I am about to vomit I am so excited. My love for Jackson Wang transcends all boundaries, truly our love is an enigma in itself. But in all seriousness, I love this boy so much because he is a light of happiness in its purest form, bless him. I am so happy how this one turned out as well because I’ve been wanting to write GOT7 scenarios for soooo long. Anyway, hope you enjoy reading this one as much as I loved writing it. Rest in pieces igot7 who follow me.
P.S. Beware: After reading this you will realize how much of a kink I have for Jackson saying baby girl and dirty talk. /douses computer in holy water/
They say the best things always come in threes. At least sometimes. Definitely not all the time. Especially when it came to the three of you. Things could get complicated. Fast.
Joined at the hip, with you in the middle, Jackson and Mark had been your closest friends since day one. You couldn’t even recall the day you met them because since that day, it’d all been a blur of hormones, stolen glances, ‘friendly’ thigh touches, long, drawn out hugs, and 'casual’ kisses. You’d promised yourself when you were younger that you wouldn’t ever think of being with either of them, they were your best friends, your brothers. No dating, no banging; it would ruin what you already had with them.
Boy, just because you say it doesn’t mean you mean it.
If you were you and Mark was Mark, quiet, sweet, and thoughtful; Jackson was Jackson. No words were capable of properly describing him, he was an enigma of doubled over laughs, bright smiles that crinkled his eyes, and the purest soul you’d ever encountered.
He’d always been touchy-feely, but there always seemed to be a difference in the way he’d hug other people versus you. He’d hold on longer, treating you like you were porcelain and he could break you with the slightest touch. You had secretly relished the feeling of his lips against your skin when he buried his head into the crook of your neck. Something as simple as that sent heat pooling between your legs and you were sure he noticed every single time. Even the way he’d lean in to whisper something to you, his hair brushing your forehead intimately, his soft voice causing happy chills, and the way he would only make eye contact for a second before looking away and biting his lip made your heart flutter.
You’d always been a late bloomer, puberty coming later for you than anyone had predicted. Basically, your growth spurt began to fuck with his life as you grew curvier and filled out.
Jackson then began to seem uncomfortable being with you alone and overly protective when you hung out with other people, especially boys and you immediately thought he was only thinking of you as his sister. Even Mark, who you looked up to as a brother and was Jackson’s best friend was no exception. He wanted to shield you from all the dangers of the world; the only piece that didn’t fit was his strange behavior around you. Some days he was all touches and flirting, the next he was blunt and quiet, very uncharacteristic of him.
Mark probably talked some sense into him, being the eldest and most mature of the trio. Maybe he smacked him around a little for acting ridiculous and being even more dramatic than he usually was, but eventually he did confess to you.
“Just tell her you like her, Jackson,” Mark groaned, completely worn out from his friend’s anxiety. “_____ isn’t going to wait for you forever. You and I both know that, so get your ass in gear and confess.”
You’d never seen Jackson so nervous before in all the time you’d known him. He was always so confident and levelheaded, always knew the right thing to say, that smooth lady killer vibe. With you, he completely lost all sense of direction and couldn’t even complete one sentence before he just kissed you. It was a typical Jackson move, no matter how well spoken he was, he’d always been able to express more with actions rather than words. You didn’t know what to do at first, all you’d ever known had been completely changed by a kiss from your best friend. What were you going to do now? How was your friendship ever going to survive? What about Mark? What would he even think of his best friends dating?
A million questions were before you, but the only one you really cared about was the searing kiss from the boy who you’d thought you knew everything about. And the only answer that mattered at that moment was when you kissed Jackson back, your arms around his neck as he practically bounced with joy and kissed you with even more enthusiasm. Of course you’d said yes. You’d be a fool to deny yourself love from someone who’d always loved you and been with you.
So you found yourself fingers tightly interlocked with one of your best friends, the other one sitting calmly to your other side barely flinching at each jump scare. You practically were about to vomit into the popcorn you were so anxious. This is why you told Jackson and Mark you didn’t want to see the new critically acclaimed horror movie everyone was talking about, because it stressed you out. They taunted you and picked at you, until you said yes. But the real motivation for going was that you could cower into Jackson’s strong arms as many times as you wanted and he could hold your hand the whole time. That was the only plus side to this thing.
Jackson leaned over to you, his eyes smiling in the dim lighting as he whispered, “You okay? Remember, you can always cuddle with me to make the ghosts go away _____."
He wiggled his eyebrows causing you giggle and swat at him playfully, "Are you sure? I know I can’t see because it’s dark, but I think all my fingers are purple.” He immediately released your hand from his strong grip, looking sheepish as he breathed out, “Sorry.”
You were about to snatch his hand up again, when he leaned deliciously close to your ear. You shivered, feeling his lips brush against the cusp, barely hanging on as he whispered, “Gotta pee.”
You wanted to smack him upside the head, but also laugh until you cried. You almost would have down both had the stern look Mark was giving you made you quiet down. Jackson flashed his winning smile before silently slipping away down the stairs of the big theater and out the door. You watched his broad back disappear around the corner, the theater suddenly becoming more eerie every second he was gone.
The movie was approaching its climax, the ghosts and demons haunting the poor family’s farm house making even more frequent appearances, which meant more jump scares. You sidled closer and closer to Mark, desperate to cling onto anything. He sensed your distress and calmly put a comforting arm around your shoulders, rubbing your arm soothingly. You buried your head into his shirt, plugging your ears with your fingers as another scream ripped through the speakers of the theater.
You heard Mark from above whisper, “It’s okay ______, it’s a movie. I won’t let anything get you, okay? You’re fine.”
You felt your heart beat lower significantly and you relaxed into Mark’s arms, feeling much calmer. You could even hear his own heart beat through his thin shirt, steady and soothing. You’d always been jealous of Mark’s nonchalant and cool personality. But what you admired was his selflessness and how much he cared for those around him. He picked up on the mood better than anyone you knew and was always there for you when you were in a tight spot. Mark really was the big brother you had never had and you really appreciated his friendship.
The entire theater suddenly shook from a loud noise from the movie and caused you to practically rip Mark’s shirt off his smooth chest, “Jesus _____,” he cried softly as he grabbed you by the shoulders when you practically jumped into his lap out of fear.
“Jesus _____, is right,” a voice whispered, dangerously quiet, above the gasps from the other people. “What the hell do you think you’re doing Mark?”
You turned to see Jackson looking absolutely furious, having returned from the bathroom and standing despite the angry comments from those viewing the movie. You were confused by his anger, “Jackson what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? Just look at yourself first of all,” he rolled his eyes, annoyed.
You realized the compromising position you and Mark were in, limbs tangles, your hands stretching his shirt out, his arm around your shoulders, your head buried into the crook of his neck. You gulped, instantly entangling yourself from your other friend, “Jackson-”
Mark interjected quickly, “Jackson, it’s not what you think at all. _____ got scared, so I was trying to help her and I’m not even sure how it ended like that, but it did.” Even Mark looked nervous now, “I know it looks bad, but all good intentions, I promise. You know I respect your relationship with _____. She’s like a sister to me, you know that.”
Jackson was having none of it, he had always been so stubborn, “Yeah well, if touching her like that is your definition of respect, then I’m afraid you need to check yourself again.” He grabbed your hand, his face full of jealousy as he wrenched you from your seat and led you out of the theater through the nearest red exit sign.
You found yourself in the side ally of the popular downtown theater, graffiti decorating the faded red brick. It was early spring and a chill still held in the air. You shivered, regretting when you had taken off your sweater in the theater. You wrapped your arms around yourself to grasp for the little warmth they offered you.
You whirled around at Jackson, seething, “Jackson that was a real dick move back there. Mark-”
Jackson crushed his lips to yours, cutting of your sentence. He possessively cupped your face, drawing you closer to him so that your chests brushed against one another, “Don’t you dare say his name again.”
You rose from the kiss, dazed as your lips throbbed with need for him again. You snapped back into reality, “Jackson Wang, you are being ridiculous. I can say the name of our best friend as many times as I want.”
Jackson’s dark eyes were glinting darkly as he growled, “Go ahead. I dare you. We’ll see what happens when you do.”
Your breath hitched in your throat when you saw the raw jealousy bubbling below his handsome features. You’d never seen him so upset before nor this possessive. It pissed you off and aroused you to see him acting this protective of you, “Alright then. Mark, Mark, Mark-”
You felt the wind in your lungs escape with a whoosh as Jackson caged you against the alley wall. His hands bruised your hips as he attached his lips to your sensitive neck. You choked out a moan that mixed with a sob, letting your hands travel up his back and settle in his hair. You’d already given up fighting him, you were his for the taking and all you wanted was for him to take what was his.
He kissed a line up your jaw before roughly dragging your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper. He released your hips and pressed his hands against the wall behind you, his body away from your touch. He whispered breathily against your lips, “Who’s name were you going to say again?”
You felt frustrated tears pooling in your eyes. How easily he could make you want him; you whispered achingly, “Yours.”
He lifted a finger and traced from your temple, down your cheek and neck, before tracing round the curve of your breast, “Who’s name?”
You practically shook, the only thing keeping you steady was the cold brick behind you. The tears slipped down your cheek as you moaned, “Yours.”
Jackson visibly shivered from your response, his hands coming up to brush the tear falling on your cheek. A hard glint still held in his eyes although his body had relaxed. Your knees knocked together as he looked you up and down, his lashes brushing against his cheeks as he pulled you close to him, his arms winding around you protectively. You buried yourself into his hard chest, savoring his scent and touch as his warm, calloused hands slipped under your shirt and his thumbs drew hypnotic circles on your hips.
He kissed you languidly, a smirk drawing on his lips, his eyes like shadows, “What’s my name? Say my name, ______.”
You pressed yourself against his hips, feeling his half hard member against your stomach, “Jackson.” You needed him desperately, he’d left you in such a state that you didn’t care if people on the busy city street could see him fucking your brains out, you needed him now.
You gasped when he slipped his hand down to rub at your jean clad center, the rough material stimulating your clit. You bucked against his hand and he let you, a smirk on his face, “That’s right baby girl. I’m the one making you feel this way, no one else. Isn’t that right?”
You grabbed onto his shoulders to get leverage when he wedged a thick thigh between your legs, allowing you to ride his leg. Your voice shook as you buried your face deeper into his shirt, “Y-yes. Fuck.”
He backed up against the alley wall, his hands grabbing at your ass as he lifted you up until your feet barely brushed the ground. Jackson bit his lip painfully hard as he squeezed your ass with each thrust you gave, “Fuck, baby. Do you wanna ride my dick like this too?”
You could barely choke out an answer, the pleasure of your tight skinny jeans rubbing you was almost too much. He grabbed your hips and forced you to slow down, a smile on his lips as he saw how desperate you were for release, “Come on baby girl, you can’t already be that close.”
You let out a strangled growl, thrashing in his grasp, “Jackson Wang if you don’t let me fucking come-
He hushed you, still grinning at your furious behavior, "Don’t worry baby, there will be plenty of fucking and coming, soon enough.” He carefully set you down on the ground again, making a show of taking his belt off. Each clink it made set you on edge and if you weren’t scared of him suddenly not going through with it, you would have ripped all his clothes of already.
As soon as he finished, you raked your nails over his toned stomach, feeling each solid indention of his abs. He was so incredibly god-like and sexy you could hardly stand it. You moaned, not caring that you were inflating his ego. He knew you couldn’t resist anything about him, particularly his voice and body, and you weren’t afraid to admit that. As long as you got a reward that is. He smiled brilliantly, nibbling on his bottom lip as you kissed his chest through his shirt, “Oh baby girl, I so wish we were at home right now.”
Any morals and standards you had previously were now gone. You peppered his neck with open mouthed kisses and sucks, “Who cares? You can fuck me anywhere Jackson.”
He laughed, but it was lusty as he replied, “Don’t tempt me ______.”
You were getting impatient, so you reached down and felt for Jackson’s zipper. The wetness in between your legs had literally soaked through your jeans by now, you needed him so bad it hurt. You groaned, palming him through his briefs, “Baby please.”
Jackson smirked, his voice husky, “Of course, anything for you.” He added as an afterthought, his hands running up your sides, “But you asked for it.” He pressed you against the wall in the shadowy alley, blocking out everything but him.
You hurriedly unbuttoned your own jeans, sliding them down your legs faster than you’d ever done before. You went to pull your panties down, but Jackson stopped your hands, “Don’t. You know how much I love ripping them off your body, baby girl.”
You shivered, nodding as he grabbed the sides of your panties and tore them off your body, making easy work of the dainty material. You gasped, as Jackson pushed you against the wall, his hard member already pressing against your dripping folds. He growled, a wolfish grin spreading across his features as he watched your squirm, “Oh baby girl, people from three blocks away are going to know that I’m fucking you up against a wall.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging at the hair at the back of his neck impatiently, “Jackson, please!”
He smiled almost sweetly and it looked like normal Jackson’s, but it was laced with desire and possessiveness. He thrust so hard into you that your head knocked against the brick wall painfully from the sheer force, but you honestly didn’t care and he didn’t either. With each snap of his hips, obscene noises escaped your lips and he wasn’t concerned with quieting you down, “That’s right baby, let them know who’s fucking you.”
He was bouncing you so hard on his dick, that you were afraid you would bite your tongue if you spoke. The only word you could choke out was his name, “Jackson!”
Jackson’s eyes were locked on your face, watching your changing expressions with lust. He raked his hands up and down your sides, tearing his fingertips across your hot skin, “Fuck, baby girl. Uh! Just like that!”
You couldn’t stand the sound of his voice praising you, it sent delicious feelings straight to your abused womanhood. You bucked your hips into his, savoring the smack of skin against skin. You were so aroused from fucking into his thigh earlier that you were already close to coming.
“Jackson,” you moaned, “I’m so fucking close!”
Jackson groaned, his dick twitching as he grew close too, “Who’s fucking you right now?” He slowed down, making you practically wail in frustration. “Say my fucking name, _____.”
You beat your fists against his chest in frustration, raking your nails down his shirt, and bucking into him furiously. You hated and loved the way he made you beg for it, it was sweet torture. You happily gave in, moaning his name desperately, “Jackson!…”
He bit his lip and sped his pace up, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic. Each snap of his hips felt like one step closer and closer to your release. His moans after each time he plunged into you were so sinful, you’re sure that if you would be blushing if you could. Jackson reached down and managed to rub your clit, the feeling just enough to send you over the edge. Your release hit you harder than you could remember, your legs shaking from the amount of pleasure that coursed through you. You walls suddenly clenched surprisingly tightly around his member and he gave a growl as he came inside you suddenly, “Holy fuck, _____!"
The both of you rode out your highs, grins plastered on your faces as you winded down. Jackson slumped against you, pinning you with his body to the wall as he held you close. He kissed your cheek sweetly, a content smile on his slightly bruised lips, "That was amazing.”
You still didn’t understand how he snapped from this Jackson, to that Jackson. It was like a light switch, but you honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. You ran your fingers through his hair, straightening it from its disheveled appearance, “I love you, Jackson.”
He looked surprised, but it was just a slight widening of his warm brown eyes and shy smile that you realized it was wonder instead. He whispered back softly, every word spoken like they were only meant for you, “I love you too, _____. You’re everything."
He sounded so innocent that you giggled as he placed you gently back on the ground, retrieving the sad remains of your panties and jeans. Jackson sheepishly handed you your underwear, "Sorry, they’re uh…”
You held the ruined piece of cloth up to the dim lighting before tossing them in the nearest trash can, “Worth it.” You slipped on your jeans and Jackson laughed loudly, tightening his belt without looking. He loved to see the way you looked and moved after having sex with him. The gingerly way you pulled your pants up over your sore hips, the way you look so satisfied and content. He loved it more than he cared to admit.
“Hey, babe? I think we should go find Mark, so you can apologize to him,” you gave him a stern look, to which he replied with a pitiful pout.
The two of you waited the rest of the movie in the lobby, already feeling guilty. Mark must have figured out what the two of you had been doing already and it made you blush red. Jackson stood up suddenly when a crowd of people flooded into the lobby, “There he is.”
You stood too, immediately finding Mark among the people. To your surprise he looked completely unperturbed when he saw the two of you and headed straight your way.
Jackson took a deep breath and began, “Look man, I know you know-”
Mark sighed, passing a hand over his face in fatigue, “Save it dude. I really don’t care anymore as long as you’re not mad at me. I totally get it and can understand why you were mad.”
Jackson visibly relaxed, slinging an arm around Mark, “This is why you’re my favorite.” You pouted playfully, nudging your way in between them, to which they welcomed you, resting their arms around your shoulders.
Mark looked down at you cheekily, winking, “Oh. I thought I’d just mention to you that I’m pretty sure everyone in the movie theater knows Jackson’s name now. You done good, _____.”
You blushed, but laughed goodnaturedly, “Someone’s gotta tell them.” You weren’t at all ashamed, in fact, you were a little proud to say the least.
Jackson nuzzled into your neck, kissing you gently, “Maybe next time they can learn your name, babe. If ya know what I mean,” he grinned, biting his lip and giving you an exaggerated once over.
You elbowed him in the side, smiling, “Only if you’re a good boy.”
“He says everything he’s thinking! I mean, what kind of game is he playing at? What is he doing?”
Reyna gave him a dry look, “Are you seriously complaining about this right now?”
Nico heaved out a breath, ignoring her entirely. “Who says that! ‘I like it when you smile’ like, what the fuck!” Nico buried his face in his hands, “Like, sure, he looks hot as hell when he smiles too but I’m not going fucking tell him that!”
Reyna was examining her nails with ruthless scrutiny, picking out pieces of dirt occasionally with her knife-turned-nail file. “And why not?”
Nico glared at her, “Because that’s not what people do.”
She hummed, seemingly paying him no attention. “Apparently, it’s what Will Solace does.”
“Fucking apparently.” Nico growled, throwing himself onto his cot. His face now buried in a pillow, his voice was muffled as he said, “I can’t believe this is my life.”
Reyna leaned in closer, her hand coming to pat his back. “Don’t worry, I remember what it was like being twelve and having my first crush. How’s puberty coming along?”
Nico’s only response was sputtering in embarrassment for several long minutes.
a good place to start | inspired by this post (”…just??? isabelle lightwood not having to know exactly who she is and what she wants, being allowed to be unsure and taking time to figure herself out, because she tries so hard to be everything for everyone but herself and it seems unlikely to me that she’d just hit puberty and immediately come out with full confidence about her sexuality.”)
It started with a girl without a name, or at least, Isabelle
had never learned it.
Izzy was 17 and she had just finished a patrol with her
brothers. She convinced them to go with her to a club, Jace agreed because he
wanted to go, and Alec would never leave them unprotected. (“We can take care
of ourselves, Alec.” “I know, I’m still staying.”)
Jace was off flirting with some girl, Alec was standing at
the bar, and Izzy was dancing on her own in the crowd when she made eye contact
with a girl wearing a little black dress, her hair wild, her make up smudged,
but her eyes shined and her smile lit up her entire presence. The girl smiled
at Izzy and Izzy smiled back, suddenly feeling nervous, almost shy.
The girl walked towards her, confident and beautiful, and
just as she reached Izzy, the song switched to something even more upbeat and
the girl smiled wider and began to dance in front of Izzy, with Izzy. At some point the girl’s hands found their way to Izzy’s
hips and Izzy placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders. She doesn’t know how
many songs stopped and started as they danced; it felt like an entire separate
world was created within their arms. Which was why Izzy was so startled when
another girl appeared beside them, tapping the girl Izzy was dancing with on
the shoulder and pointing to the exit.
The girl nodded and turned to Izzy, gave her a small smile
before kissing her cheek and walking away.
I might be a bad person, but i got a mean satisfaction from the newest chapter. I guess the reaction of the scandal was as following: Phicit-"whoops, where did i put my shovel.." Chris-"That's it. My friend is a bona fide idiot who's definitely getting dumped. Well, good thing i have a stash of alcohol and sex toys." Yurio-"Adults are so fucked. Puberty pls don't come to me."
Yurio is pretty much warning puberty and adult feelings off with an iron cross at this point because he has to deal with Yakov ‘I’m bitter about my ex wife leaving me’ Feltsman, Georgi ‘Anya whhhhhhhyyyyyy’ Popovich and Viktor ‘emotional wreck’ Nikiforov and he’s like ‘don’t want any of that shit, stay away pls and thank you’
too many people forget that if Yuuri and Phichit lived together for about 4-5 years that means Phichit was a teenager when they met, no older than present day Yurio, and that that probably made Yuuri turn into the #momFriend when necessary
Yuuri’s entire “how to deal with a teen skater facing puberty” practice comes almost entirety from Phichit moving from awkward to way too straight forward and with 0 discretion over time; somehow Phichit was worse when it came to WiFi but Yurio is worse when it comes to fashion (or so Yuuri thinks and then he remembers that Phichit wore a space deemed outfit from head to toe unironically and he immediately decides that leopard print ain’t that bad)
There are people with gender dysphoria who transition and still feel dysphoria- I'm more than happy to consider people like that to be non-binary. They'd feel dysphoria either way, and forcing them to choose to identify as either male or female is cruel. Yes, some people are 'faking', but not all non-binary people are.
That would be down to the fact that we don’t yet have the technology to completely transform biology, so transitions aren’t always perfect. The sad and uncomfortable fact is that some trans people can pass better than others, and the passing or not affects that dysphoria.
Look at Blaire White versus Riley Dennis. Both on the same journey. Both about as far along in their transitions. And one clearly has a better time of passing than the other. And as much as I massively dislike what Dennis has to say, it’s genuinely awful that she has a harder time of it. That isn’t her fault at all. She’s doing all that she can, and it really just sucks. I feel bad for her.
I think it’s much more cruel to look at someone who’s trans, who’s transitioned to the best of their ability (and as their health allows them) and then say to them, “Aww, hey, you’re not really male/female, but somewhere in between and I’m totally happy to accept that.”
No. It’s horrible that they still feel dysphoria. But I’m not going to deliberately trigger any more dysphoria by seeing them as anything other than the man or woman that their dysphoria tells them that they are. Because that’s a massive insult and disservice to them, as far as I’m concerned.
I know that you mean well. I really do. But there are other trans people that others often forget – myself included, to be totally honest. There are those that transition and they still fight dysphoria. But there are also others that detransition because transitioning wasn’t right for them, and they do their best to work through their dysphoria in a different way. They decide, on their own, to hold on to their biological sex as their gender, and I can’t even imagine how damaging it would be to use your kind of reasoning with them.
I can’t honestly tell you that I think that it’s right to invent a new gender because technology isn’t currently where it should ideally be.
And, for the record, since I think people overlook this when I say it, and maybe I haven’t been clear enough, but there are plenty of reasons for “non-fakers” to claim being “non binary” when they’re absolutely not – but they’re convinced that they are because they’re either naive or they’ve been hurt or they have another issue. Like:
Being convinced that gender presentation is gender
Being convinced that gender stereotypes are gender
Being convinced that difficult symptoms of puberty are signs of dysphoria
Not coming to terms with being trans
Being convinced that unless dysphoria is non-stop, 24/7 suffering with every part of themselves, they’re not “fully trans”
Having an eating disorder
Having body dysmorphia
Being a sexual abuse survivor
Being a survivor of serious sexism
Being a survivor of serious bullying
and I’m positive that that’s not an exhaustive list.
So, no, I don’t accept “non binary” as being a real thing outside of maybe a word to describe a specific style of personal aesthetic. But that doesn’t mean that I automatically hate the people that use it.
I’m frustrated and angry when it comes to the blatant fakers that are just doing it for attention, the ones that manipulate others into believing something that’s not true. But I don’t hate those that have been conned into it. I don’t hate the confused etc. I just think that it’s important to be open and be honest about things like this because you’ll end up with trans people who don’t go for the help that they need, which will end up harming them, and the cis people who go for the help that they don’t need which really will end up giving them genuine dysphoria.
I’ve said it before. I could very easily call myself “non binary” if I used any of Tumblr’s posts describing it, from the fakers’ lists to the most well-meaning people, and I’m totally cis. And that is a really, really bad thing.
2nd year (high school)
Height: 175 cm (about 5’7”)
Birthday: July 7
Club: Going home club
parents are both working so I’m taking care of my younger sister ever since we
were little. Because my sister loves My Melody, I have come to love it too. I was worried that my relationship with my sister, who has hit puberty (those days, her boyfriend comes over), wasn’t that good. I had spent each day playing with
girls halfheartedly. At that time, I met Kouta, who supported me as a friend. I
gradually was able to scold my younger sister and face her properly. It’s like I
acquired strength from myself who loves My Melody. If I try to appeal to women then
it’s because I have the temperament of a brother who takes care of his little
T/N: Not too sure about the last statement. That’s the trickiest to translate (;´□｀) But would you look at that. This dork is a siscon. Happy Late Valentines!
If the X-men's mutations become evident around puberty, how come there are so many little x-men who already have their abilities?
Charles: We’ve found that most mutations are becoming evident at birth as of recently. Sadly that also means an increase of–well, younger students. Some who’ve been with us since infancy if you understand what I mean.
Anna, after the failure at the World Championships who found the most correct words for you?
– Coaches. They said: “You should go and sleep, tomorrow will be a new day.”
Perhaps you could not fall asleep?
– I managed to sleep, but I didn’t manage to forget at all about what happened. Of course, this is impossible.
And the reason of this failure is clear?
– There are a lot of them, they are different, but I do not know which was the main. And how can I know? I can only guess, which I do not like. The main thing is that we try to get rid of these problems at trainings. This is sport, this is life everything is possible.
– I do not think so.
– I wouldn’t name my technique as a problem. According to coaches’ I was prepared very well.
Have the past season taught you something?
– The season was summed up in Helsinki, and there, at the last competition, I again came to the familiar conclusion:do not stop working.
During the season it seemed that everything was brought to normal and stabilized.
– But I didn’t have such thoughts. I will not say that I was confident.
Turns out you didn’t reach the state “I can do everything”?
– I know that I can work. I know that everything is possible, but to set myself to the fact that I’m perfect … I’m not perfect, but I can correct many of my weaknesses.
During that ill-fated performance at the World Championships it seemed that you wanted give up right there on the ice.
– No, it wasn’t like that.
But there was a sad pause.
– Pause – yes. Inhale – exhale and let’s continue.
When you finished the program you fell on the ice. Because of the lack of moral strength or resentment?
– I don’t remember already.
Next season’s programs will be no less dramatic?
– We think about it, but we can not say for sure yet. We haven’t decided on music and artistic image yet.
Couldn’t the drama both in short and free program pressure you to much?
– No, because the music itself was not exciting. Last year’s “Bolero” in the short excited me more. My main criterion – I must feel the music.
What kind of music you don’t feel?
– A lot of. I do not feel weak sounds, I love a strong voice. Music can be melodic and beautiful, but something is still will be wrong. I rejected quite a lot, there were so mamy that I did not even remember how many and which one.
A recognized classical music by a great composer could be weak?
– I have a different perception, I do not like to take what others had. That’s why, Anna Vladimirovna (Tsareva) suggested music with vocals for the free program. Very strong voice, which almost no one heard. A win-win criterion. The killing of two birds with one stone.
I heard a melody from your short program playing by a street violinist in the underground passage at the Park of Culture.
– A lot of people know the short, but the free, especially the part which in the middle, is a rarity.
At the end you have a requiem, with which Oksana Grishuk and Evgeni Platov triumphed at OG-1998 in Nagano.
– Yes, I know.
Tatiana Tarasova did this program. Didn’t you discuss the requiem part?
– When we were in Sochi in September, she worked on both short program and free program. And she paid special attention to this very last part. The big bet is made on this part. We have to get the audience, do something that will set us apart from the other competitors.
Tatyana Anatolyevna is famous for precise phrasing.
– In my case, she played not with phrase, but with added element. I do a spiral, then do steps near the board and there happens a music change. From the second to the third part – the final, the one that should captivate the viewers. The one where I really need to feel the accent. And there Tatyana Anatolyevna added a quite usual jump jump – not even a split, but it instantly made the transition to the final part brighter. It helps us to convey the idea of our work. In my opinion, the viewer understands us.
Transition to requiem it’s when you slowly and stately skate backward, doing steps….
– gaining speed for the spiral, yes this moment.
From the same step Grishuk and Platov started their program.
– We did not take it from them. I have never copied other people’s programs. This step is beautiful itself and very simple in execution.
You reminded me of the “Russian split jump” that Sasha Cohen did, but which has already died as a popular phenomenon? Is it too difficult?
– No, this element is not difficult at all, you can work on it. Jason Brown does it. It’s a “wow”!
But except for Jason, no one came to mind, besides, Brown does not claim for serious results.
– A new level is jumps in combination, all attention is focused on them.
What would you like add to your artistry?
– Simply more polishing. Every gesture I want to make even softer, even it’s already good. If the gesture is sharp, I want it to be sharper. There must be a “point” in the element. Arms and feet should be synchronised, moves should be finished and you need to feel it. Like the emotions on the face. All my choreographers Misha Ge, Kolya Morozov and Viktor Adoniev advise me in this.
Morozov is deeply engaged in ice dance, how often did you work with him this season?
– He invited me somehow to Novogorsk, but I could not come, but we met at the Russian Championship. I hope Kolya is happy with what I’m showing on the ice. He said “Well done”, but we have not analyzed my performances in details yet.
Maxim Kovtun told me that for the last year’s performance Peter Tchernyshev advised him to learn facial expressions on the on the example of Mikhail Baryshnikov.
– This season I understand both my artistic images, after all I skate tango again, which I love and dance since childhood.
– Very much. I grow up, my views change, I discover a lot. What is tango in childhood? Coach choreographed and you skate it. Just moves. As I grew up, I began to invest myself into a dance. After all everyone imagines it in his own way. The tango of 2014, with which I first flew to the World Championships, is incomparable with the dance of 2017.
Is it a symbol of a strong woman?
– Yes, but this woman is me. I still skate like with a partner. I took lessons, to have a feeling of man in dance, and then went on the ice alone, but my arms, back, body, legs move in such a tact, like the man is next to me. Once I saw a dancer performing a tango. He was half dressed like a man, half like a woman. He danced as like in pair, but in fact – with himself. It was very beautiful and very interesting. You look – one, but you realize that it’s a pair.
But it’s still unusual?
– I have been on the ice for so many years that I feel ok alone on it, even with the feeling of a virtual partner. I worked a lot with Misha Ge, who knows how to do hands in tango, and this formed a whole image. I really liked (Alexander) Zhulin with his partner in the same tango, but they had a restrained one. The ideal tango for me it’s like in movie “Scent of a woman” But there it is also restrained. Passion, but to a certain point. I keep this “point” in the program for some time but then everything goes beyond. Tango in hip-hop, but without hip-hop moves. This is primarily a tango, but a little bit beyond it. Even more passion and energy, which I give to the public and the judges. Well, you saw the end of the program. It’s interesting for me when something classical have the note of freedom. I prefer casual style in clothes, but I adore classics, because I know: it suits me.
Isn’t tango conveyed better on stage or ice when passions run high in personal life?
– Absolutely not. There were no passions in childhood for example.
But there should be some worries?
– There are always some worries, let it be worries, for example, when I forgot to feed the cat. Sometimes I worry about my brother when he has exams. I have a father, a mother … But sporting worries do not intersect with family. My brother understands perfectly that I am engaged in figure skating, and doesn’t interfere in this sphere. He does chemistry, and I do not bother him either. Thank God, he does not put experiments at home. We know well that we do not understand each other, but we worry for each other.
Does tango affect your life posture?
– I don’t become more daring. I’m one on thice, different at physical trainings and also different in life. I do not want to hurt anyone because of my sport. I’ve never been spineless, but I’m working on myself not to be insolent. I’m not any like that with my frieneds, and of course not with my family. I can take it out on my brother but only as a joke.
Is Russian Nationals strongly “refreshing” when with 215 points you don’t get on the podium.
At first you had two competitors, then five, now – ten.
– Well all 18 are competitors, after all, all skate clean. So what’s the point for me to worry?
Don’t you have a feeling that representing some other country you would be in the top?
– I’m already in the top.
In the very-very top?
– What’s the point to represent a country with no competition? My rivals are pushing me forward.
Alina Zagitova, who won the silver at the National Championship being 14 years old, did she push you strongly?
– No. I do not care.
– The situation in general. The fact that competitors are simply exists.
When young girls come, it’s easier for them to coordinate.
– That is the problem. While they are all small, it’s easy for them. But then puberty comes – and that’s all, different sorts of things will begin.
Seemed your have grown up steadily.
– I had to work very hard for it to seem so. A centimeter of height and already something is not right. Plus a year and it’s already harder, two years – more! Therefore, we have to adapt the technique to make it possible to jump with changes in the body. And you have to think and plan more. Now I don’t grow up in height any more, if from 14 to 16-17 I was growing up physically, then after 16 I’m growing up mentally. How the child thinks – to go on the ice and do everything quickly. All you need to do, it’s to do what your coach says. And now you understand that you represent a country, that the audience applaud for a reason. And this requires additional efforts to keep the balance.
Do you have enough coaching staff to make progress?
– I work not only with Anna Vladimirovna, but also with Artem Punin, and with Mikhail Panarin on physical trainings, on acting with Margarita Bugaeva, on choreography with Maria Alexandrovna Borisova. I have a whole team of specialists.
So there’s no questions about change of coach?
Earlier you said that there is almost no difference in points between the combinations “lutz – loop” and “lutz-toe loop”, but has the situation changed with current serious level competition?
– The two points that separate these elements, in fact, have a great importance, but I will not say that “lutz – loop” is difficult. If you work on it, it will be even easier than “lutz-toe loop”. This is a conversation from the same series: you jump with an arm over the head or without it. Everyone is trying to do lutz or flip, choreographically stretching his arm overhead, and this, in the end, it becomes uninteresting. Although it’s beautiful and brings some +GOE.
Serafima Sakhanovich told that it’s more convinient for her to jump with arms overhead.
– See, and I don’t see any sense in this.
Alexei Mishin focus on the difficulty and power of the jump. They Wait the awakening of Elizaveta’s triple axel …
– He is the master in this field. I also want everything, but gradually. I tried the axel in three and a half turns, however, landed it half-turned. The worst thing about it is an entry. You wrap yourself in it and do not know in what kind of abyss you’ll fly away. It’s like jumping with a parachute and you think: will it open up or not? Plus one revolution is a new feeling, unfamiliar. Where to open? Where to close? .. But now is not the time to think much about that.
Who is your idol in figure skating?
– Carolina Kostner, I like her skating skills.
To mention Costner it’s a win-win option.
– But why? She has worked for a very long time to achieve such a skating, but the thing is, you can’t do everything on ice just by working hard.
What you can’t do?
– There’s nothing impossible for me.
What are you dream of?
– Spread eagle.
I’ve read about it.
– Coaches work on my program, someone says: “Let’s put some cool thing here”. “A spread eagle!” – someone says immediately. “She can’t …”, answers the one who knows me very well. And there comes silence.
I noticed your photo in Instagram with the signature “I’m swimming into my dream”.
– I wrote it before going to bed. I dive into a real water in a real long dress in real figure skates. I could agree only on such photo shoot during thes season. After all, usually such activities take away a lot of energy, but I did not refuse to dive under the water in skates. The biggest problem was to find some skates you won’t afraid to spoil. I found someone else’s, a bit broken. I wore a dress and dived. Eyes saw only blue tiles, it was warm. I did not want to get out. Interesting that the skates then dried up and became like new ones.
You love photo shoots, but never fold your lips according to the trend.
– Like a duck? Although I have a fully right to do this, given the features of my lips. I like natural images, I’m pro natural beauty. On the photo, it’s important to pose to look aesthetically pleasing, but you need to feel relaxed.
Evgenia Medvedeva created her own line of sportswear. Do you have any similar ideas?
– Now I do not have an exact idea about the future. I think that if you start some business, you need to treat it scrupulously, know all the details in order to be able to do something unusual. I’ve thought a lot about what I want to do, but after figure skating. Starting from cooking, finishing with design. I like to sew something to my jeans and experiment in the kitchen. Just not before the competition and so that nothing on the stove burn or explode.
I have not been exactly….genial about Bendis’s Miles Morales run. While I love that the man created probably the most detailed origin story for the character, I hate that he misses opportunities to underly what makes Miles Morales special to begin with: his supporting characters. Bendis during his Miles Morales run has been met with meta-hindrances that forces the narrative down an unwanted tunnel in order to fill a need. Because he is not exactly masterful at shifting his narrative to fit these in, a lot of Miles’ characterization that would have came without said hindrances gets shafted.
For example, when Cataclysm happened in the Ultimate Universe, Bendis had seemingly rushed Miles development in order to fill in for the oncoming prospect of Miles joining the newly formed Ultimates. He wildly introduced or re-introduced characters to the story again while forsaking Miles’ development as a character in which felt half-assed and even left an unsavory aesop to it all. Bendis also kept forsaking Miles’ development as a character for Peter’s resurrection, Secret Wars, the inevitable restructuring of the Marvel Universe that happened after Secret Wars, Civil War II, and more recently the crossover with Spider-Gwen.
Miles Morales is underdeveloped as a character. And I am not even mentioning the out of place commentary that Bendis began to delve into about race and privilege, and his constant minimizing of Miles’ culture and how he can’t seem to write from a young black kid from Brooklyn’s perspective without the character sounding like a white boy.
Okay, I mentioned it, but whatever.
Spider-man #15-16 is a breathe of fresh air and a reminder as to what made Bendis’s Ultimate Spider-man run so great to begin with: Bendis focuses on the little things that make Spider-man “Spider-man. He understood that the Spider-bite was an allegory of puberty and a coming of age and that being a hero and managing responsibilities are hectic. Whether it is managing grades in school or worrying about the next super-villain, Spider-man was the codifier of ordinary person becoming a super hero. And Bendis missed a mark for half of his Miles run because he failed to create the same things he did for Peter before him.
But after what seems to be a long time, Spider-man gets human again and starts focusing on itself.
Rio Morales has always been a tertiary character whose only characterization is that she is Miles’ mom. So I am glad that she finally starts to get involved in these issues.
One of Bendis’ staples of writing these “super hero reveals his secret identity to loved ones” is that Bendis is of the philosophy that parents will never be okay that their kids are keeping this secret. “Oh, so you lied to me for all of these years and expect me to be okay with it?” He did the same thing in the original Ultimate Spider-man when Aunt May found out about Peter’s secret. I am also personally of the philosophy that if you are engaging in dangerous vigilante work, you might as well tell your significant other and let them in on the danger because not telling them could lead to a Gwen Stacey scenario or them being justifiably infuriated that you lied. Just tell them the truth if you love them.
This is culmination of Rio being left out of the loop. She feels disconnected from not just her son’s life, but her husband’s because a secret they deliberately kept from her leaving her to worry about just what in the fuck is going on with Miles. This is a nice bit of rare continuity from Bendis is appreciated because it gets right back on track to the subplot that has been brewing since before Civil War II that was derailed because of the aforementioned event.
This is the first time we have seen actual character from Rio outside of loving and doting mom. She is thrusted into the same position that you would expect a mom to react to hearing all of this. She is angry and this scene(that encapsulated the whole book, mind you) highlights Bendis’s strength of making the seeming mundane important and character building. A family disagreement usually is about something much greater in comic books. Bendis knows that deep down, punching people in the face and beating up bad guys is not what Spider-man is all-about. It is the internal strife of being a human and the responsibilities of those that make him the most popular super hero of our times. And it is nice to know that Bendis remembered as well.
What makes Miles stand out as Spider-man is these little discussions that he has with his family and friends. These little heart to heart remind us that Miles has people who care about him and has people he speaks to about shit. tThe scene also serves as a bit of fan service because this is the same park where Miles discussed his dad’s past with his father and also reconciled with his father. This parallel with Rio and Jefferson is much appreciated because even he was not initially okay with Miles being Spider-man.
And this frustration that Miles has is encapsulated when he becomes Spider-man. He is disillusioned. He is angry. And he feels like he let his mom down. So he in classic Spider-man style goes on a tear.
He isn’t snarking. There are no quips. He is pissed and lost control of himself which is a nice call back to one of Miles’ greatest fears:losing control.
These issues highlighted a return to form for Bendis. Hopefully it won’t get derailed by the hellfire that is Secret Empire, but I doubt it.
Oh and also…
Ganke refers to himself as Ned and is the greatest pimp of all the time.
heads up, it is very long. true be I wanted to write one incredibly long piece rather than maybe three shorter ones where I lose interest over time if that makes sense?
this was requested by an anon so thank you! it is about the reader being 18 and dan his current age yet they start to fall in love.
in no way am I enforcing this sort of relationship, I know couples have age gaps but you never know who someone actually is or their intentions etc- remember this is fiction, don’t take this into real life :) (I know the majority of people know this already, its just a reminder)
Neither of us expected this, but they say expect the unexpected. My version of the unexpected comes in the form of a blue eyed sweetheart named Dan, who I thought was just another person passing by. I didn’t expect attachment nor did I think about the way my heart would flutter with joy whenever he smiled.
But above all else, I didn’t think about the frowns that we’d receive because of it.
Growing up I never thought about the first twelve years of my life being so significant. In twelve years you grow, you develop skills and are educated. Aged twelve I began high school, I knew puberty was coming along with other responsibilities. Now looking back, twelve years feels like a hefty amount to walk around with.
I needed to escape from the stress of studies and craved serenity more than anything else. My feet led me to a place I didn’t think I wanted to be at; the beach. Walking along the sand ridden tiles I placed myself on the rocky wall, the sand about a metre from my tip toes leaving my legs dangling aimlessly. Picking my camera up in my hands I began to take a few shots, some of the sea, some of the old fashioned pier. Most seemed pretty amateuristic, I didn’t expect much, but something more.
That’s when the unexpected occured.
Continuing to hide my face with the width of my camera my left eye remained focused in the viewfinder observing the lives of those having a morning out by the beach, not so much of the seaside. Seagulls swarmed on rubbish, any scraps they could find whilst children squealed into their parents’ arms, the amount of love they emitted was undeniable. Just as I put pressure onto the button a blur crossed in front of it.
Pulling the camera away I brought the picture up, sighing as I saw the sight of it. You could barely make out the mother and son in the background as a mess of hair and blue jacket blurred across two thirds of the photo. “Oh, did I get in the shot?” Someone hesitantly called out from the right of me.
As I lifted my head up I wasn’t sure what I expected, all I know is that I felt different as I focused on him. I remember noticing the small smile form into something bigger, a sweeter grin amongst the light stubble around his jaw and above his lips. My mum always told me when she was younger she’d focus on a man’s eyes first, that those were the most attractive aspect before his persona.
All I can say is my Mum was right, as per usual. Within all eighteen years of my life there are various shades of blue I’d experienced, most of them could be limited down to the colour of the sky or the distorted seas across the world or the vivid blue of a bottle of shots soon to be demolished. Yet his weren’t the sort to pin point, to sort into a little box and label them as that particular shade of blue. His eyes were rimmed with a soft cool blue, full of care, wisdom and knowledge. In the centre of his iris’ the blue varied but blended seamlessly, the sort of eyes that are too enticing, I fell at a loss for words and he sensed.
Glancing down to my camera I could feel the heat floating to the surface of my cheeks, “Yeah, but it’s alright. I’m not doing anything with these photos it’s just to pass the time.” I explained and slowly lifted my head up as I was unable to ignore the increased thumping of my heart hitting my chest with too much force.
He was still wearing that smile, “Can I take a look?” I heard him stutter as he bit his lip, the glint fading amongst nerves in his eyes.
Replying with a small nod I heard a light grunt as he forced himself up onto the wall next to me, the denim of his jacket brushing across my light summer top. Leaning down the top of his slicked back hair crossed my face, making me chuckle lightly. “Okay but please be careful. If you try and steal this I am wearing appropriate footwear.” I joked and he glanced down to my shoes.
“You’d probably catch me anyway, especially on a beach.” He was quick to reply, which was different. Reaching into his pocket he grabbed a pair of glasses, slipping them on he rested his arm across my thigh and examined the photos I showed him. “You’ve got some talent.” It was a genuine comment, it didn’t sound like the fake enthusiasm I’d heard too many times before. “Do you do this often, like in between day to day life?” Sitting back up opposite me he was engaged entirely in what I had to say.
Placing the camera strap back around my neck I turn it off, putting the lens cap back on and rested my hands against the rough rock, pondering momentarily on how best to reply. “When I’m not in uni I like to find some time, even if it’s an early Thursday morning to just not think.” I focus on the sea rather than him, the slow rolling of the waves grouping together to create something with more force. “Sometimes I end up going back home, visiting family. The majority of the time I come somewhere like this, where I can get a bit of peace- no student drama, no stress, just see life.”
He remained quiet, at calm listening to me. Something I haven’t experienced since I was at home with my old friends, staying up late to just hear what we had to say without interruptions. “So you’re at university? What’re you studying?” Shuffling a little bit closer I could feel my heart screaming in my chest, his eyes boring into my soul.
“I’m a philosophy student.” I smile and the look changes, “What? Didn’t expect that of me, a stranger?” I question and he just looks away, deep with thought as he focuses on his sandy converse.
After a minute of listening to the seagulls wail he brings his legs up and hangs one over the ledge and one firmly on the pavement. “I just, I think it’s fascinating.” He struggles to find his words and avoids eye contact with me, nerves, not something I’ve seen from any guy in a while.
“You’re a bit shy natured aren’t you?” I ask and he responds with a light chuckle, taking his tortoise shell glasses off.
“Is it that obvious?” Raising an eyebrow to me I nod in response, making him reveal a toothy grin. “So, you know about Plato and Aristotle?” Again I nod, thinking how of all the days to explain my course today isn’t one of them.
“Do you want to go get some coffee, or tea or something? There is this little cafe I discovered down the road.” I suggest and he seems taken aback by my idea. The deer in headlights look in his eyes sinks my heart, forcing it into my stomach, suppressing all emotions. “I’m coming off too strong aren’t I? I try and be you know quiet or friendly but it sometimes doesn’t work out and you’d think I’d have it under control at eighteen but no I still-”
He cuts me off with his large hand covering mine, the difference in size making me smile. “I’d love to but,” He pauses and looks away from me, I can feel everything condensing inside of me, the rejection nearing. “you’re really sweet and I’d really like to get to know you better it’s just,” He was faltering, losing his words.
“Just what? I’m too bubbly, I’m coming off too keen?” I list, unable to ignore the unsettling feeling inside of me.
“You’re too young.” He sighs.
I remain quiet, silently taken aback by his comment. Turning my legs away from his I focus ahead, unsure how to process it all. Too young. The sort of thing your parent would tell you about rides at a theme park or when you want to know about how babies are made or wearing makeup. Never have I been told I’m too young for something other than naivety. Never has someone told me I can’t be associated to them because of my age.
“Oh.” I scoffed. “What are you one of those dads who is deceivingly young? Or a predator?” Sarcasm rolls off of my tongue as it naturally does in times of defense. “Nice try blue eyes.” Standing up he takes it, he wears a heavily look in his eyes, the blue clouding into a rain storm.
Walking away I can’t help but feel something, my heart aches in my chest as the feeling of rejection settles heavily. I could hear footsteps behind me, the paranoia settling in. “Wait.” A breathless call made me pause, I turned around to see him shrugging the denim sheepskin jacket off, holding it in his arm as he stopped in front of me. “I’m thirty.” I blankly stared at him, 30.
He didn’t look 30. He’d easily pass for being in his 20′s. How does a man age that well? No sign of wrinkles, of the burden of education or over drawn out hours at work settling under his eyes. “So, you’re twelve years older than me.” I let it settle in around us as I said it.
“See what I mean?” He states and I keep quiet, trying to think it through. “We, we’d be no good. Sure it’s just coffee now but then what? What if I end up liking you more than I already do. What if I want to learn more about the girl who studies philosophy and you want to know more about the guy you met on a beach? Then what?”
“We take it.” I declare to him. “We see what happens, so what? Age is just a number. I might like you, you might like me and we might want it enough to make it work. Coffee is just coffee, so,” Pausing I realise I don’t even know who he is, his name to identify him.
“I’m Dan, Dan Smith.” I smile, Dan Smith. It is written in his eyes, it fits him and who he is. I reply with my name, leaving out my middle name- if this guy is a catfish best leave my entire life private.