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bigbadripley · 2 years

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Chapter 5 - What You Won’t Do

Marc Spector/Steven Grant x Female!OC

Summary: Marc never expected to see his childhood friend Simone ever again. To Simone, Marc may as well have been dead. However, when Simone met Steven 15 years after Marc disappeared, she couldn’t help but notice how familiar he was.

Warnings: Heavy language, OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma. Mention of childhood physical, and emotional abuse, brief mention of a gun, mention of smutty events, lots of angsty misunderstanding, L-bombs, everyone’s depressed and mad at each other

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings. I wrote this entirely as a trauma dump.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter list

"I guess you wonder where I've been I searched to find a love within I came back to let you know Got a thing for you and I can't let go" -"What You Won't Do For Love" by Bobby Caldwell

In times like these, Marc and Steven hated being a singular body. Steven manned the body nearly every waking moment since Marc's fight with Simone. Marc didn't question it, didn't come out to speak, nothing. Just stayed in the corner of their brain, feeling unwanted.

Meanwhile, Steven checked the phone every hour, wondering if he had missed a call from Simone.

Give it a break, man. Marc thought.

Though he refused to admit it, Marc felt insecure. He thought for sure that she would recognize him sooner. He imagined it happening differently, but Simone's waving a gun in their face made him realize where it went wrong. She was paranoid, and that was on them.

Another thing he didn't want to admit was how happy he was to sit and talk with her again before shit went awry. On the one hand, it felt like he was back in Chicago; miserable and trying to find an excuse not to return home so soon. On the other hand, he felt like he was wasting that time he would be at home with Simone again.

The old conflicting emotions confused him and scared him enough to use Steven as his shield again.

Steven rechecked the phone, saw nothing, and turned it back on the nightstand with a sigh. Is this fucker depressed? He hasn't heard from her for a few days, so what? I hadn't heard from her in years. Marc thought. He pushed through, finally ready to speak.

"You only knew her for three weeks, buddy. Get a grip." He said before going back to the recesses of the brain. Steven sat up,

"And it doesn't bother you that she hasn't called? You're taking the piss!" He shouted into the open air. Steven couldn't understand why Marc was the one hiding when it was his fault that Simone wasn't speaking to them. She tried to talk to Marc, but it was Marc who ran. Again.

"Sex doesn't always mean love. You'll figure it out."

Marc retreated back once he finished his sentence. He said all he needed to say.

When Simone wasn't working, she found herself in the same funk as Steven. She wanted to call but went on a journey to find treasure in a box of old belongings she kept from her mom's house instead. It was a Chuck Taylor shoe box; inside was everything she had left from that life. Two dollar bills, a buffalo nickel, a broken pearl rosary with loose beads, a few other odds and ends, and the note.

That fucking note.

It used to mean so much; she read it every night before bed, even after Marc left. Now it's a reminder of the worst day of her life. Looking at the quad-fold with "Moni" written on the exposed side again made her want to weep because of the old emotions it brought back.

We were so young. So naïve.

Simone couldn't bring herself to really reread it. Her eyes grazed over yesteryear's curly and scratchy handwriting, but they repeatedly darted to the word love. It was carved into the original note and her reply. She grew sick of seeing it.

What did this kid know about love?

The question replayed in her brain like a broken record. She thought she had known love a few times before. Each time something else was mistaken for love. Trina, Oliver, Zeke, Ben. How was Marc different? Her eyes flashed right back to "No matter what, I love you Moni." and "I will always love you, Spector."

What did those kids know about love?

She stayed sat on the floor next to her bed, rolling the corners of the old loose stationery paper between her fingers. Warm tears coated her cheeks, more in these last couple of days than any day she could remember in recent times. Only one other time compared to this watershed. When Marc left, and now he's back, and she's crying like this again.

What did those kids know about love?

"Only we were the only ones who had it for each other." She whispered subconsciously to herself, answering the question. It was no wonder she fell so hard for Steven so quickly. Yet, somehow, Steven was a totally different person in her mind. He surpassed everything she ever knew.

Simone closed the box back up and pushed it under her bed before she stood. She folded the note back to how it had been for so long and tossed it onto her nightstand.

Then, the shirt she threw off of herself while Steven was here caught her eye, dangling from the standing mirror that belonged to her roommate.

The sight of it tickled her. It brought a feeling in her belly that she had missed these few days. A feeling she had grown fond of the last three weeks. It was indescribable. Maybe not love, but desire and extreme like.

Even if she missed Marc for the last decade and a half of her life, she missed Steven right then.

"I'm going over there." Steven proclaimed as he finally got out of bed. He was tired of waiting, and if Marc wasn't going to try to do something, he sure as hell would.

Marc stopped their feet where they were. "No, you're not. Put this thing to bed."

"I can fix this." Steven insisted, grabbing his coat. "I wanna fix this mess we made."

Steven was convinced he could make it right, even if they both screwed up by keeping this secret. Marc was apprehensive.

"If you just show up there, you might be met with that gun in our face again. Don't be brave." Marc stopped them again. Steven had had enough of the mental tug-of-war.

"I don't get why you won't just talk to her. You're her oldest friend on the planet. You shut her out like she meant nothing to you! Simone is-"

He was cut off by his phone ringing, and every bit of courage he gathered to march to her place washed away. Steven was frozen in place as the thing he had been waiting for finally happened.

Marc reflected on what Steven had just said, knowing he was right and hating it. There was a place in time when Moni meant everything to him. He felt like he needed to work things out but was truly scared.

Steven still stood, feet wholly glued to the floor as he listened to the phone ring. He was suddenly sure it was Simone calling to say she didn't want to see him again.

Steven retreated, leaving only Marc to operate their body again. The phone continued to ring, seemingly growing lower the longer it went.

"Steven, she's calling to talk to you, buddy, not me." He said, hoping it would wake his counterpart up. Steven didn't budge.

Marc groaned and went to the phone. These fucking things ring too long these days. He thought before he choked down his pride and answered.

"Hello?"

"Oh, Marc... hi. Wow, I just lost my train of thought." Simone said on the other end. She sounded flustered and was expecting to hear the Englishman on this end. Marc didn't know what to say, so he stayed quiet. "Um, come over, will ya?"

"Yep, on our way." Marc proclaimed before promptly hitting the end call button. He sighed and looked at his feet. "Steven, you gotta meet me halfway here, man." He called out again. Nothing.

I guess I deserve this. Marc thought.

#moon knight #moon knight fan fic #moon knight fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel mcu #marvel smut #mcu fanfiction #mcu #mcu fic #fan fiction #fan fic #fanfic #marc spector #steven grant #angst

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age-of-moonknight · 2 years

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“Heatwave,” Power Man and Iron Fist (Vol. 1/1978), #87.

Writer: Dennis O’Neil; Penciler: Denys Cowan; Inker: Carl Potts; Colorist: Christie Scheele; Letterer: Janice Chiang

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mikauzoran · 3 years

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Lukadrien: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Seven

Read it on AO3: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Seven

“Aren’t you done yet?” Luka half laughed, half groaned, banging his head against the bathroom door.

“Perfection takes time,” Adrien informed primly from within. “It’s my first show. I want to make a good impression.”

Luka clicked his tongue. “Perfect Fifth, they’re going to love you, but you take longer in the bathroom than my ex, and I still need to do my makeup.”

There was a beat before Adrien tentatively asked, “…Are we at a point where we can make jokes about your ex?”

Luka contemplated this for a moment and winced, admitting, “No. No, I actually don’t think we are.”

“…Okay. That’s okay,” Adrien assured, opening the bathroom door.

Luka, still resting his head against the door in question, nearly fell over into Adrien.

Afterwards, he was equal parts glad and disappointed that he hadn’t crashed into his roommate because, if he had, Luka would not have been able to control himself.

As things stood, Luka got an eyeful of Adrien in ripped, black skinny jeans and punk couture topped off with messy, wild hair and a generous helping of eyeliner.

Luka’s temperature shot through the roof as all the blood in his body rushed south.

A frown slowly knitted Adrien’s eyebrows together as he watched his friend closely for a reaction and didn’t seem to get a positive one.

“…How…do I look?” he pressed tentatively, beginning to shift his weight uneasily back and forth, fidgeting under Luka’s intense gaze.

Luka was preoccupied with fantasies of pushing Adrien up against a wall and sticking his tongue down Adrien’s throat.

…Better yet, Adrien pushing Luka up against a wall and sticking his tongue down Luka’s throat.

“Is it that bad?” Adrien demanded, beginning to panic as he took the shocked silence the wrong way. “Did I put on too much eyeliner? I’m sorry. I should have asked for your help, but I thought I knew what I was doing because I’ve seen the way you dress, so I thought—”

“—Sorry. What?” Luka cut him off, managing to shake himself loose from his daydreams. “I’m sorry. I spaced for a minute there. What are we talking about?”

Adrien blinked twice slowly. “…Um… Do I look bad? You were staring.”

“Oh! No! Nonono,” Luka assured, waving his hands in an attempt to clear up the misunderstanding. “Sorry. NO. You look great. I was just…”

Some of the blood deigned to come back up into his face to make him look like a cherry tomato.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’m a little out of it. You look perfect. I love you—your eyeliner. And the hair,” Luka covered, mentally smacking himself.

“Oh,” Adrien responded uncertainly. “Thank you? I was kind of going for a Chat Noir vibe.”

“You look amazing.” Luka finally got it together and replied with an earnest smile. “You really nailed it. Jacob and Josie are going to coo and fuss over you.”

“Are you going to coo and fuss over me?” Adrien hummed, resting his forearm on the wall and leaning so that he very much resembled Chat Noir: lithe and predatory and very dangerous to Luka’s sanity in such tight clothing.

“I don’t think your ego really needs it,” Luka countered, “but I’ll consider it if you don’t make us late and we have a few minutes before we need to leave for the show.”

Adrien pulled out his phone and winced at the time. “Looks like my ego will have to wait to be stroked because we’re cutting it close as is.”

“Pity,” Luka sighed, not sure if he’d dodged a bullet or been deprived of an opportunity.

True to Luka’s word, Josie and Jacob did, in fact, coo and fuss over Adrien when he and Luka arrived at the bar where they’d be playing.

“Look at him!” Jacob exclaimed, showing Adrien to Marc like a prize being revealed on a gameshow. “He’s so precious! He looks like a real baby punk!”

Josie shot Luka a lascivious grin and quietly teased, “So, how are you holding up with him wearing those pants?”

Luka took her by surprise by answering honestly: “I’m going out of my freaking mind. Thank you for asking.”

The smirk promptly dropped off of Josie’s face to be replaced by a look of concern. “Luc, are you okay?”

Luka shook his head. “Adrien is the guy Marinette never got over, and Adrien had feelings for her too in the past, so when they meet up again, I can only guess at what will happen.”

Josie winced. “That…really sucks.”

“Yeah, so there’s no point in letting my feelings for him come back only so he can break my heart too,” Luka sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Kind of hard with him looking like that.”

“Everything okay?” Marc called out, drawing Jacob and Adrien’s attention to Luka.

Adrien’s eyes narrowed, and he came over to touch Luka’s cheeks and forehead, testing for fever. “Are you still feeling out of it, Orpheus? You do feel a little warm.”

Adrien’s hands on Luka’s skin only served to make Luka’s temperature jump an additional degree or two.

“I’ll be all right. Thanks,” Luka lied, slipping out of Adrien’s reach. “Probably just a twenty-four-hour bug. I’m going to go start the equipment check.”

Jacob opened his mouth to comment, but Josie caught him by the sleeve and whispered in his ear.

Marc quirked an eyebrow, and Josie repeated what Luka had told her for him as well.

Collectively, the group grimaced.

“What’s going on, guys?” Adrien inquired, looking back and forth worriedly between Luka’s retreating back and the rest of their bandmates.

“He’s just feeling a little depressed and hopeless right now,” Marc explained with a sad but kind smile. “We’ll have to figure out some way to make him feel better and lighten up a bit.”

“We should do something fun together,” Jacob agreed, going to sling an arm around Adrien’s shoulders. “No need to worry about it now, though. Right now, we just need to get through the show.”

Adrien nodded as Jacob led him over to the equipment to prepare for the performance.

“That was amazing!” Josie squealed, throwing her arms around Adrien as soon as they made it off stage.

“I can’t believe we pulled that off without a hitch,” Jacob laughed giddily, carding a hand through his spikey hair.

Marc rolled his eyes, giving everyone pats on the back. “I mean, we have been practicing every day this week for hours.”

“Still, Adrien was incredible,” Luka chimed in, giving Adrien’s arm a squeeze. “That was flawless.”

“Not completely flawless,” Adrien protested sheepishly. “But thank you. Seriously. Everyone…”

He looked around at his bandmates with an enormous, grateful grin. “Thank you so much for your patience with me this week. Thank you for letting me be a part of your group. This was really a team effort, and I never could have done it without you.”

“Aww. He’s so modest,” Jacob chuckled, pulling Adrien into a side hug and ruffling his hair.

“You could have managed without Jacob,” Josie snickered, giving the bassist a teasing elbow.

“Josephine, play nice,” Marc sighed in exasperation, shaking his head with a fond smile.

“We should celebrate!” Josie announced, pointedly ignoring Marc’s reprimand. “Who wants to get some drinks and dance?”

“Me!” Jacob’s hand shot up, and he proceeded to bounce up and down in place. “Me-me! Me!”

Luka winced. “I…can’t. I drove over here, and I need to be able to get Adrien home safe.”

“I could get you guys home,” Marc volunteered. “I need to bow out so I can go tuck my little girl in, but I can come back later and drive you home.”

“Hold up,” Adrien demanded. “You have a daughter?”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t shown you pictures yet,” Josie scoffed.

“Her name is Antoinette,” Marc gushed, beaming with pride. “She’s two years old, and she’s the best thing I’ve done in my entire life.” He whipped out his phone and navigated to his photos.

“Aww,” Adrien cooed as he looked at the picture of a pale toddler with ink black hair and even darker eyes in a green party dress with her arms wrapped around a fluffy white Maltese. “Marc, she’s adorable!”

“Thank you,” Marc preened. “I wish I could take the credit, but that’s all my wife Wakana.”

“Her smile is yours, though,” Adrien observed.

“You are the sweetest thing,” Marc laughed, patting Adrien on the shoulder before turning to Luka. “I should be back in about an hour, but you can stay later, if you feel like it. You feeling emotionally well enough to drink responsibly?”

Luka’s teeth sank into his bottom lip. “Maybe?” he fibbed.

Honestly, he was on the edge and could easily go either way. It could turn out to be a fun night with friends or the start of another drunken grief spiral.

Marc pursed his lips.

“Don’t fret so much,” Jacob chided, clicking his tongue as he slung his arm around Luka’s shoulders. “You’re no fun, Maman. I’ll look after Luc.”

“This does not inspire confidence,” Marc sighed.

“I’ll keep an eye on Luka,” Adrien volunteered. “I don’t drink, so I can play babysitter and make sure everyone’s okay until you get back, Marc.”

“Thank you,” Marc replied, only slightly exaggerating his relief. “I feel better leaving an adult in charge.”

“You don’t drink?” Josie pressed, ignoring Marc’s slight as she looped her arm through Adrien’s.

Adrien shook his head and smiled in embarrassment. “Yeah…I kind of don’t like not being in control. It’s dangerous, making yourself vulnerable like that. It would be different if we were somewhere safe and it was just people I trusted, but…”

Josie’s eyes narrowed. “Chéri, are you okay? Who hurt you?”

Adrien shrugged, averting his gaze, still not quite ready to admit that he’d been on the streets until just a few days prior.

Luka broke away from Jacob and went to Adrien’s side, resting a hand on his shoulder and looking him in the eye intently. “We don’t have to stay, if you’re uncomfortable. Just say the word, and I’ll take you home. It’s totally fine, Perfect Fifth. I don’t mind, honestly.”

“No, no,” Adrien assured, waving away Luka’s concern with one hand. “It’s good. I’m not uncomfortable, but thank you so much for always being so considerate. I appreciate it. No, I like dancing, so I have no problem hanging out with everyone.”

Luka let go of the breath he’d been holding, and the tension slowly faded from his body. “Okay. Good. Just let me know if you start feeling uncomfortable, though. Any time. I want to make sure you feel safe.”

Adrien smiled brightly, gratitude and affection filling his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Can we meditate for a moment on the fact that he calls him ‘Perfect Fifth’?” Jacob demanded, unable to hold in his laughter. “That is the sappiest thing, and I’m kind of jealous because I never got a cute pet name like that when I was dating him.”

“Ouch,” Adrien snickered, pulling away from Josie to wrap his arms possessively around Luka. “Sucks to be you. Guess Luka just loves me more.”

Marc shoot Luka a pitying look as he wondered if it were really okay to let Luka drink that night after all.

Meanwhile, Jacob cackled. “Ow! I am wounded. Even more so because it’s probably true.”

“So…if you’re Luka’s perfect fifth,” Josie puzzled, “does that make Luka your tonic?”

Adrien hummed softly in thought, not noticing as Luka tried not to spontaneously combust in mortification.

Not for the first time, Luka thanked the heavens that he was taller than Adrien so that Adrien couldn’t see the look on Luka’s face as Adrien embraced him.

“I mean…yeah,” Adrien replied softly, resting his head on Luka’s chest. “Luka’s always been my ‘tonal center’ in a way. Whenever I felt frazzled or lost as a teen, I knew I could go to him to help me find my way again…so I guess he is my tonic.”

“Aww,” Josie cooed. “That’s adorable. I was teasing, but you are just too cute.”

“Yeah,” Jacob sighed with a shrug. “I know when I’ve been beat. You win, Adrien. I could never say something that gooey with a straight face. You and Luka deserve each other.”

Adrien made a move to pull back to reply, but Luka hugged him in tighter, afraid that how he felt for Adrien was written plainly all over his face and that if Adrien saw it, he wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing a flat with Luka anymore.

“Sorry,” Luka whispered, burying his face in Adrien’s hair. “That’s…That’s really sweet. It means a lot to me that you think of me that way.”

“Of course,” Adrien chuckled, not minding the affection in the least. “You’re one of the few people in my life I’ve always been able to count on.”

“Okay, seriously,” Josie huffed. “Who hurt you? Who do I need to go beat up?”

Adrien broke away from Luka and turned to placate Josie. “It’s really not that bad. Please don’t assault anyone on my behalf.”

Luka turned away and quickly attempted to compose himself.

Marc gave him a questioning look, a silent offer of assistance, but Luka shook his head.

Jacob quirked an eyebrow.

“I reserve my right to assault whoever I determine deserves it,” Josie insisted indignantly, reaching out to ruffle Adrien’s hair.

Adrien gave up and submitted to Josie’s attentions with a small sigh and a reluctant smile. “Thank you, but I really am fine.”

“You’ll never convince her of that,” Luka informed, briskly changing the subject. “Let’s go get some drinks, shall we?”

Luka had regrets.

At that moment, his regrets were named Whiskey and Adrien.

More specifically, Adrien’s dancing.

Adrien dancing like that while wearing skinny jeans that reminded Luka how he had worshipped Chat Noir’s butt back in the day.

Luka didn’t really dance, but Jacob and Adrien had hit the dance floor, and seeing them together made Luka irrationally jealous, so he’d gone over there and started dancing with Adrien…and the alcohol in Luka’s blood was trying to convince him that it would be a good idea to tug Adrien in gently so that their bodies were pressed flush together and then kiss him for all he was worth.

Objectively, Luka knew that this was a very, very bad plan…but the way Adrien was swiveling his hips gave Luka ideas that would be easier to shake if he were sober.

And Luka was not sober.

“Where did you learn to dance?” he asked over the music in an attempt to distract himself from the bad ideas.

Adrien’s face flushed. “Mostly Chloé. She had alternating phases where she was really obsessed with pole dancing, belly dancing, and burlesque.”

“Oh,” Luka replied dumbly.

“Alya taught me a little too, though. Nino tried, but our styles are different,” Adrien elaborated, body flowing like liquid to the beat as he spoke. “I don’t think all of my lessons in ballroom and Latin dance count, but…I’m sure you’ll recognize where I stole this cute butt wiggle from.”

Luka did indeed recognize Marinette’s patented butt wiggle, and it made him feel all kinds of things he didn’t want to feel.

“Is that Marc over by the bar?” Luka asked, craning his neck as if trying to get a better view.

Adrien frowned and stopped dancing to look too. “…I don’t…think I see him?”

“I think that was him,” Luka lied. “You go ahead and keep dancing with Jacob and Josie. I’m going to meet up with Marc and take a seat.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Adrien inquired uncertainly. “Want me to walk you?”

Luka shook his head, needing to get away so that he could stop feeling so much. “Nah. He’s just over there. I can make it across the room by myself. You keep having fun, Angel.”

“O…Okay,” Adrien replied, still uneasy as Luka smiled reassuringly before turning to go.

Luka was quickly swallowed up by the crowd, and Adrien couldn’t quite relax after losing sight of him.

Luka made a beeline for the bar, numbing himself with more alcohol.

Fortunately, Marc really did show up within a few minutes and found Luka before too much harm could be done.

“I take it the evening took a turn for the worse?” Marc sighed, gently taking Luka’s glass away from him.

Luka groaned, resting his forehead on the counter. “I’m in love with him. I never stopped loving him, and now he’s going to start dating Marinette, and I’m going to have to pretend to be okay with this, to be happy for them, and I can’t do it. I can’t do this.”

“I think you’re catastrophizing,” Marc informed softly, reaching out to rub soothing circles between Luka’s shoulder blades. “I know it feels hopeless now, but hang in there, okay? Things will look a little less dark in the morning. You’re going to get through this.”

Luka shook his head.

“Shhh,” Marc cooed, giving Luka’s shoulder a squeeze. “Yes, you will. You’re strong, Luc. You’re tough, and you’re going to make it if I have to drag you out the other side.”

“What happened?!” Adrien gasped, stunned at the state he found Luka in fifteen minutes later.

Marc winced. “I think the alcohol suddenly hit him all at once.”

“Luka, are you okay?!” Adrien was at his side, fussing and carrying on, in seconds.

“No,” Luka moaned.

“He’ll be okay in the morning,” Marc promised through a doubtful grimace. “Or…at least by tomorrow evening. He just needs to throw up and sleep it off.”

Marc’s reassuring words did nothing to loosen Adrien’s pinched frown.

“Don’t worry,” Marc soothed, reaching out to rest a hand on Adrien’s upper arm. “He’s going to be okay. Trust me.”

Slowly, tentatively, Adrien nodded.

They packed Josie and Jacob into a cab to Josie’s house to take care of one another for the night and then loaded Luka into the backseat of Luka’s car, most of his weight supported by Adrien.

“You’re beautiful,” Luka purred as he played dazedly with Adrien’s hair. “So pretty.”

“Thank you,” Adrien replied self-consciously, not sure how to respond. “You’re pretty too.”

“You’re going to-to hurt me,” Luka chuckled darkly.

Adrien gave a start. “No, I’m not. I would never do anything to hurt you, Luka.”

“Not on purpose,” Luka hummed, dropping his head to Adrien’s shoulder. “Not on purpose…porpoise.” He laughed at that.

“Not on porpoise,” Adrien agreed, still feeling like he was on shaky ground.

“…I love you,” Luka snickered, giving Adrien’s neck a wet kiss.

Adrien gasped, his nerve endings lighting up as his stomach flipped involuntarily.

It wasn’t like the other times Luka had said those words or given Adrien a platonic kiss on the cheek or temple or forehead. It felt different and wrong and right all at the same time.

Adrien wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

“I…I love you too, Luka,” Adrien answered in the most conversational tone he could manage.

Luka only laughed, further unsettling Adrien.

When they got back to the apartment building, it took both Marc and Adrien to awkwardly trundle Luka up the stairs, down the hall, and into his bedroom.

That accomplished, Marc turned to Adrien with a delicate smile.

Adrien recognized it as the kind of smile he’d often received when the person smiling was about to attempt to manage Adrien.

His defences automatically went up.

“I think I’ve got it from here,” Marc informed with a tired sigh. “Thanks for your help.”

Adrien blinked, thrown off balance. “Uh…you’re welcome. I was actually about to say the same thing to you. I think I’m okay now, if you want to go home.”

Marc shook his head. “It’s okay, Adrien. I’ll stay with him.”

It sounded like a polite implication that Adrien should leave, and Adrien wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Luka had repeated over and over again that this was Adrien’s home now as much as Luka’s, but, suddenly, Adrien was feeling like an intruder all over again.

He turned to Luka. “Orpheus, do you want me to stay with you, or do you want Marc?”

“Marc can stay,” Luka grumbled out from under the arm he had tossed over his face. “Go ahead and go to bed, Perfect Fifth.”

Adrien pulled away, averting his gaze and wrapping his arms around himself. “Well…okay, then. I guess I’m no use here, so…um…I’ll just be in the other room if you need help finding things or something.”

“Thank you, Adrien. I’m pretty familiar with the house, though,” Marc replied with a strained smile.

“Right. Of course,” Adrien muttered, cheeks bursting into flames of humiliation. “Sorry. I’ll just…I’ll get out of your way.”

He’d gotten halfway to the door before Marc caught up and caught Adrien by the shoulder.

“You are not in the way, Adrien,” Marc assured gently, quietly so that Luka wouldn’t hear. “I have no doubt you’d do an amazing job of taking care of him. It’s not about you being capable or not. It’s just that he’s going through some stuff, and he wouldn’t want you to see him like this. He cares about what you think of him, and he doesn’t want you to see him as a mess.”

Adrien’s eyes rounded as he saw the sincerity in Marc’s expression.

“He doesn’t care if I see him gripping the edges of the toilet seat and puking his guts out,” Marc explained, “but he’d die if you saw him like that. He wants you to respect him and think he’s cool and all that.”

Adrien gave a soft snort. “I do respect him and think he’s cool.”

“Good,” Marc chuckled tiredly. “I’m glad to hear that…but he probably still wouldn’t want you to see him like this…you know?”

Adrien stuck out his lip in a pout but begrudgingly nodded anyway. “I just want to help, though.”

“You have been helping,” Marc assured, resting his hands on Adrien’s shoulders. “Everything you’ve done for him since you moved in has been tremendous. Trust me. I’ve seen him before and after you coming back into his life, and he has been doing so much better these past few days. You are a miracle worker…but I think it’s best if I take this one tonight…if that’s okay?”

Reluctantly, Adrien agreed. “…Yeah. I don’t like it, but I get it. I’ve…I’ve not reached out for help before when I needed it because I was afraid to let people see how bad things had gotten, so I do get it.”

“Good.” Marc gave Adrien’s shoulders an encouraging squeeze before pulling back. “You can help out again in the morning. He’ll need breakfast and aspirin and plenty of water. I’ll turn him over to you in the morning, but I’ll go ahead and take the night shift, all right?”

“All right,” Adrien affirmed, finally feeling a little better about it all.

So long as Luka still needed him. So long as Adrien wasn’t in the way.

“Perfect Fiiiiiifth,” Luka groaned deliriously.

Adrien was back at his side in an instant. “I’m here. What’s wrong? What do you need?”

“I love you,” Luka choked, and it sounded more like a lament than an affectionate remark.

“Love you too,” Adrien answered anyway, leaning in to press a light peck to Luka’s forehead. “Marc’s going to take care of you now, so you be good, okay? See you in the morning.”

“I love you,” Luka repeated balefully.

Adrien gave Luka an encouraging smile and patted him on the shoulder. “I love you too. Feel better, Orpheus.”

On his way out, Adrien sent Marc a worried look.

Marc did his best to inspire confidence and optimism, but Adrien wasn’t easily convinced.

Needless to say, no one slept well that night.

14 notes · View notes

galvanizedfriend · 4 years

Text

Fic: Speed Dating

KC Bingo 2020 by @klaroline-events

The prompt is: Losing a Bet

This is fluff inspired by an episode of House. I have no idea how successful this first endeavor into unknown territory was, but @itsnotacrimetoloveyou assured me it’s good and also confirmed that it is, indeed, fluff! Also, thank you for beta’ing this and for laughing at all the jokes! lol

I hope you guys enjoy it! :) Reblogs and comments are very much welcome!

______________________

There is something fundamentally wrong, Caroline thinks, in pitying the white, rich, genetically blessed art gallery owner she lives with. It feels like a waste of empathy. Klaus has the whole world at his feet. Wherever he goes, doors open, red carpets roll out, champagne bottles pop left and right. Which makes his brooding and scowling and antisocial behavior all the more inexplicable.

He isn't always like that, truth be told. When Caroline first moved in, Klaus was out and about all the time. Opening nights, exhibitions, soirées, premieres, parties - you name it. There were weeks when Caroline would barely see him. If he wasn’t at some event, then he was at the gallery, if not at the gallery, then locked up in his studio. As far as she knew, he was pretty much living the dream.

"He's never there," Rebekah said when she pitched the idea of rooming with her brother to Caroline. She used to share an apartment with Elena, but her friend had decided to take the next step with her dumbass of a boyfriend and since it was her name on the lease, Caroline was the one having to find a new place. Her money was short and so were her options. "Nik has this huge apartment all to himself and no one to really watch over it. All the plants I give him die within a week. He could use a roommate, honestly, and you'd be perfect."

"Is he looking for a roommate, though?"

"Not yet. He will be, when I tell him to."

"Rebekah -"

"Just come and see the place, ok? It's worth it."

It made no sense that a guy with his lifestyle and bank account would want to share an apartment with a complete stranger, and Caroline had the very strong feeling the idea never even so much as crossed his mind. Judging by the spirited spat she overheard between the two siblings while she waited outside, it was exactly the case. On her request, Rebekah went in first to talk to him; Caroline would only follow if he agreed to it. She didn't want to see the apartment of someone who wasn't looking for a roommate. She was about to sneak out through the stairs and pretend she'd never been there when Rebekah wrapped a hand around her arm and pulled her into the apartment. Before she could even manifest her exasperation, her snake of a friend walked out and locked the door behind her, leaving the two of them there to stare at one another in complete astonishment.

"I think we've been set up," she said, affecting an awkward smile.

"Rebekah has never learned the meaning boundaries, I'm afraid," he said, not nearly as fiery as he'd sounded a moment before while arguing with his sister.

"Look, this was not my idea, ok? I was just looking for a place, and Rebekah said — You know what, doesn't matter. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

Klaus looked at her — really looked at her — assessing her with such sharpness it stole the wind off her chest. Mikaelsons... they're an intense bunch.

"Since you're here," he said after a moment. "Can I offer you a drink for your trouble?"

He opened a bottle of wine that cost more than Caroline's previous rent and gestured for her to make herself comfortable on the giant leather couch in his living room. He wanted to know what she did for a living, how she knew his sister, why she was on the market for an apartment, what kind of place she had in mind, what her routine was like. It was all obvious questions you'd expect from a prospective roommate, but it never felt as though she was being interviewed. Conversation simply flowed, such an easy back-and-forth she didn't realize what was happening until it was hours later and Rebekah was back with a few shopping bags in her hands and a triumphant smile on her face.

"So, when do you move in?" she asked.

"Whenever she sees fit," Klaus replied, albeit glaring at his sister.

"Wait– what?" Caroline blinked, eyes cutting from one sibling to the other. "What do you mean?"

"A spoiled brat though my sister may be, she does have a point. This apartment could use another soul. If you feel so inclined, you can bring your things whenever it is convenient. The guest bedroom is furnished, but I can put it all in storage if you'd rather have your own set. There's also plenty of room for your personal things in the common areas, you can make it more to your liking. All I ask is that you don't replace the art on the walls. I rather fancy them."

Caroline's mouth moved wordlessly for a long time. "You... I thought you didn't want a roommate."

He shrugged nonchalantly, pouring himself another glass of wine. "I'm known to be rather volatile."

"But I can't — I mean, we didn't even discuss rent and expenses. I'm a med student, I can't afford this place."

"Nonsense. It's mine." Caroline drew the breath in for a righteous protest, and he added, "We can share the bills, if you insist."

And, well. It's not how Caroline likes to do business, way too sudden, with none of the meticulous in-depth analysis she usually applies to absolutely everything, from buying dish sets to choosing a new hairstyle. Moving in with someone she didn’t know at all seemed like way too big a deal for her to simply skip those vital steps. She didn't even compile her pros and cons list. But…

The neighborhood was fantastic, the type where she'd never afford to live in as a student, it was so conveniently close to school, and Elena was pestering the hell out of her to move out so Damon could move in. She'd been to four apartments already: two were incredibly dirty — which told her everything she needed to know about the people living there; another had a single bathroom shared between four people, and the last had a creepy guy across the hall. The floor to ceiling windows alone in Klaus' living room would've sold her the place, and paying next to nothing? It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. The conversation with him had been rather nice, if she was honest, and he was Rebekah's brother, so if anything went crazy, she knew exactly who to call.

For the first so many months, the Klaus-is-never-home story was very true. After a while he started inviting her to tag along to some of his events, which she did in a few occasions, especially after he learned she could not say no to puppy eyes. "These people will bore me to death, love, please, save me." Klaus can be such a dramatic baby. The parties were great and the vernissages fancy as hell, but she didn't complain. Going out with him was fun. They got along well, the booze was always A level and Klaus enjoyed taking his time to explain stuff to her. Living with him, she got to learn more about artistic movements than in all her life before. It's more interesting than she ever gave it credit. Or Klaus made it seem so, anyway. The accent kind of goes a long way.

What Caroline came to learn about him after a few months, however, was that not everything was rainbows and unicorns for Klaus as it seemed at first glance. Nothing threw him off quite like his family. He only ever spoke about Rebekah, the only sibling who lived closed by and stopped for visits, even more so than usual after Caroline moved in. She did overhear him on the phone with Elijah a few times, too. The other three, though, Freya, Finn and Kol, Caroline only knew about through Rebekah.

"Nik doesn't get along with our siblings," Rebekah told her when she asked why he never spoke of the rest of the family. "I don't blame him. I don't know what mother nature was thinking when it gathered us all under the same genetic code, we're far too screwed up to be all in the same Thanksgiving dinner."

That was an understatement, in Caroline's opinion. Whenever Klaus went back to England to visit his parents and the rest of his siblings —- something he avoided like the plague but was apparently forced to do — he came back sullen and with a temper from hell. His sour moods could last for weeks. He'd stay locked up in his bedroom or at the studio for days on end, making Caroline slightly guilty for thinking she was the thing keeping him from circulating around his own place.

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped at her once when she suggested she could move out if he'd changed his mind. "If you move out, I will hunt you down and drag you back here."

It was perhaps slightly too aggressive an answer to be sweet, but Caroline gathers that was Klaus' way of saying he didn't want her to go.

She stayed and learned how to navigate the storms caused by his occasional family reunions. Let him do his thing, don't ask about his parents, offer him food from time to time. They make do. But it still bothers her to no end. Like right now.

It's been a month since he came back from London, more upset than necessarily angry, and he has barely set foot out of the apartment. He stays in his sweatpants and ink-stained Marc Jacobs shirts all day, wavering between having too much coffee and too much whiskey. He hasn't even been painting, which points to an all-time low.

When she walks out of her room all dressed up, putting on her earrings, he's sitting in front of the television, flipping through channels nonstop. His eyes are so unfocused she doubts he even knows what he's doing, his finger just pressing the button mindlessly.

Caroline checks her wristwatch and sighs. Bonnie is gonna be furious if she's late, but Klaus sitting on his ass like that is a waste of a perfectly fine eligible bachelor.

"What are you doing tonight?" she asks.

"Watching a movie," he says flatly after a moment, the information that he'd been spoken to taking a second to register in his brain.

"You mean porn."

He turns his face to her, eyebrows lazily arched. "If you want specifics. I'd ask you to join me, but people are already talking."

She gives him a look and then bends forward, fixing the straps of her high-heeled sandals. "Don't you get tired?"

"Who gets tired of porn?"

"Of watching porn?" He just shrugs. "Men," she puffs out with an eye roll. "Come out with me tonight. I'm going speed dating."

"That's so very boomer of you. It reeks of despair."

"It's old school, so what?" she counters, checking herself out on the antique floor length mirror. She turns to one side, then the other, tosses her hair back. "Is this cleavage too slutty? I don't want to look too slutty."

"What are you aiming for? Moderately promiscuous?"

She turns to him. "I want to say hot but with class, not I have nicknames for my boobs."

He snorts. "You look stunning, sweetheart," he says, his eyes lingering perhaps a bit too long on her décolletage.

"Thanks," she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest, suddenly self-conscious. "Back to the subject."

He sighs, turning back to the television. "Haven't they invented an app for that?"

"I'm tired of apps. It's cold, photos are almost never consistent with the truth and when you ask for a real-time one, all you get is dick pics."

"I hate to disappoint, but you're fooling yourself if you think men won't lie to your face, too."

"You can't blame me for wanting to stay hopeful that men aren't all as cynical as you. I'd have to give up sex forever if I thought that."

Klaus' lips quirk into a lopsided grin. "Well, I wish you good luck on your endeavor."

"I think you need to meet somebody, too," she insists. "You're turning into a couch potato, Klaus."

"I refute that."

"When was the last time you had a date?"

"I don't do dates."

Caroline rolls her eyes again. She has never seen him with the same girl twice, and very few have actually made it to his apartment. Mostly, he's the one who spends the night, not the other way around. He laughed at her face when she tried to tell him he didn't have to worry about bringing friends over on her account. "That's sweet, love, but I don't bring people over unless I have no other option."

"Why not?"

"Because when they know where I live it's harder to get rid of them. Besides, it's such a bore when they decide not to leave in the morning. Women can be rather spiteful."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are so full of crap. Typical. Sweet-talk women into sleeping with you and then call them crazy when they expect a minimum of respect in return."

"I respect them fine; I just don't want to have breakfast."

"Because that is such a commitment."

"It's far more than I'm willing to commit, yes."

"We have breakfast all the time. What, am I special?"

He simply smiled, the annoying dimples he uses to lure women into bed cutting into his cheeks.

"Fine," she says, stomping her foot. "Your last one-night stand?"

"Should I be flattered you're keeping such close tabs on my life?"

"See? You're becoming this insufferable creature that I can barely tolerate that answers everything with sarcasm. Soon enough, I'm gonna have to move out and I don't want to because I like this apartment."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Come out with me. This way you get to meet twenty somebodies at once."

"Is that why you're going?"

"Last two dates I had were exclusive two hours of complete disaster I will never get back. At least this way I speed up the process of elimination."

"Over five-minute conversations," he derides.

"Five minutes is more than enough time. If they can't impress me or at the very least make me intrigued, then they're definitely not worth a second date."

"You make it sound oh-so-alluring. Like a meat market."

"Klaus," she says, slowly, planting herself between him and the random Discovery Channel show on the TV. "It's dozens of women literally just waiting to be hit on. Your odds at a happy ending are much better than if stay home and watch porn."

He regards for a beat and then sighs in defeat. "How can I say no when you make me out to be a wanker if I refute your argument?"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You brought a date?!" Bonnie cries out with indignation when Caroline arrives at the bar with Klaus on tow.

She considered giving her friend a heads up that he'd be tagging along, but she knows what Bonnie would say. She has been saying it for a while, any opportunity she gets. Just make a move already, Caroline! Fuck the guy's brains out and get over it or stop talking about Klaus all the goddamn time.

The fact she's brought him out to meet other people should probably tell Bonnie that she does not want to bang her roommate. Not that she wouldn't, because Klaus is obviously, you know... Alluring. Annoying, sure, prone to mood swings, but also witty and smart and refined and incredibly attentive when it comes to her, not to mention the whole exterior package thing. But they live together, she's friends with his sister, and it would be a totally stupid idea to ruin it with casual sex. Caroline sweeps the whole tension under the rug and keeps Klaus firmly on the realm of healthy, platonic friendship. But Bonnie would've found a way to claim otherwise if she'd said he was coming.

"He's not a date," she counters. "He's a dater."

Bonnie gives Klaus a pointed look. "Blink once if you were coerced into being here."

Klaus makes an effort of blinking, and Caroline gapes in protest. "I did not coerce you. Our couch has a permanent imprint of Klaus' ass. He needed to dive back into the pool. I'm just being helpful."

"I'm here for the drinks, mostly," he offers.

"Well, you just ruined these poor men's lives," Bonnie says, bobbing her head towards the line of guys standing around them, waiting for the thing to start.

She hadn't really noticed, but they're all staring at them. Not at her, or at Bonnie, but at Klaus, with looks that go from mildly concerned to openly hostile.

"Tough luck," she says with a light shrug. "Look on the bright side. They're gonna be forced to bring out their A game."

"Ahh," Bonnie says, smiling at last. "I see your plan now. That’s actually smart."

"What the bloody hell are you two babbling about?" Klaus asks.

Caroline cocks him a disbelieved eyebrow. "Seriously? You can't tell?"

"Look around, Klaus," Bonnie says. "All the girls are checking you out."

"Not uncommon," he replies matter-of-factly.

"And the guys are shooting daggers at you," Caroline adds.

He purses his lips. "Also not uncommon."

"Exactly. This is competition."

"It's not a beauty pageant, love."

"Life is a beauty pageant," she retorts solemnly.

"Let's put it this way," Bonnie cuts in. "Little girls who kiss frogs expect them to turn into you."

Klaus puffs out a laugh. "Why, thank you, Bonnie, for the rather flattering image. But I don't think I'm that good looking."

"Now you're just playing dumb, which is not sexy, by the way."

He turns to Caroline, cocking his eyebrows in doubt. "Yes, you are, Klaus." A sly smirk breaks onto his lips, and she realizes he'd just set her up into singing his praise. Before he can follow up with a snarky and probably inappropriate remark, she slaps his arm lightly. "Oh, shut up."

"I bet you'll walk out of here with everyone's phone numbers," Bonnie says.

"Except for ours, of course," Caroline adds.

"Why not yours?" he asks, somewhat offended.

"You already have my number."

"Not in this context."

"Yes, because I already know you and all the nasty little bits of your personality. These women, on the other hand, don't."

"So you're attributing every relationship I've ever had to my looks?"

"I thought you didn't do relationships."

"Not normally."

"Well, not the whole relationship," she muses. "Just the beginning."

"The rest are the dimples," Bonnie remarks with a serious nod.

Klaus shakes his head despondently. "And here I was thinking women aren't as vain as men."

Caroline turns to him, putting her hand out. "Wanna bet? You can't tell anyone you're a trust fund kid who runs an art gallery. You're unemployed. Don't pay attention to everything they say, pretend to be distracted. And lose the accent. One hundred bucks says you walk out of here with at least… Twenty names. And I'm being conservative."

Klaus narrows his eyes at her. "You brought me out here to get laid and now you want me to jeopardize my chances?"

"On the contraire. I'm saying you can make yourself out to be as interested as you really are, and still get laid."

He finally takes her hand on a firm shake. "You're on."

A gong rings and they all turn to see a woman with a bright smile beckoning them all to approach. "Ladies and gentlemen," she starts. "The fun is about to start. Ladies, please, take your seats. There's a table for each of you. When I strike this gong, each man should sit at the first table they've been assigned to. When I strike it again, date's over, move on to the next."

"Wish me good luck, then," Klaus tells her as they turn around to order a drink from the bar before moving to their respective spots.

"You won't need it, buddy."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Hello, sweetheart," Klaus says pleasantly as he slides into the seat across from her.

Caroline lets out a weary exhale. "Hi, number..." she reads the tag on his chest. "26. What do you prefer, a weekend on the mountains or long walks on the beach?"

"Mountain, easy. Too much sand on the beach, it gets in all sorts of awkward places."

Caroline snorts into her martini. "That's actually the best answer I've had to this question so far. Or to any question, really." She raises her glass on a toast. "How's it going?"

He purses his lips. "I've had to answer that question unironically more than once, so I'd say not stellar."

"I'm sorry," she says around a chuckle.

"You don't look sorry."

"Because I'm not, really. It would be unfair for me to suffer alone. Seen anyone you like, at least?"

The smile on his face turns mysterious. "There's one so far."

"Just one?"

"It's hard to speed date when you're pretending to be slow, uninteresting and American, to be honest."

"You could just tell them the truth. That you were dragged here by a friend who took pity on you sitting around, watching porn all day. That would sure scare some of them away. Although some would probably ask what kind of porn."

"What about you?"

"I don't want to know what kind of porn you watch."

He rolls her eyes at her. "I mean, how's your night going?"

"Oh, you know," she shrugs with a lot less enthusiasm than she'd expected to have by this point in the evening. "A couple of contenders, I guess."

"Oh?"

"Still early."

"Forgive me for pointing it out, but you don't seem particularly excited."

She puffs out in frustration. "Every time I tell them I'm a Med student, they ask what kind of doctor I want to be, and when I say oncologist, they start listing every member of their family who's ever died of cancer. What am I supposed to say after a guy tells me his mother died of breast cancer? I'm sorry, would you like to talk about it?" Caroline glares when he erupts into laughter. "Not funny."

"I'm sorry, it's just that sounds like an awfully interesting conversation."

"Why is dating so hard? Am I too picky? Is it wanting a meet-cute too much? To wake up one day and ta-dam, the guy is there, right in front of me."

Something about Klaus' eyes soften just then. "If only it were that easy," he says, an almost wistful tone to his voice that gives Caroline pause.

Before she can dwell on it further, however, the gong sounds and it's time to move on.

"Here I go, then," he says in his American accent.

When her next prospect sits down, she's laughing at Klaus greeting the woman on the next table with a Hey, babe.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Here's to making the 1% 100 dollars poorer," Caroline says, raising her shot in the air before knocking it back.

"Cheers, I suppose," Klaus says dully, sipping from his bourbon.

"Oh, come on!" She bumps her shoulder against his as they sit side by side by the bar. "Don't look so gloomy. That's literally a pile of women in front of you," she says, nodding her head towards the cards sitting on the counter. "How many again?"

"Twenty nine," he grumbles.

"Twenty nine out of 40! That's more phone numbers than most guys will get in a year. Be proud."

"Of my deep cobalt eyes or my sultry lips? Yes, I heard both tonight."

Now it's Caroline's turn to explode into laughter while he just shakes his head helplessly.

"You don't have to be ashamed of your genetics, Klaus," she says. "It's not your fault some women are awkward flirters."

"Tell that to my stepfather." His tone visibly changes as he mentions Mikael, the dark clouds coming back to hover above his head.

Before it can get any worse, Caroline prods on. "So. How many of them are you going to call?"

"None."

"None?!" she gapes. "That's at least a month of guaranteed sex. A month where you won't have to watch porn, you can actually perform porn."

"Alright, you're making me sound like a deranged pervert," he objects. "I do not watch that much porn. That was one time and it is not my fault you lack proper etiquette when walking into someone else's bedroom."

Caroline chuckles. She did walk in without knocking, but, in her defense, it was 3 o'clock. What kind of person watches porn in the middle of the afternoon? She was blushing furiously for weeks before she decided to start teasing him instead as a way to diffuse the guilt. Luckily, he hadn't actually been doing... Anything. Although she did notice the suspicious volume in his pants. It was... Interesting.

"It's nice to make fun of you, though," she says. "That was the closest to a blush I've ever seen on your face."

"Whatever makes you happy, love."

"Seriously, though. Why are you not calling any of them?"

"These women think I'm one step away from being a caveman. It says more about them than it says about me that they're willing to give me their phone numbers."

She scoffs. "Don't be such a snob. They came here to get laid, too. You can't tell me you didn't like any of them."

"Well, there was one. But she didn't slip me her phone number."

Caroline' eyebrows crinkle together. "Really? That's kinda hard to believe."

"I guess your theory was flawed, after all."

"But it has been proved nonetheless. Which reminds me..." She lifts a hand, asking for another round. "I'm gonna drink all your money."

"My whole life has been a lie," Klaus says contemplatively. "I thought I had an enthralling personality, an interesting aura, that my wittiness made me charming, and now I find out I'm nothing but a pretty face."

"To be honest, you're also an endless pit of money." Klaus gives her a side eye, knocking back his drink. Caroline scrunches up her face in mock-pity. "Oh, boo-hoo. It's so hard to be handsome. Why are you so upset about that?"

"It's different when that is all you are. I've been deluding myself."

"Who said that's all you are?" Klaus turns to her with a pointed look. "No, that's not what I said. I said women would want to date you after five minutes because you're pretty, not that pretty is all you are." When he sighs, asking for another drink, still obviously unconvinced, she continues. "Look. My first real boyfriend was a total douchebag. He came across as funny and charming and thoughtful, but it was an act. He saw something he wanted and he knew he had to act a certain way to get it, because even at 17, I liked to think I had standards, even though I clearly didn't."

"Are you saying I'm also manipulative?"

"I'm saying, figuring out who people really are takes time. It takes twice as long if they're trying to impress you. You can take from this that all your relationships have been superficial and physical only, or you can believe that people came for the appeal and stayed for the content."

"Except no one has stayed. My temper seems to have a rather short expiration date, it drives people away. Just ask my brother." He punctuates his sentence with a wan smile, and Caroline understands, at last, that this is all somehow related to his family again.

She suddenly finds herself desperately at loss for what to say. Rebekah would offer something outrageous and mildly offensive that would still hit the nail on the head. Caroline just wanted him to have some fun, but instead she ended up pushing him right back to his bad place.

She considers apologizing, saying it was just teasing and she never really meant it, but what she winds up saying, however, is, "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Klaus looks up at her, a mix of surprise and something else she can't identify flickering through his eyes.

"Is that how you rationalize your relationships?" he asks.

She huffs out a little laugh. "I don't think that highly of myself. I'm a tall, long-legged blonde. That ticks some boxes, but it hardly makes me irresistible."

"I beg to differ, love. You're an exquisite beauty."

Caroline laughs a little, thinking he's obviously saying that just to be nice, but then she catches the look in his eyes, that intensity that always seems to rattle something deep inside of her. There's not a hint of condescension about him.

"I... Well..." she stammers, her cheeks burning hot. "Thank you."

"But that's not all you are. You're also strong, fierce, full of light. Anyone who fails to see what's underneath your stunning exterior is a fool." Caroline freezes under his stare, something almost reverent in the way he says it, a spark lighting up his face for maybe the first time in a month. It sends Caroline's pulse racing. She's suddenly very much aware of how close they are, the air around them simmering with energy, releasing a fresh batch of butterflies in her stomach. The room is a dozen degrees hotter than a second before, and Caroline doesn't know what to do, what not to do, thinks maybe she's had enough to drink already because her sense of reason is getting all fuzzy.

And then Klaus says, "I heard that on PornTube," and the tension eases off of her as the two of them crack up laughing together.

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fic #kcbingo2020 #kc fic #kcfic #klarolinefic #kc fandom #klaus x caroline #yokan writes #fluff apparently

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strange-changes-ln · 3 years

Text

“Strange Changes.”

Chapter Three: “Late At Night.”

Pacing. Holding his head, his mind racing. This is- this is IMPOSSIBLE. He has to be dreaming, he- he COULDN’T SEE after the incident, they- they RIPPED his eyes out! How was this happening-??

He had abruptly shut the television off and exited the room as fast as possible. Left the poor kid hanging.

That- That doesn’t matter. He kept trying methods to try and wake himself up. C’mon, Roger, stop dreaming! That- that kid might’ve been apart of this dream too…

Wake up.

WAKE UP.

You AREN’T able- or even supposed to see, this isn’t real! This is NOT REAL. Snap out of it, you-

He swerves into a bookshelf, unconsciously. Books, small items fell from the wooden holders. He backed away, blinking. He immediately went to the other side, and started to pick up all of the things that had fallen. He…paused to eye a book. It was…he can’t remember what it was about. It was dusty. A maroon, hard-covered, dusty book. Before- carefully settling it back with everything else. He rubs his eyes, what- what’s going ON..

..Is- Is this not a dream?? Is- this actually happening..? He can…he can see…

..He quietly laughed, smiling a tiny bit. Despite the immense confusion, he was… he missed this for so long…

aH- NO. No. He shook his head, that tiny bit of bliss snapping away. This isn’t logical, this isn’t normal- then again…nothing is- b-but THIS-

His chest expanded, and shrank back as he breathed at a quick pace. He turned to exit the room, his thoughts still spiraling along in his mind. Okay- this isn’t a dream, this isn’t a dream.

This…isn’t… a dream.

…

He- won’t focus on that for now. Despite it being both a miracle, and a bug in nature, he’ll just- try and remember what he had to. Think..

He could go check on the children. Yeah.. that’ll work.

. . .

Shoot. He’s getting the feeling he’s being watched again. Just- Just ignore it, Roger. It’s fine. It’s nothing. It’s fine. It’s alright. You’re being paranoid.

. . . He- hopes so at least.

It had been at least half an hour, and he STILL felt as if he was being- WATCHED. He kept looking around, actually trying to see what could possibly have been watching him, but there was nothing. It wasn’t as weird when he was around the kids, as they kind of eyed him once he had taken a bit of care of them- but even THEN, the feeling wouldn’t go away. He turned around, nothing. How long was this going keep up? It couldn’t keep going forever.

. . .

That’s what he thought until another few hours past, and he still, felt it. It’s getting darker, and darker by now. He- still needs to get things done, he still hasn’t- UGH! He audibly groaned into his hands. He’s- he’s just gonna have to wait until tomorrow. God, the boat’s gonna be here soon, and sure he’s- semi prepared, but semi isn’t enough!

..No— no, this can’t wait until tomorrow.

But- sure it can! He can just- get up early, and-

N-No— he has to do it now. At least some of it. It’s the least he can possibly do right now.

But it’s getting late, and he’s gonna need that energy for tomorrow.

..Why is he so torn?? Just pick the sensible option and go with that!

…

He swears, he’s gonna drive himself temporarily mad if he keeps going like this. He huffs, okay. He’ll come to a compromise with himself; he’ll send a few packages up where he needed to take them, and…and the rest can wait for another day.

..Yeah. That sits with him well. He remembers he had left those packages in his little living quarters. In the corner. He’ll go get them.

Walking along, rubbing one of his eyes with a hand. He’s- still so bewildered by this- sight. He can see again!

But..But how? It’s not like blind people getting their sight back is a normal thing, especially if they got their own eyes ripped out of their head.

That was… bad. It hurt. It hurt a lot. It’s not like they cared.

…

Actually let’s not think about that anymore!!!

It’s not worth even mentioning at all anyways, heheheh-

Heh…

…

He blanks out. So much so, that his unaware self bumped into his own door on accident. He stumbled back. Ow.

You know what? Whatever, it’s fine. He’s over it. He twists the knob on the door, and pushes it open. Ah yes, his room. His solitude. It’s wonderful. In the far, right corner, he sees-

Aha! The packages. Just where they were. Perfect. He goes over, and takes them into his arms. This is fine.

Totally.

Just leaving out of his room, beginning to head to where he was supposed to take them. Most of them were for the Kitchen, but… there’s one. A small box.

For the Lady.

He doesn’t know what it’s for, but- it was kind of out of nowhere. Nobody knows why it was sent, but…geez, he doesn’t think he should said this one to her right now. Especially when it’s rather dark outside by now.

That’s just- eugh. He doesn’t wanna risk it, but at the same time— maybe to get it out of the way, he can check..?

The thought makes him kind of nervous, but- he might…as well? Hm.

Over time, he went through elevator by elevator, until he made it up to the Kitchen. He begins towards the work-premises of the Chefs, humming the ‘Veronica’ song a bit. Surprisingly— he spotted Marcus. He was still working. Huh. He kind of expected to not see him, but- here they are.

” Hey, uh- Marc. “ Roger waved, squinting just a bit. Having not seen in…a while, the bright light of the Kitchen was…jarring. The chef paused, and turned towards the entering employee. He blinked.

“ ..Roger? What’re you doing here?- “ He stops what he’s doing all together, and approaches the shorter man. He…seems to look confused, upon getting a closer look at him. “ ..Jesus, what happened to your eyes? They’re just- gone. “ He sounded concerned. Wait—oh- uh- he- forgot about that. Uh, shoot.

” ..Uhh… yeah, something, um-uh— happened one time, when I was younger, and- y-y’know how some people are, eheheh- ah- “ He did not like talking about the empty, black sockets he once- and sort of now considers his eyes. “ Some people got together, and uh…d-did a number on me. Now, I- don’t have any eyes, ha! “ Trying to laugh it off as much as it makes him uncomfortable.

Marcus… narrowed his eyes, he didn’t get why he was laughing this off. “ ..Who? “

” ..u-uh…w-what..? “ The awkward toned worker glanced to the side, though it would’ve been hard to tell to someone else, since, he…doesn’t have pupils. Christ, why didn’t he pull the skin back down earlier??? Marcus, just take the damn packages and don’t make me stand here and stumble on my words like an idiot about this.

“ Who did that to you? They sound like jerks. “ The chef interrogated. Roger…simply stammered, why was this a conversation they were having.

“ Ahhh—w-well- it was a long time ago, I-I don’t know even know what they look like right now, I was pretty young.. w-when that happened, heh- uh— just a group of citizens who didn’t enjoy my existence and- uh- a-and decided to take it out on me! B-But it’s nothing, it’s fine, it’s in the past now, we don’t have to keep going on about it, it’s just a waste of time, c-can you just take th-the packages so I can go, this is really taking up the night, and we both gotta-um- get some rest!-Ahahaaha- “

“ Roger, for the love of god, slow down. Jeez, what’s making you so jumpy?? “ Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose.

The Janitor- looked down, at this point, embarrassed.

“ ..Sorry- I- don’t like talking about this stuff, Y’know..? “ Looking to the side, he holds out the packages. “ Just- take these already, okay? I forgot to give them to you before. “

Marcus.. casually took them from his co-worker’s grasp. “ Right. What made you forget, exactly? These were supposed to be sent to me ages ago, man! “ He frowned, glaring at Roger.

” ..fell asleep. Was watching tv. Met— “ He stopped himself at ‘met.’ Nono, he didn’t need to know about Mono. But the Chef had already caught it, and asked-

“ ..Met who? “

…Of course he had to catch it, Roger thought.

” ..nobody. Nobody important. “ This is getting ridiculous, the longer they stand here, the less things get done, and the less things they get done, the less prepared they’ll be when the boat arrives, and if they aren’t all-the-way prepared, something is bound to go wrong, and the Lady’s gonna have their heads.

“ ..Somebody, Roger. Did someone else get into the damn ship somehow? Are they still roaming, did you- “

” I said it was nobody important. “ The Janitor huffed. Eyeing the pile of packages.

“ ..Alright, sheesh. “ Marcus rolled his eyes and started walking away, off to the second intersecting room. The former blind man blanked out for a second, before snapping back into awareness, blinking. Wait. Did he-

He left the smaller package on the pile, oh my god-

“ -Hey- wait up! “ He quickly followed behind. He’s so scattershot right now, it’s unbelievable.

” -What?? You’re halting time here. “ Marcus puffed, turning around and beginning to stare his co-worker down.

“ Wh— “ Roger was going to protest, but he just brushed it off. “ Okay-sure-whatever- I need this. “ Snatching the smaller box from atop the pile. “ ..Uhh.. where’s your brother? “

” Thomas? He’s asleep, I told him I could take over. And.. is that the- “

” Yeah. The package for the Lady. I- I don’t know if I should go now, or wait… “ He still contemplated. He thought he was going to bring it to her tonight but… he’s hesitant. The older Chef sucked a breath through his teeth. Just saying-

“ ..I’m not gonna lie, Roger; you might just wanna wait. “

“ I know, but— maybe I can just get it out of the way real fast. “

“ But do you realize that could probably actually be a bad idea. “

“ I- uh-huh, yeah— I dunno. “

…

There’s an awkward silence for a moment. They both glanced at each other, and at the ground every few seconds. Marcus had his face all scrunched up in thought. Were people outside the Maw really that bad?? He and Thomas don’t even know, or remember what it’s like out there. They’ve only known this place most of their lives. But Roger…definitely seemed to have it a different way than from he and his brother. He’s lived outside before, for more of his life. And.. that happened. The eyeballs-being-gone thing.

Sheesh.

Meanwhile Roger had a point blank expression. He didn’t know what he was even thinking. Everything’s tangled up. Scrambled. There’s not much to say.

” … “

“ ..should I go send it up now, or.. “

“ —Ugh. You do what you want, I guess. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. “ Marcus once again rolled his eyes.

Mhm. Right. Roger scooted around him, and head off. Is he seriously doing this? Should he turn around?? He’s already going forward. But he’s not too far, he just left! He can just-

..Y’know what? No. He’s- he’s just gonna do it. Get it done, out of the way, never gonna do again. Possibly.

…He’s curious, anyways.

#ao3 fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #roger the janitor #little nightmares oc #little nightmares chefs #little nightmares #Strange Changes

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silvia7272 · 4 years

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8 ~ The Blog-Off

I thought it would be time to meet some of the secondary characters I haven’t introduced yet. Also, I think this might be the third to last one before Piper is introduced to the gang? Maybe, just soon, I hope. And I think it’ll feel like a massive info dump but oh well, I wanted more people than just the class.

Also, I want to give these characters some actual personality traits, hope you like them.

Since I’ve made it that Timetagger isn’t canon in my storyline then I’ll have to add that Alix’s watch is just a unique watch and not a Miraculous since she’s a part of the class salt. Hopefully, that makes sense. Also, the episode Feast hasn’t happened either.

Word Count: 5698

Tags: @queenmj10, @fangirl39, @animegirlweeb, @northernbluetongue, @maribat-is-lifeblood, @raisuke06, @indecisive-mess-named-me @luleck, @themotherofhogwarts, if you wish to be tagged all you have to do is say. Also, if you change your name please tell me, I don’t want to leave you out since you’ve asked to be tagged.

Ok, so I just checked on the fanon website information for Miraculous Ladybug and it says Juleka and Alix are 15, how? And why couldn’t they just make it simple so they’re all 13 at the start? I really don’t get it, could someone explain it to me, it just seems so odd to only have 2 people at different ages, (Just saw that Kagami is 15 as well)? For now, they first became heroes at 13, Adrien 14 because his birthday was in the bubbler. Including those 3 cause it makes more sense, because if Juleka really is 15 it's said that Luka is 2 years older than her so that means he’s 17 and that makes me extremely iffy about him liking a 13-year-old Marinette. Yikes, I like Luka leave him alone damn it.

So, the second year of Miraculous Ladybug, they’re all 14-15.

***

It was a particularly sunny day at Collège Françoise Dupont. There hadn’t been any Akuma’s for a while. Leaving everyone a chance to relax.

Well, most could relax.

“Aurore I’m sure its fine, you don’t need to stress so much” Her friend Mireille tried to calm her friend down to no avail. She was still staring at her phone.

“Y-Yeah cheer up. It's only been a day. Maybe people just haven’t l-looked under that tag yet?” But that response only made the blonde glare.

“How could they not. Its an actual Akuma battle I was able to get hold of and nothing? Unbelievable!” The video itself was of the Akuma SleepSis, Aurore was able to get some footage, shaky, but she was able to upload that battle.

Unluckily for her, it seemed that no one was interested but a few people. She couldn’t understand, it had Ladybug and Chat Noir as well as that new hero everyone wanted to know. But because she was new no one paid any attention to it.

“Hey, it's only the first video. Maybe if you make more people will see you.” Mireille suggested, she didn’t want to see her friend upset, they had started to become closer after their rocky start and she didn’t want her to be Akumatized because of this.

“It's so not fair, my video is the latest Akuma fight and nothing has come of it, meanwhile little miss blogger gets all the attention and she hardly does any posts about Akuma’s anymore, it's all about this Lila girl, who by the way is completely fake. Nothing on Akuma’s, more about Ladybug’s love life, why should we give a damn about that-” And here we had a completely wild Aurore, she was ranting while her friends were trying to calm her down. Marc already knew Lila was lying when Marinette told him after… Certain events happened. And Mireille was a good friend, believing Marc and Aurore right away, they had come at separate times and besides, after hearing the girl, all Mireille could see was fakery everywhere.

“Excuse me? Can we sit here?” A voice spoke, breaking the three out of their conversation.

“Huh? Marinette! How are you?” Aurore stood to hug the bluenette who was overjoyed with the fact they saw each other again. Their class schedules were so spread out, this had been the first time, before Rosina joined in fact, that she could see them.

And boy did they change.

“Err Marinette I don’t want to tell you this but Chloé is behind you, extremely close behind you” She pointed to the blonde who didn’t seem amused at all.

“Geez blondie, don’t talk about someone who’s in-ear reach!”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so close to us you wouldn’t hear!” They glared at each other so hard you could see the literal spark in their eyes.

This was going to be a long day.

***

“Sooo you two are friends now?” Mireille concluded after hearing this whole story.

“I find that extremely hard to believe” Aurore spoke, her eyes still not breaking away from Chloé.

“Well, no one's forcing you!” She retaliated.

“Eheh… So where is this miracle worker?” Marc but in, he found it better that Chloé was trying to mend her old ways, and try to redeem herself. It seemed to be working at least, she wasn’t insulting everyone at the table, only Aurore.

“She said she was coming later, she wanted to go explore something” Marinette explained, oblivious of Chloé’s horrified expression.

“And you let her!? You know she needs to be kept in check, what if she’s halfway across Paris by no-” Arms appeared around the girl's shoulders.

“Mari! Chlo! Hiya” It said.

“Ahhh! Don’t scare me like that!” Chloé hit her head, she was too surprised to realise who it was, but she wasn’t sorry, no one should scare someone and expect nothing to happen to them.

“Hey, no fair, it was only as they say a jest” Marinette held an embarrassed smile. Taking Rosina’s arm as they sat down at the table.

“Anyway Rosina, these are the friends I was talking about. Aurore, Mireille and Marc” She pointed to them as Rosina excitedly waved.

“H-Hi-” Marc couldn’t finish that sentence.

“Wow, I love your pigtails they look so cool. Aww, you look so cute in that outfit, like a cute little panda. Wow, I love your t-shirt I so want one for myself.” They all seemed confused. Why was this girl flattering them?

“Don’t worry she does that to everyone,” Marinette clarified.

“Yep, I read if you want to make a good impression you must compliment to provide a friendship with them, now that we’re friends what should we do?” She smiled an enormously large smile, she looked cute and happy, like they could feel the positivity radiating of the girl.

“You’ll get used to this as well, she’s always this happy.”

It was silent after that. No one really seemed to talk, because there was still a big elephant in the room. And it was all pointing to a specific blonde.

“Ugh fine I get it. I’ll go and leave you all in peace” Chloé got up and started to walk away. But two hands pulled her back.

“Wait Chloé it's fine. You seem like you’re really trying so I’ll give you a second chance.” Mireille said.

“Mmhmm, yeah Chloé you’re getting so much better, she even got me a phone” She held it up, her charm still intact, she wanted to take good care of it.

“Wow really?” Marc was surprised, Chloé actually gave someone a present? Was she an imposter? No, it didn’t seem like an Akuma.

“Yeah wanna see?” The redhead excitedly showed off her first-ever phone to the boy. Even explaining things Marc knew but didn’t have the heart to tell her.

“Mhmm buying your way into friendship now?” Aurore so wasn’t convinced at all; sure, people could change but she wasn’t about to forgive Chloé after all the years of her bullying her.

“For your information, Rosina was in need of a phone because she’s never had one. So, it was a gift” She retorted, arms crossed as Marinette put her hand to her forehead. Her and Mireille had given up trying to hold them back, it was obvious they weren’t going to like each other, it might take more time for them to get along.

“As if I’ll fall for that trick. I’ll see you crack under the pressure real soon Chloé Bourgeois.” She huffed as her head turned, refusing to look at her anymore.

“Whatever Aurore Beauréal” The other four were paying attention to Rosina as she was showing all her new apps.

“Err, R-Rosina I can’t understand any of it, what language is it in?” It wasn’t in French that was for sure.

“See see, since I’m still getting used to the French, so I’ve put it in Arabic since it's easier, that way whenever I text my friends they won’t get confused if I get anything wrong.” She gleamed as she put it back in her bag.

“It's fine Rosy, we can help you just tell us ok?”

They continued to talk as they had 1 hour of a free period left. And a previous topic came back to relevance.

“So, you’re a blogger as well?” Rosina was told what a blogger was after Alya overheard her uncertainty. She was dragged off by the girl as she explained. She showed all of her videos to her. Rosina was amazed by the fact one could capture motion and replay it. She had heard about a blog before but had yet to see it. Chloé and Marinette were able to steal her away after causing a distraction.

“A beginner, I was kinda inspired by Alya’s, but it slowly derailed into fake news, so I wanted to make one myself, for Ladybug. She’s been amazing for us and she deserves to be respected. Not pry about her love life or identity” Marinette was beaming on the inside, finally, someone wanting facts and information, plus she knew Lila was bs anyway. She couldn’t be more relieved.

“But… No one seems to want to watch it” Her confidence wavered, Marinette felt dejected, how could she help her she wondered?

“Can we see it? I wanna see what it's about” Aurore beamed with joy, she happily showed her, watching for any change in the girl's faces.

But before the redhead could state her opinions, the blonde beat her to it.

“There's nothing special about it”

“What! H-” She held up her hand, she so wasn’t done.

“It looks like a video that Césaire girl could do, hell I could do that with my eyes closed. There isn’t anything special here” Aurore had enough, how dare she walk in here and disrespect her like this. The pigtailed girl was so close to being done.

“Chloé’s right”

“Rosina you can’t just say it like that!” Marinette was concerned, please don’t make her have to face off Stormy Weather again!

“No wait- I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry Aurore, I just think you can change it, that’s all” She frantically waved her hands around as Aurore blinked.

“Huh?”

“I just mean, Chloé is right that it does look like Alya’s, so maybe you can make different err- what's the word… Content yeah that. Make different content, like an analysis of Akuma, and their powers and weapons.” Marinette shot up, ideas filling her mind.

“Maybe you could interview the heroes about questions regarding Akuma’s? I know people would feel better having their queries answered.” Mireille then joined in.

“You could include tips on how to stay safe during an Akuma attack? That could be useful.”

“I-If you want a script to use, I could help with that?” Marc piped up.

“And since I’m feeling generous, I guess I could lend you some space to use for your videos. Anywhere else would be barbaric” Aurore would’ve glared at her, but she couldn’t make herself do that. They were all encouraging her to continue, to make it unique, to make it her own.

She smiled.

“Thanks, you guys. I’ll be sure to remember this. And you too Chloé” Said blonde smirked.

“What? Sorry I didn’t hear that” She became irritated.

“Chloé please stop teasing her, that’s not a very nice thing to do” Rosina grabbed onto her arm, trying to stop the inevitable argument.

“Ugh fine, it wasn’t any fun anyway” Now they felt shocked. Chloé willingly giving up her teasing? That was unheard of- maybe Rosina really was a good influence after all.

***

[This is great, love the special guests]

[Thanks so much for the advice!]

[Thank you, sweetie, I’m sharing this with everyone xxx]

Hundreds of comments like these appeared within minutes of her second video. Amazingly Ladybug had somehow heard of what Aurore wanted to do and brought Crisono along for the ride as well. Because it was a quiet night, they were able to gain so much information, and Aurore was able to stop fangirling and have a proper conversation with them. They got so many recordings done in a single night Aurore was able to go to sleep feeling peaceful.

Her second video consisted of self-defence demonstrated by Ladybug, it held a serious yet comedic approach as Ladybug demonstrated what would happen if someone, Akuma or not, attacked you using Crisono. Ladybug playing the hero while Crisono played the villain, and what a funny villain she was. It was a huge hit and the viewers wanted more, wanted to know more about Crisono.

Luckily her third video would consist of who exactly Crisono Tassa was? They knew she didn’t hold a Miraculous, so the mysteries surrounding her were endless.

She was so happy by the boost she couldn’t help her locking onto Rosina the minute she spotted her at school.

“Thank you thank you thank you! They love it, and Ladybug and Crisono came to help me. Rosina, you’re the best” Rosina could only pat the girl on her back as her limbs were constricted from moving.

“I didn’t do anything really. But I’m so glad you’re happy Aurore, I mean I know my acting wasn’t the best bu-”

“What?” Mireille asked, what acting was she talking about?

“In the v-” Marinette clamped a hand over the redhead's mouth.

“Well I think I heard the bell go, and you know how Mlle Bustier can be with tardiness so byeeee!” Once they were out of earshot of the three new friends Rosina had made Marinette gave a glare to Rosina.

“You can’t keep doing that?” Rosina tilted her head.

“Doing what?”

“Revealing your identity to people Rosina. It was fine with Marinette because she’s Ladybug, and there were circumstances with Chloé but you can’t do it with other people it can be really dangerous” Tikki came out lightly reprimand the girl, Tikki had long ago deemed Rosina safe to be around as well as hold a secret, and came to care for the girl just like Marinette, she only wanted to protect her.

“But it's fine, it doesn’t matter if people know it's me” She tried to reason. But the bluenette shook her head.

“Yes, it does Rosina. Your friends and family could get hurt if Hawkmoth ever finds out your identity. Please Rosy. Don’t reveal yourself to anyone else”

“But Mari, I only have you, Chloé, Kagami, Adrian, Chat, Aurore, Mireille and Marc as my friends” Marinette would’ve winced at the mention of the blonds but now wasn’t the time.

“Yes but-”

“Plus, I have no family, so he can’t use them to get to me”

“W-What?”

“I don’t have a family, I only have 8 people to protect, so that’s why I’ll strive to protect all of my friends.”

“B-But what about-”

Riiiiiiiiiiing

“Well class should be starting soon, c’mon Mari, we don’t want to be late ok” Before the bluenette could answer she was already being dragged off, she couldn’t stop her as the words went around in her head.

I don’t have a family

‘How can she say that so casually? And what about Franchezca, what about her?’

These questions whirled around the girl’s head so much she couldn’t pay that much attention to the lesson. Not like Bustier called on her. She was glad for that.

Maybe she could ask later?

***

“Rosina?”

“Yep,” A voice spoke, popping the ‘P’. They were walking around the city; they were meant to be meeting everyone as they had planned to all hang out later but Marinette was able to convince Rosina to go earlier. And Marinette felt it was a good enough time to ask Rosina what she meant beforehand.

“You said you don’t have any family to protect. But you also call Mlle Franchezca Aunt? So, if it’s not too much trouble, could you explain?” She stopped walking.

“I mean you only want- I mean, only if you want to. I don’t want to force you or anything” She really hoped she hadn’t offended her.

“Its fine Marinette, I just don’t know where to begin”

She placed her hand under her chin, looking to reminisce on something.

“Let’s see, how did Aunty say it again?”

In the middle of a desert, an older woman with a cane walked.

She was searching for that damn forth Trinklet and it was nowhere. But she needed to find it fast, if not then it would crack.

And she really didn’t want to spend any more time in this stupid desert than she had to.

But then she saw a glow.

‘Perfect’ She thought, making her way towards it, believing that would be the end of it.

But it was only the beginning.

As she came closer to the glow, she saw a bundle of blankets next to it. She was surprised about that discovery.

But that was nothing, because then she heard a cry.

“What the-?”

She rushed to the blanket, if it was what she thought it was then she had to move quickly.

And like she was able to predict… It was.

A baby.

“Who would leave a kid all the way out here?” Franchezca decided that she would try and find out who the baby belonged to. Of course, she wasn’t going to get attached to her.

No, of course not.

That would be absurd.

“She always blamed my smile was the reason she couldn’t give me up” Rosina had finished her story as Marinette stood there.

“So, you really don’t have any other family members?”

“Nope, I don’t know anyone related to me. And Aunty always told me to call her Aunty cause she didn’t want to be called Grandma.” She laughed as she remembered the embarrassed look she gave when the Silver-eyed girl said Grandma once.

“You were just… Left alone?”

“Yeah, she told me this poncho was the only thing I had on me. That’s why I wear it everywhere. But it's alright. Aunty took care of me for all that time, and then I got the chance to train to fight all the Trinklets in the world. It's great” She raised her arms in the air to exclaim she wasn’t even sad.

Swish.

“I didn’t know you wanted a hug, Mari?”

‘She doesn’t seem bothered at all; I want to feel sorry for her but… Should I?’

“You do have family”

“Mari I-” She was about to repeat herself but Marinette jumped to cut her off.

“You have me and Maman and Papa. We’re your family. All of our friends are family and your Aunt. That’s why you can’t reveal yourself to anyone” Rosina paused. She wasn’t expecting… That.

“Really?” It was barely audible but Marinette heard it. And it was so sincere.

“Yeah, so please promise me you’ll stop doing that”

“…Ok. But if I can’t transform in time you can’t blame me if anyone sees” She cheekily replied her usual self-returning.

“Fine, but that’s only if, ok?” She shot back; Rosina nodded before they continued on their walk. Apparently, there was someone she wanted Rosina to meet. All she knew was that he didn’t attend Collège Françoise Dupont.

***

“Rosina, this is Luka. Luka this is Rosina.” They had arrived at *Pont des Arts the meeting place Marinette had organised earlier, all of her friends arriving later gave Rosina enough time to get along with the newcomer, everyone else knew him, it was only fair if Rosina got some time too.

“Pleased to mee-”

“Wow, your hair looks so cool, were you born with it or did you dye it? Wait, are you by any chance related to Juleka? Wow you look so cool” She repeated as he stood back just a bit, he had predicted her melody to be calm and slightly childish, now it had just changed dramatically… He needed a moment to adjust.

“Sorry Luka, I should’ve warned you she was hyper.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, it’s good to see you so happy, Rosina seems to have drowned out that melancholy you had” That caused Marinette to blush before she looked back at Rosina. They continued to have a small conversation, at least before everyone else arrived anyway, although it did surprise Marinette when Luka kept looking around and checking his watch, was he waiting for someone? Was he just biding time before leaving them? Was it going to be his girlfri-

“Hayo, Luka long time no see? It’s been like sooo long” A girl who looked like the same age as Luka approached the gang of 3. And she looked so pretty.

She had green hair that complimented her dark skin, her orange jacket looked of high quality and red trousers, was this who Luka was waiting for? Was this his gir-?

“Noémie, it’s been a while, I should have asked before, but I was wondering if my friend could hang out with us?” Marinette was slightly put off, ever since the Lila situation she’s been ever so slightly apprehensive of new people, but she guessed since she’s a friend of Luka’s she would soon be a friend of hers.

“-Gasps- Luka is this the Marinette ya keep talking and gushing about? Oh, my life. She is the cutest little thing ever. Selfie child” Before Marinette could respond she’d already taken a selfie.

“You look even cuter on camera, oh stop ya gonna kill me smols” Noémie’s hand was then grabbed by someone else, it wasn’t forceful at all, but she did lookup.

“Hiya Miss, I just wanted to say that I love your green hairstyle, it looks super cool on you”

‘Is that a tear-’

“Oh my god these two smols are so like adorable, I’m officially adopting you two, my precious little babies.” Marinette would soon learn she would never be able to finish another thought around the green-haired girl. Ever again.

And adopting?

“Eheh no thanks, I have a Mother and one is more than enough” She tried to get out of the hold but couldn’t.

“What’s adopting?”

“I’ll… Tell you later” Mari sighed, this seemed to become a long day.

“I was going to tell you that she can be a bit extreme, but she beat me to it.” Luka sent an apologetic smile towards the two, more to the bluenette since Rosina seemed to be enjoying the affection. It wasn’t like Noémie was doing anything harmful, but he knew she could be a bit… Overbearing at times.

“Selfie time”

“But you just took one?”

“Like girl, ya can never have too many selfies with smols like ya. All these photos can stay online forever. All these memories we can have and keep and look back on is like sooooooo cool. Now say cheese!” her monologue was filled with so much passion for selfies Marinette was able to giggle.

Ok, she liked her, she seemed really quirky.

Whether it was luck or not the others arrived not too long after, unluckily Noémie tried to use that same trick on Chloé because she was apparently a fan of the Mayor’s Daughter…

Yeah, that didn’t turn out well.

But she got over it when they both started taking selfies.

To the extreme.

It was a selfie war at this point.

The 6 were put on edge, but they decided to stay with them, so it was their fault.

Although there was one thought a young blonde had since the day they met.

And it was starting to get to her. And considering they were at the mall anyway she could enact on her plan.

“Rosina let’s get you a new outfit. My treat” She had to try and slowly ease her into it. If not, it would sound mean, and she couldn’t possibly do that to the redhead.

But said redhead couldn’t reply before a new blonde nuisance had to but in.

“Why? What's the occasion Chloé, you wouldn’t happen to be buying more ‘gifts’ to keep your friends, would you? Or could it be that you simply don’t like Rosina’s fashion sense?” She wrapped her arms around the redhead, her new innocent friend who didn’t deserve to be tricked by anyone, even if she knew Chloé was trying to be better.

“Aurore” Mireille tried to ease the tension, but she knew it was to no avail.

“No, I just thought we could all go on a shopping spree. But of course, you wouldn’t know anything about fashion to begin with.” She shot back, two could play at that game and so far, she was winning.

“Chloé” Marinette was now trying to keep the piece as Luka squeezed her shoulder in support. He knew they were just teasing, and it was kinda fun to watch.

Marinette.exe has stopped working.

While everyone else was concerned over a passed out Marinette, Rosina started smiling. The two blondes grew confused before their hands were grabbed.

“Ok, let’s go shopping. I’ve never shopped for clothes before so let’s go” They were dragged off with a bouncing Noémie following as the others were preoccupied.

Chloé and Aurore both wanted to drag the girl off to separate stores but unfortunately, they found out if you start pulling on a person, it will eventually hurt. Marinette had to pry them off her before scolding the two, the others either laughing or taking photos, although I think you know who was taking photos, with the caption: new Mum of the group.

Rosina’s first pick from Chloé was a lovely white knee-length dress, black leggings and a light blue jacket. It seemed lovely before Aurore gave her own pick. A floral pattern navy blue dress with white leggings. Of course, the two bickered which one was better as Marinette gave her own pick. And she looked so cute.

A blue tank top with a matching skirt with a teal bodysuit underneath.

“Wow, this is so stretchy, look look I can do the splits in these.” That earned her a clap as she excitedly bounced up and down. And Chloé couldn’t help the feeling of happiness in her gut. It never happened before with Sabrina or Adrien, was it because she wasn’t just bossing them around?

Yeah, that might be it.

“Hey, I could probably sew something onto it to make it stand out if you want?”

“Really? That would be so cool Mari, thank you bestie?” They hugged before Mireille and Marc chose a new outfit as well.

Did she deserve this? After everything she’s done? Did she really deserve this?

Did she-?

“Hey, your friends are trying to help you Chloé, you are included blondie, don’t screw it up” She nudged her shoulder gently.

Huh, she must’ve been able to tell what she was thinking?

But Chloé wasn’t about to admit that. Especially not to Aurore of all people.

“Whatever, I know I’m their best friend, something you could only dream of having” She gave a playful smirk back, they were starting to get along without even knowing it.

“Hayo guys, let’s take a selfie to mark the beginning of this beautiful like friendship with all of you smols. Hope we all hang out some more” Holding out a camera for the 8 people there, posing for the camera, Noémie planning to tag them all later.

“C’mon Chloé! I wanna buy you something too” they were all dragged off to continue their shopping spree. So many clothes were brought, including the ones that the blondes had chosen, Rosina really loved them as well.

They all ended up getting some really cool shades as well, as well as the fact Chloé was able to spot a jacket that had the words ice queen written on the back. She so had to get one for her and Marinette to wear at school for kicks.

Rosina got everyone a bracelet with some colourful charms on. She got one for 3 others, but they weren’t there. They all beamed with glee as the girl was tackled with a hug by them all.

Marinette felt as if she could finally relax around them. They didn’t just hang out with her to try and make a plan for how to get her together with Adrien, they didn’t just hang out with her to just talk about her crush on Adrien, they actually all just wanted to hang out and enjoy each other’s company. Something she never got the chance to do before Lila came in… Not like she thought she’d be able to do, no doubt the topic would soon go towards Adrien eventually.

But she was able to take in the calm atmosphere around the group of 7.

She knew deep down in her heart that they would all soon be the best of friends.

***

The weekend had ended, and boy was a lot packed into that.

A lot.

Not only did everyone have tons of bags pack with new clothes and various items, but they also decided to dine out in Chloé’s hotel. Friends discount was applied here.

And amazingly Kagami was there along with her Mother. Rosina and Tomoe surprisingly had a conversation about fencing, Kagami was still apprehensive considering her Mother’s opinion about friends but it seemed to dissipate once Tomoe heard her Daughter laugh for the first time in a long time.

Tomoe also heard how fond Kagami was of Rosina after hearing about their fencing match, she wished to challenge Rosina to a match of her own to which Rosina happily agreed, much to everyone's surprise.

But they knew the girl could handle herself, 3 more so than the others but it was fine.

Also, remarkably, Rosina was able to convince Kagami and Tomoe to attend more get-togethers with the rest of the group. It might have something to do with Rosina speaking to her in Japanese and found Rosina to be a good influence.

So that’s how the group of 8 became 9.

The next day Rosina had finally started her contract with the Agreste’s. Rosina would start to be Adrien’s “bodyguard” at school, at fencing lessons as well as at photoshoots. On Sundays, she would be a language tutor for him as Saturdays would most likely be a day off, unplanned photoshoot or more piano lessons.

Adrien was ecstatic once this was all sorted. Finally, he wouldn’t be alone anymore, yeah, he wouldn’t be able to talk to Plagg as often, but as long as Plagg had his cheese he was sure he’d be alright. Besides, since Rosina was actually Crisono, he didn’t have to give a reason for his disappearances.

It did give him more of a reason why secret identities shouldn’t be so secret, but he knew he couldn’t reveal himself for his Lady and Master Fū.

The girls, however,

They were less than impressed with Rosina’s decision considering they told her they weren’t friends with Adrien anymore, but, it was Rosina’s choice and they couldn’t tell her not too.

Besides, it was who Rosina was. If she thought of Adrien as a friend, they couldn’t stop her, they may not like it but if they forced her to deny any interactions with him, they would be as bad as Lila.

So they had to learn to accept it and slowly, it didn’t faze them, sure they couldn’t hang out as much, but when you have a girl full of energy you find that they can and will spend as much time as possible with them.

So, when they arrived at school, they weren’t surprised to see Adrien hug Rosina.

“Thanks for agreeing Rosina” The latter nodded as they headed inside. Even if the blonde still hadn’t accepted it fully, the bluenette was there to help.

But then they heard something that made them both smirk.

“Alya are you alright, that new blog just skyrocketed up, it's halfway to the number of followers you have” Mylène seemed devastated but to that Alya waved her hand around, not the least bit interested.

“Oh please, that blog isn’t half as good as mine, where’s the pizazz? Its soo boring to look at I got tired after that first video.” Rose and Juleka didn’t look convinced.

“But her other videos are so much better. They even have that new hero no one knows about on it.” That perked the girl's interest.

“WHAT! How in the world did she get an interview with Crisono?” She soon watched that video and was furious to find Ladybug there as well.

“She’s even provided tips and other stuff with Akuma’s” Juleka joined in as Alya furiously search through the contents of the Let’sBugOut page. It somehow featured Ladybug in most of them, whether it was by video call or in person.

“So, she doesn’t accept interviews from me but from some amateur! How could she?” Alya didn’t know what she had done to receive the cold shoulder from Ladybug but she supposed that maybe she didn’t want her to be in any danger, that maybe if they stopped talking, Akuma’s wouldn’t be so interested to pick her as a target.

At least… That’s how Lila put it when she had come to the girl for help.

“Very easily, don’t you think? At least Aurore doesn’t pry about unnecessary details about Ladybug’s life. And she actually provides facts, something the LadyBlog is really missing.” Chloé retorted, returning to the desk at the back, everyone glaring at her she had become accustomed to it.

“Chloé how could you say that about Alya? Is this just because you aren’t Queen Bee anymore? And you're taking out your frustration on Alya. If you want, I could always ask Ladybug for advice on how you could improve and be a better person?” The girls swarmed around Lila appeared to be shocked while the other two were annoyed, how dare she sully Ladybug’s name!

“Girl there's no need to help someone like her, I know you're extremely kind, but you don’t need to extend it to the likes of her” Alya replied, that girl had a heart of gold.

“Are you sure, I wouldn’t want Chloé to become too upset at being rejected by Ladybug, I couldn’t imagine the shame she must be feeling now.” The duo was able to see that obvious jab made towards the blonde. How no one else could was a definite mystery?

Marinette paused, how Chloé decided to answer may decide on her future prospects of being a hero, what would she say?

“I wasn’t rejected by Ladybug, and how dare you lie about being friends with someone way out of your league.” The girls were quick to retort but Chloé paid them no mind.

“And I am still Queen Bee, in or out of costume. I don’t need it to define me. I’m more of a hero than you’ll ever be” She smirked at the last line before grabbing Rosina from Adrien, who was talking about schedules by the way, and promptly sitting down with Marinette. The blue-haired girl impressed by the blue-eyed girl's words. She didn’t spill the fact that technically she was still Queen Bee, just changed.

Chloé was learning.

She just wished the others would as well.

***

*Pont des Arts = A Pedestrian Bridge In Paris.

I hope you enjoy my new OC I put out. I just thought I wanted Luka to have more friends so here we go.

After making that outfit for Rosina I couldn’t stand it and knew I needed to change it, so I thought why not throw some Chloé sugar in there as I’m at it. Also, I think it’s reasonable for not everyone to believe or accept Chloé’s redemption since not everyone is so ready to forgive, right?

And with that, Rosina has kinda met all of the Marinette Protection Squad members (Minus Felix, he’s gonna be a special case)

1 more chapter till Piper, I really can’t wait for it, the next one will contain some unexpected salt towards a certain bluenette. Hope you’ll all enjoy it as much as me, I just think it’ll be great and clarify stuff.

Also, could someone help me with Rosina’s backstory? Or be willing to read and see if it's alright? Since she was found in a desert I was going to put her birthplace as Egypt, but with Franchezca travelling around she doesn’t really know anything about it, but later she learnt Arabic after her Aunt told her the story of how and where she was found.

Is that alright. I’m not offending anyone with that am I? do I need to change anything with that?

Sorry if it sounds stupid, I just want to make sure it's not insulting anyone.

Also, maybe some help with accents? Her first language was Spanish, but her favourite is Arabic, so what sort of accent would she have?

Anyway, I hope you liked this part can’t wait for the next it will be shorter, maybe haven’t planned it all out yet, but I hope that’s alright.

Note: Updated the pictures. Also, I keep updating Noemié’s design because of the artist in me, haha. hope you like hers.

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frankics · 4 years

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hello all you lovely lovely people ! thanks again for applying to this rp, you have NO idea how excited i am to get this going. i’m lily, i’m newly 20, in the est timezone and my pronouns are she/her. i love trash tv, my puppies, and the collected works of the greatest band in history (one direction). this is my trash daughter frankie, she truly belongs in the garbage but i love her so much. below the cut is my long ass intro for her, i forgive you if you don’t read it all because looking at it now i wouldn’t want to either ! anyway, if you’re interested in plotting with me and frankie, hmu on discord and you can check this blog for some connections i would love to see !

( alisha boe, cisfemale, she/her, MUSE E ) — oh my god, i totally just saw FRANCESCA ARCHER walking through greenwich village! you know, she plays SKYLAR ELLIS on that new netflix show, the village? i can’t believe they’re already famous at TWENTY-ONE. i’ve watched all of their interviews, and they totally come off as IMPERTINENT and RECKLESS, but they can also be ROMANTIC and WITTY. based on their social media, i’d describe FRANKIE like ( worn out black high-tops, mischievous smiles, nails painted different colors, peach vodka, swimming in an ocean during a storm ) — totally makes sense that people call them THE SPITFIRE.

important links: bio. statistics. filmography. muse posts. social media.

warning: death tw on the 5th bullet point!!

the frankie archer story begins in 1996, when her mother yasmiin moves from her home of somalia to brooklyn to pursue an art career. she moved into a tiny apartment halfway across the world, knowing nothing and no one, looking for inspiration. she found it in the form of lorenzo archer, her next door neighbor. they dated for two years, but neither family approved of the other as a match: yasmiin’s family wanted her to return to somalia, and lorenzo’s roman catholic family were not pleased about their son selecting a non-catholic woman. but lorenzo and yasmiin didn’t care, and got married at new york city hall with the court appointed witness. two weeks later, yasmiin was pregnant with frankie.

francesca simone archer was born on june 9, 1999. she is a gemini sun, a scorpio moon, and an aries rising. she was named francesca for her grandmother on the paternal side, and simone after nina simone, the singer that was playing on lorenzo’s record player when they first met. her two siblings, nala archer and zahi archer, were born in 2001 and 2003 respectively.

her childhood is generally quite happy. lorenzo and yasmiin were born to be parents and they love frankie, nala, and zahi endlessly, the type of supportive love that makes children thrive. frankie possesses a natural wit and excels academically, nala is the star athlete, and zahi is a wizard with watercolor. frankie loves the movies and decides she wants to be an actress when she grows up, so lorenzo and yasmiin enroll her in acting classes and improv camps. things chug along in the archer family beautifully.

that is, until frankie gets a high school scholarship to packer collegiate institute, located in the affluent neighborhood of brooklyn heights. she takes it, of course, with her parents’ full support. but she is nothing like anyone else who attends packer, and for a 14 year old who wants to blend in, that is the worst possible thing. she is suddenly, painfully aware of her worn-out clothes, her used books, her strange mother with paint stains on her bleached out jeans. frankie lashes out, screaming and storming off and slamming doors. she and her mother are hurricanes and the rest of the family simply battens down the hatches. one day when frankie is 15, she tells her mother that this family is her worst nightmare. it is the last words she will ever speak to her mother.

a few hours after, the archers get a call that yasmiin has been in an accident. it was a hit and run: a drunk driver t-boned her, and they’re rushing her to the hospital. when the family arrives, the doctors break the news that yasmiin is comatose and that things aren’t looking good. lorenzo refuses to take her off life support, insisting she’ll recover. she is in a coma for nearly a year and a half before he is convinced to pull the plug.

and now, the part of the frankie archer story that everyone knows, the serendipitous hollywood beginning. she’s just a charming, talented, grieving, all-american girl from brooklyn, heading off to juilliard in the fall. on her 18th birthday, the first one spent without her mother, she attends an open call for a role in an indie film called thursday mourning. she thinks it’ll be a fun way to spend the day, or at least distracting enough. and then she gets the fucking part.

long story short, the film blows up. it’s shown at venice, winning the golden lion and a prize for frankie as the most promising young actor in the festival. it’s nominated for four oscars, including a best supporting actress nom for frankie. she doesn’t win, but it’s created a path for her to do whatever she wants, acting-wise. she does three more films in the next two years, gaining a reputation as an indie darling before realizing that indie films don’t make all that much money.

and she needs money, because her father is drowning in hospital bills from yasmiin’s death that he can’t pay. that’s when the offer comes through from her agent: a starring role in an ensemble cast netflix show called the village. she’s planning on throwing the script away. she’s not interested in any television show, much less a teen drama. she’s a serious actress and she certainly doesn’t want to be the next veronica lodge, made fun of on the internet by strangers with discerning taste. but with a little coaxing from her agent, she reads the script, and the role is good, the writing strong. so she takes the village, even though she wants to do movies more, even though she might get memed into oblivion. one episode will halve her father’s debt.

frankie was tapped for the village because while she’s definitely not as famous as some of her other castmates, nor does she have the hollywood background, she has consistently received acclaim for her performances. the producers think it will bring them some clout with the critics, and she has a sterling reputation as a hard worker on set.

so that’s the basic bio of frankie! now onto her personality >:-)

first of all, and most importantly, if you call her francesca you are DEAD.

frankie’s described by the media as a spitfire, and she definitely lives up to that description. she’s not particularly patient with interviews or paparazzi, she has a nasty mouth and an acerbic sense of humor, and to the general public she probably comes across as quite guarded and private about her life. she got into this business to be an actress, not a celebrity.

nevertheless, if she wanted to be a celebrity, she could probably be a pretty beloved one. frankie has a very charismatic, charming way about her, that probably lets her get away with more in the public eye than she should. there’s just something about that hollywood story that makes people relate to her and root for her.

the number one defining characteristic of frankie is her passion. she throws herself intensely into everything she does, feels emotions too vividly, fights for what she wants. she cares so much about everything. acting is her main passion, her forever love. it’s why she’s so good at what she does: she’s not the most talented, she doesn’t have the most training, but she feels so intensely. it also makes her very emotional (classic cancer!) if you’re close with her

also because of this passion, she’s probably the most competitive person you’ll ever meet in your entire life. she’s like, slightly insane about it? she wants to win everything, but she hates losing even more than she likes winning. she’s the type to throw a tiny tantrum if she loses a game of uno.

frankie’s always been bold, likes to live life on the edge, but it became something much uglier after her mother’s death. she’s reckless to the nth degree: doing her own stunts, drinking and partying the night away. she’s not suicidal, but in some ways, it’s like she doesn’t have a huge regard for her own life.

in her private life, frankie is pretty different. it’s not so much that her negative qualities disappear -- she still swears like a sailor and is less than patient. but rather, the flaws become less apparent when you get to know her. she’s sort of a goofy little marshmallow wearing a giant suit of spiky armor.

one of the most loyal people you will ever meet, because she throws herself headlong into friendships and relationships. she’s sort of an all or nothing type gal, so if you befriend frankie expect it to be a very close relationship whether you like it or not.

she is kind of the crazy friend? she’s baby? like she’s absolutely the person who’s encouraging everyone else to do dumb shit, and she’s always coming up with ridiculous ideas and pranks. side note give frankie a prank buddy on set!

she’s really quite witty. she absolutely loves twitter, which is basically the only glimpse the general public would get as to who frankie is in private. her twitter filled with her dumb jokes and random thoughts. in another life, she might have been a twitter comic.

she is a hopeless romantic, which she will never admit to anyone in the world unless it’s layered under 100 miles of sarcasm. the only relationship she’s really ever known is her parents’ relationship, and they were madly in love til the bitter end. she desperately wants something like that, but hasn’t quite found it. she’s been in exactly one pr relationship, but nothing particularly real or long-lasting.

she loves fashion. her mother taught her to sew and she sketches and makes some of her own clothes. her absolute dream is to collab with a designer on a fashion line: some of her favorite labels are marc jacobs, jean paul-gaultier, sies marjan, and moschino! she’s also had a lot of positive press for her red carpet looks.

she has a dog, who she loves more than anything! his name is duke, he’s a staffie rescue, and she brings him on set frequently. she’s lobbying to get him cast as someone’s dog.

she’s playing skylar ellis on the village, and because this is literally so long you can find some info about skylar at these links: statistics, muse posts, social media. i haven’t finished writing her entire bio yet but here’s the rundown: skylar appears to everyone like the pretty princess who has everything she could ever want. her parents are rich, she’s beautiful and smart, and she has a perfect relationship with phillip. but on the inside, she’s drowning. her dad wants her to take over the family company but she wants to be a writer, and the worst part is that she’s good at writing and horrible at business! she’s always been content to go with the flow (aka, what her parents want) because things are good in her life, but after her encounter with james over the summer, she’s realizing that she is completely trapped in a life she doesn’t want in the least. now she’s a conflicted mess of emotion trying to figure out what to do.

#click on her name for a fun lil surprise ;)#this is SO LONG i'm sorry

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cortibah · 5 years

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So, I’ve recently replayed Chapter 4, and I might have played ‘Angelo Bronte, A Man of Honour’ while a teeeensy bit drunk, and I may have started thinking and well now I’m stuck with this long-ass HC and/or theory:

Angelo Bronte was behind most of, if not all of, Chapter 4.

We know that Bronte rules the underworld of Saint Denis. We know he has some street kids in his employ. We know he has significant connections to local politics, namely Mayor Lemiuex (and we can assume that he retains those connections even if you complete ‘Idealism and Pragmatism for Beginners’ and spare Jean-Marc). It’s not unreasonable to think that he has connections within law enforcement too - if not actively collaborating, then via crooked cops. It’s also not unreasonable to think that Bronte has a city-wide surveillance network of street kids and other lookouts, all of them not as conspicuous as the men in his direct employ.

Bronte is in a position of power and has no intention of giving it up. We can therefore safely assume that getting there took some serious grit, and that he has had to fend off rivals more than once, both from the city and outsiders trying to get a foothold. I would say it’s not implausible that he would look into any would-be rival as soon as possible - in terms of whatever information is available to him about them.

Bronte seems disinterested in events outside of Saint Denis - he was a ‘customer’ of Catherine Braithwaite (see the letter you can pick up in ‘Blood Feuds, Ancient and Modern’) but he didn’t seem all that upset at what happened. He seems disinterested in the Rhodes feud overall. But, we also know through this that he has contacts outside of the city.

Dutch van der Linde is a wanted man almost everywhere. He’s already got a reputation. Most of the gang also have bounties on their heads, if not for association with Dutch then for their own crimes. Most of the gang are known to associate with Dutch as well. I don’t think the information the Pinkertons have about who is in the gang would be available to Bronte, but what’s publicly available would be. (This part I’m fuzzy on, as I’m not sure if Saint Denis police would be able to get information from the Pinkertons and from there relay it to Bronte or not. It’s not really important.)

It’s reasonable to think that while Bronte didn’t care enough to investigate when Catherine first had issues with the gang, he may have started looking into them as early as Jack’s kidnapping. (It’s also possible that Jack may have blabbed a little - I can let that slide, he’s 4 and John clearly hasn’t had the talk about not being a walking infosec nightmare.)

I will say this though - Dutch surprised Bronte. Based on the time skips, I’d say that ‘The Joys of Civilization’ would have taken place in the morning - probably not later than 8-9am, and for me it ended at around 2pm. ‘Angelo Bronte, A Man of Honour’ can be picked up almost immediately. Meaning that within the space of about 6 hours, Dutch had Bronte’s location and was on his way - even though there’s no doubt that Bronte was already alerted that people were asking about him, potentially even already aware that at least one of them was Dutch van der Linde.

From the outsider’s perspective, that speed - getting a location and hitting it within 6 hours - gives the impression that Dutch and his gang are highly disciplined, well-coordinated, and highly experienced, even if they’re not perhaps as quiet as they could be. Combine this with Dutch’s reputation, and Bronte had good reason to be worried...

...and then he meets Dutch face-to-face. The insults could well have been bravado, or he could genuinely have been unimpressed by what he was looking at. Still - again, this outsider comes into his city, locates him, and is at his front door in a matter of hours. Doesn’t look like much, but still, bit of a worry.

It’s absolutely possible that Bronte set them up already with the graveyard job, perhaps wanting to see how Dutch’s team performed without their leader present. Given that it’s absolutely possible to escape the cemetery undetected, John and Arthur may have further given the impression to Bronte that he was dealing with very skilled, coordinated and disciplined people.

Now, let’s jump forwards to ‘The Gilded Cage’. Who does Bronte point out to Dutch?

Mayor Henri Lemieux, already discussed. Apparently owes Bronte money. In the last part of ‘Idealism and Pragmatism for Beginners’, Arthur can potentially dethrone him as Mayor of Saint Denis. During the beginning of that chain too, he drops the hint that he knows Arthur’s real name.

Colonel Alberto Fussar, who shows up on Guarma (more on this part later)

Hobart Crawley. I don’t believe he shows up again, but correct me if I’m wrong.

Rains Fall and (possibly) Eagle Flies. They’re not part of the conspiracy, and I feel like they’re probably gatecrashing just a little - but Bronte doesn’t seem to care, or already knew they would show up and didn’t bother trying to stop them.

Hector Fellowes, newspaper tycoon. Again, I feel like Bronte’s comment about killing him was to see how Dutch might react. Too much fawning would have been suspicious too, as would an outright refusal. (And, later, Arthur threatens Fellowes on behalf of Lemieux... more on that in a bit too.)

There’s a few other important people at the party, and I absolutely believe that Bronte would’ve at least had access to the guest list, and absolutely would have been able to place people on it that he wanted there.

First, there’s the finance guy that Hosea talks to, and gets the information about the bank from. Now, don’t get me wrong - Hosea is very careful in how he asks his questions, but he’s still talking about work at a party. It’s very possible that the banker is not a banker at all, or is under orders from Bronte to dangle information - and/or report back if someone seemed awfully interested in the bank in Saint Denis. (This is the slightly crackpot part of this theory.)

Dutch spoke with Heston Jameson, the head of Sisika Penitentiary, and Crawley. I don’t think it’s a coincedence that Jameson was there. (We’ll get back to him later.)

Arthur doesn’t speak to anyone, but he can be recognized by Lillian Powell if you’ve interacted with her at La Bastille (I think she has 3 or 4 interactions, I don’t know if you have to complete them all before she’ll appear at the party) and obvs saves Algernon Wasp. It’s possible all of the NPCs you can interact with at the party (pouring drinks, accepting the gift, etc) are named, but I don’t have my copy of the game right now to check. ANYWAY. NOT IMPORTANT.

Also - Bronte dangles the trolley station tip. Now, it’s not at all controversial that Bronte absolutely set up Dutch to take a fall this way. I want to explain why, and why the rest of the theory, while admittedly all wild speculation on my part, is made plausible by it.

Firstly, let’s think back to ‘Angelo Bronte, A Man of Honour’. Overall, Bronte has the impression that Dutch and his gang are disciplined, coordinated, well-informed, and generally, damn good at what they do even if they don’t tend to do it quietly. But he’s now met Dutch in-person twice, and he’s clearly not quite sure what to think.

So, he dangles the trolley station This could have gone several ways:

Had Dutch played it cool, accepted the tip but not acted on it at all and stayed out of the city from then on, Bronte may have been led into thinking that Dutch had only intended to stick around long enough to retrieve Jack, and that was it.

Had Dutch played it cool, accepted the tip, not acted on it and stayed active in the city, that tells Bronte that Dutch already had his eye on a bigger prize, and may have marked Dutch as a potential threat. (Or, it would indicate that Dutch had checked the information through someone else.)

Had Dutch accepted the tip and only scouted the station, then backed off, that would have told Bronte that Dutch not only intends to stick around, but is clever enough to double-check information. Again, that marks Dutch as a threat.

But. Dutch did none of these things. Dutch accepted the information, scouted the station poorly enough to fail to notice that there wasn’t that much money there, and was most likely seen scouting the station (remember, Bronte has plenty of surveillance out there).

This could have told Bronte two things, potentially both at the same time.

One, Dutch was exactly what Bronte thought of him - good at pretending to be clever, but not actually that smart. Absolutely out of his depth in a city, and up against someone with more resources, personnel, connections and power than him. In other words, not a threat.

Two, Dutch is either desperate enough or stupid enough to take a tip from someone who he has no reason to believe is an ally, and act on obviously bad information even after checking it himself (either through poor scouting, or sheer desperation). Dutch is desperate for money, and so can be played with that. And where is all the money? The bank. Therefore, Bronte could have deduced that Dutch would likely try to hit the bank soon.

I absolutely believe that Bronte informed the Saint Denis police to watch that station more closely, hence why they showed up so fast. It’s also not inconceivable that he warned them that someone was planning to rob the bank - John notes in the intro to ‘Banking, the Old American Art’ that there’s an awful lot of cops around already. It’s possible that the Pinkertons were informed by Saint Denis police, either beforehand or obtaining the information after coming in to investigate Bronte’s death. (Or even directly from Bronte’s 2IC - while I’m sure Milton & Ross have no more love for Bronte than they do for Dutch, we know they’re willing to work with criminals to catch other criminals, and Bronte’s 2IC could well have been after revenge.)

The only place where Bronte went wrong? He forgot that the gang can move damn fast when it wants to, and was unaware that Dutch is vindictive as all hell.

Dutch actually showed some cleverness in the double feature of ‘Country Pursuits’ and ‘Revenge is a Dish Best Served’. He correctly worked out that Saint Denis is full of Bronte’s eyes and ears, so went to Lagras instead - an impoverished, mostly black and/or Creole community that evidently don’t like Bronte much either, and a good distance from Saint Denis too. I’m sure part of his getting in good with Thomas was commiserating over Bronte, plus the water infil/exfil route is quiet, clearly unexpected, and leaves no trail to be followed. While I’m not sure Dutch was expecting the Legendary Alligator to make an appearance... well, they got out alive.

I don’t think more than 24 hours could have passed between ‘Country Pursuits’ and ‘Revenge is a Dish Best Served’. Bronte was clearly caught off-guard, since he was still in the house, and was forced to resort to hiding in the bathroom.

In other words, what Bronte wasn’t expecting was a repeat of ‘The Joys of Civilization’/’Angelo Bronte, A Man of Honour’ - that under the right conditions, the gang can move incredibly fast. They already knew his location, they just needed a way in - and it’s kind of on Bronte to not think about making sure he was secure from a water infiltration as well.

Was it smart of Dutch to kill Bronte? I’d actually argue, yes - leaving Bronte alive meant risking reprisal. However, it was absolutely an impulsive decision on Dutch’s part. A better way to handle it would have been to have made it clear from the start that Bronte was never going to be taken alive, but that he’d be executed elsewhere where the evidence could be quickly destroyed. A bit less shocking for the gang.

Had Dutch left Bronte alive, I have no doubt that Bronte would’ve wiped out the gang as soon as he had a chance to. If not out of anger or to remove a threat, then to ensure Dutch couldn’t humiliate him a third time.

But, there was a loose end left - the bank. Again, I think it’s absolutely plausible that Bronte ensured the information about the bank was planted, and/or that he was informed that someone had been asking about the bank at the party.

There’s three possibilities.

One: Undoubtedly, Bronte’s 2IC would have been privy to all of this, either before or after his death. And even if Bronte’s 2IC wasn’t out for revenge, Dutch was an obvious threat that needed to be dealt with. So, Bronte’s 2IC informs the law - someone is going for the bank, soon. Might have even informed them that it was Dutch who would be going for the bank. Bronte’s 2IC works fast, as evidenced by the hostile personnel placed at almost all entrances to the city (and possibly throughout) after ‘Revenge’.

Two: Lemieux, having lost the guy who was loaning him money, may have gone to the law and passed on the information. Lemieux knew who Arthur was, at least, and it’s probable he knew or could easily find out who the rest of the gang are. If Arthur completes ‘Idealism and Pragmatism for Beginners’ in Jean-Marc’s favor, this might also have been a bit of revenge. This possibility has some more holes though, as I’m not sure how Lemiuex would have had information that the gang was planning to hit the bank. I doubt Bronte would have shared it with him.

Three: some combination of both of these.

How the Pinkertons obtained the information and got in on the counter-operation isn’t as important, but they did - and thus, we get ‘Banking, the Old American Art’.

In other words: Bronte got the last laugh.

As a fun bonus, I don’t think it’s a coincedence that John was sent to Sisika and Jameson was at the party. (I’m not clear on how long the guys were in Guarma, but it was obviously long enough for him to be tried and sentenced - I’m sure the Pinkertons wanted it all done by the book and with no room for appeals.) Granted, Sisika is about as secure as it gets, and since others in the gang are at large...

Fussar I think might be a red herring. I don’t remember him recognizing Dutch - even if he had, he would have needed a name (though remembering that Dutch was at Lemieux’s party would have narrowed down the list of potential identities). He and Dutch never spoke though (that I can remember) and while Dutch does stand out a bit, it’s very possible that Fussar never even saw him at the party. Still, it’s kind of a fun little shout-out - and it links ‘The Gilded Cage’, ‘Help A Brother Out’ and the entire Guarma chapter too.

#this is a post #rdr2 #I'm aware this is a little bit pepe silvia #but look it's plausible #I may be overestimating the surveillance and information gathering capabilities #of a 19th century Mafia boss #and tbh anything on Bronte's motives or thoughts is 10000% speculation on my part #but iT MAKES SENSE OK #it makes goddamn sense #red dead redemption 2 #spoilers #rdr2 spoilers #spoilers for chapter 4 mainly #analysis

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dailyskyferreira · 6 years

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Sky Ferreira Returns With an uncompromising vision and the studio hours to back it up, the enigmatic singer is back with a new single—and a promise that her first album in six years will be worth the wait.

So, what’s Sky Ferreira been doing all this time? Well, for the last 35 minutes or so, she’s been in the bathroom.

“I’m so sorry,” she says when she finally emerges, eyes wet, arms full of winter layers. It’s a late-February afternoon at New York City’s Russian Tea Room, the fabled blini-and-caviar haunt of candy-red banquettes and eternal Christmas ornaments where Madonna once worked the coat check. About a half hour ago, the 26-year-old singer turned up for our afternoon-tea reservation only to disappear in an immediate whorl, as if a czarist vortex sucked her into the basement. What she had thought was an asthmatic flare-up, she now explains, was actually a pretty severe anxiety attack. A panicked twinge remains in her expression, like the distant memory of tasting a lemon. In town from Los Angeles for three days, she tells me, “I’ve been anxious to the point that I haven’t slept at all.”

It’s a nerve-wracking moment for Sky, a pop artist, actor, and model who’s lately been keeping a low profile. This is partly because she seems to find the social contract of the PR exchange stressful, but also because she doesn’t want to suck up all the air before she gets a chance to breathe. “You really can get sick of someone’s face,” she says, as only someone who has loaned their own to Jimmy Choo and Calvin Klein could. “I don’t see the point of doing a bunch of photoshoots or press when I don’t have anything out.”

The fact that she hasn’t had anything out might be the biggest stress of all. Signed to Capitol Records at 15, Sky spent years in teen-pop A&R purgatory—groomed as a naughty-girl-next-door type with mall-Shakira hair and prefabricated singles with names like “Haters Anonymous” and “Sex Rules” (“We are animals/No matter what we deny/Our bodies strong, like magnets” are actual words she sang)—only to have her minders decide she wasn’t worth the trouble and shelve her long-promised full-length debut. Rather than give up, she used money she’d earned modeling and finished the album without their help.

Released in October 2013, Night Time, My Time was a rare major-label triumph of craft over product, a purposeful barrage of seething recriminations coated with ’90s-grunge textures and ’80-pop incandescence. It sounded like “My So-Called Life”’s Angela Chase mainlining John Hughes films and channeling her existential anguish into a record—except Night Time was the vision of a 2010s 21-year-old, and the truths were all hers.

The right people loved it. In the spring of 2015, Sky announced her second record’s name was Masochism and promised its first single that summer. The summer came and went, then the fall, and some winter too. On that New Year’s Eve, she addressed the delay obliquely on Instagram (“I refuse to put out something that isn’t honest”) and promised “in 2016 you will hear it.” In 2016, you did not, and now it’s 2019, and, still, no album. At this point, she can’t post online without some commenters popping up to heckle, “where’s the album sky” or “MASOCHISM!!?” or “still waiting,” like they’re hungry people rage-texting Seamless.

These impatient fans aren’t alone in their enthusiasm. “She’s one of those beautiful, rare people who can probably do anything,” says Debbie Harry, who’s had Sky open for Blondie. “If there’s anybody I would ever be jealous of, it would be her.”

Naturally, all of this—the anticipation, the unfulfilled promises, the time lapsed since her last release—is adding to the pressure she puts on herself. She feels like she has to explain. “It wasn’t by choice.” It wasn’t creative paralysis, nor was it a creative hiatus. “I wasn’t just taking time for myself the last five years.” During that time, she landed a half dozen movie roles, but she says she didn’t decide to focus on acting instead. “I never stepped away from music.” She alludes to vague external hindrances: “I’ve been at the mercy of people the last few years”; “gatekeepers”; “the rug pulled out under me”; a “someone at my label” who undid the generous arrangement she had to work with Kanye West musical director Mike Dean; and the very real issue of a young woman telling men what she wants and not settling for less. Then the labyrinthine nature of her production process is, as you’ll see, akin to playing charades blind-folded while riding a dog, and everyone else guesses with kazoos. Plus, she’s a perfectionist. Obsessive. She’ll do 800 takes. She’ll consider every option—and then she’ll consider it again.

But the primary reason it’s taken so long: Sky doesn’t just want her new songs done, she wants them to be good. By good, she means, executed the way she intended, no matter how long she waited to find the right violinist. Properly mixed so they don’t accidentally sound like pop-punk in the car, because “someone puts some shit on my voice” and she forgot to play them in an Uber. (Sky never learned to drive.) Songs that know their place in the broader pop continuum, not what’s hot on streaming. “I’m not looking for ‘a moment,’” she says. “I’m looking for a career—and real careers, you build them.”

She’s deemed two songs good enough to share with me. The first single, “Downhill Lullaby,” is a five-and-a-half-minute, goth-noir, chamber-pop piece—with strings!—that could have easily closed an episode of the revived “Twin Peaks.” (The association may be deliberate: Sky appeared in the show’s 2017 return, deeply admires its director, David Lynch, and the series’ music supervisor, Dean Hurley, produced the song alongside her.) Another forthcoming track, tentatively titled “Don’t Forget,” is a new wave time warp, a lovely bit of nostalgia therapy for people who were never there—even if it is, according to Sky, “about burning down houses.”

By now we’re settled into a booth, one Sky has selected in the empty part of the restaurant, far away from her manager and publicist, who’ve come along to chaperone. Her natural espresso roots have outrun her hair’s blonde highlights, and her dark T-shirt reads “CHICAGO METAL MANIA.” We’ve managed to order tea by asking the waiter to bring what he likes (a nice, orangey, spicy chai) and then momentarily horrify him when Sky asks if, instead of sending the teeny triangular sandwiches with mayonnaise back to the kitchen (she hasn’t touched them, and mayo makes her gag), we can give them to someone who’s homeless. “I’ll get you the ones without mayonnaise,” the waiter says, taking them away.

“I don’t have a back-up plan,” Sky says. “I never have. I don’t have an education. I don’t know how to, like, play music in the [traditional] sense. I’m socially awkward and stuff—I couldn’t really do a lot of other jobs either,” she says. “Literally, there’s no other option for me. So this has to work.”

There are many Sky Ferreiras. There’s Sky the model, a Hedi Slimane muse who’s walked the runway for Marc Jacobs and perfected a glare so haunted the Bates Motel must be jealous. There’s Sky the actor, who played a key supporting role in director Edgar Wright’s big-studio heist flick Baby Driver, but doesn’t have an agent. There’s Sky the live performer, who battles stage fright, but who also opened a 2014 Miley Cyrus arena tour, fell down an elevator shaft on night three, and still took the stage the next day.

There’s also the Sky here at the Russian Tea Room, whose left dimple comes as a surprise because, come to think of it, you’ve rarely seen photos of her smiling. The Sky who shouldn’t eat gluten because of an autoimmune condition, but doesn’t really tell people about it because it sounds like bullshit. The Sky who’s watched enough “Game of Thrones” to see her pets’ personalities reflected in the show’s characters. (For the record, her cat Egg would be a Lannister, while his brother Squirrel would be from the North.)

This Sky speaks in em dashes. It’s less that she loses her train of thought, and more that her thought train is screeching onto a new track. Sometimes you’re right there with her, but other times you’re watching the conversation from a distance like a detached caboose that just kept going straight. “I know I keep going in circles,” she says, “but my mind kind of always does that—spins.”

You don’t interview this Sky as much as steer her, but first you listen. “I’ve always been really shy,” she says, six minutes in. “I was actually mute for years when I was a kid.”

Little Sky Tonia Ferreira hummed along to the radio before she could talk. Raised around Los Angeles, mostly Venice Beach, her young parents split when she was a baby. Her dad tended bar, sometimes with her in tow, and when his roommates got cable, she devoured MTV. “I always hung out with a lot of adults,” she says. “I was, like, one of those kids.”

Being one of those kids meant she didn’t know how to talk to the kids who knew how to talk with each other. She was bullied constantly. She also had trouble with numbers and spelling—she suspects she’s dyslexic, but never got tested—and for a while, was so unhappy, she stopped talking altogether. “I had really long hair, didn’t speak, and had dark circles around my eyes,” she says, describing herself as a child. “I looked kinda feral.”

As the story goes, Sky’s first-grade classmates didn’t know she could talk until she sang “Over the Rainbow” in school. “As long as I can remember, I’ve felt the most like myself when I was singing,” she says. (Roughly 18 years later, she covered the Wizard of Oz ballad at David Lynch’s Festival of Disruption, and the director still raves about her version, telling me, “It was incredible. So beautiful.”)

She lived with her grandmother, who worked as a hairdresser. One time when Sky was around 7, she sang for one of her grandmother’s clients. Impressed, the man suggested she join a gospel choir. The man was Michael Jackson. So she did. Jackson also gave a 9-year-old Sky some grown-up advice that’s shaped her approach to art and music ever since: “He was like, ‘Don’t focus on things that are just around you—you need to look back to the history of music.’ And that’s what I did.”

Yes, Sky went to the Neverland Ranch—“a lot.” She also went to Jackson’s other houses. No, she didn’t witness anything untoward. “It wasn’t just because I was a girl,” she tells me, a few days before the controversial HBO documentary Leaving Neverland aired. “I was around a lot of kids.”

Yes, she’s grown hesitant to talk about her grandmother’s larger-than-life client—for all the reasons you’d expect, along with a few you might not. Like, that it’s difficult for people to wrap their minds around the fact that the King of Pop could be a formative elder acquaintance in the casually anodyne way of, say, a dancing-school teacher or a little-league coach—someone whose small encouragements could be so big. “I was really quiet, but when someone sees something in you...” she says of Jackson, before abandoning the thought. “I had a connection to him, but I’m not, like, his family.”

Sky has also routinely been asked to account for the bad behavior of men in her orbit. A dominant narrative surrounding Night Time, My Time’s 2013 release was her relationship with indie rock band DIIV’s frontman, Zachary Cole Smith—an ex-boyfriend with whom she was arrested that September. He was the driver of the vehicle in which heroin, ecstasy, and a stolen license plate were found (and someone who’s since publicly acknowledged his struggles with addiction). Throughout that album cycle, the arrest became a more delicious red herring than anything Sky had actually done.

“The thing that’s still so fucked up about that: I didn’t have a drug problem, I dated someone who had a drug problem, I was in a car with someone who had a drug problem,” she says. “No one wants to talk about how my charge got dropped.” And the whole Kurt and Courtney star-crossed mythos that dramatized the headlines around the arrest? Spare her. “I was really young; I wasn’t even 21 yet for most of it. That wasn’t my great love story of my life,” she says, adding, “The people that have treated me so much better—they’re the ones who deserve the attention, not that guy.” (Presumably, one of those people is her current partner, Elias Bender Rønnenfelt, frontman of the Danish punk band Iceage.)

Those who have followed Sky’s personal life could easily read “Downhill Lullaby” as an extended metaphor about a tumultuous relationship: “I can see that you want me/Going downhill too/Going downhill into a lullaby.” But she’s adamant about distancing her songwriting from the egos of her ex-boyfriends. “That’s the one rule I made,” she says. “The one thing that I’ve always had is my music. If someone treated me badly, they don’t get to have that. I don’t want to drag the weight of what they did around forever.”

For Sky Ferreira, time is not a flat circle, but rather a sticky mass of saltwater taffy. She tends to run late, but once she’s present and engaged, she can summon an Iron Man endurance. At the Russian Tea Room, two hours of conversation easily floats into six-and-a-half, and eventually we’re the last diners to leave. Somewhere in this elasticity, she talks about her refusal to give up on the work. “I’ve literally been using my life savings to do this record.” She is not motivated by money—to her, time isn’t money, but money is a thing to buy more time.

This springy relationship with time can make Sky seem almost anachronistic. In conversation, her offhanded pop-cultural mentions span director Todd Solondz’s 1995 cult indie Welcome to the Dollhouse, Courtney Love, the 1980 Loretta Lynn biopic Coal Miner’s Daughter, the 2018 iteration of A Star Is Born, and the cheerful ’60s sitcom “The Andy Griffith Show” (which she concedes, “No one my age knows”). Sky’s reference points, like Michael Jackson once advised, exist within a totality, not a blip.

One of her artistic lodestars glows brighter than the others: When Sky was 13, she discovered David Lynch. “He’s the first person who ever saw the world the way I saw it,” she says. “It was the first time anything made sense.” You can see Lynchian dream logic throughout her work. In fact, the staggering, airy title dirge from Night Time, My Time came to her in a dream. “I wrote it in the middle of the night, half-asleep,” she remembers about the album closer, which was built around a line spoken by the doomed girl at the center of the “Twin Peaks” saga. “Then I woke up the next day and I finished it in an hour. I still have the notes; the handwriting’s all fucked up. ” When she finished the song, she knew the album was finally done.

So Sky’s cameo in “Twin Peaks: The Return” had the meta-ness of astral projection. She played Ella, an enigmatic bar patron who talked about a penguin and flaunted a “wicked” armpit rash. “She played that scene so perfectly,” Lynch tells me. “She inhabited that character and made it real from a deep place. When she scratched that rash, you could really feel the itching!”

“Downhill Lullaby” summons the creeping orchestral gloom of “Night Time, My Time.” A sweeping arrangement in five parts, Masochism’s first single begins with a sashay of strings and an interpolation of the unmistakable squee of the Verve’s “Bitter Sweet Symphony,” followed by a murmuring, angered bass. Sky exhales a numb indictment—“You leave me open/When you hit me”—and amid the layers of kettle-drum thunder and keening violins, there’s seduction and revenge, confusion and queasiness, silkiness and elegance. It sounds like the last thing Daniel Day Lewis’ Reynolds Woodcock hears before the poison takes hold in Phantom Thread.

This habit of visualizing music—Sky does it too. Except for her, it’s the first step of many in the song creation process: “I see it like it’s projected in a movie theater.” “Downhill Lullaby,” in particular, began with a vision of water in darkness. “Lakes kind of terrify me,” she explains, recalling a childhood memory of feeling lost in a Maryland forest that packs a similar unease. “In a lake, by yourself, you look at the bottom and it’s murky and still and you can’t really see anything or feel anything—and if you do, it’s fucking terrifying. It always feels like something will grab you and pull you under.” The eeriness became the foundation for the song.

She likens the ordeal of making “Downhill Lullaby” to Mickey Mouse’s Fantasia turn as the sorcerer’s apprentice. “You know how all the brooms are making a gigantic mess and the water starts rising and rising and rising and rising?” she says. “It was sort of like that: Magical, but at the same time, ‘What is going on?’ And then cleaning it all up.”

Her technique is more like a collagist—one who both scavenges her raw materials and oversees the fabrication—than a traditional songwriter. Conceptually, she works backwards, starting a song with an imagined outline of the final arrangement, isolating each sound element, and then embarking on the oft-laborious task of identifying studio musicians with the time and patience and willingness to conjure each sound individually, so that once she’s gathered all the pieces, she can begin the meticulous process of putting them all back together.

This unorthodox approach to songwriting has led to recurring logistical difficulties for Masochism. Namely, figuring out how to articulate what she hears so that someone who’s not in her brain can actualize it. “Nobody really understood what I was trying to say or wanted to do on paper,” she says. “It was a really long process.”

Sky never learned how to read music and she’s too self-conscious to use instruments that aren’t her voice in front of others. So if there’s an obvious reference point—like a certain note in a ’90s-radio staple she wants imitated—she’ll play that for her collaborator. But when there’s not, she’s often like a conductor asking to summon a mood.

In the case of Danish violinist Nils Gröndahl, who recorded all the strings on “Downhill Lullaby,” she recalls telling him: “‘Play it as if you’re one of the birds in Snow White, singing underwater, while slowly being suffocated by plastic.’” And you know what? In the end result, it’s easy to hear all that.

Additionally, Sky is even more particular about her final mixes. She will only be satisfied after she’s evaluated her song in seven different listening contexts: a car stereo; a smartphone with “regular” headphones; a smartphone with Apple earbuds; a smartphone’s built-in speaker; on a laptop; through “really bad, bad computer speakers—like the ones that came with Dells back in the early 2000s”; and the lush splendor of the studio, which is a personal luxury because, as she notes, “most people aren’t gonna listen that way.”

And she goes through this convoluted course of action for every song. It’s no wonder Masochism has taken so long. Says Sky, “I’ve accepted this is how I work and stopped feeling bad about it.”

Two Fridays after her insomniac New York trip, Sky is on the line, self-confidence restored, completing a high percentage of her sentences. Earlier in the week, she received the “Downhill Lullaby” master, immediately dropped her phone and shattered its screen, so now she’s on speaker. “I was like, I hope this isn’t a metaphor?” At least she’s laughing.

As for Masochism. She tells me she produced most of it herself, wrote with Los Angeles-based dream-pop artist Tamaryn, and worked with Ariel Pink collaborator Jorge Elbrecht. The proper album is coming, Sky swears, almost positively in 2019. Granted, she said the same thing last year—and the year before that and the year before that and the year before that—but this time, she has finally loosened her grip on some songs.

“Downhill Lullaby” may sound like dying Disney birds and “Don’t Forget” may be electro-pop arson, but Sky promises “more poppy” songs on Masochism too, as well as more “abstract,” orchestral stuff. “It’s very big, but also very violent,” she says, half-chuckling. “But not all the songs are super-dark.” Beyond that—the number of songs, tracklist, other credited collaborators—who can say? Sky can’t yet. She has some songs in mind she’d still like to write.

#sky ferreira #2019

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ernmark · 7 years

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Heartless (part 1)

This is one of those fics that popped into my head and wouldn’t leave me alone, so I finally gave in and wrote it all down.

It’s long enough that it’s getting split into two parts, so look forward to that tomorrow.

Rilla can see Damien’s approach through the bars of her thistle cage, and she knows something is wrong the moment she lays eyes on him. He rides through the swamp like a hurricane given human form, imposing even without the bow in his hand or the giant of a knight riding at his side. Like a storm, the whole of the swamp seems to go still at his approach. Like a storm, she can taste the change in the air before it hits.

She swallows.

“Frightened, little human?” asks the lizard who has no idea what’s coming for him.

She looks him in his violet eyes. “My fiancee is a Knight of the Queen. The greatest of her Knights.” Or tied for the title, but really, Sir Angelo is right there.

The lizard doesn’t stand a chance.

And maybe he recognizes that, because his bony brows knit and his frill tightens around his throat, and his presence seems to shrink into itself as he turns to look again at the approaching knights.

“Your fiancee,” he repeats quietly, as if that’s the most important word she said. “Of course.”

Just like that, all the swagger and self-aggrandizement is gone, and he looks almost… sad. Like he knows what’s going to happen to him just as well as Rilla does.

She feels almost sorry for him. “If you want to get out alive, this is your last chance to run.”

“No,” he says, not turning away from the oncoming storm. “There is only one way this ends.”

In the next moment, he’s gone.

The moment he’s out of sight, Rilla descends on the bars of her cage, bending back each of the wicked spines one at a time, then yanking at the thick woody stems until they start to budge. This enclosure is meant for something bigger than her– one of those giant rats, maybe– and she doesn’t have to move the bars far before she’s made enough room to slip through.

She can hear the sounds of confrontation outside– first declarations and then shouting, the twang of bowstrings, the cries as blood is spilled into the swamp.

She grabs one of the lizard’s knives off the wall and takes off running. If anything happens to Damien, she swears she’s going to skin that lizard herself–

But she doesn’t have to.

By the time she sets foot outside, the lizard is on the ground, already up to his waist in swamp water. He looks up at Damien, almost pleading, as the Knight of the Citadel draws back the bowstring.

His only act of mercy is in how fast the arrow pierces the beast’s heart.

”Sir Angelo, are you sure you don’t need me to take a look at you?”

“Nonsense,” he declares, all bluster as usual. “I’m made of stronger stuff than a few little swamp nettles. Ha!” Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “Besides, I was merely the second in the duel. The fight and the victory were all Sir Damien’s!” He claps Damien on the back with one enormous hand. “And I still owe you a drink for that. Don’t think I’ve forgotten. But first I must make a report to the Queen for us both.”

“Yes, thank you,” Damien says.

“Take good care of him, Rilla,” Sir Angelo says, and he rides off, his horse’s hooves leaving divots the size of dinner plates in their wake.

“As for you,” Rilla says, rounding on Damien. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” She shepherds him into her hut and onto a bench, and he sits while she gathers supplies. A good deal of the furniture is broken and several of her jars of medicines are smashed, but she manages to find enough to work with. “How are you feeling? Dizzy at all? Lightheaded?”

“No,” he says.

“How about drowsy? Cold?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” She sets down the supplies and lays her hand against his forehead. There’s grit from swampwater and dried sweat, but he doesn’t feel clammy or chilled. His skin doesn’t look particularly pale or ashen, his breathing is normal, and if his pupils are a bit enlarged, it’s no more than is normal for the dim light of her hut. “As much as that monster cut you up, I’d half expect you to be in shock. You’ve lost a lot of…blood.”

She frowns.

He hasn’t, though. She didn’t notice it before, but now that she’s up close and really looking for it, the cuts look oddly… clean. Sure, there’s a bit of bleeding, but not nearly as much as there should be.

“I’m alright,” he says.

“Are you, though?” She collects a few blood samples and sets them aside. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“I’m tired from the fight,” he says, which is maybe the longest sentence he’s said since he killed the monster.

And that’s just it: usually after Damien’s killed a monster, he spends the next few hours immortalizing it in poetry and telling anyone who will sit still long enough to listen. He gets excited. He gets giddy. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him go quiet like this.

So what makes this monster any different from all the others?

Only one thought really comes to her mind. She mulls it over in silence while she cleans and binds his wounds.

“Damien,” she says quietly, “if you’re worried about me, don’t be. You saved me in a nick of time, just like I knew you would.”

His expression doesn’t change. So maybe that’s not what’s going on in his head.

She tries again. “That monster… it recognized you, when you came to rescue me.”

He looks up, but his expression is unreadable.

“Was that the monster you were going to duel? The one who stole your tranquility?”

His tone is carefully neutral. “Yes.” He doesn’t elaborate.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shrugs as best he can while she’s wrapping the gash on his shoulder. “The beast is dead. What more is there to say?”

It’s such an awful non-answer that she wants to shout, but she keeps her voice soft. The last thing he needs right now is for her to lose her patience. So as soon as she finishes wrapping his shoulder, she tries another approach.

“Listen, Damien. When the monster took me, it was because of something I found in the woods while I was out with Marc. It had nothing to do with your duel.” She takes his hand in hers. “What happened isn’t your fault.”

“No,” he agrees. “The only one to blame was the lizard. And now he’s gone.”

And maybe Rilla would say something to that, but her attention is drawn to Damien’s hands.

Strange. Normally she has no problem feeling his pulse racing under his skin, but now his heartbeat is calm. Weirdly calm. The only beat she can feel is the drum of hooves approaching outside.

“That will be Sir Angelo,” Damien says.

“Damien–”

He pulls his hand back. “Thank you for worrying about me, but I really am alright. All I need is a little rest.”

And maybe a night out with Sir Angelo is what he needs. Maybe Rilla’s too spooked right now to take his pulse properly. Maybe a night of rest will be good for both of them.

She lets him go. After all, she can check up on him again tomorrow.

Or she could check up on him again, if Damien would come by. But the next day comes and goes, and he doesn’t.

When she stops by the keep the day after that, she’s told that he’s away on another mission, because apparently the Queen never heard of giving her knights time to recover from their injuries.

She can’t get a hold of him the day after that, either, or the day after that. It’s almost a week before she sees him again; by then his injuries from the lizard are nearly healed, and a fresh batch has taken their places.

But he’s still quiet.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asks.

“Of course,” he says.

“You needn’t worry,” he says.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he says. “It was just a monster. I’ve killed hundreds just like it.”

And he always answers her just like that: in short, dry sentences that wouldn’t be out of place coming from the tight-lipped baker down the street, but this is Damien.

She’s still concerned about his weak heartbeat. She tries to take his hand casually, to check his pulse without making a big deal about it, but she can’t.

Not because she still can’t find his pulse point, but because she can’t hold onto him long enough to try. He keeps pulling away– and not in a way that feels conscious, either. It just seems like as soon as he’s holding his hand, he thinks of something else he’d rather be doing with it. There’s always an itch to scratch, a shirt to adjust, a bit of lint to pick away. She might not even have noticed if she weren’t trying so hard, but now that she’s paying attention, it seems almost deliberate.

But it isn’t. She can see in his eyes, he doesn’t even notice that he’s doing it.

A week ago he held her hand like it was a treasure. Now he barely lets her touch him at all.

Something is wrong.

Except it isn’t– not in a way that she would accept if she was hearing all of this from a patient. Because there aren’t real symptoms, so much as a general feeling of unwellness.

By all means, Damien is fine. He’s still going about hunting monsters and patrolling the jungle. That hasn’t changed. If anything, he’s even better at it than before. And when she asks, Damien insists that he isn’t distressed or unhappy at all. By all means, he feels perfectly fine.

But he’s not fine.

These days, Rilla is lucky to see him twice a month. His visits are always short and awkward, like he doesn’t know what to talk about. When he works himself into a panic, he doesn’t let Rilla hold him or sing to him– he just storms away on his own. He doesn’t speak his heart– he hasn’t since that night they spent dancing under Saint Damien’s Bells. He hasn’t asked her again when they’ll be married.

He hasn’t mentioned it at all since then, actually.

At night, Rilla reads Damien’s old poems by the light of a candle. He’s sent her so many over the years– some so bad they’re a little bit ridiculous, some overblown and tedious, some awkward and forced– but they’re all so very Damien that it makes her heart ache.

Saints above, she misses his poems. Even the damn odes.

“You know,” she says when she manages to catch a few moments alone with him. “It’s been a while since you’ve brought me any new poetry. Have you been working on anything?”

He looks at her like she’s gone mad.

“What are you talking about?” he asks. “I don’t have time for such things.”

When Rilla arrives at the barracks for her meeting with Damien, she’s less surprised to find that he’s gone than she is at her own lack of disappointment. She’s stopped hoping that he’ll make time for her.

The realization leaves her uneasy.

“Rilla, it’s good to see you!”

At least someone’s happy she’s here.

“Hello, Sir Angelo,” she says, trying to smile before he lifts her off the ground in a bear hug.

“How are you?” he asks when he puts her down. “I can make you some tea, if you want. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“It really does,” she says, sitting at the mess hall table while Sir Angelo fusses over the tea. “Not since I made you that antidote to the cockatrice venom, right?”

“That sounds right to me.” He pauses. “I hope you weren’t looking for Sir Damien. He’s off on another monster hunt. There really is no stopping that man.” He says it jovially, but it’s missing most of his usual bluster.

“It certainly seems to keep him busy,” she says, mostly to make conversation. “Honestly, I’m surprised I caught you in. If you’re not careful, he’ll break that tie of yours.”

Her stupid joke feels a lot less funny when she sees the look on his face.

“Oh, that? Ha.” She doesn’t know the last time she’s heard him sound subdued. “That tie was broken ages ago. Damien really is the greatest knight in the Citadel. Really, I’m surprised he didn’t mention it to you.”

“Did something happen?” Rilla asks. “I’m sure it doesn’t count if you were hurt–”

“Oh, no, nothing like that.” He offers her a cup of steaming green tea. “I just lapsed in my efforts, that’s all.”

Rilla frowns. “That doesn’t sound like you. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“It’s nothing like that.” He shrugs his enormous shoulders uneasily. “It’s true that our rivalry used to be one of my greatest pleasures, but it just isn’t much fun anymore.”

When he sits beside her, the bench creaks in protest.

“Damien’s ruthlessness is becoming legendary, you know,” Sir Angelo continues. “It feels like the jungle is almost empty. There aren’t any monsters left alive for miles.” He hesitates. “It’s a little eerie.”

Rilla takes a sip. The tea is scalding hot, burnt just enough to be bitter.

“Sir Angelo?” she asks. “Does Damien seem… different to you lately?”

“Lately?”

“Since his duel with the lizard, I mean.”

Sir Angelo’s broad shoulders sag. “I thought it was only my imagination.”

“I don’t think it is.” Her grip tightens on the cup. “I think he might be sick. I know he doesn’t look it, but he had all those open wounds, and he was up to his neck in swamp water. Maybe he was affected by something. Maybe he’s got some kind of infection and I missed it.”

“If you say so,” Sir Angelo says, laying a hand on her shoulder. “But Damien was acting strangely even before his duel.”

She looks up. “He was? How?” When he doesn’t answer right away, she grabs his hand. “Angelo, please. The more I know about his symptoms, the better I can understand them. Maybe I can do something about it.”

“I… I’m afraid I don’t know,” he admits. “I think he tried to explain it to me, in his own way, but… you know I don’t have a head for such things.” He bits his lip. “But he did give me a poem.”

“A poem? What does that have to do with anything?”

“He said to give it to you if something happened to him. And…” He’s reluctant. “I suppose something did happen to him, didn’t it?” He gives her shoulder a squeeze. “He said it was supposed to explain something. Maybe it will help.”

Rilla reads the poem over a hundred times.

Not because it’s difficult to parse– if anything, he made himself pretty clear, especially compared to some of his older stuff– but because she has a hard time wrapping her mind around what he’s trying to say.

And when she does, she reads over it again, because this is it, isn’t it? This is his confession. His explanation. His goodbye.

This is the last poem Damien ever wrote her.

She keeps rereading it long after she’s committed it to memory, until her eyes droop and she nods off with the page still clutched in her hand and a few of the verses still floating through her head.

Lord Arum swears I have a monster’s eyes And now I fear that what he says is true That I’m one of the foul bests I despise Who loves a lizard as I cherish you.

For you alone my heart beats in my breast If not, then to Saint Damien I pray To pluck this loathsome traitor from my chest Before it leads me faithlessly astray

The moment Damien sets foot in the barracks, he finds Rilla sitting on his cot.

“Oh,” he says, only mildly surprised. “Rilla. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

He would look good, if she didn’t know better. His posture is impeccable, his form rugged and toned in ways she can’t deny is striking, his uniform just slightly disheveled in a way that just barely breaks regulation without being slovenly, his fresh scars are just right to accentuate his features.

But his face.

His face is smooth, unstretched by any strong emotion. His brows lie flat over his eyes. His smile is polite, but it feels like something plastered over a blank wall.

For the first few moments, all she can say is his name, and even that sticks in her throat.

“Was there something you wanted?” he asks, shutting the door behind him. “It’s been a long day. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get some rest.”

She shuts her eyes– then opens them again. She needs to see this.

“You can stop trying to hide it,” she says slowly, weighing each word like a ball of lead. “I know about Lord Arum.”

And that… that should mean something to him. He should be surprised, or shocked, or sad, or upset in any way at all. But he just looks curious. “What about him?”

After everything it took to make herself come here, is that all he’s going to give her? Is he this good of an actor?

“I know,” she repeats. And then, softer: “I know you were in love with him.”

“Ah. That.” Frustratingly, his expression doesn’t change. “And?”

What does that even mean? “Damien, you killed him.”

“Of course I did,” he says easily. “He took you, didn’t he? I thought you were grateful for that.”

“Is that why you’re–” She doesn’t even have the words for it. Does he blame her for what happened? Has he been holding it against her all this time? “I didn’t know. I had no idea. Angelo only gave me your letter yesterday.”

“He shouldn’t have given it to you at all,” Damien says absently. “I told him to destroy the thing.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” she demands. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why does it matter?”

“It matters because you were in love with him.”

“Yes, so you’ve said.“ His voice is cold and sharp as an iron blade, and just as impersonal. “And now he’s dead, and the problem is resolved. What exactly do you want from me?”

“I want you to talk to me,” she snaps, carried to her feet by frustration. “Damien, please. I understand if you’re hurting. I understand if you’re angry. I want to help you, if you’ll just tell me how. I’m begging you, just talk to me.” He steps away, but she takes him by the arm before he can pull away. “Please, just… just speak your heart.”

Nothing prepares her for the look of disgust that crosses his face.

There is no poetry left in him– everything soft and delicate has been carved away, leaving behind something jagged and hard.

“I’m a knight, Rilla. What use do I have for my heart?”

Her hand is tight against his wrist.

There is no pulse.

#the penumbra podcast #fanfiction #second citadel #do you remember me whining about sonnet structure a while back?#because this is why #100

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noirmornings-blog · 8 years

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Kanye West: Inside His Creative Agency DONDA

The brand the everyone wants to create but no one really knows what it is...

Kanye West’s first creative agency, DONDA, still remains as a mystery to most of us. They continue to crank out album covers and projects, but no one really knows who is exactly behind the work. Obviously, Virgil Abloh is down, but who else? VIBE discovered that a former Mercer Kitchen waitress by name of Hanna Christian was one of the first employees and helped hire others. However, she is no longer on-board. So who else is down? VIBE investigates…

The rest of the DONDA stable is virtually anonymous. And West has a tradition of cobbling together a rotating cast of collaborators, which makes it tough to distinguish who’s actually part of the core clique. Liner notes on Yeezus list Joe Perez as DONDA graphic designer and Justin Saunders as art director. Those who are believed to have worked with the company consistently include West’s longtime barber and style consultant Ibn Jasper, art directors Matthew Williams and Guido Callarelli and graphic designers Nathaniel Brown and Alex Milsom. Perez declined to be interviewed, and the others did not respond to requests. Before Abloh could even be contacted, he sent a pre-emptive refusal: “We appreciate the interest, but our staff is not doing interviews at the moment. If our stance changes, we will be in touch.”

BEFORE HANNA CHRISTIAN started working for Kanye West, she was a waitress at The Mercer Kitchen. The exclusive restaurant serves as the cornerstone of New York City’s Mercer Hotel, where West and Jay Z camped out in early 2011 to record their album, Watch the Throne. When West returned in October of that same year to take a series of meetings, Christian, then a 21-year-old college dropout and aspiring visual artist, struck up a conversation. For a week, West picked her brain about everything from architecture to fashion to art. He invited her to a Watch the Throne tour stop in New Jersey. She came back to work the next day raving about the elaborate stage design. Noted visual artist Es Devlin (a frequent West collaborator who’s also worked with Lady Gaga and Rihanna) projected video of sharks and Rottweilers onto enormous cubes that doubled as podiums for West and Jay Z during the show. After gushing about the design elements, Christian went for broke. “I love The Mercer,” she blurted out to Kanye. “But I want to work with you!”

Christian was hired on the spot as West’s personal assistant. And within 24 hours, she was attending the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show at the Lexington Avenue Armory in NYC. Three months later, he announced his latest venture, DONDA, an experimental design agency named for his late mother. Christian transitioned to office manager, interviewing applicants and helping to build the company’s early infrastructure.

She’s bubbly and effusive when she talks about her big break into the entertainment industry. But when asked something seemingly as innocuous as where the DONDA offices are located, Christian shuts down. “I can’t talk about it,” she says firmly. “It’s in my confidentiality agreement.” A confidentiality agreement with a clause about office headquarters? Sounds ludicrous. But no one does private and mysterious like Kanye West. And for a potential entity born out of one of his legendary Twitter rants, it almost makes sense. Almost.

In January 2012, West laid out a series of tweets, highlighting his plan to create a firm with more than 22 departments staffed by a bevy of experts in divergent fields. He name-checked everything from architects, video game developers and nutritionists to doctors, lawyers and what he called “app guys,” plotting to house them under DONDA.

His master plan reads like a stream-of-consciousness riff that becomes an epically ambitious screed (think Jerry Maguire’s infamous manifesto). There will be summer school programs with filmmaker Spike Jonze! An overhaul of the prison system! Nutritional consultation on achieving energy balance! Amusement parks! West tweeted: “We want to create, advertise and produce products driven equally by emotional want and utilitarian need.”

The kicker was that he intends to not just turn a profit or join the billionaire’s club. He wants to change the world through design and fill the void of late Apple cofounder Steve Jobs. A bit extreme, sure. But Kanye’s bombastic statements are expected. And for a man who secretes naked ambition and pretentious overtones from his very pores, it almost makes sense. Almost.

DONDA may sound slightly absurd, but the idea wasn’t completely random. Even before his Twitter proposal, he fantasized about launching a creative clique to those in his inner circle. In 2008, during a New Zealand press conference promoting 808s & Heartbreak he talked about building art installations. Four years later, he aimed even higher. “I want to work on cities [and] amusement parks,” he said while premiering his short film, Cruel Summer, at Cannes Film Festival. “I want to change what entertainment experiences are like.”

Kanye’s fight for creative control is long-standing. Collaborators describe him as a hypercritical presence on photo shoots and film edits. So it’s no surprise that with DONDA, he was looking to circumvent middlemen who might dilute his vision. “They wanted to eliminate the person who has to interpret the idea to the brand,” says Marc Moran, who cofounded the Chicago-based RSVP Gallery with West’s longtime right-hand man Virgil Abloh.

Post-rant, West moved quickly. Just a day after the online proclamation, his attorney Brad Rose filed the first trademark papers for DONDA. The list of goods and services sounds more profit-based than the good works and lofty world improvement goals in his mission statement. Expect to see the DONDA name on “toys and playthings, plush toys, teddy bears… home furnishings, bedding and linens…”

He also tweeted an e-mail, [email protected], for like-minded aspiring trailblazers to pledge DONDA. Thousands of applicants poured in, according to Christian, who left the company in May 2012 and now works as a creative assistant for actor Jason Sudeikis. “We moved forward with quite a few people who submitted portfolios,” she says, refusing to reveal who made the cut.

Essentially a future funnel for West’s obsession with his legacy, DONDA is poised to be the ultimate vanity project. And yet, he barely references it by name. Rather than a string of credits on an official Web site, DONDA projects are denoted by album liner notes, cryptic tweets, hashtags and Instagram photos (“NUMBERS ON THE BOARDS. NO ARTWORK. DONDA,” @virgilabloh) from his inner circle. Will this mysticism carry on to a true vision with results? Some experts are doubtful.

“When [Kanye] talks about Apple and those other companies, [he] has a very clear mission or statement in mind,” says Andres Nicholls, a partner in the brand and marketing consultancy Prophet, which lists GM, BMW and Visa as clients. “I tried to find a Web site. I couldn’t find any. He needs to formalize the vision of the company if he wants to expand to a broader consumer.” In addition to no website, DONDA no longer has a brick-and-mortar presence. Christian followed up her interview several weeks later to give an update on the DONDA office in New York: it no longer exists. “When I was there, we were just starting to set up shop, so I’m not surprised that so much has changed since I left.”

Expanding to a broader consumer may prove difficult for West, considering his desire to keep everything he does under tight wraps. During a June listening session for his newest album, Yeezus, at New York’s Milk Studios, a black van was parked outside, projecting a video of Kanye (shot by his go-to director Nick Knight) rapping the lyrics to his single “New Slaves” onto the side of a building. The screenings were part of a larger, international guerilla-marketing scheme— Kanye’s idea—that initially took place in 66 cities. When pressed for info on the installation, a woman operating the video offered a non-committal smirk and riddled responses:

Are you a member of DONDA? “We don’t have any input in the content. We’re just hired to project it,” she said.

What’s the name of the projection company? “I’d rather not say.”

Did Def Jam or DONDA hire you? “I’d rather not say.”

Following West’s lead, the DONDA collective hasn’t done interviews regarding their affiliation. LinkedIn profiles and liner notes help piece together a rough masthead, but there’s no clear consensus on who’s involved. One source suggested finding Virgil Abloh because “he is DONDA.”

Abloh’s credited title has varied from head creative director to art director for DONDA. It’s easy to see why the Chicago native and former architect would be Kanye’s right-hand man when it comes to DONDA. Abloh has the holier-than-thou hipster vibe down cold. He’s a Birkin-bag-carrying dude who owns a clothing boutique that sells $200 T-shirts. He drops obscure style references, like waxing poetic about the genius of German industrial designer Dieter Rams.

Whoever’s pulling the strings, the overall theme seems to be minimalism. And so far, DONDA’s work still falls in the domain of hip-hop: album artwork stage sets (West’s Atlantic City Revel Resort shows); promotional apparel; and visuals for Ye’s G.O.O.D Music compilation, Cruel Summer. With the interactive video for West’s “Black Skinheads,” DONDA has been focusing on multimedia projects. They were also hired to re-edit the trailer for The Canyons, starring Lindsay Lohan.

The DONDA-designed cover for I Am Not a Human Being 2 spotlights a lone butterfly on a black background. And instead of a cliché mean-mug close-up, 2 Chainz’s Based on a T.R.U. Story features two chains draped over a black backdrop. Some say the DONDA design style currently on display is a brilliant respite from hip-hop’s often-aggressive literalism. Some say it’s basic. “Because hip-hop has been so literal, esoteric things excite people. But it doesn’t mean that it’s good,” says Joseph Buckingham, aka Joe Buck, a graphic designer whose album artwork includes the classic De La Soul Is Dead cover. “That seems to be the trend now, to just be beyond hip-hop. Kanye plays that game well.”

The abstract approach can be vexing for the executives who write the checks. “The label wants to go with what’s obvious and marketable,” says Courtney Walter, a creative director who’s designed packaging for Chris Brown (Fortune) and Miguel (Kaleidoscope Dream). “If it’s conceptual, sometimes you’re pushing boundaries that make more of a statement than you need to.”

West is already barreling full steam ahead with his own music. Yeezus is the musical equivalent of a splash painting. From the anti-packaging to the loony American Psycho–inspired commercial starring two Kardashian family affiliates. He does what he wants (and more importantly, corporate bigwigs allow him to do what he wants) because it’s profitable. Kanye’s audience is built-in and primed to respond to whatever he’s pumping out, even if it’s a pair of $245 Nike Air Yeezy’s, which once sold for $90,000 on eBay.

“Marketing is usually so much about ‘reach,’” says Patrick Ehrlund, creative director of B-Reel, the company that produced West’s 2012 commercial for the Cruel Summeralbum. “Because Kanye West is such a strong brand, you don’t necessarily have to worry about reach, because it will always reach people. So it’s about how you affect people. Visuals have become a much more permanent and visible part of hip-hop. I think it’s amazing that artists are exposing people that might not be exposed to these kinds of artistic things.”

It may be unrealistic to expect DONDA to run like a traditional business and actually attempt to attract media attention. Especially since Kanye has become more paranoid about his message being misinterpreted. The true test will be marrying his laissez-faire approach with the eventual need to gain investors if he’s serious about turning DONDA into a conglomerate.

“From a funding point of view, it can be a challenge when you have people who aren’t used to thinking outside the box,” says Jessica Irish, director of academic affairs at Parsons’ School of Art, Media and Technology.

West’s ambition to succeed Apple is clearly a stretch. But he may have the ultimate business consultant in Steve Wozniak, who cofounded the iconic tech brand with Jobs. They met this year and discussed Kanye’s top-secret plans. When contacted for comment on DONDA, Wozniak stated via e-mail: “I have opinions about it, but they would be personal between myself and Mr. West.”

West isn’t alone in his determination to push the margins of the entertainment industry. From Nicki Minaj and Drake to Jay Z and Pharrell, rappers are expanding their résumés beyond endorsements and fragrances. Ten years ago, vanity labels and clothing lines were compulsory. Now, it’s about creative direction for major brands. West can certainly transform DONDA into a lucrative movement. He’s defied odds before.

In February 2012, four months after the lukewarm reception to his women’s collection, West started work on the first official DONDA endeavor—the Cruel Summer short. He commissioned three design firms and a post-production company and scored funding from the Doha Film Institute in the Gulf state of Qatar, where the film was shot. The team spent four months constructing an unprecedented seven-screen display and a white tented pyramid to contain it.

That May, his 30-minute movie about a car thief and an Arabian princess (He even consulted with a local Arab woman on wardrobe) screened at the Cannes Film Festival. The verdict from most media outlets: flawed, but ambitious. The movie has yet to be released on DVD or screened anywhere outside of Cannes. It hardly matters. Kanye pulled it off, and his first step to achieving what he wants with DONDA was complete.

Whether DONDA becomes another told-you-so moment or a pipe dream remains to be seen. Limitations exist in the corporate world, but from the looks of it (the ambiguous anti-business business plan), West wants to see just how much he can break the rules. As DONDA progresses, he’ll have disciples and cynics, either blindly following or silently skeptical, but never counting him out.

Story By Clover Hope

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mastcomm · 5 years

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It’s Almost Fashion Month! Here’s What to Know

It is often said that when President Trump eventually leaves office, reporters will be in a state of confusion, so accustomed are we to a constant stream of tweets and announcements that send us scurrying to report or fact-check or tear tufts of hair out multiple times in an hour.

Faced with a normal news flow, we will all be like Neo in “The Matrix,” turning his head ever so slowly to avoid a flying bullet, thinking “Wow, what’s taking it so long?”

Know what I mean? Well, that’s what it’s going to be like in fashion this season.

We have gotten so used to the ever faster cycles of creative director change at brands in the four big fashion capitals — New York, London, Milan and Paris — so used to “She is in! and He is out!” and “They are changing cities!” that a return to the status quo seems like a return to a sort of stasis. And the fall women’s (and some men’s) shows, which begin on Friday and roll from country to country until early March, will be a relatively calm season, one marked (especially in New York) more by what isn’t there than what is.

But just because nothing extreme is happening this season, does not mean nothing is happening at all: Don’t mistake subtlety for insignificance. Indeed, this may be good practice in slow thinking for us all.

Here are the three big trends to watch, when you aren’t distracted by watching the news.

1. Designer Liberation

The much ballyhooed announcement last season by Tom Ford, chairman of the Council of Fashion Designers of America, that he was tightening the show schedule seems to have had a knock-on effect on brands. A number have dropped off the calendar entirely, either because they are switching seasons, swapping cities or have decided they will simply sit this one out.

Kerby Jean-Raymond of Pyer Moss started the trend last year, when he ditched a February show in favor of consolidating budgets and ideas and doing a big production in September. (And it was a big production.)

He is doing it again this season, as is Tomo Koizumi, the designer who made waves with his over-the-top ruffled confections; as is Batsheva Hay, the designer whose covered-up performance art/shows have involved psychoanalysts meditating on the meaning of her clothes; as is Ralph Lauren, who after building Ralph’s Club last fall and inviting Janelle Monáe to play, has apparently decided you either go big or hang out at home — and he’s hanging out at home.

Telfar Clemens took his show/traveling band of creative brothers to the Pitti Uomo trade fair in Florence in January; Jeremy Scott just announced that he is moving to Paris in July; Tommy Hilfiger is taking his traveling #TommyNow circus to London; and Tom Ford (yes, that same guy who is supposed to be the figurehead of the industry) is having his show in the middle of New York Fashion Week in … Los Angeles. Because, you know, Oscars.

If ever there was a clearer message to his constituency that, these days, it’s every brand for itself, I don’t know what it is.

Steven Kolb, the chief executive of the CFDA, pointed out that there are still 70 shows taking place over five days, which is true, and they include such New York stalwarts as Marc Jacobs, Michael Kors and Oscar de la Renta. Plus, Rodarte is back!

But the brands that are not showing are the brands that are redefining American fashion most conspicuously. So what exactly does this say? Maybe that it really is time to let the old ways die.

2. The Embrace of an Ecosystem

It may be a quiet season, comparably, but there are still a few debuts to look forward to, one of which has potentially wider implications. In Paris, Felipe Oliveira Baptista is stepping out for the first time as creative director of Kenzo, and at Celine, Hedi Slimane is having his first dual-gender show. (At Gucci, meanwhile, Alessandro Michele is separating the sexes again.)

In Milan, Christelle Kocher of Koché will be the guest designer of Pucci. She will be doing her interpretation of the house for onetime only. According to Pucci, instead of committing to a single creative director, it is going to ask different names to put their stamp on the house each season, kind of what Moncler does with its Genius line.

And since we’re on the subject of Genius: Its Next Big Collaborator will be Jonathan Anderson — a.k.a. the designer of Loewe. It’s going to be fun to see what he does with technical outerwear. Rimowa is joining too, for luggage.

(Eyes will also be on Moncler since rumor has it that the company has been in discussions with Kering, which may be interested in acquiring the Italian brand; similar rumors surround Prada.)

This multi-creative approach wouldn’t work for every brand, but for a house that is more known for product — a puffer! a print! — than aesthetic innovation, it’s potentially a win-win for us all.

3. And Speaking of Eco …

Sustainability. Upcycling. It was the biggest news out of last season — there was even competition to see who could claim to be the first carbon-neutral show — and it will probably be only more omnipresent this time around. To wit, the opening day of fashion month will coincide with a panel discussion in New York called “Responsibility in Fashion: How Can We Do Better Together?”

In Milan, the Camera della Moda, which organizes Italian Fashion Week, is avoiding all plastics, printing all documents on recycled paper, and working with the city to promote … bike riding! (Among other things, though when it comes to the bike initiative, it hasn’t yet addressed the stiletto issue.)

After years of side-talk around the issue for fear of being accused of green-washing, fashion now wants to put it on every table, and every runway. Expect more use of dead stock and remnants, more activism (either wearable or behind the scenes) and more fabrics made from … fruit! Or other organic materials like pineapple and bamboo. Soon we will be able to eat our closets.

Along with diversity — of race, but also body, age and physical disability (though the latter often gets overlooked) — it is the most important shift going on in the industry.

Other questions to consider: Will the coronavirus impact everyone flying from city to city? Will the fact that Brexit has finally happened affect London Fashion Week? Will there be yet more strikes in France?

We’re on the edge of our seats.

from WordPress https://mastcomm.com/its-almost-fashion-month-heres-what-to-know/

#Life style

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gamerzcourt · 6 years

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Revisit GameSpot Theatre At PAX Aus 2018!Revisit GameSpot Theatre At PAX Aus 2018!video games

New Post has been published on https://www.gamerzcourt.com/revisit-gamespot-theatre-at-pax-aus-2018revisit-gamespot-theatre-at-pax-aus-2018video-games/

Revisit GameSpot Theatre At PAX Aus 2018!Revisit GameSpot Theatre At PAX Aus 2018!video games

GameSpot Theatre returned to PAX Australia in Melbourne in 2018, with a swath of panels to inform and entertain. We had some cracking panels featuring Hitman 2, Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, Pete Hines from Bethesda, and more!

If you weren’t able to visit us at PAX Aus in person, you can watch all the action via on-demand video right here!

For all of our PAX Aus content, be sure to visit the event hub!

Table of Contents [hide]

Friday, October 26 (All Times Are AEDT)

11:30 AM – The Ultimate Super Smash Bros. Panel

1:00 PM – Let’s Hack A Video Game!

2:30 PM – Voice Actor Showdown

4:00 PM – Hitman 2: Six Million Ways to Die…Choose One

5:30 PM – Zelda Universe Presents: Ocarina of Time, 20 Years Later

Saturday, October 27 (All Times Are AEDT)

10:30 AM – What?! Pokémon is Evolving!

12:00 PM – Lee Carvallo’s Simpsons Game Reviewing Challenge

1:30 PM – This Year’s Indie Game-Changer

3:00 PM – Super Smash Bros. Ultimate Let’s Play

4:30 PM – We Rate Video Games Dogs

Sunday, October 28 (All Times Are AEDT)

10:30 AM – Getting Started Painting Miniatures

12:00 PM – Why The Mainstream Media’s Reporting On Fortnite Is Dumb And Harmful

1:30 PM – Video Games, Ya Baw Bag

3:00 PM – The Great Port Resurgence

4:30 PM – One Perfect Game’s Mario Tennis Invitational 2018

Friday, October 26 (All Times Are AEDT)

11:30 AM – The Ultimate Super Smash Bros. Panel

Super Smash Bros. started off as a crazy experiment by Nintendo that morphed into a game of enormous scope—insanely spanning more than 30 game franchises and featuring third-party characters. With Super Smash Bros. Ultimate due out in December, join us as we rummage through Smash’s history, look at how it’s revived dead franchises, discuss what we want to see in the upcoming game, talk about how it has become a popular competitive fighting game, and learn a few tips from the pros.

PANELISTS: David Johnson [Publication Director, Zelda Universe], Shona Johnson [Project Manager, Zelda Universe], Cody Davies [Community Manager, Zelda Universe], Jack “Pudge” Gorman [Smash Tournament Organiser, Couch Warriors], Joshua “Sora” Lyras [Pro Melee player, ORDER], Nick “Extra” McKenzie [Pro Smash 4 player, Dark Sided]

1:00 PM – Let’s Hack A Video Game!

Have you ever wondered how you might go about breaking into a video game, and twisting its gross, hidden insides to your will? Join Lance McDonald (Warpchair), known for cracking open hidden Bloodborne and Dark Souls secrets, as he performs a live hack of PS1 horror classic Silent Hill using only cutting edge technology from 1999. We’ll show processes, talk methods, and answer your questions about video game hacking!

PANELISTS: Edmond Tran [AU Editor, GameSpot], Lance McDonald [Warpchair]

2:30 PM – Voice Actor Showdown

When it comes to building memorable characters in a game, what you see on screen is only part of the story. So what goes into creating an entire character with just your voice? We grill the experts on the voice acting process and put them through their paces recreating their favourite characters (and maybe a few new ones) live on stage.

PANELISTS: Claire Reilly [Senior Editor, CNET], Cissy Jones [Voice Actor, The Walking Dead, Firewatch], Courtenay Taylor [Voice Actor, Regular Show, Fallout 4]

4:00 PM – Hitman 2: Six Million Ways to Die…Choose One

Join IO Interactive’s Eskil Møhl for an hour of creative, murderous hijinks as he goes hands-on with Hitman 2. And he wants you, the PAX audience, to be an accessory!

PANELISTS: Eskil Møhl [Associate Game Director, IO Interactive], Edmond Tran [AU Editor, GameSpot]

5:30 PM – Zelda Universe Presents: Ocarina of Time, 20 Years Later

2018 marks the 20th anniversary of Ocarina of Time, a game that not only influenced the Legend of Zelda series for decades but also quite literally changed the video game landscape. We return to the polygons of the past and discuss how it shaped the industry, whether the game still deserves its accolades, whether it’s still relevant today, and if it’s been surpassed by more recent titles. There will be trivia with prizes for correct answers, so brush up on your knowledge of the game.

PANELISTS: Shona Johnson [Project Manager, Zelda Universe], David Johnson [Publication Director, Zelda Universe], Cody Davies [Community Manager, Zelda Universe], Sebastian Wilkinson [Contributor, Zelda Universe]

Saturday, October 27 (All Times Are AEDT)

10:30 AM – What?! Pokémon is Evolving!

Join a group of six Pokémon community leaders and competitive players, as they come together to talk about how the series has evolved since Red and Blue first fired upon our GameBoys. From how Pokémon GO helped revive the franchise to taking the next steps with Pokémon Let’s Go, Pikachu! & Let’s Go, Eevee!, to picking up some pro tips from actual champs on your road to competitive Pokémon Mastery, to maybe a few extra surprises, there’s no better place for Pokémaniacs to be this weekend.

PANELISTS: Emma Williams, Sam Pandelis, Russell Peters, Tiffany Keane, Alfredo Cheng-Gonzalez, Jesse Wilsone

12:00 PM – Lee Carvallo’s Simpsons Game Reviewing Challenge

You’ve seen plenty of reviews of real Simpsons games, but what about the fictional games of The Simpsons? How DO you Escape From Grandma’s House? What’s the best way to win Triangle Wars? Our panel of Simpsons Superfriends review the best Simpsons games that absolutely don’t exist… except in our cromulent imaginations. As they say in Bonestorm, “Come to this panel or go to hell!”

PANELISTS: Claire Reilly [Senior Editor, CNET], Lucy O’Brien [Games & Entertainment Editor, IGN], Mark Serrels [AU Editor, CNET], Edmond Tran [AU Editor/Senior Producer, GameSpot], David Milner [Editor, Game Informer Australia]

1:30 PM – This Year’s Indie Game-Changer

The Nintendo Switch hasn’t just revolutionised the way we play games, but also the games we’re open to playing. Indie games are seeing a lot of success on the hybrid console, so join a panel of Aussie independent game developers as they share their stories about how the Switch has changed the landscape, and share their favourite Nindies.

PANELISTS: Joe Park [Harmonious Games], Ash Ringrose [SMG Studios], Henrik Pettersson [The Voxel Agents], Matthew Rowland [League of Geeks], Eugenia Woo [Switch Focus], Edmond Tran [GameSpot]

3:00 PM – Super Smash Bros. Ultimate Let’s Play

Let’s keep this friendly! The biggest ever Smash Bros. game is coming soon. Very soon. So soon that we’re getting a whole theatre in on the training for its arrival! A Nintendo exclusive, come and check out panel teams take on Smash and the audience on the big screen!

PANELISTS: Edmond Tran [GameSpot], Jess McDonell [GameSpot], Mark Serrels [CNET], Dan Crowd [IGN], Shannon Grixti [Press Start], Eugenia Woo [Switch Focus]

4:30 PM – We Rate Video Games Dogs

Watch as we review some of the best (and worst) dogs in gaming. They’re good video game dogs, Brent.

PANELISTS: Mark Serrels [CNET], Stephanie “Hex” Bendixsen, Leah Williams, Goldie Bartlett, Amanda Yeo

Sunday, October 28 (All Times Are AEDT)

10:30 AM – Getting Started Painting Miniatures

Some of the most impressive board games and RPGs today bring us amazing miniatures. If you want to help bring your tabletop adventures to life but don’t know where to begin, start here and step into the world of miniature painting! Join us as we show you how to get started on your miniature painting journey, and take you through the simple steps to go from a bare model to your very first miniature masterpiece.

PANELISTS: Marc Chee [Marc Chee], Natalie Szymczak [Eva Studios]

12:00 PM – Why The Mainstream Media’s Reporting On Fortnite Is Dumb And Harmful

The mainstream media’s coverage of the popular battle royale game Fortnite has been discouraging. Over-the-top, sensational, and unsubstantiated stories are hurting gaming’s perception for the mainstream audience. Come watch a panel of experts discuss why that’s happening and what can be done about it.

PANELISTS: Alice Clarke [Herald Sun], Tim Biggs [Sydney Morning Herald], Chris Ferguson [Stetson Univesity], Raelene Knowles [IGEA], Eddie Makuch [Gamespot]

1:30 PM – Video Games, Ya Baw Bag

Can you guess what video game the angry Scottish man is talking about in his beguiling Scottish brogue? We challenge a host of Australia’s best games journalists. Can you understand a single word of what this guy is saying?

PANELISTS: Mark Serrels [CNET], Claire Reilly [CNET], Joab Gilroy [Red Bull], Jess McDonell [GameSpot], Dan Crowd [IGN]

3:00 PM – The Great Port Resurgence

Ports, remasters, and remakes of games are getting increasingly common. But how does a new version of a game change the way we see it and play it? We talk about the value and apprehension behind HD re-releases and Nintendo Switch ports, and try to come to a definitive conclusion of what works and what doesn’t.

PANELISTS: Pete Hines [Bethesda], Lee May [Defiant Development], Dean Woodward [League of Geeks], Jess McDonell [GameSpot], Edmond Tran [GameSpot]

4:30 PM – One Perfect Game’s Mario Tennis Invitational 2018

It’s time to lace up the Dunlop Volleys, string up the rackets and step on the court. Eight of Australia’s best and brightest streamers, podcasters and presenters will duke it out in a highly prestigious Mario Tennis Aces tournament in what is sure to be a smash hit. Come and help cheer your favourite gaming personality to glory!

PANELISTS: Matt Tilby [Podcaster/Presenter, One Perfect Game/Sabotage Media], Naysy [Twitch Broadcaster, Naysy (Twitch)], Vondle [Twitch Streamer/Influencer, Vondle], Maedi [Streamer/Marketing Manager, Hanabee Entertainment/Maedi], HolmesInFive [Twitch Streamer, HolmesInFive], JackHuddo [Partnered Twitch Streamer, JackHuddo], Alexander Foldi [Caster/Commentator]

GameSpot – All News

#2018Revisit #2018video #Games #GameSpot #Revisit #Theatre

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nishantwap · 6 years

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2018 Stanley Cup Playoffs - Ryan Reaves' journey from enforcer to Vegas Golden Knights hero

New Post has been published on https://www.hsnews.us/2018-stanley-cup-playoffs-ryan-reaves-journey-from-enforcer-to-vegas-golden-knights-hero/

2018 Stanley Cup Playoffs - Ryan Reaves' journey from enforcer to Vegas Golden Knights hero

11:58 AM ET

Emily KaplanESPN

WINNIPEG, Manitoba — There was a time, not too long ago, that Ryan Reaves wondered if the NHL wanted him anymore. The league has been turning to smaller and faster players over the past decade. Fighting has, organically, come out of vogue. Reaves — a thick 6-foot-1, 225-pound winger, the son of a professional running back, a player who earned his ticket through grit — began asking: Are hockey players like me becoming extinct?

For a few summers in the NHL, Reaves trained solely in the boxing ring. He’d spar for hours and “throw weights around so I could fight 250-pound guys,” he said. And then he realized: “Those guys are gone, so now I’ve got to get a little quicker. I’ve got to add a little skill to my game. You’ve got to be able to play and not take penalties, and contribute and play responsible in the D-zone.”

Vegas is in the Stanley Cup Final largely due to Marc-Andre Fleury. But who has been the best player in front of the veteran goaltender?

The expansion Vegas Golden Knights defeated the Jets 2-1 on Sunday in Winnipeg to punch their improbable ticket to the Stanley Cup Final.

With a Canadian-heavy roster and their style of play, the Golden Knights — not the Winnipeg Jets — should be Canada’s rooting interest.

2 Related

Looking back on his eight seasons in the league, Reaves says, “I had to adjust quite a bit.”

That’s how Reaves has survived in the NHL since 2007 at a time when not every team carries a player like him. That’s why at last year’s draft, the defending Stanley Cup champion Pittsburgh Penguins traded a first-round pick to the St. Louis Blues to acquire Reaves’ services. They wanted a protector for Sidney Crosby and their other skilled stars.

That’s also why it doesn’t always work out for the 31-year-old Reaves. For as hard as he’s worked to adjust, the truth is he’s still straddling two eras, which can make him feel hamstrung by expectations. The Penguins traded Reaves — who sometimes played less than four minutes per game — to the Vegas Golden Knights at this season’s trade deadline, less than a year into his tenure in Pittsburgh. And Reaves was scratched for the first nine games of the Golden Knights’ postseason.

It’s what makes Reaves the latest unlikely hero in this improbable Vegas playoff run. Reaves tipped in the game-winning goal in the second period of Game 5 against the Winnipeg Jets to send Vegas to the Stanley Cup Final. It was his first goal since Feb. 15. He hadn’t scored in the 26 regular-season and playoff games in which he suited up for Vegas. He has now played in 42 playoff games and has scored just one other time (in 2015 with the Blues).

And there he was, on Sunday night, walking up to the victors’ podium for a news conference alongside Marc-Andre Fleury, clutching a cardboard box of pepperoni pizza (half-eaten) with a grin on his face. He looked at the podium and said: “I can’t believe they even had one of these name cards made up for me.” Later that night, he found out his stick would be shipped to the Hockey Hall of Fame.

“Everybody on this team has something to prove,” Reaves says. “We call ourselves the Golden Misfits for a reason. We’re doing a good job of proving everybody wrong.”

After barely playing in the Golden Knights’ first two playoff series, Ryan Reaves scored the conference finals-clinching goal against the Jets. Jason Halstead/Getty Images

Reaves spent his first seven seasons with St. Louis. The move to the Penguins was as shocking to fans as it was for Reaves.

“In Pittsburgh, they never really carried a player like me. I don’t know if it was … they just wanted me around. But I wasn’t playing a whole lot, and here I was playing a lot more. It was more toward the minutes I was playing last year in St. Louis.”

Reaves’ regular-season average ice time with the Golden Knights was 9:55, far above his career average of 7:56. In Pittsburgh, there were 18 games in which he played six minutes or less. (It should be noted that in Game 5, Reaves played just 6:58, less ice time by far than any of his teammates). However, Reaves plays into a big theme for the Golden Knights this season, thanks to coach Gerard Gallant: Players have been given a bigger opportunity and freedom to explore their limits.

“He gave me no reason not to play him,” Gallant said. “That’s what I liked about him: He’s a character guy, he’s a leader guy. When he didn’t play games, he wasn’t sulking.”

Between the 2009-10 and 2013-14 seasons — spanning time in the AHL and NHL — Reaves fought 84 times, according to hockeyfights.com. Reaves has fought only six times this season — all before Jan. 1. He hasn’t engaged in a fight while with the Golden Knights.

Stanley Cup Playoffs Central » Schedule » | Experts’ picks »

Jump to a series: • TB-WSH | • WPG-VGS

Conference semifinal results: • TB-BOS | • WSH-PIT • NSH-WPG | • VGS-SJ

Round 1 results: • TB-NJ | • BOS-TOR • WSH-CBJ | • PIT-PHI • NSH-COL | • WPG-MIN • VGS-LA | • ANA-SJ

But Reaves has found other ways to contribute. He has skated well, he’s been active on the forecheck. As Gallant said, “he makes people make quick plays against him.”

He’s maintained his physicality — and his personality has meshed with the Golden Misfits who were there before him. When asked about going toe-to-toe with Winnipeg’s Dustin Byfuglien earlier in the playoffs, Reaves gushed about how much taller and heavier Byfuglien was than him. When asked if Byfuglien was the toughest player in the league, Reaves deadpanned: “I’m the toughest player in the league.” (He later conceded Byfuglien might be second.)

When asked about a hit on the Jets’ Blake Wheeler that sent Winnipeg’s captain over the boards, Reaves said: “It doesn’t matter who it is. Added bonus if it’s their captain.”

His quick wit and willingness to contribute — wherever, however — has made him a hit with his new linemates.

“He plays the game the right way,” Vegas alternate captain Deryk Engelland said. “First guy on every puck, he creates havoc down low on their D-men, he finishes every check, he creates room for his linemates, he’s going to go to the dirty areas to get the job done. To get that first goal in what, three and a half months? In the conference finals as the game winner? I couldn’t be happier for him.”

Not only has Reaves found a way to stay in this league, but he has become a beloved player on one of the NHL’s best stories. He was also a star in a Western Conference finals clincher — in the city he grew up in, where his father, Willard, won the Canadian Football League’s Most Outstanding Player Award in 1984 — and that’s something he’ll always be able to cherish.

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onenationprinc-blog · 6 years

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‘Game of Thrones’ season 8 is coming! Here’s everything we know so far

Tyrion Lannister (Peter Dinklage) and Daenerys Targaryen (Emilia Clarke) Macall B. Polay/HBO Game of Thrones might well be one of the most iconic television series of all time, and its impending conclusion has everyone wondering how the saga will end — and more importantly, which characters will be alive when the dust settles. HBO isn’t revealing anything to that end, but the show’s cast members have been sharing hints here and there. Some recent intel, which we’ll discuss below, came from Joe Dempsie, the actor who plays Robert Baratheon’s bastard Gendry. We know that some of you like to avoid spoilers and head in “blind,” so if that’s the case, you really should not be here. Turn back now! If you’re on the hunt for information and speculation, though, keep on reading. Here’s a comprehensive collection of news and rumors for Game of Thrones‘ eighth and final season. The Baratheon factor Even after seven seasons of Game of Thrones have wreaked havoc on the population of the Seven Kingdoms, there are still several characters with familial ties that could embolden them to at least try to claim to the Iron Throne, should they so desire. Among them is Gendry (Joe Dempsie), the bastard son of the late Robert Baratheon who returned in season 7 after multiple seasons of not being part of the story. The young blacksmith is sticking around and will be part of the show’s final season. Dempsie recently discussed his season 8 role with Digital Spy, and based on what he said, we could see a lot of him in the last six episodes. Gendry (Joe Dempsie) Helen Sloan/HBO Specifically, Dempsie said he has been filming “a fair bit” this season and that he’s “done well out of it this season.” Of course, he wasn’t willing to share whether or not that means Gendry survives until the end and did his best keep fans from reading too much into what he said. “As with all these things, we never shoot in chronological order — so you might have people coming in at the beginning and at the end, but it doesn’t necessarily mean they make it all the way through!” he told Digital Spy. Since returning, his character has come to ally himself with House Targaryen, in spite of the fact that he himself is the descendant of a former king (the usurper, at that). So far, he hasn’t shown any signs of envisioning himself in power, but we hate to rule anything out in this fictional world. As we all know, loyalty isn’t exactly a universal trait among the show’s characters. Whatever the case, though, the fact that Dempsie has done “a fair bit” of filming makes us think he will have an interesting arc in season 8. A loose end Perhaps not every Game of Thrones storyline will be wrapped up nicely by the end of the series. Actor Tobias Menzies made us wonder when he shared that he doesn’t expect to be included in season 8. His character, Edmure Tully, was last seen as a prisoner of Walder Frey (David Bradley) in season 6, but even after Edmure’s niece Arya Stark (Maisie Williams) took her revenge on House Frey, we never saw what became of the man or his wife and son. Even Menzies himself admits he has “no idea” what became of his character afterward. “He’s obviously somewhere in a prison,” he speculated, according to Digital Spy. “He’s still around alive somewhere.” The actor doesn’t know for sure, though. He described the show’s creators as “pretty stingy with their information. “I’ve not heard anything from them,” he said, adding, “I feel like they have so many stories to tie up, whether that’s a story they’ll want to go back to, I don’t know.” Making over a knight Jaime Lannister (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) Macall B. Polay/HBO It took Jaime Lannister (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) longer than anyone to see what a truly terrible person his twin sister-slash-lover is, but with his eyes finally opened in season 7, he left her and went to join the battle against the Night King. That marks a big shift as Jaime has long been loyal to House Lannister and Cersei (Lena Headey) herself. And in case that much wasn’t already clear, the turning point will be reflected in his appearance in season 8, according to Coster-Waldau. “There was a big change in the character, so a haircut is a way to signal that,” he told Short List. Be ready for a new version of Jaime in season 8, in more ways than one. Finale feelings During the INTV conference in Israel in March 2018, HBO revealed that a table read of the final few episodes of the series occurred with the Game of Thrones cast. The reaction to the reading was, as fans might expect, quite dramatic. “[It] was a really powerful moment in our lives and our careers,” recalled Francesca Orsi, HBO’s senior vice-president of drama, according to The Hollywood Reporter. “None of the cast had received the scripts prior, and one by one they started to fall down to their deaths. By the end, the last few words on the final script, the tears just started falling down. Then there was applause that lasted 15 minutes.” Only time will tell if those episodes prompt a similar reaction from fans. Ending, not endings? In September 2017, Casey Bloys, HBO’s president of programming, claimed Game of Thrones would shoot multiple endings to try to prevent spoilers. Supposedly, even the show’s stars wouldn’t know which was the real conclusion until the series finale aired. It seemed like a drastic plan, but perhaps not an unwarranted one, given the show’s history. Now, however, star Maisie Williams is causing fans to question Bloys’ information. When asked about it during an appearance on Jimmy Kimmel Live!, she seemed to discredit it. “Well, I heard this, and I immediately thought, ‘I don’t think we’ve got the budget to shoot lots of different endings,’” she told Kimmel. When the late-night host countered that Bloys’ role at the network puts him in a position to know if they can budget for it or not, Williams responded that “as we know, sometimes presidents don’t always tell the truth.” Of course, we can’t necessarily trust the actors, either. Remember how Kit Harington insisted that his character Jon Snow was really dead? The people connected to Game of Thrones will do whatever it takes to maintain secrecy, including lie to fans. That said, we wouldn’t be surprised if Williams was telling the truth. She also told Kimmel that they still have “endless amounts” of filming left to do, so it might not be realistic for the network to have the cast and crew take on even more scenes on top of that. Mark your calendar The premiere date for season 8 will likely fall sometime in April 2019, according to Williams, who plays Arya Stark. In an interview with Metro about her character’s return for the eighth and final season, Williams said, “We wrap in December and we air our first episode in April [2019].” “That’s a four-month turnaround for these huge episodes,” she explained. “There’s a lot that goes into the final edit. You would not want to rush this season at all. We owe it to our audience and our fans to really do this final season to the best of our abilities.” The gap between now and season 8 is dark and full of terrors HBO kicked off 2018 by officially confirming that season 8 will air in 2019, skipping 2018 ostensibly due to its lengthy production schedule. The confirmation was made by HBO’s public relations Twitter account. It's official: @GameOfThrones will return for its six-episode, eighth and final season in 2019. — HBO PR (@HBOPR) January 4, 2018 However, this timing was expected. Despite Bloys, HBO’s president of programming, being noncommittal as to whether season 8 would premiere in 2018 or 2019, Sophie Turner, who plays Sansa Stark, was adamant in an interview with Variety that the final season wouldn’t be airing until 2019. Turner made it clear that production still has a long way to go, initially joking that they’re only 10 percent of the way through shooting the six-episode final season. In actuality, they’ve made more progress than that. Production began in October 2017 and they have “six or seven months left,” according to the actress. Sansa Stark (Sophie Turner) and Jon Snow (Kit Harington) Helen Sloan/HBO Season 8 will be filming into the summer, based on the information from Turner, and that is not the end of the important work that remains. Game of Thrones is famous for its special effects, meaning it will need a lengthy post-production period (those dragons have to be added somehow). Even though it will take a long time, we expect to be grateful for the wait when we see it all come together. Tears already Sansa Stark (Sophie Turner) Helen Sloan/HBO Based on how Game of Thrones has gone to this point, we’re not expecting to get through season 8 without losing some fan-favorite characters. Yet no matter how the series ends, it’ll be emotional, both for its longtime viewers and the people who have brought it to us for so many years. Turner (Sansa Stark) told EW that the cast got together “a while ago” for a read-through of the final season, and they all ended up in tears. “At the end of it, we were all on our feet, applauding and crying,” she said. “We had everyone there, everyone who’s had any part in this. It was amazing.” The read-through sounds like it was an intense experience. They were all secluded in a room together for six hours, Turner said, and they laughed and cried their way through season 8. No wonder they were so keyed up by the finish. Once they got their tears in check, though, they realized they had a lot more work to do. “We had our emotional bit and then we thought, ‘Well now we’ve got eight months. We’ve still got a while to get through!’” Turner said. And unfortunately, that means eight-plus months we’ll be waiting … A covert casting Weeks after sharing a batch of casting notices for season 8, fan blog Watchers on the Wall is reporting that the role of Harry Strickland — leader of the Golden Company mercenaries — has been cast, with German actor Marc Rissmann tapped. Fans will remember that Euron Greyjoy (Pilou Asbaek) departed King’s Landing on Cersei’s orders in the final episode of season 7, intending to meet with the Golden Company and escort them back to Westeros, thanks to a large donation from the Iron Bank. Those who read the books know Strickland as a portly coward who lucked into his command; we don’t have any clue how he’ll be portrayed on screen, but Rissmann is … um, neither portly nor cowardly looking. Watchers’ source was Rissmann’s Spotlight CV and his agency, Hatch Talent. Interestingly, neither page now includes any information about Game of Thrones, which is unsurprising, given the massive effort put into preventing spoilers for HBO’s current crown jewel. Rissmann recently finished shooting for J.J. Abrams’ upcoming World War II horror story Overlord for Paramount. A survivor from the Wall? In the finale of season 7, the Night King made excellent use of his newly resurrected dragon, blasting down the easternmost segment of the Wall and allowing his undead army to march southward. Two prominent characters — Tormund Giantsbane and Beric Dondarrion — happened to be on top of the Wall as the dragon attacked, leaving us in the dark as to their whereabouts (or whether they even survived). We still have no idea about Beric, whose get-out-of-jail-free card disappeared when Thoros of Myr took an icy, permanent nap in the Beyond the Wall episode, but it does look like Tormund may have survived — if some sneakily-captured photographs are any indication. Fans noticed Kristofer Hivju, the actor who portrays Tormund, arriving in Belfast, Ireland, earlier this week (along with several other cast members, whose characters are definitely not dead yet) for a table read. Kristofer Hivju, Ben Crompton, Iain Glen, Isaac Hempstead, Kit Harrington, Emilia Clarke, John Bradley arrive in Belfast for the table read. pic.twitter.com/GJrZnhWN4X — Sergio (@iDexterDisciple) October 9, 2017 Some of the photos were quickly deleted from Instagram, but you can view the others in a tweet (see above). We don’t know what this means for Tormund — maybe all his “lines” are just White Walker grunts now — but at least it provides some hope for those anticipating a Tormund-Brienne… uh… union. Tormund Giantsbane (Kristofer Hivju) and Brienne of Tarth (Gwendoline Christie) Helen Sloan/HBO Steady hands HBO is putting the final season of its most popular series into the hands of four prominent directors with close ties to the hit show. The episodes that will make up Game of Thrones Season 8 will be directed by David Nutter, Miguel Sapochnik, and showrunners David Benioff and D.B Weiss, according to Mashable. Benioff and Weiss are expected to co-direct the series finale, but it’s unknown how many episodes — or which episodes — each director will handle. All four directors have helmed earlier episodes of the series. Nutter has directed six episodes, including the infamous “The Rains of Castamere” episode (also known as the “Red Wedding” episode) and the season 3 and season 5 finales, while Sapochnik has directed four episodes, including “Hardhome,” “The Battle of the Bastards,” and the season 6 finale. In addition to serving as the showrunners on the series, Benioff and Weiss have each directed one episode of the show, with Benioff responsible for season 3’s “Walk of Punishment,” and Weiss directing season 4’s premiere, “Two Swords.” A mysterious ending Jon Snow (Kit Harington) Macall B. Polay/HBO HBO is hoping to keep fans guessing about the conclusion of Game of Thrones season 8, and one way to do that, as mentioned above, would be by filming multiple endings. Bloys, HBO’s president of programming, claimed that was the plan while speaking to The Morning Call in September 2017. He indicated that even the show’s cast members wouldn’t know which ending is the real one until the episode airs. “I know in Game of Thrones, the ending, they’re going to shoot multiple versions so that nobody really know what happens,”Bloys said. “You have to do that on a long show. Because when you’re shooting something, people know. So they’re going to shoot multiple versions so that there’s no real definitive answer until the end.” Game of Thrones not be the first show to make use of such a strategy. The popular prime-time soap opera Dallas famously filmed multiple versions of the conclusion to its “Who shot J.R.?” story arc in the 1980s, while more recent shows such as Breaking Bad and The Sopranos also filmed several different endings for their respective series-ending episodes. Given that episodes from the last few seasons of Game of Thrones and other popular television series have also been leaked early by hackers, there’s reason for HBO to be concerned about the details of the show’s conclusion being revealed earlier than intended. Whether the multiple-ending strategy will actually be able to prevent story details from leaking in such a scenario remains to be seen. Spinoff city, baby Fortunately, the end of Game of Thrones isn’t expected to mean the end of shows set in the world of novelist George R.R. Martin’s “A Song of Ice and Fire” series. Multiple spinoff series are in various early stages of development for HBO, although it’s uncertain how many — if any — will go into production for the network. There’s no exact premiere date for season 8 of Game of Thrones at this point and the final season is rumored to consist of just six episodes. Each of those episodes could be a feature-length chapter in the show’s concluding story arc, though, if one particularly well-circulated rumor is to believed. Updated on April 5: Added information from actors Joe Dempsie, Tobias Menzies, and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau. Editors’ Recommendations https://www.digitaltrends.com/movies/game-of-thrones-season-8-news-cast-rumors/ https://blog.cyberprosocial.com/2018/04/05/game-of-thrones-season-8-is-coming-heres-everything-we-know-so-far/

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