this again was another struggle with the text

Binary Star (V)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jaebum / Mark

Rating: PG

Word Count: 4,579

Summary: In some cases, these close binary systems can exchange mass, which may bring their evolution to stages that single stars cannot attain.”

You and Jaebum have been dating forever when Mark Tuan shows up in your classroom. You’ve always been against change - a bit debilitating, being a writer - but for some reason this new kid has you thinking there might be an upside to chaos.

Originally posted by igotsxven

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A Different Mask

Hi this is bad but I’m posting it anyway

The world of the Phantom Thieves was a hilly one. There were challenges and calm, dangers and warm moments. But all the Phantom Thieves had one thing in common: they went through their pain together. They had been there for each other when nobody else possibly could be. When one Thief couldn’t be there, there was always another to help with whatever pain one had. They were, as they say, thick as thieves. All the Phantom Thieves had reached one unconscious conclusion, as well: none of them had been through as much as their leader. They all agreed on it, even if they didn’t know it.

Akira Kurusu deserved the world.

The group would always be there for each other. Akira knew that fully well. Yet he never leaned on them when things got rough in his head. They all relied on each other, but Akira couldn’t bring himself to put his problems on their shoulders. Whenever his confidence wavered in a Palace, the team was always hyping him up. But that’s all they saw.

They didn’t see his emotions outside the Metaverse. Those were his only secret. They didn’t know about his nightmares. They didn’t know the reason he listened to all of their problems was so they didn’t end up like him. He wanted them to have someone to turn to. So he locked his feelings away to be the cool and collected leader he was. Supposedly.

He kept his trauma inside. He kept the anger he felt when his friends were taunted and teased contained. He tried to make the comments from the kids at Shujin go in one ear and out the other. Whenever someone looked at him with that look of disapproval, he oh so tried to shake it off. But it all made him have days where everything just felt… numb. Like nothing he did mattered. These days were the days he thought about betrayal. Where he thought about his friends leaving him behind. Abandoning him.

Akira Kurusu was scared.

Today was a day where his feelings slipped themselves into every crack of his thoughts they could find. They partially distracted him at school, made his comments to his friends sound half-hearted when he truly meant them, kept his responses to Sojiro short, and made him reluctantly obey Morgana when he told him to sleep.

“Hey, Akira, what’d you get on the third question of the test? I put B, but I’m not very confident in my answers,” Ann sighed, resting her head on her hand. She had her mouth in a pout with her genuine look of unconfidence.

“I got B, too,” Akira responded. He sounded uninterested, but he really wanted to boost Ann’s spirits.

“Oh, great!” Ann said with a smile. “That makes me feel better.”

She spun back around when the next teacher walked in the room. He didn’t miss her look of slight concern while she turned.

“Welcome back. How was school?” Sojiro asked when the bell rang above the door to LeBlanc.

“Good, as always,” Akira responded, it didn’t come out as he intended it to.

Sojiro just laughed softly, “An answer I’d expect from you.”

He frowned as Akira moved towards the stairs, absentmindedly wiping away at a glass.

“So, you ready to go to bed?” Morgana asked later.

“Yep,” Akira replied, sliding under the covers. “I’m tired.”

“For once,” Morgana said sarcastically. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Akira turned on his side and shut his eyes.

He didn’t see Morgana jump on the bed and give him a worried look. He just felt him curl up next to him and release a sigh.

Akira had a nightmare. He was back in Okumura’s Palace. A crowd of worker robots surrounded him and his friends. They had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. They fought and they fought to no avail. Akira had to watch as his friends fell around him, one by one.

Ann was bleeding from a wound on her head. Makoto’s arm was broken at the elbow, told by it’s odd angle. Yusuke was so beaten he couldn’t stand. Futaba was trapped outside the circle, not hurt but in danger. Morgana was struggling to stay conscious. Ryuji’s leg had given out on him due to the stress. Haru was standing mostly uninjured, but her father’s shadow was pestering her with “Okumura Daughter” duties. Akira was helpless he couldn’t do anything. He was exhausted. He fell to his knees.

“This is what brats like you get for meddling in the wrong business,” Okumura walked to Akira. “You get beat.”

There was a gun shot, but Akira missed it. He woke with a start. He was shaking. He felt lightheaded. He couldn’t focus. He pulled his knees to his chest and squeezed them tight. He didn’t notice Morgana stir next to him.

Morgana didn’t move. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to risk Akira’s panic getting worse. Instead he just pretended to shift in his sleep.

Akira’s shaky hand reached for the windowsill. He grabbed his phone and checked the group chat. Nobody had said anything since their final goodnights. He wanted to talk with someone, anyone. But who would be awake at this time of night? He gave in.

Akira: Is anyone awake?

Ryuji: yeah

Ann: yep

Futaba: mhm

Yusuke: Yes.

Haru: I am.

Makoto: So we’re all awake at this ungodly hour?

Ryuji: i couldnt sleep

Ann: Me neither

Ann: I keep falling asleep and waking up again

Haru: I get how you feel, I was just thinking of texting you all myself.

Yusuke: I am only awake because Futaba is keeping me up with her constant messaging.

Futaba: this is important stuff im sending you!

Yusuke: You are sending me pictures of foxes in costumes.

Futaba: EXACTLY

Makoto: So in one way or another… We all are having a struggle with sleeping.

Ryuji: thats what it looks like

Ryuji: aww man i wish we could meet up

Ryuji: im not even sure if i feel tired anymore

Ann: I mean, it’s almost 5, we could meet up anyways?

Makoto: When did everyone go to bed?

Ryuji: 10

Ann: 9:45

Haru: Nine ‘o clock.

Yusuke: Eleven

Akira: 10:30

Futaba: ive taken naps throughout the day so im not really tired

Makoto: I see.

Makoto: Well, I guess we all got reasonable hours of sleep.

Makoto: I will permit this once, and only because we are all in the same boat here.

Ryuji: all right!

Ann: Yes! I’ve always dreamed of doing something like this!

Yusuke: Where should we meet?

Ryuji: how about Akira’s place? is that ok? the place doesn’t open until 8, right?

Akira: Yeah, it should be fine.

Haru: What about Mona? Is he awake?

Akira poked the cat with his finger. His hand still felt slightly shaky, but he was calming. Morgana meowed in reply, but rolled onto his side to look up at Akira.

Akira: He’s up.

Futaba: Great! See you all there!

Akira sat his phone screen down on his bed. Morgana now laid on his stomach, his tail swishing around.

“What’s up?” he asked drowsily.

“Everyone’s coming over. No one could sleep except you,” Akira replied, semi-sarcastic.

“Ok, might wanna fix that bedhead of yours a bit, though,” Morgana replied.

Futaba was quick to hop onto Akira’s bed, sitting criss-cross for once. Ryuji sat on one end of the couch and Ann on the other, stretching her legs out across Ryuji’s lap. Makoto and Haru sat on the floor by the sofa. Yusuke simply took a chair.

“Man, I’m glad to be outta my house. There was no chance of me sleepin’ anymore,” Ryuji groaned.

“Every time I shut my eyes, they just wanted to open again,” Ann complained through a partial yawn.

“I would fall asleep for an hour at a time. It’s rare I sleep like that,” Haru shook her head.

“Do we all have something on our mind that’s keeping us up?” Makoto questioned why this was happening.

“Umm… not that I can think of,” Ann answered.

“There’s nothing that would keep me up at night except Futaba,” Yusuke commented.

“Shut it, Inari,” Futaba responded.

Akira fumbled for words. He ran a hand through his hair in thought. While the others maintained a steady conversation on sleep habits, Akira was lost in his thoughts. He wanted to tell them. He didn’t want to keep his emotions a secret anymore, they deserved to know. They cared about him and should know when he’s feeling down. But how could he start? He didn’t have to.

“Akira? You ok?” Morgana asked, tail swishing. “You look kind of out of it.”

“Now that he mentions it, ya do, dude. What’s up?” Ryuji is quick to follow up.

Akira hesitates, “There… There’s something I need to tell you all.”

Akira talked the most he had ever talked at once then. He told them about his nightmares of losing them and everything he’s ever known. He told them about his emotions building up and how he felt like crap on those certain days. He poured his heart out in a matter of minutes because he wanted to stop hiding this. He wanted to stop being scared. He talked about the trial and being sent to Tokyo by his parents and how it made him feel so… abandoned. Betrayed.

“Akira… You know you can talk to us, man,” Ryuji was frowning though he was definitely concerned.

“Yes, you will always be one of us,” Yusuke spoke, sitting on the edge of his seat.

“Mhm, text me whenever and I’ll be sure to respond!” Futaba nodded encouragingly.

“We will always be there for you, Akira,” Makoto had slid closer and placed a hand on his knee. “Wherever we may be, we will always be willing to talk.”

Akira felt his hands get shaky again. But there was no fear or panic this time, just relief. They still saw him as Joker, their leader. Their tactician. Their friend.

“I never would have known this affected you so much if you hadn’t told us,” Ann frowned guiltily.

“Yeah, I feel bad,” Ryuji looked sad. He faced Akira seriously. “Just worry about yourself, man, before you worry about what others say.”

“They don’t know you like we do, anyways,” Futaba added.

Akira nodded. His face was hot. He was struggling to keep his shaky hands under control. He felt tears welling behind his eyes. Why was he still trying to keep his emotions in?

“I’m glad you told us about this,” Haru smiled at him warmly.

“You can surely rely on us as much as we have relied on you, leader,” Yusuke says assuringly.

Futaba quickly hugged Akira’s arm when he began to cry. It ended up with all of the Phantom Thieves on or around his bed. Ann was on his other side, head on his shoulder. Ryuji sat on the other side of Futaba, his hand lingering close to Akira. Makoto was kneeling in front of him, clasping a hand in both of hers. Yusuke and Haru sat in chairs on either side of her, leaning in close to fill the circle.

Akira’s free hand was on his face, wiping away tears that kept being replaced. Morgana squeezed in and curled up in his lap, nudging him with his nose.

“We’re a team, Akira. Teammates never leave another behind,” he said, closing his eyes.

The Phantom Thieves of Hearts had always had one thing in common: they shared their pain together. And they all awakened to one more thing; Akira Kurusu deserved the world.

What About Me?! - Archie Andrews

Archie imagine where the reader and reggie are dating but he’s constantly making mean subtle remarks about her to her face and finally Archie stands up for her and yeah? Sorry if it’s not too specific

can you do an Archie imagine. Y/n is Archie’s best friend and they use to date and she finds out about Ms.Grundy and she confronts her about it or something like that. You can change it around if I want but thanks

@sleepy-stilinski-24

Originally posted by phebobuffay


I hope you don’t mind it, but I had an idea to make this angsty, but it required combining these two requests

With any good story, you have to include a sensible plot line, a pinch of drama, and a main conflict. Another aspect are the characters, the reasonable and the irrational, that affect the outcome of the conflict itself. The story is dictated by the characters actions in a way that hopefully brings about an, overall, pleasant ending.

The story of you and Archie Andrews was anything but pleasant. Your novel started with a firestorm of drama that burned a hole through the romantic structure of your relationship. It left the characters themselves, you and Archie, struggling to get a grip. So the editor decided to throw the drafts in the trash and never wished to see it again. Despite the rough start and the grating chapters, it ended rather peacefully. You and Archie both agreed that you both were much better off as friends than as romantic partners and you both parted ways before summer started. You would text each other off and on during the summer months, even visit one another on occasion; but soon the messages stopped and you fell away from the other. You moved on to greener pastures with a different football star, Reggie Mantle, and Archie moved on as well. Everything was kosher until school started back up again.

You were walking down the halls, rushing to your next class when you stopped mid-stride. You turned your head to peer inside the music room and you saw him. It wasn’t just Archie though, even through the small window, you could see Ms. Grundy getting way too close to him. You pulled away from the glass, hoping you weren’t seen. You heard the bell ring, signaling that you were late to your next class. You turned and walked to your classroom, hoping that the teacher would make an exception. Luckily for you, you had Dr. Phylum as your Biology teacher and he is very easygoing when it comes to giving out tardies. You found a seat next to Reggie, whose eyes were boring into your head. Class started and you pulled out a notebook to take down information. “Where were you?” You turned and saw Reggie leaning in awfully close. “I went to the bathroom and loss track of time,” you said, trying to sound strong. Reggie squinted at you, “You were seeing Andrews, weren’t you?” You almost wanted to scream; every time you were late to a date or didn’t reply to one of Reggie’s texts right away, he always assumed you were with Archie.

It was this pestering that lead you to give yourself more space, staying away from Archie over the summer. Although it seems, Archie also had his hands busy. You turned back to face your boyfriend, “I’m not doing this right now, Reg.” He just scoffed, muttered something hurtful under his breath and you went back to the lesson. While you were learning about the parts of an ecosystem, in detail, th to the classroom opened and Archie walked in. He was holding a slip of yellow paper and he approached the teacher. “It’s a pass from Ms. Grundy,” he said and you met his eyes when he turned around to find a seat. You stiffened when he walked past you and Reggie seemed to notice, letting out a cough that hid the word “liar.” The class quickly resumed and you tried to ignore the look Reggie was giving you.

When Dr. Phylum closed up the notes, you let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t hand out homework, which meant you could find Archie and talk to him about what you saw. “Hey, babe, you going to the football game tonight?” You looked up at Reggie, who was now standing. You shrugged, not uttering a word, and he suddenly sat down. “Give me an answer when I ask you a question, pig,” he whispered harshly. You swallowed hard, “Sorry Reggie, I don’t know if I’ll be able to,” Reggie just rolled his eyes. “Too busy being a whore to come, I thought so.” The bell rang and you got up quickly, pushing past the door and ignoring the fact you saw Archie darting after you. You just kept doing, rushing to your next class.

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nbkilllers  asked:

Hey I've been diagnosed with bpd but I just recently found the community on Tumblr and sorry if you've answered this but what do people mean by splitting? I haven't heard the term before

Splitting is a product of black and white thinking in bpd. It either is or it isn’t. There’s no room for grey; no middle ground. This typically manifests when your mood rapidly shifts and your view of a person changes, like going from really idealizing a person to hating them and their actions enraging you.

Splitting can be triggered by different things, big or small. For example, it’s entirely plausible for me to split on my friend because when I saw them during the day, they were talking to another friend of theirs.

Irrational? Hell yes. Over reacting? You bet your ass. Over something seemingly harmless I can go from idealizing my friend as such a caring person to someone who is a close minded and negligent prick. Complete shift, no? And it all happened in an instant as a result those few seconds.

It can also happen again if say a day or so later that same friend texts me and asks if I want to hang out. I’m straight back to idealizing them.

Essentially a bpd mind struggles to recognize conflicting thoughts together, so it can can seemingly randomly switch to one or the other (again with the no middle ground). The going back and forth between these black and white mind sets is what is recognized as splitting.

Hope this helped! Have a nice day 💛

anonymous asked:

Hey if it's not to much could you do rfa+V+Saeran like they are cheating on mc and she finds out about it?? Sorry this is my first time requesting so sorry if it sucks I just really like your writing and all.

Okay, I’m gonna tell you straight up that this is gonna be bad. It’s also only Yoosung, Zen, and Jaehee. I will be writing the other four, I just cant right now. This specific request has gotten deleted multiple times, and I’m kinda over rewriting it. I swear that if you don’t like it at all, I’ll rewrite it next week. I’m sorry that this isn’t anywhere near my standards. I just wanted to put something out while I can’t get this to work.


Yoosung:

  • A couple of your friends wanted to go out for a movie tonight, so you left with them and told Yoosung to text you if he needed anything from the store
  • Turns out, you had gotten the movie time wrong and nobody wanted to wait another hour and a half
  • Everyone promised to meet again soon, and you left to go to the grocery store
  • Once you were done, you started driving back to the dorm
  • The traffic was a bitch, but you got home alright
  • You were struggling to open the door two trips is for the weak while maintaining a conversation on the phone with a friend you left earlier that night
  • Swaying open, the door finally moved and you got hit with the moans of two people coming from the couch
  • Hanging up the phone quickly, you shut the door and dropped the bags to the floor
  • “Am-am I interrupting you, Yoosung?” you spoke uncertainly as you walked towards the living room
  • He got up so quickly it would’ve been funny in any other circumstance while apologizing profusely
  • You started going through your key ring and unhooking the dorm key while the person was hurriedly getting dressed and leaving
  • The key clattered to the floor when you dropped it and made a small noise when you kicked it towards him
  • “The groceries have the receipt in the bag. You know the address to send the money to. I’m sorry that I wasn’t good enough for you, Yoosung”
  • At this point, he started bawling while you were laughing softly and bitterly
  • Turning around to go back to the car, you took a final look around the living space, shook your head, and left a sobbing Yoosung calling for you
  • Once you sat down, your eyes started to heat up and you saw him run out as you were backing out
  • Tch, so much for the innocent one
Zen:
  • You were currently sat back at the apartment thinking over today’s previous happenings
  • And to think that you thought Zen was deathly loyal
  • He always turned down everyone and anyone, even if they mattered, just for you
  • Now you were wondering why the hell he would do all that just to do what you walked into today
  • Going into the kitchen, you started to think it over again
  • Zen was shooting all day for today and he was stuck in a trailer for half of it, so you decided to go out to get some food
  • While walking back with the paper bag in hand, you were humming slightly to the music coming from the earbud you had in
  • You walked through the hallways of the dressing rooms but stopped short at his door when you heard some not so family friendly noises
  • And they sure as hell weren’t from your music
  • Shaking your head slightly in denial, you knocked sharply on the door
  • Sounds of harsh whispers, zippers, and the other door opening and closing were silenced when a disheveled-in-all-the-wrong-circumstances Zen opened the door
  • “H-hey, MC! Oh, what’s the foo-?” “Don’t you ‘Hey, MC’ me, Hyun. Shut up for a moment, will you?”
  • Glaring at the vanity, you stepped in and set down the bag heavily and looked him over
  • “How long was this going on for, Hyun? How long? Were you even going to tell me? Is this why all the crew kept looking at me dejectedly?”
  • He stayed silent, knowing that words couldn’t fix what he’s done
  • “I hope that you’re far happier with them, Hyun. Just like your cheesy scripts, when you love someone, you just want them to be happy, regardless if it’s with you or another. Better yet, I hope you have to work with the on every. damn. set. for the rest. of . your. career. I want you to see them and taste me, but you probably don’t. You probably see them when you look at me, don’t you, Hyun?”
  • You turned to leave after going off on him and all he had to show for it was puppy dog eyes
  • Bitterly, you thought that they would’ve worked any other day
  • Before leaving, you stood in the doorway without facing him and decided to leave him with a thought
  • “It’s fried chicken and goldfish bread by the way. I thought it’d be nice to celebrate the day we met, even though you were on set all day”
  • Looking back on it, now in a dark room by yourself, you laughed a bit hoping that it was dramatic enough for him
Jaehee:
  • Jaehee hadn’t answered any of your calls or returned them since she stayed at the office that night while forgetting to tell you
  • You decided to bring her lunch the next day because she probably wasn’t eating anything good or anything at all
  • Walking into the office building, you stopped to tell the person at the front desk who you are, what you’re doing, who you’re seeing, blah blah blah
  • When you mentioned Jaehee, they told you that she didn’t want anyone in her office at the moment but you insisted it was alright
  • They gave you clearance to go up on the elevator but not without a “You’re not going to like it if you’re who you say you are”
  • Attempting to brush it off, your head buzzed with thoughts but you still walked through cubicles and hallways to find the door marked ‘Jaehee Kang’
  • Suddenly, you took a step back from the sounds coming from behind the door as you started feeling numb
  • Unconsciously, you opened the door quickly even though you usually knocked
  • After seeing your girlfriend bending over her desk, with that intern of all people, you turned around with your face warm
  • You weren’t sure if it was from anger, tears, or embarrassment at this point
  • “M-MC? I swear that it’s-” “Jaehee, you know what this is. I know what this is. Please don’t lie. Not now”
  • You set down the bag of food you made earlier by the door as the intern walking by you with a quick apology while you turned back to face her
  • “I hope that they’ll take care of you like I liked to. I hope they can service you in more ways than one, Jaehee. Your things will be in the garage,” you said coldly as she was stumbling over words
  • Jaehee looked a mess kicking on her heels and buttoning up her shirt while pulling up her skirt
  • You turned back to leave while trying to sort out everything you had just heard, seen, and said
  • While leaving the elevator for the last time, you looked over the person at the front desk
  • When would have I figured this out if I just listened?
  • As you were leaving, you saw Jumin walking up to the building with a handful of guards
  • You held the door open for him while mentioning Jaehee would probably be staying at the office for a few more nights

Alright, I’m so so sorry that I got frustrated and that this took so long and its even worse than the usual. I’ll try to get the others out as soon as possible. Again, I’m sorry that this isn’t that good, but I can probably rewrite it in next week. Much love to you all!

Build God, Then We’ll Talk

Pairing: Balthazar x Reader
Word count: 1,230
Warnings: Mentions of death.
Challenge:  This was written for @hardertobreatheat-night’s “Angels of Supernatural Challenge”.  My song was “Build God, Then We’ll Talk” by Panic! At the Disco

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Mafia Boss (G-Dragon Scenario) - Part 5

Here’s part five for you all, finally~ ^^ Really hope you’ll like it and enjoooy~

WARNING! Those who don’t handle violence and strong language well, be ware. This is not, I repeat not, a series suited for young and sensitive readers.

All characters in this series, aside from the members of BIGBANG, are fictional. Any resemblance to real life people, in name or otherwise, are purely coincidental.

Summary: The days following all that chaos were difficult, to say the least.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8][Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22] [Part 23] [Part 24] [Part 25] [Part 26] [Part 27] [Part 28] [Part 29]  [Part 30] [Part 31] [Part 32] [Part 33] [Part 34] [Part 35] [Part 36] [Part 37] [Part 38] [Part 39] [Part 40] [Part 41] [Part 42] [Part 43]

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piggybunny12  asked:

What's so special about Les Mis Dallas? *new fan*

Oh my gosh. Welcome!  And what a good question! I hardly even know where to start.

Les Mis Dallas/ Dallas Les Mis  is what people mostly call the Dallas Theater Center production of 2014. Directed by Liesl Tommy, it took the story of the musical and reset it to be in a modern city (a purposely non-specific modern city).  While it kept the libretto and the story, it was a totally redone staging and design, made to stress the contemporary relevance of the story’s themes and encourage people to feel the immediacy of the story again.

…That’s the newspaper summary, and it sounds high-concept and boring. LMD was anything but. So here’s Entirely Subjective fannish shouting. Under  a cut for lots of shouting and lots of images. 



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Lakewood Vigilante: Lurking, Looking For Trouble

A/N: I was requested to write a vigilante story for an anon a while back which season two just started to air and I’m not getting to it. I hope you enjoy it. I’m thinking about posting short parts to it so that I can post more of it. This might be a multiple part series. Let me know what you guys think! Photos from the collage were found on IMDB/weheart it

Audrey X Reader/Y/N

Y/N pulled into the parking lot across from the cafe Emma was currently finishing a shift at. Looking down at her phone the time read 10:05 and the last customer, an obvious student from the backpack slumped over his shoulder, was leaving for the night. The girl in the car leans down in her seat and watches as the blonde happily locks the glass front door and turns off the “open” sign. The barista looks out the glass doors for cars in the parking and reaches to turn the light off to the dining area all together. She quickly disappears from view.
It was time, Y/N slides on a small black plastic mask, she picked up at a party store gets out of her car and pulls on her black hoody. It wasn’t the average hoody, it’s hood had been made to be extra large, to cover the face and keep it shaded. She grabs the black gloves from the pocket of the jacket and pull them on. Lastly she throws up the hood to cover her face against the tall street lamps around the cafe.
Stealthily Y/N crosses the street toward the ally way between the cafe and the building beside it. She presses her back against the brick wall and waits. Emma always took out the remaining trash at the end of her shifts before finally leaving for the nigh. The door slams open and the angry mumbles of Emma Duval carry over to the girl creeping around the corner. It had a been a busy night and the last customer had not gotten the hint about the cafe closing. A smile grows across y/n shadowed face.
A loud thump ceases the blonde girl’s mumbling and the trash bags fall to the ground with the jingling of broken glass. It was time for Y/N to move, Y/N keeps her body pressed to the brick wall and hastily moves along the wall toward the loud thump.
“Who’s there!” Emma shouts. “Hello? The cafe is closed and we open at 6am tomorrow morning!”

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rawrrachyyy  asked:

Hii! i also am in a LDR and i was wondering what are somethings that you and your daddy do that really impact and strengthen your relationship?

Hai! Thanks so much for asking! Him working 2 jobs currently, and us having just gone through a 3 month rough patch (and relationship break), I’m currently trying to strengthen my own relationship again. I can say though, the number 1 thing that strengthens a relationship is daily communication. We went those few months together, barely talking at all. Daily communication is key. Going a day without it here and there won’t hurt though. By communication, I not only mean texting, but Skype or phone calls. Hearing your dom/little’s voice can do absolute wonders to your mood, and build your love for them. Another thing is, make sure to send pics daily. I myself struggle with this because I’m very very self conscious, but my Daddy really loves when I do. Also, if you can, write letters or send things in the mail to each other. Everyone loves receiving gifts. Make sure to watch them open it on Skype or Facetime! Something else we do is Skyping overnight. We’ll put Skype on before we sleep, and he’ll hang up in the morning if he has work early. It really helps me sleep, seeing as I have insomnia, and makes me a lot happier when I wake up and see that he’s still there! If you have any more questions, don’t hesitate to ask!

Unsolicited

Summary: two boys, dick pics, a flip phone, and coffee

Members: Chanyeol + Sehun 

Length: 1,674 words

A/N: lmaoooo i do not know what this is, it was a request but i had fun writing it im not even gonna lie AND I WAS AT A LOSs FOR A GIF SO SORRY NO GIF


What the fuck.” You snapped closed your phone, closing your eyes as you slumped in your chair, Chanyeol’s eyes watching you from above his coffee cup. 

“You okay?” His question flew over your head, as you opted for instead ignoring him for a solid 4 minutes, before finally peeking an eye open, his figure still as he scrolled through his phone. 


“No everything is not okay!“ The barista from the counter shot you a look, but you were too absorbed into your conversation to care. 


Chanyeol raised an eyebrow again, locking his phone and setting it on the counter as you sat determinedly towards him. 


"Well, what happened?”

You pursed your lips, removing yourself from the table as you sat back again to cross your arms, unsure of how to tell him, shaking your head and opting for the straight solution.

“I’ve been getting dick pics from this unknown number on my phone.”

Chanyeol didn’t choke or cough or sputter like the many times you had when you were on the receiving end of these messages, Chanyeol was a grown adult.

“So?” He deadpanned, uninterested again as you scoffed, bringing a hand up to clutch at your heart in dramatics.

“So? What kind of question…” You trailed off, looking towards the vaulted ceilings of the cafe as chanyeol sighed in front of you again.

“It’s not like you’ve never seen a dick.” He started, and you didn’t interrupt, because you knew chanyeol knew how many dicks you had seen. He opened his mouth to continue. “Just delete it and move on.”

You shook your head, vibrating the table as chanyeol held his drink protectively.

“It’s from the same number, every time.

“And? Block them.”

You blinked then, Chanyeol’s eyes rolling because of fucking course you hadn’t thought about blocking them. Chanyeol was a genius.

“You’re so smart, Channie.” You smiled at him, his eyes not meeting yours as he hummed again, absorbed with his phone as he typed out a text, and you began to search your pockets as you patted yourself down for the same.
You opened your phone again, fingering at the buttons until you go to your messaging app, hearing a snort come from Chanyeol as he looked up to survey you.

“It’s 2016, get off that fucking flip phone.”

You whipped your head up again, your tongue finding its way out your mouth as you looked back at the tall boy, but you didn’t argue it, you had something else to consult him about.

“Shouldn’t I like-” you began, wrapping a finger in your hair as Chanyeol watched you still. “Shouldn’t I like, tell him off before I block him or something?” Your eyes glinted, and you leaned closer to Chanyeol, his reaction what you were going to live off of.

“I mean if you wanna be dramatic about it, go ahead.”

You nodded, moving your head down to lick at your straw as chanyeol grimaced at you, but said nothing as you softly began to pad at the board of your phone, mumbling lightly along to your message as you deviously typed.

“Listen….fuckwit…” You took another slurp, prompting chanyeol to make a face at you again. “Send me….one more dick pic….and…” You stopped, tapping at your neck with your finger as you looked up at chanyeol for reference.

He shrugged, meeting your gaze. “I’ll screenshot it and put you on back pages?”

Your eyes lit up again, almost clambering across the table as the baristas still stared at with you annoyance. “Chanyeol you’re so smart!”

He only hummed again, a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Or! Back..pages…” You stuck your tongue out as you finished your message, smiling widely once you finished.

“That should do it.”

Relaxing, you placed your phone in your jacket pocket again, watching chanyeol with a grimace as he sucked from the top of his drink, you had nothing better to do.

You pursed your lips after a few minutes of silence, the ambient music of the cafe the only thing besides chanyeols slurping.

“I’m gonna miss him.”

Chanyeol choked on his drink this time, instead of air as you watched him with wide eyes.

“Miss who?” He almost screamed this time, but the baristas didn’t shoot him a dirty look, they liked chanyeol.

“Dick boy.”

Chanyeol breathed in through his nose, pinching the bridge of it with his fingers.

“Why?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you looked at him with honest eyes as you bit at your lip.

“He was the only person who texted me daily. Unlike some people.” Raising your eyebrows at him, chanyeol rolled his eyes harshly.

“Okay, one, it was pictures of his cock.” The baristas ears perked up at that, turning a shade of red. “And two, all you do is send me memes that are like 2 years old.”

“One, it was something, and two, you still use Facebook so shut the fuck up.”
Chanyeol watched you warily after you finished your sentence, your phone on the counter as he switched his gaze between you and it.

“You miss him so much-,” you cocked your head as chanyeol mouthed his words at you. “Well let’s call him up.”

He looked devilish, and you felt your arms began to sweat, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move yet.

“You wouldn’t.” You squinted your eyes at chanyeol as he easily grasped your phone in his hands and flipped it open, with an air of grace.

“I would.”

And then you found yourself launching over the table despite the quiet setting of the cafe, because chanyeol fucking would.

“Give me my phone.” You hissed, squeezing nails at the air as chanyeols freakishly long arm held it above his head, squinting upwards as he keyed in the numbers.

“No.”

You pulled back then, gasping. Before you’re mind reached a conclusion that made you shrug your shoulders.

“He’s gonna hear a man on the other line, anyways. You’ll only help in deterring him.”

Chanyeol halted his working digits, shooting you a look that spelled no good as he snapped your phone shut.

“I ended up texting him, I can get why you miss him, his messages paint him as a real nice guy.”

You almost screamed besides yourself, watching chanyeol as he tossed the phone to you, as you struggled to catch it in the air.

“You looked at his dick pics?”

Chanyeol scoffed, like you hadn’t caught him doing that before, and rolled his eyes in his signature way again.

“No, read what he sent you.”

“If it’s another dick pic-”

“It’s not.”

The questionable material of the conversation between you two brought eyes from all around, and you grimaced as you flipped your phone open, fingers working to open the messaging app as you frowned.

There wasn’t the usual image attachments that accompanied the strange number sending the pictures, but there was words.

“Chanyeol, there’s words.” You sounded amazed, and felt hurt after chanyeol groaned again.

“Yes, read them, idiot.”

Opting out of firing back at him, your eyes scurried as you clicked on the message, absorbing the words that began to form into an apology of the sorts as you read on.

Oh fuck, I’m sorry, this is the wrong number isn’t it? Okay, shit. I’m really sorry, I don’t (hardly) send unsolicited dick pics I’m really sorry

“He’s sweet.” Your cheeks warmed, and chanyeol resisted the urge to reach across and smack you.

“Read on.”

Looking back down, you saw the message chanyeol had apparently typed, reading it with caution after you sent him the best death glare you could muster, which didn’t move him much.

Hey, I’m not the one you were texting but for some reason I guess her kink is secret dick pics, but if you’re really sorry, she’s cute and a sucker for apologies in the caffeinated form

“Chanyeol what the fuck-”

“Shut up.”

Your eyes evened out to the last message you had gotten from him, and for some reason your heart had started to beat a little wildly.

Oh forreal? Uh, well, if she wants pretend she hadn’t seen those pictures, I’m always up for coffee?

You snapped shut your phone in a manner than alerted chanyeol as you stared blankly forward.

“Was that too far?” His voice didn’t sound sorry, and you rolled your eyes as best you could.

“You got dick boy to willingly apologize to me in the form of coffee.”

“Yeah.”

“He could be a creep, you know that right? Like, 40 something and sending girls these things, chan.”

“No,-” he shook his head vehemently, the most movement he had had in 20 minutes. “That was a young dick, I can tell.”

And you had to nod, because chanyeol could tell.

“You’re putting me in danger.” You teased, flicking your phone open again as chanyeol sipped on his coffee, eyes closing in content.

“That’s why you’re messaging him back so quickly?”

You shrugged your shoulders too, thumbing along with an odd sense of excitement as you bit your lip.

“I like the idea of mystery boy.”

“Mystery dick boy.”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Chanyeol cocked his head again, watching as you stared down at your phone, his mouth opening again in what he decided would be his final statement on the entire dilemma.

“Don’t send him titty pics back, and if anything happens with dick boy involving coffee or going anywhere, I have to go.”

You waved him off, texting back as quickly as you could on your ancient keyboard, chanyeol was right, you needed to upgrade.

“I can promise that you’ll come with me, I don’t know about the other thing though.”

Chanyeol shook his head again, muttering under his breath as he watched you with amusement.

“What kind of match made in creep heaven.”

And he reached over to drink the rest of your now cold coffee, figuring you’d get more later on from dick boy, or Oh Sehun, because he knew that number, at least, like the back of his hand.

call you tpmorrow

Lily is drunk and erroneously assumes that James’ yellow car is a taxi. Based on a prompt from this post. Rated G for goddammit, she’s drunk, that would be taking advantage. 

The sidewalk is cool on her bare feet as she stumbles to a taxi and opens the door. “Hi there,” Lily giggles, swaying a bit. “Fifth and Main, please.” She buckles her seatbelt with fumbling fingers and sets her purse on the floor.

The car doesn’t move. “Er…” the driver says hesitantly. “This isn’t—”

“Oh, actually, can you take me to Stearns and Second? I forgot to water my friend’s plants, and he’ll kill me if I don’t…”

“I’m not—”

“Or is it Stearns and Eighth?” Lily rambles, words spilling out before she can make sense of them. Her head is fuzzy with tequila shots and the pounding of an impending hangover. “I can’t really remember…”

“Not a taxi!” the driver bursts out. “Just a regular car, thanks.” He twists to look at the girl in his back seat. Her reddish hair is falling out of its complicated updo and her eyeliner is smudged with sweat.

She stares at him like he’s stupid. “Of course it’s a taxi. You’ve got a yellow car and you’re waiting outside a bar at one in the morning.”


“I’m waiting for a friend.”

“Well, I need a ride. I’ll be your friend and you can drive me home, okay? I’m Lily,” she introduces herself as she leans up front. “Who are you?”

He sighs. “My name is James,” he says reluctantly. “Fine, I can give you a ride. I don’t trust you to make it otherwise.” James turns back to the road and shifts out of park, making a dubiously legal u-turn.

“Wait! What about your friend? She’ll be all alone!” Lily protests, apparently just processing what he had said earlier. “You can’t leave her.”

James waves a hand. “He’ll be fine. I’ll text him. He can call a real cab. Fifth and Main, you said?”

“No, Stearns and Fourth. I need to water Peter’s plants,” she says, as if he knows who Peter is. “He’s in England this month. All the way across the sea.” Her mind wanders, until she realizes she’s still leaning forward between the front two seats. “Hi,” she says to his shoulder.

“Hi.” He glances over at her. Her perfume, citrusy and sweet, wafts through the car. “Have you got any shoes on?”

Lily sits back and looks down at her feet. “No,” she says with a frown. “I don’t know what happened to them. And they were so cute.” She stares for a moment more, then shrugs. “Oh well, they were my sister’s old prom shoes. Why’s your car yellow if it’s not a taxi?”

“I like it. It has character,” he says a little defensively. “Okay, we’re on Stearns, so you’re going to have to tell me when we get to Peter’s place.”

She watches out the window, breath fogging up the glass. She absentmindedly traces a heart in the condensation. “Oh, right here! I recognize that book shop. The lady there was pretty. Pretty eyes. Pretty mouth.”

“This is Stearns and Sixth,” James notes as he deftly parallel parks. “Can you remember that?” He gets out of the car and opens her door for her, offering a hand.

Lily doesn’t see it and gets out by herself. “Yes, I can, actually,” she says, somewhat indignantly. “That’s what I said earlier.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it and decides not to say anything.

She walks unsteadily toward a shady-looking apartment building, digging in her purse for a key. “Oh.” James can practically hear her deflating. "I haven’t got the key, it’s at home.”

James sighs again. This girl is either not too bright or unhealthily drunk. Or both. “I’m taking you home now,” he says. “Fifth and Main, yeah?” He helps her back into the car, the front seat this time.

“Yeah. Fifth and Main.” Lily’s lip juts out in a pretty pout. “I really wanted to water Pete’s plants before he got back.” She fiddles with the radio dial and finds an all-night alternative station. “He arrives day after next, and I’ve only watered the plants twice in two weeks. They’ll all be dead.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” James reassures her as he navigates to Main Street. “Once my mum and dad went to Alaska for a week and I was supposed to water their plants every other day, except I actually only watered them once. They survived. Kind of.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to prove I was responsible. He thinks I’m not, since I lost our other friend’s rabbit. She turned up eventually, though.” A pause. “And she even had most of her fur left.”

James can’t stop himself from snorting with laughter. “Jesus. I hope you don’t babysit. Look, we’re almost to your place.” Sure enough, they’ve just turned onto Main Street. “I’m going to give you my number and you text me when you get inside, alright? I don’t want you to end up locked out or anything. And if you want you can call me tomorrow; I have a florist friend who might be able to help with your plant situation.”

Lily smiles faintly at his gentle yet firm tone. She can tell he’s used to dealing with drunk people. “Yes, sir. Oh, that’s my building, next to the tattoo place. With the window boxes, yeah.” He pulls up in a loading zone and scrabbles in the console for a pen.

“Could I see your hand for a sec?” James asks. Lily nods and he takes it to write his number. She watches the way his hair falls over his forehead and for a short, tequila-hazy moment considers pushing it back. But then he’s done and the urge is gone.

“There you go. Text me when you get in,” he reminds her. “Got your keys? Your purse? Shoes? No, you lost them. Right. Well.” A moment of silence, and then Lily opens the door.

“Thank you,” she says as she stumbles out. “Really. It means a lot to me. And I’m not usually quite this dumb, I swear. Or drunk. Or, well, when I’m not this drunk I’m not this dumb. Usually I’m all about organic chemistry and molecular biology and curing cancer.” Another pause. “Anyway.”

“Good night,” James says. “Take two aspirin and call me in the morning.” Lily smiles wryly at this and closes the door. He watches as she tiptoes to her building and struggles with her keys, eventually finding the right one and disappearing without a backwards glance.

Again he sighs. She was cute, he muses, and sweet enough to care about her friend’s plants even while wasted. Hopefully she won’t forget whose number is sharpied on her hand. Hopefully she’ll use it.

Two minutes pass without a text. Five. Ten. James is still parked illegally and has almost resigned himself to forever wondering if she made it home when his phone lights up.

notd ead!! the world of organic chemistry is saved. call you tomprrow.

He smiles at her correctly-spelled ‘organic chemistry’ next to ‘tomprrow’ and shakes his head. Then he pulls away from the curb, the scent of oranges and permanent marker hanging in the air.

babblinglikefelicity  asked:

Olicity + message in the refrigerator

a/n: so i decided to go with a future/au direction, hope you like!

Oliver shuffled into his apartment. The day had been long and tortuous. Too many people to see and talk to, too many things to do, and too much feeling like he was being pulled in every damn direction. He was happy and relieved to finally be home.

Kicking his shoes off and loosening his tie, he walked further into the apartment. He didn’t see his lovely wife anywhere, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t off hiding somewhere. Instead of calling to her, he decided to leave her alone and wander to the fridge for something to drink. On the way there he lost his jacket, slinging it over a random chair, and dropping his tie just outside the kitchen.

He stopped in front of the fridge when he realized there was a note left for him. His eyes moved over the words. A smile tugged at his lips. His wife was amazing. He loved Felicity Smoak-Queen more than he thought he could love another person.

“I’m sorry you had a not so great day,” he read it again. This time chuckling aloud when he reached the end.

Oliver grabbed a beer out of the fridge and went in search of Felicity. It didn’t take him very long to spot the very pregnant woman in their bed. She closed her laptop and then struggled to put it on the table beside her. Reaching things had become a little difficult for her.

He set his beer down on his side table. “Thank you,” he said, climbing into bed with her.

“For what?” she asked innocently.

“For texting me all day and listening to my ranting at lunch…. And for being the best wife ever,” he chuckled.

She returned his laugh. It was the  most beautiful sound. He could feel the heaviness of the day lifting from his shoulders.

“You’re welcome,” she leaned in and kissed him softly.

Her hand moved to find his and guided him to her breast. He gently squeezed, eliciting a groan from her lips.

“I missed you today,” she mumbled against his lips.

He squeezed again, “I missed you too.”

She nipped at his lower lip, “Good.”

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Maps   ▏Donghyuk

▶ I took more to some particular lyrics in this song, and a few elements from the video to write this. I really like it, because it’s personal and relatable to me, and I hope you like it as well :)

“I was there for you in your darkest times, I was there for you in your darkest nights. But I wonder where were you? When I was at my worst, down on my knees.” 

           It was late. Really late for that matter, and with the charming need to wake up bright and early the next morning for school in the back of his mind, Donghyuk knew he should’ve been at home, in his bed by now.

           But as soon as Donghyuk’s phone lit up just five minutes ago in his room as he was brushing his teeth and he scanned the message that popped up, he knew he had to be there. He had to be there for you.

           Donghyuk approached your dorm and knocked on the door. No more than ten seconds later, you appeared in the doorway, looking like a mess with your hair all over your face and your cheeks wet.

           “Hey,” Donghyuk said softly, stepping inside. “I got your text, what was the emergency?”

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On Guattari, Lacan, and Deleuze, or, Oh God, Not This Again

Kirk e-mailed me a question:

Dear FT,

I have a more specific question that’s been nagging at me for a little while: what relationship does Guattari’s thought have to Lacan, and do you see it as having had any influence on his collabortion with Deleuze? If there is no errant Lacanianism floating around in Capitalism & Schizophrenia, what do you think kept it out? If there is, does that mean that there are a few salvageable ideas in Lacan’s thought?

I’ve only delved into Anti-Oedipus once or twice before I realized that I need to take a step back to get a firmer grip of its intellectual heritage before going back in (reading Spinoza is swift becoming my reward for getting all of my work done in the day, by the way), so I would be content if the answer is “read the fucking book first and get back to me then.” But I’m curious about your perspective.

All the best,
- Kirk

Alright, so, first things first.

The reasons I don’t like Lacan are definitely blogged about here.
The question of whether anything can be “salvaged” from Lacan’s thought has been answered here.  To save you from having to actually read it, sure, something can be salvaged from Lacan, just like something can be salvaged from any text if the reader is clever enough.  But that salvaging operation is a tribute to the cleverness of the reader and not to the profundity of the text.  I’ve heard people say extremely intelligent things about Fifty Shades of Grey, but that’s a tribute to those people’s intelligence and doesn’t change in the least the fact that it’s an absolutely execrable excuse for a novel.  

So.  Onward.  

Despite my repeated insistence that I don’t care about Lacan or want to talk about him anymore, people keep asking me questions about Lacan.  I understand why - I write a lot about post-war 20th-centiury French thought, which is overwhelmed by Lacan’s shadow - but the thing is, at some point removing Lacan from his pedestal will mean no longer assuming that going through him is an essential prerequisite to understanding post-war 20th-century French philosophy.  Do you see how the loop works?  It’s a vicious cycle that can only be broken by choosing to focus on something else.  It honestly boils down to a choice of focus, rather than to an inescapable interpretive fact. As it happens, Anti-Oedipus may well be the best possible example for how this choice of focus could be made.  

The text is absolutely about Lacan.  And it’s absolutely not about Lacan.  And you can choose to read it either way.  There is, let’s be clear, no “errant” anything in Anti-Oedipus.  The entire text is constructed with immaculate care to both respond to a set of existing conceptual assumptions and to completely sidestep those assumptions by developing an entirely new conceptual language not dependent on an available - and heavily freighted - intellectual vocabulary.  That it manages to do this so effectively is a testament to the brilliant collaborative efforts of Deleuze & Guattari, one of whom was intimately enmeshed in the conceptual language of Lacanian psychoanalysis and the other of whom was completely removed from it.  

The enmeshed one was, of course, Felix Guattari, a trained analyst who came to Lacan through his involvement with Jean Oury and the La Borde clinic.  Guattari’s relationship to Lacan is extensively detailed by Francois Dosse in his excellent double biography of D&G, Intersecting Lives.  Without rehashing too much, the nutshell version is that Guattari was Lacan’s favorite pupil and heir apparent for a fair while, until he was summarily dismissed and effectively excommunicated after Lacan took active steps to block his ideas and arrest his career.  Anti-Oedipus was thus performs, in relation to its authors’ intellectual history, the very question it poses as a text:  can we think up a framework through which to grasp the the Law of the Father and its castrating trauma without undergoing a psychoanalytic indoctrination that is, itself, oedipalizing and patriarchal?  If we were inclined to Hegelian dialectics - which hopefully we are not - we might say that your question and my answer to it rehashes, yet again, on yet another level, that same struggle.  But let’s not, tbh, because why.

To answer your question most directly, then:  Guattari’s relationship to Lacan is one of deep influence and considerable trauma, and that influence, as well as that trauma, are deeply engraved in Anti-Oedipus - if you choose to look for it.  

Guattari was not the only person Lacan spectacularly fucked over.  He was also not the only person who tried to reject Lacanianism.  The difference is that most other contemporary critiques of Lacan begin by taking Lacanianism for granted as a coherent explanatory framework, then arguing against it.  The best example of this is Irigaray’s unspeakably brilliant Speculum of the Other, Woman.  Nobody rips Lacan apart quite as subtly, as dismissively, and as effectively as Irigaray.  It’s easy to see why Speculum absolutely infuriated Lacan:  it makes him seem like a bumbling, obnoxious, shitty reader and blind thinker, both of which I think he was.  But even Speculum still engages with Lacan on Lacan’s own terms.  Rather than ignoring Lacan’s assumptions and looking elsewhere, Speculum attempts to refute his arguments, mostly by following their implications through to reductio ad absurdum.   

The thing is, Lacan’s influence on post-war Paris is really difficult to overstate.  Between the mid-50s and the mid-70s, he effectively replaced Sartre as the French intellectual par excellence.  His lectures were a literal who’s who of the creme de la creme of the wait, what? of Parisian intellectual life.  Everyone fell under his shadow.  Everyone that is, except Michel Foucault and Gilles Deleuze.  I think Foucault and Deleuze shared two qualities that helped them resist Lacan’s influence:  a deep suspicion of Freud and of psychoanalysis; and a deep philosophical knowledge that included working through the ideas of Hegel and Heidegger on their own terms, rather than through the quasi-Marxist pseudo-Freudian rehashings of Kojeve and Lacan.  The Hegelian dialectic is a hypnotic and seductive spiral of illogic; combined with the sexiness of Freudian phallocentrism it made for a heady and convincing theoretical cocktail that, unfortunately, was also utter horseshit.  Having already concluded in the ‘40s, before Lacan, that Hegelianism was nonsense, Foucault and Deleuze were much else susceptible to Lacan’s penis-shaped reworking of the Master-Slave Dialectic.  

What Guattari shared with many others, then, was a desire to escape Lacan’s influence and prove him wrong.  What Deleuze gave him - what other critics of Lacan completely lacked - was a way to move forward without becoming enmeshed in the same conceptual hurdles that made Lacan’s thought so untenable and gross.  And Deleuze’s answer - so simple, so obvious, so brilliant - is simply this:  if everyone who tries to engage these problems falls into the same set of traps, why not engage a different set of problems?  In other words, everyone else who tried to take on Lacan began from the premise that Lacan’s questions were the right ones, but his answers to them was wrong.  And in trying to answer them differently, everyone inevitably fell into the same problems.  Deleuze, instead, sidesteps these traps by engaging a different set of questions.  Post-Lacanian French thought offers a million different conclusions to the premise “If desire is negation, then…”  Deleuze shrugs and flips the script.  From its very opening, Anti-Oedipus addresses an entirely different assumption.  The premise it addresses is “If desire is a pure positivity, then…”  It’s kind of that simple.

To cycle back, then, to the question of Lacanianism and Anti-Oedipus.  Can we find Lacan’s shadow in the text?  Sure.  Why not.  To the extent that the questions the text engages are formed in relation to Lacan’s questions, it exists in relation to his thought.  But by making his intervention at the level of the questions the text addresses rather than at the level of the answers it provides to them, Deleuze manages to reshape Guattari’s fervent critique of Lacan into a text that demolishes Lacan’s intellectual framework without becoming enmeshed in its assumptions or beholden to its conceptual language.  

In short, the answer to your question is “Deleuze is better than everybody.”

Hope that helps.  
And yes, finish reading the fucking book.  

shutupsavannah  asked:

Okay the first one about texting with the last ship you fangirled over?

“my friend can’t stop talking about how they want to set me up with their other friend so we start texting each other and they’re hilarious but shy about meeting and ALSO there’s a cute bike delivery guy who brings my mail at work and winks at me whenever I sign for a package AU”

 This started out as just a quick prompt, and grew into a full-on Solangelo fic, totaling just under 3,500 words.  I had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you enjoy!

            “Sooo, Nico,” is how Jason greets him in the dining hall on Thursday afternoon.

            “Sooo, Jason,” he mocks, head cocked to the side, feeling oddly upbeat for someone who has just come from an hour-long lecture on staph infections.  Jason is grinning at him even wider than usual until he visibly tries to even out his expression and attempts to stir his soup nonchalantly.

            “There’s this friend of mine in psychology class- you know, the one that wrote the song about Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs- and he said-” Nico holds up a hand to silence him.

            “Jay, I’m gonna go ahead and stop you right there.  I appreciate the thought, but I don’t need a boyfriend.”

            “I know you don’t need one, obviously, but don’t you think it’d be nice to meet somebody?  Just to have fun?”

            “That’s what I have you and our loser friends for.”

            “He said you were cute.”  Nico twirls his spaghetti around his fork, lifting it closer to his face only to stare at it, examining a fleck of oregano as though it is infinitely more important than this conversation.

            “No, he didn’t.  He’s never met me.”

            “Alright, but he said that from what I’d told him about you, you sounded cute.”

            “Well, in any event, I hope you’re prepared to let him down easy, because it’s not happening.”

            “It can’t hurt,” Jason tries one last time.

            “Actually, it can.  A lot.  So no thanks.”  Jason doesn’t really have a retort for that, so he lets it drop for the time being and slides his extra oyster crackers across the table in a peace offering.

__________

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That Article From Earlier Still Has Me Fuming...

I’m still fuming over that article dismissing Magneto as “white.” 

Regardless of their varying cinematic quality, the X-Men movies have always been good at building this political allegory without becoming overly preachy. However, they’ve also been downright abysmal at acknowledging people who face this type of discrimination in real life. The only exception is Charles Xavier, who as a character with a physical disability is near-unique as a blockbuster movie protagonist.

You know who faced discrimination in real life? Holocaust survivors.

This sudden influx of racial diversity was meant to counterbalance the overwhelmingly white and male nature of the movie’s main cast. Unfortunately, it also served to remind us that while Wolverine, Xavier, Magneto, and Hank McCoy got to chase around after Mystique back in the 1970s, the main role of non-white characters was to provide interchangeable expository dialogue and keep Wolverine alive for long enough to save the world.

Again dismissing Magneto, a character who survived genocide based on Nazi Racial Science, as white.

Yet somehow, Days of Future Past may be their worst ever attempt in this regard, a perfect example of the way Hollywood treats “white male” as the default setting for humanity.

X-Men is the only major movie franchise that features a textually visible Jewish character in a major role. Name one other major action/adventure film with a Jewish character, where the character’s Jewishness is text. Jews are allowed to be clowns, criminals, science geeks or victims. How often do we get to be action heroes? Yes, Magneto is an anti-hero at best and this is part of why I’m pissed that Kitty’s role has been reduced. The Thing’s Jewishness was not acknowledged in either of the Fantastic Four movies, and Kitty is a virtual non-entity in the franchise, a virtual cameo. Her marginalization matters not just because she’s a woman, but because she’s an unquestionably heroic Jew.

By the time we hit 1973 in Days of Future Past, all of Magneto’s team are dead, replaced by new recruit Quicksilver… who is, you guessed it, another white guy.

Quicksilver is Romani/Jewish. But this isn’t brought up in the text. But, of course, Jews and Roma are White, right? And what do they know about oppression? Especially children of two Holocaust survivors.

Although Xavier and Magneto are opponents, they fight a common enemy: the oppression and erasure of mutantkind. Sadly, this human rights parable has been rewritten so that only white, male heroes have any impact on the struggle for personal freedom. 

Because again, Magneto so totally wouldn’t have experienced oppression and erasure were he not a mutant. He had a happy privileged white childhood. Oh, wait. No, he didn’t.

In this epic story about an oppressed minority fighting back against bigotry and violence, it is ironic to see so many white male action heroes characterized as leaders, saviors, and icons of freedom.

Yes. Because Magneto is so totally not a part of an oppressed minority that faced bigotry and violence.

The thing that makes me the most angry about this article is that I AGREE with the point that the author was trying to make, but I can’t stand her casually conflating Magneto with white privilege. The sheer grotesquery of not taking into account the context of the suffering of Holocaust survivors when considering oppression of minorities cannot be understated. Dismissing genocidal oppression because of the victim’s skin color  is revolting. 

Yes! Let’s get more diversity in the X-Men films. Let’s give Storm a bigger role! Let’s get Kitty more screen time! Let’s have a version of Psylocke who’s isn’t a random, unnamed extra! These are important issues that should be addressed. The X-Men comics have been consciously diverse in the gender and ethnicity of its characters since the 1970s. It’s a tradition that the films SHOULD uphold and it is ridiculous that they are not.

But we can make that argument without deliberately overlooking the genuine suffering and oppression that Jews and Roma suffer because of their minority status.

That Night

Let’s review EVERYTHING that happened that day/night:


That Day;

• Ali stays at Hilton Head with Ian to get her mind off of A, in comes Melissa telling Ian never to see Ali again or someone’s going to get hurt. Ali discovers the NAT videos and takes a copy with her.

• Duncan comes to pick her up in his plane and took her to a landing strip near Philly and she checked into Lost Woods Resort.

• Ali was going to meet A at the Doll Hospital, but presumably we never found out if they met or not.

• Ali visits Jenna at the hospital, let’s her listen to the video of her and Toby. Ali threatens her if she ever gets another text or comes back to Rosewood, she’ll bury her. Ali gets an A text as she starts to leave, “Bitch can’t see you, but I do. Tonight’s the night I kill you. -A”.

• Ali buys a storage locker and puts the NAT videos flash drive in her kid lunch box.

• Ali “returns” home from GA, all tan and giggles. Spencer figures out that she was lying about the Hilton Head luggage. Ali asked why so many questions, she says “wait for it, wait for it”.

• Ali goes home to unpack and change before going to the party. Thinks that her mom picked out the yellow top. She faces her mirror and it says, “I’m everywhere and soon you’ll be nowhere. -A”.

• Ali visits Emily and gives her a snow globe with the storage locker key inside and tells Emily it’s “a lot more valuable than it looks”. She then says she has to go because she has a prior engagement. Which we still don’t know what she did or who she met.

• Ali then returns home and ate dinner, she was about to leave for the sleepover, but Mrs. D didn’t want Ali leaving. Mrs. D is on and off the phone with someone (possibly Radley) and Ali wanted to go out, but Mrs. D and Ali argues over who is still after Ali and Mrs. D mentions to never turn your back on a Hastings. But Ali takes some of Mrs. D’s sleeping pills and sneaks out.

That Night;

• Ali scares the girls in the barn and she gets a phone call from Toby. She then drugs them and waits for them to fall asleep.

• Ali then meets Toby outside of the barn, he gave his sweater to her because it was cold. He thanked her for getting him free from Jenna. He then sees Ali get in a car with someone.

• Ali meets Ezra in his car. He is mad about her lying about her age. She fiddles with her Alison bracelet and it falls off, then she puts it on her right hand. Ezra ends it with Ali, and she says if he ever publishes his book, he better spell her name right.

• Ali leaves to go to meet Ian in the woods. They make a video, “ I know you want to kiss me”. A fake struggle appears and Ian kisses Ali and he walks towards the woods. Ali then threatens Ian with the videos to not send her another text again. He then tells her not to tell anyone about the videos or people will get hurt, he then storms off.

• Ali returns to the barn to see an awake angry Spencer waiting for her. They have a fight inside Spencer’s house. Spencer tells Ali that she’s tired of her games and that she’s dead to her already. Alison then leaves and Spencer follows her to finish the fight. Ali says the convo is over and so are they. Spencer then threatens Ali with a shovel. Spencer then drops her pills and Ali found out that she had been speeding. Spencer then walks away upset carrying the shovel. Spencer makes Ali promise to not tell her secret, then she heads back to the barn with the shovel.

• Melissa sees Spencer and Ali fight and Spencer walking towards their house with the shovel.

• Ian, Garrett and Jenna are all in Ali’s room looking for the videos. Then Melissa storms in asking where Ali is.

• Garrett and Jenna leave Ali’s house and into Ali’s backyard with Melissa and Ian alone upstairs.

• Ali then comes into her yard, without Toby’s sweater on. Ali and Jenna fight and Garrett ends it with pretending to let Jenna think he killed her with the Hastings hockey stick. Garrett and Jenna leave.

• Garrett comes back to check on Ali and sees her with Byron. They talk and he tells her he didn’t bring the money. As Byron was leaving he saw Melissa come out of Ali’s house upset and on the phone with someone telling them, “What do I have to do, call 911 to get your attention?”

• Presumably after Melissa got off the phone, she sees Cece and talks to her, begging her to talk to Alison to get the videos she stole (but the last part might be false because Melissa already thinks that Spencer hit Ali).

• Jason then comes out of the house wasted and thinks he saw Melissa and Ali talking by the gazebo. But then he sees it was Melissa and Cece. He then passes out.

• Ali returns to the barn watching the girls sleep waiting for an A text, but it never came. She then returns home and sees her mom upset through the window. Then sees her scared and Ali got hit with a rock.

• Mrs. D then begins to bury Ali alive thinking she’s dead. When Ali starts to wake up, she sees her mom begin to bury her and she kept saying to someone, “what have you done!?”.

• Grunwald appears near the gazebo and pulls Ali out of the grave. She then takes Ali to the hospital but Ali escapees and started walking and Mona happens to find her.

• Bethany comes to Ali’s house already dressed in Alison’s clothes (possibly). She then gets hit over the head with a shovel.

• Melissa goes through Ali’s backyard and sees what looks like Ali dead near an already dug up grave. She then panics and pushes Bethany in and buries her alive, thinking Spencer killed Ali.

• Aria, Emily and Hanna wake up to find Ali and Spencer gone. Then Spencer returns to the barn and says she looked for Ali everywhere. Spencer thinks she heard her scream.

• Mona checks into the Lost Woods Resort under Vivian’s name and takes care of Ali. Mona convinced Ali that she should let A think she’s dead and helps her run away the next morning, leaving her clothes and Ali bracelet with Mona.