what do i do with all these troy and abed feels

The Last Word

I was rewatching that episode of Community where Abed and Troy kept hitting each other with pillows because they didn’t want their friendship to be over, and I just kind of liked the idea of an argument stretching out ridiculously long just because 2 people don’t want to stop talking ^^

college AU.

read it here on AO3!

“Dean, this is Cas - Cas, Dean,” Jo said, calling over the thudding music in the bar where they were standing, propping up the bar. She had a hand on Dean’s shoulder, and she gave him a little shake. “I’ve been meaning to introduce you guys since forever. I just know you’re gonna get on great. Cas, Dean likes philosophy, and psychology - that kind of thing!”

“I’m, uh - an armchair philosopher at best,” Dean said, throwing Jo a look that said, as clearly as he could without words, don’t play me up too much. Cas, the guy standing in front of him, was quite clearly out of Dean’s league - tall, lean, with the looks of an Athenian hero and the expression of a Roman statue, chiselled and unsmiling. Dean took a hefty swig of his drink, and smiled charmingly.

Well, he thought, you never know until you’ve tried.

“So, are you a Freud or a Jung kind of guy?” he said. Jo clapped his shoulder and moved off, evidently satisfied with the opener and feeling as though her introductory duties were complete. Dean watched after her for a second as she went, taking her social skills with her.

It wasn’t that Dean was bad in social situations - it was only that when there was just him and an undeniably cute guy, things tended to get a little… flustered. Jo, on the other hand, was perfectly at ease, and good at smoothing over the stupid things his runaway mouth tended to say -

“You can go and talk to her instead,” said Cas, and Dean started and looked back at him guiltily. Cas’ expression was unreadable, watching him watch after Jo. “Please, feel no obligation to enjoy my company.”

Dean blinked. Cas raised his eyebrows.

“I’m, uh, I’m - uh,” Dean said, wrongfooted. “I was just -”

“And I think - Jung,” Cas said, cutting through his fumbling. “Freud’s theories are too rooted in misogyny and phobia to be of any interest beyond the influential and contextual, for me.”

Dean swallowed.

This is going great, said a little voice in his head.

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Your first time ♡ Grayson {smut}

Request: ‘’Can I have a Grayson smut imagine where it’s their first time; he’s being super sweet, he keeps asking if she’s alright and he’s being super gentle and adorable. Gahh I’m in my feels Lmao. Thanksss xx‘’

Response: Thanks for your request! ♡ Ah, I wanted to write this for so long! Whoever gets to lose her virginity to these angels is lucky as hell hahaha. Anyway, I hope you like it :)

Warning: English is not my native language, so if there are any vocabulary/grammar mistakes, please ignore them. I try my best :)

Grayson and you had been dating for over eight months now. He was eighteen and you were seventeen. You absolutely loved spending time with him and he always made clear that he loved spending time with you as well.

Most of the time you guys were together. Sometimes you went to the cinema or a chic restaurant, but most days you just stayed in, watched a movie and cuddled. He could never get enough of you. Tonight was one of those nights.

This evening it was Graysons turn to pick a movie, and he decided to watch Troy, one of his favorites. You were watching the movie as he kept playing with your hair and stroking your cheek, while constantly watching you. ‘Eh, I thought you wanted to see this movie,’ you laugh and look beside you.

Grayson has a dreamy smile on his face and his eyes are still focused on your hair. ‘Yeah…’ he says absently, but he doesn’t stop playing with your hair. ‘What is it?’ you ask. Instead of answering he shoves closer to you and puts a kiss on your lips, opening them with his tongue.

You’re surprised, but don’t pull back. You kiss him back, cupping his face with your hands. You thought he would eventually stop, but his kisses were getting deeper and rougher. A soft moan escaped your lips, causing him to grin. Of course you didn’t mind making out, but you didn’t really know where this was coming from. He grabs you by your waist and you change position so that you straddle his lap.

Eventually Grayson pulls back, reluctantly. ‘Wanna take this upstairs?’ he whispers out of breath. Your eyes widen. What was he up to? ‘Sure,’ you chuckle. Grayson lifts you up effortlessly while you put your legs around his waist. While he walks up the stairs he starts placing sweet kisses down your jawline and neck.

He holds you up with a hand under your butt while the other one closes the door of the bedroom. Grayson gently places you down on the floor and goes sit down on the side of the bed. He then pulls you closer while his hands are on your upper back.

You look down at him and he looks up to you so that his head is in his neck. Graysons eyes are filled with anticipation. Your hands are cupping his face again. You smirk at the fact that for the first time he’s shorter than you. Or it seems like it, in this position.

He doesn’t break eye contact while he smoothly slides off his shirt, revealing his toned torso and abs. You blush and finally realise what he was up to; he wanted to have sex with you. God, how were you always so naïve?

He looks up to you, asking for permission. You nod, biting your lip. He slides of your shirt too and the touch of his warm hands make you get a pleasant shiver.

He starts unbuttoning your jeans, but you place his hands on his arms. He stops, looking a bit confused. ‘Gray… It’s not that I don’t want this, but - you know - I’m still a virgin.’ Your words came out a little stammering and you feel your cheeks heating up. You knew he wasn’t a virgin.

And you didn’t really care about that, but you did care about the fact that you had no idea how to have sex or even the way to please a boy. And you sure as hell wanted to please him. But you had never done any of that stuff.

Grayson smiles and kisses your belly button. ‘That’s okay. If I’ll do anything you don’t like, don’t be afraid to tell me. Tonight is all about you.’ ‘Okay,’ you quietly say, smiling.

Step by step he takes off your clothes, leaving you only in your underwear. He couldn’t keep his eyes of you. After every piece of clothing he took off he stroked and kissed the place where your skin was naked now.

He kissed your whole body; your belly, hips, thighs… You liked that he did everything to calm you down and ease your nerves. He wanted to make you feel special, especially tonight.

Grayson takes his jeans off too. You can’t help but notice the bulge in his boxers. He takes it off, revealing his massive erection. Worrying about how that would ever fit into your small body, he helps you taking off your underwear.

You giggle at his shaking hands which are trying to open your bra. Finally he slides it off and he pushes you softly onto the bed, so that you’re lying on your back. Grayson climbs on the bed and hovers above you.

You feel very exposed and place your hands on your boobs, trying to cover them. Never in your life had a boy seen you naked like this. Grayson pushes your hands gently to the side.

‘Don’t cover yourself baby. You are absolutely beautiful…’ He looks down at you with a proud smile. You let out a nervous giggle. ‘I’m not.’ ‘You are,’ he assures you. He kisses the top of your breasts, which turns you on. 

You pull him closer and soon you’re having a heated make out session. You were complete putty in his hands. While his hard member is stroking your core, you felt yourself getting wetter with the minute. Grayson could feel it, too. He bites your lower lip and you nervously spread your legs so he could position himself between them.  

After putting on a condom Grayson hovers above you again, leaning on his elbows. ‘Are you sure you want to do this? We can wait, if you want. I would wait another ten years for you. I don’t want to just fuck, I want to make love to you.’

Your heart flutters at his words and you stroke his cheek. Oh, how you loved this boy. He smiled, but you could see that he was concerned. It was so obvious Grayson really cared about you. He never forced you into anything.

‘I’m ready, Gray. You’re the only one that I want to lose my virginity to. I want this.’ And after those words he places one last kiss on your mouth. He uses one hand to slowly guide the tip between your slicked folds.

At first you don’t think you can handle it and with closed eyes you gasp at the burning pain. He waits, letting you adjust to his size. He slightly strokes your cheek with his fingers.

Then he slid in more, going still very slowly until he was fully in. You feel yourself tighten up around him while he filled you all up. God, he was huge. You knew that the first time would hurt, but you didn’t know that it would hurt this bad. Grayson studies your face worriedly, his forehead frowned. He knew he was hurting you.

‘You okay? Do you want me to stop?’ Grayson asks caringly. You inhale deeply. ‘No no, it’s okay. Just be gentle…’ ‘I will, don’t worry,’ he says with a sweet voice. After some time the pain luckily starts fading away and you look at him. ‘I’m ready.’

Grayson nodded and he began thrusting into you, never taking his eyes from your face. He needed you to feel comfortable. But you felt more than comfortable; you felt amazing. The pain had slowly turned into glorious pleasure. He starts sucking your neck, trailing down to your collar bones.

You enjoyed every minute. It felt like your bodies were melting together, like your body belonged to his. You stroke a hand through Graysons fluffy hair while he kisses your lips again.

Originally posted by lovershub

‘Faster,’ you whisper into his mouth. Right after those words had left your mouth he starts picking up the speed, pumping faster. He still was very careful with every move he made, making sure he didn’t hurt you. He was worried you were too fragile for his size.

‘Grayson…’ you cried out his name. He had to know that he could let himself go, that he could enjoy it too. Everything felt so good; Graysons large hands touching your body, his hips pressed to yours, his husky breath in your neck.

You start clawing his muscular back with your fingernails, causing him to groan. ‘Good girl,’ he panted. You felt a heavenly sensation rushing through your stomach as Grayson grinded his hips harder to yours, pounding against your g-spot. You breathed heavily.

‘Oh, I’m close,’ you cry out. The sight of your closed eyes and bouncing breasts made Grayson slowly reaching his high, too. ‘Me too, baby. Look into my eyes when you cum,’ he demanded and you did as he said. Dirty talk made him ten times sexier.

After a minute you couldn’t hold on any longer. Loud moans escaped your mouth while arching your back. Every muscle in your body tensed as you reached your climax at the same time as Grayson reached his. He let out a long, deep moan, his body shuddering. His face was concentrated as he brought his pumps slowly to a stop to ride the orgasms as long as possible.

You couldn’t believe that someone could made you feel this good. Grayson pulled out and collapsed heavily breathing next to you. He stroked your belly as he pushed himself up with one elbow.

‘You alright?’ he asks. ‘I’m perfect. That was amazing,’ you say, turning on your side to kiss him passionately. ‘I’m glad. I love you so much,’ he murmured with a soft voice. Your lips curl into a big smile. ‘I love you, too.’

until the end of the line

there’s still a bit of Friday left for a Captain Charming fic (with some Snowing and CS). waaaaay future fic; warning: major character deaths…ish. (you’ll see). thank you to the Abed to my Troy @shipsxahoy for beta’ing! 

AO3 | FF.net | ~5.5k words.

There was still something satisfying about relaxing on the porch after a full day of work, even after all these years. Killian basked in the glow of the setting sun, a pleasant ache in his aged muscles as he settled into the weatherworn wooden chair he’d claimed as his own some fifty years back.

(How odd that such a timespan would be considered the majority of most people’s lives and was only a fraction of his—yet was, by far, the best and richest, putting all his previous decades to shame.)

He never thought he’d have such a full life to reflect on. As he sat overlooking the backyard of their home, where a sheepdog was currently chasing after butterflies, he got so lost in the memories of children (and later, grandchildren) playing there that he didn’t notice when someone took a seat next to him; not until the thunk of a beer bottle on the arm of the chair pulled him out of the past.

“What were you thinking about, Hook?” David asked, sinking his old bones onto an equally weathered chair and taking a sip from his own bottle.

“All the things this yard has seen. Remember when my cunning daugthers tried to throw a kegger back here?”

“And instead of busting them, you joined right in, and called everyone over,” Dave finished with a chuckle, deepening the already thick lines around his eyes. “I think we embarrassed them into never trying that again.”

“Whatever works, right?”

“I’ll drink to that.” He held his bottle to Killian, who clinked his own against it, and they both settled back to reminisce, as they did most evenings while watching the sun’s descent.

He hadn’t noticed it the first time around, but the red sky made for an exceptionally beautiful sunset in the Underworld.

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3 -- for the Kent Parson Birthday Bash

“Nobody is know,” said Alexei. They were having Thai food before he left for Providence after spending a week in Las Vegas. “I’m sure. Everyone think I’m the man on your instagram – why you put those, anyway?”

“Well –” Kent flushed. Alexei was referencing some particularly ravishing photos of Jeff’s mostly naked body. “He looked good. I couldn’t help it. You saw that ass, obviously.” He took a bite of his pad kee mao. Alexei had green curry, but it was almost gone.

Alexei laughed. He had such a nice, warm laugh that Kent couldn’t help but smile in response to it. Alexei ruffled Kent’s hair a little. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “My abs better, but if people have to think I look like someone else naked, is not a bad choice. He looks good.” He swirled some of Kent’s noodles around a fork, stealing a bite.

Kent laughed. “I should put you both on there, keep people guessing.”

Alexei raised a brow. “What, not enough drama for you in last year?”

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youtube au. sort of.

alright so we all know that bitty has a youtube channel, hence the whole premise of the comic, but what if the rest of the group had youtube channels as well?

  • jack starts a youtube channel after the overdose. he found himself intrigued when he had too much time on his hands and he delved into youtube to discover hey these people are kind of cool, what if i made a channel?
    • at first it’s just simple things. he gives tips on how to work out and not push yourself too much. describes different hockey plays and the pros and cons of each. he has a segment where he talks about history, some of his favorite stories and cool little tidbits he thinks people should know
    • most people originally start following him because damn his face and also you know he’s pretty well known as a hockey player in certain circles and it’s interesting to see the person behind that
    • after watching two or five or twenty of his videos, however, people realize that wow he’s actually really interesting? like his history stuff is all about the underappreciated looked over part of history and all the stories are really interesting and his hockey tips are actually really helpful to people who play and, okay, the workout videos maybe aren’t incredibly interesting but when you’re watching jack zimmermann do squats in tiny compression shorts you really don’t have any complaints
    • he gains a decent following, a huge mix of people from all different areas. there are his hockey fans, his history buffs, the people just there to look at his pretty face and call him their “son” (jack doesn’t really get it but it’s way better than the ones who call him daddy so he isn’t gonna question it)
    • it goes on for about a year, jack sharing history and hockey and little things about his life with his Zimbos (that’s what they call themselves? he isn’t really clear on the name. it sounds like bimbos which is mean, isn’t it?) when the first Video comes out.
      • it’s titled Anxiety.
      • it’s just jack sitting at a desk with his room in the background. he explains the basics of anxiety and how it can be diagnosed and treated. it’s clinical, really, nothing too personal at all, but it’s the expression jack wears as he speaks that hits the Zimbos where they live. he looks like a scared child, frightened and lonely.
      • it’s the first in a series of mental health videos that jack posts.
    • he continues with his history-hockey-work out aesthetic, but every once in a while it’ll be just him, in his room, talking about mental health. he ends each video with a reminder to his viewers to take care of themselves, not to push themselves too hard, and to be a little selfish when it comes to self-care. it’s always softer, more intimate, despite the clinical way in which jack talks.
    • he never explains his story, the overdose and the draft and rehab, but no one really asks. only outsider assholes that have no idea what the channel is about ever mention it. sometimes they post idiotic questions about coke, but if they do, they’re drowned out by the rest of the Zimbos who, instead of fighting the original dickface, flood the comments with love for jack, making the original shitty thing dissapear in the rest of the comments. they never get to see the small smiles that jack wears when he sees this, but it still means the world when he replies with a simple, “thanks” and no context.

after the cut for the rest of the crew because damn this got long

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So this should satiate some of your Leggy hunger, at least for the time being. There’s some smut 😏, some fluff, ya know, a little bit for everybody.


Also, send feedback, thanks. Like reblog, comment.

ALSO I hope you people enjoy this and actually give feedback because spent some decent time coding everything on my phone for the italics link everything. So….


The house was empty when Peggy opened the door.

She scrunched her brow and frowned slightly. Gilbert should be home- it was his day off. She pulled off her coat and heels, tossing them on the couch as she passed them.

A breathy moan sounded through the house and her heart managed to drop and climb into her throat at the same time. She padded down the hallway in her stockings. Her steps were silent as she made her way to the bedroom. The door was open and a whimpering moan floated through.

“Oh mon dieu!”

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lose your heart and your head (1/?)

summary: Now that they’ve both graduated, Annie convinces Jeff to join her on a cross-country road trip.
Word Count: ~4,500
Author’s Note: Shout out to @bethanyactually for being the best beta any writer could ask for, always helping me create better, more IC scenes.
I was hoping to post this all at once for the classic trope day, but the idea has already gotten away from me. I hope the story carries you away, too.



“I’m not going to take no for an answer.”

Apparently, in their time apart, Annie’s lost her ability to hold a conversation because Jeff doesn’t understand what the hell she’s talking about.

“First of all, yes, please come in. So glad you could stop by.” She’s not fazed by his sarcasm even a little, too busy unfolding a map across his kitchen counter. “Secondly, no for an answer to what?”

She waves him closer with a grin, and despite the warning signals going off in his head—it’s a trap and giving the inch it’ll take to hear her out will have her snagging a whole damn mile out from under your feet—he takes a seat on the barstool next to her.

“We’re going on a road trip.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows, waiting for further explanation.

Annie lets out an exasperated sigh, like she can’t believe he isn’t caught up yet, and fixes her bright, manic-with-the-promise-of-a-big-project eyes on him. “You know! A cross-country road trip to celebrate the fact that we’re both college grads now. A final adventure before we have to put our whimsy aside in the face of adulthood and corporate America!”

“Okay, Britta. You know I’m thirty-five, right? I’ve pretty much already faced adulthood.”

“That doesn’t mean you’ve outgrown the need for an adventure! Come on, I’ve already planned the route and booked the first couple hotels. All you have to do is pack, show up, and drive some of the way.”

His eyes drift to the map. Annie has circled several cities in red pen, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she had a twenty-page itinerary all typed up and ready.

He has to admit, it’s an appealing proposal. But…

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mbti types as “community” quotes
  • ENTJ: “I discovered at a very early age that, if I talk long enough? I could make *anything* right or wrong. So either I’m God, or truth is relative. And in either case: booyah.” — Jeff Winger (“Pilot”).
  • INTJ: “As a student of character, I have the feeling that trying to make this commercial may cost the Dean his sanity — and my camera follows the fire, not the smoke. Ever seen, ‘Hearts of Darkness’? Way better than, ‘Apocalypse Now.’” — Abed Nadir (“Documentary Filmmaking Redux”).
  • ESTP: “You know, we laugh? But the fact is: student/teacher relationships *do* happen, and they are a *magnet* for lawsuits. In fact, physically attractive students and faculty are actually placed on a watchlist, and are ranked by their potential to incite fraternization.… You guys be extra-careful now! Two people of *your* rankings in this small room? With this type of lighting, and his upper body, and what her heels and hemline are doing to enhance what were already *quite* a few favors from God? It’s all the more important to keep it tasteful!” — Dean Craig Pelton (“Interpretive Dance”).
  • ESFJ: “I told Pierce a thousand times! I never wanted to meet LeVar in person! I just wanted a *picture*!! YOU CAN’T DISAPPOINT A PICTURE!! ….Butterfly in the skyyy! / I can go twice as hiiiiiigh. / Take a look, it’s in a book / A reading raiiiiinboooow. Reading raaaainb… *sobs* Set phasers to LOVE ME!!” — Troy Barnes (“Intermediate Documentary Filmmaking”).
  • ISFJ: “I don’t like it…” “That’s okay. You know, you’re just reacting the way the world did to Jesus.” “I’m reacting the way the world does to movies about making movies about making movies! I mean, come on, Charlie Kaufman, some of us have work in the morning, *damn*!” — Shirley Bennett and Abed Nadir (“Messianic Myths and Ancient Peoples”).
  • ENFP: “Hey, sorry for bailing on the psych experiment.” “That *was* the experiment, Troy. We were testing to see how long people would wait in the room.” “……WHOA.” “Oh! Gotcha.” “*Gotcha*? That’s all you have to say?” “Yeah.” “You sat in a room for *twenty. six.* straight hours. Didn’t that… *bother* you?” “Yeah, I was livid.” “Then why didn’t you LEAVE?” “Because you asked me to stay and you said we were friends.” “……Wait, is this still part of the experiment?” — Annie Edison and Abed Nadir, feat. Troy Barnes (“Social Psychology”).
  • ISTP: “So, in the experiment, Stanford students were divided into prisoners and guards. The guards *immediately* started to—” “UGGGGGGGH.” “What’s wrong?” “I’ve got this weird pain right above my eyebrow…” “*rolls eyes* It’s called a stress headache. I got my first one when I was four.” “I hate it!” “Well, get used to it! You’re knee-deep in it now, brother. This is *debate*!” — Annie Edison and Jeff Winger (“Debate 109”).
  • ESFP: “What is *WRONG* with you people?! Huh? I thought you were supposed to be *friends*! I thought you were supposed to LOVE each other! Your love is *WEIRD*! And *TOXIC*! And it destroys everything it touches! I no longer *care* about grade… or biology… or finally graduating from college like I promised my dying father! I’m going *home*. I am gonna hold my wife and my child close, and I am gonna finally TAKE MY INSULIN SHOT. …OFFENSE TAKEN! …Offense taken.” — Todd Jacobsen (“Competitive Ecology”).
  • INFJ: “What if a ghost took the pen.… Seriously: why not. Why not just, ‘A ghost took the pen?’” “Okay, I’ve been saying that for *hours*—” “And we should’ve been listening to *Troy* from the beginning. Guys, look in your hearts and answer this question honestly. What’s more likely: that someone in this group *doesn’t belong* in this group, or ghosts? If we have to choose between turning on each other or pinning it on some spectre with unfinished, pen-related business? I’m sorry, but my money’s on ghost.” — Jeff Winger and Troy Barnes (“Cooperative Calligraphy”).
  • ISFP: “I boiled the yams! Vicki’s yam never sprouted, and I didn’t want her to fail, so I threw off the grading curve, so she wouldn’t have to go to summer school and we could finally have sex at my parents’ cabin! GOD FORGIVE ME, I DID IT FOR LOVE!!” “Holy *crap*! We are *definitely* dissecting pinecones next year!” — Fat Neil and Dr. Marshall Kane (“Basic Lupine Urology”).
  • ENTP: “You didn’t hurt my feelings, Shirley.… I was just trying to throw you a bone because I like you.” “Oh? Well, you can keep *that* bone. Listening to a story about a stranger pissing me off and taking the stranger’s side? And then you can’t talk about your own business, but you insinuate my mama’s a robot because she and I want *makeovers*. *That* is the ladies’ room, Britta. A place where ladies go to share, listen, support each other, and discreetly eliminate waste. And I like you, too. I even like that you’re a little hard. But if you can’t learn to be soft in *there*? You need to pee alone.” — Britta Perry and Shirley Bennett (“Football, Feminism and You”).
  • ISTJ: “You’re mad at me?” “I spent a week planning a party just to make you happy. And then I bailed on the party and ruined it — again? Just to make you happy. And it turns out, while I was wasting my time trying to make you happy? You were making *yourself* happy all over everyone else by doing yet *another* stupid movie spoof.” “I prefer the term, ‘homage.’ …It wasn’t about making me happy. I chose ‘My Dinner With André’ because it’s about a guy who has an unexpectedly enjoyable evening with a weird friend he’s been avoiding lately.… You and I hung out more last year.” — Abed Nadir and Jeff Winger (“Critical Film Studies”).
  • INTP: “What does it mean? …No riddles. You’re screwing around with everyone, you gave *me* a tiara. What does it mean? Are these — are these *blood diamonds*? Are they *Holocaust diamonds*?!” “No!” “Well, what does it mean?!” “It means… you’re my favorite.” “…What does *THAT* mean?!” — Annie Edison, feat. Pierce Hawthorne (“Intermediate Documentary Filmmaking”).
  • ESTJ: “I got freaked out by that, ‘boyfriend’ label. I’m afraid of commitment.” “How original.… You’re acting like I’m a Venus flytrap. I didn’t want or need more than what we were doing.” “Let’s get back to it! Should I get the door?” “I can’t now, because you went to the, ‘friend’ place. That’s *you* getting official, not me. Because unless there’s something I need to know about the lunch lady or that blonde in your Spanish class with the infinite supply of leather jackets? Somewhere between our ninth and eleventh slumber parties, statistically speaking? Most people would call us more than pals.” — Jeff Winger and Michelle Slater (“Interpretive Dance”).
  • INFP: “I don’t think I can finish my commercial. But I think I know how your documentary ends.… I have failed this school. I have failed it because I thought I was better than Greendale. You see, I went to a university, so I thought it was my job to *improve* this place. But it turns out that the only thing wrong with Greendale? Is that it’s run by an insecure wreck, who holds five dances and two talent shows a year because he’s afraid that this school isn’t good enough. But Greendale *is* good enough because it accepts me for when I’m not. Greendale is the best! school! in the entire world! And I’m so sorry, what I’ve done to it.” — Dean Craig Pelton (“Documentary Filmmaking Redux”).
  • ENFJ: “The truth is? I’m lying when I say there is no truth. The truth is — the stupidly, pathetically, inconveniently obvious truth is: helping only ourselves is *bad*, and helping each other is *GOOD*.… It’s that easy. You just stop thinking about what’s good for you, and start thinking about what’s good for someone else, and you can change the whole game with one move.” — Jeff Winger (“Introduction to Finality”).
Guy’s Weekend

“I just don’t get how a weekend at a lake is supposed to strengthen a relationship.” Nate stated.

“Look, I don’t get it either, but listen, I have an idea.” Troy responded.

Troy’s mother has just married his new stepfather after just a month of dating him. Since Troy obviously had no clue what Roger, his new stepfather, was all about, his mother thought it would be healthy for Roger to take Troy to their grandparent’s lake house for a “guys weekend,” meant to strengthen their relationship. But get this: Roger already has four sons. Troy resisted as much as he could to his mother’s wishes, but gave in eventually on one condition: if he could bring his mate, Nate.

Nate and Troy continued riding in Troy’s car behind Roger and his sons on their way to the lake house. “Oh boy, I’m sure I’m going to like this one. What’s your big idea?” Nate asked sarcastically.

“Remember what you did last year at the prom after party to Drake-”

“No, no,” Nate interrupted, “I know exactly where the fuck this is going and you can count me out. I’m looking to relax.”

“Oh, come on! That was so hot! Some football player all of the sudden going gay! I know you don’t want to be here just as much as I don’t! I’m just looking to have a little fun,” Troy said, stroking Nate’s upper thigh.

“But with you dad? And your brothers?”

“Oh, slow your goddamn roll, Nate. First of all, STEPdad and STEPbrothers. And I barely know him and haven’t even met the other three. Plus, you’ll obviously only be able to chose one.”

“Yeah, but you’ve met Ben.”

“Met is a stretch. Nobody’s really met Ben. He plays his lacrosse and he never talks to anyone. I’m pretty sure he’s a psychopath.”

“Or he’s just comfortable in his own head and doesn’t want to trouble himself with other people.”

“Beside the point, we don’t know any of these people, plain and simple. Plus I’d rather be rolling around with one of those guys than playing an icebreaker game with the step-family around the dinner table. I mean, you saw them. I feel like we’re in at a fucking Crossfit tournament when we’re in the same room as them.”

“I won’t argue with that. But how am I even going to get close to them? I don’t know these people. You don’t know these people. You’re the closest to them, and that’s saying something.”

Troy shrugged, “Use me.”

Nate looked at him with raised eyebrows, “That won’t be weird for you?”

“Dude, we go way back; I really don’t mind. I’m honestly surprised we haven’t done it at this point. Plus, I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like.”

Nate considered this, “You know what? Fuck it. Sure, let’s do it.”

Troy clapped his lands loudly, “Fuck yes! Rrrnng! So pumped!”

“Alright, alright,” Nate laughed, “So when do you want me to get into you?”

“Wow, I love the way that sounds,” Troy whispered, rubbing his crotch, “Ummm… You know what, surprise me. I don’t want to see it coming.”

Nate nodded, “You got it.” He reached over and held Troy’s hand.

After many miles of twisting roads and endless trees, the shores of the lake began to appear behind the forest. Just a few miles after that, the two cars arrived at the driveway of the lake house. Roger’s SUV pulled up to the side of the house and it’s doors opened, and six tall, muscle bound men poured out. Each one of them twisting their bodies and stretching, lifting up their tank tops to reveal rock hard abs. Roger got out and put his hand of the mounded shoulder of his oldest son, Taylor, and gestured Nate and Troy out of Troy’s sport car that had just pulled in.

Troy and Nate approached the ridiculously buff group of men in front of the SUV. “God, it’s like they came out of the womb doing crunches,” Nate whispered to Troy and they both laughed.

“Troy, I’d like you to meet my family,” Roger said with a wide grin, “This is Taylor, my oldest.” Taylor raised a hand with a smile, similar to Roger’s. You could tell all of these guys were descended from the same man. “He’s a business executive in the city. Good with numbers, horrible with time.” They all laughed. “This,” he continued, going down the line, “is Don. He’s a rugby player in upstate. This is Peter and his boyfriend Sam, they work in one of the TV studios in the city. And this is Ben, I think you know him from your school.” All of the sons politely smiled with a ‘sup’ to follow and waved except for Ben just raised a hand up and continued typing on his phone.

“Well, hey, I’m Troy, and this is my boyfriend Nate,” Troy said, Nate smiling and raising a hand.

“Boyfriend? Well that’s great, you two and Peter and Sam ought to get along real well!” Roger interjected. Troy, Nate, Peter, and Sam all looked between each other and Roger awkwardly as Roger let out a nervous laugh. “Well, anyways, we have all weekend to get to know one another, but for now, I am beat. I think if it’s alright with everyone, we can all spend the rest of the morning getting settled in and relaxing, then we can all meet up and have some lunch. How does that sound?” Everyone murmured and nodded in agreement. “Sounds like an enthusiastic agreement. See y’all in a bit.”

As Roger and his sons proceeded to unload their SUVs, Nate and Troy walked into the house with their arms around each other. When they entered, they each took their shirts off and went straight out to the porch overlooking the lake. Troy sat on one of the chairs and lit a cigarette. “I’ve always loved it out here,” he said, releasing his first drag, “The air just seems cleaner.” Nate hummed in agreement as he walked to the shore of the lake. He, too, liked it out here. It’s a good place to be with his boyfriend. He felt like he was starting to get as excited to have this little adventure with his lover. He looked back at the porch and saw Troy leaned back in the chair in a relaxed position, his mouth hanging a little open. Now was just as good a time to ‘surprise’ Troy as any.

Nate walked quickly up to Troy on the porch, reached inside his pants and brought his cock out, rubbing it to stiffen it. About five feet away, Troy became aware of Nate’s presence, opened his eyes, “Shit dude! What are y-“ Nate grabbed Troy by the shoulders and inserted his cock into Troy’s mouth, pushing the tip to touch the back of his throat, and Troy welcomed it. Just then, Nate began to liquefy his body to Troy’s surprise. Then Troy began to involuntarily suck, forcing the liquefied mass of Nate’s body into Troy’s widening mouth. As he was sucked in all of Nate, Troy began writhing in the chair moaning, “OOOoohh, fuck.. oooh, yes I can feel you, I can feel you all around inside me I can feel-…” Just then, Nate had taken over. Nate turned and twisted, looking at his boyfriend’s body from another angle, stretching and flexing his body, enjoying the feeling he’s been waiting on for a long time. “Alright,” he said in Troy’s voice with a clap, “Let’s go find us a playmate.”


Nate walked up the stairs in the house in Troy’s body, looking for someone to start with. He arrived at the first guest bedroom where Peter and Sam were staying. He knocked on the door and entered; they were unpacking their bags.

“Hey, you guys need anything? I’m really familiar with the layout of this place,” Nate lied in Troy’s voice. Peter had just changed into a more casual blue v-neck from the polo he rode in wearing, and Sam had done the same with a rose v-neck.

“I think we’re fine, but thanks for asking,” responded Peter. “Yeah, thanks,” agreed Sam.

“Ok, Nate and I will be in the guest room downstairs if you need us for, you know, anything. Really, anything at all.” Nate said with a wink, grabbing his crotch and doing a Michael Jackson hip thrust.

Peter and Sam just looked at each other.

Nate closed the door silently laughing and readied himself to leave Troy. He decided the best route to please Troy. Nate began to exit through Troy’s dick in the form of a long, white, silky, trail of cloud, hearing Troy release a long moan as he exited. Troy whispered “thank you” to the trail of Nate and walked downstairs to their guestroom. Nate continued under the crack of the door to Peter and Sam’s room and quickly slithered under the bed. “Weird kid, and I think I heard him reaching orgasm or some shit just outside the door,” Sam said. Nate could see that they were changing to go out on the boat. Peter laughed, “Just play nice. Dad married his mom, so I think at least I have to get used to him.”

Sam went to the bathroom as Nate slithered to the pair of board shorts on the ground. As soon as he nestled in them, Peter walked over to them and pulled them up his legs and around his waist. Just as soon as this happened, Nate shot himself into Peter’s ass and began filling himself out in Peter’s body, while Peter fell convulsing onto the bed. Eventually, Nate took control and was rushed with the feelings of the body. He looked at his new impressive arms and gave them a flex, feeling the muscles of each with his other arm. He took off the v-neck and bounced his new pecs and flexed his abs. He began to feel his new dick throbbing, and he pulled down the board shorts, the monster 11 inch cock sprung up and slapped the bottom of his impressive torso. “Woah,” Nate said out loud. Turns out the package matches the body. Just then, Sam existed the bathroom and Nate turned to towards him, amazed and nude. Sam looked down at Nate’s erect cock and smirked, “Your dad said relax, so I’ll help you relax.” Sam walked towards Nate in Peter’s body, taking off his own shirt as he came, and pushed Nate onto the bed, and immediately began sucking his new dick. “Wait a m-… oooohh…” Nate called out in pleasure. He held on to the back of Sam’s head as he went up and down. Troy was damn good at giving head, but Sam was a goddamn master, it turned out. After a short time, Nate exploded in Sam’s mouth. He watched as Sam swallowed and crawled up the bed towards him and planted a passionate kiss on his mouth. Nate welcomed it, but realized what he was doing quickly. He turned and slid off the bed, putting on a pair of Peter’s underwear. “I’m going to the kitchen, need anything?” Sam leaned back, wiping off his mouth, “No thanks. But in those? We’re still guests here.” “I’ll be quick.”


Nate left the room in Peter’s underwear, his cock still erect from it’s earlier treatment, bouncing in the compression of the underwear. Peter was off the list. He and Sam loved each other too much. Nate and Troy didn’t want to tear any relationship apart. He passed the home gym, where he noticed Don was working out. He stopped and watched and Don looked over and noticed him too. Don looked down and noticed Peter’s huge boner in the compression of the underwear, “Not interested, faggot.” Nate, a little taken back, grabbed onto the still erect member over the underwear, “Oh, you mean this? Don’t worry, this was already well taken care of.” Don chuckled a bit and continued his exercise.

What a tool, Nate thought as he continued walking until out of sight. Time for subject number 2. He exited in his same trail of cloud from Peter’s ass and exited his underwear from the legs. Peter reached back and felt around his bubble butt, thinking he had just had a bowel movement. He slithered into the home gym and went over to the bench press where Don was easily benching maybe 225 lbs. of weight. Nate entered Don through his ear and Don nearly dropped the weight on himself out of shock. He clenched his teeth together and writhed as Nate entered. It didn’t take long for Nate to be fully in control. Turns out it wasn’t that hard to get into Don’s head; the only things that are up there is pussy and rugby. Don’s body, on the other hand, was something to talk about. Nate stood up and started studying his new god of a body in the mirror.

Nate lifted his arm up and immediately smelled his musk from working out. He felt his new 10 inch cock growing against his gigantic thigh and reached down to shift it. Christ, this family was hung like horses. He squeezed both of his pecs and rans his hands along his abs, next flexing his arms to inspect their unbelievable size. He heard someone approaching and saw Peter walking back to the stairs with a bowl of cereal. Peter looked his way and threw his head up in a ‘sup’ gesture and Nate returned it, now flexing his thighs and ass in the mirror. Funny, he would have been completely turned on seeing a guy like Peter walking around in just his underwear, but he felt nothing. He still felt his member throbbing against his thigh and couldn’t stop thinking about boobs, so he went to the bathroom and rubbed one out to get rid of the feeling. Afterwards, he still felt horny, so he went back to the home gym to do some lifting. He grabbed a couple of 70 lb. dumbbells and began curling them. He watched himself in the mirror and took pleasure in seeing his humongous guns growing and pumping in the mirror. He set the weights down panting, but immediately started thinking about pussy. This was exhausting living like this. He couldn’t feel himself attracted to Troy anymore and he knew he couldn’t adequately please him in this body. It was time to try another one on for size.


Nate strutted out of the living room and into the kitchen where he saw Roger cutting onions in preparation for lunch.

“Sup pops?” Nate said in his best bro voice.

Roger looked up, “Ah, good, at least one of you is at least wearing shorts. Peter came in here wearing nothing but his underwear. I think he and Sam were getting a little too comfortable.”

“Yeah, I heard the bed rocking. Sounds like Sam really knows where to hit it.”

“Come on, Don. I don’t want to hear things like that. I know it happens, I just don’t want to hear about it.”

“Whatever, prude, I know from experience.” Nate joked as he opened the refrigerator to look preoccupied. Roger looked at him questioningly. Nate, realizing what he said, just chuckled to pass it off as a joke. Roger just shrugged and laughed and continued busying himself with the onions. Nate looked into the refrigerator and concentrated. He began to push himself out of Don’s ear as Don clinched his teeth together sucked in air in pain. Roger heard what was happening and turned around to say something, but Nate dove straight into him through his nostrils and quickly got in control of Roger. He didn’t intend on using Troy’s stepdad with him, he just wanted to try him on for size.

“What’s up, Don? Ear infection? I thought those were only childhood things,” Nate said in Roger’s voice, rubbing his nose and sniffling.

“Uuuhh, um, I don’t know, I feel weird,” Don said confused.

“Well, go take a shower before lunch; you smell like death,” said Nate, still secretly admiring Don’s musk.

“Uh… yeah, ok. Yeah,” Don answered, still confused and turned to leave.

Nate gave Don a pat on the ass as he left and watched it jiggle. Don turned around confused, and Nate just smiled.  Don left and Nate began to evaluate Roger. Again, he felt the strong desire for some pussy, but not as strong as he felt with Don, and in particular for Troy’s mother. It was clear that he was missing her and very much in love with her. Just thinking about her got Nate hard. He felt his stiff foot long member in Roger’s cargo shorts. So that’s where all these boys get their impressive tools. He grinded it up against the counter where he was cutting onions and moaned. This is the body that produced all of the cut men in the house. The thought of that made Nate even more hard. No, he thought. This is just weird. He’d never taken over a father before and it just felt foreign. It was time to find someone else.


He went outside in Roger’s body by the pool, where he saw that Taylor was lounging out sunbathing. Taylor had an impressive body. It was clear that he spent a lot of time keeping himself toned and healthy. Nate moved over to Taylor and stood over him. Taylor should have heard him coming. It was clear that he was asleep.  This would make it easier to take control.

Nate decided to have his last bit of fun with Roger and exited through his dick. The long silky trail of smoke drifted out of Roger’s growing dick as he threw his head back moaning and went straight into Taylor’s open mouth. Taylor coughed a couple of times, but Nate was fully in control within two seconds. He opened his eyes and looked up at Roger. “Hey daddio,” he called up to him while Roger looked around, confused by how he got out there. Nate looked down at Roger’s still erect penis in his shorts, “Too bad the new lady isn’t around to fix that” he joked. Roger looked down shocked and covered himself, running back inside. Nate laughed and inspected his body. Before he could even reach down and touch his new large pecs, his mind started racing. How was the company going to turn out this quarter? Would sales be able to gain enough commission? Would accounting meet their deadlines? I really need a girlfriend. Am I going to have enough time this weekend to make that conference call?

Nate was overwhelmed; he was already done with this body.  He couldn’t even get himself hard. Nate pushed himself out of Taylor’s mouth as Taylor coughed a bit, looked around, and dozed back off. Crazy how that fucker could even sleep, Nate thought. He slithered along the ground in his silky trail of cloud and went inside. As far as he could remember, there was just one more. He really hoped this one worked; he didn’t want to come back to Troy empty-handed.


He went into the living room and saw Ben lying on the floor in front of the fire, checking his phone. Good, he was preoccupied. He slithered along the floor and approached his legs, where his board shorts where fanned open, giving way to a clear entry path.

Nate slithered into his shorts, feathered his cock a bit for it to stiffen, and pushed himself in. Ben moaned loudly and arched his back while the tail of the Nate’s trail whipped and slithered the rest of the way into his pulsating cock. Nate gained full control and pushed himself up on his hands to catch his breath. He looked down and saw his heavy, heaving, mounded chest and his heaving, cobbled, sculpted abs heaving, as well has his cock staining against his shorts. He pulled them down and a throbbing, thick 13 incher slapped itself against his abs. He turned over on his back and started yanking on it furiously until he exploded and showered his abs with his cum. He watched as his legs clenched with muscle and lifted his arms and gave them a flex. He was perfect. He thought about going to surprise Troy and found himself getting even more turned on. Good, another gay guy in the house. This guy was more than perfect. He went to the bathroom to clean himself off and started walking to Troy’s room.

He arrived at the closed door and knocked and then positioned himself in a way to turn Troy on. He stood leaning to the side a bit and rested a hand near the bottom of his torso on his impressive abs.

Troy answered the door shocked and immediately turned on.

“Hey, man, sorry to bother y’all,” he started shyly in a deep baritone, “But my phone is starting to die. Do either of you have an iPhone charger?”

“Uh, yeah, um, yes,,” Troy stammered. Nate had to keep himself from laughing. “Yeah, uh, Nate went off to meet some people he knows that live on the lake, but I think he has one in his bag.”

Troy turned to walk towards Nate’s bag to search for a charger and Nate followed, but took off his shorts and rubbed himself a few times to get stiff as he followed. He stopped behind Troy, who was bent over the bag rummaging through it, “You sure your boyfriend won’t mind you looking through his things?”

Troy turned around and Nate was standing over him in Ben’s body completely naked. Troy just looked up with his mouth wide open. Nate bounced his pecs; he knew that always got Troy really turned on. It was then that Troy knew it was Nte.

“You son of a bitch!” they both laughed. “Ben?! Out of all of them Ben? I’m not complaining, I just didn’t know he was gay.”

Nate lifted up his arms in a lazy shrug, “Queer as a three dollar bill.”

Troy approached and planted a passionate kiss on Ben as he felt every muscular contour of his back, grabbing his bubble butt, and rubbing his crotch. “I can’t believe it. Lacrosse Ben. Shy as a mouse, hung like a horse, and now inhabited by my boyfriend.”

“You want to talk about hung like a horse, this whole family is packing!” Nate exclaimed. “They must have been raised around a nuclear reactor or something. Christ almighty.”

They both laughed and continued making out. Suddenly they heard Roger call everyone in for some lunch. “Let’s go show them how close we’ve gotten,” Nate suggested.

They both laughed and walked through the house together to the kitchen. This was going to be a fun weekend.

Community MBTI

Jeff Winger
ENTP [The Originator]

Originally posted by vicartel

Engaging, plausible and entertaining the ENTP will be like a breath of fresh air, infusing people and situations with a whole array of new ideas and creative ways of doing things. However, they can become bored and withdraw their energies as they go off in search of the next thrill. Curious, child-like wonder characterises the ENTP, they are flexible, open-minded and love possibilities. They tend to see everything as a challenge, seeing opportunities even in the most difficult of circumstances. ENTPs can at times display impatience with those whom they consider wrong, and may show little restraint in demonstrating this. 

Britta Perry
INFP [The Dreamer]

Originally posted by wesgibbinsed

To the INFP life is a long quest for meaning and harmony and their personal values are so important to them. This means that it is essential to the INFP that their beliefs and their actions are totally in sync at all times. An INFP is unlikely to take any action which they don’t believe in their heart is right. Yet there is a crusading side to the INFP that would surprise even those who knew the person well. When a personal value, or belief is trodden on, then the INFP can become uncharacteristically outspoken but their values are usually so well hidden that the other person may not realise they have done so.

Abed Nadir
INTP [The Engineer]

Originally posted by samanthapanther

The INTP is intellectually curious and enjoys the more complex and theoretical problems, often for their own sake. Practical application has little interest for them, preferring to identify the solutions and then leave someone else to plan the work. They do however like things done properly and have very high standards. The routine, the detail bores them rigid and they will put off completing tasks, especially those that they see as unnecessary, preferring to ‘blitz’ them nearer the deadline. For the INTP follow-through does not come naturally, and completion will be via huge bursts of energy at the last minute but it will be done. 

Annie Edison
ENTJ [The Leader]

Originally posted by guh-gifgarden

Organised, productive with high willpower, determination and an intense need to be constantly ‘on the go,’ the ENTJ will not sit back and see what life brings but will proactively go make it happen. Rarely intimidated and with a restless desire to achieve and with no problems going against the grain or being very direct with people. This is of course not intentional but they can display a lack of patience with those who don’t grasp things as quickly as they do, or who appear to be blocking the plan, and can be seen at times as intimidating overbearing in their desire to get the job done, moving from A-Z in the shortest possible time-frames.

Shirley Bennett
ISFJ [The Defender]

Originally posted by introductiontobasics

ISFJs are the people-centric doers, using their considerable organisational ability to make sure people are taken care of and protected. They are extremely conscientious, hardworking, loyal and dedicated, to people, organisations, groups. Once they are allied to the cause they take their roles very seriously. They have incredibly clear and precise memories and are scarily accurate with facts, figures, names, faces - oh and any person who has slighted them! The ISFJ gathers facts and data and are painstakingly accurate with incredible attention to detail, and extremely methodical in their approach. 

Dean Pelton
ESFJ [The Supporter]

Originally posted by gerrymanderer

Organised, caring and driven by duty the ESFJ loves to contribute and remain constantly valued, productive, busy and liked. The ESFJ has an action-orientation that they will channel into people, helping and finding practical solutions to people issues and they’ll work hard at making this happen as they are naturally oriented to the needs of those around them. Whilst the ESFJ wants everyone to feel valued, they will also want to feel part of the group themselves - they need to feel included. If someone is hurting, the ESFJ will be the first to respond. 

Troy Barnes 
ENFP [The Advocate]

Originally posted by fucktheworldiamalion

Friendly with endless energy the ENFP will be at the heart of where the people are, future oriented looking far beyond the obvious often seeing things that others fail to. They are driven by the new and have an insatiable curiosity making them mercurial, fresh and enthusiastic. However, having so many interests can mean that, at times, the ENFP may have trouble keeping still, prioritising and focusing on the task at hand, especially if something more interesting is looming. The routine and detail bore the ENFP who wants life, work and social to merge into one stimulating environment with endless possibilities shared with people. 

Pierce Hawthorne
ESFP [The Entertainer]

Originally posted by thesightofsettling

The ESFP is interested in people and experiences and their dislike of rules and routine, are justified by their view that their reason for existing is to bring harmony, sympathy and support to peoples’ lives saying 'I just had to do something to help.’ The keywords here are 'do’ and 'help;’ caring and practical in equal measure. The ESFP has an ability to make others feel so special. Down to earth and practical, ESFPs live in the here and now preferring to take life as it comes with the optimistic view that it’s bound to be good, (and if it isn’t then there’s always next time!). 

Descriptions from Prelude Character Analysis.

anonymous asked:

Do you ship Jeff/Annie? I want to, but Jeff is so awful---obnoxious, arrogant, narcissistic, materialistic, manipulative, sneaky, extremely dishonest and an alcoholic. Other than that,, he's a real catch ;) Annie has a lot of flaws too---all the characters do---but at least Annie also has a lot of strengths. Jeff's one strength is 'sometimes not quite as horrible as he first appears to be.'

eh, i disagree that jeff’s only strength is that he’s sometimes not as horrible as he seems to be. you’re entitled to your opinion, of course, but i think that’s a serious oversimplification of the character. 

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: jeff winger is mentally ill. he has an eating disorder. he has depression. he has anxiety. he’s terrified of being vulnerable because - thanks to his jag off of a father - he’s convinced himself that he’s unlovable…that, should anyone actually get close enough to him, they’ll realize they don’t actually like him and leave. the arrogance is an act. most of the jeff personality we see in the first season is a carefully constructed persona that jeff thinks protects him from forming emotional bonds and giving people the power to hurt him like he was hurt by his father.

so, okay, a complex reason for being obnoxious, arrogant, narcissistic, manipulative, sneaky, and extremely dishonest does not a justification make. well, not necessarily anyway. (i didn’t include materialistic because i don’t see that as a flaw, really, and i think that’s a part of who jeff is no matter the personality he’s built for himself. i also didn’t include alcoholic because that’s a serious disease jeff deals with - along with his various other neuroses - and it’s perhaps a touch insensitive to include it as a character flaw.)

but i don’t actually think jeff is really most of those things. not at heart, anyway. let’s break it down trait by trait cause it’s friday night and i don’t have anything better to do

  1. obnoxious - you got me on this one. jeff can be super obnoxious in his abuse of sarcasm and his need to be right all the damn time. but i counter with this…name literally any member of the study group that’s not obnoxious. (you can’t and every single one of them is still lovable.)
  2. arrogant - jeff’s arrogance is a performance. it’s a mask, and a fragile one at that. put him in close proximity to anyone that shows they are competent at something jeff prides himself on, and his arrogance crumbles. (ex. rich. howie schwartz. frankie dart, at first.) he’s the most insecure person in the group, so he tries to ‘fake it till he makes it’
  3. narcissistic - god, jeff is so thoughtful and it breaks my heart. allow me to list a few examples of jeff putting his own feelings aside to do what’s best for members of the group. jeff participates in pierce’s spanish skit to make pierce feel like he’s a valuable part of the group. jeff stops britta from being suspended for cheating. jeff talks amber up to pierce because pierce desperately wants a family, does the right thing by telling pierce that amber’s stealing his money, then tells pierce that he does have a family in the study group. jeff reaches out to neil when he’s depressed and goes out of his way to make neil feel better. jeff intervenes during pillows and blankets the second he finds out troy and abed have started hurting each others’ feelings. jeff helps shirley and pierce resolve their business related fight and makes the best speech ever despite the fact that it might cost him his career later. i’m going to stop there, but jeff cares so deeply about his friends and the other people at greendale. 
  4. manipulative - again, you got me here. but you know who else is extremely good at twisting words and playing with emotions to get what they want out of a situation? annie. also, abed. 
  5. sneaky - hmm. i looked up the dictionary definition of this one (sly, to use underhanded tactics). i think this feeds into manipulative a little bit, and jeff was definitely a sneaky lawyer. but when it comes to his personal relationships, jeff’s surprisingly straightforward. sure, he’s very guarded and you have to stick around for a bit to get to the earnestness. but once it comes, there’s no stopping it. 
  6. extremely dishonest - he’s definitely woven some serious lies in the past. and, sure, he’ll do things like lie to the group about being sick to get out of moving annie when he really just needed a day to himself (and it certainly would have been easier to simply tell his friends that truth), but he’s always truthful when it matters.

in summary, i think jeff’s an incredibly complex, believable, and broken character with loads of redeeming qualities. it’s okay if you don’t, but i love the character with all my heart and sometimes relate all too well to him. 

Originally posted by sherralotz

I was holding off on watching community but obviously I didn’t do a good job because I watched it and it’s still Tuesday. I am in tears at how perfect this was. The humor was actually so spot on and it finally felt like the characters were finally back to their genuine selves. I just need to vent about Jeff and Annie though because the way it went in this episode was just so beautiful, I really could not have asked for a better ending.

I’ve been a Jeff and Annie shipper since Debate 109 and it’s been a hell of a roller coaster ride. It hasn’t been terrible because there are obviously other elements of the show that I loved, but the relationship between Jeff and Annie was always somewhat frustrating, especially after the whole season 5 reveal. I was already bummed out especially with Troy leaving (because Troy and Abed forever), and then to end season 5 with the whole Jeff and Annie and then not even acknowledging it throughout season 6 made me super bummed to the point where I pretty much just gave up. I’m sorry to say this but I only continued watching the show as a force of habit and as much as I liked the new characters like Frankie and Elroy, it just wasn’t the same. Although I am glad that they were completely different characters and not just used as replacements for Troy and Shirley. I keep going off point. There’s just so much to say but ok, let me go back to Jeff and Annie.

This finale was perfect for me in so many ways. First of all, it was closure. I’m sure some people would have wanted Jeff and Annie to actually end up together but I’m happy that they ultimately didn’t (for now). If you follow Annie’s character throughout the seasons, she went from naive girl with a crush on an older guy, to a young woman who has goals outside of relationship with boys. (Ok, let’s leave the whole pretending to be Jeff’s wife thing out of the way. Or, we can look at it not as a dream to be married to Jeff, but as a dream to finally be recognized as a mature woman). Yes, I was frustrated with the lack of Jeff and Annie throughout the seasons, but I was also relieved that Annie finally realized there was more to her life than pining away at some guy. I never wanted her to be that girl in shows whose life revolves around a guy. She was always driven as a character, but she learns to kind of let loose a little bit and set realistic goals for herself. As a character on the show, I always saw her as a mixture of the best qualities of Britta and Shirley (I mean I love Britta and Shirley but tbh I always thought their characters were always too exaggerated in some way). 

The most beautiful thing about this, though, is that Jeff recognizes this. We finally see as viewers, just how much he cares about and loves Annie. Even in his own dreams he puts her happiness in front of his. Let me emphasize that point. In his own FANTASY where he can literally control whatever he wants because it’s only in his mind, even then, her happiness comes first. Even more than that, this is a fantasy of a guy who didn’t believe in marriage and was adamant about his stance on being against marriage. I mean, they’re not only married, but in his fantasy, they have a son. This is so big to me. Because in episode 11 of season 3, we find out that Jeff’s thoughts on marriage were triggered by his own father leaving them. He’s so confident in his love for Annie that in his fantasy, he shows a whole other side of commitment by having a child, as if he is 100% sure that he and Annie will be together forever.

But like I mentioned, Annie’s happiness comes first and he knows that Annie has her own goals she’d like to achieve. So even in his own fantasy he knows she won’t be happy. When they kissed goodbye, and their whole conversation there, it was perfect. I’d just also like to point out that it’s not really the end of Jeff and Annie. We have to realize as viewers that there is a significant age difference, which Annie finally brings up, and this means that they are at different points of their lives. No, the age difference is not gross, and I don’t think Jeff or Annie sees this as gross, but they know that they really are at different points in their lives. Annie didn’t call him old. She just said that he’s older. Who knows what will happen in the future. At this time though, I mean, Jeff has already had two different careers. Annie is just getting through college after realizing what it is that she really wants to do with her life. 

What started out as Jeff plotting to try to get Britta into bed ends with Jeff letting go of someone he loves (not just physically attracted to) because he knows that’s what would be better for Annie. Not that he could make her stay, but he accepts this while at the same time acknowledging his feelings for her. It’s just really beautiful.

Mea Culpa:  We Are Seeing a Resolution Play Out


About Jeff and Annie.

We are seeing the resolution to the “Basic Sandwich” dangling plot thread. We’re seeing it play out in real time, and in very subtle ways.

Yeah. I’m as shocked as anyone else that I’ve boarded this train. If you told me three days ago that I’d be buying a ticket, I would’ve called you nuts because, as far as I could tell there was very little movement in addressing it, let alone resolving it.

But then I did a rewatch. I do tend to rewatch episodes, mostly because I tend to like most Community episodes much better on rewatch once I get my admittedly high expectations for funny/character work out of the way and can watch the episode for what it is.

This tended to be the case this time around. Except for “Basic Email.” That episode is still crap, IMHO, for a lot of reasons I don’t want to get into here.

Anyway, in watching WHAT IS, I, well, began to notice a few things.

I kind of feel a little dumb right now.

Keep in mind, I was never one of those shippers who bought into the idea that there’d be some big moment where we’d go AH-HAH! I never was one of those shippers who thought it would be addressed right away (I figured the middle-third of episodes at best).

In fact, my own stated wish was to have them subtly building in the background until we hit the resolution.

This is why I feel kind of dumb right now. Because I am getting exactly what I hoped for. I expected a breadcrumb trail similar to what was laid down in S2 for the Jeff/Britta are having secret sex reveal. What we are getting is something a lot more subtle. There are clues there, but I think the flaw is that it’s might be too subtle for many people who aren’t particularly invested in this particular storyarc. It’s definitely going to be dismissed by people who anti-ship.

But, I think I’ve got some interesting evidence on my side. And it all comes down to one thing:  a significantly changed dynamic.

More under the cut. Beware, it’s hella long.

Keep reading

I See Your Value Now: Asperger's and the Art of Allegory

(Also at the Medium.)

I’m in my therapist’s office, talking about friendship. I’ve been struggling with emotional intimacy and honesty—my whole life, actually, but it’s caused some more acute problems recently, which is why I’m back here now. In more practical terms, I’m here because my therapist is willing to schedule appointments via e-mail; when I’m fucked up, phone calls are insurmountably challenging. 

Last week we talked about how hard it is for me to articulate emotions, and how much I obsess over precision of language, and how closely that’s linked to how scared I am of miscommunication, of lying by the sheer act of trying to name something so personal and subjective and dependent on factors more complicated than any sentence or word or idiom can every convey.

I’m a professional writer.

The irony is not lost on me.


My homework this week has been to look at the very few relationships in which I feel comfortable talking about my feelings—especially negative feelings—and find common factors.

The answer, once I stumbled across it, was so stupidly obvious that I cracked up, and then I spent half an hour writing it down and tweaking the phrasing so I could be sure that when I told him he would hear what I meant.

The common factor, I tell my therapist, is cultural frame of reference. The only way I am consistently comfortable communicating feelings is via broad fictional allegory. The friends who know me best—not just likes-and-dislikes-and-interests, but things more fundamental and less articulable; the friends I’m willing to let see me fucked up; the friends I text at 3 AM when my world is falling apart; are the friends who read the same comics I do.

I tell him that I have a folder on my desktop labeled “feelings” that is mostly panels clipped from comics and Community gifs.

I tell him that I think maybe we should talk about Autism Spectrum disorders.

He tells me he’s been meaning to bring that up for a while now.


The Lady-Friend and I have been binge-watching Community. We love it a lot, for a lot of reasons, but Troy and Abed are our favorites. We have the kind of romantic relationship that is substantially goofy and involves a fair lot of best-bro grade-school-slumber-party nonsense; and while Troy and Abed are about ten years our junior, we are tickled as hell to see our very specific demographic of “adults who are still pretty into blanket forts” reflected in popular media.

Abed is my favorite character because Abed makes sense to me in a way that the other characters don’t. Abed is simultaneously exceptionally perceptive and exceptionally dense. Abed celebrates his interests in an obsessive, minutiae-focused way. Abed talks in pop cultural references and parses his experiences in general and interpersonal dynamics in particular by drawing parallels the structure and terms of fictional storytelling—although when he does it, there’s an extra layer to the joke because he is, of course, a committee-written fictional character on a sitcom.

In the pilot of Community, early on, there’s this exchange: Jeff, the leading man, who’s kind of an asshole, says, “Abed, I see your value now,” and Abed, genuinely excited, answers, “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

I thought for a long time that the joke was that Jeff only saw people’s value when they were of direct use to him; that he thought he was being snide but actually saying something pretty nice. It turns out that the joke is that Abed interprets it as a compliment.

It’s often hard for me to tell when people are joking. It’s usually hard for for me to tell when they’re making fun of me.

I can’t imagine a more reassuring compliment than being told that someone sees my value.


I don’t tell my therapist this, but I do tell him about the Season 1 episode “Contemporary American Poultry,” in which the study group takes over the school as a chicken-fingers-themed crime family with Abed at the top.

Jeff likes being in charge, so he goes off to try to get Abed to stop. “The mafia movie is over,” he tells Abed.

And Abed, who has an organizational chart behind him listing everyone’s likes and needs, says, “I’m not doing a mafia movie. In fact, I don’t need to use movies or tv shows to talk to people anymore. Before, I only needed them because the day-to-day world made no sense to me, but now, everyone’s speaking the same language: chicken. I understand people, and they finally understand me.”

I thought, Yes. That makes perfect sense.

And then I thought, Man, that sounds so nice.


I like fiction, because fiction makes sense in ways that the real world doesn’t. Because in fiction, I have as much—more, often—interpretive resources as anyone else; because we’re all working from the same basic data set.

“I wish I were a fictional character,” I tell The Spouse, over and over, year after year. Fictional characters are fundamentally functional. They serve a purpose. If I were fictional, I would be of use. I could be everything anyone needs or wants me to be, with no self to get in the way. I could have a world with rules. I could be distilled into language, not lost again and again in imperfect translation.


The Spouse is extremely emotionally fluent. He’s all about those tight personal connections. He falls in love often and easily. He’s a feelings dude, and he uses words broadly and evocatively. He doesn’t get why I’d rather write about feelings than talk about them in person—to him, the personal contact and the connection are inseparable.

When I try to talk about how I feel—about things that matter—spontaneously, I trip over my own tongue. I drop out mid-sentence, go silent, trying to parse my thoughts. Eye contact distracts and panics me.

I’m fascinated by the way people interact, by the subtle languages of movement and physical cues and word choice and contact. I study it obsessively without ever quite managing to bridge the theory-practice gap.

I write out notes for important phone calls.

I write out notes for important conversations.

I practice facial expressions in the mirror.

I practice inflection in the shower.

I have never not done these things.

For a very long time, I assumed everyone did them.


I tell all of this to my therapist, and I also tell him that I’ve realized over the last few months that the experience I’ve always characterized as empathy is not, in fact, the same thing most of the people around me mean when they say “empathy.” Mine is more like very, very well-honed pattern recognition. I am a good listener. I give very good advice. I am very good at noticing and articulating patterns and motivations people don’t recognize in themselves.

I identify with very few of them.


It’s not that I don’t care about other people. It’s not that I don’t have feelings, or that mine are somehow different. I think they’re probably the same as anyone else’s feelings, but I don’t interact with them in ways that make sense by the rubrics I’ve grown up learning, or the ones the people around me seem to apply.


I have trouble with relationships in which I don’t feel like I’m of use—in which I don’t have something concrete to offer. I am much better at the explicit economy of professional relationships than the more nebulous territory of friendships. When it’s not explicit, I find it immensely difficult for me to eke out what’s expected of me.

Social rules don’t come instinctually to me; I look for patterns and cobble together crude rubrics based on them. In school, I got teased a lot, often under the loose pretense of friendship; as a result, I don’t really trust most people who seem to like me unless I can also discern a concrete reason that they’d value my company.


This clip is from Season 3, Episode 16 of Community, “Virtual Systems Analysis”:

They’re in the Dreamatorium, which is where Abed and Troy and now Annie play make-believe. The Dreamatorium is Abed’s territory—he’s the one who comes up with scenarios, makes the rules—but Annie, in a fit of pique, fucks with the cardboard engine so that instead of his mind, it’s filtered through other people’s feelings and needs.

Abed interprets the result as a world without Abed.


This is a theme that will come up again. In Season 5, Episode 6, Abed screws up his budding relationship with a girl named Rachel (whom I mostly think of as Coat Check Girl because the fact that a character I identify that closely with is dating a character with the same name as me messes with my system). Near the end of the episode, he offers a “third-act apology”—complete with a pal providing the trope-requisite rainstorm via a watering can and stepladder. It’s a pretty recent episode, so I couldn’t find embeddable video, but here’s a screencap of Abed being sincere and damp:

And here’s the dialogue:

Coat Check Girl: Abed, this is adorable.

Abed: Just because it’s adorable doesn’t mean it’s not important. Listen. I’ve been accelerating our relationship because I’ve been worried I wouldn’t pass a lot of the tests. I wanted you to move in because I thought if Annie was around, I’d have less chance of screwing things up.

CCG: You’re not screwing things up, though.

Abed: That’s good to know.But the problem with me will always be that I can never know for sure. There’s not a huge amount of people in my life that haven’t eventually kicked me out, and I don’t always see it coming. I don’t want it to happen with you.

CCG: Well, don’t manipulate me and don’t keep secrets from me and we’ll probably be okay.

Abed: Cool.

CCG: It stopped raining.

Abed: Yeah, it sure did.


The pop-culture characters with whom I most closely identify—the ones in the panels and screencaps I employ as emotional surrogates—are Scott Summers, post-death-and-resurrection Doug Ramsey, and Abed Nadir.

Here are some things they have in common:

They’re outsiders. They don’t really—click—with the people around them, even when they’re central to organizations or storylines.

They’re bad communicators; or they’re good communicators in ways that serve them well under only very specific circumstances.

They’re bad at feelings and overwhelmed by intimacy.

They’re pedantic and precise.

They’re often demanding and difficult, and as often paradoxically socially naive.

They’re utility-oriented. They have trouble adjusting to or relaxing in scenarios in which they don’t fill a specific function.

They bond hard and fast. They’re fiercely loyal and protective—

—and they’re rarely the ones to leave.


Like Abed, I have trouble imagining a place for myself in any world not of my own making. I see other people’s tolerance of and interest in me as a finite resource, one I can renew to a limited extent by being of use, but which will eventually and inevitably run out. I have a long and serial history as a flavor of the month. I assume—based on precedent, although the individual countdowns can vary significantly—that most of my friendships are running on borrowed time.

I am aware of the things that make me an appealing companion. I’m very smart and passionate. I can be fun and whimsical and weird and wildly creative. I’m generous and loyal.

I’m even more aware of the things that make me difficult to tolerate in more than limited doses. I’m too intense. I fixate: if we both love the Wachowski Speed Racer, I will be baffled when you don’t want to watch it again immediately, and again after that. You will realize that the eclectic-but-surprisingly-in-depth frame of reference that first impressed you is both badly uneven and the product of a compulsive tendency to get swept away in minutiae. My enthusiasm will go from charming to smothering. That smart, incisive analysis you admired will get in the way of your ability to just fucking enjoy things. What looked like whimsy will turn out to be weird and sometimes weirdly hostile compulsion and pickiness. The appeal of passion and conviction will be offset by extremely rigid ethical rubrics and a tendency to be ruthlessly judgmental and dismissive. I’ll goad you into arguments, and I won’t trust you unless you push back. You will realize that I am not scintillating when I don’t have the luxury of a delete key, or pithy without a forced character limit.When we talk, you’ll notice how often and how long I pause mid-thought. That I don’t really make eye contact. You’ll try to hug me, and your feelings will be hurt when I flinch.

You’ll realize that you don’t really know me as well as you thought you did, and you won’t really see a clear path from where you are to where you think the next landing ought to be. You’ll try to understand me, and I’ll push back, hard, like you’re trying to take something away. You’ll try to comfort me when I’m hurting, and I’ll either lie or run.

Many of these are not things I’m capable of changing. I know this because I have tried so hard, over and over, in every way I can find, nonstop, for thirty-one years. I can fake it, sometimes, but if you value genuineness and emotional intimacy, that’s going to get old, too.

Eventually, you’ll get fed up. You’ll leave. It’s okay. I probably would, too.

That’s why I keep you at arm’s length.


Well, it’s part of why I keep you at arm’s length. I’m not a people person.

People interest me. I care about some ferociously and passionately. I care about most in at least an abstract humanitarian sense.

But people also baffle and exhaust me, and I don’t trust most of them. They generalize and assume based on very limited data sets. They touch me. From behind. In crowds. They ignore the words I have so carefully arranged to say exactly what I want them to say and project their own insecurities and needs and prejudices. They treat me like an extension of them; they subsume who I am and what I say into whatever role they want or need me to fill and then punish me when I fail to follow a script I can’t see.

I wish I were better at being what people want me to be. I wish they’d tell me what that was.

I wish I knew what the rules were.

I wish there were rules.


“What you’re describing sounds a lot like the experience of someone with Asperger’s Syndrome,” my therapist tells me. I point out that according to the DSM-V, Asperger’s Syndrome no longer exists as a discrete disorder.

He laughs.


I’ve been reading about AS, and what I read resonates with eerie specificity. This makes sense in ways that attempts to parse myself almost never do. It’s like I had a huge volume of conflicting and confusing data, and suddenly, somehow, stumbled across the equation into which most of it plugs: Einstein making the connection between the transit of Venus and the theory of relativity.

Under the circumstances, the idea that there is a system that makes sense, even one that’s still theory at this stage, provides an intense but very tautological sort of relief.


We talk about diagnosis, and decide there’s no real reason to pursue an official one.

My therapist doesn’t do diagnostic testing, and it’s not a process I trust anyway: my last experience, in college, was grounds-for-a-complaint-to-the-APA horrific. An official diagnosis wouldn’t confer any real advantages: it’s not like AS is medicable; I function on a level that makes it highly unlikely I’d ever seek the kind of services that require an official diagnosis; and I’m self-employed, so reasonable workplace accommodations are kind of a moot point—my career is basically a reasonable accommodation. It’s also really, really expensive. And while I’m acutely aware of the cliche of semi-self-diagnosis, and the attendant baggage, it’s kind of a drop in the waterfall when it comes to social awkwardness.

Ethically, my therapist can’t say “probably” or “I suspect” in context of anything that sounds like a diagnosis, but he says that it seems like it would be a good idea to proceed as-if, which is good enough for me.


This is how I explain it to The Spouse:

“Imagine I’m a computer—I know, I know, just embrace the cliché—and we’re in a world where the overwhelming majority of computers run Windows, and we’ve all kind of always assumed that I’m just kind of buggy, because while a lot of things function the way you expect them to, some things don’t or require weird workarounds, and some things just don’t run at all.

"And then, imagine figuring out that oh, shit, I’m not a Window’s box. I’m a Mac with a Windows skin. And there’s enough UI overlap that people who go in assuming I’m running Windows will just assume that I’m buggy. And, again, there’s overlap—a lot of the functions and skills translate—but not all.”

My therapist likes the operating system analogy because it implies deviation more than dysfunction, which also fits with my read. The catch, though, is that disorder and dysfunction aren’t just intrinsic qualities: they’re also contextual. It doesn’t really matter how well your OS runs if you make up less than a tenth of a percent of the software market.


This is what scares me: If this is real and right—which I’m fairly certain it is—there are probably things of which I’m fundamentally incapable.

I mean: there are plenty of things of which I’m fundamentally incapable. I am not ever going to be an elite athlete or the CEO of a fortune-500 company. But those are exceptional things. These are normal things—things most people assume to be universal. Things that are supposed to be universal.

I always assumed that if I tried harder and longer, if I approached those problems from enough different angles, someday something would click.

It’s frightening to realize that fake-it-‘til-you-make-it may not apply. That there might be functions I can’t replicate. That there are gulches that can’t be bridged.

I’m not usually a very jealous person, but the idea that there are common terms on which the Spouse and the Lady-Friend can relate to their other partners but not to me fucking wrecks me.

That I’ve come to terms with the idea of people leaving doesn’t mean I’m not also scared of being alone.


The Spouse and I have known each other since we were eleven. We’ve been together, in some form or another, for more than half our lives, and we’ve grown up shaped by that mutual proximity. We speak a common language of decades of shared experience and inside jokes; of the books over which we first made friends; of movies and games and comics; of our shared sense of humor, which is weird and oblique and so deadpan that other people sometimes have trouble picking up on it.

The Spouse is a sysadmin; when I tell him the operating-system analogy, he thinks for a minute. “No,” he ways. “They’re Macs, and you’re running Linux.”

Oblique approaches and elaborate metaphor aren’t that intuitive for him, any more than feelings are for me—but he understands how much the precision of the analogy matters, even if he doesn’t quite get why.

This is how he explains: “You’re not something totally foreign to other people: you’re based on the same core. Maybe your interface isn’t intuitive for most users, and you can’t run all the same software, but for someone willing to put in the time, you’re more versatile and better oriented for a lot of specific advanced functions and customization.”

This is what I hear: I see your value.

It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

It's not about whether Johnlock should happen... it's about why it NEEDS to happen

After season 3 of Sherlock aired, my perspective on many important things has shifted.

A few things to know about me. I grew up in a fairly conservative town. Nobody talked about sexuality. Ever. I had never had a conversation with someone who was openly gay until my senior year, and to hear someone talk about having preferences other than the opposite gender was eye-opening. I wasn’t prejudiced. I didn’t care that he was gay. But listening to him talk about his experiences made me look back on my own life and notice how close-minded I’d been. I remember once, for instance, a conversation I’d had with my boyfriend at the time about gay marriage. He was very against it (ironic, considering I just found out he’s been dating a man for the last few months) and asked what my opinion on the subject was. Partly out of ignorance, and partly out of a desire to impress him, I said I didn’t have an opinion one way or the other. It didn’t impact me, as a straight person, so I didn’t care.

Okay. Correction. A LOT of ignorance.

Fast forward a few years. I’m a theater major at Cornish College of the Arts in Seattle. This year, I took a Contemporary Theater Studies course, wherein we studied many different critical theories. Among the most impactful to me were Deconstruction, Feminism, and Queer theory. We talked a lot about the patriarchal construction of our society and how it impacts everyone regardless of gender, race, sexual orientation etc. For the purposes of the class, we specifically talked about how the heteronormative lens affects how we create and look at theater, film, and the media. Here are just a few of the conclusions we came to:

1. The patriarchy conditions us to see relationships between men and women as inherently and automatically riddled with sexual tension. There is no such thing as a purely platonic relationship between a man and a woman, especially in mainstream media.

2. Similarly, the patriarchy demonstrates to us that a relationship between two people of the same gender cannot be sexual except under certain conditions. For instance, two women can be together if they play into the (stereotypical) straight male fantasy of two “hot” lesbians hooking up. To give an example: Grey’s Anatomy, and the relationship between Callie and Arizona. Both are very attractive women. They are pushed together, partly, by Mark Sloan, a straight white male who regularly comments on how hot lesbians are. Not saying that their relationship isn’t a big step in representation for LGTB in television, but the writers were very careful in how they went about portraying such a relationship without losing viewership. Curious that such a relationship between two men has yet to be seen on a show with that big of a following.

3. The patriarchal structure tells us that men cannot/should not openly display their emotions, especially with one another. deducingbbcsherlock has an interesting post about the phrase “bromance.” I suggest checking it out; basically, it points out that when two men have an “abnormally” close friendship, society tells them they have to quantify it with the phrase “bromance” to demonstrate that they feel closer than friends, but aren’t homosexual.

Still with me? Let’s get to the heart of things, shall we.

Fast forward another couple of months to when Sherlock, season 3 aired. Ohmydeargod, I had forgotten how much I loved this show. Ask my roommates; I’ve become obsessed. I rewatched every episode a dozen times, along with every film Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman have been in. (As an aspiring actress, I will say I believe them to be two of the best currently working actors. Maybe I’m biased. Who cares?) When that didn’t satisfy my obsession anymore, I strayed into the world of fanfiction, which I hadn’t done since sophomore year of high school. I even started writing my own.

Here’s the thing – I kept desperately wanting to see Sherlock end up with somebody. Maybe this was a byproduct of the emotionally charged episode “The Sign of Three” where Sherlock leaves John’s wedding alone. It just didn’t seem fair to me! John got to be happy! Why couldn’t Sherlock? I kept reading fanfiction that paired Sherlock with various partners – Molly, Irene, OFCs… In my own fanfiction, I had mapped out a relationship with an original character. But something didn’t seem right.

Then I started to notice that the most common ship was John/Sherlock. I scoffed at this idea initially, having heard the show creators and cast members blatantly disregard this part of the fandom. If they say it isn’t going to happen, it isn’t going to happen. Right? The fans were trying too hard to read something into nothing.

Then I thought about how the showrunners were denying Johnlock rumors. To paraphrase the most common argument: It’s impossible these days to have two men on television be really close to one another in a platonic way without having people suspect there’s something going on between them.

THAT made me stop and think. These statements made absolutely no sense. There isn’t a show on television that has a homosexual couple as the main focus. There simply isn’t. There are PLENTY of shows that have two HETEROSEXUAL men as friends. Just to name a few:

1. Joey and Chandler on Friends

2. Merlin and Arthur on Merlin

3. Troy and Abed on Community

4. Kirk and Spock on Star Trek

5. Cory and Shawn on Boy Meets World

6. Turk and J.D. on Scrubs

7. Gus and Shawn on Psych

8. Castiel and Dean on Supernatural

9. Nick/Shmidt/Winston on New Girl

10. George and Jerry on Seinfeld

Yeah. We never see platonic friendships between two men without thinking they’re going to have sex. Ever.

Now let’s try to name shows that feature ONLY platonic friendships between men and women.

*cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket*

There aren’t any that I can think of. Hell, even CBSs take on the Sherlock Holmes stories (Elementary) changed John Watson into a woman so that they could safely create sexual tension between the characters. I’m only on the first few episodes of the show, but from what I’d seen it would be a TV miracle if those two don’t end up screwing at some point.

Anyway, back to my conversion to a die hard Johnlock shipper. I started dipping into Johnlock fanfiction. Mostly, it was out of curiosity. I wanted to see what all the hype was about. It didn’t take long for me to realize why none of the other ships worked. John and Sherlock make sense together. Their personalities compliment each other well; John seems to be the only person that Sherlock can stand to be around for any length of time. The chemistry between them, whether platonic or not, is something that’s never been seen before on TV. Fans see this, too – even the ones who don’t ship the pair. Amanda Abbington received death threats when she was cast as Mary simply because fans worried she would come between Sherlock and John’s friendship. (Let it here be noted that I do not in any way condone that kind of behavior. It’s disgusting, frankly. She’s an actress playing a character – a person completely separate from Mary – with her own life outside of the show). In the relationship that John and Sherlock have, it would be so easy to tip the balance from friends to more than friends. It’s not a huge leap. Minor characters in the series already think they’re shacking up together. We’re reminded of that (in some small way) in almost every episode.

Point is, I fell in love with the idea of Johnlock. I read some really incredible fanfiction, and one that I would like to shout out to in particular is Performance in a Leading Role by MadLori. If you search the John/Sherlock pairing on fanfiction.net, it has the 2nd most favorites (2nd to MadLori’s other incredible fic, Alone On the Water). Performance in a Leading Role is an AU fic that features John and Sherlock as actors instead of crime-solving buddies. I’ll admit, I thought the idea was hokey when I first read the summary. I wasn’t even sure about it a few chapter in. But about halfway through, I realized the brilliance of it: MadLori, with the help of BBC’s characters, highlights the COMPLETE lack of LGTB representation in mainstream media. By the time Sherlock and John become a couple, they are forced to hide their relationship from the public to avoid gay bashing and the hit they assume coming out will have on their careers. It’s heartbreaking, unfair, and incredibly upsetting. Read it now.

Along with reading Johnlock fanfiction, I started reading all the theories and metas I could find here on Tumblr that promote Johnlock and point out all the subtextual evidence in the show that indicates that’s where the showrunners are headed with John and Sherlock’s relationship. I want to believe them. I really do. And not just from the perspective of a squealing fangirl who wants to see John and Sherlock get it on. I WANT JOHN AND SHERLOCK TO GET TOGETHER BECAUSE IT WOULD CHANGE THE FACE OF TELEVISION FOREVER. The world NEEDS a strong homosexual couple represented on TV. On popular TV, no less. But I fear, just like every other Johnlock fan out there, that the showrunners aren’t brave enough to make that happen. Worse, I fear that they’re laughing at people who want to see John and Sherlock together. After all, they’ve had no problem scoffing and insisting their relationship to be platonic thus far. Let’s keep hoping that’s all a hoax to throw us off our game.

That ended up being about five times as long as I wanted it to be, but I hope I’ve made my point. If you’re a Johnlock fan, too, or you think that LGTB needs more representation on television, please reblog this post. And I’ll have you know, I’m now reworking my fanfic to include eventual Johnlock. Because I’ve been denying it long enough. There you go. I’m tossing my support in for John and Sherlock. I’ve been converted. TJLC is real!

anonymous asked:

How is tumblr disapproving of interracial pairings/ships/relationships?

There’s a bunch of different ways, honestly, all cloaked in like five layers of nonsensery. 

  • The “they’re just platonic bros” type: These people will go to any lengths to deny the existence of chemistry between people of different races. These aren’t just people who don’t ship an interracial pairing, they’re people who dismiss the ship as entirely impossible because it would “ruin the great friendship between them.” Examples: Ichabod Crane and Abbie Mills, Turk and J.D., Shawn and Gus, Troy and Abed.
  • The “[character of color] and [white character] can’t be together because [white character] is supposed to be with [other white character]” type: These people really want you to know that it’s not about race, it’s just that they would just happen to prefer their white fave to be with any other white person rather than any person of color. Did you know that Doctor/Rose was generally regarded as a crackship, and a rather creepy and disturbing one at that, until Martha came along and expressed an interest? Sorry to bring Sleepy Hollow back into this, but I honestly believe that if Abbie were not on the show, the fandom would be just as distrustful of Katrina as they are of every female character on Supernatural, and the only reason they’re convinced of her perfection is because the alternative is admitting that Ichabod/Abbie is a legitimate possibility.
  • The “they’re turning their back on their culture” type: These people will do everything but call the people in an interracial relationship “race traitors.” It’s almost exclusively other white people I see doing this, but they’ll pretend to be so concerned about someone’s cultural identity so they can disapprove of interracial relationships while deflecting charges of racism with “no YOU’RE racist, I’m FIGHTING racism.”
  • The “I think everyone is as openly racist as me” type: These people somehow use interracial relationships to hate on everyone, even people who are totally detached from the relationship. For example, there’s this racist meme going around that’s a photograph of a family where the mom is black and the dad is white, and it’s captioned with thought bubbles. In it, he’s thinking “my friends dared me” and she’s thinking “financial security.” That manages to paint black women as unable to attain financial security on their own, as well as painting men of color (but specifically black men) as being fundamentally not financially secure. These racists use interracial relationship as a way to make fun of all people of color, even those who are not in them. They see an interracial relationship and decide the time for them to say every racist thing they’re thinking has come. See also: The incredibly racist “Daquan” meme. 
  • The “what do you mean an interracial relationship doesn’t need white people in it” type: These people might fall into one of the other categories here, but I’ve legitimately seen people saying Troy and Abed wouldn’t be an interracial relationship because neither of them is white. Same goes for Turk and Carla, despite the fact that Carla explicitly identifies as “Latina” and “not black” on the show, and multiple people, including both Turk and Carla, describe their relationship as interracial.
  • The “I’m concerned if a person of color tends to date white people but not when a white person dates other white people exclusively” type: Mindy Kaling came under a lot of fire for the fact that her romantic interests were mostly (if not all) white. Why didn’t Steve Carell come under the same fire when all his girlfriends on “The Office” were white? Why didn’t Amy Poehler come under the same fire when all of her boyfriends on “Parks and Recreation” were white? Why didn’t Tina Fey come under the same fire for all of her serious boyfriends being white on “30 Rock?” Why didn’t the production team behind “How I Met Your Mother” not come under the same fire when literally all of Ted Mosby’s girlfriends (and friends) were white?
  • The “I don’t date [race] people” or “I don’t find [race] people attractive” type: There’s a difference between never having dated outside your race and never being willing to. There is no non-racist reason to categorically rule out an entire race of people from your attractions, since there is no characteristic that is either universal or exclusive to any one race. I’m not saying you have to date anyone of that race who asks, and I’m not saying you have to find everyone attractive, but if their race is the reason you’re ruling them out, you’re a big ole racist. 

There’s also the flipside, people who are gross, creepy, and fetishistic about it:

  • The “I only date [race] people” type: The bizarro-world version of the last point above. You’re still saying people of that race are interchangeable and that you believe stereotypes about them. You’re still saying that there are universal, exclusive characteristics to one race. Have you ever met a white dude who says he only dates Asian women? Ask him why. I guarantee he will say at least two racist stereotypes about Asian women. If you’re only dating someone because of their race, you’re just as racist as the people who only rule people out because of their race.
  • The “I can’t be racist, my [romantic partner] is [race]” type: Being in an interracial relationship doesn’t exempt you from being racist. In fact, if you’re using your partner as a shield to deflect accusations of racism, you’re at least a jerk.
  • The “you should be grateful for my fetish” type: These are the type of people who run porn blogs dedicated to a specific race and then follow women of that race on tumblr in the hopes they might one day post nudes that can be reblogged. They’re the white people who talk about black men’s penis size as though that’s not a racist stereotype. They don’t understand why they’re being called racist, because in their mind, it’s a compliment. It’s objectively not a compliment, but these people really don’t care about the feelings of the people they fetishize, they just tell themselves it’s a compliment so they don’t feel like creeps.
  • The “give me a cookie for not being a white supremacist” type: Do you know how many other white people I’ve seen, both on tumblr and out in the real world, saying that they’re not exclusively attracted to white people, and would even be open to dating a person of color, and patting themselves on the back for not being quite as racist as Bob Ewell from “To Kill A Mockingbird.” You aren’t making some great stand for racial equality by not being repulsed at the idea of dating outside your race. Remember that episode of It’s Always Sunny where the waitress overhears Charlie saying the n-word, so he goes on a date with a black woman to the waitress’ coffee shop, just to prove he isn’t racist? Don’t be Charlie. 
  • The “I want to have beautiful mixed babies!” type: This is creepy as hell. You’re literally fetishizing infants, and not just infants, your own hypothetical children

I also get that, since tumblr is a microcosm of society as a whole, these attitudes are not exclusive to tumblr, and that not everyone on tumblr holds any of these attitudes. I also know that not everyone on tumblr is white, and I’m sure different racial communities have different attitudes towards interracial relationships, but I didn’t feel like it was my place to speak to those.

necessary jeff/britta meta.

previously on… 

after 5x07, I have seen many j/a shippers disliking this episode due to jeff/britta intensity. some of them say jeff admitting he still has feelings for britta is crappy, nonsense and things like that.

may I be the devil’s advocate here and ask why? (it’s gonna be a long thing.)

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