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michaels-blackhat · 3 years

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thoughts on evil Forrest 😈

We are going to start out by apologizing. This is very very late. I’m sure when you sent this ask, you meant it to be in the same joking tone that I approach all of my other propaganda posts. Sadly, this is actually going to be a deep dive into a few Evil Forrest related things, including the moment I feel they changed directions, the perfect wasted build-up, and the implications of the change/how it then negatively impacted the story. As I’m sure you already know, by being on my blog at all, I don’t think the story was good to begin with, so we are going to focus on the weird hoops they made themselves jump through to make that story still work. Additionally, I am only going to mention once, right now, how much of a waste it was to not have Forrest ‘fall for his mark’ and complete one of my absolute favorite tropes. Honestly, I think “because I want it” is a completely valid reason to like Evil Forrest. But, the question was “Thoughts on Evil Forrest” and these thoughts have been developing for over a year and a half. So, I apologize in advance.

The majority of this is under a cut, with highlights in the abstract. If no one wants to read this, I understand completely. Go ahead, skip it.

Note: it pains me greatly to not actually have full sources for this essay. Just know that in my heart I am using proper APA citations, I just absolutely do not feel like digging through tweets to find sources to properly cite.

Abstract:

Previous research indicates that Roswell New Mexico has a history of repeating excuses to explain mid-season changes to plots. This essay explores how those excuses are not only loads of crap, but how they hinder the show’s ability to tell a coherent story, misuse the multiple-plot structure to enhance the themes being explored, and lead to decisions that mean the show continuously goes over budget. This also means that characters are not used to their full potential and has led to what some fans consider to be “out of character” behaviors. While these behaviors are not universally agreed on, evidence can be shown that these behaviors directly contradict emotionally important character arc/plot points in the show.

The author of this paper acknowledges that the show took some strides to mend this problem. However, once again no consensus could be found on whether Forrest was a low-level member of Deep Sky and thus just allowed to fuck off on a bus, or his job was recruitment because he did a piss poor job of making Alex not join.

The concept of Evil Forrest has been with the fandom as early as New York Comic Con (NYCC) in 2019, when it was revealed that Alex had a new “blue-haired love interest”. Speculation abounded within the fandom, with some people, including the author, going “yeah, he’s evil” while others rejoiced in the concept of Alex having a loving partner. Speculation increased as fans discussed Tyler Blackburn’s seeming disinterest in his new love interest, prompting some once again to scream “EVIL” at the top of their lungs to anyone who would listen. Very little was revealed, beyond the fact that the new character would show up somewhere around episode 3 of the second season.

Episode 2.04 aired with some commenting on how he barely interacted with Alex- prompting more evil speculation- and others excited to see the characters interact more. The character appears again in 2.06, where he invites Alex to dubious spoken word poetry (which Alex attends); 2.08, where they have a paintball date and go to The Wild Pony; 2.10, where the two are seen writing together briefly at the beginning of the episode; and 2.13, where Alex performs his song at open mic night, tells Forrest his relationship with the person in the song was long over, and they kiss. Forrest was not revealed to be evil during season 2.

Amidst the season airing, Word of God via Twitter post announced that yes, Forrest had originally been planned as a villain, though not the main villain, but it was changed as filming progressed.

The Word of God Twitter post revealed that Forrest had originally been planned as a villain, but they decided that they could not make their “blue-haired gay man” a villain. This mirrors a similar situation and excuse used the previous season, where the character of Jenna Cameron was originally planned to work with Jesse Manes against the aliens, before it was changed because they just “loved Riley [the actress] too much”. Both of these examples occurred while already filming and reflect on a larger problem with the show. Though not the topic of this essay, it is important to note that both characters are white, both in the show and by virtue of being played by white actors. The fact that they couldn’t be villains for one reason or another is not a courtesy extended to the male villains who are all the most visibly brown, and thus ‘other’, members of the cast.

This also highlights the fact that, via Twitter, it has been revealed two other times that occurrences that were reported in season 1 also occurred in season 2. During the airing of episode 1.02, it was revealed that the single best build-up of tension in the show- when Alex walks to the Airstream not saying a word to Michael after a dramatic declaration- happened because one actor was sick at the time and they had to go back and film the kisses later. At the point of airing for episode 2.08, it was revealed that one of the actors were sick and unable to film a kissing scene. Allegedly, this caused the writers to retool the entire scene and deviate from the plan to make that subplot about Coming Out. The execution of this subplot will be explored later in this essay.

The last occurrence revealed via Twitter also revealed larger issues within the show: lack of planning and poor budgeting. During the airing of season 1, Tyler Blackburn was needed for an extra episode beyond his contracted 10. A full explanation was never given, but speculation about poor planning and to fill in because Heather Hemmens had to miss one of her 10 episodes due to scheduling conflicts for another project. During the airing of season 2, yet another tweet came out saying they made a mistake and Tyler would once again be in an additional episode. No explanations beyond “a mistake” were given, though once again speculation occurred. It is the opinion of the author that this was due to changing plot points over halfway through writing, while episodes were already in production. It has been speculated by some that these changes occurred during the writing of 2.08, which was being finished/pre-production was occurring roughly around the time of NYCC 2019.

Previous Literature:

A brief look at different theories of plots and subplots

Many people have written on the subject of plotting, for novels and screen alike. The author is more familiar with film writing than tv, but a lot of the concepts carry over. Largely, the B- and C- (and D- and E-… etc) plots should reinforce the theme of the A-plot. This can be through the use of a negative example, where the antithesis of the theme is explored to reinforce the theme presented by the A plot, or through other examples of the theme, generally on a small scale.

A movie example of this would be Hidden Figures (2016), where the A-plot explores how race and gender impact the main character (Katherine Johnson) in her new job. The B-plots explore the other characters navigating the same concepts in different settings and ways- learning a new skill as to not become obsolete and breaking boundaries there (Dorothy Vaugn) and being the first black woman to complete a specific degree program and the fight it took to get there (Mary Jackson). A TV example that utilizes this concept of plot and theme is the 911 shows. Each of the rescues in a given episode will directly relate to the overall theme of the episode and the overall plot for the focus character. This example is extremely blunt. It does not use any tools to hide the connection, to the point you can often guess the outcome for that A-plot fairly quickly.

This is not the only way to explore themes within visual media. Moonlight (2016) looks at three timestamps in the life of Chiron. Each timestamp has a plot even if they feel more like individual scenes or moments rather than plots as some are more used to in films. Each time stamp deals with rejection, isolation, connection, and acceptance in different ways. So while there is no clear A-, B-, or C-Plot, each time stamp works as their own A-Plot to explore the themes in a variety of ways, particularly by starting out in a place of rejection and moving to acceptance or a place of connection to isolation.

Please note that there are many ways to write multiple plots, there are just two examples.

While there are flaws within season 1 of RNM, overall the themes stayed consistent throughout the season, mainly the theme of alienation. The theme threads through the Alien’s isolation/alienation from humanity which is particularly seen through Michael’s unwillingness to participate and Isobel’s over participation. There is Rosa’s isolation from others, how her friendship with “Isobel” ended up compounding her existing alienation from her support system due to her mental illness and coping mechanisms. We see how Max and Liz couldn’t make connections. This theme presented itself over and over in season 1. While this essay is not an exploration of the breakdown of themes in season 2, it should be noted that there were some threads that followed throughout the season. The theme of mothers/motherhood was woven throughout season 2, with some elements more effective than others. Please contact the author for additional thoughts on Helena Ortecho and revenge plots.

One of the largest problems within season 2 was the sheer number of plots jammed into the season. These plot threads often ended up hindering the effectiveness of the themes and made the coherence of the season suffer. Additionally, a lot of them were convoluted and difficult to follow.

Thesis:

Essentially, season 2 was a mess. To look at it holistically is almost an exercise in futility. Either you grow angry about the dropped plots and premises, you hand wave them off, or you fill them in for yourself. Instead, this essay proposes to look at individual elements to explain why Forrest should have stayed evil.

We first meet Forrest in 2.04 when he is introduced on the Long Family Farm, which we later learn was the location where our past alien protagonists had their final standoff. He’s introduced. He’s largely just there. The audience learns he has more of a history with Michael. In 2.06, we meet him again with his dog Buffy (note: poor Buffy has not been seen again and we miss a chunky queen). There’s mild flirting, Alex is invited to an open mic night, which he attends. For the purpose of this essay, the author’s thoughts on the poetry will not be expressed. Readers can take a guess.

It is after this point that the author speculates the Decision was made. This choice to make Forrest not evil- paired with the aforementioned ‘can’t kiss, someone’s sick’- impacted the plot. We have Alex have a scene with his father- which the author believes could have been pushed to a different episode- and then have Alex go on a date and then not kiss Forrest at the end of the night. Here, the audience sees Forrest hit Alex in the leg, allegedly not knowing he had lost his leg despite ‘looking him up’, which parallels the shot to the leg that happens to Charlie. Besides wasting this ABSOLUTELY TEXTBOOK SET UP WTF, it also takes Alex away from the main plot and then forces a new plot for him. Up to this point, Alex’s plot was discovering more about the crash and his family’s involvement. Turning Alex’s date from a setup for evil Forrest to a Coming Out story adds yet another plot thread to a packed season. It is also the author’s thought that this is where the convoluted kidnapping plot comes in. With Forrest already in 2.10 for a moment, a plot where Alex is evil has Forrest attack him for Deep Sky rather than Jesse abduct him for a piece of alien glass Alex was going to give him anyway and then for Flint to abduct Alex from Jesse. It’s messy. In a bad way. Evil Forrest would have been a cleaner set up: no taking back a piece of alien glass Alex gave to Michael in a touching moment. No double abduction. Instead, there is only Forrest, who Alex trusts, breaking that trust to take him as leverage over Michael.

Implications:

Now, Alex has two plots (Tripp & Coming Out). The Coming Out plot is largely ineffective, as they are only relevant to scenes with Forrest and have the undercurrent of there only being a certain acceptable way to be out. This could have been used for Alex to discover his comfort levels, mirroring Isobel’s self discovery, but there was not enough screen time for that. Additionally, Isobel’s coming out story was about her allowing herself the freedom to explore. Alex’s story was about the freedom to… act like this dude wanted him to. Alex’s internalized homophobia played out often in the series but it was also informed by the violence he experienced at Jesse’s hands and the literal hate crime he and his high school boyfriend experienced. With that in mind, the “kissing to piss off bigots” line comes off poorly. This is a character who experienced what a pissed off bigot could do- reluctance to kiss in public is not the same as not being out. There is more to be said on this topic, but as it is not actually the focus of the essay, it will be put on hold. To surmise: Alex’s coming out is attempted to be framed as being himself, but it is actually the conformity to someone else’s ideals. It does not work as an antithetical to Isobel’s story, as the framing indicates that the conformity/right was to be out contradicts Isobel’s theme.

Further Research:

MAKE FORREST EVIL YOU COWARDS

Author Acknowledgements:

The author of this paper acknowledges that the show took some strides to mend this problem. However, once again no consensus could be found on whether Forrest was a low-level member of Deep Sky and thus just allowed to fuck off on a bus, or his job was recruitement because he did a piss poor job of making Alex not join.

#anti forrest long #i guess #evil forrest propaganda #I asked and no one said don't post it so...#here it is #I started writing this roughly 7 months ago

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aroutd2511 · 2 years

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My Learnings From OUTD Research

Over the past few months, this course has provided me with an in-depth look at the work and process of research and research in this field of study. I have always thought of research as a scientific process done through experiments by scientists. However, I was wrong. I learned that research can come in many forms and through many methods. One of the best things that I learned was that research can be presented in various ways. This was a significant discovery for me during the week we attended the innovation week talks. I realized that research doesn’t have to be presented through numbers or papers; it can be addressed through poetry, pictures and stories.

Three things that I now know about outdoor recreation research:

1. Ethics: From this course, I developed a deeper understanding of the many different aspects that help create an ethical research project. Before, I had a basic understanding ( kids under 18 need parental permission, and participants need to be aware of what is happening to them). I understood why ethics were important in studies so that they ensure that the research being done puts people first and upholds respect for human dignity.

2. Open vs. Closed questions: This is something that I feel comfortable with and comfortable using. I understand that both types of questions have a time and place where they can be useful, and I have understood the situations they best fit into during a survey. I know that open questions allow the individual taking the survey to elaborate on their answer, whereas closed questions generally answer yes or no.

3. Qualitative vs. Quantitative Data: I learned about these two types in a high school science class, and I was already familiar with the terms. However, this provided a good refresher and allowed me to better understand how these two types of data may be used in research and what goes into obtaining each set of data.

Three things that I am still confused by:

1. Levels of theory: I understand that each level deals with a social theory, but I don’t fully understand the difference between Macrosocial, Mesocial, and Microsocial. I also don’t understand why there is a distinction between the three categories and if there are different ethical concerns with each, and that's why they are divided.

2. Coding: I find using a computer to process all your information and create a code that matches all your data seems like a lot of unnecessary work. I could understand it if you had numbers and needed to find a link between the numbers, but I find that organizing your findings into categories makes it easier to understand. I also don’t know why you would want to code your work.

3. Grounded Theory: The way that our notes and textbook describe this confuses me. You’re finding categories within your data, finding relationships between the categories, and then finding a core category. I think what is getting me is the core category. Is it a similarity between all other categories, or is it the category you will focus your research on?

Three things I know about me as an OUTD Rec researcher:

1. I prefer to work with Qualitative data. It makes more sense to me than quantitative data. It is easier for me to make meaning from data that are just numbers. Data expressed as words rather than numbers makes it easier for me to understand, and if I’m honest, data with numbers and equations makes no sense to me. I don’t care enough to spend the time decoding what the numbers mean or represent (this is because me and math have never been friends).

2. When I like what I’m researching, I find that when I don’t care about the topic, I won’t put in the same amount of effort or care what the outcome is, even if it’s being graded. I know that when I like my topic, I can spend hours reading and writing about it without becoming bored or angry that I have to spend time on a project.

3. I am very organized: All my data is colour-coded and sorted into categories and sub-categories depending on which question it answers in our research. I like to have it all in one place and create a set timeline of what will happen and when that work will be done.

Three things I need to work on to become more confident in my skills:

1. Analyzing surveys: making meaning of answers is something that I struggle with. Especially when I didn't create the survey. When I don’t know what the goal of the survey is, I struggle to derive meaning from the results.

2. Developing survey questions: coming up with practical questions that will help me to answer what I am researching is something that I struggle with. When I create surveys, I find that the questions are either the same question or it is close-ended questions. I find it challenging to think of multiple questions that will give me an in-depth view of the topic being studied.

3. Creating a hypothesis: I have been creating hypotheses since grade 8 in science class. However, those were easy and were generally either I think this will happen or the opposite will happen. Developing a hypothesis on something that is not a yes or no/ this or that is something that I struggle with. Coming up with what I think will happen is not a strength of mine, and I usually make it up having no clue what I think will happen. So developing that skill is something I want to work on.

I have seen the value of this course and have learned to respect the work that researchers do. It is demanding and meticulous work, and I have a lot of respect for anyone who does this work.

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poutyhannie · 4 years

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word count: +4k

warnings: fluff, angst, smut, college!fem reader, college!felix, romantic fantasy

** **

You gaze down at the materializing letters stretching across your palm till your elbow. It was a mixture of Korean and English. The Korean characters were few and far in between but were delicate and even while the English letters were long, messy, and leaned to the right.

I’ll need to turn in Prof Behl’s assignment when I go to class and then explain why I can’t go to the museum research trip.

Did I use all my meal swipes? Chris said he wanted to workout at 3…

These notes would often appear on your right arm, sometimes remaining like a tattoo for weeks or fading before you could even read it fully. These were the thoughts of a person whose soul matched your own. He was a college student who is majoring in English with focus on things like creative writing and poetry and you’ve gathered that ‘Chris’ was his roommate.

For as flowery his major was, the boy’s thoughts were surprisingly plain and boring. However, you were thankful for it. Your friend often had dark circles under her eyes. Her connection with her soul partner was being awake at the same time and you were sure her soul’s partner lived on the other side of the world with the opposite time zone. To be honest, you gleaned almost nothing from the notes. The boy probably didn’t know that his thoughts were being recorded on your arm, which you always kept covered with a sleeve. Neither did you know what connection he had with you. Did he feel the emotions you did? Were his dreams your memories? You’ve laid to waste these meaningless thoughts to focus on your life more, not his. There was little reason to go searching him out; if you truly were tied together by souls, fate could do the heavy lifting for you two.

Leaning back at your desk, you shake out your cramping hands. The graphic design project requires that you draw out the story board by hand rather than digitally and you never wished more to curse for it. The reason was, according to your Professor, head of the project you and your classmates are fighting to be a part of use physical copies in the preliminary section. Because you had started in traditional art, relatively it was easy to get back in the swing of things. Didn’t mean that your hand didn’t hurt like a bitch, though. You had everything riding you getting to participate in this project, you’d planned everything out with your counselor and had little attractive options if you didn’t get it, so you return to your drawing.

Your roommate swings open the door, causing you to jump and tug your sleeve on quickly. She throws her bag on her bed with no regards to the loud thump it emits. Her blonde hair rests on your paper when she leans over to look at your drawing. As always, she gushes at your talents and as always, you remind her that her microbiology major is much more impressive.

The night is a lot hotter than comfortable, especially with the tight sleeve you always relegate yourself to, even while sleeping. Ever since you caught your dad reading the thoughts on your arm when you slept, you sometimes go so far as to sleep on your stomach, with your right arm tucked under you. It was uncomfortable reading his thoughts, much less having someone else read them. Yeah, they weren’t always too juicy or detailed, but it still felt wrong to share something like this with anyone else.

“Even family?” You remember your dad asking to your rage.

“Even family.” You hissed.

With a groan, you rise out of bed, your roommate looking up from her five inch thick textbook, illuminated by a soft, yellow dest lamp. Her watery eyes gaze up at you from behind her round glasses. “I’m going out. Can’t sleep.” You tell her.

The night breeze whispers through your hair as you sit on an empty bench in an empty courtyard near your dorms. It’s in time like these that you feel peace. When not a soul is around you and you can finally just sit with yourself. Slowly, you unwind the sleeve and are met with chaotic swirl of words. This happens when he dreams.

Worth, friends, others, internships, classes, empty, running, nothing, darkness.

Your heart pangs. He’s having nightmares again. Instinctively, you begin to wrap your arm up again, not wishing to invade him at his weakest point.

Though you don a mask of indifference towards the scrawl on your arm and effectively the boy around others, you can’t help but hurt for him. He seems swamped with so much to do and feels helpless. When you look down, the chilling sentence on your arm burns in your mind and heart.

I don’t think there’s anyone for me. All I see is black. Am I alone?

Two weeks later, they stay. No matter how many times you unwrap and rewrap your arm, those three sentences never leave. Others come and go, but from that night until now, they stay. And the guilt of not pursuing this boy is eating you alive.

You always assumed he had a connection that allowed him to know of your existence. When you realize that he doesn’t, your passivity almost seems like a sin. How lonely it must be to be alone in a world where everyone has someone. Since then, you’ve been paying close attention to the scrawl on your arm, careful to gather as much info on him as you can decipher. Right now though, in class, you can’t.

Your Professor is announcing the chosen students of the project and you can’t really think about him now.

“And the last student is Y/n.”

You heave out a sign of relief, making a note to thank you Professor. You’re sure she had a few good words to put in for you. “The students I just called will be working with other student in screenwriting. You guys need to pick five scripts you want to animate and the screenwriting students will choose their preferred artist.”

Walking into the classroom with another female peer by your side, you absentmindedly fidget with your sleeve. She walks boldly up to a male student, who’s dark blonde falls onto his freckled cheeks, sticking her hand out. “I’m Madeline,” you hear her say. His eyes snap up towards yours but he immediately looks back to Madeline as they exchange pleasantries.

Madeline is paired up with the freckled boy and you with a quiet, thoughtful boy named Seungmin. He tells you that he is friends with Felix, the freckled boy, so you combine tables and group up. Because this is a project done in your own time, you all choose to work together to bounce ideas off with each other though with how bubbly Madeline is, you wonder how much you guys will get done.

When the topic of soul partners comes up, you and Felix shift uncomfortably. Seungmin gets visions through the eyes of his partner and has seen her face, he tells you guys casually.

How wonderful it must be to know who your soul is tied to, you think bitterly, a twinge of jealousy coursing through you.

Madeline’s green eyes shine as she starts, “I don’t know who they are, but I see colors that has to be tied to them.” She’s a romantic, giddy with excitement at the prospect. It’s so easy to live with just seeing colors; it’s pretty and inconsequential, much a contrast to the invasive cryptics on your arm.

When all your eyes turn to Felix, he purses his lips softly, only able to look down at the table. “I actually don’t know what my connection is. Maybe its unconsciousness because I can never fall asleep at nights,” he jokes, attempting to push the attention off of that topic.

A glossy nail taps Madeline’s pink lips as her dark lashes flutter, “I don’t think so. Insomnia isn’t usually paired with unconsciousness connection.”

Feigning disinterest, Felix shrugs, focusing back to the sketches, “Maybe it has something to do with my color blindness, I’m not sure. Doesn’t really matter,” he mutters, his voice deep and throaty. Madeline gasps, lightly slapping Felix’s arm. He raises an eyebrow at her.

“Of course that has to be it!” She exclaims, “It’ll be a subcategory color connection, just like me! Maybe you’ll see colors when you see your partner or when some other unveiling instance occurs.”

She goes into depth about connections, her shoulders bouncing in excitement. Thankfully, this distracts them from asking you about your connection. As her movements and words quicken, the stale bitterness in your mouth consumes you. It’s immature, your distaste for anything about these connections. Just because you have a subjectively unfortunate connection definitely doesn’t mean you should shit on Madeline’s obvious interest in the subject. In fact, Felix and Seungmin seem to enjoy talking with her about it as she has extended knowledge about connections.

However, while Seungmin’s tone that he asks his with questions are amused, his interest piqued, Felix is leaned forward in his chair, his eyes barely concealing desperation. Your heart pangs for him; he’s probably so lost.

Seungmin and Madeline walk in front of you and Felix on the sidewalk, returning to the dorms. They’re in deep conversation about Seungmin’s connection and with Madeline’s knowledge and Seungmin’s intellect, they quickly and thankfully exclude you and Felix.

“I don’t wanna talk about connections,” you declare to him. A small smile spreads across Felix’s face and he nods knowingly. “What made you want to get into animation?” He asks, a pleasant and refreshing topic.

“I haven’t always been the best at art,” you admit with a shrug. “No way!” Felix exclaims, his eyebrows raised, “Your work is so cool, though.”

You laugh at the compliment, “Yeah, well it took me a while to get here and I didn’t want to throw away that work, so here I am. What about you? Why did you want to get into script writing?”

Felix’s eyes soften and he stares off past the line of buildings, into the horizon. “I feel like I can see different things with words. Does that make sense?” He pauses, gathering his thoughts, “They open up worlds and ideas that I can’t experience and it makes me feel closer to normal. It makes me feel alive.”

“Like, you can imagine how colors feel or look through words?”

He nods, looking back at you with a playful look, “That’s another reason why I like your work so much. The values are clear and I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything by not seeing color.”

The genuine, heartfelt comment makes your heart warm and a smile spread across your face, “Yeah, I focus a lot on just greyscale because composition is the most important aspect to my art. Stuff like color theory, while important, it basically inconsequential if you can’t even tell what’s going on in the picture.”

Felix’s voice quiets as he shoots a look up at Madeline’s back, “Yeah, I didn’t want to choose Madeline’s for that reason, but she really thought that the color use in my script would work in perfect tandem with her style and I really couldn’t tell whether she’s right or not,” he shrugs, his lips pulling into a line.

“Oh, totally,” you say quickly, not wishing to have Felix question his choice, “It makes total sense and in some instances color can tell more of a story than composition and values can. It was wise to team with her.” Maybe your intentions of reassuring Felix was too obvious because his eyes crinkle deeply when he gives you a big, knowing smile.

A week into your work and the very basic shapes for the animation is finished. Working with Seungmin is wonderful as he has a clear direction and even pictures he’s taken to show you what he envisions. Concentration pinches Felix’s eyebrows together and he and Madeline converse as you watch them from the other end of the table.

An hour or two pass and you stand up to stretch, announcing that you’re gonna take a bathroom break to which they agree is a wonderful idea. Coming out of the bathroom, you wrap up your sleeve, peeking to see what the ink says this time. The three words that you’re familiar with; that have been etched into your sink for weeks don’t make your heart stop, but the ones under it.

Am I alone? She needs to add more clear composition so I can actually tell what’s going on.

Your eyes snap up to the blond haired boy. That’s exactly what Felix told you a day ago. Its him?

To your confusion, he now stares, awestruck at Madeline. There’s a sinking in your stomach but you can’t tell why. Gasping, his eyes widen as he takes her hands. “Madeline…I think,” he stumbles over his words, clearly flabbergasted. “I-I’m seeing color now, I think.”

She squeals, squeezing his hands tightly, “When? Just now? What happened?” His dark eyes look dazes and he steps back. His eyes wander from the ground her hers and he whispers, “When I saw you.” Turning your back on them, you leave quickly, not wishing to intrude on Felix’s revelation.

You resume your seat next to Seungmin, heaving a sigh. “What’s wrong?” His lips form a slight pout and his head tilts to the side. You shake your head, waving a hand, “Felix and Madeline are soul partners. He just found out.” From your peripheral, you see Seungmin smile widely. You laugh to yourself, an embarrassed blush rising on your cheeks at your previous hasty conclusion. You really are desperate for the person who matches your soul.

“That’s great,” he taps your arm with his hand, hidden by his sweater’s sleeve, “Why do you look so bummed, though?”

You purse your lips, “It just sucks to be a late bloomer. I don’t know who my partner is,” you tell him as the bitterness fills your mouth again. Seungmin nods firmly, his fingers tapping your arm again, “At least you know that you have one, though. Felix didn’t even know whether he was alone or not.”

“Yeah,” you shrug, trying to ignore the gnawing guilt of your selfishness, “it just sucks.”

“Of course but just give it time,” Seungmin advises, patting your shoulder softly.

You and Seungmin gaze blankly at Felix and Madeline as they both gush over each other. You can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy in your chest when Felix gingerly strokes her cheek.

Clapping, Seungmin returns to the story board, pointing at a slide, “I like the idea with this one, but if you’ll look here,” he pulls out a picture he took of a deep, dark green forest that just seems to dissolve into black, “I want the composition to be more dangerous. Like, the characters are being drawn into darkness and they won’t have any way to escape.” Nodding quickly, you add rough shading and lines to your preexisting work to cater to Seungmin’s request.

“Perfect,” he beams his toothy smile at you.

By the time the project is all but done, Felix and Madeline are attached at the hip or the hand or the face. You try not to watch them, jealousy foaming in your throat. Felix’s eyelashes flutter against his freckles and his lips are glossy as Madeline gently strokes his cheek, smiling softly. Such a romantic—it would make sense that her seeing colors would be paired with his past complete colorblindness. He gushes over her work and her use of color, his voice giddy with excitement at finally seeing color, finally being normal.

While your initial bitterness at their fortune has washed away into passivity, you can’t bring yourself to look at your arm like you used to. In a way, you’re foolishly upset at you partner for not giving you anymore clues that would lead you to him. It’s foolish because he doesn’t know you can read what’s on his mind.

You pick up your artist’s hand brace from your dorm bed and begin unwrapping your arm to put it on, barely sparing the black scrawl a glance.

Its not all black anymore. I can see it. I can see her.

Dread clenches your gut as your eyes travel down to the next single word.

Madeline.

There’s a buzzing white in your head as you fumble to get your shoes on, tripping out into the hallway, breaking into a sprint towards Madeline’s dorm, on the other side of the campus. Whirling confusing overcomes your mimd and you feel like you’re suffocating, the only goal is to find an answer. You don’t know when hints of this conclusion plagued your mind. Maybe it was that day, months ago at the bathroom. Maybe it was a deeper jealousy at seeing Felix kissing Madeline. It didn’t matter anymore, you frantically knocked at her door, out of breath and gasping.

Her green eyes are wide and her pink lips are swollen, she’s almost as out of breath as you are. She makes no move to hide Felix, who’s pulling on a shirt behind her shoulder. Nervousness pangs in your throat but you shove past her and shed your arm to Felix.

“Wh-what’s this, Y/n?” He asks, eyes bouncing off your arm to your face, uncomfortable with looking at something you’ve explained to him is so precious and private to you.

“Read it,” you beg, eyes flicking from his face to Madeline’s. She furrows her shapely eyebrows, gingerly taking your cold arm into her soft hands. At Madeline’s brazenness, Felix finds it in himself to look down at your arm.

Her grip is firm but you could rip away from it at any moment.

Madeline’s eyes are wild and horror fills them as she looks up at Felix. You try desperately to explain, “I-I don’t know what this means either, but that day that you first saw color, Felix, there were your exact words to me about your project on my arm.”

He laughs to deflect how uncomfortable he feels, it comes out too harsh and grates against your neck, raising heat into your face. “Y/n I know you really wanna find your partner, but this is crazy. Don’t try to suggest stuff like this. Madeline and I are partners, everything has been perfect since that day for us.”

He looks over to Madeline for reassurance, but she doesn’t meet his eyes. A soft, vulnerable look plagues her eyes as she looks up at you. Felix stutters, confused why she wouldn’t immediately agree with him. “Lix,” she inhales deeply, “for my connection, you know how I see colors? Those are actually s-supposed to go away when I meet my partner.” You realize the vulnerable look in her eyes was actually guilt.

“What?” His voice is a breath, like he’s been struck in the chest and is left gasping for air. “I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to meet them because I don’t want to loose my color—it’d be like dying for me and I’m really happy with you. Aren’t you happy with me too?” Felix’s lips hang open and his face is frowning in confusion, “So you’ve been using me when you knew I wasn’t yours?” Madeline’s eyes fill with guilty tears and she nods. As much as you can understand why she did what she did, anger and bitterness towards her, towards loosing so much time with Felix consumes you.

“Then you never deserved him,” you hiss, possessively retracting your arm into your body, hiding the words against your bosom.

You and Felix sit wordless on a bench in a park in a part of town you were unfamiliar with.

“So it was you this entire time?”

“I’m so sorry, Felix,” your voice cracks and you bite your lip to prevent it from trembling, “I really didn’t know for sure and I doubted what I knew because you just seemed so happy with her.”

He scoffs loudly, running a hand through his silver hair, “Yeah and look what that amounted to.”

Quietly, you respond, “It amounted to us realizing. That means something.”

Felix exhales slowly, turning to face you, his eyes tired and sad, “Yeah, at least we realized now—” he stops abruptly, pausing to collect himself, “God, I was so stupid, just because I started seeing color one random day because she was in front of me?” He scoffs again, slouching into the bench.

“It made sense though, you were both eager to get your partners and—”

“But to leave you alone?” His voice is raw and soft, “I left you alone when you were right there.” Slowly, as if he were a hologram or mirage you couldn’t quite reach, you extend your hand to rest your hand on his warm cheek, almost shocked that he’s there. Unintentionally, he leans into your hand, closing his eyes gently. “We can begin now. Rather a late start than never. We have the rest of our lives to get it right.”

Felix buries his face into the crook of your shoulder, pressing firm, confident kisses and hot, stinging hickies into your neck. You run your hands up the bare expanse of his back and up to his hair. Flush spreads across your cheeks as he lifts himself up to gaze down at your bare chest but you don’t cover yourself up. You have nothing to hide. “Have you ever done this before?” You whisper to him. He shakes his head softly, leaning down to trail kisses from the base of your neck through the valley between your breasts. Lower, his kisses get wetter as he gets closer to your aching hotness. As if you’re made of paper, Felix gingerly spreads your legs. The cold air hitting your core causes you to flinch, but Felix’s warm palm presses slowly against you, calming the sensation into pleasure.

“May I?”

You whine out a ‘yes’, groaning when his sinks a finger into your core. It sucks his finger in and Felix barely contains a moan at the sensation, imagining how you’d feel around him. Slowly, he begins to pump his single finger into you before adding another and scissoring deep. Curling his fingers, he brushes your sweet spot, causing you to gasp and arch your back.

Smiling to himself, he continues to work at that spot until you’re gasping and moaning incessantly. He pulls out and you whine immediately but he positions himself above you, gazing down at you with adoration even while his impossibly hard dick pokes against you. “Hurry, Lixie, please do it,” you whine and he hushes you with a kiss, slowly sliding in and caressing his tongue against yours when you gasp. Your face is scrunched up at the unfamiliar stretch but Felix can’t help but smile down at you, endeared. His eyes are dark at the sensation of him dragging against your walls. When you begin to relax around him, you start whining again and he giggles, slowly beginning to thrust up into you. There’s nothing desperate or wanton about his movements against you. He’s being gentle, letting you feel him as his drags along your walls though it takes all his self control to not increase the pace. It’s deep and rhythmic, his hips against yours. He fills you up and groans as you seem to suck him up, your juices mixing with his precum.

“Baby, you’re so warm and so—mhg—tight,” he gasps against you, “Can I go faster?”

“Yeah,” you’re breathless and rake your fingers across his back when he starts to do just that. He positions his hip in a way that has himself dragging across your sweet spot and you screaming with every thrust. He reaches down to rub your clit, stars and lights sparking across your vision as a burning coil begins wind in your gut. The groans and moans he lets out when you unintentionally clench around him paired with the way his movements quicken as he becomes desperate push you closer. “Y/n, I’m g-gonna cum,” he whispers, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin. “Me too, Lixie,” you gasp, running your hands over his body.

“I love you.” Your high crashes over you, white pleasure electrifying you through your body as you feel Felix shoot into you. The burning pleasure overcomes your senses as he collapses next to you, his hair sticking to his forehead as he pants into your neck, smiling deeply in pure bliss. Euphoric, you tug him closer, pressing a kiss to the freckle on the tip of his nose, onto both his cheeks, and finally onto his warm, glossy lips.

“I love you too, Lixie.” He is yours and you are his. That’s how it was predestined and you both have fulfilled destiny.

217 notes · View notes

ucflibrary · 3 years

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Women’s History Month began as a week-long celebration in Sonoma, California in 1978 which was centered around International Women’s Day on March 8. A year later during a women’s history conference at Sarah Lawrence College, participants learned how successful the week was and decided to initiate similar in their own areas. President Carter issued the first proclamation for a national Women’s History Week in 1980. In 1987, Congress (after being petitioned by the National Women’s History Project) passed Pub. L. 100-9 designating March as Women’s History Month. U.S. Presidents have issued proclamations on Women’s History Month since 1988.

The Libraries will be hosting two virtual events to celebrate Women’s History Month for 2021. The first is a talk by Nicholson School of Communication faculty member, Dr. Kimberly Voss, called “Make No Mistake, Florida is Crucial”: Sen. Lori Wilson and the Equal Rights Amendment, which discusses efforts to ratify the ERA in Florida. The second is a panel discussion called Women & Academia in the Time of COVID where five UCF faculty and administrators will discuss the impact of the COVID pandemic and remote learning on their teaching, scholarship, service loads and personal lives. Both events are free and open to the public. Click on the links to register to attend.

We have created a list of books about women, both history and fiction, suggested by staff. Please click on the read more link below to see the full book list with descriptions and catalog links. And don’t forget to stop by the John C. Hitt Library to browse the featured bookshelf on the main floor near the Research & Information Desk for additional Women’s History Month books.

A Girl of the Limberlost by Gene Stratton Porter Elnora Comstock grows up on the banks of Limberlost Swamp in Indiana with her bitter mother, Katharine. Unable to afford an education, Elnora develops a plan to sell artifacts and moths from the swamp. Suggested by Pat Tiberii, Interlibrary Loan and Document Delivery Services

A Woman of No Importance: the untold story of the American spy who helped win World War II by Sonia Purnell Based on new and extensive research, Sonia Purnell has for the first time uncovered the full secret life of Virginia Hall--an astounding and inspiring story of heroism, spycraft, resistance, and personal triumph over shocking adversity. It is the breathtaking story of how one woman's fierce persistence helped win the war. Suggested by Dawn Tripp, Research & Information Services

All the Horrors of War: a Jewish girl, a British doctor, and the liberation of Bergen-Belsen by Bernice Lerner Drawing on a wealth of sources, including Hughes's papers, war diaries, oral histories, and interviews, this gripping volume combines scholarly research with narrative storytelling in describing the suffering of Nazi victims, the overwhelming presence of death at Bergen-Belsen, and characters who exemplify the human capacity for fortitude. Lerner, Rachel's daughter, has special insight into the torment her mother suffered. The first book to pair the story of a Holocaust victim with that of a liberator, it compels readers to consider the full, complex humanity of both. Suggested by Katie Kirwan, Acquisitions & Collections

Data Feminism by Catherine D'Ignazio and Lauren F. Klein This book offers strategies for data scientists seeking to learn how feminism can help them work toward justice, and for feminists who want to focus their efforts on the growing field of data science. But it is about much more than gender. It is about power, about who has it and who doesn't, and about how those differentials of power can be challenged and changed. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

Field o' My Dreams: the poetry of Gene Stratton-Porter compiled and edited by Mary DeJong Obuchowski In her introduction to Porter’s work, Obuchowski argues that the natural and spiritual themes of Porter’s poetry mirror the self-same concerns regarding nature and social issues found in her fiction and nonfiction. Reflecting and in some cases reacting against, current social attitudes at a time of political and demographic change, she was in demand as a columnist for popular magazines and a widely read fiction writer. Porter wielded considerable influence over her reading public, and in that role she acted as a reformer, particularly regarding the environment but also on behalf of women, children, and education. Suggested by Pat Tiberii, Interlibrary Loan and Document Delivery Services

Finish the Fight!: the brave and revolutionary women who fought for the right to vote written by the Staff of The New York Times Who was at the forefront of women's right to vote? We know a few famous names, like Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton, but what about so many others from diverse backgrounds—black, Asian, Latinx, Native American, and more—who helped lead the fight for suffrage? On the hundredth anniversary of the historic win for women's rights, it's time to celebrate the names and stories of the women whose stories have yet to be told. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

Founding Sisters and the Nineteenth Amendment by Eleanor Clift In this riveting account, political analyst Eleanor Clift chronicles the many thrilling twists and turns of the suffrage struggle and shows how the issues and arguments that surrounded the movement still reverberate today. Beginning with the Seneca Falls Woman’s Rights Convention of 1848, Clift introduces the movement’s leaders, recounts the marches and demonstrations, and profiles the opposition–antisuffragists, both men and women, who would do anything to stop women from getting the vote. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

Free Food for Millionaires by Min Jin Lee Casey Han's four years at Princeton gave her many things, "But no job and a number of bad habits." Casey's parents, who live in Queens, are Korean immigrants working in a dry cleaner, desperately trying to hold on to their culture and their identity. Their daughter, on the other hand, has entered into rarified American society via scholarships. But after graduation, Casey sees the reality of having expensive habits without the means to sustain them. As she navigates Manhattan, we see her life and the lives around her, culminating in a portrait of New York City and its world of haves and have-nots. This fresh exploration of the complex layers we inhabit both in society and within ourselves. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

From Equal Suffrage to Equal Rights: Alice Paul and the National Woman's Party, 1910-1928 by Christine A. Lunardini The woman's movements and work in American history during the second two decades, was dramatic. It dealt with the past, with pageants and politics; with different organizations and with conflict from within. It took on the Democrats, founded a National Woman's Party; it waged a home front war. It dealt with prison, and resolution. It went from equal suffrage to equal rights. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

Indelicacy by Amina Cain A cleaning woman at a museum of art nurtures aspirations to do more than simply dust the paintings around her. She dreams of having the liberty to explore them in writing, and so must find a way to win herself the time and security to use her mind. She escapes her lot by marrying a rich man, but having gained a husband, a house, high society, and a maid, she finds that her new life of privilege is no less constrained. Not only has she taken up different forms of time-consuming labor - social and erotic - but she is now, however passively, forcing other women to clean up after her. Perhaps another and more drastic solution is necessary? Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

See Jane Win: the inspiring story of the women changing American politics by Caitlin Moscatello After November 8, 2016, first came the sadness; then came the rage, the activism, and the protests; and, finally, for thousands of women, the next step was to run for office—many of them for the first time. More women campaigned for local or national office in the 2018 election cycle than at any other time in US history, challenging accepted notions about who seeks power and who gets it. Journalist Caitlin Moscatello reported on this wave of female candidates for New York magazine's The Cut, Glamour, and Elle. In this book, she further documents this pivotal time in women's history. Closely following four candidates throughout the entire process, from the decision to run through Election Day, readers are taken inside their exciting, winning campaigns and the sometimes thrilling, sometimes brutal realities of running for office while female. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Taking on the Trust: the epic battle of Ida Tarbell and John D. Rockefeller by Steve Weinberg Long before the rise of mega-corporations like Wal-Mart and Microsoft, Standard Oil controlled the oil industry with a monopolistic force unprecedented in American business history. Undaunted by the ruthless power of its owner, John D. Rockefeller, a fearless and ambitious reporter named Ida Minerva Tarbell confronted the company known simply as “The Trust.” Through her peerless fact gathering and devastating prose, Tarbell, a muckraking reporter at McClure’s magazine, pioneered the new practice of investigative journalism. Her shocking discoveries about Standard Oil and Rockefeller led, inexorably, to a dramatic confrontation during the opening decade of the twentieth century that culminated in the landmark 1911 Supreme Court antitrust decision breaking up the monopolies and forever altering the landscape of modern American industry. Suggested by Dawn Tripp, Research & Information Services

The Book of Gutsy Women: favorite stories of courage and resilience by Hillary Rodham Clinton and Chelsea Clinton Hillary Rodham Clinton and her daughter, Chelsea, share the stories of the gutsy women who have inspired them—women with the courage to stand up to the status quo, ask hard questions, and get the job done. Ensuring the rights and opportunities of women and girls remains a big piece of the unfinished business of the twenty-first century. While there's a lot of work to do, we know that throughout history and around the globe women have overcome the toughest resistance imaginable to win victories that have made progress possible for all of us. That is the achievement of each of the women in this book. To us, they are all gutsy women -- leaders with the courage to stand up to the status quo, ask hard questions, and get the job done. So in the moments when the long haul seems awfully long, we hope you will draw strength from these stories. Because if history shows one thing, it's that the world needs gutsy women. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

The Good Fight by Shirley Chisholm Chisholm describes being the first woman, and first black woman, to run for President, and how politicians operate. She writes about her relationships with black political leaders Walter Fauntroy, Louis Stokes, Ron Dellums, and Julian Bond. She gives her views on what direction black politics should take in the years to come. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Unapologetic: a Black, queer, and feminist mandate for radical movements by Charlene A. Carruthers Drawing on Black intellectual and grassroots organizing traditions, including the Haitian Revolution, the US civil rights movement, and LGBTQ rights and feminist movements, Carruthers challenges all of us engaged in the social justice struggle to make the movement for Black liberation more radical, more queer, and more feminist. She offers a flexible model of what deeply effective organizing can be, anchored in the Chicago model of activism, which features long-term commitment, cultural sensitivity, creative strategizing, and multiple cross-group alliances. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Unmarriageable by Soniah Kamal In this retelling of Pride and Prejudice set in modern-day Pakistan, Alys Binat has sworn never to marry--until an encounter with one Mr. Darsee at a wedding makes her reconsider. A scandal and vicious rumor in the Binat family have destroyed their fortune and prospects for desirable marriages, but Alys, the second and most practical of the five Binat daughters, has found happiness teaching English literature to schoolgirls. Knowing that many of her students won't make it to graduation before dropping out to marry and start having children, Alys teaches them about Jane Austen and her other literary heroes and hopes to inspire them to dream of more. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

#ucflibrary #featured bookshelf #women's history month #booklr #reading list #tumblarians

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rakeshys · 4 years

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Things you should be knowing as student

1) If you take control of your Sunday, you take control of your week.

2) When assigned a long-term project, finish some amount of work toward its completion that very same day.

3) Start small and start immediately.

4) If you cannot maintain an organized room you will never truly feel that your life is organized.

5) It is important to keep your room clean. And it will make your mother happy.

6) Apply to the scholarships.

7) You should never begin studying without a systemized plan for what you are going to review, in what format, and how many times.

8) Before you even crack your first book, take ten minutes to actually write down exactly how you plan to study.

9) The planning is as important as the process.

10) If you want to become a standout student, you must befriend a professor.

11) Reading a daily paper provides essential food for your ambitious brain. Make sure you don't go hungry.

12) if you are constantly worried about avoiding anything negative, you will never do anything out of the ordinary.

13) Don't let others dictate how you should feel about yourself; strengthen your identity—then go conquer your world.

14) do yourself a favor and give time-blocking a try. It's a much smarter way to manage your day.

15) Remember, giving up, when done strategically, is not a weakness. It's simply smart life management.

16) The happiest students are also the most involved students. When it comes to crafting your slate of collegiate pursuits, the sooner you get involved, the better.

17) always be working on a"grand project "

18) take art history and astronomy before you graduate.

19) Imagine the following scene: Your professor is handing back a major research paper to your class. The groans that begin to fill the room indicate that the professor was particularly demanding for this assignment. And rightly so, it's worth forty percent of your grade. As he gets to your name, he asks you to stay after class. Uh oh. Nervously you wait as your classmates file out, and when you are the only student remaining in the lecture hall, he walks up to you . . . and then shakes your hand. “Congratulations,” he exclaims, “your project was by far the best in the class!”

Sound good? Well, get used to it.

20) One or two good questions a class is enough to keep the professor happy, but not enough to solicit the annoyance of your classmates.

21) Getting involved with research early is like drinking an elixir of success.

22) If you pay your dues with grace and enthusiasm and are mindful of the opportunity you are receiving, you will maximize the many positive benefits of participating in original research work.

23) Take ten-minute breaks in between each fifty-minute chunk.

24) One, it makes you feel better about yourself. If you look good, you can imagine that cute guy or dimpled girl in the front row shooting some glances in your direction. This will make you happy. And when you are happy, you have more energy and pay attention better in class. Two, it makes the day official. When you look like you just rolled out of bed, it's all too easy to imagine rolling back in. If you dressnicely, you are sending yourself the message that you are ready to get started and attack the day.

25) Decorate your room.

26) experience the joy of dominating a test without any hard work,this is done by studying Two weeks in advance.

27) Force yourself to write as much as possible. It is an essential, irreplaceable skill for succeeding. Master it.

28) taking the time to eat a social meal with your friends is a great idea; just don't do it more than once a day.

29) Schedule an escape for yourself every single week. And do it alone. Treat it like taking medicine.

30) “Why waste your time and money in the minor leagues of college courses when you have the ability to be swinging in the majors.”

31) When it comes time to study, go where it counts.

32)The best way to learn difficult material is to go over it by yourself, with a lot of concentration, again and again and again until the concepts become second nature.

33) As long as you are paying so much money to attend college, you might as well maximize what you get out of your investment. If you can get into an honors program, do so. No excuses.

34) The key is consistency.

35) Getting fired up, once or twice a month about subjects that interest you, will go a long to way to helping you succeed. Go to guest lectures and keep your intellectual fires stoked.

36) Don't let the decision to exercise become a debatable question. Instead, make it a habit, like going to class or brushing your teeth.

37) You never realize how important your back-home friendships are until you begin to lose them. Stay in touch.

38) Sleep is just a tool to help you function. Treat your body like a machine—give it exactly what it needs to perform its best, not any more, not any less. Give the snooze button a rest. Try to sleep only the amount you need to make it through the day.

39) The best state for your mind to be in is confident and calm. Take the hour before an exam to relax.

40) Read a nonacademic book. Listen to music that makes you happy. Run a couple of errands. Have a conversation with a friend. Work on unrelated—nondemanding—schoolwork. The key is to keep your mind active and energized, but not exhausted. Then head over to the exam fifteen minutes early. On the way, start to lightly review some material that you feel particularly good about. Imagine yourself writing a strong essay on this topic, imagine the professor handing the class a copy of your essay as an example of a good answer. This technique is more than just shameless ego-stroking, it builds your confidence, and, more important, it warms up your mind in a good and controlled sort ofway. When you arrive at the test location, avoid the temptation to frantically catalog all the concepts you are a little shaky on. Try to keep your mind blank, or, alternatively, continue thinking confidence-boosting thoughts about doing really well. When the exam is finally handed out, take a deep breath and have at it. You should be mentally nimble, rested, and energized by the time your pen hits the paper.

41) If a friend invites you to do something and you are not too busy, find the energy to go. If a friend invites you to do something, and you are really busy, don't go, but make plans to get together later in the week. Most important, if a good friend needs help, drop everything and go.

Making friends your number one priority doesn't mean sacrificing your other obligations, but it does demand that you keep them in mind.

42) Be mature and make the right decisions to keep your mind and body in a condition to perform your best.

43) The point is that there are too many factors that can account for both good and mediocre academic performance on any given day, and none of these factors has anything to do with intelligence.

So save yourself a lot of unjustified grief (or pride), and simply ignore your classmates' grades. Worry about your performance and progress; let your classmates worry about their own.

44) A good listener at college is rare.

45) Don't decide to start working the day before.

46) Find something every single day that will make you laugh.

47) Using a high-quality notebook will not guarantee you success, but it will create the right environment for it to flourish.

48) if you don't actively seek out fun, it won't actively seek out you.

49) Take the most important projects or commitments with which you are involved, and pump up your criteria for success.

50) corporate recruitment sessions, and yes, even parties. In the chaos of classes, extracurricular activities, and a healthy social schedule, these optional events are easy to avoid. Don't avoid them.

51) If you want to be a successful student, forget about your G.P.A. Ignore it. Don't talk about it. Make no attempt to know the numbers. You should approach your collegiate career with confidence and energy.

52) Always go to class!

53) Set arbitrary deadlines.

54) eat healthy

55) don't just volunteer, volunteer quietly.

56) approach every paper as if you were trying to win a Pulitzer Prize for explanatory reporting.

57) Attend political rallies and keep the flame of progressive thinking alive.

58) Once you have decided on a destination, explore many routes to get you there.

59) Don't take breaks between classes!

60) Don't network. But keep your connections strong.

61) If you can maximize the use of your surroundings, you can maximize your performance as a student.

62) Organize the messages in your e-mail in-box like you would your paper files

63) To be a successful student, you must abandon the start-slow, end-fast mind-set, and instead approach all projects by aiming to start fast, end slow.

64) Spend a semester studying abroad.

65) you want to succeed because you love the excitement of pushing your potential and exploring your world and new experiences, if you want to succeed because life is short and why not fill it with as much activity as possible, then you will win. If you approach life with an attitude of never having regrets and always having a hopeful smile on your face, you can find a measure of success in all your endeavors. Don't have no regrets, but have plenty of fun along the way. In the end, that is what it is to really win.

66) “Don't have no regrets.”

The above points are all from the book I read...

Book: - HOW TO WIN AT COLLEGE: - surprising secrets from the country's top student's

Author: - CAL NEWPORT

Anime forever ✌

#student #college #school hacks #college hacks

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beliamh-its-me · 3 years

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Performance overview & Research

The overarching theme of My Country is inspired by the question, ‘How united is the United Kingdom?’. The idea behind the theme derived from the contrasting verbatim scripted opinions surrounding Brexit. Through acknowledging the vast amount of opinions and stories, we compared each region to the referendum results. Not only did this support our theme, it helped to structure the fictional manifestations of regional characters. For example, Caledonia’s persona has been based off the Scottish remain vote totalling 62.0% (BBC, 2016). So, in order to amplify this, Caledonia is extremely defensive and angry in a way to foreshadow the verbatim lines. Brexit links to the exploitation of corruption within the UK’s patriotism, something amplified in the script. A poignant line, to support the theme comes from Theresa May, ‘...a vision that works not for the privileged few’. The message shows the government promoting the UK as a satisfied minority, proposing changes are needed. This idea finishes the play, leaving the audience questioning the current political climate. We aspire to start a conversation, about politics and its importance. May, quickly became the Conservative party leader. Offering an idea that Brexit was a distant idea, until it was not, accompanied with unsettling optimism. Another issue that arises is the name ‘Brexit’. Broken-down it means ‘Britain’ and ‘Exit’. This means Northern Ireland is excluded from the branding, linking to a long history of division within the UK, and is played on in the script. The major element, being the lack of spoken lines from NI through verbatim, to create the sense of lesser respect for NI’s opinions. The theme of delight breaks tension in the performance. During the fictional scenes, there is shared food, facts and laughter! This is important in remaining partial, but mostly to celebrate the UK for individuality. The constant return of the characters throughout the verbatim sections, create a sense of familiarity. The creative vision is synonymous with the medium, Zoom. The Guardian (2019) reported that Farage’s party accounted for 51% of all shared content on Facebook and Twitter during the campaign. Meaning that Brexit was a social media operation. We used this to incorporate the fictional characters. This is shown through using Facebook inspired videos that indicate joining a ‘Pub Chat’ group call. This implies the characters oversee the verbatim characters, and join the audience in watching the performance. Further, creating a sense of realism as the audience form a relationship with the fictional characters. Both parties are learning about the Brexit repercussions, however the voices of the nation’s get drunk instead resolving the issues within the discussion. This imitates life, as Brexit was unclear.

The creative vision started with explicit use of the Facebook page however, due to complications of practicality, we decided to use the page as an implied structure, through ‘Pub chat’ videos. This was determined after wanting to use a link to the page, to display images alongside monologues. The page distracted the words being spoken, so we refrained. Click here for rehearsal footage

In two ways we have portrayed to the audience the right atmosphere. First, creating a sense of urgency through breaking up scenes with movement and digital influence. This mirrors the masses of campaigning prevalent at the time, and allows information to form in an unbiased way. The second aspect is placing the audience vote before the ‘vote’ scene. This immerses the audience and clarifies a timeline of the performance.

We discussed other avenues to separate the fictional characters from verbatim. Through development of the first scene, we determined that costume would support our intentions. All fictional scenes have Union Jack hats and tops. This is so we can physically change our aesthetic to make transitions easier for the audience. Click here for rehearsal footage.

Research:

My Country- a work in progress, is a verbatim play created by Carol Ann Duffy and Rufus Norris (2017). Duffy is an award-winning writer for her work writing raw and expressive poetry and plays. Duffy’s work includes Take My Husband (1982) and Standing Female Nude (1985). Rufus Norris has acted, written and directed numerous plays/operas such as, Market Boy (2006), Cabaret(2007) (BBC, 2013). Together these playwrights have been able to create an enticing piece surrounding the Brexit debate, with views from numerous angles of the leave/remain spectrum. Verbatim interviews promise direct access to actual lived experiences and make them authentic (Fisher, 2011). To convey Brexit and the volume of controversy surrounding it, verbatim is one of the best ways to express the UK’s concerns fairly. The final vote was 51.9% Leave, 48.1% remain (BBC, 2016). This shows that it is almost impossible to depict the UK’s opinions without using both sides, especially when looking at regions such as Northern Ireland and Scotland who have a troubled history with England. Summerskill (2021) see’s verbatim as ‘Documenting aspects of historical material which tend to be missing from other sources relating to lived experience (p. 24). With the combination of media, technology can thicken participant’s experience, through building different versions of reality, or spaces (Burnett, 2019). This supports our intentions to blend education with theatrics. It also justifies our ideas to improve audience connection. Our audience, typically, were under the voting age during the referendum. This means that, although the effects of Brexit will deeply govern their lives, they had no say in the matter. With the use of verbatim we can transfer the thoughts, feelings and facts from the UK to give the audience an education. Although Brexit has happened, the British Youth Council (2020) are still fighting for young people to be ‘stakeholders in [their] future’. Through reminding them of the past we could motivate them to work on their future in this country. The challenges of creating a political performance entail removing any bias, to allow a genuine response from audience members. If it is done correctly, the abstract creation of political theatre can initiate enquiry and evaluation instead of negative confrontation (Kritzer, 2008).

When looking at companies to influence ideas throughout the creative process, I wanted to draw on two avenues:

The first, being movement to enhance the digital platform. As the creator of the ‘Feast’ and ‘Europe’ sequences, I wanted to make sure that we were utilising the ability to make smaller gestures, whilst still adding abstract and full-bodied movement. I drew inspiration from DV8, a physical theatre company. DV8’s published work of Can We Talk About This?, depict a woman talking in verbatim whilst holding a tea cup. The movement around her is abstract and exciting. The idea to have a focus whilst also conveying deeper dramaturgical control is powerful and I wanted it to be seen within the above-mentioned scenes.

The second, the incorporation of portraying political information. I have drawn on a slightly abstract perspective for this influence. This American Life (2020) by Ross Gay explores delight, which is one of our themes, in this there is a podcast of a boy getting the bus for the first time. Although he is surrounded by the excitement of childhood, he still speaks of death and anxiety. This is something echoed in our piece, a lot of the audience members have been treated like children in the eye of Brexit, but are being given the platform to learn it as they maybe should have at the time. We use our polls to give the audience the chance to express this.

The link below will take you to a specific research document for this performance, containing sources for performance material and references.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1X5ibI5xWIoWm3bK9W6aAgplQtarR-Hq5gq8m9uGf1u4/edit

The link below will take you to the social media page:

https://www.facebook.com/RuleBritannia1922

Bibliography

Afflick, R. (2020). ‘British Youth Council urge Government to consult young people on Brexit’. British Youth Council, 31 January. Available at: https://www.byc.org.uk/news/2020/british-youth-council-urge-government-to-consult-young-people-on-brexit (Accessed: 12 March 2021).

‌BBC (2015). ‘EU Referendum Results’. BBC News. Available at: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/politics/eu_referendum/results (Accessed: 2 March 2021).

Burnett, C. et al. (2019) ‘Conceptualising Digital Technology Integration in Participatory Theatre from a Sociomaterialist Perspective: Ways Forward for Research’, Research Papers in Education, 34(6), pp. 680–700. Available at: https://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=eric&AN=EJ1229827&site=eds-live&scope=site (Accessed: 12 March 2021).

DV8 (2021). DV8 Physical Theatre. Dv8.co.uk. Available at: https://www.dv8.co.uk/media-portal (Accessed: 8 May 2021).

DV8 (2021). DV8 Physical Theatre. Dv8.co.uk. Available at: https://www.dv8.co.uk/projects/can-we-talk-about-this/foreword-by-lloyd-newson (Accessed: 12 May 2021).

Fisher, A. (2011) ‘Trauma, Authenticity and the Limits of Verbatim’, Performance Research, 16(1), pp. 112–122. doi: 10.1080/13528165.2011.561683

Gay, R.. (2020). The Show of Delights - This American Life. Available at: https://www.thisamericanlife.org/692/the-show-of-delights (Accessed: 12 May 2021).

Kritzer, A. (2008) Political Theatre in Post-Thatcher Britain: New Writing, 1995-2005. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan

My Country: A Work In Progress by C.A. Duffy (2017)

Savage, M. (2019). ‘How Brexit party won Euro elections on social media – simple, negative messages to older voters’. The Guardian, 29 June. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2019/jun/29/how-brexit-party-won-euro-elections-on-social-media (Accessed: 26 April 2021).

Smith, N. (2013). ‘Rufus Norris: Who is the new National Theatre director?’ BBC News, 15 October. Available at: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-24532470 (Accessed: 10 March 2021).

Summerskill, C. (2021) Creating verbatim theatre from oral histories. Routledge: New York.

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concretepavermolds · 3 years

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Patio Walk Maker Stepping Stone Concrete Paver Molds

The estimated mildew life is 2000 castings with proper storage and use. Always use a release agent (We suggest G-1 Release) and retailer on a flat, surface in a cool, dry location out of direct sunlight. While utilizing the molds outside, throw a tarp over them or maintain them out of direct daylight. The analysis presents the performance of every participant active within the global Pultrusion market. It also provides a abstract and highlights the present advancements of every participant available in the market. This piece of data is a superb source of research materials for the traders and stakeholders involved out there https://columbiamachine.com/concrete-molds/.

All you have to do is borrow expertise developed hundreds of years in the past by mariners.

But keep in mind that the concrete paver molds for every paver must be equivalent, else you might face a problem whereas laying them.

Note, as nicely, that you can make many other concrete materials with this method.

The producers say that you do not actually must lubricate the mildew prior to pouring in cement, in contradiction to other reviewers who've ceaselessly suggested that that is the case. As properly, should you only wish to use one sq. part of the mildew, you can add the concrete just to that utilizing a small carton like a coffee can. This concrete path kind offered by Kenley is well-made, durable, useful and suitable for making straight edges, curves, and angles. Users love the price and the patterns, but some do observe that it’s small. It's best to ease the shape out of the ground, somewhat than simply lifting it up vertically- it helps prevent sticking cement. You can even create partial, or single, cobbles by selectively pouring the concrete using a halved gallon jug.

Kerbstone Mould

This possibility features hydraulic proportional management to vary the width of the mildew while paving, to provide a tapered slab. Lateral travel and vertical plow control can be operated manually or set on automated. Three proximity switches present horizontal directional control of the spreader-plow. A single change is set at every finish of the specified plow travel.

and therapy from a doctor expert in working with mould sufferers. I also convey hard-earned knowledge from my years of experience coping with and remediating my house and physique for mildew efficiently. My relations and I are now symptom free, and our home has tested mycotoxin-free of mould. As with any new merchandise or well being protocols, I advise you to hunt out your individual experts and medical doctors and to not solely base your recovery on ANY suggestion or methodology I write about in this blog.

As a development materials, concrete could be forged in virtually any form desired, and as soon as hardened, can turn out to be a structural element. Concrete can be used within the development of structural elements like panels, beams, and avenue furnishings, or could also be cast-in situ for superstructures like roads and dams. These could also be supplied with concrete combined on website, or could also be provided with 'ready-combined' concrete made at everlasting mixing websites. Portland cement can also be utilized in mortars , for plasters and screeds, and in grouts (cement/water mixes squeezed into gaps to consolidate foundations, street-beds, and so on.). The lower the amount of water in a traditional concrete mix, the lower its droop. Low droop values in traditional mixes typically mean greater high quality concrete.

Rubber Paver Mould Tiles Manufacturers

The Market Reports Insights provides numerous options and its full addition in the analysis methods to be skilled at every step. We use extensive-ranging assets to produce one of the best end result for our customers.

Analysts have revealed that the Pultrusion market has proven a number of significant developments over the past few years. The report begins with a short introduction and market overview of the Pultrusion industry followed by its market scope and dimension. Next, the report provides an outline of market segmentation corresponding to type, software, and region. The drivers, limitations, and alternatives for the market are additionally listed, along with present developments and policies in the business.

The reason for the 4-5 inch thickness is because of cracking. Would it not be affordable to suppose that the energy lies with the individual items being so small? Sure, I may even see some cracking within the mortar joints, however that might be easily patched.

Rubber Paver Mildew In Mali

So to avoid having any surprises with color, I strongly suggest that you simply make two take a look at pieces before beginning this stepping stones project. It’s protected to calculate 1 bag per massive 3’ x 2’ diy concrete stepping stone. The are decorative stepping stones and could be made by including mosaic glass or other embeddable supplies. Making my very own concrete stepping stones required much less prep work with the ground as a result of the concrete is self-leveling. So I decided I’d make stepping stones that might appear to be real fieldstone, using concrete after all.

If you have an space with a big concentration of mildew or algae, use the laundry additive undiluted together with your scrub brush. This will kill what is there and can prevent additional development. Now, I obviously realize that Tim is giving the best and soundest recommendation he is aware of, and I additionally understand that I am NOT an expert builder.

A reviewer shares that you simply want eighty lb of cement to make 4 steps and that the mould is easy to use. He highly recommends it to every DIY fan as the best stroll maker. Another reviewer shares that 60 lb of concrete are sufficient to fill the form, and he advises that you spray the stroll maker with Pam every time to attain clean edges.

Since I'm in no rush and have loads of time I would like to hear from someone who has actually tried this technique before. I even have 225sqft I'm going to be putting in pavers on so roughly $500 or so for normal formed pavers. My spouse is wanting completely different designs so if this method is cheaper it might be a great route. Of course, there is a distinction between common concrete paver molds and the poisonous black mildew that we hear about on the information. If you think you could have toxic black mold rising in your paving stones, concrete or bricks, it is best to bring in mould remediation consultants who can safely take away this potential well being hazard. It is, at greatest, an unpleasant nuisance and, at worst, a health hazard.

My Interview With Indoor Air Quality Extraordinaire

These products are custom-made in varied shapes and sizes as per the wants and necessities of the shoppers. We are Manufacturing and Exporting the best quality vary of PVC Wave Paver Mould. We are Manufacturing and Exporting the highest quality vary of PVC Grass Paver Mould.

With the mold sides in place and the entrance latched, seal the corners with paraffin. Determine how a lot concrete to combine by the amount of the mold. After taking up each mildew, you will want to spray the fresh concrete with water whereas it is curing.

A professional contractor informed us that after all of the concrete has set, it is a good idea to do some strain washing on the finished stone patio and apply some semi-transparent stain.

The Walk Maker® can be placed on any relatively flat floor.

Concrete with plasticizers and a excessive stoop may very well have less water than a traditional concrete combine with a low slump.

You wish to take preventative measures to maintain any plaster out of your working clay, so we wanted to maintain this as contained and tidy as possible.

Toward the tip of my stone making, I skipped taping the ends together as a result of the mildew held its shape in part because I was in a position to push some extra pebbles up against the sides.

Technically, the stones will reach their full cure in three-4 weeks- which means their full power. Now you'll use the plastic bag to realize two issues, one is to mix the colors more and the opposite is to create the stone-like texture. Blend these colors into the stone and into each other the best way you might with a watercolor portray. If your pigment is a powder, then mix some water in with it.

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Concrete Walkway Path Maker

Test the bleach on a small area earlier than continuing with a full-blown assault on the mould. Don't use muriatic acid; this liquid is just too sturdy and could damage the pavers, Carvalho warns. Wear old clothes and ensure to guard your eyes and face. Vollert is the leading expert associate for concrete works, building firms and property developers when it comes to trendy precast concrete manufacturing. They have ardour to produce intelligently designed plant and machinery ideas that are optimally tailor-made for you. Vollert know-how ensures economic processes mixed with an optimal level of automation. High-tech machines ensure efficient work processes from CAD/CAM-managed shuttering robots, to totally automated concrete spreader to innovative vacuum turning gear for double wall production.

Plowing and snow blowing are a catastrophe, not to mention the overall look of it. I've at all times been a big fan of stone / cement due to the low upkeep and longevity. Pressure handled lumber just isn't what it use to be anymore. Lay things out on paper, make the cuts you want , stack your blocks where you possibly can reach them, and get to work.

Continue this course of to make as many pavers as you’d like. If you want smaller pavers for sure components of your project, rigorously cut them with a specialty brick saw.

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snapshotsinsidethehotel · 3 years

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Urges Of Nostalgia (Chapter 2)

Here’s the second chapter for the previous story. You can find it here if you want to check that one out first!~

I tried my best to sound professional and reasonable, hoping that this will help in avoiding his burst of anger. Unfortunately, it didn't go my way. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up when Michael showed clear annoyance. He was about to reply before Jerry interrupted him with a clap. We turned to him and I thanked him in my mind for saving me in that situation.

Chapter 2:

"Michael...I can see where you are heading with this entire thing, but don't you think it's too unlikely? The school clearly said to everyone who enrolls that we will be staying here until we graduate, which is about..ten years or so? It's unbelievable to hear already, but that doesn't mean our parents forgot about us.."

"I agree with Donny. The entire thing seems way too fictional to be true. What are we talking about, a mystery novel plot? I think you need to lay off the coffee and take breaks during study, my guy. Your brain is probably mixing up reality and fiction now."

Michael crossed his arms again and sighed loudly. He stayed silent and started to collect his cool. His eyes lit up as he remembered something and started to rummage through the other stacks of paper on the floor. He gave each of us a copy of the same five newspaper pages and smirked.

"Read it. I believe you all love the phrase, seeing is believing. So why not give it to you all to make sure you all are by my side!"

I carefully watched Michael as he walked to the open windows. It was already midnight, and my dorm was still far far away. Ignoring the future of walking alone in the cold night, I looked down at the pile of papers on my hand.

'Tragic disappearance at Matanoeo Camp', 'Mysterious vanish of all students', '30,000+ Students gone missing', 'Kidnapping or Something More? : Matanoeo Camp', 'Boarding school students disappear one by one'

I stared at the array of newspapers being displayed. How...Why? These can't be official news! I gulped as I continued switching through the different papers with fear rushing through my blood, trying to deny it. I looked up at everyone else who also had the confused face. Alexander scanned the room as well and spoke up.

"I'm..No...I know that the world isn’t that fine and dandy out there, but nobody out there believes we're still alive?! Mom doesn't know i'm still alright? All alone.."

His voice broke at the end, maybe out of sadness? or fear? I hesitated to talk but Michael's eyes were focused on me, almost as if they were mocking me. This prompted the others to turn to me with their hopeful eyes searching for someone to guide them. Sheesh..As if I even understood the entire thing. I cleared out my throat and set the papers that I was holding down.

"Erm... Listen. I don't totally understand whatever is happening right now, but um..Michael. Where did you get these papers? I'm not a believer, but i'm a bit curious about this. For all I know, it could have been from someone in our school trying to be funny"

Through my shaking hands and nervous voice, I managed to string together those words. It wasn't from the heart, but rather from the incomprehensible rummage from my brain. I could see Michael slowly giving me a soft smile and he walked back to the table with the others.

"First off, thank you for giving me a chance to explain myself. These documents were handed to me by a friend. You see, that friend...is the son of the principal. He's been on our sides before you all even enrolled here, as he was the one who found out about this revelation in the first place!"

The sounds of gasping and confusion escaped from all our faces, including mine. But after a moment, I started to laugh a bit from our stupidity. All eyes were on me again, I really should've gotten used to it by now.

"Guys..Michael is the student president for goodness sake! It should be expected that he would at least be on good terms with the principal's son!"

Michael nodded and smiled, approving of my understanding. He fully calmed down and was much more happier than he was when they first arrived. Alexander grinned while leaning on his arm,

"The principal had a child? I thought he was one of those creepy old men you see in horror movies."

He remarked with a snarky tone while brushing his hair back. This increased the laughter and the general mood, helping everyone become a tiny bit closer. The only thing missing in this lively mood was a handful of drinks and then everything would be a normal house party!

"Hahaha, Hey! Why is it specifically us, by the way?"

Kurt blurted out through his laughter. This immediately caused everyone to quiet down and think...Something nobody enjoys doing when you're having fun. Michael's smile grew increasingly wider and he stood up again.

"There it is. I was wondering when one of you will mention it. All of you have a record of missing class, and I assume it's due to you all skipping it. Don't you dare try lying to me as I've been researching all of you for a long long time now. And so! This will help me in my little plan"

Jerry looked up from the papers when he heard that this relates to plans. I quietly laugh, knowing that Jerry loved making plans from the bottom of his heart. It used to annoy me back then, but I've gotten used to it after years with him around. He continued to stay silent to the rest of Michael's rambling speeches, which I wasn't listening to either. Suddenly, Michael stopped talking and scanned the room again.

"I have decided to escape from this prison. Maybe help others out if they want to, but my main goal is to get this circle of people to leave this place. I have hope for all of you, since you all know the reality of the outside world compared to the other ignorant students. It's an ambitious idea for one man to handle alone, so I have decided to ask...No! BEG for your participation in this so called 'project'. I will assign you all roles so that this entire thing will go on successfully"

For the first time, I could feel calm around the student president. He radiated determination in his plan and his tone held no fear. It assured me that nothing will go wrong with whatever his plan would be, which would've been a one out of one hundred chance. Even so, I was reluctant to go along since the others still held skeptical looks. Kurt kept switching between the papers and Michael, his dramatically worried face quickly change into an annoyed one.

"You mean this entire thing was so you could get US to help YOU to escape? You should've just gotten your little section to help you instead of us idiots or whatever way you think of us. Don't go on about how amazing your idea is if you don't actually have one in mind!"

He stood up as well and slammed the papers down, glaring at Michael who also became irritated. It was honestly surprising how quickly those two could change personalities in a second, as if they were long lost non-identical twins.

"You're misunderstanding me, Kurt. I suggest you listen more than talk, It might be beneficial for-"

"Yeah right! Get off your high horse and show me the proof of the plan, you don't need to act all highly!"

I stood up since they were starting to get closer and I didn't want to get involved with their own problems. I made my way over to Kurt's seat and made myself comfortable, since he had walked closer to Michael.

"Wasn't this supposed to be a secret thing? Why are they yelling?"

Alexander continued his talk when I sat down besides them, curious about their conversation.

"Shouldn't you stop them? This is turning into a sleepover at this point"

I asked them, confused about the entire situation. The two smirked and nodded at their newly formed plan.

"Michael, Jerry, please take your seats first. You must be professional in meetings"

He demanded them as if he was copying Michael's leader tone. This worked surprisingly well and the two went back to their designated seats, apart from Kurt since I was currently in his spot. Once they were there and were both calm, Jerry started.

"Anyways, let's bring it back to the reason why we're here. As Michael has mentioned, he has a plan for us. But what are those plans? Apart from the escaping part, how can the others and me help the plan progress?"

I chuckled inside and started to remember those times when he had a schedule for the both of us, and forced me to follow them no matter what. If he doesn't approve of this plan, Jerry would do everything in his power to make it correct. Details was the number one important thing to him, so I was obviously internally excited about this.

Michael was panicking by the looks of it, but he smiled again and grabbed an empty bond paper from underneath again. He stood up and motioned Jerry to sit down, so that he would be the only leader in this meeting. He wrote our names and stared at it for a bit.

"I have assigned you roles. These roles will aid you all in the future, and it's based around your skills and talents rather than personality"

He continued writing our roles and showed it to us again. He had assigned himself as obvious leader and spy, Kurt as the medic of the team, me as the supplier, Jerry as the planner, and Alec as the fighter.

Everyone was confused with their roles, as it was vastly different from our skillsets. As for me, how was I able to get the supplier role? I wasn't that good at convincing people to do anything, let alone giving me their stuff. I was dumbfounded! The others were equally as confused and shocked while looking at the piece of paper.

"Okay...Okay! Let me explain myself for a second. Kurt, your dad is a doctor so you must've learnt something from him"

Kurt furrowed his brows and shook his head, trying to interject but Michael continued on.

"Donovan, although you don't talk a lot, you know how to make some good friends. Influential friends too! We'll find a way to get in contact with them, and your help would be appreciated"

I smirked sarcastically, because although my other friends were good at getting supplies, I just felt like a useless road to get to the ultimate destination.

"Alexander, I've heard about your pain tolerance, which is amazingly high. You'll be great during whatever battles!"

Alec stared at him without commenting, not minding his position in the team.

"And Jerry, best for last! You can make our plans, thank you!"

Michael cheerfully proclaimed, which made Jerry a bit annoyed. Kurt was fuming in the corner, but I tried to ignore him for now and focused on Jerry's increasing anger. I almost started laughing when Jerry erupted,

"Michael, I understand that you're just a single guy and not everything will be finished especially if it's this big of a project, but isn't the plan the exact point you invited us all here?"

He was trying his hardest to stay calm, obviously so. Michael only smiled again and nodded, walking closer to Jerry.

"Yes, Jerry. But if you truly want to leave to see your family again, please help us all. I've focused all my attention attempting to collect these documents to make a plan, but I realized that there weren't any time left to form a good plan. So if you could make a plan by tomorrow, it would be highly appreciated!"

Jerry stared confusedly at him. I felt the same, since there was no chance that a normal high-school student would be able to finish a functioning plan by tomorrow. Exams and homework were already piling on, and adding a difficult task to the mix would complicate things further for Jerry.

"Come on now man. Jerry can't handle that, he's only a single guy too! Couldn't we all just work together to make this or something? I mean, we all have the same ideas"

Kurt ran out quickly as soon as the offer was given, but his room was just two floors away anyways. We followed him outside so it doesn't become awkward again inside the room. Alexander waved goodbye as he climbed the pole up to his dorm room.

I tried my best to back up Jerry, as he had done for me before. Michael nodded and agreed, but still seemed hesitant. He got out of the seat and walked over to his bed and sat down.

"I dismiss this meeting today. We may continue tomorrow, but I am not sure. Be careful out there men, it's only going to get better now"

"Heh..This was a rough night, wasn't it?"

I turned to Jerry, who was still admiring the stars. He smiled and nodded without talking, just focusing on the stars as we continued walking. He was probably tired and was too bewildered by the odd offer earlier, so it was understandable. When we arrived at our room, Jerry plopped onto the bed and fell asleep directly which contributed to my theory of him. I walked aside for a bit, just thinking of this rare chance to go home and see my parents again but at a high risk cost.

I'm not even sure I remember my parent's real names due to how long I've been staying here, which makes everyone else my brand new family. Maybe they truly did forget about us? Or they truly did believe I died... This wasn't going to end well, but what other chance do I have? I wanted this. I stared at the roof for a moment before I stood up and walked back to the room.

The idea of being a supplier seemed like hard work, but everyone had a hard time with their own set roles so what can I do but complain? It bothered me to no end, and I ended up not sleeping for the remaining hours of night.

#[January] Snapshot!#[Hall Of Memories] Series Edition!#tw kidnapping #tw kidnap mention #reminder that this is pretty old so go easy on me-

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evalinkatrineberg · 4 years

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Practice Prompt 2

A/N: The dialog with @idaliamoretti and @lady-indiana comes from an rp we did earlier today :)

The knock on my bedroom door made me jump. As quickly as I could, I tugged the white shirt I was holding over my head, still pulling down the hem with one hand as I made my way to the door, opening it with my other.

My father was standing in the other side of the doorway, his car keys in hand. “Proctor wants you to come in and help her out with something today.”

I frowned. I had done a research assistantship with Professor Proctor during the spring semester, after taking her course on genetics in the fall. I loved the work I had done under her, though it was mostly just looking at certain chromosomes under a microscope before and after she had altered the sequence of nucleotides, and comparing how the images varied. Either way, it had gotten my name out there as her assistant on the papers she published, which was certainly something. I definitely couldn’t be credited with most of the work or writing though.

“Why?”

My father shrugged, already walking away from the door. I tied the fabric belt of my flowy black pants in a bow, and began to follow him down the hallway. It wasn’t like Professor Proctor to spring work on me unannounced like this, especially when school wasn’t even in session anymore.

My father made his way immediately to the door when he reached the bottom of the staircase, picking up his work bag, which was already leaning against the shoe rack. He tapped his watch twice, raising an eyebrow in my direction.

“I haven’t even had my coffee yet,” I protested.

“You should’ve gotten up earlier.” My father only shrugged as I grabbed my purse from the hook next to the shoe rack.

“I woke up at the same time I always wake up.” Not a lie. My early morning routine had been the only thing that remained constant these past few weeks. Between capital officials calling or visiting in person, and family members I barely remembered trying to get in touch with me, altogether consuming my every waking moment, my life felt like it had been the unfortunate victim of a hit-and-run accident.

“Not even at the palace yet, and already developing an attitude,” my father noted, holding the door open for me. “That’s not a good sign.”

I sighed, opening the passenger side door of his car the moment two chirps confirmed it was unlocked. “Sorry, I’m just kind of confused and concerned as to why Proctor wants me to come in today.”

As he got in the car himself, he handed me his work bag and nodded, the only sign that he had even heard what I said. He was a man of few words, my father. Always blunt and to the point, he got what he needed to get done done, and didn’t waste people's time with niceties and polite chatter. That part of socializing he left to my mother. It was also probably a big part of why the officials from the palace preferred to have her around when they needed me to sign something, rather than my father.

My absolute favorite moment from the past few weeks had been the time that some official or another had called from the capital, and my father, fed up after a long day at work, had picked up the phone and just yelled, “What? What do you want?” He had then paused, as whoever was on the other line said something, and then calmly, he had said, “Oh, Evalin, it’s for you.” My mother had been absolutely mortified, and had taken the phone out of my hands to apologize profusely to the capital official on behalf of my father. I had found it hilarious, however, and had to leave the room at one point, unable to contain my laughter any longer.

“She probably just needs your help.”

Thank you, Captain Obvious, I thought. I bit my tongue, though. Fighting with my father wasn’t worth it. It never was, but especially not now that this would be our last full day together for a while.

So we continued the rest of our ride in silence. The streets were just beginning to fill with other vehicles as we hit the main roads. I kept my eyes on the cars passing by as I thought about the upcoming Selection. Today really was my last full day in Knoxville. I didn’t know whether to be sad about the fact that I kind of hoped I wouldn’t be back for a while. I would miss my family, sure, but I couldn’t deny that no matter which way the Selection went, it was going to be a life changing experience. I was going to learn and grow from it, and for once in my life, not in the traditional classroom-learning sense.

This could possibly be the last time I was setting foot on this campus, I realized, as my father parked his car. This might be the last time he drove me here, the last time we hugged in the lobby of the biology building before heading down separate hallways, the last time I had to smell the brine of the oyster labs as I passed by them on the way to Professor Proctor’s laboratory. Had I taken all these things for granted?

I swallowed once before walking into the lab, refusing to let myself dwell on all the what-ifs. I was done with what-ifs. The here and now, that was real, and that involved finding out what Proctor needed me to do for her.

My professor was standing in the corner of her laboratory, flipping through the pages of what appeared to be an old book with maroon leather covers. The book itself looked like it was shorter than most normal-sized books, but maybe that was just the angle I was looking at it at. Or maybe most of my time had been consumed by textbooks and official documents the past few months.

“Good morning, Professor,” I said by way of greeting, holding on to the door as it closed behind me to make sure it didn’t slam. “How are you?”

Professor Proctor looked up from her book, shutting it with one hand as she smiled at me. “Good morning, Miss Berg,” she said, her eyes twinkling as she pushed some gray hairs behind her ears and readjusted her glasses. She might be old, but she was no less wise than she had been when she had published the results of her first independent study when she was just twenty-two. I had been ecstatic when I learned that she would be teaching my genetics lecture last fall. I mean, this was a woman whose tenacity and intelligence had always inspired me. I had literally done projects about her in elementary and middle school.

“Or, should I say, Lady Evalin?” One corner of her lip tugged upwards.

I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks as I hung my purse on the coat rack by the door. “That really isn’t necessary, Professor.” Then, turning back to face her, I added, “My father said you wanted me to come in today?”

“Yes.” She began to move towards one of the microscopes, placed on a low lying lab table towards the front of the room. She pulled out two chairs, facing them towards each other, and motioned for me to take the one opposite of her. As I complied, she explained, “I wanted to talk to you before you left.”

That was right - I hadn’t been able to see her since the announcement was made on the Report. My research period with her was over once the spring semester ended, and with all the craziness of the Selection going on, I hadn’t made time to come to campus and seek her out myself.

“Thank you, Professor, for making time for us to talk. I’m sure your schedule must be busy after the release of your latest findings.”

She smiled at my reply. “It may be, but science does not stop and wait for the media circus. There are always new discoveries to be made. The world keeps turning.”

I felt my blush deepen at her clear jab at the Selection. Oh, God, she must have been mad. Or maybe my father had paid her to give me the lecture that he couldn’t bear to give me himself.

“With that in mind,” she continued, “can I ask why on earth you decided to enter yourself in the Selection?”

Oh yes, here it was.

I decided to start with a joke, laughing nervously as I asked, “Did my father put you up to this?”

“Oh, good! He’s already given you this lecture! Now, I don’t have to!”

I sucked on a tooth. That hadn’t gone according to plan, but I decided not to correct her. Professor Proctor gave amazing lectures, but they were always long-winded and strongly worded, and I wasn’t sure I could handle one at the moment. I still hadn’t even had any coffee yet. “I understand that by participating in the Selection, I am putting my education on hold, but this could be a great opportunity. Think about it - if given a position of power and influence, I could promote the inclusion of more women in science!” It definitely wasn’t my primary reason for going, but it was better than admitting my childhood crush on Prince Arin to my professor.

She waved a hand through the air. “The Princess Safiya is already a woman in science herself. You’re more useful here, studying and publishing research to enhance our knowledge of the human genome. By throwing yourself at the shoes of some spoiled boy, you might as well be throwing all of your intelligence and hard work in the sciences into a trashcan, lighting that trashcan on fire, and then kicking it down a flight of stairs.”

I nodded ever so slightly, brows furrowing as I attempted to think of something I could even say in response to that.

The professor saved me from having to respond, though. She clucked her tongue. “None you worry, though! Your time at the palace won’t be a complete waste!”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” I replied flatly. I didn’t know why I was so irritable lately. First the almost-fight with my father, and now this. Was the stress of the competition getting to me already?

“How were you at history, Miss Berg?”

I pursed my lips, thinking back to high school, picturing the marks I had gotten on my exams. “It was my best subject out of the humanities and social sciences. I think a lot of my success had to do with my memorization skills.”

“Good.” Professor Proctor nodded, leaning back in her chair. “So you are aware, then, that Illea did not always exist as a country. Not as it does now, at least.”

“Yes,” I answered hesitantly. Where was she going with this?

“So, then, the Illean caste system, as it exists currently, could not have always existed, right?”

Alarm bells were ringing in my mind. “Yes, but -”

She cut me off. “Tell me, Miss Berg, have you ever dreamed about pursuing another career? Something besides biology?”

Wasn’t that what I was doing by participating in the Selection? Wasn’t that we she was just about to lecture me about before?

I studied the woman across from me. How could she sit there, so relaxed, not a tense muscle in her body, and talk about such things? She was like a spider with a fly already trapped in its web - all she had to do was watch. She had the power to strike at any moment.

“I used to dream of being a ballerina,” I admitted, “but I was four years old, and they were just that - dreams!”

“But what if there was a world where your dream could become a reality?”

“Well, that would require for me to have advanced physical coordination skills, which I don’t,” I stated, staring at her point-blank, my face relaxed. “That fact has nothing to do with the history of Illea.”

A casteless society. Was my professor really hinting at a casteless society? It was downright treasonous of her to be doing so, and bold of her to speak so freely of these things in front of somebody who would be inside the palace tomorrow.

“That’s neither here nor there,” Professor Proctor reprimanded, waving a hand through the air again. “The point I’m getting to, though, is that I have a proposition for you.”

I raised an eyebrow at her, letting out a scoffing laugh. “Okay, what is it?”

“I need you to write me letters while you’re at the palace.”

I frowned. “That’s it?” I had already been planning on writing my family and June, and maybe even Lukas, though I doubted he’d want to hear about the drama that was bound to ensue. I supposed I could add Professor Proctor to the list as well, though I found it highly unlikely that she would want to hear about the drama either.

“Yes, but not just any letters.” Here it was. Here came the catch. “I need you to get information about the plans the government have against the rebels and the abolitionists.”

“No.” The word came out of my mouth before I could even think, before I could even fully consider her proposal to me. “I won’t do it.”

She sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that. I’d hate to have to do this Miss Berg, but if you don’t send me those letters, I will make sure you never work in the field of biology again.” Her eyes narrowed as mine went wide. “If you want a research assistantship after your time gallivanting at the palace is over? You won’t get one from me, or any of my colleagues. You want to get into graduate school when this is all finished? Good luck doing it when no accredited institution worth a grain of salt will accept you.”

I shook my head, standing up and pushing my chair back under the lab table. “Treason, and blackmail,” I hissed, my voice wavering slightly, in spite of my desire for it not to. “I don’t care if you never let me work with you again. I don’t want to.”

“Think carefully on my offer, Miss Berg,” she instructed, not even moving as I made my way across the room to grab my purse. “I won’t hold this little outburst against you.”

I stopped in front of the door, my hand hovering over the doorknob as I looked over my shoulder at her, the woman I had spent most of my life aspiring to be, one last time. “You disgust me.” I shook my head again. “I’ve lost all respect for you.”

I opened the door, flinging it wide as I began to walk down the hallway.

She called after me. “What do you think your father has in your attic, Evalin?”

The door slammed, cutting off anything else she might say. I hurried past the oyster labs and up the stairs, blinking away tears as I made my way into the main hallway. Was I crying? God, I needed to get myself together.

I ducked into the ladies room on my left, right before I entered the main atrium, and threw my stuff down on the sink counter. After splashing some cold water on my face, I considered my possible next steps. My mother was at work, so I couldn’t ask her to come get me, and my father was up in his lab, which meant his phone was in his locker, and he wouldn’t be able to check it until the end of his workday. That left one person with a car that I could call.

June picked up on the second ring. “Hello, Evalin!”

“Hey, June.” I reflexively put my hand up to my free ear, covering it, even though the bathroom was silent. “What are you up to right now?”

“Running errands,” she replied. Indeed, if I listened closely, it did sound like she was in her car, not on a crowded street, but still definitely driving.

“Could you possibly come get me along the way?”

She cut me off before I could even tell her where I was. “I wish I could, Ev, but I’m on a bit of a time crunch!”

I heard someone mumble in the background - a distinctly male voice, and familiar at that. Was that Lukas? I blanched, putting two and two together. Oh my God, were they hooking up in June’s car? Was everyone I knew breaking a law today?

“No worries,” I assured her, my voice breathless and a little shaky. “I’ll find another way home.”

“Okay.” She paused. “Is everything okay?”

No.

“Yes!” I did my best to sound bright and chipper, but I didn’t think for one second that June was fooled. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

With that, I hung up. It looked like I was stuck here, and at the very least, I was not going to spend the rest of my day in the bathroom. So I picked up my purse, and made my way to the dining hall, purchased a cup of coffee, and carried it back to the biology building, where I spent a few hours playing solitaire. Anything to talk my mind off what Professor Proctor had told me.

It occurred to me that I didn’t have to give her the time to blackmail me. I could report her for conspiring with the rebels right now, and have her arrested. The only issue was, I had no proof. It was her word against mine, and I wasn’t naive enough to think that anyone would believe me over a world renowned researcher and scientist.

My phone was on it’s last two percent when my father finally emerged from the hallway. He frowned as his eyes darted from me to the three empty coffee cups that were now stacked behind me. Hey, walking to the dining hall was exercise, right?

“Done so soon?” His tone was skeptical, and he narrowed his eyes at me.

“Yeah, she got a call from a publisher of one science magazine or another, asking her if they could interview her about her latest study.” I shrugged nonchalantly. It was a good thing that I had had the better part of a day to come up with a believable lie. “How was your day?”

“Less hectic than I thought it would be.”

I stood up then, following him out the door and through the parking lot, to his car. He was silent up until we were in his car, when he asked, “Was it good to see her before you leave?”

“Yeah,” I lied, leaving it at that. Luckily, my father didn’t press me for more details. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel at every stoplight, humming along to an old song playing on the radio. No matter how much any of us protested, he refused to change the station in his car to anything other than “Classic Hits of the early 2000s.” He was insistent that it was the only music that would ever play in his car. If we wanted our own music, we were to bring something else to listen to. Too bad my phone was dead.

My father pulled into our driveway at a snail’s pace, each motion he made deliberate yet relaxed. He turned the keys, shutting the car off, still humming to that stupid song that played at least twice every time I rode with him to work - once in the morning, once in the evening.

I was over it. I wanted nothing more than to eat dinner, shower, and curl up in my bed. I was all but packed, seeing as we didn’t need to bring many personal items with us, since our wardrobe and essentials would be provided for us at the palace. All I needed to do was get through the rest of today, and then tomorrow, I would be on a plane, and with any luck, I would never have to see Professor Proctor ever again.

My father practically raced to the door. I trailed behind him, narrowing my eyes at him as he watched me slowly trudge up the porch steps, his gaze expectant. He waited until I was right behind him before he slowly began to open the door, which creaked slowly on its hinges. From what I could see, the inside of our house was dark, which was odd, considering my mother’s car was definitely in the driveway.

Once his hand was inside, my father flung the door open the rest of the way, and I stepped inside, blinking twice as the lights flashed on around me, and a wall of people jumped into my line of sight. The word, “Surprise!” was yelled in various pitches and intonations, jarring me almost as much as the sudden change in brightness did. I dropped my purse as I took in the sight in front of me. My entire family - my father’s parents included - along with June and Lukas stood in the living room, partially obscured by the staircase, wearing party hats and holding noise makers. Above the couch was a banner that read, “We’ll Miss You, Evalin!” in big red block letters.

I forced myself to smile, and then I forced myself to hug everyone, and act like this was the best present I had ever received. “I knew you’d love it,” Lydia squealed. “A going away surprise party just seemed perfect!” When our brothers were out of an earshot, she whispered, “I released the ants, too!”

I was quite sure an ant infestation was the last thing I needed at this point in time, but I assured her that it was the highlight of my day, which was the truth, though the bar was quite low. After her, it was my grandparents, who were so pleased with how much my Swendish had improved since I had last seen them around Christmas time. I informed them that I had been furthering my study of the language in order to help me stand out during the Selection, and they beamed.

The rest of the night was much the same. It wasn’t until the wee hours of the morning that our company started trickling out. First it was June, lazily waving goodnight as she made her way to her own home nextdoor. Then it was my brothers and Lydia, whose departures were punctured with screaming and laughter as all four made it to their rooms, finally. Then my father decided it was high time to drive his parents back to the hotel they were staying in, though they promised they would see me again at the official send off ceremony the next day. My mother drifted off upstairs, saying she needed to deal with whatever mess had been made. I didn’t want to imagine what her face would look like when she found out her daughters had collected and released ants into her sons’ room.

That left just me and Lukas, seated on the couch downstairs, me with a glass of water, and him with an untouched slice of cake.

Now was as good a time as any, I decided. Today could not possibly get any worse.

“I heard you in the car with June, today.”

Color rushed to his cheeks as he placed his plate on the coffee table. “I went with her to pick up your grandparents from the hotel.” I raised an eyebrow at him, and he added, “She asked me to come with her since I know a little Swendish.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.” He narrowed his eyes right back at me. “You sounded kind of upset on the phone. What happened?”

I just shook my head. “You would not believe the conversation I had with Professor Proctor today.”

“Oh, good.” His eyes lit up, his lips starting to tug upwards in a smile, and his speech animated. “She filled you in on everything, then? It’s great that you’re continuing to work with her.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I never said that.”

His face went pale at that, and he leaned forward, towards me. “What do you mean?”

“I told her no, Lukas.” It was an effort not to ball my hands into fists in my lap. “You’re working with her?”

He shook his head, and then ran his hand through his hair. “Evalin, why -”

It was all the answer I needed.

“Get out of my house.” I stood, pointing towards the front door. “Now.”

Reluctantly, he got to his feet. “Evalin, listen, you’re being irrational. Can’t you see -”

“Don’t you dare try to call me irrational when you’re the ones committing treason,” I hissed, grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the door. “Get out of my house, and don’t you ever come back.”

My teeth were clenched as I opened the door, practically shoving him into the night air. As he stumbled out onto the porch, my father rounded the corner of our driveway in his car, his headlights like a beacon in the night.

“Evalin,” Lukas tried again.

I’d had enough. I pushed him towards the porch steps as hard as I could. He stumbled back a foot as I reiterated, “I said leave!”

Finally, he took the hint, and began walking across the lawn, turning right when he hit the street. To my left, my father stepped out of his car, locking it as he came to stand beside me on the porch. “I never liked him,” was all he said as he turned around, opening the front door and holding it for me.

It was a sleepless night after that. Between the fight with Proctor, and then the fight with Lukas, I had a lot to think about. My brain wouldn’t shut off, no matter how much I tried to drown out the sound of my thoughts with the sounds of the crickets outside. By the time light started filtering through the window again, I had managed to sleep for maybe half an hour, if that.

There was not enough coffee in the world to get me through this day. The morning was a blur of my mother fixing my hair and applying makeup to my face, Lydia zipping up the dress the capital officials had instructed me to wear, and my father, handing me cup after cup of coffee until I couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes without having to use the restroom. After that, we were out the door, and off to the town square, where the mayor was waiting on a stage in front of a crowd of people.

I had to give the crowd credit - some of the signs were kind of creative. Even June was there, holding one that read, “Evalin? More like Eva-WIN!” I cracked a smile at that, but it faded as I thought back to the night before. I wasn’t going to get the chance to tell her about Lukas. Shit.

Speak of the devil. There he was, dressed in a button up shirt and dress slacks, standing at the side of none other than Professor Proctor herself. A bold move, on their part. I refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing that I had seen them. Instead, I adopted the broadest smile I could manage, and plastered it on my face as the mayor droned on about my merits as a candidate for the princes heart, and what a great service I was doing for my province.

Once he had wrapped up, it was time to say goodbye to my family. My brothers were first, practically crushing me with the combined force of their hugs, and assuring me that they would get payback for the ants. I only laughed, challenging that I would love to see how they planned to do that from the other side of the country.

Then it was my grandparents, who gave me quick well-wishes in Swendish, before stepping aside to let Lydia through. Lydia gave me a quick hug, both her and my mother offering words of encouragement.

The last one left was my father. Steeling myself for what I knew I had to do, I wrapped my arms around his neck, closing my eyes as I inhaled the scent of coffee and hazelnut for one last time. Then, discreetly, I raised my head a bit, and whispered into his ear, “Proctor knows what’s in the attic, and I think I made her very angry yesterday.”

My father, to his credit, didn’t so much as flinch at the news. His face remained stoic, though he did offer me a nearly imperceptible nod, the only sign that he had heard what I said.

With that done, I was ushered into a limo, where I sat for the next two hours, until it arrived at the airport. I had wanted to sleep in the limo, but the caffeine in my system had left me too jittery and alert to do so. Maybe that was for the better, though. I didn’t want to accidentally fall asleep on the plane, in front of the other Selected girls.

One of them was already on the plane when I boarded. I ran through my memory, trying desperately to place her face to one of the names I had memorized. No luck. I was drawing a blank.

I offered her a smile as I made my way down the aisle. “Hi, I’m Evalin!”

She matched my smile with one of her own. “Hi Evalin! I’m Indie!”

Indie. Indiana? The film director from Clermont? I struggled to remember what else Lydia had told me about her, but it wasn’t coming through. God, I was so tired.

I took a seat across the aisle from her, keeping my smile in place. “It’s nice to meet you! You’re from Clermont, right?”

“Yes, I am! And you’re from -” she paused, smiling sheepishly, “-remind me again?”

“Carolina.” I smoothed out my skirt. At least I wasn’t alone in the not-remembering-information boat at the moment. “You’re a movie director, right?”

Her smile was nothing but kind as she replied. “I am. What is your profession?”

I inhaled slightly before answering. “I’m still in college, but I’m studying biology.”

For now.

“Oh wow, that’s really cool. I could never do science.”

“Thanks,” I replied with a slightly nervous laugh. “It’s second nature for me, really. I grew up around it. I think it’s really cool, what you do, though! I’ve never had that kind of artistic vision!”

“Aw, thank you. It’s the only thing I could ever do, and I’m glad. I truly love it. The profession saved me, in a way.”

“That’s amazing!” I couldn’t help but smile at that. Indie and I weren’t so different when it came down to it. What she felt for directing was exactly what I had felt, still felt, for biology. “That kind of passion is very admirable!”

Once again, she matched my smile. “We are still waiting on two more, right? The plane is supposed to leave soon.”

“I think so.” I frowned, looking over my shoulder, out the window. Missing the plane would set a sour tone for the rest of the Selection, that was for sure. As I craned my neck, trying to get a better view, I caught side of a girl with dark hair was walking through the parking lot. “Looks like one is coming now!”

Sure enough, as soon as the words popped out of my mouth, one girl boarded the plane, followed by a second girl, who already had headphones in. The first girl popped into the plane like a ball of pure sunshine, looking over her shoulder at the plane staircase. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, breathlessly, “My parents kept saying goodbye!” She turned back to us then, her eyes flickering over each of our faces in turn. “Idalia Moretti,” she said by way of introduction, plopping down in an empty seat to my right.

The fourth girl took up a seat towards the front of the plane, not so much as glancing back at us. Instead, she turned to face the window, keeping her headphones in.

“What about you guys?” Idalia’s voice drew my attention back towards my right side.

I offered her the same smile I had given Indie earlier. “Evalin Berg. It’s nice to meet you!”

“Oh,” Indie began, grinning like mad at Idalia. I had to admit, the girl’s energy was infectious, and she was practically bursting at the seams with it. “Hi, I’m Indie! Are you guys excited?”

With everyone on board, the plane began to take off. It wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be to say my goodbyes to Carolina, though I did still have my worries. Would Proctor report my father, out of spite for me? Would Lukas? What was even in my attic that was so illicit? It’s not like my father could just sneak up there willy-nilly. The attic door was a drop-down from the ceiling on the second floor, kind of like a reverse trap door, with a ladder that unfolded out once the door was open. The hinges were so rusted and creaky that half the neighborhood would know that someone was going into our attic before they ever set foot in it.

I turned my attention back to the matter at hand. “Very,” I answered. “A little nervous, too, though. What about you?”

“It should be an interesting day,” Idalia offered. “Tomorrow is when I’ll be nervous. Or, I guess whenever we meet the prince.”

“I’m definitely a little of both excited and nervous,” Indie agreed. “But you’re right. Tomorrow is when things get really real.”

They were right. I needed to focus. “True. Today is just makeovers and getting settled in, right?” I winced at my own unawareness of what I had gotten myself into. I cursed the stupid fights keeping me awake all damn night, and for making me forget what I really needed to do. “Sorry, this whole thing has been a bit of a whirlwind. It’s kind of hard to keep track of all the details.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Indie answered. “I’m sure there will be people telling us what to do, and where to go. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“It’s kind of weird, being thrown into the spotlight like this! Do any of you know any of the other girls? I’ve only gotten tidbits of information that my sister has dug up.” A half lie. Lydia had dug up a good deal of information, I just couldn’t recall any of it.

“I know one of the girls,” Indie admitted. “Emily. She’s acted in a few of my movies. I know some of the other actors just from industry talk, and stuff.”

“Yeah!” Idalia took over the conversation. “I just know the details because I have a friend obsessed with this stuff. She sent me a PowerPoint of, ‘The Most Important Things to Know,’ on everything and everyone.”

Indie’s eyes went wide and her smile grew. “A PowerPoint? That’s iconic!”

“Oh wow!” I laughed, but it came out a good deal more nervous than I had intended it to. “Dare I ask what it said about us?”

“Oh, Evalin,” Indie reprimanded with a shake of her head, “never read the reviews.”

I blushed, but Idalia only smiled as she forged onwards. “She is iconic like that! She liked your last movie, by the way. It was in her PowerPoint.”

“Oh, really? That’s sweet!”

So much for not reading the reviews.

A joke. I should crack a joke. “Ah, sorry! I’m used to my work being peer reviewed.”

I was the only one who laughed at my joke. I should not have cracked a joke.

As if it took her a second to catch on, Idalia let out a small chuckle. “I’m pretty sure your slide just said, ‘bio smart but I have no idea what any of her work says.’”

“Ah,” I replied, feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks once again. I should have seen that one coming from a mile away. “I haven’t really done anything of note. I held a research position under my genetics professor last semester, but it was mostly just me using a microscope.” It felt weird to talk about it now, after everything that had happened yesterday. I could only imagine these girls’ reactions if I had told them the full story.

“That sounds way more intelligent than anything I’ve done, so,” Indie trailed off for a second. “Kudos to you.”

I let out another nervous laugh, fidgeting with my hands in my lap. Time to change the subject. “What movies have you directed?”

Indie seemed to consider it for a moment, as if she had to pick between a large sum of movies when saying her next sentence. “A few,” she settled on, finally. “Some of them you might know are Lady Bird and Little Women. I’ve also done The Greatest Showman, but I also direct episodes of TV sometimes.”

“Oh, I loved Little Women,” I gushed immediately. “That and Pride and Prejudice are the two movies my sister insists we watch whenever we have a family movie night!”

She grinned at that. “Pride and Prejudice is amazing. I’m glad my movie sings along beside it at your family movie nights.”

“Funny,” Idalia interjected, smirking. “My house is usually filled with suggestions of Megamind on family night.”

“Hey, I mean, Megamind,” Indie trailed off again, clearly searching for the words in her head. “Important stuff!”

Interesting. That movie definitely sounded like something Randall would request. That, combined with her big personality, was making me wonder if Idalia and I had more in common than I had initially assumed. “Do you have a lot of siblings, too?”

“No, actually,” Indie answered first, “I don’t have any siblings. You?”

Idalia had an amused smile on her face as she admitted, “I only have a younger brother, but Megamind is usually not his idea.”

“Like I said, Megamind - important stuff,” Indie reiterated.

“Megamind is a classic,” I decided out loud, though I had never seen the movie before. “I have three brothers, and a sister.”

“A big family,” Indie observed. “That must be nice.”

“It is,” I admitted, thinking back to our goodbyes a few hours earlier, “for the most part, but we can get a little antsy. There’s plenty of teasing and pranks to go around! Having time to yourself must be nice, though!”

Idalia nodded knowingly. “I probably tease my brother more than he teases me.”

“Having time to myself can be nice,” Indie agreed, “but at least I get to live vicariously through my characters.” After a brief pause, she picked up the conversation again. “Oh, hey! Idalia, we never asked you what your profession was. You seem like a prankster. It has to be something interesting.”

I wasn’t the only one who got that vibe from Idalia then. The brunette leaned back in her seat, cracking a smile as she responded, “Interesting assumption. I fence sabre.”

My eyes immediately lit up. So that was where I knew her from! “Oh, wow, that’s awesome! I thought your name sounded kind of familiar! You fenced in the Olympics, right? My youngest brother had the games on all day, every day when they were being broadcasted!”

She brightened as well, her smile broadening. “I did. I’m going again next year. Or at least that’s the plan.”

“Ah, congratulations!” Thinking about all of her words had me biting my lip. “Are you nervous about the possibility of this Selection taking over a year? I know the officials said it shouldn’t, since it should display the prince’s decisiveness, but” I sighed, “I have to wonder how into the Selection he’s going to be, what with his engagement to Evie Waldia being cut off so recently.”

It was a fact Gabriel had been bringing up since the beginning. This wasn’t a quest for love, according to him, but a quest for the royal rebound. His argument only got worse once he realized how similar my name was to Evie’s. From that point onwards, he refused to address me as anything other than, “Evie 2.0,” much to my annoyance. I was my own person, not a new Evie, and not a rebound. My brother, of all people, should know that.

Idalia turned her head towards the ceiling. “Time will tell, but I doubt they will say I can’t go. Illea, like everyone else, sends people that can win. If I’m still one of the candidates when the time comes, it would be foolish of them to deny my participation.”

“That’s true,” I conceded. “It must be so cool, being able to compete for your country like that!”

“That really is cool, Idalia,” Indie echoed. “I’m sure you’ll get to go. It’s probably even better press for Illea if they send a Selected.”

I was inclined to agree. “That’s a good point! You’d get to be serving the nation in two ways at once!”

“I guess that could be said,” Idalia conceded, chuckling. “So we’ve got a film director, a bio major, a fencer, and,” she paused, looking at the fourth girl, who had shown no inclination to join in the conversation, “an unknown.”

“Should,” Indie bit her lip, and I tried to remember who the fourth girl on this plane should be. “Should we try to talk to her, or…” She trailed off again, not taking her eyes off the girl.

It hit me then. Shala Lie of Dominica.

“Shala?” I asked. No reply. I frowned and lowered my voice to a whisper, having the vague sense that Shala might still be listening in on our conversation. “Maybe she’s just very nervous.”

“Yeah, probably.” Indie shrugged. “Well, anyway, you girls seem really nice. It’s definitely made me feel a lot better about this whole process.”

“Likewise,” I replied. I had to admit, my smile was less forced this time. “It’s good to know that we’re not in this alone.”

Idalia took control of the conversation again. “I’m sure Prince Arin must be having a similar feeling.”

“Speaking of Prince Arin,” Indie began with a grin, “thoughts?”

I couldn’t help but blush at the thought of the prince. I kind of hated it. What was I, twelve years old? Nonetheless, I had to field my question. “Well, he is quite handsome, don’t you think?”

“He is quite handsome,” Indie echoed. “I’m excited to get to know him. Or, at least I hope I get the chance to know him.”

“Me too. I’d love to be able to talk to him and get to know him.” Admitting this to these girls, these almost strangers, was somehow less embarrassing than admitting it to anyone at home had been. “I’m sure he has lots of interesting stories to tell.”

“Yeah, probably. It’s just crazy that we are going to be living in the palace, of all places,” Indie gushed. “Hanging out with the prince, of all people. It feels like a fever dream!”

“Truly!” I had been saying as much since the letter first came in the mail. “I never imagined that this is where my life would actually take me!” The faint popping in my ears was my first clue, but a quick look out the window only confirmed my suspicions. “It looks like we’re about to land!”

“Yep.” Indie nodded in agreement. “We should keep in touch down there. I think it’ll be nice to have some friendly faces around.”

My smile was my main reply; my words were secondary. “Certainly!”

“I wonder if we’ll be near each other, room-wise,” Idalia chimed in.

Finally, something I could actually remember. “What rooms are you in? I’m in room eighteen.”

“Oh, uh, you know, we might be close to each other. Hold on.” Idalia paused, pulling a piece of paper out of her back pocket. She skimmed it for moment before finishing with, “Yeah, sixteen.” Her brows furrowed, then, as she looked over what I could only imagine must be a map. “Okay, so we’re in the same hall, but you’re right outside the circle of rooms around mine. Not the closest, but still same hall.”

I looked over her shoulder, taking it was was indeed a map, for myself. “Yeah, it looks like we’re diagonally across the from each other.” I smiled at Idalia, then. This could be good. “We should definitely be seeing each other around, then!”

“I’m in room six,” Indie announced, “but we will still see each other around!”

“I’ve heard there’s a woman’s room, and also etiquette lessons,” Idalia admitted.

“True.” My grin was one hundred percent genuine this time. “I’m kind of excited for the etiquette lessons. It’ll be nice to learn something different, for a change.”

“Oh, it’ll be something for sure,” Idalia agreed with an amused grin. “How to be photographed, how to curtsy, maybe which spoon is for the salad as well!”

I laughed at the joke. “I wonder if they’ll make us learn how to walk with books balanced on our heads.”

It was Indie’s turn to laugh now. “That would be funny to see,” she admitted, “but, trust me, that’s not the hard stuff. It’s the learning to talk to the press that’s hard.”

That was where the conversation ended, as the plane touched down and we were escorted down a carpet, through a large crowd of people, and into a limousine. It was silent at that point, and for that I was kind of grateful. I was out of Carolina. I was here, in the capital, possibly about to meet the love of my life, and at that moment, that was all that mattered.

#selectionoc #((sorry this is a long one lol))

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h-styles-babes · 5 years

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Harry Styles Blurb/Request #10

Alright, I searched for like half an hour to try to find the request I got for this prompt, but I couldn’t fine it. But, just know someone requested this off a prompt list several months ago, and I finally got inspiration to write it because I’ve definitely been in a much better place lately. So I really hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think!

WARNING: All the smut. This is basically just 4500 words of kink. You’ve been warned.

32. “You’re acting like this is your first threesome.”

There wasn’t much about uni that Y/N didn’t like. She was the academic type, so she really enjoyed getting to take classes she had interest in and getting to sit and discuss with people who held similar interests, who would participate and lend something insightful to said conversations. She enjoyed the work she got to do in her major, shadowing people in the field and getting to talk to her professors, who usually were full of amazing information and resources. She loved the freedom it allowed her to make her own decisions in her day to day life and for her long-term goals. She loved it, truly.

But of the few things she didn’t like about uni—including the food at the dining hall and the obnoxious frat parties—she especially disliked group projects.

See, Y/N was more of a ‘do it herself’ kind of girl. She worked well on her own because she was able to control the procedure and the outcome. She was able to do what she thought was best without input from anyone else. She’d always lived by the saying “If you want something done right, do it yourself,” because she’d found in her time at school, that the saying rang true with herself. She always tended to be the person that cared the most and put in the most effort whenever she was put in a group, so why bother with group members when she could accomplish the same thing—sometimes better—all alone?

So, imagine her displeasure when she’d walked into her 10 am Monday class to a stack of papers describing a group project that would last the remainder of the semester. She groaned audibly when she read the first line of the description, realising she’d be working with two other people who would be randomly chosen by her professor. Her prof chuckled at her, knowing her distaste for group work from years of having her in classes. It was her last year of uni, so she was taking a relatively easy class after getting all her more vigourous coursework out of the way early on. The class was open to all years, and she just really hoped she didn’t get paired up with first years. She still had to graduate, after all, and she didn’t want a grade that hinged on this project being dictated by a bunch of eighteen year olds.

“You’ll be fine, promise,” Professor Zimmerman told her, throwing her a wink as she sighed and trudged up to where she was sat toward the center of the room.

It was a smaller class, with only twenty-four students enrolled, so they occupied a regular classroom and not a lecture hall. She usually sat next to an Irish boy named Niall who was in his final year as well, and he was really nice. A bit rowdy sometimes with a jolting laugh, but he was kind and had a lot to offer during discussions, and he actually took the time to talk to Y/N when he saw her around campus. She considered him a friend, and she was really hoping Professor Zimmerman would take pity on her and pair her with Niall, at the very least. She could deal with anyone else as long as she had him in her group.

Niall slid into his seat just a few moments after she did, and he grinned at her. “Think I convinced Zimmerman to put us in a group together,” he told her.

Y/N’s eyes lit up as she looked at him. “You’re serious?” Niall nodded. “Oh god, you’re the best. I was seriously dreading this. Imagine if I got paired with two first years? I would have cried.”

“I know, that’s why I sweet talked ‘im. Now we just gotta wait and see who our third person is.”

They didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Zimmerman started the class by separating everyone into groups. Everyone had at least skimmed the paper already, so they knew what they were in for, so everyone listened intently as he called out names three at a time. Niall and Y/N were part of the fourth group to be called.

“Group Four will be Mr. Horan, Miss Y/L/N, and Mr. Styles.”

Y/N felt her heart seize up at the mention of that name. She hadn’t spoken to him in months, let alone even look his way in this class. She’d nearly forgotten they were even in it together. Her mind had done a pretty good job of purging all unpleasant thoughts from her mind from the previous term. She’d known him and Niall were mates, but they didn't talk much in this class, and she’d never seen Niall out and about with him by his side.

When Zimmerman was done calling out groups and instructing everyone to take the rest of the class time to come up with ideas for the project, the class moved, everyone rearranging themselves to be next to their group mates.

The seat in front of Y/N vacated, and she could see him approaching her and Niall from the corner of her eye. She didn’t dare look up at him; she wasn’t sure what her reaction would be to seeing his face again after letting herself move on from what happened. She busied herself with pulling out a notebook to take notes on for their ideas to avoid having to watch him sit.

“Can’t believe Zimmerman put us all together,” Niall said as Y/N felt the seat in front of her be filled. She smelled him before she even looked at him, that same enticing scent of his much-too-expensive cologne and the spearmint gum he seemed to constantly be chewing. She sort of hated herself for remembering those things about him, but some things were harder to forget than others.

“We’re the oldest ones in the class,” he replied. “Think Zimmerman took pity on us.”

Y/N’s jaw clenched as she heard his voice again, the same slow drawl of his words and they way his accent curled around his vowels. She hated that her heart jumped at the sound. Traitor.

“Good to see yeh again, Y/N,” he said, dipping his head to try to catch her eye from where they were focused on the paper on her desk.

“Harry,” she greeted, trying her best to sound casual. She busied herself with titling the paper. Anything to keep her from having to face him.

“Somethin’ wrong?” he asked, sounding sincere about his inquiry, but YN could sense the smugness in his words. She knew him. He wasn’t malicious and he didn’t ever intend to be mean, but he was a person who liked to tease, and he had sufficient ammo against her. It was something she’d just have to deal with, she supposed. For the rest of the term, at least.

“No, just not really fond of group projects. Work better by myself.”

She could see Niall nod at her sympathetically from beside her, opening his mouth to say something, but Harry beat him to it.

“You’re actin’ like this is your first threesome,” he said, doing that thing again where it sounded innocent, but when Y/N’s eyes finally flashed to his, she could see everything.

He knew what that meant. She could see in his eyes that he was remembering. The smirk on his face confirmed it.

She could see it all in the brightness of his eyes. She saw herself, a mouth on her breast, a head between her legs, hands roaming heated skin. The sounds of skin slipping and smacking, mouths gasping and groaning. The sensation of hair being pulled, nails scratching down backs, marks swelling over smooth skin. Thoughts she’d pushed in the depths of her mind for months came flooding to the surface, causing her to audibly gasp.

Niall must have thought she was affronted by the wording, because he reprimanded his friend with a squawk of his name. “Coulda worded that better, mate. Not everyone’s a sexual deviant like you.”

The way that Harry looked at Y/N assured her that not everyone was a sexual deviant like him, but he knew from experience that Y/N certainly was. Niall didn’t know that, though. No one knew aside from Harry and the other random woman that had been there with them that evening. People always joked that it was the quiet ones you had to watch out for, but no one ever really considered it in real life. No one would ever venture to guess that Y/N was the way she was, due to her bookish qualities and quiet demeanour. Harry saw through it though, even in the beginning. He saw her, and that terrified her.

“She knows what I meant,” Harry shrugged off, effectively dismissing the tense atmosphere that had descended upon them.

The trio was able to get through the rest of the class without any further weirdness, and they were actually able to come up with a solid idea and plan for their project. It required them spending quite a bit of time together over the next several weeks, but Y/N had to deal with it in order to get a good grade in the class. She just wanted to graduate, so she would do what she had to achieve that.

Y/N spent some time in the library to do some research for their project. She’d been looking into something online and realised the library had the original text in stock, so she went off looking for it. She didn’t realise when she began her search that it was three stories up in the very back of the building, where the lights were dim and no one except for the librarian ever ventured. The spines of the books looked like they hadn’t been touched in at least a decade, and she was afraid her allergies were going to start acting up with all the stuff lingering in the air.

She finally reached the section where the online catalog had said the book would, be, so she started looking more closely at the spines. The author’s name started with a C, and she was nearly in the B’s, so she knew she was headed in the right direction. The only problem was that she soon realised that the author she was looking for was all the way on the second to the top shelf, and there was no way she’d be able to reach it, even on her tip toes. She huffed and looked around to see if there was a stool nearby. When she could see that there wasn’t, she rolled her eyes and readied herself to make a bit of an ascent up the bookshelves.

She successfully got both feet up on the second shelf from the bottom, but when she extended her hand up, the book was still just out of her reach. She was able to touch the spine, but there was no way she was getting a good enough grip on it to pull it out from the books it was wedged between.

A sound at the end of the aisle startled her and made her lose her balance. She was incredibly afraid she was going to fall back and crack her head open on the set of shelves behind her, and she was preparing herself for the impact, eyes closed and body rigid to try to protect herself.

However, the impact never came, and instead there were arms around her waist, steadying her, and a body pressed flush against her own, pressing her front against the bookshelf she was previously stood on.

“Yeh’re a clumsy one, aren’t yeh?”

Y/N couldn’t help the shiver that ran down her spine at the hoarse words muttered close to her ear. His breath fanned over her neck, raising goosebumps across the exposed flesh.

“You startled me, that’s all,” she brushed off.

She really wished to be rid of his touch, but she really had no where to go between all her obstacles. He wasn’t making any move to release her, and she wasn't about to forcefully push him off of her for fear of making a scene. Not that there was anyone to witness it. And it wasn’t altogether unpleasant, being in his arms again. She actually quiet liked the warmth his body provided in this dreary section of the library, and she couldn’t deny that having him pressed against her was the most contact she’d had with a man since the last time they’d been together. However, she wasn’t supposed to like it, and her brain was telling her to get him away. Her heart and body protested that decision readily.

“Didn’t mean to, pet,” he told her. He made no move to step away or release her, and her heart hammered in her chest. Him being so close brought up too many memories.

“Don’t call me that,” she gasped. She hadn’t heard the term of endearment in months, and it sparked something in her that was entirely too pleasant for their current situation.

“Why not?” he whispered, his nose drawing gently along the column of her neck. He grinned when she swallowed harshly. “Remember yeh were fond of the name. Or do yeh prefer ‘kitten’? Yeh seemed to really like that one.”

“Harry…” she rasped, her entire body tingling with the memories. Her breathing was shallow and laboured. She felt like she needed to compose herself, but he wasn’t giving her the opportunity to. And if she was being honest with herself, she was enjoying this little scene too much to want to break the spell they were under.

“Or are those too cute for yeh?” he mumbled, nipping at her ear. “Seem to recall yeh bein’ particularly responsive to ‘little slut.’” Harry jutted his hips forward into hers, and Y/N whimpered at the feel of his hard cock pressed against her arse. Obviously he was just as worked up as she was, and she felt some solace in that.

“Fuckin’…” she gritted out, her hands braced against the cool wooden shelves to give her leverage to push back against him. “Goddammit, Harry.”

Harry’s hands trailed down from his grip on her waist to her hips, and his right kept going, tracing lightly against the button of her jeans. His fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt to tease the skin there, feeling her muscles contract against his ministrations.

“Gonna let me fuck yeh again?” he asked, his own breathing harsh to match hers. “Gonna let me play with that pretty little cunt? No one would know. We’re all alone up here.”

His fingers made their way into her jeans and under her knickers, trailing down to the small patch of hair he knew he’d find. Y/N pressed her arse back into him further, trying to give him more room to work, though her jeans were tight and offered limited space. She knew she wouldn’t get any real relief unless they came off.

“Please, Harry,” she whimpered, one hand coming down to grip at his forearm to steady herself.

“Please what, darling?” His lips trailed down her neck and he sunk his teeth into the junction at her shoulder.

“Please fuck me.”

That was all Harry had to hear. He’d been waiting for this for a long time. Months. Since the last time he’d had her. He’d shared her that night, with another beautiful girl who had much more interest in Y/N than she did in him. He wasn’t mad, though. Y/N deserved the extra attention. But Harry was drawn to her in a way that refused to let him allow that be the only time he had her. There was no one else that compared to her, and apart from her looks, he found her fascinating. Sure she was gorgeous, but the dichotomy of her entire being astounded him. How someone could be so studious and innocent and completely unassuming on the outside but dark and enamouring and alluring on the inside. Not saying a person couldn’t be both, but it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. And he was definitely into it.

Harry flicked open the button on her jeans and then slid open the zipper. He used both hands to push the material over her hips and to her knees, just enough so he could have access to her. He pulled her hips out away from the wall before undoing his own jeans and pulling his pants down to release his aching cock. The skin was drawn tight and he was already leaking from the tip, so he hoped like hell that she was just as ready as he was. He wasn’t sure if he could take it slow, and they were sort of on a time crunch anyway. While this area of the library was rarely visited and secluded, it would be just their luck if someone wandered this way.

Harry took a moment to admire the light purple lace band of her knickers before dragging his hand across her center, pressing gently into where he knew her sensitive little clit hid. From what he recalled, she was particularly reactive and she didn’t disappoint, gasping and turning her head into her bicep to muffle her moan.

Tugging her panties to the side, Harry could see her already glistening even in the dim overhead lights. He dragged two fingers through her folds, humming appreciatively when they came away slick.

“Already drippin’ for me, kitten? Absolutely fuckin’ drenched,” he muttered before sticking his fingers in his mouth. He swore his eyes rolled back in his head at the taste of her, heady and rich, with just a little bit of tang. As perfect as he remembered.

“Harry…” she pleaded, her voice breaking. Her hips wiggled in her impatience. He’d gotten her all worked up and now he was taking too long. She wasn’t in the mood for teasing or building it up. She wanted him now, and she wanted him fast. She’d been too long without his perfect cock inside of her, and she wasn’t a patient woman when it came to these things.

“Not gonna be gentle,” he warned her, taking hold of the base of his cock to guide to her entrance. He thanked everything he could bring to mind that she was so wet already. Made this whole thing move along a lot faster.

“Wouldn’t want you to be,” she assured him. She reached one hand back to grasp at his hip, urging him toward her. “Now just fuck me.”

With a smirk on his face, Harry slid into her in one long thrust, but the tilt fled from his lips as soon as her smooth, warm, tight walls surrounded him. He grunted and leaned forward to bite at her shoulder, muffling his sound.

Y/N had both hands back on the shelves, supporting herself from the force of his movements. She buried her mouth back in her arm to stifle her groan. God, she’d missed the stretch of him. Harry was the largest she’d ever had, both in length and girth, and it wasn’t exactly an easy fit. But if was such a delicious stretch and he filled her up perfectly that she was nearly drunk with the sensation the moment he entered her.

“Hold on tight,” Harry warned her before starting up an unrelenting pace.

They were both glad for the seclusion of their place in the building, because they couldn’t maintain relative silence even if they wanted to. Even with their methods, their heavy breathing and the slapping of their skin together would have been enough to assure everyone in hearing range of exactly what they were doing. As it was, Harry and Y/N weren’t very good and quieting themselves, either. Their moans and whimpers frequently took on a nearly full volume, and Harry even had to move one hand over Y/N’s mouth, his two first fingers slipping in, in order to keep her quiet.

She sucked greedily on the digits, wishing and imagining that it was Harry’s cock in her mouth instead, which just made her moan more. She sincerely hoped he was willing to take this somewhere more private afterward, because there was a lot she’d like to do that they definitely weren’t going to get done there.

“Such a fuckin’ slut for it, aren’t yeh?” he grunted into her ear. “Can feel yeh absolutely soakin’ my cock. Are yeh a bit of an exhibitionist, pet? Hopin’ someone will hear yeh gettin’ yeh’re cunt pounded. Wishin’ they’d hear my name when yeh moan it out. Get off to this shit, hmm?”

Y/N couldn’t help but nod at his assessment. He knew she liked the thought of fucking in a public space; of the risk of getting caught. It thrilled her and caused her walls to clench. Harry hissed.

“So fuckin’ tight, honey. Gonna make me cum in your pretty little cunt.” He shifted her hips slightly, causing him to brush against a new spot. She cried out above the muzzle of his fingers. “Right there? Did I find your button? Gonna squirt all over me like yeh did last time?”

She hadn’t forgotten about that. How could she, even with her successful attempts at brushing her memory of that night away? It was the first time she’d ever cum like that. Harry and been pounding into her at a similar angle to the one he was at now, and her lips were curled around the other girl’s clit when she’d felt that strange sensation. She’d been alarmed at first, afraid something horrible was going to happen, but when she’d protested to Harry, he’d assured her it was okay. He urged her to let her body relax, and when she did, liquid had come gushing out of her unlike she’d ever experienced before. Both Harry and the other girl had looked at her in shocked amazement before sharing excited laughs and continuing on with their playing. Y/N had brushed it aside at the moment, but expressed her embarrassment afterward. Harry had promised her it was normal and told her it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen, which made her feel much better about it.

So, she was familiar with the sensation now. She could feel it building like a balloon deep inside her, the pressure forcing Harry to work harder through it. His thrusts slowed some, but they kept the same force, willing her to explode all over the both of them.

“Come on, kitten. Gonna make us walk out of here with your cum all over us. Give it to me,” he demanded, his voice deeper than she’d ever heard it. She felt the shudder in his thrusts and knew he was close as well. She just needed a little bit more and she’d fall over the edge with him.

“Harder,” she choked out around his fingers. Her breath was held in her chest, the overwhelming feeling of her approaching orgasm rendering her unable to expel any air. “Fuck me harder.”

Harry growled and stood up on his toes to get a better angle to drive down. He allowed the weight of his body and the motion he’d already set be that last bit of force she needed to finally burst. And he was not disappointed with the results.

He cut off her building scream with his hand to her throat, squeezing just hard enough to temper the sound. He thrust through the cascade of cum her body released, all over his cock and thighs and her own as well. Luckily, their clothes seemed to be catching most of the liquid and not dripping all over the floor, but Harry wasn’t bothered by it much. His mind was much more focused an the trembling of her body as she came and his own release rushing through him.

He buried his face in her neck, giving one last ditch effort to keep quiet. He came until his vision turned white, overstimulated by the continuing contractions of her walls. He didn’t even remember when he stilled, but when he seemed to regain consciousness, they were both leaned against the shelves, breathing heavily, slick with all sorts of bodily fluids. Harry’s hair was sticking to his forehead and he could see where tendrils of hers was sticking to her neck. They reeked of sex, but he couldn’t care less. He was too fucked out to care about anything aside from getting her back to his flat so they could wind down together and maybe go for round two. And three.

“Yeh alright?” he asked when their breathing finally evened. He pulled out of her as gingerly as possible, but he still noticed when she flinched a little. He used the leg of his underwear to clean himself up as best as possible before tucking himself back away and doing up his jeans.

Y/N righted her own bottoms as she nodded. “Yeah, I’m great.” There was a dazed tone to her voice, and Harry saw the brightness of her skin and the glossiness of her eyes when she turned to look at him. He realised he’d gone the entire time without looking at her face, and he regretted it. However, he convinced himself it was just something he’d have to rectify once they got back to his. He loved the face she made when she orgasmed.

“Still hate me?” Harry asked, trying to keep up his cocky, sarcastic front, but it was a genuine question.

Ever since their night together, Y/N had avoided him like the plague for reasons unbeknownst to him. He wasn’t sure what he did wrong, since it had seemed like their night together had gone amazingly, especially considering they’d stayed together in the hotel room for the night after the other woman left, talking about everything and nothing into the wee hours of the morning. But when he’d woken up a few hours after falling asleep with her in his arms, she’d been gone. And ever since then, she’d walked around campus like she couldn’t even see Harry, let alone even knew him. It hurt, if he was being honest, but he’d allowed her the space she obviously wanted while pining from afar. Even though they’d had sex together—rather kinky sex—first, he really did like her. Wanted to get to know her better and ask her out. She’d never allowed him the opportunity, though.

She looked up at him through her lashes, her brow furrowing adorably. “I never hated you, Harry. Why would yeh think that?”

“Kinda acted like I didn’t exist after the last time,” he told her, pointing out the obvious.

Y/N bit at her lip in nervousness before figuring it was best if she just came out with it. “I wasn’t doing that because I hated you. I was just embarrassed. What normal person has a threesome with a guy within a few weeks of knowing him?”

Harry scoffed with a playful roll of his eyes. “Normal’s boring and overrated. Nothin’ to be embarrassed about. Wouldn’t have fucked yeh if I didn’t like yeh, and I definitely wasn’t judgin’ yeh for it, considerin’ I was part of it, too.”

“I know,” she nodded, biting that damn lip again. Was going to drive him crazy. “It was just sorta out of character for me. Well, my more public character, I suppose.” She shrugged. “Was afraid of someone I knew in real life knowin’ my secret.”

Harry brushed her hair over her shoulder and tucked a bit of it behind her ear, flashing her a soft smile. “Your character is whatever yeh make it. Perfectly okay to be all shy and quiet and studious at school and with your friends and be a complete freak in private with the people you share sex with.” His grin turned mischievous. “Quite like being one of the few that get to see both.”

“Yeah?” she asked, looking at him expectantly.

“Yeah,” he nodded. He hesitantly reached out to grab ahold of her hand, sighing a silent breath of relief when she wrapped her fingers around his palm instead of pulling away. “Now, I would really like it if we could get some coffee or tea and get to know each other better. Maybe get some dinner sometime. Go to a movie.”

Y/N grinned at him wryly. “Are you trying to date me, Harry Styles?”

He shot her a deadpan look. “Might’ve gotten to it earlier if yeh hadn’t run away. Been pinin’ like a bloody schoolboy for months now.”

She cooed at him. “You’re adorable.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. So are we gettin’ coffee or not?”

The smile she sent his way then was bright and full of sunshine. Such a contrast to the girl who’d been asking him to fuck her harder just a few minutes before. He loved it.

“That sounds amazing.”

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles request #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #Smutty smut smut

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drmedicsgamesurgery · 4 years

Text

Danganronpa Togami Volume 3 Part 6 (Summary)

Time for more good weirdness.

Thanks to @enoshima-pyon @shockersalvage @jinjojess @hopeymchope for helping out!

CHAPTER 13- The Ascension of K

Karel Čapek [0] wrote, "I don't need any masters, I know what I should do."

Franz Kafka [1] wrote, "‘What’s happened to me,’ he thought. It was no dream."

Milan Kundera [2] wrote, "Kafka learned to kill Kafka because of his insistence on deciphering."

Even with losing Borges, I can still quote the words of the Czech writers. As for why, well, that was a good thing to ask K.

> Go to the city

> Climb the mountain

Shinobu decides to climb the mountain where the sniper is supposed to be. It’s dangerous, but she believes that it’s not as dangerous as wandering around in the city while being wanted.

She starts climbing the mountain, but with only one eye, it's difficult to estimate the distance between her and the trees so she stumbled upon them several times.

Suddenly she find an open space right before her. There was an old log cabin, which looked like a restaurant, with tables and open air seating. A sign said “Temporarily closed for business”.

An old man stood there. Although it was summer, the old man wore a black hat and a black coat. It might be a bit redundant to say that he was a Westerner. From his sharp blue eyes, she couldn't see anything like sociality and friendliness.

"Have you gotten rid of Borges?" the old man said. "Follow me, Shinobu Togami."

She follows the old man to his house on the mountain. He hangs his coat and his hat on the coat rack and boils the kettle. Shinobu notes that the place has a low ceiling but the door is big enough not to be claustrophobic, and she sits at a table.

As I watched his movements with the corner of my eye, I watched the tableware placed on the homemade bar and the woodworking tools piled near the doorway. A picture hanging on the wall came into my eyes.

It was a weird painting.

A small animal that looked like a rat with a scary nose, where its nose supported its body like a leg. There was a certain factor in the painting that made it sinister, which caused my interest and anxiety. [3]

The old man, who has beautiful silver hair, puts two cups of coffee on a table and asks Shinobu to sit down and drink. Then he hands her an eyepatch saying her face looks scary with a hole in it.

"I have already understood the situation. That fake’s ‘World Domination Proclamation', even if I don't want to hear it, has been ringing in my ears. Others call me K."

"K?"

"Thirteenth in Latin, the thirteenth in poker."

“Speaking of K, that is the protagonist of “A Hunger Artist”, right?” [4]

K says that is incorrect and is the name of the protagonist from various other stories. Shinobu apologies, but admits to herself she didn’t come across as genuine.

"Forget it, as long as you say it is white, then black can also turn white," the old man who claimed to be called K snorted. "The initial letter of Kafka is also K."

"Are you...?"

"The reason why people call me K is many, but the most common one is KLAMM [5]. In the era of the Czech Republic and the socialist countries, that was what everyone was secretly calling the official of the Secretariat."

"I don't know Czech at all."

"It means 'fraud'."

Shinobu shows him the piece of paper that Hiroyuki gave her. She says that it’s too much of a coincidence that she met K right after getting the note, so she asks who is he.

"So, please, tell me. Who are you? Why do you know me?" asks Shinobu.

"Who are you? If you want to use that question to figure out my career and position, then it is still a little troubling to answer you. If you want to talk about the why, it is because I am an alumnus of Hope’s Peak Academy. I participated in the development of the Bible Plan. That project and later in the participation in the development of Borges with the Togami Family." says K.

When Shinobu brings up the Hasegawa Institute and if he has any relation to the Ketouin Conglomerate, K has no idea what she’s talking about. K goes on to talk about an interview with a writer who was questioned as to why he didn’t go into detail about a character’s past or appearance. His response?

“'You dare to ask this in front of Kafka? What color is the character's hair, and whether this person's father has money, you should decide it yourself!'"

K delves into what is important or not, is dependant one what one’s worldview is, using several books as an example and asks if what she sees as her reality is different.

"Enough."

"Enough what?"

"I understand it, all these things. Please don't say these words. This is the right thing, only..."

"Only the reality I see is different, right?"

I have been vaguely aware of it. And now that I think about it, even though others have pointed this out to me again and again, I pretended not to notice it. In order for me to be me, in order for me to be a secretary, I can't admit it. However, after losing Borges and "Journey Under The Midnight Sun" and my identity...now I have that idea in my heart.

Do I want to admit it?

That Borges, as an irreplaceable right eye, as a vital signpost, that has always been with me...it has been lying to me, in a rather obvious manner.

In this case, I don't have to be so stubborn. I firmly believe that I am not wrong.

K quietly drank coffee for a while, before suddenly the wrinkles in his eyes trembled and he whispered.

"The cause of this is Borges." he said before continuing. "You use Borges in order to master the situation in this world. It makes the scene you see different from the reality in the eyes of ordinary people."

"I don't understand."

"The writer that I mentioned said that when he translated his work into other languages, he was shocked because the translation was too casual.The French version changed, the English version changed, as for the Spanish version, I heard that the translator didn’t even understand Czech at all. So the question is, how faithful was Borges translation from the original, or to be precise, how shameless was its adaptation of it?”

K explains that he, alongside other graduates, were contacted by Hope’s Peak Academy’s Steering Committee and given an outline of the Bible Plan. After being pressured by the committee, he joined their research team alongside other former Super High School level students who shared similar writing abilities (such the former SHSL Literary Critic, Poet, Writer, Suspense novelist, Children's Literature Writer, Essayist) and was the head of the software department where he collected talent data from the students in the school who had similar abilities. From there, the data is placed into the automatic writing system that was created by the hardware department. Thus, the creation of the Story AI was born.

K then continues on to explain his hand in creating the AI’s method of writing stories program since, as he puts it, it’s like the difference between using AI for novels and chess.

"To let AI play chess, just tell it the rules, let it read the past chess scores. But novels have no rules. If there are no rules, the AI can't write novels. So, as well for 'story data' I also wrote the 'method of writing stories'." says K.

“Don't you let it learn writing skills?” asks Shinobu.

K explains that the meaning of it is different, although it has methods of writing stories, it has many differences in writing technique then just what he fed into the system. He explains what he means by quoting Čapek and Rousseau [6], who all have different styles of writing, logic, techniques and the like. He mentions that Karel Čapek is also a K.

“What you are saying feels a bit complicated.”

“I’ll tell you an analogy. For example, there is such an experiment where a mathematician and a writer live on an uninhabited island. The condition is that the two islands have the same area and have the same problem. They can be escaped the same way. However, at this time, the two people may take completely different actions, and the method of fleeing may be different. Since their occupation is different, there is no common ground for the two people's actions or principles. Thus, as a result, the actions that they take are different."

So, the difference between the actions taken by mathematicians and writers against uninhabited islands serves as the differences in the novel? And that’s the "method of writing stories"? Is that really the case? I doubt very much how much I understand K.

"In any case, the 'Bible Plan' started like this. Then it failed."

"Failed?"

"It takes a lot of time, a lot of money, a lot of manpower, and the story generated by AI is not that great. At least this thing can only be judged after I read it with the team members."

“Why would it fail?”

"Of course it would."

“How can you write a story that anyone can recover hope on first reading?”

"You said it yourself so clearly that I don't know what to say..."

"'A life changing book', there is such a saying. Some books can make people immersed in it, and some books can change one's outlook on life. But I want a book that can have an effect on all humans. To get this effect is simply an idiotic dream. To make readers with different ages, genders, nationalities, and political positions have the same opinion after reading, how can such a book be written?"

"So because humans can't write it, so let AI write it?"

"In fact, the Story AI has done a good job. It responds brilliantly to the requirements of human selfishness. However, the result is terrible. The story AI has written a Bible-like thing... a fake Bible. This is also a matter of course. For now, to say which book is the best book that can bring hope to despairing people, a Bible is certainly the best choice."

"What……"

This is true, that's it.

"The 'Bible Plan' shamelessly carried out the biblical reproduction, which is really boring. This is no different from the shameful behavior of other cults around the world. To transcend the Bible, creativity is indispensable, because if there is no creation, then it cannot be broken. It's at the forefront."

"If you don't have the ability to create, you can't write a story."

Shinobu thinks to what Byakuya had said previously, being similar to this. Using the database to write stories is too limiting as it can only create stories similar to the existing story. The essence of creation is indispensable for a truly new story to be born. The story needs originality, as well as ancient and modern writing technique.

Silence. When I was with K, I had a few coffees from time to time and spent a period of speechless time together. My gaze naturally turned to the painting of the small animal hanging on the wall. The animal that stands with a surprisingly small nose should be a fictional animal, but it has eyes, ears, and legs. If a painter with the essence of creation draws something new, I don't think it will be a creature at all. Creation is such greatness, and it is such a deformity, therefore it must be.

K reckons that even though the Bible Plan was frozen, that the rumoured Despair novel was a product created with the same Bible Plan technique, but it’s difficult for him to tell. It’s possible the Story AI may or may not be involved with the Despair Disease, as well.

“Is there someone who supplements it, like someone other than you?”

"It shouldn't be possible, but I have a hypothesis. If it can make it work, it's just as good as the effect that Borges has on you, or maybe not."

"What's the matter?"

"Don't worry, I’ll explain it one by one. Although the 'Bible Plan' is frozen, as a matter of course, the story AI shows a very intriguing tendency."

"That is……"

“With just one story, it can produce different research ideas from multiple different perspectives.”

“Can you please tell me something more straightforward?”

"Do you know the Mona Lisa?"

"Of course I know it."

“Have you actually seen it?”

"No."

"Since you haven’t actually seen it, how can you say that you know it!"

He seemed to be suddenly angry.

"Because there are textbooks or on TV, I can see it whenever I want..."

"Since there it’s in a textbook, who photographed the Mona Lisa with a camera? Since it is on the TV, who recorded it with video? This is what the story AI can do. Do you understand?"

"I don’t understand."

"Because we are not Da Vinci, it is impossible for us to draw the Mona Lisa in principle. However, we can create the back or the lower body of the Mona Lisa, we can use Mona Lisa's portrait data for use in collage art creation, or writing about the Mona Lisa in a woman's novel. In fact, there are such works of art and books. According to this current statement, it’s secondary creation... Combining or deriving something from that work."

"Secondary creation?" [7]

Suddenly a modern vocabulary emerged, and I was somewhat unprepared.

“The Story AI has become an expert in 'fiction techniques'. Although there are no rules in the novel, there are some things that are customary. It must show the characters, tell the background, and let the plot blend into the historical situation. It must be empty when the scene is converted. Lines, must be numbered, must add a new description, new description texts..."

Shinobu thinks that this premise is too big, which justs makes K more upset that she doesn’t understand. He uses examples of various authors which all come to the main point that while you think these books would be based in realism because they are about real events and real people, but they also have the freedom to blend in things like jokes which never happened at the real event, only added later. He also talks about how many of these realist authors too have a K in their name.

"Hey, although the tangent you are talking about is very interesting, can we get back to the main focus of topic?" Shinobu cuts in.

"This is also the topic, but forget it," K nearly retching said, using his coffee to moisten his throat. "We let the Story AI swallow a lot of data, and as a result, it has the kind of tendency I just stated prior... For a story, it can produce different research ideas from multiple different perspectives... We did an experiment on it. Do you know Metamorphosis?" [8]

"I’ve read it."

K explains that by feeding the story Metamorphosis to the Story AI, that it was able to study that data, and then write many different versions of the story with many different and altered scenarios. It even created stage play and comic book versions as well. Shinobu sounds like it became a light novelist who specializes in Metamorphosis.

"It wasn’t only limited to "Metamorphosis", even if other works of other writers are given to it, it can also be used for secondary creation and writing fake books. We named the story AI “the K2K system” and decided to let it evolve on its own."

"The K2K system." [9]

It seems that the letter K also appears here, two of them even.

"The Bible Plan ran out of funding, but even so we didn’t think failure was important. We were obsessed with the K2K system and even developed up to version 2.3.[9] The K2K system began writing and kept writing, it turned into a writing a machine, a writing robot."

K's words made me feel shocked. I am a writing machine, a word puppet, just a note-taking tool for writing "Journey Under The Midnight Sun". Now, after losing Borges and "Journey Under The Midnight Sun", can I still be so sure of myself?

K continues by saying that the word robot was developed in Czech as forced labour, which was widely known at the time due to Čapek’s writings. He states that propositions like robots gaining the same dignity as humans is dying due to the fact of what the K2K systems can manufacture. Basically, because the K2K system can now go beyond human authors, they will have a sense of crisis in their own dignity as writers. Shinobu says that it would be fairly unbearable if robots were to really take over the artform.

K says "However, this is the reality. In this way, after becoming the perfect pen machine, the K2K system soon triggered an incident. It destroyed a person in the research team."

It created interference, K says.

"��This book changed my life.” One of the people in the group collapsed after seeing it as required."

"Is that person dead?"

"From that point of view, the opposite is true. That person has become a murderer."

“Wait, you just said interference, right."

"Oh."

"So what you are saying is the Story AI... the K2K system can write something that affects human thoughts, but the 'Bible Plan' has not been successful?"

"In the end, it was just interference with an individual. Didn't I just say it, 'This book changed my life', not 'our lives'. The K2K system wrote a story for that person."

"Does the K2K system have the will to do this kind of thing?"

"The K2K system has no will. Even if there is no will, AI can get a car to a destination, and you can talk to AI on the phone. Now in schools, AI has become the secretary of most people. It can recommend things to you, a book you'd like, help you pick the hotel you want to stay in, and tell you the symptoms of your sickness. It can also give you the most suitable medicine. The K2K system is no different from that, just that it mechanically makes a 'recommended book for you'. However, its destructive power is enormous, just like recommending "The Sorrows of Young Werther" [10] to a person who is troubled by love."

Not long ago, I couldn't do anything without Borges, but this interpretation made me feel scared. Among the things recommended by AI, if something intense and full of charm has the ability to destroy the human spirit, can I refuse it at that time? No, maybe I have already seen it before I even noticed it.

"Because that person took the data, what kind of story he saw was unknown, but only from the results, that person became a murderer. Nearly half of the research team was killed, and because of this After the storm, Hope’s Peak Academy learned about the existence of the K2K system. After understanding the situation, the steering committee intended to freeze the entire K2K system, and we took it away, because after the data was separated from it, the capacity of a disk was enough to accommodate, the system is always as simple as possible."

"Then there is actually no K2K system in the school, right?"

"Because we are also worried that the steering committee would use it for other purposes. That school was like this before, they can't be trusted at all."

"Then Despair High School grabbed it from the team members who fled with the K2K system..."

"I have never heard of a stupid organization with that name, but I don't rule out this possibility. There is also one possibility that is the most terrible. I also said that the research group of the 'Bible Plan' had data from many super high school level students. If these people are trying to take their talents, it would be easy to embark on the path to evil."

"Used to do evil, huh?"

"They probably don't think it's evil at all."

It may be that someone leaked the K2K system to Despair High School. Although I am very reluctant to think so, it is not impossible to see that the current "Despair Novel" has actually spread throughout the world. We may face countless enemies. This kind of uneasiness makes a chill crawl up my spine.

"Listen to what I say next and then tremble."

K's blue eyes turned to my right half of the face, so I noticed that the topic finally turned to this point.

"I was trying to hide Borges and finally found a suitable vault. That is you, Shinobu Togami." K said, "Borges is controlled by the K2K System."

Translation Notes:

[0] Karel Čapek was a Czech writer, playwright and critic. He has become best known for his science fiction, including his novel War with the Newts (1936) and play R.U.R. (Rossum's Universal Robots, 1920), which introduced the word robot. He also wrote many politically charged works dealing with the social turmoil of his time. Influenced by American pragmatic liberalism, he campaigned in favor of free expression and strongly opposed the rise of both fascism and communism in Europe.

[1] Franz Kafka was a German-speaking Bohemian novelist and short-story writer, widely regarded as one of the major figures of 20th-century literature. His work, which fuses elements of realism and the fantastic, typically features isolated protagonists facing bizarre or surrealistic predicaments and incomprehensible socio-bureaucratic powers, and has been interpreted as exploring themes of alienation, existential anxiety, guilt, and absurdity. His best known works include "Die Verwandlung" ("The Metamorphosis"), Der Process (The Trial), and Das Schloss (The Castle). The term Kafkaesque has entered the English language to describe situations like those found in his writing. Kafka was born into a middle-class Ashkenazi Jewish family in Prague, the capital of the Kingdom of Bohemia, then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, today the capital of the Czech Republic.

[2] Milan Kundera is a Czech writer who went into exile in France in 1975, becoming a naturalised French citizen in 1981. Kundera’s Czech citizenship was revoked in 1979 and was not restored until 2019. He "sees himself as a French writer and insists his work should be studied as French literature and classified as such in bookstores". He is known for his beautiful silver hair and blue eyes, which contrast the black outfits he enjoys wearing. As of 2020, he is the only author mentioned in Danganronpa to be still alive. Whether or not you understand what I am saying, well i guess is up for interpretation.

[3] If you are a fan of the other Danganronpa spin-offs you should know exactly where this is going. If not, I highly recommend reading Kirigiri Sou before the next part releases. Link can be found here.

[4] "A Hunger Artist" (German: "Ein Hungerkünstler") is a short story by Franz Kafka first published in Die neue Rundschau in 1922. The story was also included in the collection A Hunger Artist (Ein Hungerkünstler), the last book Kafka prepared for publication, printed by Verlag Die Schmiede after Kafka's death. The protagonist, a hunger artist who experiences the decline in appreciation of his craft, is typically Kafkaesque: an individual marginalized and victimized by society at large. "A Hunger Artist" explores themes such as death, art, isolation, asceticism, spiritual poverty, futility, personal failure and the corruption of human relationships. The title of the story has been translated also to "A Fasting Artist" and "A Starvation Artist".

[5] KLAMM refers to the short story by Kafka “The Castle”. The german title Das Schloss may be translated as "the castle" or "the palace", but the German word is a homonym that can also refer to a lock. It is also phonetically close to der Schluss ("conclusion" or "end"). The castle is locked and closed to K (The protagonist of the Castle, whose name is K). and the townspeople; neither can gain access. The name of the character Klamm is similar to "Klammer" in German, which means "clip, brace, peg, fastener" and may hold a double meaning; for Klamm is essentially the lock that locks away the secrets of the Castle and the salvation of K. In ordinary usage, "klamm" is an adjective that denotes a combination of dampness and chill and can be used in reference both to weather and clothing, which inscribes a sense of unease into the main character's name. In Czech, "klam" means delusion, deceit.

[6] Jean-Jacques Rousseau was a Genevan philosopher, writer and composer. His political philosophy influenced the progress of the Enlightenment throughout Europe, as well as aspects of the French Revolution and the development of modern political, economic and educational thought.

[7] “Secondary creation” is not a term commonly used in copyright jurisprudence and it is difficult to ascertain its actual coverage. For instance, there are views suggesting that “secondary creation” should include translations and adaptations, or should be treated as “derivative works”. However, the concepts of translation and adaptation, both being derivative works, are clear under international copyright treaties and copyright laws in different jurisdictions. In particular, the owner of the copyright in a work has the exclusive right to make a translation or an adaptation of the same. Although there may be original elements in the later work itself, it may not be appropriate to take this as the sole basis in considering any copyright exception.The provision of a copyright exception solely based on the rather ambiguous concept of “secondary creation” may blur the line between infringing and non-infringing works, create uncertainty and increase opportunities for abuse.

[8] The Metamorphosis (German: Die Verwandlung) is a novella written by Franz Kafka which was first published in 1915. One of Kafka's best-known works, The Metamorphosis tells the story of salesman Gregor Samsa who wakes one morning to find himself inexplicably transformed into a huge insect (German ungeheures Ungeziefer, literally "monstrous vermin"), subsequently struggling to adjust to this new condition. The novella has been widely discussed among literary critics, with differing interpretations being offered.

[9] Yep, so this is what is speaking to “the reader” during the books openings, and that one interlude. Not Yuya Sato. So suck it TV Tropes and your bullshit misinformation.

[10] The Sorrows of Young Werther (German: Die Leiden des jungen Werthers) is a loosely autobiographical epistolary novel by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, first published in 1774. A revised edition followed in 1787. It was one of the most important novels in the Sturm und Drang period in German literature, and influenced the later Romantic movement. Goethe, aged 24 at the time, finished Werther in five-and-a-half weeks of intensive writing in January–March 1774. The book's publication instantly placed the author among the foremost international literary celebrities, and was among the best known of his works. It is written in the form of Letters, and is basically a depressing love story.

To be continued.

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