the skeptics. Now, I’ve known this woman for ages. I’ll grant you that she’s a nanny, but most of her friends are, at best, very casual fans. She’s not a BNF, nor an attention-seeker or a consummate liar, so I find it truly hard to believe she’d make up something like that. There was literally nothing for her to be gained by saying she’d seen Benedict’s wife and baby (I doubt she’s on his PR’s payroll, considering she’s not someone followed by a ton of fans or anything remotely close).

I’ve seen the uncensored pap pics where you can see the face of the child being carried. His resemblance to Benedict is almost uncanny, which is saying something because Benedict doesn’t exactly have a very common face. If they really did hire someone, they did one hell of a job finding a kid who looked like the biological son of both parents.

Furthermore, I agree with what Confused Anon had to say. It’s one thing to get your friends and family to cover for you, but this is a man who’s constantly surrounded by virtual strangers that don’t owe him shit. There’s nothing stopping them from going to the press, and yet not even CDAN will publish a blind contending Benedict’s children are a lie (when it had no problems publishing such things about other celebs).

And what happens down the line, if he did create a fake family? They’re too young right now, but in a few years Benedict’s gonna be expected to discuss funny anecdotes about his children on talk shows - like that cute gifset you recently shared, with all the Marvel actors saying how their kids were embarrassed by them. You can bet your ass someone’s gonna ask Benedict what his sons think about him being Doctor Strange, and people will wonder why he’s not bringing them on set like other Marvel actors… and later, he’ll have to start regularly showing up in public with them, or gossip rags are gonna wonder aloud how come he never brings his children to any public events, like others do with theirs.

I don’t pretend to know what spurred this relationship, although I do have a theory that he panicked as he was nearing 40 with no kids and just jumped at the first opportunity to be a father, maybe hoping he’d learn to love Sophie along the way. Sadly, I’ve met couples like that IRL… but I digress. Whatever the real reason, it can’t have involved a fake pregnancy, or he would’ve said “not mine” a long time ago and jumped ship. At this point, that kind of admission would destroy his public image and career for a very long time, possibly even for good, so unless Benedict is EXTREMELY stupid - and he doesn’t come off that way to me - there’d have to be at least one child.

And yes, I’ve seen the photo collages of her pregnancy. I too have been pregnant and given birth, but unlike the rest of your mom anons, I don’t think that makes me an authority on either pregnancies or babies. No self-respecting medical professional would opine on a stranger’s pregnancy by just looking at photos, and neither should laymen who only have anecdotal evidence at their disposal. In other words, sorry, but drawing outlines on pictures isn’t how gynecologists determine pregnancy.

I’ve seen how you react to people who disagree with you, so I just wanted to say upfront that I’m not really expecting a serious answer beyond a sarcastic gif or sending me to those archives that don’t actually answer anything. My infatuation with Benedict has already begun to subside (I mean, it’s been almost six months, there’s only so long I can fangirl). I had five minutes to burn on my daily commute and that Confused Anon was something of a catalyst, so I dropped you a line. Have a great day, Anna, I hope both you and Benedict find happiness in your lives. (Please accept my apologies if this comes out too long, incoherent or misspelled; English isn’t my first or even second language).

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hi Sojourner Anon!

First off, since you’ve seen how I react to people who disagree with me, you probably already know enough to expect a serious answer from me when you’re being as cordial as you have been. I reserve sarcasm and snark for the obviously baity Anons who’re just looking for trouble.

Anyway, as your submission has indeed come out a bit long, I’m going to try to keep this as short as possible and simply address the points you’re making in the order that you made them:

Regarding your friend and her being torn apart by Skeptics, I don’t expect you to be aware of this since you’ve only just recently discovered the Skeptical community for yourself, but we have a long standing rule about sightings. They have to make sense (to at least be taken seriously) and they have to come with photographic evidence attached (to be believed and included in confirmed sightings). As I don’t know what your friend saw and where, it is impossible for me to argue whether what she saw was legitimate or not. The one sighting of Weirdo and Pilo at an event I can remember, is the one where Weirdo supposedly took (a very young) Pilo (at the time) to an Ian Mc Kellen reading, and that’s simply because there was a lot of back and forth about it being legit. Skeptics who are much more social media savvy than I am and have far higher powers of Google Fu than I do were able to find multiple pictures from the inside of the venue and ... guess what: No matter how many brunette women the Nans pointed to as being Weirdo, it turned out she wasn’t in the audience. If this is not the sighting you’re alluding to, I would be more than happy to discuss this with you privately in case you’re inclined to provide me with more details.

On the matter of your friend being torn apart by Skeptics, let me also add that I personally have never ventured outside of Tumblr for any reason whatsoever and have made it a point to try to deter my fellow Skeptics from doing so as well. For the record, all real Skeptics know how to stay in our lane. The ones who don’t are not considered real Skeptics (and yes, there are a number of trolls who have infiltrated the community since the beginning of this showmance and are posing as Skeptics just to make us look bad).

I’ve seen the unblurred pics of Rent-A-Pilo’s face too. At first I had the same reaction as you did. I thought Rent-A-Pilo looked remarkably similar to Ben and went on record saying so (on a post which I haven’t deleted, because I don’t delete posts). Here is the LINK. Notice how even immediately after seeing Rent-A-Pilo’s face for the first time and posting under shock I still didn’t believe Weirdo had gestated a real human baby? I still don’t.

Seeing how the pillows are only ever mentioned / trotted out when Daddy needs to sell a new project or Mommy throws a tantrum to get a new pap walk, I don’t believe they’re surrogate children either. I just think they’re imaginary. It goes hand in hand with the fact that Ben knows next to nothing about babies. 2 hour skyping sessions with a 5 month old, filthy props from a movie set being used as teethers by a 10 month old and babies eating sliced apples are only some of the things Ben doesn’t seem to understand are not the norm for children of Pilo’s age. I won’t even mention the lack of bathtime.

I don’t think Ben is extremely stupid. I think Ben is extremely desperate not to come off as a man who faked a relationship / engagement / wedding / pregnancy / fatherhood for an Oscar he didn’t even come close to winning because he simply chose an unstable famewhore to play the part of his red carpet girlfriend.

I have to say I’m disappointed you don’t see fit to counter any of the arguments we pose via the bump comparisons you mentioned seeing as you’ve obviously studied them. I have been posting / reblogging / arguing using these bump comparisons as evidence that Weirdo faked the first pregnancy for the better part of the past two years and not a single Anon has ever offered a convincing counter-argument regarding how ridiculous Weirdo looked with a bump that kept inflating / deflating / changing shapes / inflating again / folding over / disappearing altogether / inflating again / staying the same size during the last trimester of that weird pregnancy. I would really like to hear your thoughts on that if you feel inclined to have a mature back and forth about it. Be forewarned: arguments such as “I can’t accept anyone would be crazy enough to fake a pregnancy like that while being papped left and right” and anecdotal evidence such as “my sister’s friend’s mother’s cousin’s (twice removed) never developed breasts / never got swollen ankles / belly kept deflating / bellybutton kept popping out and in and out again, etc” won’t be taken seriously. For obvious reasons.

I hope the above answers some of your questions about my take on this showmance and I apologise for getting a bit snarky regarding the pregnancy that never was on my last paragraph, but faking that pregnancy is a very sensitive subject for me personally.

I have a couple of very close friends who have been trying to conceive and I know how taxing it’s been on them. Let’s just say a famewhore faking a pregnancy just to establish herself in the public eye rubs me the wrong way.

It’s why I keep coming back to the first pregnancy (which we got to document through numerous pap walks unlike the second one), it’s why I’ll keep calling Weirdo ... weirdo and it’s why I intend on remaining an active Skeptic for the foreseeable future.

Apologies to everyone reading this blog as I think my answer to Sojourner Anon may actually be longer than her submission was. What can I say? I’m a rambler...

#sojourner anon #submission

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moodboardinthecloud · 3 years

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How to Tell a Story to Save the World 2

Toby Litt

13th May 2021

This time, I’m looking at two hugely influential screenwriting manuals – Syd Field’s Screenplay and Christopher Vogler’s The Writer’s Journey.

Through the gap between them, we see the idea of heroism emerge and start to dominate the very idea of ‘a good story’.

Like all film producers say, ‘The audience needs to knows who to root for.’

(If you haven’t read part 1 of the book, which explains what I’m up to, it’s here.)

SCREENPLAY:

THE FOUNDATIONS OF SCREENWRITING

SYD FIELD

1979

We’re going back now – back to before the resurrection of the Hero. I hate to say it, but it is a more innocent age. It was an age when very few people knew very much about the business of film-making. And it was certainly an age when almost no-one would have expected to take life-advice from the person who wrote the lines for the actors on the TV.

It’s easy to see why Syd Field’s Screenplay was so influential – perhaps “formative” would be more accurate – in its time, and just as easy to see why it has been so completely superseded.

The screenwriting manuals that have followed seem to say a lot more, and they say it more get-atably, often more schematically. (Field is, in retrospect, almost comically light on diagrams, and his diagrams are comically simple.)

John Yorke’s Into the Woods contains the gist of Screenplay, but it doesn’t capture the attitude. Field’s approach to writing a film is relaxed, unneurotic; you’re not going to come away from Screenplay angsting over having missed this mythological beat or not having inserted this emotional hook in the viewer. Field’s view of writing is one of sincere application to the basic craft, rather than wily manipulation of the available means.

I like Field. Not as much as I like Robert McKee – Field’s a much more limited teacher than McKee – but I like him. He’s an affable, slightly grouchy zen uncle-type – great uncle, now.

Field was a pioneer, an explorer of the territory, and shouldn’t be sneered at by people who arrived in the landscape when it had paths and public conveniences. Even so, as a founding father, he had his limits. His eyesight was clear, but he was only interested in certain outstanding features. It’s not that he got lost, or needed to be rescued, more that the map he brought back was fairly sketchy.

Syd Field Mini-biog

Syd Field was born in 1935, in Hollywood, California. He took a B.A. in English Literature at University of California, Berkeley, in 1960. It was at the suggestion of the director Jean Renoir (Grand Illusion, Le Regle du jour), that he entered film school, also at the University of California. Here, he hung out with Jim Morrison and Ray Manzarek of The Doors. His early work in the film industry was for David Wolper Productions, the company later responsible for Roots, The Thorn Birds and Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971). Field became, in his own words, a jack-of-all trades. He published Screenplay in 1979 – introducing the ideas of “three act structure” and “plot points”.

If you were cynical, you might say that Field profited a great deal from of saying that stories have a beginning, a middle and an end. It shouldn’t be ignored, though, that lots of wannabe screenwriters had and still have no idea what a screenplay looks like, what it should and shouldn’t do. Field gave away that mystery of the craft. He let people see what the producers were arguing over when they were deciding whether or not to greenlight the project, what the actors had in their hands when they were learning their lines, and what the cinematographer and the gaffer were consulting while they were figuring out where to place the key light.

Syd Field’s book covers basics, and does them very well. You just always feel – at every juncture – that there is more to be said.

Some of Field’s virtues are negative. He’s laid back rather than pushy; he’s the Dude, not a Little Lebowski Urban Achiever. Screenplay is pragmatic where Save the Cat! is dogmatic.

Screenplay observes:

When you are writing your screenplay, the plot points become signposts, holding the story together and moving it forward.[1]

Save the Cat! gives you a direct order:

Page 12 – Catalyst. Do it.[2]

And:

The B story begins on page 30.[3]

It’s noticeable that Field isn’t ideologically pushy, either. Screenplay wasn’t written in Mao’s China, but it’s no a hymn to unfettered individualism – as are The Writer’s Journey and Save the Cat!

Field gives practical advice about the writing life:

If you’re a housewife and have a family, you may want to write when everyone’s gone for the day, either midmorning or midafternoon.[4]

And collaboration:

If you’re married and want to collaborate with your spouse, other factors are involved. When things get difficult, for example, you can’t simply walk away from the collaboration. It’s part of the marriage. If the marriage is in trouble, your collaboration will only magnify what’s wrong with it.[5]

He’s wry:

Many of my married women students tell me their husbands threaten to leave them unless they stop writing; their children turn into “animals”.[6]

But, as far as pushing the viewer towards individualism, Field isn’t a culprit. Field doesn’t deal in Heroes and Heroines. In the whole book, the word “Hero” isn’t used. Instead, Field writes about “main characters”.

What does your main character want? What is his or her need?[7]

He writes declaratively:

Without conflict there is no drama. Without need, there is no character. Without character, there is no action. “Action is character.” F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote in The Last Tycoon. What a person does is what he is, not what he says.[8]

However, Screenplay is still mostly about writing films with a single strong main character. Field doesn’t really deal with ensemble pictures – or he dodges dealing with them. Even so, his examples are better than those of Vogler and Snyder:

What about Nashville? Is that an exception? Let’s take a look. First, who’s the main character of the film? Lily Tomlin? Ronee Blakley? Ned Beatty? Keith Carradine?… Joan Tewkesbury… the screenwriter… realised the main character of the film – that is, who the movie is about – is the city of Nashville. It is the main character.[9]

Then he says:

There are several main characters in the film and they all move the action forward.[10]

He says the same of Network (1976).

The “network” is the main character. It feeds everything, like a system; the people are parts of the whole, replaceable parts, at that. Network continues on, indestructible; people come and go. Just like life.[11]

Although he doesn’t require Heroes, Field does want main characters who make stuff happen. The world, at least in his cinematic version of it, moves forwards because of individual dilemmas and decisions:

Many new or inexperienced writers have things happening to their characters, and they are always reacting to their situation, rather than acting in terms of dramatic need. The essence of character is action; your character must act, not react.[12]

Screenplay doesn’t seem anything like a get rich quick manual. The sale is important, but it contains nothing about pitching. Field’s engagement with money is more from the moviegoer’s perspective:

After the lights fade, and the movie begins, how long does it take you to make a decision, either consciously or unconsciously, about whether the movie was worth the price of admission?[13]

Field includes some pages from one of his own screenplays, for an unmade film “The Run”. It is sadly expository and uninspiring. I expect it encouraged some writers by being obviously out-doable.

Nearing the end of the book, I felt that Field had held it together. Although he hadn’t written a manual for writing pluralistic stories, he hadn’t ruled them out. He was handing out the tools like a benign foreman. It was all going so well. If not anticapitalist then not rabidly pro-.

And then, at the very end of the book, quite bizarrely, Field quotes a poster produced by the McDonald’s Corporation entitled “Press On”:

Nothing in the world can take the place

Of persistence.

Talent will not, nothing is more common

Thank unsuccessful men with talent.

Genius will not; unrewarded genius

Is almost a proverb.

Education will not;

The world is full of educated derelicts.

Persistence and determination alone

Are omnipotence.[14]

WTF?

In one leap, we go from humble craftsperson to divine being – simply by not losing heart between the seventh and eighth drafts?

Even in his wildest moments of mythologizing, Vogler doesn’t suggest the screenwriter will become a god.

But, as we’ll see in the next chapter, Vogler has a pretty high idea of himself.

THE WRITER’S JOURNEY:

MYTHIC STRUCTURE FOR STORYTELLERS AND SCREENWRITERS

CHRISTOPHER VOGLER

1992

but also:

A PRACTICAL GUIDE TO JOSEPH CAMPBELL’S

THE HERO WITH A THOUSAND FACES

CHRISTOPHER VOGLER

1985

Re-enter the Hero.

The theme of the hero myth is universal, occurring in every culture, in every time…[15]

In 1985, Vogler resurrected Campbell’s The Hero With a Thousand Faces. He did this in a famous seven-page memo.

Vogler tells the story in a pdf he shared on his website:

It was written in the mid-1980s when I was working as a story consultant for Walt Disney Pictures, but I had discovered the work of mythologist Joseph Campbell a few years earlier while studying cinema at the University of Southern California. I was sure I saw Campbell’s ideas being put to work in the first of the Star Wars movies and wrote a term paper for a class in which I attempted to identify the mythic patterns that made that film such a huge success. The research and writing for that paper inflamed my imagination and later, when I started working as a story analyst at Fox and other Hollywood studios, I showed the paper to a few colleagues, writers and executives to stimulate some discussion of Campbell’s ideas which I found to be of unlimited value for creating mass entertainment. I was certainly making profitable use of them, applying them to every script and novel I considered in my job.

The language here is that of the mid-eighties – “unlimited value” and “profitable”.

In 1992, Vogler expanded his memo into what is probably the single most influential screenwriting manual, The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Storytellers and Screenwriters. Since then it has gone through three distinct editions, and has just been published in a fourth – the 25th Anniversary Edition. Each new iteration looked more authoritative, and chi-chi, and more like a guide to tarot reading, than its predecessor. Each has also made greater claims for itself as a work not just for writers but for everyone seeking meaning in their life.

The 2nd edition contains a Preface that walks back a number of claims made by the 1st edition. Here you can find Vogler’s answers to some of the world’s questions (and mine). He directly takes on the charges of ‘Cultural Imperialism’ and ‘Gender Problems’ (Sexism). But he does so in a spirit of deflect or assimilate.

However, it was the 1st edition, and the 7-page memo that birthed it, that were the most influential versions of the Hero’s Journey – and they are unrepentant in their championing of individualism. (Rugged American optional.)

Here is where Syd Field’s “main character” is replaced by “the Hero” capital H. Vogler doesn’t write anything about ensemble pictures. The films Field chose – Nashville, Network – to talk about collective stories don’t appear in Vogler’s world-view. The implication must be that these kind of movies are outliers – a minority interest. The closest he gets to dealing with non-Heroic movies is to talk about “Group-Oriented” Heroes.

They are part of a society at the beginning of the story, and their journey takes them to an unknown land far from home. When we first meet them, they are part of a clan, tribe, village, town, or family. Their story is one of separation from that group (Act One); lone adventure in the wilderness away from the group (Act Two); and usually, eventual reintegration with the group (Act Three).[16]

The clear implication here is this – no separation, no story; no aloneness, no adventure.

Vogler is consistently helpful, and useful, but he is always pointing you down the same narrow track: the Hero’s Journey.[17]

Christopher Vogler mini-biog

A self-described ‘farm boy from Missouri,’ Vogler was born in 1949. He studied filmmaking at the University of Southern California School of Cinema-Television, the alma mater of George Lucas. It was here he encountered Campbell’s Hero with a Thousand Faces. ‘There it was – the answer to what I was looking for: the unwritten rules, the super-outline that all stories appear to be connected by.’ Vogler turned this into his famous memo. Since then, he has worked for Disney studios, Fox 2000 pictures, and Warner Bros. He has a moustache and looks like a weather-beaten walrus.

As with most gurus, the biggest trouble is with the followers, not the guru themselves. Many movies since Vogler’s seven-page memo have been a reduction of what was already a reduction.

Though Vogler is a sincere evangelist for Campbell’s ideas, he seems more widely open. He wants to ask all the right questions:

Where do stories come from? How do they work? What do they tell us about ourselves? What do they mean? Why do we need them? How can we use them to improve the world?[18]

He wants to help the wannabe writer – more than that, he wants to give them the means to self-help.

The Hero’s Journey, I discovered, is more than just a description of the hidden patterns of mythology. It is a useful guide to life, especially the writer’s life.[19]

Vogler goes quite a long way with this. He doesn’t always resist the urge to present The Hero’s Journey as a panacea, a cure-all. He also has an imperial urge to assimilation. This is illustrated by an anecdote he tells in the Preface to the 2nd edition.

At the time Vogler’s memo was becoming a force in Hollywood, “two articles appeared in the Los Angeles Herald-Observer”. In these, an unnamed critic claimed the memo:

had deeply influenced and corrupted Hollywood storytellers. According to him, lazy, illiterate studio executives, eager to find a quick-bucks formula, had seized upon the “Practical Guide” as a cure-all, and were busily stuffing it down the throats of writers…[20]

Vogler’s initial reaction was to be “flattered” but “devastated”.

I had thought about challenging the critic to a duel (laptops at twenty paces) but now reconsidered. With a slight change in attitude I could turn his hostility to my benefit. I contacted the critic and invited him to talk over our differences…[21]

Taking this into Campbell’s Heroic language:

Instead of fighting my Threshold Guardian, I had absorbed him into my adventure.[22]

Vogler never claims to take Campbell on his own terms. The Writer’s Journey is a work of applied mythology; one in which mythological/psychological insights are put to practical use (to help make movie scripts better so they please more people so they earn more money). For there to be a wider moral behind this would be, for Vogler, ludicrous. But the moral is there anyway:

All must be assimilated.

There is one story, and the one story is the story of one man.

The clan, tribe, village, town, or family is in need of the cure[23] which the Hero goes off to seek. The tribe cannot cure itself, with its own means; the tribe cannot send off a scouting party, or travel en masse (as nomads would) in order to be healed. It is only the lone Hero who can succeed – according to Campbell, according to Vogler, according to Hollywood.

When this is put together with the basic Hollywood screenwriting advice to improve the scene by reinforcing the conflict[24], it is easy to see how the depiction of any group will tend to show them as dysfunctional. If there are more than three characters on-screen, two of them must disagree – often violently. If there six or seven, they must start bickering and fighting while time runs down. If there are a hundred or two hundred, they are likely to be a panorama of sleepwalking drones, an applauding crowd, an army of obedient slaves or a rampaging mob. The Hero, meanwhile, detaches from them to sort things out. If he didn’t detach, things wouldn’t be sorted out.

It’s not difficult to see how ideological this is. In a profitably individualistic age, we are given stories of individuals. Instead of “The meek shall inherit the earth” or “Workers of the World Unite” we are told “Just Do It” and “Because You’re Worth It”.

For Vogler, the Hero’s Journey is secular. Where it inevitably tends is towards self-realisation not self-annihilation, not ‘at-one-ment’. There is no mention of the void. The cure brought back to the ailing community is not a spiritual boon, but the solution to a social problem (even if that problem is so total as to become existential).

At the moment, with the Coronavirus, COVID-19, the world – collectively – is seeking a cure. There are Heroic individuals everywhere. They are not going off on individual journeys. Instead, they are working together to save as many lives as possible, to preserve the tribe, to manifest from their collective knowledge (rather than just head off and steal) the cure.

Next month, we’ll be looking at how two more screenwriting manuals have changed our ideas of what it is to be an individual, to be a hero – and how that involves doing anything but really saving the world.

Footnotes

[1] Screenplay, p 122. Which doesn’t work at all, as a metaphor, because signposts hold nothing together, except themselves, and move nothing forward – only point the direction something else should move or be moved. Screenplay is a slackly written book.

[2] Save the Cat!, p 77.

[3] Save the Cat!, p 79.

[4] Screenplay, p 169.

[5] Screenplay, p 238.

[6] Screenplay, p 170.

[7] Screenplay, p 11.

[8] Screenplay, p 25.

[9] Screenplay, p 122-3.

[10] Screenplay, p 123.

[11] Screenplay, p 124.

[12] Screenplay, p 161.

[13] Screenplay, p 71.

[14] Screenplay, p 256.

[15] “A Practical Guide to Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces” by Christopher Vogler, pdf download, p 3.

[16] The Writer’s Journey, p 46.

[17] ‘Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid.’ Raymond Chandler.

[18] The Writer’s Journey, p 3.

[19] The Writer’s Journey, p 3.

[20] The Writer’s Guide, p 4.

[21] The Writer’s Guide, p 4.

[22] The Writer’s Guide, p 5.

[23] Later on, we’re going to be looking closely at World War Z, as both book and movie. One of the reasons I chose it is because the cure in it is literal. At the climax of the film, the Hero (Gerry Lane) Brad Pitt returns with the cure. It’s a lump-in-throat moment.

[24] “Just as in every story a protagonist battles an antagonist in pursuit of a goal, so scenes replicate that structure… For drama to occur, a protagonist must be confronted with an equal and opposite desire. The goals of protagonist and antagonist in every scene are in direct conflict…” Into the Woods, p 91.

Toby Litt has published novels, short story collections and comics. His most recent book is Patience, a novel. He runs the Creative Writing MFA at Birkbeck College, and blogs at www.tobylitt.com. He is a member of English Pen. When he is not writing, he likes sitting doing nothing.

https://writersrebel.com/how-to-tell-a-story-to-save-the-world-2/

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