little fourteen year old Aaron Burr going off to college all wide eyed and hopeful because he knows he only got in early because of his dad, but he’s going to prove himself!!! he’s going to do so well!!! and everyone will see he deserves to be there

but that’s not what happens. he gets the top grades in every class and is involved in every club, he does everything just right but that only seems to make things worse. whenever he answers a question right or wins an award or is held up as an example by a teacher, the other students roll their eyes and mutter “of course they give him good grades, don’t you know who his father was?” and joke with each other about “the PERFECT little prodigy of princeton college

he figures out what he’s doing wrong, eventually. he stops speaking as much in classes and he mostly keeps to himself and starts studying more. he graduates in two years instead of four, and it hurts, a little, because he was so excited to be there, so sure that he would finally be around people who were as smart as him, that for once he wouldn’t be so separate from everyone. but it’s okay. see, he knows how to act now

talk less, smile more

A long and really, really gay post

Ya know what really annoys me?? What really grinds my gears???

It’s when writers give us a Male Main Character and a Female Main Character and then just expect us to want them to be together purely on the basis of them being, well, the Male MC and the Female MC. See, the reason why so many people in Tumblr fandoms reject the Standard Heterosexual Romance is because writers are too often SUPER LAZY when it comes to “filling in the blanks” (rather, they expect us to do it for them.) Blushing and pining and staring can only progress a relationship so far. Writers have to give the characters a genuine basis for a strong emotional bond, or else it all seems forced for the sake of a tired-out romantic subplot. Moreover, real relationships aren’t static. They change, and they deepen. When a relationship doesn’t do that over the course of the story, it just feels rigid.

Example: The Legend of Korra. Mako and Korra vs. Korra and Asami.

Mako and Korra ended their relationship in Season 2 mostly because it was static. In other words, they both knew dragging out their romantic relationship any further would be pointless. What came between them in the first season came between them later on in the second: Korra’s impatience, Mako’s indecisiveness. There was no longer room for their relationship to develop. Also: For all the criticism of Korrasami being “rushed,” let’s not forget how rushed the romance was in Season 1 — that is, the cloying and uncomfortable insta-love that happened with Ma//korra and Ma//sami.

Korra and Asami, however, developed their relationship over the course of two seasons, as much as some would still like to deny that. It was founded in a deep friendship first, and ultimately culminated in a believable romance. Season 3 spent time pairing them together in moments and situations that would deepen their bond, whether it was a friendly discussion about past romantic blunders, emotional support after a traumatic experience, or working together to figure their way out of an impossible situation (i.e. traversing a vast desert with a giant monster at their heels.) The writers made us want them to be together by the end, because it felt logical and real.

So many other examples, too! Kids on the Slope, Kill la Kill, RWBY etc. 

Why would I ship Kaoru and Ritsuko when the story centers more on the relationship between Kaoru and Sentaro? It is their story and bond that most interests the audience. Kaoru and Ritsuko have little basis for a relationship at all, and it feels a little unsatisfying and unearned for them to be together.

Another! Ryuko and Mako. Regardless of the apparent crush Gamagori has on Mako, it doesn’t change the fact that Ryuko and Mako have a genuine attachment to each other, and support each other and rely on each other in a multitude of ways. Almost everything Ryuko does concerns Mako in some aspect, and vice versa. (And they’re canon? But no one seems to realize this?? Why???)

Last one! RWBY’s Blake and Yang. Why the writers of this show are trying to half-assedly push relationships like Blake/Sun and Weiss/Neptune on us will always be beyond me. Both pairs are based on, as I mentioned before, “blushing and pining and staring” without any real emotional depth or any basis for a relationship. Blake and Yang, however, have been shown to have a very complex and variable relationship. They went from strangers with little in common, to teammates, to friends, and finally to something more complicated than that. While Blake and Sun have few interactions, and share only the common aspect of being faunus, Blake and Yang’s interactions are way more meaningful than that. Such as when Yang confronted Blake about her obsession with stopping Torchwick, and when Blake told Yang why it was difficult for her to put her faith in people close to her. 

Does this mean heterosexual couples are inherently bad? Of course not! Some great examples of when it’s done right: Royai, Shinkane, Kazubisha, Eremika, Yatori, Touken, Edwin, etc. Pairings with solid and realistic foundations, ones founded in respect, trust, and mutual benefit.

Romance writing is only “bad” when it’s LAZY, when the writers expect something from us as an audience based off of weak or nonsensical reasoning. So…there ya go.

I Programmer:

Take the connectome of a worm and transplant it as software in a Lego Mindstorms EV3 robot - what happens next?

It is a deep and long standing philosophical question: Are we just the sum of our neural networks? Of course, if you work in AI you take the answer mostly for granted, but until someone builds a human brain and switches it on we really don’t have a concrete example of the principle in action.

The nematode worm Caenorhabditis elegans (C. elegans) is tiny and only has 302 neurons. These have been completely mapped and the OpenWorm project is working to build a complete simulation of the worm in software. One of the founders of the OpenWorm project, Timothy Busbice, has taken the connectome and implemented an object oriented neuron program.

The model is accurate in its connections and makes use of UDP packets to fire neurons. If two neurons have three synaptic connections then when the first neuron fires a UDP packet is sent to the second neuron with the payload “3”. The neurons are addressed by IP and port number. The system uses an integrate and fire algorithm. Each neuron sums the weights and fires if it exceeds a threshold. The accumulator is zeroed if no message arrives in a 200ms window or if the neuron fires. This is similar to what happens in the real neural network, but not exact.

The software works with sensors and effectors provided by a simple LEGO robot. The sensors are sampled every 100ms. For example, the sonar sensor on the robot is wired as the worm’s nose. If anything comes within 20cm of the “nose” then UDP packets are sent to the sensory neurons in the network.

The same idea is applied to the 95 motor neurons but these are mapped from the two rows of muscles on the left and right to the left and right motors on the robot. The motor signals are accumulated and applied to control the speed of each motor. The motor neurons can be excitatory or inhibitory and positive and negative weights are used.

And the result?

It is claimed that the robot behaved in ways that are similar to observed C. elegans. Stimulation of the nose stopped forward motion. Touching the anterior and posterior touch sensors made the robot move forward and back accordingly. Stimulating the food sensor made the robot move forward.

The key point is that there was no programming or learning involved to create the behaviors. The connectome of the worm was mapped and implemented as a software system and the behaviors emerge.
The conectome may only consist of 302 neurons but it is self-stimulating and it is difficult to understand how it works - but it does.

Currently the connectome model is being transferred to a Raspberry Pi and a self-contained Pi robot is being constructed. It is suggested that it might have practical application as some sort of mobile sensor - exploring its environment and reporting back results. Given its limited range of behaviors, it seems unlikely to be of practical value, but given more neurons this might change.

Is the robot a C. elegans in a different body or is it something quite new? 

Is it alive?

DID and other multiple systems are valid no matter if:

  • switches are very sudden and/or drastic
  • switches are smooth and/or take time
  • lots of switches happen
  • switches happen only rarely
  • you can pretty much control switching (within limits of course)
  • little to no control over switches
  • only two or a few people ever front
  • many different people front
  • no co-consciousness or co-fronting
  • lots of co-consciousness or co-fronting
  • stark differences between different people when they front (like different allergies, eye colours, physical and/or psychological illnesses/symptoms etc)
  • strong filter or otherwise no stark noticeable differences when different people front (for example, everyone has the same handwriting, accent, not much changes for the body etc)
  • lots of blackouts/time loss/amnesia
  • only rarely/little blackouts/time loss/amnesia
  • system members are very different from each other
  • system members are very much like each other
  • big system (polyfractured)
  • small system or dual system
  • fit stereotypes
  • doesn’t fit stereotypes
  • etc.

Pluto in Enhanced Color : Pluto is more colorful than we can see. Color data and images of our Solar System’s most famous dwarf planet, taken by the robotic New Horizons spacecraft during its flyby in July, have been digitally combined to give an enhanced view of this ancient world sporting an unexpectedly young surface. The featured enhanced color image is not only esthetically pretty but scientifically useful, making surface regions of differing chemical composition visually distinct. For example, the light-colored heart-shaped Tombaugh Regio on the lower right is clearly shown here to be divisible into two regions that are geologically different, with the leftmost lobe Sputnik Planum also appearing unusually smooth. New Horizons now continues on beyond Pluto, will continue to beam back more images and data, and will soon be directed to change course so that it can fly past asteroid 2014 MU69 in 2019 January. via NASA


Can we take a moment to appreciate yet another example of freaking brilliant Dean? 

He had a like a super quick crash course in camera hacking from Frank five years ago and it still takes him seconds to hack into traffic cams. Hacking isn’t a thing you learn quick. It’s a complicated mess of multiple programming languages and protocols and acronyms and it changes constantly. Yet Dean Winchester learned it in probably a few days from Frank while on the run from pretty much everyone. 

You aren’t fooling anyone, Dean. The only one who still thinks Sam is “the smart one” and you’re just the muscle with a GED is you.


These screencaps (with the exception of the last) represent three sequential shots from the ‘Escher Room’ scene in Labyrinth. In order to form an argument on what’s happening in these shots, I will start with a hypothesis: the entire 'Escher Room’ scene is far more concerned with Jareth and his emotions than it is with Sarah rescuing Toby. For a start, the song dominates the first half of the scene and is completely concerned with Jareth’s dawning realisation that he wants Sarah but cannot have her. After the ledge-flipping antics early on, Jareth and Sarah are separate: the scene becomes a sequence of disorientating looks, and these screencaps exemplify that.

The set design is, of course, all about distorting perspective: up is down, down is up, and so on. Because the set doesn’t conform to your normal spatial boundaries, the way scene is shot doesn’t either. The first two screencaps above are a great example of cinematic trickery, even if the 'trick’ is only to fool the viewer for a moment: the shots are framed so as to make you think that Jareth is looking 'down’ at Sarah and she is looking back 'up’ at him. Only when the next shot - of Toby looking 'up’ - comes do you realise that Sarah is paying absolutely no attention to Jareth. For the rest of the scene, there is no interaction between them whatsoever: indeed, there’s a complete shift in focus from Jareth and Sarah to Toby and Sarah. When Sarah’s frantic race to Toby becomes the focus, the song starts to fade away, irrelevant and forgotten.

To stray into song interpretation territory, I will say it’s interesting to remark that the line “I can’t live within you” isn’t uttered until right at the end of the song. 'Within You’ starts as a series of threats, bombastic statements and endearments, but the last line is almost gasped as if Jareth can hardly bring himself to sing it. The delivery is faltering and stilted, and it’s sung from the shadows. He knows Sarah isn’t listening, so he no longer has any need to hide his vulnerability and his longing behind bombast. He’s exposed, and his vulnerability means he becomes the most intriguing element of the scene. He should be our villain, but our empathy lies squarely with him because the scene is at pains to exemplify that he has been rejected and is suffering. That, my friends, is what makes Jareth so interesting.

Agree? Disagree? Have further thoughts? Let me know!

homemadesushi  asked:

Hi Hannah! For YEEEARS you've been one of my absolute favorite artists <3 ever since I found your Monsters Abroad~ All your designs really have a great energy to them that I really admire! I was wondering if you could explain your job at Nick and what sortof advice you'd have for anyone looking to work in a similar field. And how you stay inspired. Keep being amazing! (Only if you want to of course!)

THANK YOU!<3333333VERY MUCH!!!<3333333

Since 2014 I had been working as a storyboard artist/ writer (with @yesthisisaaron as my partner) on @chgreenblatt‘s wonderful show “Harvey Beaks” at Nickelodeon (I’m still here, now I’m working on something ~~secret~~~!….ish. Secret-ish). Aaron and I would get a 3-5 page episode outline from one of the writers, then we would collaborate on writing the dialogue and drawing the storyboard, and we get it done in about 5 weeks. Here’s an example of some of my boards from the episode “Foofee” 

Since we worked on a board driven show (vs a script driven show) Aaron and I also wrote most of the jokes and even designed characters sometimes. The biggest aspects of the job on any kind of storyboard I’d say is to draw clearly and expressively, though. Yes staging is important, composition is important, but a storyboard artist needs to make people care. If you want to pursue story, try to make every single drawing say something.

Like, look at this guy. What’s he about? What is he thinking? He’s frowning so he’s sad I guess?? I don’t know. I don’t care about this guy!

Now this dude, here’s a broken man. Why’s he sad? What’s in the photo he’s looking at? I want to know! GUESS I’LL HAVE TO KEEP WATCHING HIM TO FIND OUT!

Not to say that every character in every panel you draw needs to be super duper expressive and loud, though. A lot of the times it’s just a matter of asking yourself “What am I trying to say here, and how can I say it a little more interestingly?” There’s lots of tutorials out there teaching animating and storyboarding principles like line of action and clear silhouette and those are all really helpful for achieving the goal of ultimately just making the most entertaining version of a drawing you can make, whether it’s a storyboard or anything really. 

Sorry, I didn’t really intend for this to turn into a half-baked tutorial, haha. And I just realized those drawings are sad so here’s a little happy guy (or is he?)


Graphic Design, Referenced by Bryony Gomez Palacios.

Graphic Design, Referenced is a visual and informational guide to the most commonly referenced terms, historical moments, landmark projects, and influential practitioners in the field of graphic design. With more than 2,000 design projects illustrating more than 400 entries, it provides an intense overview of the varied elements that make up the graphic design profession through a unique set of chapters: 

PRINCIPLES defines the very basic foundation of what constitutes graphic design to establish the language, terms, and concepts that govern what we do and how we do it, covering layout, typography, and printing terms. 

KNOWLEDGE explores the most influential sources through which we learn about graphic design from the educational institutions we attend to the magazines and books we read. 

REPRESENTATIVES gathers the designers who over the years have proven the most prominent or have steered the course of graphic design in one way or another. 

PRACTICE highlights some of the most iconic work produced that not only serve as examples of best practices, but also illustrate its potential lasting legacy. 

Get it here: http://amzn.to/1k2giFd

the Locker Room

Prompt: Liam and the reader are enemies but later start liking each other

Warnings: well, Liam and the reader don’t really like each other at first so some harsh words are exchanged. But then they make out in the girls’ locker room which is kinda awkward because I didn’t really know how to write it so yeah

Being one of the only girls on the lacrosse team had its perks. For example, boys. Practices were like heaven, watching their muscles flex as they ran and just exercised in general. Of course, after practice, they stunk to high heaven and I didn’t want them to come anywhere near me, but that was beside the point.

           The second perk was Kira. I met her on the day of tryouts, and she quickly became my best friend. Her love for Marvel and my love for action had us constantly throwing movie marathons which turned into sleepovers when we saw how late at night it was.

           All the attention was definitely the third perk. I mean, Kira and I were the talk of the school. The team was completely male dominated, but our small estrogen edition seemed to draw a crowd of feminists and guys who just wanted to look at a chick playing rough. Coach was happy about that; there was a bigger turn-out at the games, and the school newspaper frequently printed segments advertising us.

           It was great. Really, I loved it. But… all of the good things could be sucked away as soon as Liam Dunbar and I made eye contact.

           In my opinion, he was beyond stupid. Dunbar was always very competitive with me- I guessed that it was because we were the only freshmen on the team because he seemed alright with Kira, so it couldn’t be that I was a girl. He threw temper tantrums a lot, which always resulted in Scott, Kira’s boyfriend, and Stiles, Kira’s… weird… friend, rushing him off into the locker room. Coach used to yell at them when they did that, but eventually he got tired and just rolled his eyes.

           That made me angry. Why the hell was Dunbar so special? Why was he allowed to be escorted off the field by his junior fairy-godmothers? It just wasn’t fair.

           The Friday that I finally lost it was the one that followed our first loss of the season. Last night, in the middle of the game, Dunbar decided that he wasn’t going to pass me the freaking ball liked we had practiced. That pissed me off. He ended up scoring, but I was too mad to care. When I got the ball, I acted like I didn’t see him waiting for me to pass it to him. I scored. The crowd cheered. I basked in the glory until a rough shove to my shoulder jerked me out of the happy haze.

           It was Dunbar, and he wasn’t happy. Through his mask, he spit, “What the hell? Why didn’t you pass to me?”

           I laughed. “Just returning the favor, thickhead. You didn’t pass to me either. And I scored anyway, so I don’t know why you’re getting your tighty-whiteys in a wad.”

           “You’re kidding me, right?” He stepped closer; our masks were pressed together as he shouted. “You’re acting like a child. We’re in the middle of the game.”

           Scoffing, I shoved his chest. “You’re the one who’s acting like a child, Dunbar. Now get out of my face before I make you.”

           He let out a sharp snort of derision. “I’d just love to see you try.”

           Hands were pulling us apart suddenly. Kira had her arms around my shoulders while Scott and Stiles held onto Dunbar’s arms. Coach and the referee were sprinting over to us. Faintly, I could hear Scott muttering, “Hey, Liam, you got this. Stay in control. Breathe.”

           Stiles was chanting as well, although I wouldn’t exactly define his words as ones of encouragement. “You freaking idiot, chill out! You’re going to shift in front of all these people! Because of a girl? You’re kidding me, right? We have a game to play.”

           Kira spun me around. “Y/N, what- are you okay?” Her dark eyes looked me over anxiously.

           “Oh, I’m fine.” Then I raised my voice, knowing he could hear. “Dunbar is just pitching a bitch fit like he’s five and making everything about him again. Nothing new.”

           “What?” Dunbar snarled- I mean, he actually snarled. “You’re the one who’s not following the plays. You won’t pass to me because of your silly little grudge.”

           I was screaming. “You didn’t pass to me first! So how dare you get mad when I do the same?”

           “Are you-” He lurched against Stiles and Scott’s tight hold. “I didn’t see you!”

           “That’s bull and you know it, Dunbar!” I shrieked. “You looked me dead in the eyes and then kept running. You just wanted to compensate with a big win for something smaller, am I right?”

           To make a long story short, by the time Coach got over to us, we were both cussing, so he benched us. “I can’t believe you two.” He angrily shoved his clipboard under his arm. “Okay, yeah, Dunbar, kind of expected it because of your record- no hard feelings- but Y/N? Really? You’re going to try and fight him?”

           I raised an eyebrow. “Are you insinuating that I couldn’t take him out? Because I could, if you’d like a demonstration.”

           Dunbar laughed coldly. “I would love to see that happen.”

           Whirling on him, I pushed his shoulder. “Do you want to go Dunbar?”

           Coach stuck his arm in between our faces, which were so close that our noses were almost touching. “That is enough!” He roared. “Tomorrow night’s practice, you both are staying after. You’re going to help me clean the gear. And… and… you both better be here Saturday morning. I think a little PT is in order. It’ll be a bonding experience. Might make you like each other.” At the dirty looks Dunbar and I exchanged, Coach back-tracked. “Or maybe it’ll just make you hate each other all the more. Well, my advice to you is- bottle it up and use it on the field. But not against each other for crying out loud!”

           Then we lost the game because Scott and Stiles were benched for some illegal hits- I had a sneaking suspicion that they did it on purpose- and towed Dunbar off to the locker rooms, leaving our team without its captain and some of its best players.

           So yeah, that was mainly the reason why my Friday sucked. I knew I was going to have to stay after. Kira was more understanding than my parents. They chewed me out. She only promised that we could reschedule the Iron Man marathon.

           “Seriously, it’s no big deal.” Kira assured me as I thanked her, slipping my Nikes on. “I just wish you and Liam could get along.”

           I hit my head on the bench when I jerked upwards so fast, quickly brushing off her concerned hands. “Me and Dunbar? Get along? I happen to be a big fan of our relationship. I hate him and he hates me. It’s perfect.”

           Kira pursed her lips as she shimmed into her shorts. “That’s nice, but… do you really hate him?”

           “Well…” I thought it over. Kira was my best friend; I told her everything. I figured this was no different. It wasn’t like she was going to go squealing to anyone. “I mean, yeah, he pisses me off a lot, but… sometimes he’s funny. And he’s definitely not ugly. But you didn’t hear that from me, got it?”

           Hesitantly, Kira nodded. “Okay, but… I mean, no offense, but I think it would make the team more of a team if you tried to focus on those things instead of how angry he makes you and maybe attempted to get along. Plus, it would be nice not having to stop him from ripping your throat out.”

           “Hey!” I settled my hands on my hips. “I am more than capable of ripping Dunbar’s throat out if the time comes.”

           “Please,” I jumped, spinning around to see Coach standing in the doorway with his eyes covered. “Just stop, Y/L/N. I don’t want to give up my Sunday for you, too. Just put some clothes on and get out on the field.”

           I pretended to think about it. “I don’t know, Coach, I kinda like this look.” I gestured to my shorts and sports-bra. “It makes me feel much freer.”

           “That only makes me worry. Thank you for making my gray hairs grow faster.” He said sarcastically, shifting his weight while still keeping his eyes covered. “Now get on the field!” Coach left then, shaking his head and muttering something about ‘teenage girls are weird.’

           Kira giggled. When I looked at her and asked, “What?” she only shook her head and tossed me my shirt. I slipped it over my head, and we jogged out.

           Everyone was waiting for us, it seemed. Scott came over with a smile on his face, Stiles and Liam trailing him like always. “Hey guys.” He greeted, nodding to me and pecking Kira’s cheek.

           “Hello.” Stiles said awkwardly, scratching his head under his helmet. I guessed he was playing goalie today.

           “Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence.” Liam muttered. I smirked and flipped my ponytail over my shoulder, retailing with, “You don’t have to thank me. Just know you’re welcome.” Liam was about to get his revenge when Coach blew sharply on his whistle and told us to take a few laps.

           Kira, Stiles, and I all jogged at the same pace while Liam and Scott ran up ahead. “So, Kira, did it work?” Stiles panted.

           “Did what work?” I asked.

           “Oh,” Stiles faltered. “Maybe it was a bad idea to ask with you right there.”

           “Maybe you should tell me what the hell you’re talking about, Stilinski.”

           “Alright!  Hey, no need to bust out the last names. We’re cool; we’re good here.”

           Kira rolled her eyes. “He’s talking about the talk we had in the locker room. About Liam. And maybe you and him working out your differences.”

           My mouth dropped open. “You put her up to that?” I almost screamed. I knew people were looking, but I didn’t care.

           Stiles gestured for me to quiet down. “No need to raise your voice, little one! We had the same talk with Liam in the guys’ locker room.”

           Bitterly, I asked, “Well? What? Same results?”

           Raising his eyebrows, he looked over at Kira. “Depends on what you said, Y/N.”

           Gasping, I smacked Kira’s arm. “Don’t you even think about selling me out!” I warned. She gave me a cool look before suggesting, “Well, then, maybe you should tell Stiles what you said. It’s you or me.”

           “I don’t want to tell Stiles!” I whined. “He’s just going to blab to Scott who will blab to Dunbar.”

           “Nonsense!” Stiles protested. “I am a trustworthy guy. I won’t tell Scott; I’ll tell Lydia. Who will probably tell Liam directly.”

           It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Whatever. I’m done with this conversation. Kira, if you know what’s good for you, you won’t tell him crap.” Then I took off at full speed, shooting past and weaving through groups of guys. Being the smallest person on the team had its advantage- I was the fastest. Another thing that pissed Dunbar off about me.

           Because I could, as I sprinted past Scott and Dunbar, I shouted, “On your left!”

           “Go to hell!”  Dunbar yelled. I just laughed, “See you there, babe!”

           This went on for the next three laps: I would pass Dunbar, say something to him that would piss him off, and then zip on right ahead of him. On the fifth and final lap, when I came up behind him, I made a very dumb, split-second decision. I smacked Dunbar right on the ass before sprinting as fast and hard as I could.

           “That’s it.” I heard him growl.  Scott warned, “No, Liam, don’t-” But I guessed he didn’t listen. I didn’t bother looking back; I was almost at the stopping point. My lungs and legs burned, and the back of neck was sticky with sweat.

           Something hit my back, and then I was rolling. People started yelling, but I couldn’t really make out what they were saying over the blood rushing through my ears.

           Dunbar glared down at me, and I fixed him with a fiery stare. “What the hell is your problem?” I screeched in his face, trying to worm my way out from underneath his body. His hands tightened around my wrists, pinning them to the ground beside me.

           “You’re my problem!” He barked. Breathing heavily, I brought my legs up to the point my feet touched my butt. Using my hips, I thrust upwards and to the side, dumping him off of me. The move obviously took him by surprise.

           I was just about to start wailing on him when someone picked me up around the waist and hauled me over his shoulder. I recognized those damn shoes. “Stiles!” I pounded on his back. “Put me down!”

           Stiles shook me slightly. “Um, no? Why would I do that? You guys are trying to kill each other! Again!

           “Stiles!” I thrashed against him, but nothing seemed to faze him. Suddenly tired, I let my arms hang limply, stretching towards the ground. Through Stiles’s legs, I could see Scott chewing Liam out. Kira came to his side, speaking quietly in Scott’s ear. I had a hard time hearing what they were saying because everyone was running over and yelling.

           Coach somehow overpowered them all. “Separate them! Stilinski, take Y/L/N over there! This has got to stop! McCall, you’re- taking Dunbar to the showers again. Fine. Whatever. Everyone, settle down! Take another lap to get all of that excitement out of your system.”

           Grunting, Stiles set me down. I watched Scott disappear into the school with Dunbar and Kira. I looked at Stiles, and then back at the doors. Stiles seemed to catch on. “No no no no no. Y/N, don’t you dare-”

           It was too late. I sprinted for the doors, ignoring Coach’s yells and Stiles’s promised shouts, “I’ll get her Coach! I’ve got her! You just go back to… coaching…”

           I knew that Stiles was sprinting after me- and that skinny bastard could move when he wanted to- so I pushed myself, throwing the door open and running as fast as I could for the boys’ locker room. As I pounded through the entry way, I could see shadows in the corner, and water running. Was the shower on?

           I skidded to a stop, peeking my head around the corner.

           Dunbar was puffing under a constant stream of water, back against the wall, eyes closed. Scott was squatting beside him; Kira was standing on his other side. “This has got to stop, dude.” Scott clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re putting her in danger.”

           “Don’t you think I know that?” His eyes flashed open, a furious golden tint to them. “But she’s just so… and I can’t… and it pisses me off!” Dunbar slammed his fist into the tile, completely shattering it. Bits and pieces shot up, scattering all around him. “It’s like I can’t control myself around her! I get so angry because I can’t…” His voice caught in his throat. He shook his head. “And then I do something stupid…”

           Kira stroked his hair, pushing it off his forehead. “We know, Liam. Calm down. We’re going to figure something out.”

           “You guys keep saying that.” He closed his eyes again. In that moment, I found him… very nice looking. His gray shirt was soaked, clinging to his toned chest. Droplets slid down his neck; his hair looked darker, messy. His full lips were pink and inviting.

           “Because it’s true!” Kira insisted.

           Scott sighed. “Did you talk to her?” His mocha eyes were wide and earnest.

           Tentatively, Kira nodded. “Yes… but she didn’t want me to tell you.” When Scott gave her a look, she threw her hands up. “Hey, she is my best friend!”  

           I didn’t realize that Stiles had caught up until he announced, “Yeah, your best friend that part-times as a peeping tom!”


So I got caught. Dunbar was pissed, Kira was pissed, Scott was pissed, Stiles was pissed, Coach was pissed… everyone was ticked off.

           “I don’t know what the hell you were thinking,” Coach was beet red as he ranted in my face, “but that was the stupidest thing I had ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot, thanks to Greenberg.”

           Yawning, I watched the other players pick up their stuff and head to the locker rooms. “Coach, I’m pretty much immune to scolding. I’ve been bitched out three times today now. You might as well save your breath because I’m just tuning you out.”

           Coach sputtered.

           “Not trying to be disrespectful.” I tacked on at the end, hoping it wasn’t too late.

           “Well that was a nice save.” Coach waved his clipboard behind him. “Go ahead and meet Dunbar in the weight room. I left the equipment and cleaning supplies in there. I’ll be in my office. And if you two decide to fight, I won’t break it up. I’ll let you kill each other. I’m getting too old for this.” With that, Coach stalked back into the building.  


The weight room was exactly what it sounded like- it was a square building with one room that was filled with weights. There wasn’t any air-conditioning, and it always smelled like butt.

           Dunbar was already seated on the side of a treadmill, furiously wiping the inside of a helmet. “Nice of you to show up.” He snickered.

           “Yeah, well, I was getting my ass chewed. Does that make you feel any better?”

           “Loads.” He threw the can of Clorox wipes at me. “I’ve already started on the helmets. You wanna do the pads?”

           “If you lace up the sticks.” I consented. With an eye roll, he nodded. We worked in silence for the longest time, cleaning and fixing the gear. It was a bit of a surprise to me. Why weren’t we bickering? How come he was so quiet? What was he thinking about?

           Coach poked his head in. “It’s too quiet.” Dunbar and I just looked at each other. “I don’t believe this. It’s too weird. A little bit of yelling never hurt anybody.”

           Once he had left, Dunbar turned to me. “How much did you hear earlier?” He looked at me with his intense blue eyes. “Back in the locker room, I mean.”

           I mulled over my options. I could either lie or tell the truth. I figured that the truth would piss him off the most, so that’s what I told him. “You were talking about how angry I make you. Scott said that you were putting me in danger, and then you said that you couldn’t do something, and that it made you lose control. It made you really angry.”

           Dunbar ran his hand over his face. “Why did you even come in there, Y/N?” He sounded tired. Not upset in the slightest. Damn.

           I shrugged. “I don’t know. I was mad after you tackled me, and wanted to see why you always escape to the locker room with Scott.”

           He let out a puff of air, laying back across the treadmill. His shirt lifted a tad to reveal his stomach. “Okay, well, don’t do it again, alright?” I didn’t say anything. Dunbar laid there for a little while longer. Then he sat up abruptly. “You done with yours?”

           Nodding, I set the last elbow pad down. “Just finished.”

           He held open one of the bags and I began to stuff equipment inside. Once we had finished with that, we stowed everything away in the storage closet, and went to tell Coach that we were done.

           “Oh, you’re still alive.” He looked us over briefly before returning to whatever he was working on. “Go change out of your clothes; you both smell. Be here tomorrow at seven thirty. You’re going to be trying out some of these military workouts I found on YouTube the other day. I suggest eating a light breakfast.”

           Dreading tomorrow, Dunbar and I went our separate ways. The janitor was mopping up the girls’ locker room when I walked inside. “Hi.” I greeted softly. She just nodded and stepped out.

           I had just slipped into my clothes- thankfully- when the door swung open. In the threshold was a red-cheeked Dunbar, gripping his change of clothes with a sour expression.

           “Um, what do you think you’re doing?” I asked. “This is the girls’ locker room.”

           “The boys’ locker room is closed. Coach just left and the janitor locked up.”

           “Really?” I crossed my arms. “How did you get your clothes then?”

           “I left them sitting out. The janitor was putting them in the lost and found when I caught up to her.”

           “Okay. Why can’t you change in the bathroom?”

           “Because they’re all locked.”

           “Just drive home in your gym clothes. It won’t kill you, I promise.”

           “No. I’m changing now.” Dunbar threw his clothes on the bench and yanked off his shirt. I quickly averted my gaze, focusing on tying my shoes.

           Alright, I couldn’t help it. I kept sneaking peeks at him, watching his arms flex as he moved, back rippling, veins standing out along his arms and hands. It was confusing. He made me so angry, but at the same time…

           “What are you looking at?” I snapped out of it instantly, blinking. Dunbar had his shirt and jeans on now. “Do you like me or something?” He teased, shifting his weight on his sock-covered feet.

           I blanched. “Oh no, sweetheart. Don’t flatter yourself. Besides, I think you like me.” I smirked, feeling quite accomplished.

           “No, I’m pretty sure that you like me.” Dunbar sneered. “Maybe that’s why you like to push my buttons so much.”

           “You definitely like me.” I stood up, edging my way towards him. “Did you like having me under you earlier?”

           Dunbar stepped up to the plate; we were almost chest to chest. “Not as much as you did. ‘Cause you like me. I drive you crazy. Your heart beats faster whenever I’m around, and you don’t even realize it.”

           I put a finger on his chest to accentuate my point. “You like me, and it pisses you off because you think that you can’t have me.”

           He shook his head. “I don’t think; I know.” He looked at the ground between us. “It wouldn’t be safe for you.”

           “What, because you’ve got an I.E.D.? That’s stupid.” I cocked my head to the side as my voice took on a much softer quality. “Liam…”

           His blue eyes met mine. “You’ve never called me that before.” He whispered.

           I wrinkled my nose. “What?”

           “You’ve never called me ‘Liam’ before. I’m always ‘Dunbar’.”

           “Oh,” I watched him chew on his lip. “I never noticed that.”

           “Yeah, well, I always do.”

           We didn’t say anything for what felt like the longest time. My heart was pounding in my ears at our close proximity. I could feel every breath he took, almost. It was hot- sweltering, even. I could feel my cheeks blazing.

           “Y/N?” Liam murmured. “Be honest with me for a second. What would you do if I kissed you right now?”

           “I would kiss you back.” I answered, blatantly honest. I didn’t have it in me to put up any pretenses; I was too captivated in the way his lips moved, wondering how they would feel and taste. “I’m not rude.”

           “Okay.” He breathed, hand coming up to cup my cheek. “So, I’m going to kiss you now.”

           “Because you like me.” His tongue darted out to wet his nervous lips.

           “Only because you like me.”

           “That doesn’t make any sense.” I said, breathless. Our lips brushed each other as he spoke. “It sounded a lot better in my head.”

           That’s when I lost it. My patience, that is. My fingers knotted in his hair, pitching him forward. The second our lips met I sucked in a deep breath, molding my body to his, holding him as close to me as I could. Liam’s hands left my face to grip my hips and then slid down to my ass, squeezing, indulging in the soft supple skin. I bit down on his lower lip, earning a hiss.

           “Too soon?” He panted as his hands retreated to their position on my hips.

           “Bingo.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, planting another kiss on his rosy lips.

           “Sorry.” He chuckled. “Just had to get you back for slapping my ass earlier.”

           I giggled. “Then I better have the opportunity to pin you down sometime.”

           “I am so okay with that.” Liam grinned, giving me a softer, more sensual kiss. I cupped his jaw, stretching on my tip toes, allowing his arms to wind around me, tugging me closer.

           “What the hell?” We both jerked away to see a wide-eyed, open-mouthed, red-faced Coach Finstock.

           Blushing, I shoved Liam’s chest. He didn’t even budge. “I thought you said that he was gone!”

           “I was!” Coach held up his coffee mug. “I forgot this. Now I’m wishing I had just left it.”

           “Nothing was happening-” Liam started to protest, but Coach cut him off. “Nothing was- Dunbar, you were making out in the locker room!” He ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “Is this why you two were so quiet earlier? Were you plotting? Maybe going for it on the mats?”

           Laughing, I shook my head. “Oh my God, no, Coach. We literally just found out that we like each other like five minutes ago.”

           Liam grinned. “So you do like me! You just admitted it!”

           “Oh my God, Dunbar, you’re so dense. Obviously I like you, otherwise I wouldn’t have just let you get away with groping my ass.”

           “I think I like it better when you call me Liam.” He said as Coach covered his ears, “I don’t want to hear any more! Go home and do whatever you like, just… not in my locker room, for God’s sake!”

“We gave Iraq the chance to have an inclusive democracy.”

Barack Obama

If by democracy Obama means an estimated 1 million Iraqis killed, 4.5 million displaced, 1-2 million widows, and 5 million orphans, as Global Research reported in ‘09:

We are now able to estimate the number of Iraqis who have died in the war instigated by the Bush administration. Looking at the empirical evidence of Bush’s war legacy will put his claims of victory in perspective. Of course, even by his standards — “stability” — the jury is out. Most independent analysts would say it’s too soon to judge the political outcome. Nearly six years after the invasion, the country remains riven by sectarian politics and major unresolved issues, like the status of Kirkuk.

We have a better grasp of the human costs of the war. For example, the United Nations estimates that there are about 4.5 million displaced Iraqis — more than half of them refugees — or about one in every six citizens. Only 5 percent have chosen to return to their homes over the past year, a period of reduced violence from the high levels of 2005-07. The availability of healthcare, clean water, functioning schools, jobs and so forth remains elusive. According to Unicef, many provinces report that less than 40 percent of households have access to clean water. More than 40 percent of children in Basra, and more than 70 percent in Baghdad, cannot attend school.

The mortality caused by the war is also high. Several household surveys were conducted between 2004 and 2007. While there are differences among them, the range suggests a congruence of estimates. But none have been conducted for eighteen months, and the two most reliable surveys were completed in mid-2006. The higher of those found 650,000 “excess deaths” (mortality attributable to war); the other yielded 400,000. The war remained ferocious for twelve to fifteen months after those surveys were finished and then began to subside. Iraq Body Count, a London NGO that uses English-language press reports from Iraq to count civilian deaths, provides a means to update the 2006 estimates. While it is known to be an undercount, because press reports are incomplete and Baghdad-centric, IBC nonetheless provides useful trends, which are striking. Its estimates are nearing 100,000, more than double its June 2006 figure of 45,000. (It does not count nonviolent excess deaths — from health emergencies, for example — or insurgent deaths.) If this is an acceptable marker, a plausible estimate of total deaths can be calculated by doubling the totals of the 2006 household surveys, which used a much more reliable and sophisticated method for estimates that draws on long experience in epidemiology. So we have, at present, between 800,000 and 1.3 million “excess deaths” as we approach the six-year anniversary of this war.

This gruesome figure makes sense when reading of claims by Iraqi officials that there are 1-2 million war widows and 5 million orphans. This constitutes direct empirical evidence of total excess mortality and indirect, though confirming, evidence of the displaced and the bereaved and of general insecurity. The overall figures are stunning: 4.5 million displaced, 1-2 million widows, 5 million orphans, about 1 million dead — in one way or another, affecting nearly one in two Iraqis.

By any sensible measure, it would be difficult to describe this as a victory of any kind. It speaks volumes about the repair work we must do for Iraqis, and it should caution us against the savage wars we are prone to. Now that Bush is gone, perhaps the United States can honestly face the damage we have wrought and the responsibilities we must accept from it.

Then maybe he is conflating the word with something more like genocide. 

Ignoring the differences of race between women and the implications of those differences presents the most serious threat to the mobilization of women’s joint power. As white women ignore their built-in privilege of whiteness and define woman in terms of their own experience alone, then women of Color become “other,” the outsider whose experience and tradition is too “alien” to comprehend.

An example of this is the signal absence of the experience of women of Color as a resource for women’s studies courses.

The literature of women of Color is seldom included in women’s literature courses and almost never in other literature courses, nor in women’s studies as a whole. All too often, the excuse given is that the literatures of women of Color can only be taught by Colored women, or that they are too difficult to understand, or that classes cannot “get into” them because they come out of experiences that are “too different.”

I have heard this argument presented by white women of otherwise quite clear intelligence, women who seem to have no trouble at all teaching and reviewing work that comes out of the vastly different experiences of Shakespeare, Moliere, Dostoyevsky, and Aristophanes. Surely there must be some other explanation.

—  Audre Lorde, “Age, Race, Sex, and Class,” from Sister Outsider

Jeffrey Cranor and Joseph Fink please, please, please try and do better when it comes to Cissexism.

Terms like “his or her”, “Ladies and Gentlemen” “Female/Male Voice” (in refernce to Fey and the Angels in the debate)

Another example is when the hooded figure showed up at the station and Cecil said it he couldn’t tell their gender due to “not telling body shape under the hood”. Body =/= gender.

Please help make WTNV even better and more inclusive for the listeners. It’s already one of the most friendly works in media for marginalized groups but there are still ways to improve and make it better. Trans inclusion being one of the most apparent ways. Not the only one, because of course WTNV is not perfect, but I believe that both of you are nice people and that you want to make WTNV inclusive for everyone. I have never had that believe with writer’s before. Please prove me right.


(flirtation - seduction - courtship)

» note #1: the inspiration came from here via chewinggumfortheeyes

» note #2: these are, of course, not the only examples, and there are more “signals”, too (mimicking/synchronizing is a very interesting one that would require both a re-watch & a separate post), but there is only so much I can cram into one gifset.

» note #3: none of the above is a conclusive sign on its own. However, when they occur repeatedly and in clusters, they tend to be indicative of attraction & romantic/sexual interest.

» note #4: here is an interesting research article that might shed some light on how behavior that’s reminiscent of parental affection and care-giving is, in fact, a naturally occurring component of a courtship ritual, especially in the sexual-arousal phase, regardless of the age of those (consenting adults) involved. It creates & fosters intimacy.

Theory of Love

I was recently studying Sternberg’s theory of love in Psychology and of course it made me think about relationships.  I later applied this theory to SwanQueen. 

This theory entails three components of love.  They are: intimacy, passion, and commitment. Of course these components have to go both ways in a relationship.  One person can feel this way, but if the other does not, the relationship is most likely to fail.

Intimacy is the feeling of closeness, trust, attachment, and connectedness.

Passion is categorized as physical attraction and sexual arousal.  Even romantic attraction.

Commitment is the willingness to create and maintain a relationship short-term and later plans to sustain the relationship.

These are only a few examples under each category.  I’d be here forever and a day finding every time they have shown any type of commitment, intimacy, or passion.  

Gifs not mine.

like both MLK & Mandela were actually considered violent, MLK was assassinated by the US gov & Mandela was imprisoned for 27 years, so no, they are literally not examples of people who were supported by ‘non-violent’ advocates/liberals, they were only accepted & praised by them long after the death of MLK & after apartheid ended in South Africa, and of course only the extremely watered down version of these men are praised by liberals today.

i wish there was more support for/acceptance of phases.

it’s possible for something to be a phase for one person and permanent for another. and even at that rate - just because something is temporary does not mean it is necessarily illegitimate or unimportant. so much of life is fleeting, is brief, is experimental; that makes it no less real. 

exploring options is not wrong. changing your mind is not wrong. throwing your whole heart into something only to find you don’t want it anymore - that’s okay. of course, some responsibility with commitments is good, both for you and others involved but. please let urself learn and grow and try new things. its ok

The thing that bothers me, that really bothers me, about pro-Templar arguments in Dragon Age is this: Harry Potter exists.

Not just Harry Potter, obviously. Magic exists is a fairly common starting point for a work of fiction. But Harry Potter is a good example because there are some interesting similarities. The two magical systems don’t align perfectly, of course. It would be incredible if they did. But:

  • both describe a world where only a minority of the population has magic
  • both have magic be a thing that runs in families, although it sometimes manifests in people with no obvious magical heritage
  • both are set in worlds with at least some hostility to magic
  • both have magic be something that manifests in a person roughly around puberty (although with a significant amount of variation across individuals)
  • both make it possible for an untrained mage/wizard to do magic by accident – often under emotional stress – including magic that can be dangerous to the people around them
  • both include subsets of magical people who think that mages/wizards should rule the world

There are some strong similarities there. And yet … I don’t think I ever saw anyone say ‘Why isn’t the Anglican church (just to pick a prominent religious group in the area where the books are set) all over this?’

Why isn’t the church taking these kids away from their families and locking them up for life? Why aren’t there armed, non-magical guards who are sworn to serve the church stationed around every dorm and classroom, with shoot-to-kill orders if those kids so much as look at them funny? Why aren’t these kids being made to read the Bible (yes, including the Patil girls, and anyone else who might not be a Christian) constantly, with particular reference to the ‘thou shalt not suffer a witch to live’ part, and the constant reminder that they’re incredibly lucky that the guards aren’t just setting their sinful bodies on fire?

How can the Weasleys have seven children? How were these kids not taken from them at birth, and raised in a proper church-run orphanage? How were they not separated and imprisoned when their magic started? Why were Molly and Arthur not punished for breeding?

Why was Neville Longbottom allowed to continue living, when he so clearly struggled to control and understand his magic? Surely he should have been killed, or at least lobotomised to prevent him from doing other people harm?

I mean: the prime minister knows about their little world. It would be some work to set up, but it could be done.

I don’t know. Maybe someone is saying this somewhere. There are people who think Severus Snape was good at teaching, so anything is possible. But it’s not exactly a prominent idea.

And yet … the two magical worlds share a lot of ideas. What’s different is the in-universe framing.

The Harry Potter books deal directly with bigotry. It’s one of their main themes. Is it perfectly done? No, of course not. I’m not trying to depict them as some perfect example: they have their flaws. But JK Rowling was deliberately writing about prejudice and oppression. The Dursleys abuse Harry because he has magic – in fact, they abuse him at first because he might have magic. And this is depicted as evil and wrong. The Death Eaters assault ‘Muggles’ because they don’t have magic. And this is depicted as evil and wrong. The general assumption in the stories is that everyone should be allowed to live their lives unmolested. They should be allowed to have homes and families and careers – regardless of whether or not they have magic. People who think otherwise do get to speak, but we’re not on their side.

Dragon Age depicts a world that is run by a terrifying imperial religion: the Chantry. The Orlesian empire is described in World of Thedas II as comprised of people ‘unified only in their love of Andraste and shared hatred of everyone else’ which … pretty well sums up how their national religion behaves in the games. As frustrating as it is, it makes sense that the characters may talk about mages as dangerous and sinful; that they may perceive Circles and Templars as ‘necessary’ and that the Codex entries are full of justification for imprisonment, torture and murder.

But … we’ve all read Harry Potter, right? And … we don’t want Harry to spend the rest of his life locked in a room with a religious fanatic guarding the door, do we? Or perhaps we’ve seen the X-Men films and … surely we’re all agreed that these people shouldn’t be killed or imprisoned or forcibly ‘cured’ because they have blue skin or wings, or even because Magneto exists? Or that young woman in the last Star Wars film, Rey, surely we don’t want her beaten and lobotomised because she can do things with the power of her mind? Aren’t we all hoping that these people get to be free and safe and happy, and the people who want to keep that from them are the villains?

To talk about the ‘necessity’ of Circles is to buy into the particular ignorance and indoctrination of the characters in this story. Mages can teach mages in freedom and safety: Professor McGonagall and her ilk taught Harry; Professor Xavier teachers his students; presumably Luke Skywalker will get off his hermit arse to teach Rey.

If Harry Potter doesn’t need a Circle, neither does Wynne or Vivienne or Fiona or Anders or Rhys or Adrian – or any mage in Dragon Age.

Why do we say 'probly' and 'libry' instead of probably and library?

We’ve all done it one time or another. Instead of enunciating the syllables in “probably,” a slurred “probly” comes out instead. Why does this happen?

I wrote an article for The Week about haplology, the omission of one of two consecutive, identical syllables. Or, of course, “haplogy”, if you want to get self-referential about it. 

I get the impression that haplology may happen slightly more often in British English: John Wells has the example /‘kwɒntətɪv/ for “quantitative” on the BBC, which I can only really get when I attempt the accent. My default North American reduced form would be something more like /'kwɑnəteɪtɪv/, with the post-nasal /t/ deleted, as is very common in rapid English speech. Anyone else?