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andypantsx3 · 4 years

Text

statistically significant | 7 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

One month later

The Hero Awards certainly did not disappoint the second time around.

Though you’d spent the last few months in the company of some of these heroes, you couldn’t help but linger on the sidelines as they stalked their way down the walkway, staring in awe. As before, they were decked out in their absolute best, glimmering in jewel toned dresses with daring cutouts, or carving dashing profiles in well-fitted suits. Reporters and fans swarmed the sides of the red carpet, roiling like a pot reaching an agitated boil.

Their excitement was so palpable it hung heavy in the air, absolutely contagious. Maybe it was the fact that you knew some of the heroes up for awards tonight personally, but the potential of the evening simmered under your skin, a soft but constant hum of frenetic energy.

Or maybe some of that was due to the fact that this year, you’d been able to convince your boss to shell out the extra cash for the full dinner option. No longer would you need to smuggle snacks into your dress--this evening, you were a solid professional.

Which was a good thing, really, as the dress in question was not altogether any more secure or supportive than your dress from last year. You’d tried to angle for a thicker fabric and a little more of a conservative design, but several people had aired opinions on your choices over the course of the last few weeks, and you’d ended up in a thin swathe of delicate fabric that was really quite pretty, if you did say so yourself, but would support a grand total of maybe two popcorn kernels.

“You’re looking awfully forlorn over here,” someone chirped by your ear.

You startled, whirling to find Mina behind you, looking rosy and radiant in a form-fitting dress only a few shades lighter than her skin tone. Tiny pearls and clusters of glittering pink diamonds were stitched carefully into the fabric, winking at you as she moved, as bright as the conspiratorial grin she wore. She looked absolutely fabulous--she was one of the people who’d bullied you into the snackless gown, and you could begrudgingly admit that the girl had taste.

“Is it because a certain hotheaded blonde isn’t here yet?” she asked, a pink eyebrow going up.

You flushed. “Mina--oh my god, no. Not everything is about him, you know.”

She idly inspected a nail, looking supremely unconvinced. “Someone should tell him that, then.”

You huffed a laugh. The last time you’d been at the Awards, you’d said as much to him yourself. But a year later, the message was still not exactly being received.

“I’m actually thinking about dinner. I’m literally starving,” you complained, trying to divert the subject.

Mina nodded sympathetically. “I have a six pack and I still had to suck in to fit into this shit.”

As if on cue, your stomach growled sympathetically. You weren’t proud of what it was going to be like when you were finally unleashed on that multi-course dinner, but god it was gonna be worth it.

Several shrieks went up in the crowd of fans behind you, and you looked over your shoulder in alarm. Your pulse relaxed slightly when you realized it was just another pro sauntering down the walkway, but then the lights flickered off ashy blonde locks, and your pulse jumped violently. You jerked in surprise.

Mina didn’t even try to suppress her snort as you turned around fully, eyes pulled like a magnet to Bakugou as he stalked down the red carpet. Even looking like he would rather be anywhere else, and moving briskly over the carpet like he was going in for a kill, he still looked better than he had any right to. The charcoal of his suit--stitched with deep ruby flowers so dark they were almost black--brought out the piercing scarlet of his eyes, and your heart leapt into your mouth when those eyes cut over to meet yours.

His expression didn’t change, and he kept moving, but you flushed all the way from your head to your toes at the intensity behind his look.

Mina made a disgusted noise. “You’re both like a dog with a bone.”

You glared at her accusingly. “We literally just looked at each other.”

She clicked her tongue. “Please, he all but just pissed on you to mark his territory.”

Before you could reply, she called out, catching sight of Kirishima, and seized you to drag you over to say hello.

You let Mina drag you around for the next half hour, making polite conversation with her high school friends, a couple of friends from other agencies, and one fashion journalist who Mina had converted into a weekly drinking buddy. Mina kept the conversation light and easy, and you enjoyed yourself for the most part, though you almost passed out when a very distinct head of green curls materialized over her shoulder and then Midoriya Izuku--better known as the number one hero Deku--was smiling at you eagerly.

Things got even weirder when he appeared to not only already know who you were, but knew a great deal about your work, enough to ask some very detailed questions about your training model software that was going into production a couple months from now. Mina had the gall to cut into the conversation to call you both huge nerds, though she’d directly benefited from the model herself.

The conversation was unfortunately cut short when a calloused hand flung itself in front of your face and a rough voice sounded from over your shoulder. “Stop sticking your nose in my fucking business, Deku.”

You whipped around to find Bakugou glaring over your head at his former classmate. His hand closed around your shoulder and dragged you closer to him.

“I was just asking about her model, Kacchan,” Midoriya said patiently. “It’ll be great to be able to compare my movements directly with some of the other heroes in almost real time! Ojirou’s been trying out some new fighting forms and I was thinking I should try to adapt them to work into my shoot style--”

“Just because you couch it in nerd shit doesn’t mean you’re not trying to spy on me, fuckstick,” Bakugou said. “Stop poking your nose into my relationship like the town fucking gossip.”

Midoriya flushed a little, looking slightly chastened when you turned back to him in question. He gave you an embarrassed little smile. “I did want to meet you for reasons other than your model. Kacchan’s been my friend since I was little, and I wondered what kind of person could interest him so much he wanted my perspective on your work--”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bakugou demanded, but he wasn’t fast enough.

You perked up in interest. “He asked you what?”

Bakugou bristled like a cat being dangled over a bath, but Midoriya was paying him no mind. “Right after the last Hero Awards, he’d done all this research and he asked me about whether your model results lined up with some of the personal analysis that I was doing--”

“Deku,” Bakugou’s fingers tightened on your arm, growing alarmingly warm. “If you don’t shut the fuck up right now I’m going to punch all of your teeth straight down your throat and into your stomach.”

“Kacchan,” Midoriya protested, but he was interrupted by a call on the overhead for everyone to start taking their places in the theater interior for the awards to begin.

Bakugou used the distraction to pry you away from Midoriya. In the blink of an eye, he’d gotten you across the theater and was corralling you towards the Miruko agency tables, looking like he’d sucked on a lemon. You stifled a laugh. You’d wondered a couple months ago exactly how and when he’d figured out you were quirkless, and he’d once asked if you thought you were the only one who’d done their research.

If things were anything like you were starting to suspect, your demands that he do better at the Hero Awards had apparently aroused his interest in more ways than one.

You and Bakugou hadn’t exactly settled on formal terms for your relationship yet, and he still more often than not answered any of your interest with the assertion that you were the one with the crush on him. But this was more evidence--beyond the mysterious coffees that showed up at your workstation almost every morning--that your interest was more intensely reciprocated than he was willing to own up to.

By the time you’d settled at a table and been flanked by a grinning Mina and Kaminari, the awards were getting underway. They were thrilling to watch, something you’d had to miss out on last year when you needed to sneak out with a giant hole in the front of your dress. The heroes you’d worked with this year raked in an insane number of awards, and their elation was palpable, so thick you could almost taste it in the air. The pair of men with satyr horns were named the Best Rookie Duo, Miruko was awarded Takedown of the Year, and Kaminari clocked the Fastest Fight Win for a battle last month in which he’d rendered a villain with an aluminum quirk insensate only seconds into the fight.

A very unfortunate match up, you thought.

Mina nabbed an award for Fan Favorite, and in almost no time, it was the moment that you’d been nervously awaiting since nominations had gone out. You’d cheated, doing your own calculations behind everyone’s backs just to get a clearer picture of what his chances were, and you rather liked his odds, but there was always a chance it wouldn’t go how you thought. But this was the moment that Bakugou was up for Most Valuable Hero.

You barely heard any of the words the host was saying as he trotted out the names of the nominees, detailing some of their key accomplishments. He covered Bakugou's latest slew of assists and rescues, stats that made you feel kind of weirdly warm and proud, and then your ears strained for the syllables you’d hoped to hear.

And then:

“The winner is...our explosive number six, Ground Zero!”

It took everything in you not to leap out of your seat in joy, though something like a strangled squeal managed to escape you. Bakugou gave you an evaluating look as he got to his feet, stalking up on stage with his usual intensity.

As soon as he was up there, it struck you that allowing him time for an acceptance speech was maybe not a great idea. Graciousness was not exactly a strength of his.

“Obviously I’m the most valuable,” he growled into the mic. The stage lights glinted off his hair and teeth, making him look slightly more predatory than usual. “I didn’t need you fucks to tell me.”

A choking noise could be heard from Kirishima’s seat a couple tables over, and Mina put her head in her hands.

“What’s important is that I’m number six now and it only took me a month,” Bakugou’s head swiveled in the direction of Midoriya and you suppressed a groan. “Don’t get fucking comfortable. I’m gonna wipe the floor with every one of the top five, and next awards you’ll all be kissing my ass.”

He didn’t seem like he had much more he wanted to say, which was an incredible relief as both the host and nearby security looked about ready to wrestle him offstage.

He leapt neatly down from the stage, and when he made it back to the table, he didn’t take his seat again. Instead, he grabbed your arm, hauling you out of your seat, and then he was pulling you down the aisle and through the door to the reception area.

He pulled you past the snack table and you thought he was steering you towards the stairwell again, but at the last second he took a sudden turn, shoving you through a door into the women’s powder room. You didn’t even have enough time to formulate a question before he had you backed up against the wall, your shoulders hitting the cool stone at the same time his mouth hit yours.

His kiss was hot and demanding as always, and you lost yourself in it easily. He trailed a line of burning kisses down your neck and over your shoulder, making you shudder and shake when he lingered too long over any particular spot.

It was hard to think past the press of his body on yours, but you tried your best to formulate words.

“Katsuki--it’s--we’re in the women’s room,” you panted, embarrassed by the fact that even as you spoke, you were clutching him closer. “This is--what are you--? S-someone’s gonna come in.”

Bakugou broke apart from you just long enough to level a searching glance around the room and--spotting what he’d been looking for--hefting the trashcan in front of the door with a forceful kick to stop it shut.

“There, nerd. Now stop fucking complaining,” he rasped, immediately attaching his mouth back under your jaw. You shuddered.

“What the fuck has gotten into you,” you demanded, seizing a fistful of his blonde hair to pull him back from where he was leaving what felt like a very deep bruise over your collarbone.

He leveled you with a burning, red-eyed stare. “Like you don’t fucking know.”

You looked at him in question. “...I actually don’t.”

He tried to lean in again but you gripped his hair harder. “What? You can’t just keep throwing me up against walls, especially here. What is it with you and shoving me into weird places at the Hero Awards?”

Bakugou growled. “If you don’t shut the fuck up and let me do what I want, I’m gonna burn throught this dress too.”

You froze up, then glared at him accusingly. “I literally write the code that processes your rank. If you ever wanna come within sniffing distance of the top three, you won’t touch a single thread of this dress.”

The hands on you grew hot, but not hot enough to burn. Bakugou slid a calloused hand over the curve of your waist, thumb brushing the underside of your breast.

“God, the fuckin’ attitude on you,” he said, almost reverently.

You felt your face warm under his scrutiny as he leaned closer. “You wanna know what's gotten into me? I wanted to melt that entire fucking thing off you last year. You were so fucking mouthy, such a little brat to me. Wanted to rip your dress off and fuck you right in the stairwell until you forgot you’d ever even heard of numbers.”

You shivered. Bakugou smirked, eyes darkening, leaning back in to bite under your jaw. You realized you’d lost your grip on him and willed your fingers to cooperate again.

“I fucking won that stupid award because I let you boss me around. I've waited an entire year. Now you’re gonna let me do whatever I want with you.”

Your legs went out from beneath you but Bakugou was already there, catching you under your thighs and hauling you up onto the countertop between the sinks. Your back brushed the mirror, glass cold under your shoulder blades.

“Y--you know, if you actually want to be number one, you can’t make speeches like you did,” you babbled nervously as he filled the space between your thighs. “Your public approval rating is part of your ranking, right? It’s weighted right below rescues…”

Bakugou paid you no mind, fingers already searching over your back to find the zipper to your dress. He yanked it down with little ceremony, seizing the front of your bodice to pull it off of you.

“I don’t need to be fucking nice if I’m the one saving the day,” he announced imperiously, leaning down to capture a nipple with his mouth.

Your hips jerked, and he pressed a hand to your thigh, holding you back down against the counter. Dimly, you registered that the words were familiar. “N--not--ah!--not this again.”

Bakugou didn’t deign to respond, instead doing something absolutely mind-bending with his tongue. You swore loudly, catching a fistful of his jacket. “Fuck, Katsuki!”

A hot palm slid up your thigh, gathering up the soft material of your skirt until he could slip a hand underneath. Calloused fingers trailed over your core with obvious intention. You inhaled sharply when he pressed them into you, leaning up to cover your mouth with his again.

Bakugou had you squirming wildly against him in barely a minute, snorting when you tried to get a hand on his zipper.

“Want me that bad, nerd?” he asked, pressing forehead to yours in an oddly tender move.

“If you don’t hurry the fuck up I’m gonna finish things myself,” you threatened, though Bakugou did not look at all as if he believed you.

He helped you get his zipper down, taking himself in hand, but he stopped just as he brushed your entrance, leaning forward to bite another kiss into your mouth.

“Now it’s time for you to make good on your end of the bet,” he growled, a smirk growing over his features. “You’ll tell me I’m the best and I was right all along.”

You stilled underneath him, disbelieving. “Are you--are you fucking serious.”

Bakugou pressed forward, just enough for you to feel the pressure of him on your clit. You fought down a noise like a whimper. Damn him.

“I jumped two ranks,” he said. “You’ll tell me I’m the best if you want me, nerd.”

“I am not gonna beg for you like this,” you announced, though it sounded a little more like a question than you had wanted it to.

Bakugou brushed his thumb over your clit again and little sparks danced over the corner of your vision. “Mmm, you’re gonna scream.”

You felt something like a tension snap inside you. Fuck it. He was so annoying but holy shit if he wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever encountered. If he needed his ego stroked, well it wasn’t nearly as much as you needed your own stroking.

You grit your teeth. “Ugh, fine--just--you’re the best, and you were right all along. Now will you please--”

You didn’t even get to finish before he was sinking into you, narrow hips fitting flush with your thighs. You swore at the feeling of fullness, and then he was moving, picking up into a frantic pace. He leaned forward, sealing his mouth over yours to swallow all the little noises you were making. It was mere minutes before you were shivering underneath him again, moving your hips to meet his, desperate for more, Katsuki, more.

“Ah fuck--so fucking good for me,” he grunted against your mouth, giving a particularly hard thrust, and that was all it took to unravel you.

You stifled a scream in the thick fabric of his jacket, arching up into him. He cursed and followed after you with a few more short thrusts, crushing you against the counter when he let his weight go slack.

You panted underneath him, catching your breath while your fingers slowly unclenched themselves from the hem of his suit jacket. Bakugou rubbed his face in the hollow of your shoulder, radiating smug satisfaction.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, nerd?” he rasped, biting down lightly where he’d left the hickey earlier.

You pulled back, looking into his face again. He looked far too pleased with himself, but he was so handsome like this, all messy hair and a kiss darkened mouth. Your irritation with him fizzled out a little.

He flashed you a predatory grin. “You said it yourself--I'm the fucking best.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop your hand from coming up and tangling in his hair. “Shut the fuck up.”

Bakugou, predictably, did not look as if he was going to shut the fuck up at all. So you took matters into your own hands, and leaned in and kissed him again.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia #bnha #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou

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eddiebaresgazebos · 4 years

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Beautiful Trauma

*Location* Canada Toronto 1985

The snow fell down heavy. Leaving a beautiful pure white mist behind like a paranormal entity delicately fluttering across a dark room being lit by the moonlight blooming like a snow drop on a beautiful springtime day. This world has many mysteries, horrors and dark secrets that not even everyone can come to terms with no matter how hard they try.

Kimberly Rough Watson is a petite girl for her 17 years of age, withholding a pasty white complexion, deep emerald eyes anyone could be possessed by and the richest shade of caramel locks that trailed down to the very ends of her back. Kimberly in reality was a “sad” girl always looking into the latest crime cases and keeping every snippet of Crime articles containing horrific detail about Milk carton kids, Certain Serial Killers, conspiracy’s and the most spine chilling thing of all exposed experiments kept top secret for years. It gave the girl mixed feelings of amusement and fascination what went through the average humans brain to make them think such despicable thoughts? Was there something in their backgrounds that snapped them into the sinister infamous killers they are known for today? All of Kim’s thoughts were put on holt as she was put into a feeling of great shock when a violent tapping sound came from her window slowly and hesitantly picking up the thickest book she owned of her bed titled “ The secrets of a serial killer” for her protection, peeping her head slightly out from behind her mahogany coloured curtain’s all traces of crippling anxiety and blinding fear taking control over her entire body, plastering her into place like when you use a thick, sticky white substance to plaster wallpaper onto a painfully dull wall when moving into a new house.

{tap, tap,tap} the noise came again only more violent this time Kimberly in this moment becoming blinded by fear with every tap against her window.By the seventh tap something snapped in the back of Kimberly’s mind and her anxiety and fear was exchanged for shear fits of rage “how dare someone or something do this to her in her own house” still hesitant the poor girl gathered all traces of courage she had and picked her book up leaving it protrude over her head, levelled exactly to damage whatever was bothering her and attacking her window. “one…..two…….” counting slowly in her head ready to attack Kim took a breath after each count “THREE” Kimberly screamed in her head pulling back the drapes protecting the secrets of her room from the outside world and shot the book out of her window in sheer fits of aggression, crippling anxiety and paranoia. “OUCHHHHHH FRICKIN TAP DANCING JESUSE!!!” a familiar voice screamed out in agony Kimberly looked out her window analysing with great care for who she hit and after a few seconds of analysis she concluded that she hit her best and only friend a tallish boy withholding a tanned skin tone with the cutest of freckles to compliment his face , soft chocolate coloured eyes in which anyone could get lost in and deep brown hair neatly cut and styled that went by the name of Jack Hunter Andison splattered onto the floor like a fly being smashed against a wall. “Oh well done Kim you’ve done it again” a quick thought passed through Kimberley’s brain as she raced down the stairs to aid her friend back to health. “Oh, Jack I’m so sorry, I didn’t know it was you” The petite girl screamed in sorrow and guilt

“No, no” Jack insisted “Surely it was my fault, I mean its not everyday you get stones attacked at your window and spattered back with a book onto the sidewalk” Jack laughed in pain and embracement from the events which just occurred. “What did you come here for Jack?” Kimberly askes with a hint of interest in her voice as she carefully aided Jacks bruised head, Jack took a few moments to answer thinking with great concentration on how to spill the news.“Well.” Jack winced in pain as Kim aided his injury “You know about the Russian Sleep experiments from the 1940’s right?” “Oh boy! Have I ever, it’s so fascinating about the events that occurred and how the human body reacts to certain things Jack!” Kim’s voice projecting the happiness in her voice, this was one of the worlds mysterious experiments that intrigued her deeply. “ Well something like this has happened again recently Kim.. and.. there’s been one lone survivor. There bringing the survivor to our town for recognition and because this is the last place the creators of the experiment will look, nobody ever comes here to our crappy lil town” Jack explained in great detail slightly ranting towards the end.

Kimberly was hit with a wave of confusion soon after following with a massive wave of unanswered questions. “can we check this out in the library at school tomorrow Jack?” making it sound more of a fact then a question. “Yes but we have to be careful, if anyone finds out were getting ourselves into this were basically screwed” Jack stated in complete seriousness. The very next morning Kim and Jack arose before the slightest beam of sun touched the Earth giving it’s usual Morning greeting. Out onto the crunchy white blanket called snow a petite girl and lanky boy roamed the winter wonderland that was set before them like a black and white picture taken at Christmas time capturing the very essence of “perfect.” Soon after the duo set out onto their journey they were met by Juniper Hill founded in 1920 and the only high school in town, met to educate 600 this old fashioned bricked building educated 1200 making everyday a literal world war 3 creating a sense of irony since the second war ended in 1944, 14 years after the third held at the one place that was supposed to educate and protect juxtaposing its entire existence. Jack swung the doors open allowing the sudden violent bursts of heat to attack their cold body’s and bring a sense of hope to both teens, down the dark hallways a tapping of poorly made winter shoes made its calling down the one hallway which for once possessed all signs of peace, tranquillity and relaxation.Trailing down every book stall and looking through book after book they finally found what they had come for an entire essay had been written about this survivor with crimpled pictures provided and showcasing how old and long this case has gone undetected and heard. Two pairs of eyes scanned every detail being shown to ma kind the columns read { Project B~ Number 1927 formally known as Dylan Robinson as been under scientific measures for 8 years and in that time the founders have concluded that this experiment has given extraordinary results that could change the world however this experiment is very dangerous and with the results in the wrong hands mankind could be obliviated so all traces will be destroyed, results will be said to be conclusive and project B will be disposed of.} “This isn’t real” Kim said to herself

“It’s very real Kimberly” a sinister voice responded trying to mask it’s dark deeds with Jack sweet and husky like voice “What did you say Jack?”“Hmmmm” Jack managed to let a random noise escape this lips, Jack still deep reading and deeper in thought wasn’t properly listening to Kimberly and made some random noise to keep her from becoming angry and annoyed“Kimberlyyyy” the voice summoned again dragging out the Y in a very painful way “Non of this is real, Your crazy, Your Crazy Kimberly, Your never alone when your with meee, You’ll never be sane” Like when dragging chalk across a chalk board this dark and dangerous voice kept hitting Kimberly down shot after shot like a gun firing a full round of bullets intending to cause agony at any cost. Kim looked around her, her head becoming heavy. Body light like helium. The world begun to spin. The confused and scared girl turned to her only friend for comfort and support in this scary event that was taking place but her so called best friend just stood and stared withholding a stone cold face and neutral expression. Kimberly couldn’t believe him. She had been there for him for so long and when she really needed him he does nothing and just watches her, Jack’s face begun to change shape and slowly melt away his cute freckled face, adorable chocolate caramel eyes, his neatly cut hair it was all gone.The floor beneath Kim’s feet ripped open like when a saddo picks their grossly set ruby red scabby wounds the teen was submerged to a world of darkness and shadows as a shocking sensation attacked the left side of her rib cage.

A blurring light shot into Kimberly’s defenceless eye’s as the same shocking sensation as before weakened then disappeared leaving the poor girl’s body on the edge. “Yep it’s she’s been having a Episodes again Doctor” a mysterious voice emerged out of thin air“Take the Patient back to her room, well sort her treatment out later first I must see to Miss Gittus , she has been well mannered enough to return to her room were she has been placed with Miss Watson ” A tiny light blue room with two beds on one side of the room and another 2 on the other side of the room with a single wooden cabinet to contain house the patient’s essentials awaited Kimberly and her future roommate. Kimberly awoke from a peaceful slumber gazing out of the window into the outside world trying to remember what life she had outside of the Ward, her mind was blank the only thing she could think about was Jack. His soft caramel hair neatly styled back, his perfectly tanned face complimented by his freckles and his mesmerising deep brown chocolate eyes anyone was guaranteed to get lost in. Was her real? Or just part of the episodes Kim suffered from? Kimberly was suddenly pulled from her thoughts startled as to what was making a nose, slowly peering over the night Curtin that separated the beds Kimberly was shocked to see a girl in the bed next to hers. You see that bed had been empty ever since Kim was brought into the Mental Hospital which was exactly 5 months ago.

“Hello?” Kimberly questioned walking towards the mystery girl’s bed the girl just sat there staring at Kim blankly. “It’s okay” Kimberly protested in a innocent voice “I was scared to when I first arrived here but I’m not going to hurt you.” The girl still looked blankly at Kim who by this point had already given up trying to make her first friend in this place. The expressionless girl then got up out of her bed and exited the room with out a word. Kimberly soon following into the Dinner Room and she saw the girl from before just sat there with the same expressionless face staring down at a glass of water “Look you don’t have to talk to me, but I hate sitting alone and it’s good to have at least one person you can trust” Kimberly explained taking a seat opposite the girl “I’m Kimberly by the way what’s your name?” after a few agonising seconds the girl responded with “ Lauren” giving a weak smile after. “Well it’s nice to meet you Lauren, if you’ll let me I could show you around since it’s your first day here?” “Hmmm Okay deal” Kimberly took in every detail of the girl sitting before her taking note of her perfectly thin body, Beautiful brown ish eyes which reminded her of Jack’s and light brown locks trailing down past her shoulders. Although Kimberly didn’t believe in love at first sight she believed in that single moment that this Girl was the most mesmerizingly gorgeous person she had ever seen, in some ways Kimberly saw Lauren as an Angel all Elegant and Stunning. Soon after finishing their breakfast the 2 girls entered the game room or so it was called it basically consisted of checkers, chess and cards as Kimberly and Lauren were playing cards and having casual convocation getting to know each other since they were sharing the same room the topic of why they were there was soon brought up which made both Girls entire body’s go ice cold and paralysed with fear.

Kimberly first spoke breaking the silence but not really knowing how to start “Well I’m here because I suffer with Episodes or Hallucinations as they are most commonly known.” Kimberly explained to Lauren watching the girls eye’s have a river of sympathy and somewhat understanding, when Kimberly finally got around to the second reason she was locked up and treated like a disease she became very very hesitant and scared of what the girl in front of her may think. “I’m also here because.. em..Because…. Because I’m apparently sick up here for liking girls” Kimberly finally got the right words out motioning her fingers to tap her head.“Ahh I see well there’s nothing wrong about that Kim don’t you worry I’m here because I had a break down and people think I’m off ma rock for suffering with Social anxiety when it’s not even my fault you see a few years back I lost my brother due to him being taken for a top secret experiment inspired by the 1940’s sleep experiment only it went horribly wrong and my brother and several others faced a sickening death.” Lauren explained raising her voice with tears forming in her eyes, Kimberly felt really bad for Lauren because she couldn’t really do much but explain to her that everything is going to be okay and that’s exactly what she did Kimberly the petite teen wrapped her arms around Lauren’s slim frame embracing her into a hug and whispering in a gentle and sweet like honey tone “everything is going to be alright, I’m here sweetie, everything is going to be okay you are safe with me there’s nothing to worry about.” Lauren felt safe in the girls arms, like nothing could harm her and she was on top of the world soon after Kimberly was loosening her embrace around Lauren when Lauren hugged tighter causing Kimberly to do the same for a few moments.

Both girls never wanted it to end but knew it had to especially Kimberly who refused to get another shocking treatment for being “mentally Sick for liking girls” soon after the comfort Kimberly showered Lauren with all patients were sent of to their room for medication time.

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english-ext-2 · 6 years

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Viva Voce (NEW)

Please note exact requirements will vary across schools, and all analysis here is based on the sample assessment/support material from the NESA website

The Viva Voce is the first formal assessment task, worth 30% of your internal mark. It’s the only assessment carried over from the old course, so some of the information here is recycled from my original post.

The Viva is a 15-20 minute panel interview where you present your Major Work to your teachers and respond to their questions. It’s basically “selling” your MW and its concept: “hey, look at how great my idea is! This is the form it’ll take, here’s the research I’ve done so far, and this is how I intend to carry it out.” You will also need to submit your Major Work Journal for review.

According to the sample assessment material on the NESA website, the presentation could include the following:

A thorough explanation of the purpose, audience, context and form of your Major Work

Acknowledgement of the sources you have used in developing the proposal and inquiry question

An outline of your plan to complete the Major Work project including a timeline

References to your journal to assist in explaining choices made and research completed.

Before I unpack the above, I want to briefly address concept. You obviously need to explain to the panel what your MW is about, but concept also underpins your understanding of purpose, audience, context and form. I have other detailed posts on developing a concept, but for our purposes here I just wanted to highlight concept as key to how you explain everything else required of you in the Viva.

Explanation of purpose, audience, context and form (+ concept) of your MW

While it’s important to explain each of these individually, it’s just as (if not more) important to link them together.

Purpose: Basically what you’ve set out to do with your MW. At this stage, it should not be something bland like “I aim to entertain my audience” or “I want to make people think”. Literally anybody could say that about their major. What is it that you want your MW to do specifically? What is the “conceptual purpose” of your MW, if you will. You might like to start out brainstorming a list of verbs, or thinking about the messages/themes you want to explore in your major.

Audience: Who is your Major Work intended for? Which group of people will respond to your major in the way you want them to? Again, broad answers along the lines of “the general public”, “high school students”, or “young people” won’t cut it. You need to delve a little deeper. Running with the last two examples, it’d be more “high school students who are highly active on social media” or “young people frustrated with their experience of the political system”. Specificity! It’s your friend.

Context: To quote the NESA glossary, context is “the range of personal, social, historical, cultural and workplace conditions in which a text is responded to and composed.” Replace “text” with “major work”, focus on “composed”, and you’ve got the gist. You need to be aware of your context (how your MW links to Advanced and Extension, for example) AND situate your MW in its context, e.g. a critical response on female journalists in WWII would require some knowledge of wartime reporting, government propaganda, censorship, attitudes towards women in journalism, etc.

Form: Most obviously, what is your form? And why have you chosen it? I’m not sure as to how detailed an answer teachers expect from the second question, but you should have some idea beyond “I like it.” This is where tying form to the other elements becomes important. What makes your form the most appropriate for your concept, purpose, and audience?

Putting it all together

Running through every permutation of purpose, audience, context and form would take far too long, so I’m going to limit this section to the relationships I personally find to be the most important. Please note that I’ve chosen to pair the elements for simplicity’s sake, but they all feed back into and overlap with one another.

Form and audience

Let’s say your major is a short story. Your intended audience would obviously not be film critics or even people who enjoy watching films. In other words, your intended audience should be directly related to your chosen form.

But there should also be a consideration of how your concept factors in: for example, why did you choose poetry to explore environmental activism on climate change? It could be because poetry is a strongly emotive form, and climate change is an issue that rouses great passion in your intended audience of green activists seeking new, culturally relevant ways to express their concerns around the consequences of failure to act on this issue.

(Btw there’s no shame in saying that you chose a form because it means a great deal to you personally! Familiarity with and fondness for a particular form is a perfectly legit reason to choose it. Just that it can’t be the only reason.)

(I pulled that poetry/climate change example from thin air, but turns out it’s a real thing.)

Audience and purpose

Your understanding of one is shaped by the other, the why of your MW informing the who and vice versa. Just as you wouldn’t buy someone a gift you know they’ll absolutely hate, you wouldn’t create a MW for an audience unlikely to appreciate it.

Say your major aims to deconstruct the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope in science fiction film and encourage change in the way women are represented in this genre. Film critics and/or cultural studies academics might be interested, but they’re not in the best position to push for change. A better fit would be, say, directors and producers working in the sci-fi genre who are interested in subversive or transformative gender narratives.

Form obviously plays a part here too, since you may have decided a podcast is the best way to reach your affluent and online audience.

Form and purpose

Why is your form best suited to doing the thing you want your MW to do? Or to quote from the NESA description of the Major Work: “The form of the Major Work must be chosen deliberately to contribute to the authenticity, originality and overall conceptual purpose of the work.”

To go with my sci-fi example from above, deconstructions of popular tropes are very well-suited to critical responses (and academic audiences). But as I noted, the purpose of encouraging change in the film industry demands a more visible platform that you’d get with a podcast. If, however, you were more interested in deconstruction-through-satire, a short story or short film would be the better choice.

Acknowledgement of the sources you have used in developing the proposal and inquiry question

It should be self-evident, but bears spelling out in full: cite specific sources. “I read an interesting article online” isn’t as strong as “I read an Atlantic article about how teenagers use Instagram to debate the news, which informed my thinking about the ability of social media to polarise, and the evolution of news consumption among young people.” Let the extent of your independent investigation shine! Show off the knowledge you’ve accumulated! Own your research, basically. (Also ironic in that you’re acknowledging other people’s work, but you get what I mean.)

It wouldn’t hurt to link those specific sources to your proposal and inquiry question. I don’t know how thoroughly you’ll be expected to explain those links, but something like the following would be a decent example: “This Atlantic article helped to narrow the scope of my inquiry question about the impact of social media on news-gathering behaviour to young people, instead of everyone.” The key thing is to at least mention various sources and show the teachers you’ve actually been doing relevant research.

Action plan outline, including timeline

Hint: structure your plan in relation to the composition process. Obviously, the particulars are going to be specific to your major. But be realistic in your planning. Try to strike a balance between micromanagement and no time management at all: while you don’t strictly need to break the entire EE2 course up into minuscule steps like “week two: write the opening scene”, it’s also not helpful to say you’ll tackle the entire investigating stage in January. To reiterate: the points under each stage of the composition process provide a good guide for your action plan.

Be aware of your own and others’ limits too! If you know you’re a serial procrastinator, can you really crank out a first draft in three weeks? Will you be able to secure feedback from your learning community in the week before an assessment block? You also need to account for any other Major Works you’ve got and remember the workload from your other subjects. How will you fit EE2 around them? There’s nothing wrong in keeping your timeline tight, a kind of platonic ideal to which you aspire, but it shouldn’t be so unrealistic as to be impossible.

I say it in my guide to the composition process, but remember that your action plan will likely change throughout the year. Life happens! Something might happen in your personal life; you could come down with the flu; maybe a friend is late in getting their feedback to you, and you find yourself falling behind schedule. It’s not the end of the world. You can adjust your action plan as you go - working around obstacles is part and parcel of EE2.

References to your journal to assist in explaining choices made and research completed

You should be able to point to specific entries in your journal to explain why you made a decision, which is a good time to remind you to keep your journal up to date!! Back-filling entries is a pain but also procedurally unsound, since you can’t return to your state of mind and exact train of thought when you made a decision.

Preparing for the Viva

You’ll be given the questions 15 minutes beforehand, but that doesn’t mean you can’t prepare. Make sure you are familiar with and prepared to discuss your major’s concept, form, purpose, audience and context (particularly links to Advanced and Extension coursework).

If you’re still in doubt, the old English Extension 2 Support Document includes a handy list of starting questions, a sample of which I’ve copied below:

Concept

What concept have you developed for your Major Work? Describe it.

Why are you interested in this concept?

What are your sources of inspiration?

How is your concept an extension of the knowledge, understanding and skills developed in English (Advanced) and (Extension) courses?

Purpose

What are you aiming to achieve during the Extension 2 course?

How are you planning to achieve this purpose?

Form

Have you decided on the form in which you would like to compose?

Why have you chosen this particular form?

Intended Audience

Who is the target audience of your work and why?

The questions you answer in the Viva will be different and/or tailored to your MW specifically, but the list above broadly covers the things you’ll be asked. You don’t need to write an entire essay in response to each question; dot points are fine. The Viva is not a speech, so your language doesn’t need to be as formal.

Practice, practice, practice

If you’re worried or anxious about fronting up before a panel, I recommend doing a practice run with a close friend. Grab your notes, MW journal, a stopwatch, and someone you trust, then get them to pitch you the list of questions you’ve prepared for. Use the stopwatch to keep yourself within 15-20 minutes. Practicing will build your confidence and familiarity with your notes, as well as help you cut down on any waffle you might be inclined to.

During the Viva

The preparation is one thing, communicating what you’ve prepared to the panel is another. Of course, a lot depends on who the teachers are, how comfortable you are with them, your own confidence levels, etc. I can’t really help you there. All I can suggest is that you try to convey your interest and enthusiasm to the panel. It’s your project, and you want it to succeed. Channel some of that passion into the way you present your MW. You’re pretty much stopping short of grabbing each teacher by their lapels and yelling LOOK AT THIS FANTASTIC IDEA I HAVE.

The teachers will ask you questions related specifically to your MW, ones which are spontaneous and based on their understanding of your MW as you’ve presented it to them in the Viva. Again, try not to stress. The teachers are not looking for ways to trip you up, they’re helping you to think about the direction your MW could take. One of the most important things you’ll learn from the EE2 course that isn’t mentioned in the learning outcomes is taking criticism. It’s about being able to accept (reasonable) critique of your work and striving to improve those areas, as well as exercising control over your creative process, i.e. not taking absolutely every single suggestion put forward unless you truly believe they’ll all benefit you.

Post-Viva

When you get your marks back there should be comments as well, like suggestions on what you could be reading, or questions that might help you orientate the direction of your MW. Take these on board, and discuss them with your English teacher(s) as soon as possible. The assessment tasks are certainly there to assess you, but they’re also ways to keep you on track and help you to make your MW better. (Keep in mind what I mentioned above about taking criticism/feedback.)

#viva voce #assessments #my posts #hsc #english extension 2 #this got very long #im sorry for everyone on mobile

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thisnerdsadventures · 3 years

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a summer to remember

hello friends, i definitely just abandoned this whole blog, now didn't i

well i am happy to report that i am still alive, and am thriving!

Here's a rundown of everything that has been going on:

[inserting a readmore because this is long af]

May

So in May, I was definitely just all over the place because I was 1) trying to finish a paper published in a conference!! it literally drove me insane. anyways, then i had to go and finish a 78 page thesis, which involved a really convoluted timeline because i had to finish it ~ a week before the actual deadline so my PI could read it over, but then i had to finish it a few days before THAT so my PhD supervisors could read it over, which meant that i had like one (1) week to write like. all of it.

Luckily I had most of the first half already written, during whatever shitshow April was (April was a lot of coding for the paper, and then not having time to write my thesis). But THEN i had to organize all the data from my own personal experiments, make figures, and draft the entire results section. AND i had like two final reports to do for my class, so my last weeks of academia looked like....

Of course, the day before my thesis was due, I pulled an all nighter, because, of course. What other way would I ever end my academic career. Submitted it though, and I graduated! [LINK TO MY THESIS]

Also! I got vaccinated and felt like death for a whole day, but then my friend came over and we ate fried chicken and watched this show called Miraculous, which is a kids show from France, but for some reason is actually hilarious and really entertaining. Then I felt better, so I proceeded to work on my thesis.

Also, I guess I should talk a little bit about the class I took this semester, which was an industrial organization economics class. We looked at things like how different markets are organized, why they are that way, what market concentration means, how mergers affect competition, and what kind of effect that may impose on consumers. For the final case study (which, I will say, I wrote like 2000 words in a single day, so . applause for me), I looked at the Nvidia-ARM merger and how that may or may not affect competition in the GPU market, the CPU market, and the mobile chip market. I think my analysis was a little bit more surface level, which was fine for me, since I'm by no means an economics expert or even remotely should have any expectations at all, but I read a lot and learned a lot and that's the goal!

So yes, my brief excursion into the field of economics was overall positive, I feel like I learned a lot and now I can read financial articles about the tech industry and not be completely lost, which, again, was the goal.

But yes, May was a lot of work, and once it wrapped up, I got to spend a lot of time with friends post-vaccination! After the 1 or 2 week mark after my second dose, I started going back to the gym, especially to play basketball with folks, which I had missed a lot. I spent a lot of time at my old dorm just hanging out, and got to have a cute salmon dinner over at my other friend's place. And we made cheesecake too.

June (MA->NY->MA->CA)

I finally went to visit my best friend in New York. I hadn't seen her in > 400 days, so it was really a very anticipated event, except we saw each other across the crosswalk, but then the light took like five minutes to turn green, so it was really anticlimactic. Anyways, we ended up bumming around New York and Long Island for a week, and it was nice to spend some time with her after such a long gap.

We spent a day at a vineyard and I fell asleep so

After getting back to Boston, my mom came back from Taiwan to help me move out of my apartment. It was a lot of finding people to sell things to, sweating because it was very hot that week, and praying everything would work out (it did). I also got to have a few final meals with various friends and my mom and I got to take one last lark down the Infinite, which I was really grateful for because it was the first time visitors got to go inside campus in over a year.

Also got into my school's MBA program! Yes i applied to a deferred program (which is like you get into a program, but you don't have to go for 2-5 years, as a way of getting in right after undergrad/grad school, but then accumulating some work experience first). It was hilarious, I was literally shopping in my campus store for a new sweatshirt and I got a phone call from the admissions office saying I got in. My mom had been pushing me to apply to grad programs, and I didn't tell her about it because I didn't know if I would actually follow through. But I got to surprise her with the news, and she was so happy she did the whole "calling all the relatives" thing again.

After flying home, I told myself I'd read more and exercise more, which I have been doing. I got a membership at Planet Fitness, which has been really good for me (going 3x a week), and I've made my way through at least 5 books this summer so far. My holds list at my local library is literally insane. (For recs, I recently read Normal People, which I absolutely devoured, and In the Dream House, which hit really hard for me.)

This summer was also really about reconnecting with high school friends. All three of us were unemployed, with plans to come in the fall, so we were all free to hang out all the time. We started out at the local library planning out a road trip, and we worked out a few times together, and a few coffee dates too. We took a fun day trip down to LA one day, and we visited Malibu, went to the Getty, hit up some local food places in the city. Driving down the PCH with Taylor Swift blaring and the windows down on a hot June day, just hits so different. There is nothing like it.

My friend's birthday was in June, so we put together a little video for her and bought some jewelry, and had a Zoom call to celebrate. Then I got BBQ with some friends and sat in the parking lot eating ice cream until 11 at night just trading stories from our pasts. It felt like the perfect summer life, just staying out until whenever, grabbing food wherever we wanted, with friends I had had for literally a whole decade.

It was already a really good summer, but then July. July was crazy.

July (CA -> MI -> CA -> NV -> CA -> WA -> OR -> CA)

So one Sunday morning, I woke up to a text

Actually, I'm going to do a separate post on the whole Michigan trip because that sh** was on another level of spontaneous, impulsive, crazy life stuff. But anyways, so July started off with a trip to Michigan to visit my friends, and then I came back for the 4th, had 36 hours of rest before my high school friends and I went on a road trip.

This road trip was a little ambitious. We hit spots all up California, from hiking in Sequoia Nat'l Park to Kings Canyon, driving up to Sacramento and visiting art museums, and then going up to Tahoe but staying in Nevada, going kayaking and hiking and sitting on the beach for hours. It was reallllllly hot, but luckily I don't think it ever broke 90 degrees. The views were beautiful, especially at Kings Canyon. The drive in, you're surrounded by huge rock walls, with a thin river rushing by next to you. The hike itself literally feels like you're in nature, like the trail is somewhat defined but not paved, there are no sounds of traffic, the path isn't heavily trafficked so we were the only ones there for the most part. We even saw a deer and washed our faces in the river. Throughout the whole thing, we climbed into so many waterfalls, trying not to slip on rocks.

I hadn't been to Sacramento in over a decade, but it was a cute day trip. There isn't a ton to do there, but it was a nice reprieve from the constant driving and nature. We visited the Leland Stanford Mansion, the Crocker Art Museum, and Old Town Sacramento. A good chance to get a nice coffee, a sit-down meal, and some air conditioning. At Tahoe, we went kayaking on Pope Beach, with the clearest water I have ever seen, followed up by a hike up to a beautiful view of the Lake.

On our way back, we stopped at a lot of interesting places, like small towns like Lee Vining, where we found an Upside Down House; Manzanar, the site of an old Japanese internment camp during the WWII era (which also hit hard); and Randsburg, a literal living ghost town. Overall, getting to travel with my friends finally was so fun, they were so much fun to be around for five days, and getting to explore so much of California was so fun - even though I'd been here for so long, I never knew these places existed.

So I came back and had around 48 hours to recover before my mom and I took a trip up to the Pacific Northwest!

I've always wanted to visit Seattle, and figured I'd hit Portland on the way too. We originally wanted to go to Hawaii but it got so expensive by the middle of the summer, so we decided to stay a little closer to home (probs the better decision bc I was already so tired by this point).

Seattle! Got to visit Pike Place Market many times, grab some coffee at the original Starbucks, see Mt. Rainier, and grab food with three friends! Also went to Bainbridge Island for a day which was SO cute - got to do an olive oil/balsamic vinegar tasting, which sounds so extra, but is actually really unexpectedly fun. At Starbs, I did a cold brew flight, which resulted in a rough night of tossing and turning for me, but I think it was worth it. Other things included the Pinball Museum, Space Needle, and Chihuly Glass Museum!

So I lowkey really wanted to visit Portland because I wanted to achieve a long-lasting dream of seeing an NWSL game in person. So I went to the Thorns Pride game!!

The Thorns fanbase is actually insane, I cannot express to you, like there's this whole fan section that actually did synchronized cheers and routines and was actually ROARING when they scored the entire game. I swear the audience was actually watching them at points instead of the match. Overall, the stadium was going crazy, like I thought I was at a tied Celtics-Bucks game with how loud it was in there. Also I swear, Ali Krieger made eye contact with me and waved.

In addition to that, Portland also has a huge rose garden, a nice Japanese tea garden, a lot of good donut stores and a huge bookstore, so all very up my alley. We also took a day trip to see Mt. Hood and more waterfalls!!

That's a summary of the SEA - PDX trip. Once I got home, my high school friends and I did not waste any time on reuniting to hang out - we went and played ball, grabbed lunch, and then coffee, and then did the same exact thing like two days later and watched a bunch of TikToks, and then spent a whole day at the beach to send my good friend off to medical school in Arizona. They somehow convinced me to go in the water and I got body checked by a wave.

Saw this sculpture on the beach and teared up a little

So proud of my friends for making it to med school, I am so excited to see them at their white coat ceremonies and beyond, I swear I will cry at every step of the way I'm so happy for them. Now that July is pretty much over, most of my fun summer plans are too, and I finally get a chance to catch my breath from that busy busy month. Spending a lot of time watching the Olympics and trying to muster up the motivation to start a fulltime job in < 1 month!!

Overall, I feel like I've been having a really solid summer given the year that was the covid year. I had a Lot of fun, literally probably two summers worth of fun consolidated into one. I think in the beginning of the year, I really wanted this summer to be good, and I didn't have a lot of set plans for the summer, even by the end of May. But somehow, things came together, like Really together, and I had the best summer of my life in this summer 2021. On top of that, I'm reading more than I have since probably middle school, I feel the most in shape that I ever have, I can DRIVE NOW. Only thing that would've made it better was if I got to go back to Taiwan to visit the fam, but unfortunately I can't go back because of strict travel restrictions there and they had a COVID outbreak too :/ I still got around 3.5 weeks of summer to go, so we'll see how the rest goes :)

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rantingfangirl · 7 years

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Cross Life Chapter Eleven: Line Walking

Summary: Moving across the pond was supposed to signify new beginnings for the Kirkland family. Arthur’s parents seemed to take that a bit too literally for his liking.

Chapter Index

Read it on FF.Net Read it on AO3

“I’ll see y’all on Friday. Now get out of my classroom.”

Arthur grumbled as Mr. Vargas haphazardly tossed his binder full of sheet music onto his desk, sending papers and pencils to the sides and down to the floor. The latter stretched his arms out, his white dress shirt tightening around his biceps, his shoulders scrunched up.

The choir room broke out into a fit of noise, some individual voices louder than others. Most talked about what they had gone over during practice, what pieces they were worried about and how they went flat on that one high note. Others simply talked about their plans for the weekend, or the amount of homework they had that evening.

Grabbing his backpack, Arthur slung it over his shoulder, pressing his hand against his back and stretching. The backpack weighed down on his shoulders, and he got the strange feeling that it was unzipped, its contents open for everyone to see, even though he knew that wasn’t the case. As the year has gone on, it’s gotten heavier and heavier, though the crime could be mainly blamed on the three thick hardbacks he alternated between during the rare free moments he had. Each time he finished one, it was replaced with another the next day, just as heavy but just as addicting as the last.

Without saying goodbye to those in his section- he still had never bothered to learn their names, and when he was told, he immediately forgot, Arthur stalked out of the choir room, deflating as soon as he stepped into the silent hallway. He was the first one out the door.

Normally, he wouldn’t be able to wait to start his walk home, to begin those fifteen minutes where he was by himself and free, but today, he was doing something.

Something important.

Arthur slid his arm into the free strap of his backpack, the weight becoming more balanced as he turned right into another corridor. On the other side of the hallway, coming from the opposite direction, was Kiku. Arthur gave him a sarcastic sneer, a common greeting in their relationship, fully expecting one in return. What he got, however, could only be at best called a timid wince.

It was hard to believe that Kiku Honda, the one who had been a tiny needle stuck in his ass since the beginning of August, was actually cowering from him. Cowering, as if Arthur were some monster that had been waiting under his bed for months, waiting until he could see a soft white sock poke out onto the floor to grab and pull under. It was funny, really, considering the circumstances of their first meeting, how confident he was then compared to now.

And if Arthur was being serious, if he was really being serious to himself, he was curious. Of why this sudden change had happened. Not because he actually cared for Kiku- god no, he could never give a damn about such a slithery, slimy snake, but it made him wonder.

Though it was far-fetched, perhaps Alfred and Kiku were going through a patch of rocky terrain in their relationship. He remembered the way the latter shied from the former’s hand back in the library, the movement being far too snappy and harsh to be a fear of touch or anything of the like. Besides, he had seen them hold hands before, like when Arthur tracked Alfred down to declare his apology- and what a disaster that had been- so a phobia was out of the question.

Of course, Arthur could be overlooking it, be digging too deep into what could be something as simple as Kiku having a bad day, but he sincerely hoped it wasn’t. If they were fighting, if their string was growing taunt, then it would certainly make his plan go down much easier.

Arthur didn’t bother to say anything as he walked past Kiku, the latter’s pace quickening to a speed walk, not so much as sparing a single glance after his sneer. Soon, he was alone once more, the sound of his footsteps bouncing off the hallway as he strolled.

This afternoon was a gamble, as yesterday and the day before that had been. He was already gone by the time Arthur got out of Madrigal practice on Monday, and wasn’t in the library yesterday after his tutoring session with Alfred. Arthur supposed he had already left, and cursed Alfred for insisting on sitting outside in the courtyard. The latter had claimed, in his very own words, “it’s gonna be nice n’ cool outside, and I don’t wanna get stuck in a stuffy, dark library,” though Arthur was sure he just wanted to sabotage him.

However frustrating, Arthur figured he couldn’t enforce his hidden agenda on Alfred, no matter how much he wanted to, without risking it all. Besides, he wasn’t necessarily against sitting outside- so long as it wasn’t raining, he would hate for his books to be damaged- and hadn’t opposed, shocking himself and most likely Alfred as well. If the way his eyes widened after Arthur nodded was any indication.

He stopped before the library doors, taking a breath. It had not changed since the last time he was here, and he knew that inside, it would be the same as it always was. Books lined in faux wood shelves, the surfaces of the later made to look like anything but particle board. The dark carpet in desperate need of a vacuum, saturated with spilled Gatorade, soft drinks, and coffee, and even if it were to be thoroughly cleaned, it would never be the same as the first day it was nailed in and stepped on. Tables with declarations of love and phone numbers scrawled and etched into it, complete with matching chairs on their last leg, only a few years from toppling under someone.

And it was the same everywhere he went. No matter how many times his mum picked up his family and moved them, no matter how many times he went from one town to another, they all stayed the same. Different layouts, different buildings, different material, sure, but they were stable. Solid.

Unlike his family, with his brothers constantly moving in and out of the house, sometimes with an irritatingly shallow girlfriend clinging to their arms, their thin fingers twirling their thick and glossy hair, mouths spouting anything to please. With his mother lacing false promises and lies around her as if they were fine jewelry and silky lace, picking one off and throwing it at him when she needed to. With his father going through different versions of himself as a doctor would with bandages, ripping one off and tossing it away, only to replace it with another one he liked better.

Libraries were safe, calm, secure, and Arthur almost hesitated as he reached for the metal handle. He would be bringing his chaos inside, dragging it in with him and pushing all those peaceful years out, and everyone would let him do it without so much of a fight, without so much of a single thought of the consequences.

Arthur thought of leaving, just dropping it until another day when he saw him in the hallway or the courtyard. So he wouldn’t bring his plan and all that came with it into such a sacred place. But the damage had been done already, he supposed, and had been since the first tutoring session with Alfred.

And besides, he told himself, it was a necessary sacrifice to make.

He pulled the handle, shivering at the wave of chilly air that burst out. Another thing that had stayed consistent. Arthur wasn’t sure if the librarian would suddenly decided that a heater would be necessary soon, as in a couple weeks from now at the very maximum, or in the dead of winter. If the latter, then perhaps it would be warmer outside than in the library.

Balancing his weight to quiet his footsteps, Arthur beelined for the side of the library, windows between each bookshelf displaying slivers of the empty courtyard. Clusters of four tables were surrounded by a guard of shelves, and Arthur swiftly ducked his head to the side, checking to see if anyone was there. When he found it empty, he moved on to the next, making sure to go slow and quiet.

Row by row passed, textbooks, biographies, magazines, and casual picture books behind lined behind him. Each time he came across a group of tables, he pressed himself to the side of a bookshelf, slightly leaning over to get a good look before moving on.

He got closer and closer tot he back wall, the painted concrete covered in signs with inspirational quotes that Arthur doubted anyone relevant every said. As he reached the last group of tables, prepared for failure and being forced to try it again tomorrow, Arthur saw him.

Heracles sat in the corner, a stack mixed with hardbacks, paperbacks, and magazines piling high, almost as tall as he was sitting. Arthur froze, watching as he scanned down one page, stopping to scribble a quick note down in the lined notebook next to him, before flipping to the next. A speed reader, then. How wasteful, skimming over paragraphs, when the author spent hours hunched over each one, barely taking note of what the sentences contained. Whereas Arthur took his sweet time, reading each word and processing it with care, rereading pieces of dialogue to see what he could add to his analysis of each and every character. It made him think, made him wonder what type of reader he-

Arthur shook his head, forcing the thought away. It was unnecessary, he didn’t need that type of information nor would he ever. He rolled his shoulders back, the weight of his backpack making it more shallow than he would’ve preferred. He hadn’t been noticed yet, and if he kept quiet, probably wouldn’t be, which game him a decent amount of time to prepare.

Arthur thought of what he was going to say, or at the very least how he was going to begin the lengthy conversation they were going to have, and how he was going to deliver it in such a way that didn’t make him seem or look desperate.

Pushing some wisps of hair out of his face and taking in and letting out a deep breath, Arthur strolled to the table, his stride long but casual. He slid into the closet chair, dropping his backpack haphazardly into the one next to it. Arthur’s books knocked against the wood of the table, which he would normally wince at and immediately move to check their health, but he ignored it- not without a fair share of pain, however- in favor of focusing on Heracles.

The latter snapped his head up in surprise, his fingers tightening around the edges of his current book. From the confusion on his face, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, and mouth just a little bit gaped, Arthur could tell that he had no idea who he was. Good. Very good.

Arthur smirked, propping his cheek on the palm of his hand. “Heracles Karpusi?” The mentioned nodded, slowly closing his book shut, not before shoving an colored and scribbled on index card in the middle, setting it on the very top of the stack.

Heracles pursed his lips into a fine line, shaking his messy hair out of his face. He rolled his shoulders back, taking in a deep breath, letting it out through his mouth. “Yes, and who’re you?”

Arthur scoffed, shaking his head and waving his hand in dismissal. In this situation, it wasn’t necessary to know, and if Kiku had mentioned him before, then it could put everything at jeopardy. So, at the moment, “That’s not important.”

Heracles deadpanned, though Arthur could see his eye lightly twitch in annoyance, just barely noticeable. The latter’s smirk, which had appeared around the time he had taken the opportunity to seat himself, grew lazy and half-assed.

Making a show of himself, Arthur perked up in his chair, looking around for anyone that could be eavesdropping or just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Of course, he knew that the library was empty, had practically taken a tour of it, except for the two of them, and had made sure of it, but it was always nice to double check. If any of their conversation were to get out, even just a little snippet of the more important words, then it would be a major pain in the ass for the both of them. Especially for Arthur.

Especially for Arthur.

Smacking his hand against his back pocket, just to make sure it was there, Arthur pulled out a pack of gum, offering a stick to Heracles. It was the product of a late night stop at the gas station earlier this week, his father needing to fill up his tank and Arthur wanting to get out of the house for at least five minutes. He had been chewing it sparingly, having only about a stick a day, but he had made the mistake of letting Vlad get an eyeful during one lunch period. Now, the contents had quickly diminished, and Arthur only had about a row and a half left.

Heracles shook his head, raising his hand as Arthur tried to hand it to him. The latter shrugged, unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth. It crackled and snapped in his mouth, the minty taste almost making him wince.

“So, Heracles.” He chewed out a tough spot in the gum, running his tongue over the top row of his teeth.

Heracles raised an eyebrow, still looking as if a million piece puzzle had just been set in front of him, no paper with any directions in sight. He opened his mouth to speak, only for Arthur to quickly cut him off.

“How much do you love him?” Quick and blunt, he decided not to mention the word “crush” to him, lest he get angry, denying their relationship to be such a short, trivial thing, and walk away.

Heracles paled, or as much as his olive skin would allow, his shoulders tensing up and his jaw clenching. As he spoke, he stuttered, his normally lethargic demeanor turned into something rushed. Panicked. “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

Arthur’s smirk turned smug, and he leaned closer, his stomach pressing up against the table. “Now, that little reaction of yours tells me that yes, you do know what I’m talking about. You know exactly who I’m talking about.” Arthur lifted his head, studying his fingernails for dirt and places to file down. “How long?”

Heracles shook his head, pushing his chair back. This time, he had his backpack with him, a black cargo pack with two large pockets buttoned closed on the front, and slung it over his shoulder. Arthur noticed with not a lack of mirth that there were multiple cat charms chained to it. How cute.

Fully expecting this kind of reaction from him, Arthur sat there, watching as he picked up the entire stack of books with ease, along with his still-open notebook, balancing it on one arm. Not even a single one wiggled.

As he began to walk away, his pace slow as to not harm the stack, Arthur studied the lines and grooves of the table, not even sparing him a glance as he spoke. “Do you know how easy it would be for your little secret to get out?” From the corner of his eye, he saw Heracles freeze, and knew then that he had won. “You aren’t exactly subtle, to be quite honest. Someone would just have to point it out, give Alfred and his little band a small push, and then everyone would know about it.”

Heracles stepped up to the table, his hips pressing against the edge. He was tall, much taller than Arthur, and considering the way he was carrying those books as if they were rag dolls, much stronger than him as well.

Then again, he didn’t look angry per sé, but someone had once thrown a swing at Arthur while smiling without a care in the world, so he wasn’t taking any chances. Just in case, Arthur situated his arm a bit closer to the other and leaned away from him. At least that would give him a little bit of time to block.

Instead of going in for the punch, like Arthur anticipated- and he would’ve punched back, too, considering how long it had been since he had last gotten into a fight- Heracles raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. Waiting.

Arthur motioned his hand to the other side of the table, specifically the chair that Heracles had been sitting in before. The latter glanced at it, before returning his attention to Arthur. Taking in a sharp breath, he motioned again for him to sit in the chair, giving him a smile filled with sarcasm when the fool actually did.

When Heracles spoke, his voice had returned to its default quietness and slow pace, though Arthur could hear it shake. Out of fear, wary, or a bit of both, he couldn’t tell, and if he were to be honest, he didn’t really care. “What do ya want.”

Arthur propped his feet up on the chair next to him, his right foot resting against his backpack, and he hoped he wouldn’t fall. Cool and nonchalant, that was his act for the afternoon, and if he were to mess that up, it would be… embarrassing, to say the very least.

He shrugged, smiling as if he were in a daze, throwing his hands up in the air. “I just want to help you.”

Heracles deadpanned, slowly blinking. He crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair as much as his backpack- which he had not yet taken off, even while sitting in a chair, a petpeeve of Arthur’s that made his eye twitch- would allow him. “You were the one who just said that you were willin’ to out me to Alfred.” He said his name with a sneer, several teeth showing. Arthur noticed that there was a small gap between his canine and incisor. Adorable.

Arthur made himself look offended, breaking years of habit to raise his chest and shoulders as he breathed, putting his hand to his collar bone, his index finger pressing into his neck. He furrowed his brow, slowly shaking his head, his mouth gaping.

Heracles didn’t seem impressed with his performance, his jaw tense, and he looked displeased when Arthur spoke, the latter’s voice breathy and his words slow. His reaction to it was unfortunate, really, considering that he had picked this straight out of his mother’s catalog of acts. “I didn’t say that I was going to out you, I simply said that I would nudge them in the direction. I’m sure they’re smart enough to figure it out themselves.”

Even with as dramatic as he was being, and how much he was currently reminding himself of his mother, Arthur couldn’t deny the fact that he was having fun with this. Pure, unbridled fun. Even when he knew that Heracles was feeling the exact opposite. Especially because of that.

Heracles huffed, slumping in his chair. “That’s the exact same thing.”

“No, they’re very much different.”

A frown. “I doubt that.”

Arthur shrugged, dropping his act, pursing his lips into a fine line. “If that’s what you want to think.”

The two fell silent for a while, Arthur’s more intentional than the other’s. He tapped his fingers against the table, nodding his head slowly. Occasionally, he sent a glance towards Heracles’ direction, making sure it was noticed, measuring if and when he was about to crack. Eventually, after about a couple minutes, Arthur got what he wanted.

Heracles threw his hands up, muttering something under his breath. It was too quick for Arthur to hear even a single word, but he was sure that it was nothing that he particularly wanted to hear. Either that, or an exclamation of impatience, which he sincerely doubted. “Fine. How are you gonna help me?”

Arthur smirked, picking at the skin surrounding one of his fingernails. This was the moment of truth. When everything that Arthur had been working for these past two months would come to fruit. And he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Despite the significant importance of this, of this very sentence he was about to say, Arthur said it as if it were nothing, simply a statement of the weather that morning or what they had for lunch at school. He didn’t even glance at Heracles as he spoke. “What if I were to tell you that there is a great possibility that Kiku could love you back?”

The atmosphere surrounding the table tensed, a great secret finally revealed to the light of the world. Heracles stared at Arthur, his eyes as wide as saucers, the color leeching from his cheeks. He opened his mouth to speak, but then clamped it shut, pursing it into a fine line. His face blanked, and at the moment, Arthur’s confidence in the success of the afternoon faltered the tiniest bit.

Heracles stood, gently setting the stack of books on the table, and pushing his chair in. He rolled his shoulders back, along with his neck, and walked away, grabbing his notebook before hand.

Arthur’s smirk fell, turning into more of a half-assed sneer, and he signed, deflating. That certainly went the way he was expecting it to go.

Heracles left his stack of books, most likely figuring that a librarian would pick them up the next day. How rude of him, to put that much more work on them when they already had such stressful and taxing jobs.

Arthur had to admit, however, that he was curious, and reached for the first book on the very top, the one he had been reading when Arthur had first initiated their conversation. He pulled it over to him, scanning the cover. If only because he was curious of what such a disrespectful brat could possibly be reading.

And at the very top, above a picture of a sculpted bust that had certainly seen better days, in platinum colored letters over a soft blue, read, “Greek Mythology: Battles of Will, Jealously, and Punishment”. Arthur couldn’t help but snort at that, dropping it haphazardly onto the table.

What a damn coincidence.

Vlad shivered as they stepped out into the courtyard, running his hands up and down his arms. October was in full fling, summer having been long ushered out by fall. Dead leaves crunched under their feet, covering the concrete ground and empty tables.

Arthur eyed their usual table, which sat against one of the concrete walls of the pit in all its worn and black beauty. It sat under a tree, one that had already lost most of its foliage, only bits of its magnificent metal top visible. Vlad noticed him staring, and gave him a sympathetic look, seeming equally miserable, even though their torture had yet to even begin.

No matter how much he wanted to, how much he yearned to, they would not be sitting at their table today. No, for they were being forced to sit with Mathias and all of his friends.

They had told Lukas that he could go by himself, that he didn’t have to have him and Vlad intruding and ruining their fun, only for Lukas to deny it. Arthur brought it up again, perhaps for the fifth time, only for Lukas to shake his head.

“I don’t wanna leave y’all alone.”

Arthur tsked. “But we’ll be interrupting-”

“Not at all, Mathias said that I could bring you two if I wanted. And I want to.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Vlad deflate, though Lukas didn’t seem to notice. Normally, Arthur would be supportive of this type of thing, and would go in without a complaint but with watchful eyes and a prepared defense, but this was different. Very different.

The table was a hostile zone, the Montagues to their Capulets, with his dear friend unknowingly caught in the middle of it. It was a silent battle, his side the only ones in the dark. And they would be right in the thick of enemy territory. It was unfortunate, really, but Arthur had no choice but to go along with it and smile and nod his head at all the right times and places.

It was all he really could do, if he wanted to keep up the persona that he had so carefully and painstakingly crafted around his friends, and Arthur could only hope that the others weren’t cruel enough to send it all tumbling down. Not that they would even care, he supposed.

As they quickly descended the concrete stairs into the pit, Mathias caught sight of Lukas, waving to him with an elated smile spread across his face. And though Mathias was focused on his boyfriend and only on him, everyone else at the table turned their heads towards Vlad and Arthur, a few looking between the two with unfamiliarity, the others glaring at the latter. Either way, their eyes were sharp as knives and their faces as cold as ice.

Arthur ignored them, however, keeping his chin up and facial expression pleasant, even when he oh-so desperately wanted to scowl and sneer. He couldn’t, though, he wouldn’t, not when they expected him to. Not when they were counting on him to.

“Lukas~!” Mathias hopped up from the bench, almost tripping as his foot was caught on the edges, but quickly recovered, running up and pulling Lukas into a hug. He was fast, really fast, to have crossed the pit so quickly, but Arthur figured that with his record of being on the football team, that was a given.

Lukas giggled as Mathias whispered into his ear, putting his hand on the latter’s chest. Arthur was suddenly reminded of how sickening the two were when they were with each other, and it baffled him that even though they had been dating for about a month now, they had still not left their honeymoon phase. At this point, he doubted that they ever would. At least not any time in the foreseeable century.

Grumbling when Mathias pulled away, Lukas turned back toward Arthur and Vlad, his smile sweet and serene. He motioned to Mathias with his free hand, the other still on his chest. The two looked like a middle class couple standing in front of their suburban home, their brand new, shiny minivan parked behind them. Disgusting. “Guys, y’all remember Mathias.”

Mathias smiled, giving the two a short and light wave. Arthur stayed silent, simply giving him a nod of acknowledgment, letting Vlad do the work.

The latter cocked his hip and head to the side, his signature smile already spreading across his face. Vlad crossed his arms, seeming smug. “Oh, trust me. We remember Mathias. He’s all ya talk about.”

Lukas blushed as Mathias’ eyes widened, his smile growing wider. By then, the latter had moved his hand to Lukas’ lower back- or at least, Arthur hoped that that was where it was- and tugged him towards him. “Aw~ babe, you talk about me?”

The rosy pink on Lukas’ cheeks turned into more of a cherry red, and Arthur had to fight to hold back a gag. Vlad choked, moving his hand to cover his mouth, the other one twitching, as if it was ready to join.

Lukas opened his mouth to say something, which would probably be something equally or even more mush than what Mathias had cooed at him, only to be- thankfully, for once- cut off by Alfred.

“Ay! Mathias! Quit yer chit-chattin’ and get yer ass over here!”

Mathias froze, his ever shining and strong smile faltering just a tiny bit, but enough to be easily noticed. It was quickly back up again, however, even stronger this time, and if Arthur hadn’t noticed it at the exact moment the mess up had happened, he wouldn’t have realized it.

Sending the three of them a quick, apologetic look- for what, Arthur guessed he would never find out- Mathias turned, strolling towards the table, Lukas on his heels. He waved for them to follow. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

A few faces at the table were easily recognizable, such as Antonio and Mr. Vargas’ grandson, whose name had already escaped him. Arthur supposed that he might’ve seen the others in the hallway once or twice, but could never bring up the memory. They all certainly seemed to know him, however, as they glared at him with mixed amounts of venom, one looking a bit more default than the others.

It made Arthur wonder if Mathias visiting them for lunch a couple weeks ago was more of a scouting mission than anything. To see what he would do in their presence, to see if Arthur would attack him with his friends sitting next to him. It made Arthur grit his teeth, to think that they could be using Lukas to get closer to him.

Thankfully, Mathias chose to sit at the end of the table, far away from Alfred and the little snake clinging to him. Maybe the two had decided to provide a unified front today in the face of their greatest enemy, show that yes, their relationship may be crumbling into little bitty pieces- at least, it looked that way- but oh boy, could they pretend the opposite. Pretend a unified, strong, loving front.

It made Arthur feel sorry for them, in a way, but he quickly reminded himself that they deserved everything they got, and everything they will get.

The four stopped at the end of the table, Mathias taking a few steps back so everyone could get a good look at them. In a way similar to the time of his confession, Lukas seemed to shrink into himself a little bit, though this time it seemed more of a nervous habit than anything.

“Guys.” Mathias smiled, his layers of freckles scrunching on top of each other. “This is Lukas.”

A boy Arthur didn’t know, one with fair white hair and tinted sunglasses, gave Mathias a toothy smirk. “Lukas, as in the main one, or Lukas the side dude?”

Alfred’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped, looking at the one who spoke with pure horror laced in his voice. “Oh my god, Gilbert. Stop. Don’t.”

Gilbert’s smirk turned into more of an ashamed frown, and he reached for his bottle- gray metal with a red top, grumbling behind it before taking a swig. “So, I guess that joke stopped being funny.”

Mathias’ smile was tense, and he took in a sharp breath, letting it out through his nose before he spoke. “Yes, it stopped being funny months ago. Months. Ago.”

Gilbert blushed, looking down. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Thank you.”

Arthur watched their exchange, trying his best to keep in a snicker. What came out was more of a choking sound, and Vlad looked at him, a knowing smile on his face. The latter covered his face, his thumb digging into his cheek, as if he were trying to keep his own laughter from falling out.

Remember who the particular joke was at the expense of, Arthur slightly leaned forward, looking across Vlad and to Lukas. He was frowning, the blush from before faded from his cheeks. Arthur would’ve thought that he had not understood the joke, would’ve believed it, until he noticed that his lips were slightly pursed.

“Anyway.” Mathias’ cheery smile was back up, though he flashed a quick warning look to those at the table. A possible threat, should they choose to make anymore jokes without thinking them out thoroughly beforehand. “This is Vlad…” He trailed off, wincing.

Vlad smiled, nodding his head. “Vlad Popescu.”

Mathias frowned, his eyebrows scrunching. He bopped his head side to side, pursing his lips into a fine line. “Yeah… I’m not even gonna try to say that.”

The table laughed, some louder than others, while Mr. Vargas’ grandson just rolled his eyes. Arthur noticed a fault in his act, however, as there was a small, tiny smirk on his face.

Mathias chuckled along with the group, softly shaking his head. Alfred, followed by a few others, tried to pronounce Vlad’s last name with varying levels of accuracy, Vlad watching them with an amused smile.

Arthur thought that he was perhaps the only one who noticed that Mathias’ smile and laughter had faded, his lips pursed into a fine line.

“And this, uh.” He rubbed the back of his neck, adjusting his feet, looking at Arthur as if he was going to reach out and bite his head off. As if he were the boogie monster, searching for more high schoolers to chew and munch on. When Mathias spoke, he did so quickly, in a rushed way, trying to get the words out of his mouth as fast as possible. “And this is Arthur Kirkland.”

The laughter at the table was shot, everyone silent. The mood soured, the elephant in the room suddenly remembered, the silent problem that they had been desperately trying to ignore.

In a playful, fun manner, one that was unusual for him, Arthur stuck his tongue out at them, bopping his head side to side. He ignored the sneers he received in return.

Vlad snickered, though seemed a bit confused, shaking his head at Arthur’s antics, while Lukas’ silent brooding had broken into a small chuckle. Arthur smiled, pretending that being bubbly and cheerful was his default mood, even if he was feeling almost the exact opposite. Smile and nod, he told himself, be the person they didn’t expect him to be.

Eyes wide, brow shot up, Mathias nodded before motioning to the bench. Vlad and Arthur crowded onto the bench, Lukas making a last-second decision to move to the other side. Arthur made sure to sit at the very edge, so he could easily slide out in need of a quick escape.

Mathias perked up, making a small, “oh”, sound, standing again. He chuckled breathlessly, rubbing the back of his neck. A habit, maybe. “Forgot to introduce everybody to y’all.” He cleared his throat as Arthur and his friends leaned forward, examining those at the table just as they did them. Lukas and Vlad with a bit more curiosity and much less hate than Arthur.

Mathias nodded his head to each person as he said their name, each one giving a small motion of acknowledgment in return. “Uh… I’ll go in order.” He began with his row, starting at the very end. “Alfred F. Jones, Kiku Honda, Ivan Braginsky, and me, of course.” The third of the mentioned, Ivan, smiled, while Alfred gave a half-assed grin. Kiku only deadpanned. Mathias turned his head to the bench on the other side, where Vlad and Arthur were sitting, doing the same type of introduction as he did previously. “Y’all’ve already met Gilbert Beilschmidt, then there’s Antonio Fernández Carriedo, and Lovino Vargas- Mr. Vargas’ oldest grandson. There’s also Francis, but he’s been out for the week.”

Lovino frowned at his own introduction, seeming displeased to have been associated with his grandfather. It must’ve been a regular thing, Arthur figured, for him to be so against it.

Alfred sniffled, crunching his face up as if he were trying to summon fake tears. He smacked his hands together the way someone would if they were deep in prayer, shaking them once or twice. When he spoke, his voice was laced with faux sadness. “We’ve lost our boy Francis to the flu.”

The table burst into laughter, Mathias yelling, “Rip Francis”. Arthur cringed as they earned several looks from the surrounding tables, some frowning and others rolling their eyes and returning to their lunch.

Gilbert, who had stayed silent during the entire exchange, was frowning as well. He pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, clearing his throat. He seemed to have recovered- if only a little bit- after his failure at humor, feeling enough confidence to speak again. “So, uh, how have y’all been settlin’ into yer new relationship?”

The conversation launched off at that, with Mathias and Lukas raving about each other and their date together. And though he had heard both sides in a total of around a million times, Arthur smiled through it, laughing at all the parts he was supposed to, along with everyone else.

Mathias and Lukas exchanged sickening smiles as they talked, Arthur having to occasionally shove down a gag and Vlad failing to.

Arthur sometimes found himself leaning down to look at the others at the table, measuring their reactions to certain parts. At any time Arthur was mentioned, Alfred winced the tiniest bit, hiding it behind Kiku’s hair. The latter tensed each time, swallowing hard, but relaxed and smiled a few moments later, giving a few loving glances in Alfred’s direction.

He was sure that he was the only one who could tell it was fake. Their movements were too tense, too robotic, as if they were only doing it because they were expected to. As if everyone figured and knew that they were going to do it, and would raise questions should they not go along.

And he had to admit to himself, though not verbally to any one else, that it was amusing and relieving to see it.

He looked away, knowing that if he stared for any longer he would be caught. As he turned his gaze to the left, Antonio- he already had to see his neighbor at least once a day, for god’s sake-glared daggers at him, a scowl etched on his face. Arthur smiled in response, bright and kind, and returned his attention back to the conversation at hand. He smirked when he heard Antonio quickly mutter something under his breath, something that anyone else would cringe at.

Perhaps Antonio should consider leaving his boyfriend to use that type of act, Arthur thought. It wasn’t doing much good for him.

Arthur perked up when Mathias and Lukas fell silent, just staring at each other with wonder and awe. Arthur was almost tempted to pull out his phone and look up how long the honeymoon phase of a relationship was supposed to last, but decided not too, if only because he didn’t want to drain his phone battery thinking about something so stupid.

The conversation had fallen flat, with everyone looking around, trying to think of a new topic. Occasionally, someone would open their mouth, prepared to say something, only to close it, a dejected look spreading across their face. The whole situation at hand was terribly awkward, and Arthur wanted nothing more than to slide out of the bench and walk away, off to somewhere quiet. Maybe the library.

After what seemed like ten minutes, like ten years, Vlad perked up, his eyes wide and a full-fledged smile twisting his mouth. So~. He looked around the table, giving each person a glance before moving on. “What’re our plans for Halloween?”

Arthur groaned. He had completely forgotten about the holiday a little more than a week away, a while he didn’t do anything, at the most leaving his house until the wee hours of the morning, he knew that this year wouldn’t be the same case.

For the first time since their lunch session had began, Alfred’s eyes widened, a bright, wonder-filled smile displaying straight white teeth on his face. He took in a sharp breath, shallowly waving his hands. “Oh my god. I love Halloween! There was this one time in middle school where Kiku came over to my house and we toilet-papered Mattie’s- oh, that’s my twin brother, by the way- room and it was hil-ar-i-ous! Kiku, ya remember that?” Alfred smile at his boyfriend, who only nodded back. Seemingly deeming his response valid, Alfred, laughing as if he were a child in a candy store, put his hands behind his head and leaned back. “Ah, man. Y’all should’ve seen Mattie when he walked into his room. From the way his hands were twitchin’, you could definitely tell he was gonna strangle me!”

Arthur laughed along with the rest of the table, not entirely seeing the humor in his story, Alfred pulling Kiku close as he joined in. The latter seemed uncomfortable in their new position, pushing his shoulders up and bracing his hands on the edge of the table. Alfred didn’t seem to notice, and if he did, his laughter didn’t fade, nor did his smile falter. Not even the teeniest bit.

Either these two were always like this, even at the very start, or Alfred F. Jones was one of the greatest actors Arthur had ever seen.

Mathias nodded his head as he chuckled, taking in a shallow breath when he calmed down. He shook his head before turning to Lukas. “Are you guys doin’ anythin’? For Halloween?”

Just as Arthur was about to open his mouth, to deny that they had plans, Vlad swiftly cut him off, nodding enthusiastically. “We’re gonna go trick-or-treatin in my neighborhood. There’s this old lady a couple blocks down from my house who gives out some big-ass chocolate bars every year.”

Arthur groaned, just thinking of all the chocolate he was going to be getting. American chocolate that made him want to puke his guts up. A few people turned his way, but he ignored them, instead favoring on reminiscing on his British sweets that he had been forced to abandon.

Maltesers, Cadbury Eggs, Smarties- the chocolate ones, not the American flavored cocaine. All of the delicious candies that he had to leave back in the UK, his mother not allowing him to take even on a small bag on the plan with him or pack one in his suitcase. As if she genuinely believed it would be the same here.

And now, here he was, stuck in a country whose chocolate would only appease those who had never tasted their superior British counterparts. It was a shame, really, that they would never be able to taste what he loved and adored so dearly.

Clearing his throat, he looked to Vlad, who was staring at him with a raise eyebrow. Arthur tried his best to look confused as he spoke, raising the tone of his voice. “Wait. We are?”

Vlad nodded shallowly, Lukas staring at Arthur as if he had just said the stupidest thing possible. “Yeah, man, we always go over to my place.”

Arthur deadpanned, cocking his head to the side. “I’ve never even stepped foot into your house.”

Vlad perked up, his eyes widening. “Right~. That’s right.” He nodded as if he knew it all along, Arthur having to hold in a snort.

The table fell silent for about fifteen seconds, until Mathias perked up, his smile bright. “I know what we could do!” Everyone looked towards him, their faces revealing varying amounts of interest. Lukas smiled, face serene, the ever doting boyfriend. Perhaps Kiku should take notes. “We could all meet each other and go out of Halloween together!”

Arthur opened his mouth, along with a few others, to object, but was quickly cut off by Vlad, who straightened his back, rolling his shoulders. The latter smiled, one that almost rivaled Mathias’, before yelling at the same pitch, “Oh my god! That sounds like a fantastic idea!”

Arthur groaned, along with Lovino, the latter rolling his eyes. There were a few quiet complaints from the others, Ivan deadpanning, and from the corner of his eye, Arthur could see Kiku the Snake start to deflate a bit.

Nodding enthusiastically, Lukas grinned. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

The three began to talk, making plans that the others would no doubt be forced to participate in. With the actual holiday being a not too far away, Arthur didn’t have much time to prepare himself for the night of hell, a memory that he would no doubt shut out of his mind afterward.

Leaving them to talk, with his eyebrows raised in an interested expression, Alfred leaned forward, hunching over the table. Arthur rolled his shoulders back, forcing a lazy smile over his face, rolling over possible answers to Alfred’s question as he spoke. “So, Arthur, how long have you been in the States?”

Swallowing down a snort, Arthur bopped his head side to side, looking off, pretending that he actually had to think about it. He shrugged, clicking his tongue. “Oh, late July, maybe.”

Alfred nodded, seeming satisfied with Arthur’s answer. “How do y’all celebrate Halloween in England?”

Arthur sighed at the question, not entirely expecting it. His family had never been too big on it, nor anyone in his neighborhood, his mother claiming it an excuse for Arthur to terrify young children. Nevermind that it Dylan and William were the ones doing such a thing, with Allistor and George cheering them on. But Arthur had always been blamed for everything, from putting worms in Peter’s wellies to shredding one of his father’s proposition letters. There wasn’t anything that he hadn’t done in his parents’ eyes.

Not that he really cared anymore. Arthur had long stopped trying to convince him that it wasn’t him who committed the crime, his resolve crumbled after falling on deaf ears more times than he could count.

He shrugged, curling his lip and furrowing his brow. “We don’t really do anything. I mean, some younger kids go out, but that’s about it.”

Those who were listening nodded, Alfred seeming a bit disappointed. Arthur had to hold in a scoff, just barely doing so, pursing his lips into a fine line. He was just about to open his mouth, about to ask what was wrong and what had them acting like their puppy was brutally murdered, when Antonio- Antonio, of all people- cut him off.

“Speaking of moving in, how did your family enjoy the Tarta De Santiago? Y’know, the almond cake that my mother spent hours preparing and making?” Arthur could taste the venom from his voice.

Arthur took in a sharp breath, giving a smile that mirrored Antonio’s. He had almost forgotten about that, which was a shame, since now that he thought about it, that moment was probably one of the highlights of his year. Relaxing, leaning back, with his smile turning nonchalant, he waved Antonio’s silent accusation away. “It was wonderful. It really… hit the spot.”

He knew enough of basic Spanish to know that what Antonio cursed at him wasn’t anything pleasant. In a quick, brutal succession of words, all the conversation at the table ceased, everyone silent and watching. How dramatic.

Arthur quickly put his hand over his mouth, his eyes widening. He tried his best to make himself look shocked. Distressed. Ever the victim who did nothing but respond to a simple question, only to be attacked for it.

Vlad straightened his back, glancing at Arthur as Lukas hopped up from his bench and quickly stepped over to them. He turned towards the end of the table, his expression wary and concerned. “Is everything alright here?”

Keeping up his act, if only because he was curious of what would happen if he were to go along, Arthur leaned back and to the side, whispering to his friends in a hushed and frantic tone, forcing a couple stutters along the way. “Guys- I don’t think that I’m wanted. Here, I mean.”

He was quiet enough that while Lukas and Vlad would be the only ones able to hear him, the others would definitely be able to hear the hushed sound of whispers. Arthur made a quick glance up, reveling in the pure wrath slathered across Antonio’s face and the irritated ones near him. It was hard, so, so hard, not to break into a smug smirk.

Lukas frowned, shaking his head, wringing his fingers. He let out a shallow breath, slumping forward, leaning in as Vlad turned around. “No, Arthur. Of course you’re welcomed. Maybe-” Lukas sat up, sending a short glance in Antonio’s direction, who was still seething, before turning back to Arthur and Vlad. “Maybe Antonio’s just having a bad day. Mathias said that he’s usually sunny and sweet.”

Arthur doubted that, instead thinking that Antonio had a bad day when he had to see Arthur, a daily occurrence, but decided to go along. He looked at the ground, wiggling one of his shoes- Converse, as he had been encouraged to try them out- and nodded timidly.

Even though he wasn’t even that deep into his little game, he could feel the rage radiating from Vlad. Arthur quickly turned around, seeing his friend’s jaw clenched, his fingers flexing. He tried to hide it, but Arthur was close enough that he would have been blind not to have seen it.

If Lukas noticed it, he didn’t show it, not even a twitch of the eye. Instead, he was focusing on Arthur, his concern growing more and more. Arthur had to hold in a snort, if only to keep his act up.

Vlad’s mood softened, if only a little bit, and he said with a sympathetic wince, “Maybe we should go…”

Lukas looked up at Vlad with no small amount of shock, before turning to Mathias. The latter winced, shrugging his shoulders, looking unsure about what had just happened. It was almost as if he had expected Arthur to lash out back at Antonio, to hit with just as much, if not more, wrath as he received.

Interesting.

Deflating, Lukas sighed and shook his head. He stood, leaning over the table to whisper into Mathias’ ear, and when the latter nodded, kissed him on the cheek.

Vlad put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, giving him a tight squeeze. Sensing that they were- finally- about to leave, Arthur stood from the bench, hanging his head and slouching his shoulders.

“Um, we had fun.” Lukas gave everyone at the table, save for Antonio, a small, forced smile, nodding his head. “Maybe we should do this again.” Unlikely, but Arthur figured he was just trying to be polite.

Where Arthur expected Mathias to be the one to respond, Alfred perked up, smiling and nodding his head enthusiastically. “We definitely should! I’m lookin’ forward to it!” As he finished, he sent a quick glance to Arthur, and the latter could’ve sworn he saw his smile falter. “Y’all have a good day.”

Vlad’s hand moved from Arthur’s shoulder to his upper back, rubbing it in a circular motion. After grabbing their backpacks, softly groaning at the weight, Lukas caught up to them, sorting between which one belonged to who.

As Arthur slung his over his shoulders, he clenched the straps, his knuckles turning white. Details, details were what made it convincible, made the act into something real.

As they walked away, though, heading to their own usual table on the other side of the pit, Arthur couldn’t help it. He turned, looking straight at the one they had just departed from, its occupants staring back. Antonio was still seething, Kiku simply giving a disinterested sneer. What was the most surprising was Alfred, whose smile had watered down into more of a wince, his brow furrowed. He actually looked worried.

But that all changed, their expression turning into ones of shock when Arthur, just for them, broke his act into little piece. Making sure that his friends wouldn’t notice, he smirked, a smug little thing that even his mother would be proud of, sticking his tongue out and wiggling it side to side.

If he were to recount this lunch period ever again, then Arthur wouldn’t be exaggerating when he would say that Antonio’s howling could be heard throughout the courtyard.

FYI, just writing those few paragraphs about chocolate in the US was painful to my American soul. Ghirardelli is some pretty good stuff.

I’ve realized that I mention Arthur’s older brothers without anyone actually knowing who they’re supposed to be. Allistor is Scotland, William is Wales, Dylan is Ireland, and George is Northern Ireland. And, of course, Peter is Sealand. It’s really weird when people write Wales, N. Ireland, and Scotland as England’s brothers without including Ireland? That just really gets to me? I mean, I know Hima listed those three as his brothers, but it just feels… weird. So Arthur will have four older brothers in pretty much all of my fics.

Also, thank you thank you thank you to all those who participated in my survey for chapters 1-10! It was really nice to read what y’all had to say about what you liked and what I could improve on. While you may not think so, it helped a lot! Arthur is, of course, the favorite character, but I was also surprised to see Vlad show up a lot. Really, I’m just making my portrayal of Vlad as I go along, cause I’ve never really focused on Aph Romania, so it’s nice to see that everyone’s liking him so far. The least favorite character is a mix of Arthur’s mother and Kiku, which is definitely what I’m going for.

Once again, for those who participated, thank you so much! I’ll have another one for chapters 11-20 cause oh my god, it helped so much. I’ll be surprised if Cross Life doesn’t reach chapter 35, cause we’re not even halfway through yet. The chapter for Arthur’s plan will be in the next couple months or so (and I’m really nervous about it), cause I want it to happen by the end of the first semester.

Thank you for those who wished me good luck with school, as you can see from my late update time (one whole month, yuck), it’s already bearing down on me. I honestly did not expect this much homework, but what can you do :P. I’ll try to update as soon as I can, which will probably mean I’ll be a two weeks off at the most, but just know that I’m constantly working. I won’t discontinue this, cause honestly, Cross Life is my entire life right now. I constantly think about it.

Finally, I really wanna write Gilbert realistically and without using stereotypes (I’ve done a lot a research just for his short appearance in this chapter) so if I ever accidentally write anything offensive, please tell me. You would not believe how many tabs are open on my computer for research. Gilbert will be showing up more and more as the story goes on, because I love his character so much

Sorry for such a long note! I ramble too much. Anyways, thank you so much for reading Cross Life Chapter Eleven: Line Walking, and I hope to see you all soon! The next chapter will take place on Halloween, so I’m really excited about that. Have a fantastic morning, day, and evening!

#Aph UsUk #Aph UkUs #Aph America #Aph England #Aph Norway #Aph Romania #Aph Greece #Aph Prussia #Aph Japan #RantingFangirl #The Fanfiction Life of RantingFangirl

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thebethbits · 5 years

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field trip to the art institute.

I attended the Art Institute of Chicago on a rainy Sunday morning, full of possibility. It had just opened, and the hallways were open wide, some galleries completely empty. It felt like a place for retreat, a place to come and set down my responsibilities, my worries, my to-do list, and just exist, for a little while. To think, compare, and talk to myself, learn about myself – why did I like this piece? What about it draws me to it, what keeps my attention? How would someone go about making it, what is the process like? Learning about myself alongside learning about art, being in a place with artifacts and histories from around the world feels like cumulation of humanity under one roof. It’s beautiful, a little sad, and leaves me with many more questions than my curiosity has answers for.

Some of the pieces that caught my attention the most were of various different sorts, styles, and mediums.

Relief, Charles Green Shaw, 1937. The Art Institute of Chicago.

Relief, by Charles Green Shaw, was on view in one of the American Art galleries, next to other paintings and objects in glass cases. Yet it stuck out, looking like something more fitting towards the abstract galleries, with its shapes and pops of color, as well as the fact that it is made out of wood. Unlike its neighbors, Shaw’s piece is more than just paint on canvas, quite literally jumping out of the frame’s two-dimensional space. It was unlike anything else in the room, in the gallery, and I loved it.

Upon further research, I found that this work was inspired by Shaw’s challenge for himself, to create a piece of art that did not require a specific subject to provoke an aesthetic response from its audience. It is both painting and sculpture, within a frame. It meshes traditionalism with new age abstraction and conceptual efforts, and it amazes me – art that challenges and makes you question your initial reactions to art in general. (Shaw)

I’m including two pictures – one in neutral lighting from the Art Institute’s website, and another that I took in the gallery, where the light shining down onto the piece caused multiple shadows that made it look like the pieces themselves were vibrating. The piece is absolutely stunning, conceptually and visually.

The Landing Place, Hubert Robert, 1787-1788. The Art Institute of Chicago.

Hubert Robert’s The Landing Place is one piece in a collection of four colossal paintings that were a part of a commission to decorate a salon in the late eighteenth century. The size of it is the first thing you really see when you walk into the gallery – it’s nearly eight and a half feet tall by nearly seven and half feet wide. They take up almost a fourth of an entire gallery wall. Walking towards it, it feels more like a portal than a painting, the details and color so rich that you could step into it, and come out into the scene itself.

Something about the light of the gallery adds a golden-hued touch to the piece. The shadows seem more pronounced in their details, the direct light highlighted brighter. Like a more direct lighting approach that doesn’t quite copy itself to the online version, so I’m putting both pictures in here as well.

This was also the piece that I sat with for fifteen minutes for the Responsive Time Exercise.

It is the sky that pulls me in first, after looking up from starting my stopwatch. The contrast of light to dark, the clouds beckoning dusk, or daybreak, how people have already gathered together in this space in the early hours of the fabricated day. The canvas is stunning, in both scale and content. If I close my eyes to my surroundings, the painting’s scene feels incredibly real, like I'm there, the warm breeze and insects chirping, the light falling in, shading the structure, full of depth and scale.

I can’t seem to grasp the scale accurately in words – the painting must be twice my height, maybe a little over, how incredibly vast and wonder-filled this piece looks, how the people gathered all around are ants compared to the towering architecture, and how yet it makes them feel as if they are so alive, within their detailing. The boats. The texture of the water, the differences in clothes and colors and ages. It brings so many questions to light: who are they? Why have they come? Who are they meeting, and where are they going to go? Why have they come here, now, or is it then? Where is this place? What smell does the wind bring? How hot is the air?

Or maybe, there isn’t a story here at all. Or there are too many stories to be seen. Who built this place? Where did the materials come from? Why choose these pictures – is it a shrine? A place of knowledge? A place of peace? Why did Robert choose this scene, these types of locations for his patron? Reviving Hellenistic ideals? Is he trying to show calmness through scale? Peace through space and time? Domesticities and how history makes romantics of us all? How even the smallest of activities can be beautiful?

I’m now five minutes into the response, and I’ve come to decide that there are two versions of this painting - one version up close, and one far away. The entire piece is too big to really feel the scale up close, where the gallery’s lights reflect the texture of the brush used and the sky, the clouds, the colors, all disappear beneath the shine of it. Yet from afar, it almost seems like the scale is more striking. The color vibrates. The structure and framing of the scene seem to focus the lighting, the whole of the scene.

Up close, the details are in their full glory. There is nothing you cannot spot; wrinkles, shadows, texture and incredibly minute, small details you may have missed from afar. The woman peeking out behind the column to the right. The groups beyond the right-side gate. How they are together, or separated. The woman below catching the large boat from her own. The effort that Robert put into this piece, as well as his other three in the collection, isn't for even a moment half-hearted, nor half-hazardly detailed, every face has eyes, a nose, a specific look to them and only them. The statue has a dedication written on it. There are faces and further statues on the gates beyond. There is so much attention to lives that don’t even exist, the piece is overflowing with love and care. There is so much beauty in this piece, it strikes and never stops. It feels never ending, beauty upon beauty upon beauty – nature, architecture, humanity, domesticity. Once you see it, you can’t stop.

Ten minutes in, and surprisingly, I'm not yet tired of standing here, nor of this piece. It feels as if every time I look up there is something new to see, and maybe I’m cheating a little bit, choosing such a large piece, but it is everything I admire put in a painting. Parts history, humanity, domesticity, all under a rosy sky. The romanticism of everyday life, how it in itself is art. It leaves me wondering what the other people passing by are seeing. What are they drawn to first? What am I supposed to take away? What am I supposed to see, where am I supposed to look? Is it not subjectively, not entirely up to me? Aspects like shading and lighting can direct my eye, but the pieces that portray love and humanity – how am I to look away?

The detail is too much, now, almost, you feel too powerful, seeing everything. To be able to control this perspective of daily life. It feels unnatural, but real in the same tone. I want to hang it from my wall, peace and power and domesticity. I adore this piece because it feels like a memory, I've decided. Something rose-filmed but true, depending on how you see, where you look. Beauty, everywhere. So blatant, like it has nothing to hide, in everything, afar, close, in every step in-between.

I hadn’t planned out what pieces I was going to pick for the exercises beforehand, deciding on wanting to find them within the museum and being inspired, pulled towards them. I found one for the response exercise in the colossal pieces done by Robert, and found my secondary pick, for the criticism analysis, tucked into the Contemporary galleries on the second floor.

Velocitas – Firmitudo from the Dürer’s Loops series, Sigmar Polke, 1986. The Art Institute of Chicago.

Velocitas – Firmitudo is a graphite, silver oxide and damar resin made piece by Sigmar Polke in 1986. The plaque on the wall had no further background information. It was a mystery within the gallery, and one I wanted to piece apart and see if I could solve by analysis, so I chose it for the analysis exercise. Yet even before that, it stuck out to me, feeling almost like an mounted optical illusion – part topographical map, part three-dimensional treasure map, part story told through script, part picture of the sea taken from space – it felt like everything worldly poured down into one piece, in shades of grey. It looked like sand struck still on the canvas, inked and blown away to create dunes. How did one piece manage to convey so many different perspectives, so many images that I could list and list for what felt like forever? What was Polke thinking when creating this piece, this series? Why does it look like it will change, as soon as I look away?

It’s a fairly large piece – nearly eight feet wide by eight and a half feet tall – and is incredibly striking, for using only black and white for its range of color. It has many different textures on the underlying later, that look like they are overlaying themselves. There are thin ones, thicker edges, like mountain ranges of contrast. It is more sparse in activity around the edges, and then gets more intense the further to the center of the piece you look. Over the center of the piece is a black detailing. It looks to be two lines that intersect towards the center of themselves, and yet diverge greatly. The left is circular for most of it on the right, but on the left diverges into a looping, almost cursive-like detailing that twists and curves along and around itself. On the left it curves off to the opposite right side of the piece, a great curve leading to smaller details, looping in and around itself there as well.

The design elements this piece portrays are space, color, texture, form, and line. The line is the first thing that draws your attention into the piece. The dynamic dark blacks contrast the lighter greys in color, playing against the different textures. Some look to be almost splattered or spray-painted, others traced upon itself over and over until bleeding-edged and dark, others dripped down to look elongated and heavy in form. The space of the entire piece is enthralling, it is heavy in some places and blank entirely in others, a conundrum in itself. The design principles present in the piece are emphasis, balance, variety, and movement. The emphasis of the contrasting colors and textures. The balance in them as well, the whole piece looks equal on both sides, not one heavier than the other. The variety in textures, in shades, in the touch of elegance in the line symbol that adds movement to the piece. Polke has organized his work in almost diagonal quadrants, from range to range, the blurred darkness to the heavy edges to the lighter outlying edges of the entire piece. Your eye follows the line, at first, from left to right to back again, before it really sees beneath, and then gets stuck in the middle range of shading before following the rest of the piece up and counter-clockwise, before starting the whole process again and again.

This piece is stunning in its abstraction. It looks like it could be a list of things, and yet none of them at the same time. It’s chaotic, and yet looks like it has a central concept or meaning, due to the emphasis and contrast of its elements. It looks like it’s meant for you to get lost in. To turn over and over, to follow that line again and again like it will lead to some final message of the piece. I think that that is what Polke wants, this repetition, this losing of oneself in the piece. Every bit of design choice that I could figure leads to this – the variety and yet balance, the constant linearity of perpetual guessing– there is curiosity at the center of this piece, I believe. It’s what makes your eyes go for one last time around the piece, tracing the edges of darkest blacks one last time. Polke wants you to feel the textures, the question, the never-ending curiosity of it, with just your eyes.

Head of A Woman, Pablo Picasso, 1909. The Art Institute of Chicago.

The Institute’s collection loses me, sometimes, within the modern contemporary galleries. I understand that there is incredible technique and thought that goes into the creation of these pieces, and it’s not a technical issue that separates them from my eye. Sometimes, it feels as if there are just too many concepts at play and it overwhelms me, seeing them all crisscrossed across one another. Pieces, for example, like Picasso’s Head of a Woman, are technique-based of interest, but the visual aspect I find lacking. I don’t know if it is the color choices or the style, but overall, it just doesn’t end up appealing to me. I really do love many types of abstract and contemporary pieces, and yet some don’t connect with me. Though, they are easier to walk past in knowing that others love them as I love other pieces.

Water Drop, Mineo Mizuno, 2011. The Art Institute of Chicago.

The piece that affected me the most emotionally I actually stumbled upon, tucked away in the corner of one of the Asian Art galleries: Mineo Mizuno’s 2011 work Water Drop. Personally, I really don’t believe that the online photograph does this piece justice. Seeing it in person, it feels like you’ve just caught it mid-bounce, pressed pause right where it has flattened itself at its lowest point, right before springing back up again. There is weight to this motion, to the curve of it. It’s surface tension that never breaks, forever holding, existing, keeping. It gleams with a lost possibility.

This feeling was emphasized upon reading the wall description – it’s a personal piece. Mizuno dug his hands into the center of the piece, his fingers curving marks into the sides of hollow crater at the piece’s center. The Japanese character Mizuno has written all over the piece represents “zero”, “null”, “void”, or “nothingness”, as well as the title of Japanese World War II fighter planes. Mizuno’s father had died in the war before he was born, addressing that loss in this piece. The emotion of it is nearly tangible, palpable, like you are waiting for the return of motion, the bounce, the breath of life – but it never comes.

Art Cited:

Mizuno, Mineo. Water Drop. 2011. The Art Institute of Chicago. URL. Picasso, Pablo. Head of A Woman. 1909. The Art Institute of Chicago. URL. Polke, Sigmar. Velocitas – Firmitudo from the Dürer’s Loops series, 1986. The Art Institute of Chicago. URL. Robert, Hubert. The Landing Place. 1787-1788. The Art Institute of Chicago. URL. Shaw, Charles Green. Relief, 1937. The Art Institute of Chicago. URL.

#field trip #6

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