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et-dah · 4 years

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The Demon Brothers: Creative Outlets Headcanons

they are all immortals and when you've lived longer than you can remember, you're bound to find a creative outlet to destress, alleviate boredom, or you know, to just have fun!

Lucifer

He’s a busy demon. If he’s not working, he's sleeping, or cleaning up one of his brother’s messes, so he doesn't have that much time to just relax and explore his creative sides.

That said though, it doesn’t mean he has no hobbies at all.

He plays the piano. He used to play it every morning, back when he’s still in the Celestial Realm, when he’d taught Lilith how to play the piano every morning and she’d sat besides him as his fingers moved across the keys slower so she could copy him.

Nowadays, playing the piano feels very nostalgic and bittersweet, but you’ll hear soft, bittersweet melodies drift from the music room once in a while.

He also composes his own music, but that's an even rarer occurrence. The last time he created a new music piece was centuries ago.

(Ever since MC came to Devildom though, he's been itching to write music for them.)

Practices calligraphy for fun. He has a whole set of brushes and ink and lettering pens. His handwriting is already beautiful but his calligraphy is even more amazing.

Another thing he does is gardening. He's got a great eye for landscape architecture, he's the reason why the house's backyard is pretty.

He plants decorative plants and likes to cross breed flowers so the House of Lamentation's backyard is full of pretty shrubs and unfamiliar flowers.

He is usually joined by Beel as he is the other brother that finds gardening very relaxing.

Mammon

He definitely shows his creativity by coming up with the most absurdly brilliant, out-of-the-box, original schemes to make money.

Mammon can draw, like really good. His drawings are very realistic. He prefers to use traditional media: charcoal pencils, graphite sticks, blenders, erasers, drawing pens, brushes, and maybe some watercolors.

He usually does architecture sketches.

But if you check his drawers, you’ll find several sketchbooks of his brothers in different candid poses. MC alone has taken up three whole sketchbooks. Mammon makes sure MC doesn’t see those sketches though.

Crashes Asmo’s Art Day regularly, claiming that if Levi’s invited then the Great Mammon should be too. Asmo and Levi always complains but they let him stay anyway.

Mammon also has a natural talent on jewelry making and metalwork. He makes jewelry from buttons, beads, pearls, diamonds, and crystals. From small pendants to elaborate neckpieces, simple anklets to ornate hairpins.

Mammon has made metal bookmarks for Satan because the book lover always misplaces his bookmarks or destroys them in fits of rage when he doesn't like a book's ending.

He sculpts wood. It takes him months to finish one small piece because he only does it when he's really, really bored, he prefers to make his much more profitable jewelry.

He keeps all of his sculptures in his room, small and detailed pieces of wood engraving of Devildom native animals lining up on one of the shelves.

Leviathan

This is canon but he draws! He doesn't think he's very good at it, but he really enjoys it.

Unlike Mammon who likes to draw with his charcoal pencils and drawing pens, Levi prefers to draw digitally. He still switch to traditional media now and then though.

Has a monthly scheduled “Art Day” where he and Asmo hang out together, Levi draws with his sketchbook or his drawing tablet and Asmo paints. They basically just gossip and hype each other’s art.

Dabbles in making short animations but feels like it’s just not something for him. He makes short comics though.

He wants to be able to make his own video game someday though. Maybe after he learns programming.

He makes the most detailed cosplay outfits for his own cosplays. He sews really good and patches his brothers clothes when they ask. Where do you think Asmo learns how to sew his own clothes from?

Really good at dancing and he really likes it too. He's a natural at it. From the most intricate traditional Devildom dances to freestyle dancing. He can make new moves on the spot and can copy any moves from one look.

He’s a shy baby though, you’ll rarely see him dance when he’s sober.

Except when he’s playing DDR (Demons Dance Revolution). Then, it’s like he’s the most confident demon in Devildom.

Satan

Satan writes poetry when inspiration strikes him. He has also written short stories but he always comes back to creating beautiful poems. He’s got a way with words.

Photography is something he has only recently taken interest in but he has a great eye for taking breathtaking shots.

Has become the family’s go-to photographer.

“Satan, take a picture of me and Mammon!” “Satan, take our picture, quick!” “Satan, help me get a picture for my Devilgram!”

He’s the reason Asmo’s Devilgram pictures always look like they’re taken professionally in a photo studio or something.

Satan loves art, likes to stroll through museums and stare at paintings for hours, but has little talent in creating them. Even so, he still likes to paint even if he's not good at it.

Sometimes he just wants to slap paint on a canvas and make a colorful mess. It's fun.

He joins Art Day every other month.

Another thing he does is knitting! It relaxes him. It gives him something to focus at when he's angry (um, angrier than usual), just to give his hands something to do that doesn't involve breaking anything. The simple patterns he makes are easy enough that they don't frustrate him.

Rarely ever finishes his knitting though, you'll just find this 5 meters long knitted fabric in one corner of his room with the ends coming undone because he calms himself down enough to stop knitting.

Asmodeus

Regularly designs, cut, and sew his own clothes.

Has a lot of sketchbooks full of drawings of flowy dresses and stylish coats and many aesthetically pleasing shirts.

He has started his own clothing line and sometimes collaborate with Majolish.

But for the most part, he designs clothes for himself and himself only, he doesn't want anyone else to wear clothes as fabolous as his.

Nail art? Nail art.

Asmo paints all of the brothers nails and sometimes he'll persuade one of them to let him do a complete manicure, with glitter polish and shiny studs and all.

Yes, even Lucifer. You just never see the results because Lucifer wears his gloves almost all the time.

Asmo creates beautiful makeup art. He doesn't really like a lot of makeup on his own face though, so his brothers' faces are his canvases.

He also has a great eye for interior decorating and flower arranging. He restyles his room every month.

Not many people know it but he paints. And he's very good at it. He has done a painting of each brother, the paintings can be seen on the walls of the House of Lamentation's hallways.

Art Day with Levi (and sometimes Satan or Belphie) is spent with him in front of canvases, chatting with his brothers, paint splatters on his hands. It's the only day that he doesn't mind looking a little messy.

Beelzebub

He cooks, of course! And bakes too!

It's one of the times he’s willing to wait to eat because cooking the ingredients first rather than just straight up eating them will make the foods taste better.

Half of the food in the kitchen are his creations. Anything he can make on his own from scratch, he will; jams, ice cream, sauces, juices, bread, chips, etc.

Likes to experiment and always do something different than the original recipes.

He garnishes his cooking like it’s something you order from a five star restaurant.

Beel is another demon who has a green thumb. He likes taking care of plants and doesn't mind getting a bit dirty doing it so gardening is another hobby of his.

If Lucifer plants ornamental plants, Beel grows useful plants like herbs and vegetables and small fruits. He's also good at topiary.

Always has an idea for a DIY project.

His creations is scattered all over the House of Lamentation. Belphie's drawer divider is made out of yogurt cups. Broken drawer knobs recycled into Asmo's jewelry organizer. The coat rack. The bathroom towel holder.

Even Lucifer's hanging Demonus rack is handmade by Beel when he's bored one weekend, with Mammon's help for the engraving decorations along the sides of the rack. Beel's got a bit of Bob the Builder in him.

He is very good at singing. His voice is clear and he has a broad vocal range. Has been caught unconsciously humming in class many times.

Has definitely sang Belphie to sleep.

Belphegor

Does his pranks counts as a creative outlet though?😂 Between him and Satan, Belphie's ideas are the most creative and out of the box, resulting on some of the best pranks they did.

Belphie does origami. It's relaxing, easy enough to learn, and doesn't take much effort and energy to do it.

Has stacks of origami papers in his room: standard origami paper, foil paper, traditional Washi ones, the leather-like Momigami paper, all kinds of paper.

He especially loves to make little origami stars and keeps them in glass jars in his room.

Belphie also has adult coloring books.

And kids coloring books.

Coloring is relaxing to him. It's very calming to just lay down and fills a page with pretty colors for a while. It's not a tiring way to destress, he can color without moving from his bed, and it feels satisfying when he finishes a whole page.

He sometimes joins Art Day if he's not too lazy to move. Still prefers to color alone where it's quiet though.

He also journals. It's another thing he can do that is inexpensive and not energy consuming. He writes about anything that comes to his mind, his thoughts, his ideas, memories.

Definitely keeps a dream journal.

Also I headcanon that as the Avatar of Sloth, sleep and dreams are some of the things he can manipulate. He enjoys creating dreams; the worldbuilding, the story, the details. He can be really creative when it comes to making them, spinning the most vivid and imaginative dreams.

They’re not necessarily good dreams though. After all, he is still a demon, his dreams will most likely mess up your mind than make you smile in your sleep.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #rol writes

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ladykissingfish · 3 years

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Highschool with the Akatsuki

*Modern-Day*

Hidan

Behavioral nightmare. Fidgets, drops things, disrupts others’ work, talks during study/quiet times. Has to be constantly reprimanded for his inappropriate jokes and foul language. Sent to the principal‘s office so much that he was asked his opinion when the man was choosing new carpeting. Most of his friends are exactly like him, so if they’re in the same class they have to be seated clear across the room from each other. Can be a good student when he TRIES; but doesn’t see the point in trying, so will just barely be passing his classes with C’s and D’s. Skinny jeans and Vans with open flannel shirts over white or black tank. Wears a necklace with strange symbol on it, when asked what it represents he’ll say “my religion” but won’t elaborate. In the bathroom between every class grabbing “a quick smoke”. Dyed his hair silver as a joke in the 6th grade, has kept it that way ever since.

Kakuzu

As serious as a heart attack, no matter the situation. Incredibly tall and with a stern face; is almost always mistaken for being the teacher by new kids. Has an impressive collection of “old-man” sweaters. The stingiest guy alive with a buck; will actually make you hand-write him an IOU slip over borrowing 50 cents for the vending machine. Decent in all subjects but a star in Economics. Has one or two “friends” but doesn’t seem particularly close to them (or anyone else for that matter). Doesn’t talk a lot in class but when he does it’s usually because he disagrees with a point the teacher is making, and he isn’t afraid to debate him or her until he’s acknowledged as being correct.

Deidara

Deidara is one of those people who needs constant stimulation to keep him engaged in whatever’s going on. Since school tends to involve a lot of tedious repetition, paying attention in class isn’t something he’s the best at. Most likely to “finish up” his homework assignments five minutes before class starts. Grades tend to fall in the B-/C+ range. The type to always pick a seat that’s in the back of the room and/or closest to the window. Has a sketchbook that he carries around with him wherever he goes. Style consists of ripped jeans over fishnets, combat boots, fingerless gloves, band t-shirts and oversized pullover hoodies. Super-long hair tied back in ponytail. One of the first (and only) people at school to *openly* identify as pansexual; gets asked out a lot but always declines everyone because dating “would interfere with his artistic process”. Doesn’t speak a lot in class unless the topic particularly interests him, in which case he will ramble on and on until politely stopped by the teacher. His table at lunch will always be full because others are drawn to his energy and charisma. The art room is his home away from home; on a first-name basis with the instructor.

Sasori

The smart, quiet kid. Tends to keep to himself and always appears to be in his own little world. Doesn’t ever seem to be paying attention in class, but when the teacher randomly calls on him, he has the right answer every single time. Always gets A’s but will get upset over a “low A” (in the 90-94% range). A good budgeter of time and will usually manage to get most of his homework done at lunch or during study hall. Has a (small) core group of friends and not looking to add to it anytime soon. Wears a lot of khakis and long-sleeved shirts or sweaters (even in the summer). Because of his organizational skills, technical mind, and proficiency in using tools, he excels in woodshop; often informally used by the teacher as an “assistant” to help other students with their projects. Absolutely hates gym (his small stature and delicate nature make physical exertion difficult for him); this will be the only class he doesn’t try for an A in, as he skips it as often as possible.

Itachi

Dear God, the girls ((and quite a few guys)) are crazy over this boy. Is thought of as being brooding, and mysterious ... and gut-wrenchingly handsome. Very quiet, rarely speaks in class, but when he DOES, it’s always something deep and profound. Top student grade-wise. Long dark hair and soulful eyes. Style is all black, distressed baggy pants with chains, long-sleeved band or anime shirts, boots, fishnet gloves, heavy silver bracelets and rings. Is polite to everyone but only has a handful of actual friends. Submits poems and short stories anonymously to the school paper; always gets published. Is occasionally persuaded by his teachers to volunteer as a student tutor; line will be literally out the door from people seeking his “help”. Has friends in the drama club so will go to every single school play to be supportive, even if all friend did was lighting or scenery.

Kisame

Tall and athletic; captain of the swim team. Isn’t the most handsome guy but popular because of his personality. Not really the best student, but keeps his grades up enough to be able to keep playing sports. Sweatpants, Nikes, and Letterman’s jacket. The type to step in when he sees somebody getting bullied. Has a secret love for Orchestra music and likes to sit outside the band room when it’s members have rehearsals. Friends with/friendly to absolutely everybody. Will go through more than one tray at lunch. Shines the brightest during gym class. Also a surprisingly good cook; will voluntarily take Home Economics as an elective and be one of the best bakers in the class.

Obito

Known around school as “that one guy with the mask”. Was apparently in a bad accident as a child that left the side of his face heavily scarred; adopted the practice of wearing solid-color face masks to cover damage. Teachers are made aware of his situation so no one ever tries to make him take it off; although he will do so at lunch, at a table of his close friends. Smart and articulate, everyone turns to look at him when he speaks in class. Tall and moves quickly (and silently); nobody ever knows he’s there until he’s right behind them. Dark jeans, boots and will always wear a leather jacket or trench coat, even on ridiculously hot days. Doesn’t laugh a lot but when he does, the sound of it could make anyone fall in love. A big eater of sweets; will always have some kind of candy on him that he will quietly slip beneath the mask and eat during class. When caught by teacher, will claim he had low blood sugar, and because he’s a good student otherwise he won’t be questioned further on it. The type to, at the beginning of the school year, sign up for a ton of after-school clubs, stay in them for a week, decide they’re boring, and duck out.

Zetsu

Oddball kid who sits by himself and talks to himself more than seems normal. Teachers have learned early on not to call on him in class, because he’ll just sit there and give them a silent, intent stare until they move on to someone else. Surprisingly good grades despite never talking/participating. Wears cargo shorts, T-shirts and sandals with socks, no matter the weather. Always goes outside in-between class periods; sometimes misses class altogether just to nap under a tree with his face in the sun. Eventually founds and is “captain” of the school’s gardening club; not many members but the ones that do join are very environmentally conscious, modern-day “hippies”.

Pein

Legitimately has like, 9000 piercings. There’s not an inch of this guys face that doesn’t have a shiny silver stud in it. Red and black seem to be the only colors in his wardrobe; lots of button-up shirts and zip hoodies. Has a ridiculously deep voice and is always super-intense, even when just hanging out with friends. In group projects, he’s always very quickly designated as the Leader. In his group of friends, it’s clear he’s the Leader. Not the best grades but above-average. Spends a lot of time with the blue-haired girl; it’s always rumored that they’re dating although both parties have claimed to be “just friends”. A terrifyingly persuasive arguer; joins and becomes star of the debate team within a week. The type to ask a very deep, pointed question during class and change the entire course of the teacher’s lecture.

Konan

The type to have a lot of close male friends but almost zero female ones. Tends to be the “mom” amongst her group. Excellent student, always the top marks in her class. A lot of admirers but always politely turns down potential suitors. Some piercings but nothing very extravagant. The school used to have a very strict rule about dying one’s hair “wild colors”, but she dyed hers blue and led a successful protest regarding freedom of expression. Her favorite class is literature, especially when they get to the Greek Mythology and Shakespeare units. Does origami as a hobby; when bored in class will sit and tear up bits of paper or napkins and create gorgeous little flowers. Clean and organized in every aspect EXCEPT for her locker, which is a (legendary) jumbled and unholy catastrophe.

#the akatsuki #headcanon #high school #hidan #kakuzu #deidara #sasori #itachi #kisame #obito uchiha #zetsu #pein #konan

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mundungs · 3 years

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ϟ. → robert sheehan : genderfluid : he/they/she : dealer of illicit objects and substances : the raven by the alan parsons project ϟ did you see mundungus fletcher ? you know , 31 year old halfblood who was formally in ravenclaw. some say dung can be quite furtive but are known to be unreliable. they are aligned with the order . maybe that’s why they remind me of naming stray cats, flicking a lighter over and over again, falling asleep on the subway. ϟ

some links for food

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ciannán o’donnell is a flighty man, one of many relationships and flings and little loyalty, and so his affair with maeve fletcher does not last long. when she tells him she is pregnant, he moves on to a different woman, and maeve has her son alone, with her sister on her side. and thus, mundungus is born (and giving an arguably atrocious name).

he grows up with his mum – a halfblooded witch and by far his favourite person in the world – in limerick, attending muggle school there. he knew who his dad was, but wasn’t quite sure how to feel about — his father is a criminal, a prominent member of the irish mob.

he meets his dad for the first time at age seven, and was nothing but impressed. his dad showered him with gifts, his mum watching with a furious look on her face but biting her tongue. that moment was a switch for mundungus; he felt the need to impress his dad. he stole some sweets from a store on his way home from school a week later, fished some pennies out of the pockets of his classmates a few months later. when he phoned his dad to tell him, his laugh was warm and filled with life. his relationship with his dad got better as his behaviour got worse. the thrill of stealing, of doing stuff he wasn’t supposed to, lit him not only on fire because it was exciting, but also because he knew his dad would adore it.

but ciannan, a flighty man, pushes and pulls. and so mundungus was fed disappointment by his father, liking love off a shiny knife rather than a spoon ( silver or plastic, what the fuck does it matter ). details omitted, long story made short: his dad sucks and his mother tries, but mundungus is pulled towards that what smells of danger.

DRUGS MENT. at hogwarts, dung is sorted into ravenclaw. not at all the booksmart type, he falls more into the chaotic-creativity, random-bursts-of-wanting-to-learn-everything-about-something type of ravenclaw. there’s two worlds, then: the muggle world, where he slowly dips his water further in criminal waters, and the wizarding one, where he’s chaotic and messy but a student. when he grows older, these overlap: dung starts selling some of his dad’s weed at hogwarts, and soon gains a reputation of being able to get people less-than-legal shit.

not getting high off your own supply is not a sentiment he agrees with. not then, not later, not now. dung is fun, always in for a party and willing to supply the goods to throw it. if some rich purebloods lose a few galleons at said party, well, it sure isn’t him! END OF TW

he graduates with two newts, in herbology and potions, failing his dada and charms exams. he’s not an academic.

falling into the family business after graduation is easy. mundungus is attracted by the criminal underworld, both that of muggle ireland and that of the wizarding world. knockturn alley was a place frequented in teenage years, but now becomes more his place. he makes connections, exchanges strange potion recipes for other things. makes an odd wager on a bunch of stolen brass scales and turns a profit.

a career is not something that interests him; he is more interested in bending rules and making quick money. thievery, selling illegal shit, heists, fraud, fuck-all. mundungus is not limited by one descriptor, one kind of criminality. he just does what he wants and hopes to make a good penny.

but then he almost gets sent to azkaban over some, in his frank opinion, bullshit. it’s dumbledore who talks the wizengamot out of it, saddling dung up with some community service and persuading him towards the order. he’s twenty three. the war is still fresh. he has no interest in it, but he owes the old man. fine.

mundungus does vehemently oppose blood purity and any kind of discriminatory ideals, an anarchist in his very bones, but he is also cowardly. to side with self-proclaimed rebels is not in his blood and yet it’s where he ends up, bringing shady ties to the underworld to the table and a sheer ability to sneak around and fuck the law. and maybe, amidst the ranks of the order, dung finds something he’s not very familiar with: a large family. and dung? well, he’s the stoner, gay, super-fucking-chaotic cousin.

personality

if jesper fahey and kaz brekker had a child, it would be dung.

other character parallels: fezco ( euphoria ), boris ( the goldfinch ), doug judy ( b99 ), jason mendoza ( the good place ), chris miles ( skins ), nick miller ( new girl ), creed bratton ( the office ), scott lang ( marvel ), lillian ( unbreakable kimmy schmidt )

technically he’s homeless. he’s got a bedroom at his ma’s place, has a ton of squatter connects in the muggle scene and couch surfes aplenty, but dung doesn’t rent a place. why? landlords are evil. he could afford a place, just doesn’t see the point. life’s better with some adventure.

appears very neutral in public as it’s beneficial to his role in the order???

.... tortured artist. writes poetry and loves to draw and paint.

tattooed the fuck up. some are his own designs.

can usually be spotted wearing The Coat, a rly expensive, vintage long coat that he once stole of a pureblood. he’s enlarged the pockets with some handy spellwork and pretty much carries everything he owes in there, like his produce and his money and his second pair of shoes and his art supplies and probably some random trash.

loves animals. he loves stray cats especially <3 they are his kin.

an anarchist. a bit of a punk. a deep idealist with a cowardly heart so constantly betraying himself (and sometimes others?)

queer! enby! genderfluid! i used he/him pronouns throughout this intro but dung truly doesn’t give a damn what u use. loves to dress up in feminine clothes.

has a ton of aliases, lol, the most important one being marigold fincher.

cusses too fuckin much to be healthy :/

oh no he is a big sad insecure kid deep inside :/ dont tell anyone how embarrassing!!!! shhhh!! it’s a secret.

quick connection ideas

victim. wow please. if your character is rich. let me steal from u. pick ur pockets. break into ur house. get some of ur stuff and drop it on the black market.

customer. dung sells. whatever u need. drugs. weird magical things. ask and ye shall receive. his prices are whack but he does deliver <3

pal. party friends! order friends! random encounter friends! dung has a trashmouth and loves to talk pls let him chat u up and u will never be rid of him <3

couch. he couch surfs. a lot. if ur character trusts dung enough to let him into their home (which they shouldnt) then pls let him sleep over for a night. he will leave a strangely expensive necklace on ur kitchen table as a thank u. or wilted flowers. no in between.

skeptic. ur char is in the order and thinks dung is a liability and maybe they have a point. a point mundungus would rather not face :)

dmle bitches. dung hates anyone authoritative but esp the coppers at the ministry (hit wix & aurors) (yea he calls them coppers sorry he doesnt respect them enough to call them aurors <3). give me that doug judy/jake peralta dynamic. or just someone in the dmle who is like ... sigh this guy again???

fwb/one night stand/fling/etc. he’s a bit slutty <333 give him some ppl he’s hooked up with / will hook up with.

#muddywaters.intro #intro.#this one <3 this one has so much dumb energy in one body <3

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loquaciousquark · 4 years

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I hope you're doing well! I know you posted about a stressful situation last month, and I hope it's resolved itself. Sending good wishes you you and Hamlet!

Thank you so very much for checking in on me! I really do appreciate it. An update to that post under the cut.

Carol, who moved in with me on May 28, is still here. Right now, we have set a tentative move-out goal of the first or second week of August, but this is pending an apartment application that she hopes to finalize on Monday and a job situation that is a complete mess.

Basically, according to my limited understanding, Carol is licensed to teach in Florida. Alabama has a reciprocity clause with Florida, but it must be applied for. Carol has recently begun this process, but her teaching license(s?) is (are?) set to expire in December unless she passes certain exams. She’s already passed one for...general middle and high school teaching, I think, but failed a math exam. She has an art history exam Monday afternoon and expects to pass. I hope so, because she’s been doing nothing but watching Netflix and shopping for houses for the last few days in her new 2017 Jeep Cherokee.

I remain unspeakably grateful to my parents for teaching me financial literacy, because until I witnessed Carol’s decision-making, I had no idea how hard it was for some people to not spend money unwisely.

As a reminder, Carol is dead broke. She has $153,000 in debt across student loans, medical bills, Czech and US taxes, and some personal loans she would like to repay to friends for helping her. She is unemployed and has no support from her family and has relied on couch surfing at friends’ and acquaintances’ homes since last summer for housing. Since moving in with me, she has been trying to find somewhere to live that would accept her with all her debt and her nonexistent US employment history for the last ten years. Based on what she’s said, I think she has about $9k in the bank--or did, until last week.

In short, she needs a car, a job, and a home, and as far as I can tell she doesn’t care which order they come in.

Two weeks ago, she was offered a position in a rural town about 30 minutes from where I live. It’s a small, very country town which desperately needs a special education teacher, something I think Carol really does have a passion for. However, because she hasn’t finished the reciprocity licensure application yet, they’re having a lot of roadblocks with her paperwork, compounded by the fact that when she left Prague last year, she left all her important documentation behind: things like her birth certificate, her social security card, and her letters of recommendation, which for some reason she did not have electronic backups of. The principal has been trying to get what she needs from Carol for two weeks. Carol is constantly saying that things are “in process” but has nothing to show for it.

As far as we can tell, the job is still hers, but the school year starts August 13th and she still hasn’t been approved by the Board of Education because the paperwork is still not finished on her end. She did not attempt to replace her birth certificate or social security card until they needed it for the application. (Her friend in Prague--and I am beginning to realize she uses the word “friend” for anyone she’s met longer than sixty seconds), who frantically packed up all her belongings when she realized she would not be able to go back to the city, cannot ship her belongings or go through them for the important paperwork until next summer, as she and her husband are currently vacationing in Rome for a year.

Carol decided last night she is also going to apply for some online Department of Defense position--I didn’t understand the details and don’t really want to know, except that it’s also teaching and some administration. We’ll see how it works out. She is growing increasingly annoyed at the principal’s requests for paperwork completion, which baffles me.

So, job: shrug? Maybe?

Car next, then, but this whole mess also goes back to the financial literacy thing. My parents have always been extremely frugal (pennywise, as my dad would say), and from childhood they made it very clear to us to not buy things you couldn’t afford. They’ve never had a car payment in my memory, and they paid off their house about ten years ago. This means they drove a lot of junkers for a very long time, and for a very long time we had very few vacations, but now they’re fully financially stable and debt-free and my mom has a car that she drove off the lot brand new that they paid cash in hand for.

If I had been in Carol’s situation, I would have found a cheap, mostly reliable used car that probably wasn’t going to explode on me and drive that as long as I could while saving up for housing. I did in fact drive her to look at several used cars, most of which would have been even outside my expected budget (hers, as it happens, is larger even than that, because one of her overseas friends was willing to contribute $5000 to the cost of a vehicle). (I paid $6500 for my current car, a 2004, in college in 2012 with 70,000 miles on it at the time, and have driven it ever since.)

She rejected all of them because they did not have good “energy” and “feelings.” One she was willing to buy at $3700, but told the seller to go pay for his own inspection (once I explained to her what mechanical inspections were as a concept), so they ghosted her. She also is extremely afraid of head gasket failure--I don’t know why, since she knows nothing about cars--and has assumed all vehicles she has driven are on the verge of it, so after the first week she refused to even look at a vehicle without a warranty.

This means she exclusively limited herself to used dealership options, which I’m just going to come right out and say was monumentally stupid. I don’t know if any car dealers follow me, so I’m sorry if I am misperceiving this, but in my experience almost every dealer I’ve gone to has been aggressive, manipulative, and extremely predatory in their interest rates. I cannot think of a riskier course of action in abject debt than to try to cut a deal with a car dealer for the sake of a warranty I doubt will cover that much truly expensive failure in the long run anyway.

On Thursday, Carol bought a $20,000 2017 Jeep Cherokee from a dealership down the road. I don’t know what she put down. I do know she did not use her friend’s money (why not??) and I know her interest rate on the car loan is 4%, which she is extremely proud of and which horrifies me. She also “persuaded” them into a limited warranty that will cover the vehicle up to 100,000 miles (currently at 42k, and they ~only offer it for cars under 40,000 miles~). I can’t tell you how bad an idea I think all this is.

Thursday night, as she was regaling me with stories of her negotiating prowess, she also tells me she has decided to buy a house. She’s sick of renting, and somehow, someone somewhere managed to get her approved for up to $120,000 in a home loan. She already has $150k in debt, another $20k from the car, and now wants to buy a house. She was delighted that she could make the minimum 7% down payment, even though it would wipe out every cent she has left and leave her less than $500 to her name for moving expenses, utilities, food, title registration, etc. afterwards.

She doesn’t even have a secure job yet.

However, this plan seems to have fallen through. She went out with a realtor several times this weekend and came home the last time in great, heaving sobs, because she can’t find the 3bed 2bath she wanted in her price range. (For reference, most homes in this area go between 200k - 250k right now for 2-3bed 2ba, and the closer you get to the city--I have about a 20 minute commute--the higher it gets. My next door neighbor sold her 3bed 2.5ba for >300k three months ago, and Carol knew this.) She was absolutely devastated that the only things in her range were “tiny little ugly flipped houses” and “the ghetto.” The realtor basically said she wasn’t going to waste any more of her time. Carol repeatedly told me how grateful I should be that I got in at the price point I did a few years back, because no “normal people” could ever afford to break into the market again.

I tried to tell her that it was because I lived in with a roommate in very cheap housing and then a cell of a 1bed 1ba apartment for eight years while I saved money, but if nothing else, I’ve learned I’m not allowed to compare our situations or histories or offer advice of any kind except “go ahead and buy what you want,” because that only makes her cry harder. In the end, she has decided to give up on the house for now and settle for the absolute last thing in the world she wanted, an apartment with a lease.

To be honest, until she has a signed contract in hand, I half-expect this lease to fall through as well. I have tried to offer what I think is sensible advice and been ignored or rebuffed. I have tried to offer a sympathetic ear and ended up with her sobbing uncontrollably on me--heaving, body-wracking sobs--over and over again with me trapped in my own home, providing endless emotional support for a girl I don’t even like. I have tried to encourage her to do the things she wants to do, since she’s going to do them anyway, and when she gets “negative energy” after the purchases (buyer’s remorse, I think, that one little inkling of sense saying maybe it wasn’t a great idea to buy a $20,000 car or an $1100 brand new iPhone without a job), she blames it on the exact thing I said I thought might be good and makes me feel like I have now directly contributed to a negative outcome after poor decision-making.

For the record, when she says these things to me she is not saying, and has never said, them directly at me. She has never blamed me in any way for a negative outcome. She is not consciously trying to manipulate me or abuse me or take advantage of my help. She has never once asked me for money or job connections or for me to use any of my stability to unfairly or unethically get her something she needs. She is just completely absorbed in her own (rightfully absorbing) mess of a situation, and I think just completely unaware of how much of an emotional black hole she has become. There are no problems except her problems. There are no needs except her needs, and everyone around her has to understand how hard she has it at all times.

So, we’ll see. I am praying that the apartment works out next week. The owner seems to want to work with her, which is a hopeful sign. Good thoughts would be appreciated.

Aside from all of this, work has gotten extremely complicated. I’m not going to go into all of it now, but one of my jobs is to create an extremely detailed schedule for students in clinic. This is used to schedule patients in each service--if we have this many students, we can have this many patient slots per half-day, etc. Last week, two students were out unexpectedly, one who broke her arm the day before she was supposed to begin, and one who had a terrible anxiety attack and thought the symptoms were actually COVID. That student was tested and cleared negative, but Student Health requires a two-week quarantine anyway, so she was not allowed to return.

This meant that we now had multiple patients per day with no one to see them. We tried to reschedule as many as we could, but we still ended up with multiple overbooks. This is extremely stressful for me as both a provider, an instructor, and a human being who hates having other people wait on her in a professional capacity. We got through the week, but not without several painful bumps, and it’s looking like there will be more soon.

I also woke up to an email this morning that one of my favorite students (yes, I have favorites, I’m sorry), had a completely unexpected death in the immediate family and had to rush home. This is a very, very sweet, very smart girl who has worked unbelievably hard over the past year to do well in this program and in my courses, and I am just devastated for her. One of her friends is willing to cover her clinic, so the impact will be minimal on that side, but to have this happen during this country’s hellhole handling of this pandemic...I can’t even imagine it.

All of this isn’t even touching COVID. The President’s side has won in that sense--I don’t even register the numbers anymore--but as of last week our dean sent out messaging that implied that with our state’s failure to contain the spread, new discussions were going to be happening soon regarding our August start. We already had committed to full hybrid scheduling: all lectures online, in-person labs only where absolutely necessary to continue advancement in the program, and those labs limited to two per room with full PPE, but if they decide even that can’t happen, I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do. I cannot make competent doctors over Zoom. I can’t. At some point they have to touch other people and look at other people’s eyes. They have to be able to check real, in-person blood pressure. They have to look at genuine eye movements and ocular surfaces in person and I cannot and will not let them enter clinic until they have the practice and the time and the practicals behind them. I fucking refuse to endanger the public for sixty years because someone in an office somewhere decided a timetable is more important than a patient keeping their ability to see, and I’m ready to fight administration on this if they try to push it.

But if I win the fight, what next? They just...don’t enter clinic next year. They don’t enter my program. I don’t know what they do in the meantime, as this lab meets four mornings a week and the lecture twice. The course is delayed until next year or whenever we have the virus under control again, and suddenly my fall semester sure looks like I’ll be being paid to stay at home and count carpet fibers. I don’t think they’ll fire me--no one else wants to teach my course anyway--but if I win this fight I might put myself right into furlough in the process.

I could be borrowing trouble, I know. They could come back and say that after review, our system and safety protocols (all extremely conservative) are indeed safe enough and we can proceed as we want. They could say that our limited in-person option for lectures (we have several gigantic lecture halls that could easily socially distance) is the only thing that needs to go. They could say that we just need to have smaller lab groups--hellish on me, but doable.

But it’s one more element of stress in my life that I just can’t handle worrying about right now, which is why I’ve been bouncing back and forth between random fics and oneshots (that mermaid one was feverishly written on a single evening Carol spent at her mom’s house) and pouring an ungodly amount of hours into Animal Crossing. At least there I have some control over what happens next.

Sorry, guys. I know this is not the happy update I was hoping for. I’ll try to check in again next month and we’ll see where things end up.

#quark rambles #carol #coronavirus for ts #covid-19 for ts #update post #not a happy one for those who can't handle that right now #anonymous #quark replies

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kristinee · 4 years

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New Girl (Pt.2)

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, weed

Word Count: 1.4K

Summary: It was about time for you to go and hang out with the Pogues, it was so nice to be invited and even if you were excited to be around them all, you couldn’t keep your eye off of one.

A/N: I couldn’t be more happy that the first part was so well received. I hope you guys enjoy this as well :)

You woke up this morning more excited than ever. It was your time to make an amazing first impression with some pretty cool people. Although you had just met yesterday there was some kind of comfort you felt with them that you didn’t quite have before with your other friends...To be fair, those other friends treated you poorly, you were left out of most things they did until they needed you. Whether it be to give them a ride on a beer run or use your house for parties while your dad worked nights trying to make ends meet. It wasn’t entirely your best judgement but it got them to hang out with you, maybe there wasn’t a need for you to miss home.

Anyway that wasn’t what today was about. The phrase went through your head about a billion times but you had to keep reminding yourself that this was a fresh start. And to have a good start you needed a cute outfit to do it in. Even if it wasn’t a big deal it was the little things that mattered right now so you put something on and went to the kitchen to search for leftovers or something to eat for breakfast but instead found your dad cooking.”You seem to be pretty perky.” you said in a goofy tone, mocking what he said to you yesterday. “Well I thought I’d cook up one of my famous breakfasts for our first real morning out here.” He motioned his hand to the window while holding his spatula. “And I see I’m not the only one excited, you're already dressed to go out.” You laughed as you reached across the counter to grab a piece of bacon. “Just remember to clean up the deck before you leave and I’ll consider letting you come home after dark.”

It was a tempting offer so you decided to go for it, it'd buy you some time at John B’s to possibly talk to JJ. You know you just met but what would a little harmless flirting do.

A few hours go by of cleaning and watching TV with your dad when you hear a knock at the door. “I’ll get it.” You stand up from the couch to open the door, you’re greeted by the group of five. Kiara standing in front with a styrofoam container. “This is for your dad from my dad. He insisted on sending over some fine Outer Banks cuisine to the new residents.” She handed it to you and you set it on the counter before giving your dad a hug goodbye.

You walked out your front door to see an old van parked in the driveway. “So is the Mystery Machine (A/N: you get it because the van and scooby doo and mystery solving, okay that was the whole joke, back to the story) of The Cut?” they laughed at the reference you made as JJ held open the door for everyone to hop in. “Ladies first” which you assumed was the same plot he had as yesterday as the boat but you didn’t mind as much this time. You took a seat on the floor next to Pope and chatted with him while you took a short ride to John B’s. “So do you guys usually do this everyday?” you decided to ask him since he seemed to be quiet but observant. “Well John B lives on his own, JJ’s dad could care less, Kie is supposed to be a kook but she doesn’t really listen to her parents, Sarah has kind of persuaded hers into thinking she’s perfect, and they basically steal me from my house everyday so I guess it's just kind of become routine.” It was a straightforward answer for sure.

Walking into the house was an experience for sure. It seemed to be the perfect place for any teens to hang out. Even if it was a tad messy there wasn’t anyone there telling you what to do so you’d take what you can get. Hopefully this is where you’d be spending your summer from now on. You texted your dad to let him know you were safe.

“And welcome to your home for today, the fridge is mostly empty except maybe a couple beers, and the bathroom is to the left.” You looked around as John B spoke to get more of a feel for the place. “Soooo what do you guys usually do for fun around here?” You walked through the small house to look at the backyard to see JJ already pulling out a pre-roll, putting it to his lips. There was something about this that had you memorized. “Oh so that’s what you do around here. I’ve actually never smoked before.” You had laughed at the end of your statement because you had forever been surrounded by people who did it but never bothered to try it although it piqued your interest. “Would you mind if I tried taking a hit?” JJ’s blue eyes shifted to look at you and back at the blunt. “You gotta slow down Y/N. You have to let me school you in the art of a perfect inhale.” You sat next to him on the porch swing, your body turned towards him as he began his lesson of the day. “So of course you pick it up, like so. Wrap your lips around the tip.” As he looked at you, he winked at his own innuendo. “And then you gotta take a nice breath in, not too long or else you’ll cough up a lung.” He paused for a few seconds and took it from his lips. “It’s a little hard to talk with smoke in your mouth but I recommend taking in a bit of extra air just to really soak in this lovely substance.” His eyes were watering a little from the burn until he exhaled a large cloud. You decided to take in less since it was the first time. You weren’t sure where this impulse came from but you were enjoying it as you exhaled, with only a couple coughs.

Kiara came back out on the porch with a couple drinks “Wow, she’s a natural.” her hand reaching out to yours so she could get her fair share of the high. “I mean my friends always did it when I was around and I think I know why.” You felt more relaxed than you had been in a while.

Little time had passed before John proposed the idea of you guys go on the boat so you could swim and drink out on the water. “Hey Kiara, do you think I could borrow a bikini? I didn’t bring one with me.” You felt a little weird asking her since you had just met but you were lucky she practically lived here and kept a bag of extra clothes. You decided on a really nice maroon bikini she admitted she didn’t really want anymore. You put it on under your clothes and gathered with the others on the boat.

They had already cracked open drinks and turned on music, I guess they just lived an eternal spring break here.

Everyone else was already ready to swim and you were the only one who had clothes on so you decided to follow suit with everyone else. You took off the outfit you had, feeling a little self conscious until you saw JJ looking “Hey Kiara, this looks better on Y/N than it did you.” He awaited his punishment and plugged his nose before she shoved him in the water. “Shouldn’t have said it. No offense Y/N” Pope spoke up, you could tell he liked Kie...The night went on with the little party and swimming like planned and of course a little more progress with JJ and you eventually got a text from your dad telling you that he had a long day so he’d be going to sleep early so he’d count on you to be home at a reasonable time. It was never something he’d said before. It had always been a “be home before dark scenario” hmm.

It was about time for everyone to go so you dropped off Kie and Pope and went to the figure eight to drop Sarah off until John B said something “You know I think I’m just gonna go with Sarah, you wouldn’t mind just dropping the boat off and staying at my house after you drop on Y/N right?” JJ looked at John B, then you, at Sarah, back at you and then John B. “Uhh yeah that's fine man. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll make sure to get our new little friend here gets home” He smiled at you. If anything could possibly make the night any better. This would be it.

Ahhh Part 2. I’m debating on whether the next part should be 2.5 or just 3. As always, give me feedback. I hope you're all safe and healthy. I didn’t edit take much time to edit but I hope it is still up to your expectations <3

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist and request. I write for all characters. Fluff or smut so just let me know

Tags: @k-k0129 @treestarrrrrrrr

#obx #outerbanks #outer banks netflix #outerbanksedit #outerbanks imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #johnb #sarah cameron #kiara carrera #pope heyward #jj maybank smut #john b routledge #topper thornton #jj obx #rafe cameron #outer banks smut #my writing

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remys-lucky-franc · 4 years

Text

Comfort - Remy POV Fic (Queen of Thieves)

“Hey, I wanna ask for a Remy angst. Are you allowed to write angst?”

I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to write this for you, life’s just been a bit crazy between work and studying lately, and it’s so annoying because I’ve had some really nice requests that I’m excited to write for people, but I just haven’t had any time to work on them! Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this @ilovewritingfics 💕

Notes: although it’s written from Remy’s POV (I’ve never written a POV before for anything!), the fic is set in Nikolai’s route, which sounds weird, but you’ll see what I mean. No specific TWs for the fic, it covers Nikolai’s trauma surrounding his family, so if you aren’t up to date and don’t want a spoiler on that, or if it’s upsetting to you, consider giving this one a miss.

Word Count 2100

I want to credit my lovely friend @stopforamoment for her suggestion on the topic for this short fic - thank you lovely.

—-

[MORE] [[MORE]]

Dinner Club. One of my favourite things we do together. Every member of The Gilded Poppy is different and everyone has their own interests, of course. But this is something we can all enjoy, and I love this family time so much: everyone laughing, sharing food, telling stories, teasing each other... It’s always such fun to be part of this, and after a successful heist, it’s even better!

After all, tonight we have a beautiful vintage fencing sword in our possession! I know, it’s part of a much larger plan, but for tonight at least, stealing it has made Niko really happy, and that makes me happy. He’s sitting at the end of the table with a glint in his eye, listening to Daisy and Leon chatter joyfully about the (I must say, very predictable) ‘twist’ at the end of some romance novel. It’s a glint that I’ve seen a lot since Daisy joined our (very attractive) crime family. I smile to myself as I watch how her cheeks colour so prettily when she notices his eyes fixed on her, like she’s the only person in the room. It’s been a long time since I’ve saw Niko’s interest pique the way it does when she’s close by, if ever, actually. The energy between them, it’s something quite unique: special. She’s a match for him in ways I’ve never seen before, and the challenge is good for him. It’s like she set off a spark in him and all of the wonderful things that make him Niko, are just ‘more’ with her around. I watch them play their game - anticipation, flirtation, power and control - I’m well-versed in ‘love’ and seduction (some would say ‘a master’) but this something else: it’s not part of a con, not something ‘to get out of your system’... I only hope Daisy doesn’t tire of it, because I’ve never seen someone get the better of Nikolai Stirling the way she can.

I lean forward skewering something delicious from the sharing platter in front of me, popping it into my mouth, laughing along to the friendly debate Zoe, Jett and Vivienne are having. Vivienne’s losing her argument and is trying to convince me to fight her corner, but I’m too preoccupied with how I could use my conman charms to ‘gently persuade’ my best friend and Daisy to forget who is winning their mindgames and push them closer together. Niko will hate me meddling, but it’s for his own good! Maybe tomorrow I can-

My plotting is abruptly ended as the waiter heading to a table behind us is jostled by a man who tries to squeeze past him in a space that’s too narrow. It’s like the world slows down... I can see what’s unfolding, but I’m powerless: I have no time, no way of stopping it. The waiter loses his footing, one arm flailing. I’m holding my breath! He recovers (barely) without falling over, but not before the glass of Amarone perched on his tray swirls and sloshes to one side, a crescendo of blood-red bursting free down the front of Nikolai’s crisp white shirt. The bold bouquet of fruit and spice hits my nose as deep red splatters bleed and seep across the fabric. Nikolai is frozen, complete horror etched across his face. Suddenly, all I can see is the scared fifteen year-old I befriended on the streets of Paris carrying a sick kitten.

The waiter has discarded his tray; he’s panicked and apologising to Nikolai, fumbling for a napkin to try to blot away the mess. Our friends have noticed, but before anyone else can react, I’m halfway across the table with the salt cellar slipped inside my pocket. I wrap one comforting arm around Niko, my other hand on the waiters arm, reassuring him (in flawless Italian, of course) that everything is under control and I’ll take it from here. Within seconds, I have Nikolai on his feet, gripping him close to me as I guide him towards the restroom: always moving forward. I keep my free arm across his chest, deliberately, to shield the stains from his sight; leaning in close, chattering to distract him. Anything I can do, anything to keep him walking until I can get him inside. He’s hyperventilating by the time we enter the plush restroom, and fortunately it’s empty.

“Niko? Breathe. Slowly. Come on.”

He’s still not responding, I gently put pressure on his shoulder, manoeuvring him onto an Art Deco-style chaise beside a large mirror. I crouch in front of him, cupping his face in my hands, offering comfort, speaking softly,

“It’s ok. I’m here. Your Remy’s got you. It’s going to be ok. You’re safe.”

It’s a mantra I repeat several times over while he trembles. Minutes feel much longer, but now his breathing is slowing and for the first time since the spillage, he makes eye contact with me. I’m so relieved! I nod and smile before I press a heartfelt kiss to his cheek. The worst has passed. He’s going to be ok.

I pause, taking just a few seconds to catch my own breath: getting him away from the table to a safe space, keeping him moving, it was all automatic, all done on instincts. But now, my mind races. I’m so glad this happened when I was at the table; would anyone else have been able to get him out the way I did? Would he have let anyone else lead him off like this? He looked so vulnerable just now, it breaks my heart to think of it...

‘Focus, Remy. Come on. You’re not done yet.’

I lean back, fingers shifting to his collar, offering him my most suggestive grin,

“Lose the shirt.”

Nikolai manages a weak laugh (I knew that would get him!) as his fingers move toward his buttons, I realise a second too late that his hands are shaking too much to undo them. He mutters a strangled apology and rakes a hand through his dark hair as I make short work of them, startled by just how hard his heart hammers inside his chest, even now, minutes after the incident. He shrugs his way out of the shirt and I take it to the counter, grabbing some paper towels to blot out the liquid before dumpling half of the stolen salt cellar onto the stain. Selecting an expensive-looking cologne from the selection provided, I head back to Niko, spritzing it around him as I go, trying to erase the lingering scent of the alcohol from his nostrils.

As I join him on the chaise, he clears his throat awkwardly, his usually crisp clear voice barely audible at all,

“Thank you.”

I bump my shoulder against his, still trying to lighten the mood,

“Pas de problème.”

He still looks like he’s met a ghost, and I can feel the seat vibrate under me from his agitated tapping foot. But at least he’s speaking to me: when things have happened before, things that have triggered horrible memories for him, sometimes it’s taken hours to get him to even look at me. The first time it happened, long before The Gilded Poppy existed, we were only street kids, sleeping rough and begging. I’ll never forget it as long as I’m alive. A group of men left a bar near where we were hoping to earn a few francs, one of them was worse for wear and fell to the ground, vomiting. It wasn’t until I turned to Niko, ready to make some sassy comment about how the drunk couldn’t hold his liquor or his wallet, that I realised something was very, very wrong. It took hours for him to come back around, and days to feel better afterwards... I didn’t have a very happy childhood, and I was forced to grow up quickly, but not in the same way as Niko. The things he suffered... I can’t help but put myself into his shoes, picturing my family around our small dinner table, my lovely old meme, my mother bringing food to the table, my father chatting to my young brother about school... How unreal it must have felt to Niko, how terrifying. I cannot begin to imagine: to watch your whole family die... And such a painful death... It’s little wonder it haunts him. I scrub my hand across my eyes trying to shake the sickening scene.

I clap my hand on Niko’s knee as I stand, heading back to check how the salt is working on his shirt: it may seem ridiculous, but a conman has to think fast, and you never know when a cleaning tip like this will be useful! Of course, the shirt is looking much better - now I just need to rinse it and dry it off. Almost done. I bustle around the washbasin, running the breast of Niko’s shirt under the piping water, rinsing away the salt, pink dye flowing down the drain, erasing tonight’s events. I hold it up to the lights, smiling as I do.

“I think the shirt will survive, Niko.”

I start the hand drier, just as I hear Niko murmur something, far too low for me to hear over the roar,

“What was that?”

I stop, making my way back across to the chaise, gesturing for Niko to repeat himself. He looks up at me with the saddest blue eyes,

“I never wanted her to see me, like, this. How can she...” His posture visibly stiffens, “She won’t respect me after this?”

I frown. Of course, he’s talking about Daisy. And something in his voice tells me that Daisy’s ‘respect’ isn’t the feeling he’s truly worried about, but while he’s shirtless in a restaurant bathroom really isn’t the best time for me to play Cupid... I try to tell Nikolai that Daisy is the last person who would think any less of him because of this, she is so lovely: surely he knows her well enough, to know that? Daisy is sensitive and kind: she would understand. But he’s still shaken and so agitated about what happened at the table, my honest words make no difference; his barricades are going up and he mutters that he doesn’t want her pity. I make a show of raising one eyebrow at him, and shaking my head before I march back to the hand drier. I love Niko dearly, but he can be so stubborn, it makes me crazy!

Ten minutes later, Niko is looking much more collected, and is back in his gleaming white shirt: I am a man of many talents, it’s true! He straightens himself up in front of the mirror as I watch on: it’s almost as though nothing ever happened. We exit the restroom and rejoin our friends. Everyone is wonderfully discrete: they pretend we never left the table. Niko doesn’t utter a single word for the rest of the evening. His expression is strained and he doesn’t touch a bite of his food - he’s going through the motions but I know he can’t wait for the evening to end. I chip in some delightful anecdotes to help keep the conversation flowing, but what happened tonight weighs heavily on me: what if this happened and I wasn’t here? What if something like this happened on a heist? What if I couldn’t get to him? What would we do? How could I keep my best friend safe? What if something went wrong and I wasn’t around anymore? Who else understands like me?

I meet Daisy’s big brown eyes over the table, concern is written across her face. She really cares for Niko, it’s so obvious. I wish he would let her in... Having someone else who loves you, an extra person in this world looking out for you, to rely on... She could be the best thing that ever happened to him. She could make him happy, I can see it all.

I make a silent promise to myself: they say that love will find a way? Well, it certainly will when Remy Chevalier helps it along.

#queen of thieves #lovestruck fic #remy chevalier

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pure-bakusass · 5 years

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My adult kiribaku headcanons! 💥💪

Warning, this is a long ass post where I decided to write some of my favourite headcanons down. Mostly Bakugou but Kirishima is involved more or less. I love my adult pro hero husbands. I hope you enjoy!

1. The hero agency!

The formidable duo of Pro Heroes Ground Zero and Red Riot is known by public to be happily married and leading their own hero agency together. Their agency has quite a reputation and is one of the best in Japan. Being offered an internship there is considered quite a big deal. Your career as a future hero might really blossom there, if only you can handle the well known explosive temper of Ground Zero. But despite Ground Zero's lack of any actual patience for work with kids and often ending up scaring them, Red Riot does his best calming Bakugou down if needed and being the most warm and understanding teacher you could possibly have. Red Riot is just great with kids and with his husband. I'd say with people in general. His gentle approach softens the impact of Bakugou's behavior to the point people often end up forgiving and forgetting Bakugou's flaws.

2. Bakugou's tattoos!

Bakugou has some piercings and tattoo sleeves, not only because they look dope and he has always wanted them, but also to make a clear stand against the harmful cultural taboo there is in Japan. Tattoos, being strongly associated with criminal underworld, especially the gangsters, are now all over a pro hero's skin whether the public likes it or not. Bakugou himself takes pride in inspiring people not to give a single fuck about the opinion of others and encouraging them to do whatever makes them feel happy.

Ground Zero's tattoos were actually a very controvertial issue for some time on the media around the whole country, practically resulting in a revolution in that matter and causing a lot of discussions, mostly about whether it is appropriate for a pro hero to have tattoos or not. Specifically tattoos holding a vulgar or violent meaning like "shit happens", "sex bomb", "die", "fuck you" and so on. Ground Zero himself refused to take interviews and cut himself off the whole issue with making a public statement that he "doesn't give a fuck".

Without any interest from the subject of the issue himself, it wasn't long till the topic was worn off and the controversy faded away eventually. Still, it is pretty common for comments of strong disagreement to occur, for example:

"He looks more like a villain than a hero."

"Tattoos are not heroic, he should be ashamed of himself."

"He's clearly doing it for the controversy around himself so that he's in the spotlight. What a shallow attention seeker."

"Pro heroes should set a good example for our children, and so called Ground Zero is the exact opposite of what a pro hero should represent."

"Someone who wants to look like a criminal shouldn't be given a hero license because there is clearly something wrong going on inside his mind."

Bakugou, however, snaps back at those comments with more or less the same words.

"You want to know what's heroic? Minding your own fucking business."

Kirishima tried to persuade Bakugou into being a little more subtle with the public, however Bakugou said that "he didn't carry the bitch out of the collapsing building with those fucking hands so that she could disrecpect him like this" and he stands by it with every fiber of his tattooed being.

3. Bakugou and kids!

Despite Bakugou claiming he strongly dislikes children and can't handle them, Ground Zero is voted the most popular pro hero among teenagers. It's probably because of his rebellious, fierce attitude and his will to say and do anything he wants no matter what might others think, which is by teens considered very cool and brave, but by the parents of those teens - rude and inappropriate. A lot of adults don't think that Ground Zero is the best role model for their children, however nobody can deny his dedication, courage, skills and all the good he does for the society in general.

Once when a group of teens heard Bakugou throwing a sharp, savage comeback at someone who got on his nerves nearby, they high fived and yelled "Fucking roasted! Nobody messes with Ground Zero! He's the best!" Bakugou snapped at them to mind their fucking businesses. He wouldn't ever admit it but he was flattered and happy to hear them say it.

Despite saying it's useless and stupid over and over again, Bakugou never refuses to give autographs to any kid that asks. He knows what it feels like to admire someone to an extreme level, after all.

Once when he was asked for an autograph by this visibly shy and intimidated boy, he asked him what the fuck would he even need it for and got an answer:

"You see, I'm being bullied in my school, so I thought maybe if I let them know I met someone as awesome as Ground Zero, like, in person, they'd leave me alone. But without an autograph nobody will believe me."

Bakugou smirked in response.

"You think that's gonna work? Pathetic. Like anyone would pay any respect to a piece of shitty paper. Tell you what, I'll pay a little visit to your school myself and make the bastards shit their pants, how about that?"

Needless to say the kid wouldn't belive what he had just heard and looked at Bakugou in pure bliss. Long story short, Bakugou stormed the school and yelled at everyone. Not just the bullies but the teachers who ignored the case too, calling them out as "fucking idiots doing shitty job" and threatening the whole school community in general. The media basically ate him alive because of that incident but it's not like he cares anyway. Ground Zero the chaotic good hero regrets nothing.

I think he may be willing to go this extra in the matter of bullying as a pro hero because of what he used to do in the past himself (to Izuku) and feeling ashamed of this whenether it gets back to him.

4. Kirishima's looks! (aka krbk being adorably domestic)

At some point of their adult life together Kirishima decided to grow a beard. Bakugou said that he didn't think anything could look more shitty on Kirishima than his dumb hair, and yet there goes his husband proving him wrong. Despite having a new topic for many mean jokes Bakugou doesn't really mind the beard, just like he doesn't really mind Kirishima's unbreakable crocs he wears around the house (and occasionally not only the house) pretty much all the time. He just can't really do anything about that and it's not like he cares enough to try.

What Bakugou likes especially about Kirishima's new pro hero look is his hair he decided to grow to quite an impressive lenght. It somehow resembles a lion's mane and looks intimidating and very manly, but still being soft and nice to touch and run fingers through.

Bakugou's morning routine includes helping Kirishima with brushing his hair. He complains about it every time but there wasn’t a single day he didn’t do it. He still stubbornly calls the hair shitty and will rather die than say he adores it out loud. Kirishima knows.

Bonus:

Kirishima buys all kinds of Ground Zero merchandise there is because he thinks it's cute. Bakugou gets mad at him for spending money on that useless bullshit when he has the original Ground Zero in his presence pretty much whenether he wants. Kirishima likes to remind Bakugou every single day that he's his biggest fan and he loves him very much. He usually gets an irritated but equally adorable “I love you too you damn nerd” back.

***

For those of you who were determined enough to reach the very end, thank you sincerely for spending your time reading this. I was meaning to include an art piece for each one of the headcanons but I was too lazy to do art AND the post is already long enough I guess. You can expect my adult krbk artwork to appear in other posts though! They most certainly will appear.

#tldr #im sorry it was so long #kiribaku #bnha headcanons #adult bnha characters #tattooed bakugou katsuki #long haired kirishima eijirou #pro hero kiribaku #Ground Zero #Red Riot #domestic kiribaku #bakugou dealing with kids #there will be art to this just you wait #maybe even a spicy sexy art you never know

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fred-frederator-studios · 4 years

Photo

Dale Pon, R.I.P.

Pretty much the most famous media advertising campaign in history is “I Want My MTV!” –the May 2020 Google search returns 184,000 results, more than 30 years after the last flight ran– and it was the result of the brain of Dale Pon.*

* As I explain in detail in the pieces below, writer extraordinaire Nancy Podbielniak was the word spark for the campaign; it was George Lois who suggested ripping off “I Want My Maypo!” Dale Pon was the person who took these notions and turned them into brilliance.

Dale persuaded me and the powers that be at MTV that he could make it work, Dale who convinced MTV programmers to recording artists to participate for no fees. It was Dale who took the paltry budget allotted and strategized how to maximize the network’s cable distribution. And finally, it was Dale Pon’s dogged persistence and genius that caused cable operators across America to beg us to please stop running the campaign before all the telephone operators quit in frustration from all the people “demanding their MTV!!!”

My great friend –and better mentor– Dale Pon, passed away from difficulties due to Parkinson’s and Covid19. There’s no way to convey all of the ways people expressed their sadness to me today, but one of them probably encapsulated things best by saying “Complicated but brilliant, creatively inspired, strategic like chess master , we were lucky to have been touched by his talents...” All too true.

Dale could be –to say the least– a challenging personality. Determined to win, he could be a bulldozer crushing an ant. Warm at his core, he could be beyond generous will all he had at his disposal. Unlike many others with talent and raw intelligence, he was quick to share his remarkable thinking, lavish in his ability to elevate the talents of the shy and uncertain, and as bountiful with praises as he could be lacerating with his critical observations. He loved as deeply as he was able, and a constant explorer for the meanings of life.

When it came to the work, there was no one better at understanding media, and getting fans interested in its rewards. I don’t know if it was his methodologies and personality, or the fact that media promotion wasn’t all that well respected in the ad biz, but Dale didn’t have too much of a profile in the advertising world. I think, ultimately, he was much more focused on the work than on the publicity. So, things being what they are, what I’ve collected seems to be the most comprehensive look at his career, at least the parts that I’ve directly touch. By no means is it comprehensive, I know nothing about his radio days in the early 70s, and little about his work after I joined the cartoon industry. But all of what I have is yours, below.

I’ll lead with what a few of his colleagues and friends wrote a few years ago for Dale’s birthday. And then, below that, all the various campaign pieces (written from my perspective, of course) I’ve recalled over the years.

.....

April 2016, on the occasion of Dale’s birthday.

Dale Pon, my mentor and friend. Fucking smart.

Dale Pon’s been on my mind lately, as he is almost every day, because of the ways he taught me to think about …. um,everything. I’ve written about some other important mentors before, but Dale’s influence was so staggering I could never figure out how to sketch it out in anything shorter than book length.

“Dominate the space.” (He was referring to graphic design, but it might have served as a life philosophy).

“Of course, there’s an absolute truth.”

“You remember the first thing you see, but the last thing you hear.”

“The power of three.” (Broke that rule with this list.)

“Advertising is a frequency medium.”

“You make album tracks. I make hit songs.”

I’m not sure that he ever thought of himself as particularly quotable, but as you’ll see below, I wasn’t alone in internalizing. There were hundreds more bon mots, most of which he probably forgot as soon as he said them but stuff I’ve never been able to shake off, to this day.

His resume doesn’t do him justice, but quickly… For 40 years, Dale Pon was at the forefront of media programming and promotion for many of the major media companies, CBS, NBC, Viacom, Storer Broadcasting (where we met). He specialized in radio throughout his career, but when Bob Pittman moved into cable television, he prevailed there too (“I Want My MTV!” is still returns hundreds of thousands of Google search results, 30 years after it went off the air). He was wildly successful in an advertising agency partnership with ad legend George Lois, before setting up a solo shop, Dale Pon Advertising, in New York City.

Dale was brash and loud, very, and he certainly wasn’t to everyone’s taste. The friend who first recommended me for one of his jobs called in a rage when he quit and said if I really needed a gig so badly… I knew Dale’s work from its supremacy of the metropolitan subway system for the New York country music powerhouse (a paradox if there ever was one) WHN Radio, but it hadn’t occurred to me that actual human beings created advertising, or that it took any real brain power. Dale quickly disabused me of that notion, as he sent me to his tailor to buy me my first three piece suit (more appropriate for Park Avenue media than the cut off shorts I wore to our interview).

Most of all, he was really fucking smart. And deeply, articulately, astute about media. He could tell the story of radio stations or television networks better than anyone, and persuade their audiences to fall profoundly in love, by sticking to the basic human emotions like truth, desire, love. (My favorite? “Love songs, nothing but love songs” for WPIX-FM, directly appropriated for an Off-Broadway show). He didn’t end it there, with a creative, strategic and statistical brilliance that combined, to quote Bob Pittman (from another context completely) “math and magic.”

What I appreciated most was his intense, almost overwhelming desire to teach me everything he knew at exactly the moment I was desperate for his knowledge. In fact, as I observed him with myself and others over the years, it would be fair to say that if you wasn’t interested in being taught, Dale Pon wasn’t interested in you. And, not for nothing, it went both ways. He’s was as incisive a questioner and listener as one could want. Curious, intrigued, dying to know anything on almost any subject. In my case, it meant that we generally spent six or seven days together all the years we were together in two different media capitals. Whew!

Difficult? Challenging? Exasperating? You bet. I wouldn’t trade that time for anything.

Dale’s the one who changed the course of my work life, and as Scott Webb says below, “he changed me.” It’s because of Dale that I stumbled on my understanding that I wasn’t a music guy after all, or even a TV baby, but a pop culture sponge. I wouldn’t had the chance to participate in any of the culture shiftings I got to observe first hand. Who knows, maybe I would’ve stumbled through a life of complete dissatisfaction. That’s how profound his influence was on me.

Dale’s birthday recently passed by, and stuck for cogent things to say about him, I reached out to a few friends who’ve crossed his path and might be better at expressing themselves than I ever could. You’ll notice they’re pretty powerful personalities themselves, but Dale made an impression. Boy, did he make an impression. (I left out some of those controversial moments and unproductive comments.)

Well, our friends didn’t let us down. They got to the heart of the matter in ways I never could. Thanks everyone.

…..

Herb Scannell: Mythical.

Dale Pon is mythical.

He’s the man who “wanted his MTV” and got the world to say the same. My friend Fred always claimed that he learned whatever he knew from Dale and whatever I know I learned from Fred so it all comes back to Dale. Or blame them both. Happy Birthday Dale! Forever young!

…..

Bob Pittman: The Mad Scientist.

Dale Pon is the mad scientist of advertising. Full of passion, always with a breakthrough idea and the urgency to get it done quickly with no compromises. He made a huge contribution to my successes at WNBC Radio, MTV and even Six Flags theme parks. One of a kind….happy birthday to him from a big fan!

……

Scott Webb: “Most people don’t know how to think.”

Dale Pon didn’t just change my life he changed me. He encouraged me to be brave and fearless and never stop solving problems. He is one of the smartest people I have ever met and the teacher I will never forget.

You never know how things are going to happen. After 4 years at Sarah Lawrence, one of the most expensive liberal arts schools, I was clueless about a career. My secret wish was to write comics (mostly because I had no talent to draw). Unlike most of my class at SLC my parents were basically working class folks with a yankee work ethic who expected me to not move back home after graduation.

One January evening, I was talking with my friend Betsy K who had just graduated. She had just returned home from job hunting in the city. She had an interview at WNBC Radio; they weren’t hiring but were looking for interns. “What’s an intern?” I asked. I was so naive.

I immediately fell in love with the energy of the radio station. I had to work there.

“You’ll be working for Dale Pon. He’s very demanding. Do you think you can handle that?” asked Buzz Brindle, a WNBC program director. Me? Of course! I’ve got my Yankee work ethic and my Sarah Lawrence education. I thought I was ready for anything. But I was not ready for Dale Pan.

Dale was bigger than life, louder than anyone else in the company and frequently slammed the door to his tiny office. I found him brilliant, charismatic and intimidating.

My first big assignment for Dale was to create a chart of all the radio stations in New York and rank them by ratings performance over the past 2 years. I wanted to do a great job for him but the truth was that I was terrible at chart making. I was a liberal arts comic book kid and he had me doing statistical analysis and I knew if I did a bad job I would probably face his famous wrath behind a slammed closed door. But despite my inept chart building, Dale painstakingly taught me how to read the Arbitron reports and methodically went through my work and instructed me how to correct it. I learned more from him over that 5 month internship than I had in my last 2 years of college. But my lesson wasn’t in statistical analysis or radio promotion. Dale had high expectations of me, he believed in me and he was demanding in the pursuit of excellence.

A lot of people at the station didn’t like Dale mostly because he would raise his voice to make a point or because he was passionate about his beliefs, or would not hold back his opinion when something was mediocre, pedestrian or just plain stupid. Dale expected greatness in people, work and business. His mission was to win and often people found that difficult to embrace. I, on the other hand, found it awesome. I guess he reminded me of the comic book heroes I admired so much - characters who were extraordinary and could do things other people thought were impossible. Most people at the radio station were happy to have a job and get a paycheck and could care less about being #1 but for him that was all that mattered.

It didn’t hurt that he was so smart and insightful. He had the uncanny super power of understand exactly what the problem was – and he taught me that creativity was the ability to solve problems in fresh, innovative and smart ways.

“Do you know why I hired you?” he asked me at the end of my internship. “I didn’t want to hire one of those kids who studied advertising or media in college. Those kids have been ruined. They show up thinking they already know everything - and they haven’t even had a job yet. You didn’t know anything but you were willing to learn and think. Most people don’t know how to think.”

Those were some of the most important words I ever heard. They lit a fire of confidence and trust in myself that did not exist before and served me throughout my life, not just in work but in life.

…..

Bill Sobel: He yelled at me on the phone…no idea why.

…..

Noreen Morioka: “Good creates things, and Evil destroys it.”

There is no doubt that we all have a great Dale Pon story. Dale never did anything average. He did everything in extremes. Whether you were laughing so hard that you couldn’t breathe or wanting to shake him like a rag doll, Dale is unforgettable.

One of my favorite Dale Pon stories is when he was pitching a new name for a network. Since the channel was going to be all re-runs of a lower level, Dale named it Trash TV. I loved it, but when I presented my designs, he thought what I did wasn’t trashy enough and proceeded to get another designer to put flies swarming around the proposed logomark. When he presented his concept to the network president, he stopped at the building dumpster and pulled out garbage to bring up to presentation. Needless to say, the meeting didn’t go well, and the president was furious that Dale brought garbage into his beautiful office. Stern words were exchanged on both sides and security was called to take Dale and garbage out of the office. He called later to let me know they were going to search for another name. The network changed their name several times since then, and each time Dale would just smile. We all knew his solution was genius.

Like you, Fred, Dale taught me a lot. He taught me never to settle, always come back stronger and most importantly what the difference between good and evil was.

“Good creates things, and Evil destroys it.” Thanks to this simple Dale Pon-ism, I live my life by.

I will always have a deep respect and love for that guy. Happy Birthday, Dale. You are the true original.

…..

Tina Potter: So thoughtful.

Dale is a magnanimous gift-giver. I once told him the Chrysler Building was my favorite building in NY, and the next time I saw him, he brought me a beautiful framed B&W print of the building! So thoughtful. I still have it!

……

Judith Bookbinder: ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE.

I learned a lot from Dale in a very short time.

Dale taught me that ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE.

If you want to make something happen, figure it out or find someone who can do it for you.

This simple wisdom is something that has served me throughout my professional life.

…..

Ed Salamon: Directness and Simplicity.

I always appreciate the opportunity to say something nice about Dale, but the stories that first came to mind involved women, drugs, and fistfights. Or were otherwise too self-incriminating. Here’s what I’ve come up with:

The genius of Dale’s creativity is its directness and simplicity (like “I Want My MTV!”). Unfortunately that sometimes resulted in it being underappreciated.

When we worked together at WHN Radio I once heard our boss say to Dale at the end of the day “We need a new ad campaign slogan for the station by tomorrow. Take twenty minutes tonight, walk around the Village and come up with something.”

When I later started The United Stations Radio Network with Dick Clark and others, we hired Dale to create the logo, which he agreed to do out of friendship for only a nominal fee. The logo was a distinctive type face, with the letters stuck together (“united”). Some in the company commented that it was too simple; others appreciated its genius.

……

Tom Freston: A great bunch of guys.

Dale is a great bunch of guys. Argumentative, persistent, a perfectionist, fun, difficult, and smart as hell….winning, ultimately, most of his arguments. Happy birthday.

…..

Therese Gamba: “Work smarter, not harder.”

Long before there was “Better Call Saul” it was “Better Call Dale” when you were faced with a creative challenge. Dale had a long term relationship with MTV Networks having been part of the launch team for that iconic channel. So when The Nashville Network had to be relaunched as the new home of the WWE (then the WWF), oh and it had to be done in three months, there was only one person to call.

My first meeting with Dale was over lunch at the Mercer Kitchen. Fred had prepped me that Dale liked metrics and to be ready for a lot of questions. But as anyone who’s met with Dale will tell you, you can never be fully prepared for the hurricane of creative energy that is Dale Pon.

I was prepared with my Venn diagram of the overlap between TNN’s current viewers and the WWE’s viewers (no surprise, not a big cross section). Then the questions started in what felt like a ping pong match at warp speed.

Two hours into the lunch I had held my own and received the nod from Dale that I was on the right track. I was exhausted, relieved and thrilled to have passed the test. I learned that once you’ve basked in the glow of Dale’s approval, you were hooked. I also learned that I had become a member of an exclusive club, “Dale’s World.” My fellow club members all know the stories, share the memories and still live by what he taught us.

Dale always said “work smarter, not harder.” That mantra has never failed me just as Dale never failed to be supportive, inquisitive and completely one of a kind!

Happy Birthday dear Dale!

(From left): Dale Pon, Anne Grassi, Scott Webb at WNBC Radio, circa 1980.

Alan Goodman: “I’ll give you 50 bucks to fuck up this guy’s haircut.”

Two stories about Dale Pon –

1. I was in Paris with Dale (who ran our advertising agency – my mentor was now my supplier) and MTV’s VP of Programming, Les Garland. Dale and Les weren’t pals. How tense was it? We had dinner together one night in Paris and Les bought us all expensive Cuban cigars. Outside, Dale waited until Les split off to go to his hotel. The first second Les was out of sight, Dale pitched his cigar in the gutter.

We had flown on 10 hours notice so we could shoot Mick Jagger saying “I Want My MTV!” Dale had already shot a number of other MTV generation stars shouting the line, and some were even biggish. But Jagger was THE “get.” We knew that once Jagger blessed our campaign by participating, we’d get anyone else we would ever want. (We did).

We waited around the hotel a couple of days until we got the bat signal that Mick was ready, and raced over to his hotel to set up. Very quickly, what was supposed to be Dale’s shoot had become Les’ shoot. Dale was pissed, rigid with anger, sequestered with me in the adjoining room forced to watch the proceedings on a monitor. I went over to him to try to diffuse the situation. I can’t remember what I told him. But I remember his response, word for word:

“Do you think I need to hear any of this right now?”

I realized why I was in Paris. I was there, as the client, to witness who threw the first punch.

I had spent every single day of the past four months in the office trying to figure out how to do a job I had no idea how to do. I was exhausted. I had zero interest in the kind of politics and shenanigans that network executives pull, and I didn’t want to be there. That’s it, I decided. I’ve had enough. I’m a writer. I have a talent. I can make a living. I will get back home and I will immediately quit.

I said nothing. I smiled through the rest of the shoot. We stopped at a bistro after we wrapped, and had a lovely dinner and wine with the crew. It was a celebration. For good reason. We had Jagger. I stayed quiet. Silent, even. No one knew of my plans.

When we reached the hotel, Dale drew me aside and sat me down.

“You’re not going to quit,” he said. What?! Huh?! How did he know? On top of everything, the man can read minds??!

“You’re not going to quit. You are at the very beginning of something that will change the world, and you will have a great career. You have to stay there and be a part of that and do what you do really well. You cannot leave. Do you understand? You cannot quit.”

He went up to bed. I went home the next day, and didn’t quit. Instead, I stayed and helped make the thing that changed the world. And it was the beginning of a great career.

2. I went to get my hair cut at Astor Place one day. I walked up to my guy, and there in the chair was Dale. I didn’t know Dale used my guy. Dale looked up at me, looked at the barber, and told him, “I’ll give you 50 bucks to fuck up this guy’s haircut.”

…..

Scott Webb (unedited): “He didn’t just change my life he changed me.”

You never know how things are going to happen.

I was a few short months away from graduating from Sarah Lawrence College with no idea what I would do for a job. I was a kid who had grown up reading and loving comic books. After 4 years at one of the most expensive liberal arts schools I was clueless about a career. My secret wish remained to write comics (mostly because I had no talent to draw). Sarah Lawrence was a great place for me. It was there that I understood how to learn. I was naturally curious and SLC exposed me to a world of ideas and brilliant people (students and teachers). But Sarah Lawrence was not a place where I could start a career path. 5 months from graduating I felt the looming pressure of finding a job and making money. Unlike most of my class at SLC my parents were basically working class folks with a yankee work ethic who expected me to not move back home after graduation.

One January evening, I was talking with my friend Betsy K who had just graduated. She had just returned home from job hunting in the city. She had an interview at WNBC radio with a guy named Buzz Brindle. She said they weren’t hiring but were looking for interns. “What’s an intern?” I asked. I was so naive. She explained that an internship is where you work for free - for experience and to get your foot in the door. WNBC was part of NBC - one of only 3 existing TV networks at the time and my eyes lit up at the idea of of doing anything with a big media company. So I lined up a meeting with Buzz to see if I was intern material.

Buzz was sweet and avuncular and I immediately fell in love with the energy of the radio station. I had to work there. “We’re looking for interns in the promotion department” Buzz explained and I just nodded as affirmatively as possible. “You’ll be working for Dale Pon. He’s very demanding. Do you think you can handle that?” Me? Of course! I’ve got my Yankee work ethic and my Sarah Lawrence education. I thought I was ready for anything. But I was not ready for Dale Pon.

I interned at the station 2 days a week and It appeared I was the only male in Dale’s promotion team. I reported to a woman named Anne Grassi but Dale was the boss. Dale was bigger than life, louder than anyone else in the company and frequently slammed the door to his tiny office. I had never worked in an office before. I found him brilliant, charismatic and intimidating. The other interns and I would huddle in the conference room where we did our work and wait for our next assignment.

I did many things as an intern but my first big assignment for Dale was to create a chart of all the radio stations in New York and rank them by ratings performance over the past 2 years. This was no small task - this was way before computers in offices - and required me to go to the NBC research department to collect dozens of Arbitron ratings books and laboriously extract the data he wanted and lay it out graphically. I wanted to do a great job for him but the truth was that I was terrible at chart making.

I was a liberal arts comic book kid and he had me doing statistical analysis and I knew if I did a bad job I would probably face his famous wrath behind a slammed closed door. But despite my inept chart building, Dale painstakingly taught me how to read the Arbitron reports and methodically went through my work and instructed me how to correct it. I learned more from him over that 5 month internship than I had in my last 2 years of college. But my lesson wasn’t in statistical analysis or radio promotion. Dale had high expectations of me, he believed in me and he was demanding in the pursuit of excellence.

The chart was part of his battle plan to make WNBC #1 in the NYC market and when I understood the big picture of what he was doing I felt even more inspired and willing to do anything in the service of that cause.

It didn’t hurt that he was so smart and insightful. He had the uncanny super power of understand exactly wha the problem was - and he taught me that creativity was the ability to solve problems in fresh, innovative and smart ways. “Do you know why I hired you?” he asked me at the end of my internship. “I didn’t want to hire one of those kids who studied advertising or media in college. Those kids have been ruined. They show up thinking they already know everything - and they haven’t even had a job yet. You didn’t know anything but you were willing to learn and think. Most people don’t know how to think.” Those were some of the most important words I ever heard. They lit a fire of confidence and trust in myself that did not exist before and served me throughout my life, not just in work but in life.

.....

Susan Kantor and David Hyman were on the opposite side of their relationships with him, Susan as a long time account executive in Dale’s agencies, and David as a client. Drew Takahashi, a trusted friend and wonderful creative partner.

I’m particularly fond of the pull quote from David’s recollections. Having had hundreds of restaurant meals with DP over the years, waitress confusion was probably my overriding remembrance.

Susan Kantor has traveled to the upper heights of television since her time with Dale Pon in the 1980s. But when you read her memoir below he prepared her well, as he did with all of us.

Drew Takahashi is a director who co-founded (Colossal) Pictures, San Francisco, one of the most creative production companies of the 1980s and 90s, and one of the key creative suppliers to the first decades of MTV.

David Hyman became my head of marketing at the MTVi Group when the company purchased Sonicnet.com, one of David’s early digital music endeavors (he’s gone on as founder of MOG, one of the seminal digital music streamers).

…..

Susan Kantor: “Lead, don’t follow”. Love, Dale”

Hands down, Dale Pon was my most influential career mentor. Ridiculously smart, enormously passionate, admirably courageous and truthfully a little scary.

We would all brace ourselves for the moment the elevator doors opened and the sound of his fiercely determined walk in his trademarked cowboy boots could be heard. With the first, “good morning” would come a rapid fire interrogation of where we were at on all the “to do’s” he had just given us an hour ago. “Why isn’t it done yet?”

Leslie Fenn-Gershon and I used to joke about putting a Valium in his Perrier so we could get through the day.

When I got to the office in the morning there would often be a “note”, on my chair written with red Sharpie marker on yellow pad lined paper (pre-email), from Dale. His handwriting, had as much conviction as his spoken word. These encouraging notes were meant to guide, remind, teach, mentor or simply, to show his appreciation - often complimentary, occasionally piercing. I still have them.

“Lead, don’t follow”. Love, Dale

“Let’s make things happen!” Love Dale “

“There are children and there are parents. Be a parent.” Love, Dale “

“Everyone wants to be told what to do. Tell them.” Love, Dale “

“We had a good day today. Thank you for your help.” Love, Dale

As we chased rock stars around the globe helping MTV and VH1 revolutionize the music industry, and traversed across the county to position many TV and radio stations in their market, Dale always imparted the importance of what we were doing and demanded we do our very best, every day.

He recognized my innate work ethic, enthusiasm and willingness to do whatever it took to learn and succeed – he also knew how young and naïve I was. Ripe for mentorship and direction. I got both, and then some. The Dale Pon “boot camp” was not always pretty, but it was always colorful, impactful, memorable and most importantly, meaningful.

Not only did he teach me all about advertising and the importance of finding the unique selling proposition and saying it as simply as possible so people would remember it, he showed me the world and how not to be intimidated by it. He made me self-aware of my talents and my shortcomings. He also taught me there was no substitute for doing the work.

To this day, I love you Dale and I thank you for believing in me and giving me the chance of a lifetime.

Belated birthday wishes and hope to see you again soon!

…..

Drew Takahashi: “…he gleefully pushed me to do stuff I hated.“

After seeing you and the MTV crew took me back to good/bad old days. I realized I missed Dale Pon.

Back in the day I didn’t know he was a mentor. I only knew he gleefully pushed me to do stuff I hated. In the end I realized you and he knew what was better for me than what I knew. Someday I’ll learn my lesson.

Steve Linden and I went to shoot with Dale for WNBC [AM]. He asked us to meet him at Windows on the World bar for drinks and dinner. He showed up two hours later and Steve and I were suitably toasted. Then he insisted we join him in a very alcoholic dinner. I was so hungover the morning of the shoot I didn’t know how I could direct the talent, Don Imus. Dale apologized for needing to shoot something first so we didn’t roll my spot until the afternoon. Saved my ass.

Many more memories. The weirdest was him in the Colossal bathroom cleaning crabs of their guts for a surprise picnic in the middle of our animation camera shoot.

…..

David Hyman: “[He] always confused the waitresses.”

Here’s mine:

Dale came up with the name of my company, Gracenote. I think that just came really easy to him.

For a while he was a really great teacher to me. I stubbornly couldn’t take the occasional abuse that went with it, even though it was probably good for me. I was honored to be asked as the voice over for a $30 million tv ad campaign by Dale and encouraged to do voice over work. Thrilling to be informed I had career chops outside of sales & marketing.

Dale is the only person i know that would always order two margaritas for himself (at the same time). It always confused the waitresses.

.....

With Dale Pon @WHN Radio. 1977, New York City.

It was against all odds, but my late 70s stint in country music radio hooked me up with a mentor who made the difference.

Before I got to New York’s 1050 WHN, I was aware of the station. Well aware. Sometime in 1976, my friend/future partner/father of my beloved nephew and niece, Alan Goodman, asked me whether I’d seen some giant subway posters (the top photo above). Of course, I’d noticed them, with large portraits of Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley, The Eagles, Charlie Pride, Loretta Lynn, Kenny Rogers, Olivia Newton-John, Linda Ronstadt and seemingly dozens of other traditional and contemporary stars of the era. There were so many, they seemed to be everywhere. And, they were gorgeous, well designed, in a sea of drop-dead-New York graffiti, hum drum posters, homeless campers and mess, standing out like nothing we’d ever seen down there before. Too bad it was for music we couldn’t stand.

After I got the job with the station’s creative director and ad man, Dale Pon (another story for another time), I found out a bit about the thinking at the station and the advertising campaign. How did a city that was the home of the most sophisticated popular music of all time –to the likes of Duke Ellington, George Gershwin, Irving Berlin, Frank Sinatra– welcome the shitkickers in and become the second most popular radio station in the United States (or the world, for that matter)?

Dale was the supremely gifted Vice President of Creative Services, and he introduced me to Ed Salamon, the station’s innovative program director (Neil Rockoff was the General Manager who brought them together), who used a Top 40 radio approach* to country radio, upending the entire (typical New Yorker’s) notion that country music hadn’t evolved since Hank Williams.

No ordinary radio promotion guy, Dale had been a media buyer at Ogilvy, a radio upstart (a mild description) when the world switched from AM to “progressive” FM, and run radio ad sales teams. In the 80s, he would go on to successfully run his own advertising agency, and together we started one of the most famous media campaigns of all time, “I Want My MTV!”).

Dale Pon wasn’t going to promote the station as cowboy boots and hats, like the last team did. He wanted big ratings for WHN, big ratings. They all did.

* If you’re interested, Ed’s written a book that details his contrarian, and wildly successful, methods called WHN: When New York Went Country.

WHN Radio illustrations from top to bottom, all creative direction by Dale Pon 1977: New York City subway station double truck posters (L-R) Olivia Newton-John (obscured), Linda Ronstadt, Elvis Presley; Olivia Newton-John; Kenny Rogers; Television/Radio Age cover ads; Linda Ronstadt double truck subway poster.

.....

I Want My MTV! Early 1980s, New York City.

MTV had been on the air for six months and we’d fired the storied Ogilvy & Mather and hired Dale Pon’s LPG/Pon (a joint venture with George Lois) at my insistence. Now they were presenting their first trade campaign for advertisers and cable operators and my first big decision was being called into question. America is fast becoming a land of Cable Brats! “It’s audacious! Outrageous! Just like you guys.” George Lois was a big talker, a big seller, and a bit of a smart ass, loudmouth. He was also smart. Even though I knew he designed the “cable brats” thing, it was my brilliant mentor Dale, who’d never steered me wrong creatively or strategically, who was behind the whole thing. His ex-girlfriend, and now one of my best friends, Nancy Podbielniak, had written the copy. Besides, I agreed with Dale that generally trade advertising was a waste of time and bigger waste of money. Consumers were where it’s at, and weren’t all the tradesmen we were hopping to reach consumers too? If we had a knockout punch of consumer advertising our job would be done. I knew he was keeping his powder dry for the big show.

America is fast becoming a land of Cable Brats! There’s an incorrigible new generation out there. They grew up with music. They grew up with television. So we put ‘em both together – for the Cable Brats, and they’re taking over America! They’re men and women in the 18 to 34 age range advertisers want most – plus the increasingly important 12 to 17 segement. The Cable Brats buy all the high volume, high ticket, high tech, high profit products of modern America. They’re strong-willed, cunning, crazily impulsive – an advertiser’s peerless audience. They look and listen and they want their MTV. And they buy, buy, buy. Rock'n'Roll wasn’t enough for them – now they want their MTV. (The exploding 24-hour Video Music Cable Network (and it’s Stereo!)

George was certainly right. It was audacious, and it was a touch outrageous. Somehow, the tone wasn’t quite right, but after the crap Ogilvy had done for us, it was way better. Besides, hidden in there was the sand grain that was going to lead us to our pearl.

.....

I Want My MTV! 1982, New York City.

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I WANT MY MTV! took the phenomenon that had taken over the imaginations of young America and supercharged it into a famous brand with just about everyone in the country. I just googled [in 2010] “I Want My MTV” and it popped up almost 4,760,000 results. Pretty amazing for an advertising campaign that ceased to exist 22 years ago.* Pretty potent. The whole thing was the work of my mentor and friend Dale Pon. He’d been my first boss in the commercial media, at WHN Radio in New York when it was a country music station. He’d recommended me for my job at Warner Amex Satellite Entertainment Company, as the production director of The Movie Channel, and eventually as the first Creative Director of MTV: Music Television. We’d fallen in and out over the years, but in late 1981, when it came time for us to hire an advertising agency again –at first, the top dog had vetoed Dale as not heavy enough for a company like ours– with a lot of help from my immediate boss Bob Pittman, I was able to convince everyone that Dale understood media promotion better than anyone else in America. Anyone. Besides, didn’t he have “insurance” with his partner, legendary adman George Lois?

Dale Pon (via MTV: The Making of a Revolution)

No one had ever encountered an ad executive like Dale, because he had the unique ability to be completely and analytically strategic –”math and magic” Pittman might call it– and be wildly, and intelligently, creative at the same time. An almost unheard of combination, especially in media advertising. Sure, he had a volatile nature, in advertising that was often a given (look at his partner). But it was his strategic, creative abilities that really set him apart.

We’d already done our first trade campaign, the “Cable Brats,“ to the discomfort of most of the suits in the corporate marketing group (Bob and his team, me included, were in programming). But Dale didn’t buy into the efficacy of trade ads anyhow, so now were onto the big show, television advertising. The only problem was that we all recognized that an effective campaign would cost about $10,000,000. Our budget only had $2,000,000, and if we didn’t spend it quickly the corporate gods would probably take it away in the fall.

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"I want my Maypo” commercials, created by John Hubley

Looking back, the core creative ended up being the most straightforward part. Dale’s closest friend and creative partner, Nancy Podbielniak had written the cable brats copy and had a tag line “Rock'n'roll wasn’t enough for them – now they want their MTV!” That rung a bell in George Lois, someone who never missed a chance to abscond with someone else’s good idea, and decided to rip off his own knock off of a Maypo campaign from the 1950s and 60s (animator John Hubley originated it as a set famous animated spots, and George had unsuccessfully knocked it off using sports stars) and presented a storyboard that completely duplicated his version. Rock stars like Mick Jagger were saying “I Want My MTV” and crying like babies, implying they were spoiled children being denied. No one was buying it until Dale let me know that there was no way he’d ask Pete Townshend or Mick to cry for us. “Pride! They need to show their pride in rock'n'roll! They’ll be shouting!” After a little corporate fuss we were able to sell it in.

AMERICA! DEMAND YOUR MTV!

Now, it was the next part that was completely and utterly brilliant. Because Dale came from the school that great creative was all well and good, but unless it could move the business needle, what good was it? In this case, the needle wasn’t ratings (cable TV didn’t have ratings in 1981), but active households, distribution for MTV. Cable operators were all relatively old guys who thought The Weather Channel was a better idea; they’d turned a deaf ear to their younger employees who were clamoring for us instead.

To dramatically simplify the strategy Dale organized, he decided to only advertise in markets where:

• There was enough penetration to justify a modest ad spend.

• But where there were critically large cable operators on the fence about taking MTV.

• And that we could afford a 300 gross rating point buy (three times heavier as any consumer products agency would suggest) for at least four weeks in a row (the traditional media spend would call for pulsing 10 days on and 10 days off).

The “G” in LPG/Pon was Dick Gershon. Along with data from our affiliate group, he crunched and crunched and crunched until he came up with a list of markets and dates we could afford. It was 20% of what we needed, but everyone figured if we could really start to knock off a bunch of cable systems, get them actually launch our network, the domino effect would solidify MTV’s hold on the market forever.

Strategy in place, the creative was back on the front burner. The basic campaign was a great way to get famous rock stars endorsing our channel, but where was the close? What would actually make the 'ka-ching’ we needed? Luckily, back in the day there was only one way to for a homeowner get anything from your reluctant jerk of a cable operator (they figure they held all the cards, why should they do anything to make life better for their consumers?). And what was it that young adults loved to do? Dale knew immediately.

No one alive in front of a television set in the summer of 1982 could ever forget

Pete Townshend, with the wackiest haircut of his career, shouting at the video camera:

“America! DEMAND your MTV! Call your cable operator and say, "I WANT MY MTV!!”

We shot the spots wherever the rock stars would have us for 20 minutes (they still weren’t really sure this MTV: Music Television thing was going to be good for them). Our director and producer, Tommy Schlamme and Buzz Potamkin, got together with some puppeteers to choreograph the 'dancing’ stereo television. I asked my partner to go into the studio to edit the music sections when they weren’t rocking enough, and –poof!– famous advertising.

Nothing to it, yes?

* For comparison, “I Want My Maypo” posts 112,000 results on Google. Or “Where’s the beef?”, another famous 1980’s campaign for Wendy’s returns 176,000 (or if you only use that phrase, which has been appropriated for all sorts of uses, you get 2,640,000).

.....

“Mee, mee, me, meeee!” MTV Networks Online, 1999/2000 New York City

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MTV got Sonicnet in the middle of another transaction they thought would be more important. But as the internet heated up in the business world’s consciousness, Sonicnet.com became something they thought to pay attention to. Which meant that, as president of MTV Networks Online, I was trying to help make the thing successful.

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MTV had also acquired a then-unique personalized radio application. Coupled with Sonicnet, we decided an ad campaign would supercharge the site, something large media folks like us thought was necessary. (It wasn’t.*)

Over a few objections, I hired my brilliant, challenging mentor Dale Pon to create our campaign. Dale had done our the iconic “I Want My MTV” for me in the early 1980s and constantly proved himself to be the most creative and effective media ad man in America. The stunningly talented and perfectly musical film director Tim Newman was already on our online staff (after turning his back on a career that included some of the greatest music videos of all time), so he was really the only person who we thought could direct the spots. Dale hustled our head of marketing, David Hyman, into his one and only –and perfect– voice acting job. (And, I should put in a word for the Sonicnet logo. Designed by AdamsMorioka, from a concept developed by Fred Graver.

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You can see for yourself that Dale knew how conceive big ideas to bring out the best from stars. With Tim in the director’s chair, the results were pretty stunning. And, to cap it, Dale really knew how to use MTVi’s clout to reach for the stars (like Isaac Hayes, James Brown, Joshua Bell, Jewel, Pat Metheny, Sheryl Crow, Beenie Man, Gang Starr, Faith Hill, Lindsey Buckingham, Don Henley, Al Jarreau, Alice Cooper, Blink 182, Kenny Wayne Shephard, Bon Jovi, Buck Cherry, Charlotte Church, Christina Acquilera, Dwight Yoakam, The Ruff Ryders, Eve, Johnny Resnick (The Goo Goo Dolls), kd lang, Buck Cherry, Kelis, Lindsey Buckingham, Melissa Etheridge, Moby, Seal, Sisqo, Static X, SheDaisy, Hillary Hahn, Charlotte Church, Yo Yo Ma, and Sting.)

This campaign, like every other one I’d worked on with Dale over the decades, was a hoot. One of the best things to come out of my one year in the early corporate internet.

…..

* IMHO, one of the great mistakes media companies made during Web 1.0, was thinking that their traditional audience reach would give them huge advantage in building web destinations. They’d made the exact same mistake in the transition from broadcast to cable. It didn’t occur to them in either era that a basic misunderstanding of the newest medium –not knowing what the audience wanted from the upstarts– would not attract anyone to their websites.

And, by the by, the same mistake has been made from popular websites bungling the transition to mobile. And, so it goes.

#Dale Pon

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blackkudos · 4 years

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Josephine Baker

Josephine Baker (born Freda Josephine McDonald, naturalised French Joséphine Baker; 3 June 1906 – 12 April 1975) was an American-born French entertainer, French Resistance agent, and civil rights activist. Her career was centered primarily in Europe, mostly in her adopted France. Baker was the first African-American to star in a major motion picture, the 1927 silent film Siren of the Tropics, directed by Mario Nalpas and Henri Étiévant.

During her early career Baker was renowned as a dancer, and was among the most celebrated performers to headline the revues of the Folies Bergère in Paris. Her performance in the revue Un vent de folie in 1927 caused a sensation in Paris. Her costume, consisting of only a short skirt of artificial bananas and a beaded necklace, became an iconic image and a symbol of the Jazz Age and the 1920s.

Baker was celebrated by artists and intellectuals of the era, who variously dubbed her the “Black Venus”, the "Black Pearl", the "Bronze Venus", and the "Creole Goddess". Born in St. Louis, Missouri, she renounced her U.S. citizenship and became a French national after her marriage to French industrialist Jean Lion in 1937. She raised her children in France. "I have two loves, my country and Paris", Baker once said, and she sang: « J'ai deux amours, mon pays et Paris ».

She was known for aiding the French Resistance during World War II. After the war, she was awarded the Croix de guerre by the French military, and was named a Chevalier of the Légion d'honneur by General Charles de Gaulle.

Baker refused to perform for segregated audiences in the United States and is noted for her contributions to the Civil Rights Movement. In 1968, she was offered unofficial leadership in the movement in the United States by Coretta Scott King, following Martin Luther King Jr.'s assassination. After thinking it over, Baker declined the offer out of concern for the welfare of her children.

Early life

Freda Josephine McDonald was born in St. Louis, Missouri. Her mother, Carrie, was adopted in Little Rock, Arkansas in 1886 by Richard and Elvira McDonald, both of whom were former slaves of African and Native American descent. Josephine Baker's estate identifies vaudeville drummer Eddie Carson as her natural father despite evidence to the contrary. Baker's foster son Jean-Claude Baker wrote a biography, published in 1993, titled Josephine: The Hungry Heart. Jean-Claude Baker did an exhaustive amount of research into the life of Josephine Baker, including the identity of her biological father. In the book, he discusses at length the circumstances surrounding Josephine Baker's birth:

The records of the city of St. Louis tell an almost unbelievable story. They show that (Josephine Baker's mother) Carrie McDonald ... was admitted to the (exclusively white) Female Hospital on May 3, 1906, diagnosed as pregnant. She was discharged on June 17, her baby, Freda J. McDonald having been born two weeks earlier. Why six weeks in the hospital? Especially for a black woman (of that time) who would customarily have had her baby at home with the help of a midwife? Obviously, there had been complications with the pregnancy, but Carrie's chart reveals no details. The father was identified (on the birth certificate) simply as "Edw"... I think Josephine's father was white – so did Josephine, so did her family ... people in St. Louis say that (Baker's mother) had worked for a German family (around the time she became pregnant). He's the one who must have got her into that hospital and paid to keep her there all those weeks. Also, her baby's birth was registered by the head of the hospital at a time when most black births were not. I have unraveled many mysteries associated with Josephine Baker, but the most painful mystery of her life, the mystery of her father's identity, I could not solve. The secret died with Carrie, who refused to the end to talk about it. She let people think Eddie Carson was the father, and Carson played along, (but) Josephine knew better.

Josephine spent her early life at 212 Targee Street (known by some St. Louis residents as Johnson Street) in the Mill Creek Valley neighborhood of St. Louis, a racially mixed low-income neighborhood near Union Station, consisting mainly of rooming houses, brothels, and apartments without indoor plumbing. Josephine was always poorly dressed and hungry as a child, and developed street smarts playing in the railroad yards of Union Station.

Josephine's mother married a kind but perpetually unemployed man, Arthur Martin, with whom she had son Arthur and two more daughters, Marguerite and Willie. She took in laundry to wash to make ends meet, and at eight years old, Josephine began working as a live-in domestic for white families in St. Louis. One woman abused her, burning Josephine's hands when the young girl put too much soap in the laundry. By age 12, she had dropped out of school.

At 13 she worked as a waitress at the Old Chauffeur's Club at 3133 Pine Street. She also lived as a street child in the slums of St. Louis, sleeping in cardboard shelters, scavenging for food in garbage cans, making a living with street-corner dancing. It was at the Old Chauffeur's Club where Josephine met Willie Wells and married him the same year. However, the marriage lasted less than a year. Following her divorce from Wells, she found work with a street performance group called the Jones Family Band.

In Baker's teen years she struggled to have a healthy relationship with her mother, Carrie McDonald, who did not want Josephine to become an entertainer, and scolded her for not tending to her second husband Willie Baker, whom she had married in 1921 at 15. Although she left Willie Baker when her vaudeville troupe was booked into a New York City venue and divorced him in 1925, it was during this time she began to see significant career success, and she continued to use his last name professionally for the rest of her life.

Though Baker traveled, then returned with gifts and money for her mother and younger half-sister, the turmoil with her mother pushed her to make a trip to France.

Career

Early years

Baker's consistent badgering of a show manager in her hometown led to her being recruited for the St. Louis Chorus vaudeville show. At the age of 15, she headed to New York City during the Harlem Renaissance, performing at the Plantation Club, Florence Mills’ old stomping ground, and in the chorus lines of the groundbreaking and hugely successful Broadway revues Shuffle Along (1921) with Adelaide Hall and The Chocolate Dandies (1924).

Baker performed as the last dancer on the end of the chorus line, where her act was to perform in a comic manner, as if she were unable to remember the dance, until the encore, at which point she would perform it not only correctly but with additional complexity. A term of the time describes this part of the cast as "The Pony". Baker was billed at the time as "the highest-paid chorus girl in vaudeville".

Her career began with blackface comedy at local clubs; this was the "entertainment" of which her mother had disapproved; however, these performances landed Baker an opportunity to tour in Paris, which would become the place she called home until her final days.

Paris and rise to fame

Baker sailed to Paris for a new venture, and opened in La Revue Nègre on 2 October 1925, aged 19, at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées.

In a 1974 interview with The Guardian, Baker explained that she obtained her first big break in the bustling city. "No, I didn't get my first break on Broadway. I was only in the chorus in 'Shuffle Along' and 'Chocolate Dandies'. I became famous first in France in the twenties. I just couldn't stand America and I was one of the first coloured Americans to move to Paris. Oh yes, Bricktop was there as well. Me and her were the only two, and we had a marvellous time. Of course, everyone who was anyone knew Bricky. And they got to know Miss Baker as well."

In Paris, she became an instant success for her erotic dancing, and for appearing practically nude onstage. After a successful tour of Europe, she broke her contract and returned to France to star at the Folies Bergère, setting the standard for her future acts.

Baker performed the "Danse Sauvage" wearing a costume consisting of a skirt made of a string of artificial bananas. Her success coincided (1925) with the Exposition des Arts Décoratifs, which gave birth to the term "Art Deco", and also with a renewal of interest in non-Western forms of art, including African. Baker represented one aspect of this fashion. In later shows in Paris, she was often accompanied on stage by her pet cheetah, "Chiquita", who was adorned with a diamond collar. The cheetah frequently escaped into the orchestra pit, where it terrorized the musicians, adding another element of excitement to the show.

After a while, Baker was the most successful American entertainer working in France. Ernest Hemingway called her "the most sensational woman anyone ever saw." The author spent hours talking with her in Paris bars. Picasso drew paintings depicting her alluring beauty. Jean Cocteau became friendly with her and helped vault her to international stardom.

Baker starred in three films which found success only in Europe: the silent film Siren of the Tropics (1927), Zouzou (1934) and Princesse Tam Tam (1935). She starred in Fausse Alerte in 1940.

At this time she scored her most successful song, "J'ai deux amours" (1931). At the start of her career in France, Baker met a Sicilian former stonemason who passed himself off as a count, who persuaded her to let him manage her. Giuseppe Pepito Abatino was not only Baker's management, but her lover as well. The two could not marry because Baker was still married to her second husband, Willie Baker.

Under the management of Abatino, Baker's stage and public persona, as well as her singing voice, were transformed. In 1934, she took the lead in a revival of Jacques Offenbach's opera La créole, which premiered in December of that year for a six-month run at the Théâtre Marigny on the Champs-Élysées of Paris. In preparation for her performances, she went through months of training with a vocal coach. In the words of Shirley Bassey, who has cited Baker as her primary influence, "... she went from a 'petite danseuse sauvage' with a decent voice to 'la grande diva magnifique' ... I swear in all my life I have never seen, and probably never shall see again, such a spectacular singer and performer."Despite her popularity in France, Baker never attained the equivalent reputation in America. Her star turn in a 1936 revival of Ziegfeld Follies on Broadway generated less than impressive box office numbers, and later in the run, she was replaced by Gypsy Rose Lee. Time magazine referred to her as a "Negro wench ... whose dancing and singing might be topped anywhere outside of Paris", while other critics said her voice was "too thin" and "dwarf-like" to fill the Winter Garden Theatre. She returned to Europe heartbroken. This contributed to Baker's becoming a legal citizen of France and giving up her American citizenship.

Baker returned to Paris in 1937, married the French industrialist Jean Lion, and became a French citizen. They were married in the French town of Crèvecœur-le-Grand, in a wedding presided over by the mayor, Jammy Schmidt.

Work during World War II

In September 1939, when France declared war on Germany in response to the invasion of Poland, Baker was recruited by the Deuxième Bureau, French military intelligence, as an "honorable correspondent". Baker collected what information she could about German troop locations from officials she met at parties. She specialized in gatherings at embassies and ministries, charming people as she had always done, while gathering information. Her café-society fame enabled her to rub shoulders with those in the know, from high-ranking Japanese officials to Italian bureaucrats, and to report back what she heard. She attended parties and gathered information at the Italian embassy without raising suspicion.

When the Germans invaded France, Baker left Paris and went to the Château des Milandes, her home in the Dordogne département in the south of France. She housed people who were eager to help the Free French effort led by Charles de Gaulle and supplied them with visas. As an entertainer, Baker had an excuse for moving around Europe, visiting neutral nations such as Portugal, as well as some in South America. She carried information for transmission to England, about airfields, harbors, and German troop concentrations in the West of France. Notes were written in invisible ink on Baker's sheet music.

Later in 1941, she and her entourage went to the French colonies in North Africa. The stated reason was Baker's health (since she was recovering from another case of pneumonia) but the real reason was to continue helping the Resistance. From a base in Morocco, she made tours of Spain. She pinned notes with the information she gathered inside her underwear (counting on her celebrity to avoid a strip search). She met the Pasha of Marrakech, whose support helped her through a miscarriage (the last of several). After the miscarriage, she developed an infection so severe it required a hysterectomy. The infection spread and she developed peritonitis and then sepsis. After her recovery (which she continued to fall in and out of), she started touring to entertain British, French, and American soldiers in North Africa. The Free French had no organized entertainment network for their troops, so Baker and her entourage managed for the most part on their own. They allowed no civilians and charged no admission.

After the war, Baker received the Croix de guerre and the Rosette de la Résistance. She was made a Chevalier of the Légion d'honneur by General Charles de Gaulle.

Baker's last marriage, to French composer and conductor Jo Bouillon, ended around the time Baker opted to adopt her 11th child.

Later career

In 1949, a reinvented Baker returned in triumph to the Folies Bergere. Bolstered by recognition of her wartime heroics, Baker the performer assumed a new gravitas, unafraid to take on serious music or subject matter. The engagement was a rousing success and reestablished Baker as one of Paris' preeminent entertainers. In 1951 Baker was invited back to the United States for a nightclub engagement in Miami. After winning a public battle over desegregating the club's audience, Baker followed up her sold-out run at the club with a national tour. Rave reviews and enthusiastic audiences accompanied her everywhere, climaxed by a parade in front of 100,000 people in Harlem in honor of her new title: NAACP's "Woman of the Year". Her future looked bright, with six months of bookings and promises of many more to come.

In 1952 Baker was hired to crown the Queen of the Cavalcade of Jazz for the famed eighth Cavalcade of Jazz concert held at Wrigley Field in Los Angeles which was produced by Leon Hefflin, Sr. on June 1. Also featured to perform that day were Roy Brown and His Mighty Men, Anna Mae Winburn and Her Sweethearts, Toni Harper, Louis Jordan, Jimmy Witherspoon and Jerry Wallace.

An incident at the Stork Club interrupted and overturned her plans. Baker criticized the club's unwritten policy of discouraging black patrons, then scolded columnist Walter Winchell, an old ally, for not rising to her defense. Winchell responded swiftly with a series of harsh public rebukes, including accusations of Communist sympathies (a serious charge at the time). The ensuing publicity resulted in the termination of Baker's work visa, forcing her to cancel all her engagements and return to France. It was almost a decade before U.S. officials allowed her back into the country.

In January 1966, Fidel Castro invited Baker to perform at the Teatro Musical de La Habana in Havana, Cuba, at the 7th-anniversary celebrations of his revolution. Her spectacular show in April broke attendance records. In 1968, Baker visited Yugoslavia and made appearances in Belgrade and in Skopje. In her later career, Baker faced financial troubles. She commented, "Nobody wants me, they've forgotten me"; but family members encouraged her to continue performing. In 1973 she performed at Carnegie Hall to a standing ovation.

The following year, she appeared in a Royal Variety Performance at the London Palladium, and then at the Monacan Red Cross Gala, celebrating her 50 years in French show business. Advancing years and exhaustion began to take their toll; she sometimes had trouble remembering lyrics, and her speeches between songs tended to ramble. She still continued to captivate audiences of all ages.

Civil rights activism

Although based in France, Baker supported the Civil Rights Movement during the 1950s. When she arrived in New York with her husband Jo, they were refused reservations at 36 hotels because of racial discrimination. She was so upset by this treatment that she wrote articles about the segregation in the United States. She also began traveling into the South. She gave a talk at Fisk University, a historically black college in Nashville, Tennessee, on "France, North Africa And The Equality Of The Races In France".

She refused to perform for segregated audiences in the United States, although she was offered $10,000 by a Miami club. (The club eventually met her demands). Her insistence on mixed audiences helped to integrate live entertainment shows in Las Vegas, Nevada. After this incident, she began receiving threatening phone calls from people claiming to be from the Ku Klux Klan but said publicly that she was not afraid of them.

In 1951, Baker made charges of racism against Sherman Billingsley's Stork Club in Manhattan, where she had been refused service.Actress Grace Kelly, who was at the club at the time, rushed over to Baker, took her by the arm and stormed out with her entire party, vowing never to return (although she returned on 3 January 1956 with Prince Rainier of Monaco). The two women became close friends after the incident.

When Baker was near bankruptcy, Kelly offered her a villa and financial assistance (Kelly by then was princess consort of Rainier III of Monaco). (However, during his work on the Stork Club book, author and New York Times reporter Ralph Blumenthal was contacted by Jean-Claude Baker, one of Baker's sons. Having read a Blumenthal-written story about Leonard Bernstein's FBI file, he indicated that he had read his mother's FBI file and, using comparison of the file to the tapes, said he thought the Stork Club incident was overblown.))

Baker worked with the NAACP. Her reputation as a crusader grew to such an extent that the NAACP had Sunday, 20 May 1951 declared "Josephine Baker Day". She was presented with life membership with the NAACP by Nobel Peace Prize winner Dr. Ralph Bunche. The honor she was paid spurred her to further her crusading efforts with the "Save Willie McGee" rally after he was convicted of the 1948 beating death of a furniture shop owner in Trenton, New Jersey. As the decorated war hero who was bolstered by the racial equality she experienced in Europe, Baker became increasingly regarded as controversial; some black people even began to shun her, fearing that her outspokenness and racy reputation from her earlier years would hurt the cause.

In 1963, she spoke at the March on Washington at the side of Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.

Baker was the only official female speaker. While wearing her Free French uniform emblazoned with her medal of the Légion d'honneur, she introduced the "Negro Women for Civil Rights." Rosa Parks and Daisy Bates were among those she acknowledged, and both gave brief speeches. Not everyone involved wanted Baker present at the March; some thought her time overseas had made her a woman of France, one who was disconnected from the Civil Rights issues going on in America. In her powerful speech, one of the things Baker notably said was:

I have walked into the palaces of kings and queens and into the houses of presidents. And much more. But I could not walk into a hotel in America and get a cup of coffee, and that made me mad. And when I get mad, you know that I open my big mouth. And then look out, 'cause when Josephine opens her mouth, they hear it all over the world ...

After King's assassination, his widow Coretta Scott King approached Baker in the Netherlands to ask if she would take her husband's place as leader of the Civil Rights Movement. After many days of thinking it over, Baker declined, saying her children were "too young to lose their mother".

Personal life

Relationships

Josephine Baker was bisexual. Her first marriage was to American Pullman porter Willie Wells when she was only 13 years old. The marriage was reportedly very unhappy and the couple divorced a short time later. Another short-lived marriage followed to Willie Baker in 1921; she retained Baker's last name because her career began taking off during that time, and it was the name by which she became best known. While she had four marriages to men, Jean-Claude Baker writes that Josephine also had several relationships with women.

During her time in the Harlem Renaissance arts community, one of her relationships was with Blues singer Clara Smith. In 1925, she began an extramarital relationship with the Belgian novelist Georges Simenon. In 1937, Baker married Frenchman Jean Lion. She and Lion separated in 1940. She married French composer and conductor Jo Bouillon in 1947, and their union also ended in divorce but lasted 14 years. She was later involved for a time with the artist Robert Brady, but they never married.

Children

During Baker's work with the Civil Rights Movement, she began adopting children, forming a family she often referred to as "The Rainbow Tribe". Baker wanted to prove that "children of different ethnicities and religions could still be brothers." She often took the children with her cross-country, and when they were at Château des Milandes, she arranged tours so visitors could walk the grounds and see how natural and happy the children in "The Rainbow Tribe" were. Her estate featured hotels, a farm, rides, and the children singing and dancing for the audience. She'd charge admission for visitors to enter and partake in the activities, which included watching the children play. Baker used her children as metaphors: living examples of what humanity should look like, and her diverse children were used in a sort of attack against racism. She created dramatic backstories for them, picking with clear intent in mind: at one point she wanted and planned to get a Jewish baby, but settled for a French one instead. She also raised them as different religions to further her model for the world, taking two children from Algeria and raising one Muslim and the other Catholic. One member of the Tribe, Jean-Claude Baker, said:

She wanted a doll.

Another, Akio who was adopted from Japan, said

She was a great artist, and she was our mother. Mothers make mistakes. Nobody's perfect.

Baker raised two daughters, French-born Marianne and Moroccan-born Stellina, and 10 sons, Korean-born Jeannot (or Janot), Japanese-born Akio, Colombian-born Luis, Finnish-born Jari (now Jarry), French-born Jean-Claude and Noël, Israeli-born Moïse, Algerian-born Brahim, Ivorian-born Koffi, and Venezuelan-born Mara. For some time, Baker lived with her children and an enormous staff in the château in Dordogne, France, with her fourth husband, Jo Bouillon.

Later years and death

In her later years, Baker converted to Roman Catholicism. In 1968, Baker lost her castle owing to unpaid debts; afterwards Princess Grace offered her an apartment in Roquebrune, near Monaco.

Baker was back on stage at the Olympia in Paris in 1968, in Belgrade and at Carnegie Hall in 1973, and at the Royal Variety Performance at the London Palladium and at the Gala du Cirque in Paris in 1974. On 8 April 1975, Baker starred in a retrospective revue at the Bobino in Paris, Joséphine à Bobino 1975, celebrating her 50 years in show business. The revue, financed notably by Prince Rainier, Princess Grace, and Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, opened to rave reviews. Demand for seating was such that fold-out chairs had to be added to accommodate spectators. The opening night audience included Sophia Loren, Mick Jagger, Shirley Bassey, Diana Ross, and Liza Minnelli.

Four days later, Baker was found lying peacefully in her bed surrounded by newspapers with glowing reviews of her performance. She was in a coma after suffering a cerebral hemorrhage. She was taken to Pitié-Salpêtrière Hospital, where she died, aged 68, on 12 April 1975.

She received a full Roman Catholic funeral that was held at L'Église de la Madeleine. The only American-born woman to receive full French military honors at her funeral, Baker's funeral was the occasion of a huge procession. After a family service at Saint-Charles Church in Monte Carlo, Baker was interred at Monaco's Cimetière de Monaco.

Legacy

Place Joséphine Baker (48°50′29″N 2°19′26″E) in the Montparnasse Quarter of Paris was named in her honor. She has also been inducted into the St. Louis Walk of Fame, and on 29 March 1995, into the Hall of Famous Missourians. St. Louis's Channing Avenue was renamed Josephine Baker Boulevard and a wax sculpture of Baker is on permanent display at The Griot Museum of Black History.

In 2015 she was inducted into the Legacy Walk in Chicago, Illinois, USA. The Piscine Joséphine Baker is a swimming pool along the banks of the Seine in Paris named after her.

Writing in the on-line BBC magazine in late 2014, Darren Royston, historical dance teacher at RADA credited Baker with being the Beyoncé of her day, and bringing the Charleston to Britain. Two of Baker's sons, Jean-Claude and Jarry (Jari), grew up to go into business together, running the restaurant Chez Josephine on Theatre Row, 42nd Street, New York City. It celebrates Baker's life and works.

Château des Milandes, a castle near Sarlat in the Dordogne, was Baker's home where she raised her twelve children. It is open to the public and displays her stage outfits including her banana skirt (of which there are apparently several). It also displays many family photographs and documents as well as her Legion of Honour medal. Most rooms are open for the public to walk through including bedrooms with the cots where her children slept, a huge kitchen, and a dining room where she often entertained large groups. The bathrooms were designed in art deco style but most rooms retained the French chateau style.

Baker continued to influence celebrities more than a century after her birth. In a 2003 interview with USA Today, Angelina Jolie cited Baker as "a model for the multiracial, multinational family she was beginning to create through adoption". Beyoncé performed Baker's banana dance at the Fashion Rocks concert at Radio City Music Hall in September 2006.

Writing on the 110th anniversary of her birth, Vogue described how her 1926 "danse sauvage" in her famous banana skirt "brilliantly manipulated the white male imagination" and "radically redefined notions of race and gender through style and performance in a way that continues to echo throughout fashion and music today, from Prada to Beyoncé."

On 3 June 2017, the 111th anniversary of her birth, Google released an animated Google Doodle, which consists of a slideshow chronicling her life and achievements.

On Thursday 22 November 2018, a documentary titled Josephine Baker: The Story of an Awakening, directed by Ilana Navaro, premiered at the Beirut Art Film Festival. It contains rarely seen archival footage, including some never before discovered, with music and narration.

In August 2019, Baker was one of the honorees inducted in the Rainbow Honor Walk, a walk of fame in San Francisco's Castro neighborhood noting LGBTQ people who have "made significant contributions in their fields."

Portrayals

Baker appears in her role as a member of the French Resistance in Johannes Mario Simmel's 1960 novel, Es muss nicht immer Kaviar sein (C'est pas toujours du caviar).

A character loosely based on Baker is featured in an episode of Hogan's Heroes titled "Is General Hammerschlag Burning?", which originally aired on 18 November 1967. The character Kumasa (played by Barbara McNair) is a chanteuse based in Paris. She later reveals herself to be Carol Dukes, a high-school classmate of Sergeant James Kinchloe (Ivan Dixon), on whom she had a secret crush.

The Italian-Belgian francophone singer composer Salvatore Adamo pays tribute to Baker with the song "Noël Sur Les Milandes" (album Petit Bonheur – EMI 1970).

Diana Ross portrayed Baker in both her Tony Award-winning Broadway and television show An Evening with Diana Ross. When the show was made into an NBC television special entitled The Big Event: An Evening with Diana Ross, Ross again portrayed Baker.

A German submariner mimics Baker's Danse banane in the 1981 film Das Boot.

In 1986, Helen Gelzer portrayed Baker on the London stage for a limited run in the musical Josephine – "a musical version of the life and times of Josephine Baker" with book, lyrics and music by Michael Wild. The show was produced by Baker's longtime friend Jack Hocket in conjunction with Premier Box-Office, and the musical director was Paul Maguire. Gelzer also recorded a studio cast album titled Josephine.

British singer-songwriter, Al Stewart wrote song about Josephine Baker. It appears in album "Last days of the century" from 1988.

In 1991, Baker's life story, The Josephine Baker Story, was broadcast on HBO. Lynn Whitfield portrayed Baker, and won an Emmy Award for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Miniseries or a Special – becoming the first Black actress to win the award in this category.

Artist Hassan Musa depicted Baker in a 1994 series of paintings called Who needs Bananas?

In the 1997 animated musical film Anastasia, Baker appears with her cheetah during the musical number "Paris Holds the Key (to Your Heart)".

In 2002, played by Karine Plantadit in Frida.

A character based on Baker (topless, wearing the famous "banana skirt") appears in the opening sequence of the 2003 animated film The Triplets of Belleville (Les Triplettes de Belleville).

The 2004 erotic novel Scandalous by British author Angela Campion uses Baker as its heroine and is inspired by Baker's sexual exploits and later adventures in the French Resistance. In the novel, Baker, working with a fictional black Canadian lover named Drummer Thompson, foils a plot by French fascists in 1936 Paris.

Her influence upon and assistance with the careers of husband and wife dancers Carmen De Lavallade and Geoffrey Holder are discussed and illustrated in rare footage in the 2005 Linda Atkinson/Nick Doob documentary, Carmen and Geoffrey.

Beyoncé has portrayed Baker on various occasions. During the 2006 Fashion Rocks show, Knowles performed "Dejá Vu" in a revised version of the Danse banane costume. In Knowles's video for "Naughty Girl", she is seen dancing in a huge champagne glass à la Baker. In I Am ... Yours: An Intimate Performance at Wynn Las Vegas, Beyonce lists Baker as an influence of a section of her live show.

In 2006, Jérôme Savary produced a musical, A La Recherche de Josephine – New Orleans for Ever (Looking for Josephine), starring Nicolle Rochelle. The story revolved around the history of jazz and Baker's career.

In 2010, Keri Hilson portrayed Baker in her single "Pretty Girl Rock".

In 2011, Sonia Rolland portrayed Baker in the film Midnight in Paris.

Baker was heavily featured in the 2012 book Josephine's Incredible Shoe & The Blackpearls by Peggi Eve Anderson-Randolph.

In July 2012, Cheryl Howard opened in The Sensational Josephine Baker, written and performed by Howard and directed by Ian Streicher at the Beckett Theatre of Theatre Row on 42nd Street in New York City, just a few doors away from Chez Josephine.

In July 2013, Cush Jumbo's debut play Josephine and I premiered at the Bush Theatre, London. It was re-produced in New York City at The Public Theater's Joe's Pub from 27 February to 5 April 2015.

In June 2016, Josephine, a burlesque cabaret dream play starring Tymisha Harris as Josephine Baker premiered at the 2016 San Diego Fringe Festival. The show has since played across North America and had a limited off-Broadway run in January–February 2018 at SoHo Playhouse in New York City.

In February 2017, Tiffany Daniels portrayed Baker in the Timeless television episode "The Lost Generation".

In late February 2017, a new play about Baker's later years, The Last Night of Josephine Baker by playwright Vincent Victoria, opened in Houston, Texas, starring Erica Young.

Baker appears as a recruitable secret agent with French citizenship in the 2020 DLC La Resistance for the WWII grand strategy game Hearts of Iron IV.

Film credits

Siren of the Tropics (1927)

The Woman from the Folies Bergères (1927) short subject

Zouzou (1934)

Princesse Tam Tam (1935)

Fausse alerte (The French Way) (1945)

Moulin Rouge (1941)

An jedem Finger zehn (1954)

Carosello del varietà (1955)

#06/03 #04/12

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crystalelemental · 4 years

Text

So I finished Ephraim’s route in Sacred Stones for the first time since the game came out.

When I was young, I remember saying the same thing: I don’t like Ephraim’s route. It just didn’t seem as strong as Eirika’s. And I could never articulate why, to a degree where most of my friends would insist it was because I just played Eirika’s first so the complete deviation felt weird, even though Ephraim’s route was just as solid. But I’m an adult now, and I like to think better at articulating opinions, so maybe now I’ll finally be able to express why I don’t like Ephraim’s route.

Part of it is Ephraim himself. I don’t like Ephraim, I find him incredibly dull, and think he embodies every insult people want to throw at Micaiah. Unbeatable in battle, unnaturally good at everything contrary to what’s told to us, the plot literally revolves entirely around him. Ephraim’s just bland to me. I think the best way to express this is to use a quote from someone who really likes him, courtesy of the only Fire Emblem fandom personality that I legitimately cannot stand.

Their take on Ephraim’s route is that: "Ephraim says he doesn’t pick fights he can’t win, but then he does pick a fight with Lyon. Then the journey after that is his character arc, of accepting how to become a king. He goes back to his kingdom a loser, and learns to accept that loss to become a better person.”

Problem: not a single word of that is true. For one thing, Ephraim never lost a fight, because that would be a flaw. Ephraim won every fight he was in ever, because “I don’t pick fights I can’t win.” Ephraim, you are three guys, exiting a castle, surrounded by a moat, further surrounded by mountains. Your only backup are cavalry units, and your enemies are mostly flying units, including a general so powerful that he injured Seth, your country’s best knight. But oh no, he gets to escape. No explanation, because you cannot possibly write a believable explanation for how that happened. He just gets away because Ephraim’s just so cool. So yeah, there’s no “learning to accept the loss,” because there is no loss. To anyone, at any time. I have no idea what they’re even talking about with “his loss to Lyon.” My best guess is they just hadn’t played in a while and forgot.

If anything, Ephraim’s crucial flaw should be presented as being a fucking slacker. They poke fun at it when they’re being taught as kids, but when war broke out, Ephraim left Renais to rush into battle, got his ass stranded, and wasn’t present to help Renais at all. This is slightly acknowledged when they finally return to Renais, but only in the sense of “he’s back now and he’s better so it’ll never happen again!” But (1) it’s mentioned exactly once, and (2) it’s not brought up nearly as often as Lyon being weak-willed, or Eirika “relying” on Ephraim protecting her, as flaws go. Which is its own issue, considering we never actually see Eirika relying on Ephraim at all. She didn’t actually need his help either time he showed up. Nice to have, but far from saving an unwinnable situation. We’re just told she always needs his help, because if she didn’t then Ephraim can’t be the cool twin who’s so good at war.

And that’s all that Ephraim is, and all he ever becomes. There’s no “learning to become a king.” He accepts that he’ll take the crown, but there’s really no reason to it aside from his penis. He’s the prince, so he gets to be king. Nevermind that Eirika’s route was more about establishing diplomatic ties, and that she’s by far the better leader. Ephraim gets to lead because reasons. All Ephraim does is charge into battles. We get exactly two establishing scenes of Ephraim’s leadership qualities, both of which are around war and not actual leadership in a governing sense. And get this! They’re both with Seth, who, again, is their kingdom’s best knight. And guess how both scenes go. You’ll never guess. Ephraim’s either just as keen as Seth, or is presented as the one in the right. Seth comes along as Ephraim’s advisor, but literally never has to advise, because Ephraim’s just so capable and good at this. And remember, this is the hero who never read a fucking book. Who copied all of Lyon’s homework, and couldn’t be asked to learn shit in his life. I’m fine with him being a strong soldier. Hell, I’m fine with him even having a keen sense for combat due to practical experience. But being able to keep up with or exceed Seth, who should be one of the best minds for fighting we have, is kind of annoying. At the very least, allow Seth to have some role as an advisor, rather than just...nothing.

At no point does Ephraim really learn or develop in any compelling way. He starts out great and ends great. Any flaws the narrative presents are solely as a backdrop, they’re never reflected in the story. Him being bad at studying and books never bites him in any way. Hell, it never even comes up, save for flashbacks and a singular comment the Demon King makes about Ephraim being “poorly educated,” which was more a taunt about him not immediately guessing Demon King. Ephraim suffers from exactly no faults ever.

This leads into the other big issue. Lyon. I do not like Ephraim-route Lyon. At all. There’s a lot that goes into this, but the short version is I actually think Eirika-route Lyon is more engaging, complex, and shows greater force of will.

Eirika-route Lyon presents as fully consumed by the Demon King. His soul is actively being devoured, and the beast within is winning. However, at certain points, Lyon takes back control. Briefly, but he’s trying. He fights back as much as he can, but it’s impossible to resist the Demon King’s control. His motivations are the same in both routes, and largely comes down to a desire to save his country and his people. He’s used the arcane arts to manipulate the energy radiating from the Sacred Stone that has the Demon King trapped within. He uses it to heal people, and see into the future to attempt preventing disaster. In Eirika’s route, the Demon King expresses more of the unresolved feelings for Eirika, and his inadequacy because Ephraim’s just so good. So like...they had a compelling tragedy going. I could absolutely believe a 17-year-old has inadequacy issues around the girl he likes, and that this would be an easy mark for an ancient eldritch evil. But the fact that it has to double back to Ephraim pisses me off. But we’re talking about Ephraim-route Lyon, so that’s enough paraphrasing her route.

Ephraim-route Lyon seems to present just as himself. On the surface, this seems like Lyon is showing greater willpower and resolve, right? He’s in control! He’s going to use the Demon King’s power to save Grado from impending disaster! That’s way more impressive, right?

Well, not really. Considering that Lyon acts in control, but is ultimately just going about this like a nitwit. Complaint #1: Lyon doesn’t act as in-character in this route. Ephraim even acknowledges it. Lyon’s peaceful, he’d never instigate a war over this. Like, this is an Edelgard move, not a Lyon move. But here we are, being told that Lyon, of his own will, started this war. Why?

Complaint #2: Because Vigarde sucks, for a start. In the last flashback, Lyon is talking to his dad, and expresses uncertainty about his ability to rule. Again, great in for the Demon King. But Lyon’s actually on this one. A major disaster was foreseen, and they need outside aid for their people to survive. Vigarde says Renais would never aid them, because they need to put their people first. There’s a bit of interesting consideration here, in that Renais, a smaller nation, probably can’t take in all the refugees that Grado would have. But like...Renais is friendly with Frelia, who could be persuaded to help. Rausten is all about charity like this, as the religious epicenter of the continent. What the fuck are you on about, Vigarde? Pinning literally all of this on Lyon to find a solution isn’t just cruel, it’s stupid and wrong. Get it together, asshole. How did you manage to not lead Grado into the ground? Was it hard to teach yourself to breathe through your ass, or is that natural talent?

Complaint #3: Lyon’s motivations are all over the place. This starts because he revives Vigarde, and this breaks the Sacred Stone, creating the Dark Stone that houses the Demon King. Okay cool, this is when the possession starts. But remember, they’re presenting this like Lyon’s in control. After this point, Lyon still takes leadership. He still makes the commands, through his father. And he instigates a war. Why? Well, they never really say. One answer is envy of Ephraim, and a desire to beat him. The other is self-sacrifice. He talks with Knoll about some documents that allegedly allow him to circumvent the foreseen history, and it involves human sacrifice and great magical power. He plans to use the Demon King’s power and his own sacrifice to accomplish this. But that...doesn’t explain the war. You could just kill yourself on your own time, dude. Like, hidden motivations include saving your people, but all of this was the worst possible method. If you anticipated latching on to other nations after your death ends the royal bloodline, then your people are now reviled for being instigators in a completely meaningless war. They’re less likely to get help than ever. If it was to conquer territory for them to move to before the catastrophe, then why self-sacrifice at all? The war now has a point, but nothing else does, because you’d have accomplished your goal through the war.

So basically, if Lyon’s in control, there are two possible motives for the war: showing off to beat Ephraim, or a pre-cursor to your self-sacrifice for some reason. Either way, it’s super shitty. Like really, what’s your motivation for enacting continental warfare? Complete disillusionment regarding mankind’s right to rule, and seeking to end strife through complete subjugation by another species that (allegedly) doesn’t feel the emotions that lead men to folly? The belief that war is inevitable and that living beings cannot help but kill one another for the most banal of reasons, and thus the most just course is to re-awaken their creator to put them all to an eternal rest? Recognition that the structure of society is so bad that people are constantly suffering and dying, and decided to stand up and tear the structures out by the roots through bloody conquest if necessary, in hopes of a better tomorrow? Or because your childhood friend’s dick was too huge and made you feel inadequate/you had to kill yourself and I guess this was the best you could come up with?

The more likely reason given how fucking incomprehensible his motivations are otherwise, is that the Demon King was always in full control. That Lyon was never actually in command of things, but thought he was, even as the Demon King ate away at him from within. This makes more sense, because it’s just...Demon King killing things for funsies. But it also means Lyon has 0 actual agency, and it’s even more just the demon king. In Eirika’s route, Lyon actually fights back and wrestles control, if just for brief moments at a time. But in Ephraim’s, the only implication that makes sense is that Lyon never had anything. He was never in control, and never even put up a fight. He was just easily duped into believing that these were his conscious decisions. Which makes Lyon a lot less compelling overall.

I just...I don’t like Sacred Stones. I figure that’s clear, but it’s good to be open about it. I feel like the game just tries so hard to make Ephraim the coolest thing ever, and every male character (except Seth) who interacts with Eirika is just obsessed with this notion of needing to be better than him before she’ll love them back. It’s why I can’t stand Innes. All their supports are is him being bullheaded and insisting that no, he has to protect her, because that’s how this is supposed to go, and he will be better than Ephraim so she’ll accept him. Fuck you, Innes. Though man, Lyon’s not much better. I can at least sympathize with Lyon’s feelings of inadequacy and uncertainty about Eirika reciprocating, but the fact that it all boils back down to Ephraim again...god, neither of them even consider Eirika in this. It’s all about Ephraim and your own dick-focused insecurities. At no point do either of you consider Eirika’s feelings in the matter, everything’s about you you you, and needing to be better than Ephraim who’s just too cool I guess. May as well rename this Toxic Masculinity: The Game at this rate.

tldr, Ephraim’s route sucks. Eirika’s route is at least a decent tragedy, but sidelines its main character too hard to really feel like her route. Lyon would be better off without Ephraim’s route. The end.

#fire emblem sacred stones #boy I am not a fan of this game

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storytime-hoe · 5 years

Text

Tough Love Ch.2

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x O/C

Summary: Story picks up during season three as the group goes into Woodbury to rescue Glenn and Maggie from the Governor. However, they pick up another prisoner of Woodbury, Emma (O/C). She is a thief who fears friendships after her hard losses. She stays on the move, studying communities from afar and then robbing them blind. She has stayed alive this way for a while until the Governor catches her in the act. Now she finds herself with the group from the prison in a mission to kill the Governor for what he has done to her. She plans on stealing supplies from the prison group after the Governor is killed, but she might be growing a little too close to the groups members, especially one man in particular: Daryl Dixon.

Warnings: Slow burn, language, usual twd violence, mentions of abuse/rape

Authors Note: First of all let me say HOLY SHIT! I never expected people to read what I write let alone actually like it. This is amazing! I love all of you who gave me feedback and if anyone wants to be tagged just let me know. Also I am trying my hand at digital art for the very first time and I might be making a few quick sketches for this series so if anyone is interested in that I might post them.

Previously: Ch.1

"What's your name?" Rick said, his voice a low rasp so as not to alert any nearby guards.

We were outside of Woodbury now, but we were not leaving quite yet. Daryl had gone out to cover us as we made a break for our exit. We were home free, only to find out that Daryl hadn't come out with us. Maggie immediately stated that we needed to go back in after him, but Rick was fumbling around in his own head for a plan at the moment. The way he held himself told me he wasn't quite right in the head at the moment, and loosing someone that he valued as much as Daryl was not helping his state of mind.

"Emma," I answered him as sternly as I could manage these days, which wasn't very impressive.

"We are going back in there," Rick explained, still planning things out in his mind. Glenn was in no shape to go back into Woodbury to fight. So, it looked like Maggie and Rick were going to be needing me. "You come with us. If you so much as think about running off, I'll kill you."

"That doesn't sound like a bad choice to me," I crooned with a sly look.

Death was exactly what I had wanted for days and days, but I wasn't ready to go now. The Governor might have killed what good was left in me, but he hadn't killed me. I had things left to offer the world, and I would only die once I decided I had nothing left. I was in control of me again, which felt strange, but nothing was going to change that. Not Rick. Not Daryl. Not the Governor.

Rick took my answer with consideration. He felt he had to persuade me to help them. Good. I sure as hell wasn't about to give my services for free.

"After you help us get Daryl back we will take you to our camp. Have our doctor look you over." He motioned to the bruises that covered my arms and the cuts that I could feel on my face. "After you're fed and taken care of, you can help us deal with the Governor. I'm sure you know plenty about him after your prison sentence with him."

Earlier he ordered me to come with them and I assumed I would be treated like a prisoner just the same as I was in Woodbury, but Rick wasn't coming off as the kind of person who would force me into anything. I was still wary of him, but he seemed like a true honest person at the moment and his words made me more willing to help them. Maybe that was his play? Maybe he wanted to come off as a good person in order to persuade me into doing what he wanted?

"What makes you think I want to help you fight the Governor?" I leaned my weight back on one leg and crossed my arms over my chest defiantly.

Maggie spoke up impatiently. "You've been a prisoner to him for how long now? And you mean to tell us you don't want a chance to put a bullet in his head?"

I stayed silent for a while and searched her eyes as she spoke. "What did he do to you?" I choked out, knowing the answer deep down. I knew she was the Governor's prisoner, but she didn't looked harmed in any way like Glenn did. My stomach seized at the thought of him coming onto someone else like he did me.

"Nothing I'm sure he didn't do to you," Maggie responded, the hurt visible in her eyes.

I clenched my jaw and swallowed hard. I could run away. I could run and never look back on Woodbury. I could leave and not give two shits about the Governor or the prison group anymore. But, deep down I knew I couldn't really do that. The Governor needed to be put down. He needed to be stopped before he hurt anyone else like he did me. Like I assumed he did Maggie.

Besides, I guess I owed the archer for sparing me. Daryl. The face of the man with the crossbow flashed into mind again. I could still see him after he found me in the room in Woodbury. I replayed the moment over and over again in my head. He was the first person to spare me. Even Rick was an asshole upon first meeting me. Daryl might've looked a little sorry for me even, but he was someone who was just like me. He was a survivor. And he had a certain understanding about me that no one had since my brother...

"Michonne?" Maggie's voice cut through my thoughts. She aimed her gun at a dark skinned girl who had just crawled out into view.

"Did you get what you came for?" Rick hissed as he took away the only weapon she had, a katana.

She looked drained. Her breaths were short and quick and all the cuts on her oozed out thick blood onto her face and arms. She leaned against the old train car that she had emerged from under. Her leg was gushing an unhealthy amount of blood from a deep stab wound.

I focused in on her as she argued back and forth with Rick. She had come here with them to save Glenn and Maggie, but apparently split off from the mission. There was something about her... a determination for whatever she had gone after inside of Woodbury. She split off from the group for something so important to her. No. Someone.

"You went after him," I said knowingly. Her eyes flicked to mine as she analyzed me as well, a new face to her, but she stayed silent. "You went after the Governor," I pressed on.

Rick shifted back on his foot and looked at her accusingly.

"I got you here," she countered. "To save them."

"Thanks for the help," Rick curtly stated.

"You'll need help to get them back to the prison or to go back in there for Daryl. Either way," Michonne finished, "you need me."

"Me too," I spoke up, declaring that I was on board with them. All eyes were on me. I gnawed at my lip as I coninued. "I know everything there is to know about this place. And I happen to know that if they captured Daryl, he is about to face off in the arena. They did that with me on my first night."

Rick rolled his neck and looked at me, taking his usual terrifying stare off of Michonne for a moment. "Arena?"

"They had me in there with some other poor kid they captured. A fight to the death. You know, gladiator battle type of thing."

"That's sick," Maggie said with her gun still pointed at Michonne steadily.

"Well, they think it's fun."

"So, you agreeing to help us now?"

I shrugged, not wanting to have to explain myself to this stranger, but I felt that she understood why I was ready to march into battle again. I needed to end the Governor and getting back their man would help us in the long run. Plus, I owed Daryl for getting me out of Woodbury, and I didn't like owing anyone. I would get him out even if it meant going back into the devil's den.

"Fine," Rick said. "So, how are we doing this?"

Everyone leaned in, eager to here a rescue plan. They were all willing to follow me, someone they just met, in order to get back a friend. We were all willing to do anything if it meant the Governor wouldn't like it, as a matter of fact.

It looked like the Governor was pissing off all of the wrong people these days.

My legs ached from being in a crouching position for too long. I was back inside the gates of Woodbury, trying not to panic at being back, with Rick and Maggie behind me. Glenn had complained, but we made him stay behind with Michonne and wait for us to return.

I sat back against the building we were using as cover. The streets of Woodbury were deserted. Everyone was getting ready for the battle at the arena. The arena was encircled by three towering buildings. The memory of my first night at Woodbury hit me hard. I could remember my rival in the arena that night. We were both scared shitless and confused. When the Governor told us to fight to the death, the girl I was to fight looked like she was going to piss herself. She was unwilling to do what it took to survive. But not me. I was full of spirit and ready to fight every man and woman in Woodbury if it meant I could get a chance to escape. I had just lost my brother. After that event I said fuck everyone else and became a selfish raging monster. I was then and I still am. So, I took my chance with the terrified girl. I was going to live no matter what it took. And it took the life of another innocent human.

I turned my head to the ground in shame. Then the gunshot of commencement and yells of the people rung through the air, bringing me out of my episode of depression.

The fight was beginning.

I dashed around the corner and caught sight of the arena through the crowd of people. The orange glow of fire lit up the area casting shadows of the crowd onto the tall buildings in a haunting manner. The Governor was yelling out some bullshit speech that I couldn't hear well over the cheers of the people. That's when I caught sight of Daryl. The crowd went wild when they tore the bag off of his head, revealing him as one of the men from the group at the prison.

"I see him," I let Rick know behind me. "Maggie, get back to the top of the gate. Give us cover once we get to him. Rick, you should stay here. Wait for my signal."

"You know me!" I heard the voice of Merle before I saw him in the arena with Daryl.

Rick squinted over at the arena like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Is that Merle?"

I didn't know how much this group knew about Merle, but so far I could tell they knew enough to always talk about him with a disgusted tone.

"Looks like Merle is his rival for today." I saw enough through the crowd to see that Merle was not holding back. He swung hard at Daryl and brought him to the ground, out of my line of sight.

I felt my eyes widen in the surprise. I had seen enough of Merle for a lifetime, and I knew him well by now. Images of him snarling and spitting in my face flashed before my eyes. He treated be harshly in Woodbury, but during the moments when Merle was not brutal with me, I saw that he only followed orders. That was what he was doing now too. The Governor needed him to kill Daryl in order to prove himself loyal.

But I couldn't believe that Merle would even go against his brother for the Governor. I thought back to the times when Merle talked about raising his little brother because his parents were shit. Merle talked to me a lot about the past, mostly because no one else in Woodbury listened to him, the high tempered redneck, when he was feeling sorry for himself, and I had no choice in the matter.

When he told me his brother was out there, that was the first time he started to doubt the Governor. Yet he always chickened out of his plans of finding Daryl. Still, I always wanted him to be a better person, but I should've known better. I clenched my jaw at the current sight of him beating the shit out of the little brother he claimed to love so much.

"Bastard," I snarled and tighten my grip on my knife so my knuckles turned white. "He'll beat him to death. Because that's what the Governor wants him to do." And he always listens to that prick. No matter what.

"Yeah, I know." Rick checked the scope on his gun and turned back to me. "Get out there and look for an opening. We won't fire until you make the move."

I nodded, confirming the plan we had previously discussed and mentally preparing myself for the mission I had sent myself on. "Got it."

"Get him out alive," Rick's eyes looked into my soul when he spoke to me. It was like he was willing me to be successful in getting Daryl back. As if he could control that.

"Got it," I repeated slightly uncomfortable. I knew his archer man was top priority, even over me.

"And be careful." He looked like he actually meant that. Which was surprising for me. No one had cared about me in a long ass time. It felt nice that he warned me to be safe, even if he didn't mean it and even if he was just using me.

I turned to go but he grabbed my wrist before I could. I tensed up out of habit. I knew that only bad things happened when I was being grabbed anymore. I was stuck with awe when he pressed a small gun into my hand.

I looked up at him questioningly and he simply nodded saying, "Just in case."

This time he finally let me go out away from the building and into the crowd. Even though I should be worried about being recognized, my mind was preocupied with why Rick was trusting me so much. After spending too much time with the Governor, it just didn't make any sense. I needed his trust if we were going to work together in killing the Governor. Just because I trusted him though, didn't mean we had to be friends. I really didn't want to get close enough to care about any of these people. I was just helping them with a job. That was it. That was all I needed it to be.

The crowd around me erupted with a fresh wave of intense screaming. I pushed around bodies to the front of the crowd just in time to see Merle standing over Daryl. They were talking with each other, but I couldn't make out their words. However, the look in Merle's eyes told me he had something up his sleeve. I glanced over at the Governor who was sporting a new bandage over his eye. He was too distracted by something to notice Merle secretly planning with his brother.

I turned to follow the Governor's line of sight to see four men bring out Walkers on leashes. This wasn't part of the fight when I was shoved in the arena long ago, they must've gotten bored with the blantant murdering of people.

The adrenaline coursed through my veins. I hadn't enjoyed that feeling in a very long time and I was pleasured with every second of the anticipation of a battle. I couldn't hold myself back any longer as I leaped out into the arena. I raised up the gun Rick had lent me and fired at the Walker that stood directly in front of the Governor. The Walker fell and a one eyed glare landed on me, unwavering. I held his cold stare with an amount of brute that I didn't think I had in me anymore.

The crowd took notice to my identity, they had seen me as a champion of the arena before. They thought it was all part of the show. And the Governor didn't intervene to tell them any different. He stood like a statue as if he could kill me with his stern look. Anxiety rose in my chest but I forced it away. I wasn't here for him just yet. I had a job to do.

"Well, well, look who decided to join the party," crooned Merle, who was standing back to back with his brother now, ready to fight the Walkers with him as they were pushed closer to them. Daryl had his hands up, ready to pounce. His eyes landed on me with recognition and a million silent questions. I gave him one solid nod that I was here for him and tossed him the gun. My knife was more of my weapon of choice.

Merle looked ready to argue with his brother for the gun, but the shout from Rick from his hiding spot signaled for a spray of gunfire. I dropped to the ground as Maggie fired from the wall. Smoke filled the area and gunfire and shouts echoed in my ears. People were dropping dead everywhere around me. I gripped my knife tight in my hands as I pressed down on the sand and prayed I wouldn't get shot.

Just as I was about to stand again someone kicked my hand that held the knife. It went flying out of my reach and another kick was delivered to my stomach. I groaned and curled in on myself. My injuries that were beginning to heal from Merle's beatings earlier in the week were being freshened up as a boot came down hard on my chest. I looked up just in time to see the Governor's face as he reached down for me.

My mind seized with terror at the thought of what he would do to me if he got me back. I wanted to cry out of failure, but the fire in me sparked. I was not about to let him fuck me over again. Not ever. He didn't own me and didn't control me. At least that is what I was trying to convince myself.

I kicked him between the legs and the pain was enough for him to loosen his grip on my shirt. I saw this as an opportunity to stretch out for the knife that was resting in the dirt. As soon as my fingers closed around the handle, I didn't hesitate to swing the blade at him ferociously. Every part of me wanted to slice him to pieces. He took out his gun to fight back, but an explosion went off, sending us both flat to the ground.

My head buzzed and I didn't even process that someone was pulling me back up. Thinking it was the Governor again, I pulled my fist back at a lame attempt to swing at him. I almost collapsed out of loss when a hand caught my fist before it got the chance to collide with anything at all. It took me a few disbelieving blinks to realize it wasn't the Governor that was holding me upright, but Daryl Dixon. His eyes told me clear as day that if I tried to swing at him again he would put me back down on my ass. I took the silent threat with grace and let him half drag me out of the gates of Woodbury.

I remember seeing flashes of Rick firing his weapon from behind us and yelling, but his voice was muffled to my ears. My vision was a blur and Daryl had to help me walk, up until we were well in the woods and out of Woodbury. The entire walk to the car where Glenn and Michonne waited was a painful one. Every muscle in my body ached and blood dripped down from my eyebrow every now and again. My lungs burned more and more with every breath.

We reached the car parked by the road just as the sun was rising. Glenn appeared from behind it, his sights immediately landing on Maggie. I anticipated some repulsing yet adorable scene from a romance movie to start playing out, but then Glenn started screaming at someone. My mind was still a scattered mess, watching Rick hold out an arm and keep Glenn back from whoever he was yelling at.

I turned slowly to see who the center of the commotion was. I should've known this jackass was what was standing in the way of a peaceful ride back to the prison. Of course Merle-fucking-Dixon had to make it out of Woodbury with us.

Tags:

@daryldixonandfrogs

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lfthinkerwrites · 5 years

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When in Rome

So here’s the second of my series of romantic oneshots, this time focusing on the professional and personal relationship of RiddleCat!

“How long as it been since we’ve been in Rome?” Edward asked from the other side of the table. “Five years?”

”I think so,” Selina said. The pair were sitting on the outdoor seating area of a charming cafe across the street from the Trevi Fountain. The marble statues were just visible through the massive throng of tourists that were crowded around taking pictures and tossing coins over their shoulders. They were in Rome ostensibly on business, but Edward had insisted on getting up early to see some of the sights before the tourists overwhelmed them. Selina supposed she could indulge him just this once. The fact that he was footing the bill for their lunch helped make up for being dragged out of their hotel at six in the morning. She took a sip of her drink and smiled at her partner. "Having fun?"

Edward nodded, then took a bite out of his cannoli before he responded. "I have to say, it's certainly an improvement over the last time we were here."

Selina rolled her eyes. The less they talked about that fiasco, the better. "That was your fault, you know. You'd better not be planning on trying on my suit again."

Edward chuckled and took another piece of cannoli. "Oh, you're just bitter that it fit me better."

"Keep eating cannoli like that and it won't," Selina teased. She let out a laugh at the offended look on Edward's face which gave way to a pout. She leaned across the table to kiss him on the cheek. "I'm sorry baby, that was mean. Do you still want to go to the Pantheon before we head to the Palazzo Barberini?"

A smile came back to Edward's face. "Let me get the check and we'll be on our way."

What a pair we make, Selina thought as they left the cafe and strolled about the Trevi district. The only concession Selina would make to the cobblestone streets were a pair of simple if still stylish black flats. Otherwise, with her black dress, wide-brimmed hat and her dark shades, she looked the part of a heroine from Fellini. In contrast, Edward was, while still dressed well, in much more casual clothing than he typically wore, without so much of a hint of green. Selina didn't even know he owned a short-sleeved shirt. He stopped them every few minutes during their wanderings to point out a landmark, or to spout off some bit of historical trivia, or to take pictures. Every so often, Selina would pull them into a boutique, or insist on getting a picture of the two together, occasionally stealing a kiss. To anyone else, they looked like a pair of tourists on a romantic holiday.

Well, who would expect that the Riddler and Catwoman, two of the most notorious thieves in Gotham City's history, would choose to take a job in Rome of all places?

After they had walked from the Pantheon and back to the fountain, he checked his watch. "Well, it's 2:00. Should we head over?" Selina didn't miss the trace of disappointment in his voice

"Yep, it's about that time." She reached out to squeeze his hand. "We'll have more time after we finish the job."

"I know." Then he set his shoulders and outstretched his hand. "Shall we, my dear?" he said in that brassy, smarmy way of his that entertained and irritated her in equal parts.

Selina smirked. "After you."

There were still tourists in the Palazzo Barberini when they arrived at a quarter past three. The art hung on the walls in a classic way, free from the barriers and alarms that kept most pieces in the Gotham art museum protected. Selina had admired many of the old masterpieces, but her attention was caught by the Holbein portrait of Henry VIII. She stood in front of it for a time, considering the artwork. It truly was a spectacular piece. She tapped a finger alongside her chin. And it was going to be a challenge to get out of here and to its buyer.

"I'll never understand the general population's fascination with the Tudors," Edward huffed. "No offense to Good Queen Bess, but her forefathers are somewhat lacking."

Selina shrugged. "Sex, religion, and violence. What's not to be fascinated by?"

"The Plantagenets are far more interesting. Or the Stewarts even. Henry VIII was a narcissistic, self-indulgent fool who if he were alive today would probably be the star of one of those tawdry reality shows you force me to watch."

Selina gently nudged him with her elbow. "Don't pretend you don't enjoy them just a little bit. Besides, even if you don't find Henry interesting, the jet-setting mogul who's paying us $2 million for him does."

Edward gave a quick nod. "Fair enough. You've had time to scope out the security?"

"Of course." The paintings weren't the only thing Selina had her eye on in the old palace. She'd been keeping an eye on the guards on their patrols out of the corner of her eyes, committing their routine to her memory, just as she had for the past three days since they'd arrived in Rome and had come to the Palazzo, at a different time each day to avoid suspicion. Edward had been doing reconnaissance work in his own way, both in the gallery and in their hotel room, hunched over his computer. "The guards change their shift every hour. There's always at least two at all times. How about on your end?"

Edward hummed. "It's all taken care of. The Paris Protocol is ready for tonight."

"Eddie, I told you I don't like that name."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Well for one, we first did it in London."

"Paris fits better! Think of the alliteration!"

Selina made a small, dismissive noise. "Eddie, baby, why do I bring you out in public?"

Despite her misgivings about the name, the 'Paris Protocol' went off without a hitch, and by 3 am, the pair and their ill-gotten gain were in the Roman penthouse of Massimo di Carlo, a trust fund bum (with an emphasis on bum, Edward was fond of pointing out) with a tan that would make the Gotham guidos jealous and far too much of Daddy's money to spend. He had the portrait in his hands and a gleeful smile on his face. "Bravissimo!" he cried. He handed the painting to a retainer and clapped his hands. "Now, $2 million, yes? Would you like a check or-"

"Direct deposit will do just fine," Edward said. He handed di Carlo a small slip of paper. "This is the account information."

"Of course." Di Carlo snapped his fingers and another attendant stepped forward. "Alexander, see that this is taken care of." He handed the man the slip of paper, then crossed over to a table with a bottle of wine and two glasses on it. He poured himself a glass, then he filled the other glass and held it out towards Selina. "Would you care for a drink?" Selina didn't miss the fact that while he was speaking to her, his eyes were on her chest. Or that Edward had noticed and that his green eyes were narrowed.

"No thank you," Selina declined, holding her hand up.

di Carlo shrugged, then sat down on his plush red velvet sofa. "I imagine that you must have many stories about your exploits. Perhaps I could persuade you to stay and tell me about them?" Once again, he was only talking to Selina. She had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. Rich playboys were the same in Gotham and Rome alike.

"We really should be going," Edward said. "We've had a long day after all."

di Carlo ignored him entirely and raised his glass in Selina's direction. "Perhaps another $500,000 could convince you to stay the night?"

A noise from indignation came out of Edward's mouth and he stepped forward, no doubt ready to bash the spoiled brat's head in. Selina held him back with one hand against his chest. "Down boy. I can handle this." Selina then stepped forward, sauntering up to di Carlo where he sat, ignoring the smug look on his face. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Massimo," she purred. Then she leaned down and gripped him on the shoulder tightly, relishing the hiss of pain and the look of fear on his face. "But I'm not for sale. And for the record? Mine and Edward's relationship is more than professional." di Carlo's face went pale when the full magnitude of the mistake he'd made dawned on him. "I think we'll each take an extra $500,000 each as an apology." di Carlo nodded. Selina let him go and tugged Edward toward the door. "Ciao Massimo."

Selina woke up at noon in their hotel suite, $1.5 million richer. She stepped out of the shower and noticed that Edward was sitting in front of the TV, a smug look on his face. "Did we make the news?" she asked, grabbing a cup of coffee that he's prepared.

Edward chuckled. "In a way."

Selina arched an eyebrow, then turned her attention to the flatscreen. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw none other than Massimo di Carlo on the TV, being led away in handcuffs by the police. The newscaster spoke in Italian "Heir to the di Carlo fashion line arrested on charges of art theft this morning in Rome! The police received an anonymous tip that the Henry VIII painting that was stolen from the Palazzo Barberini was in di Carlo's penthouse. di Carlo has issued no comment."

Selina turned to Edward. "Eddie. Baby. You didn't."

Edward grinned. "I did."

Selina shook her head and laughed. "Aren't you a vindictive little thing."

Edward shrugged. "That's what he gets for propositioning my girl. The best part is, even if he suspects that it was me, he can't say so without admitting he hired us."

"So we get $1.5 million apiece and Henry VIII goes back home. A happy ending all around." Selina tilted his chin down to plant a soft kiss on his lips. Then she reached up to ruffle Edward's hair and laughed again at the protest he let out. "So what's on the agenda today? The Coliseum?"

Edward's eyes lit up and he lay out his travel plans for the day, including a walk by the Vatican. Selina nodded her approval, and the two set off for their romantic holiday.

#riddlecat #eh #not that happy with it but oh well

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questions-for-sherlock · 5 years

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The Latest Case

So, I believe I promised you all a post about our latest case, so here it is. It all began Thursday morning when I went into work at the surgery. I know what you’re thinking, “How is that relevant?” Just wait. It was right after lunch when someone came in, a young man with a strange pattern of cuts on his back. They were small, straight cuts arranged into a circle, seemingly expertly done. I thought it was unique, I’d never seen anything leave marks like that on someone’s skin before, so I brought up the normal, casual, boring, doctor small talk. “What caused this? It’s a very… unique set of cuts.” I asked him. Of course, he stated that he didn’t know, that’s what they all do. So, I finished up with him and sent him on his way. The day continued on as normal after that, nothing particularly interesting, the occasion flu, kids with snotty noses, getting germs everywhere. Boring.

I came home a few hours later to find Sherlock in his chair reading over possible cases. Just as he was when I left (He had moved, Rosie had eaten and was napping on the sofa). “John, come look at this, see what you can make of it.” He said, his magnificent voice flowing through the air, I walked over and sat on the arm of the chair, looking at his laptop. I saw the markings on a body, a dead body, the same markings that the man from the surgery had. “Lestrade sent me these. There’s been two bodies found so for, both with those markings. No leads on who is killing them. Seems interesting enough.”

“I’ve seen those marks, there was a patient that had them, same placement and everything. Of course, he wouldn’t tell me where they came from.” I explain to him, “Of course if a detective from Scotland Yard happened to ask, I believe he may be persuaded to tell, don’t you?” He didn’t respond, I didn’t expect him too. I knew he was listening but too interested in the perfect circle of straight cuts on the woman’s right shoulder. By no means could those alone be the cause of death.

Sherlock, as always, already knew this, as smart as he is. He contacted Lestrade that he would take the case, stating he normally wouldn’t but as he was “dying of boredom” it was “Better than beating his head against the wall”. I’m not going to get into how Sherlock figured out who the patient with the scars was, I truthfully don’t know myself. I didn’t bother asking figuring I wouldn’t want to know, and wouldn’t understand if he did explain, but somehow, he did manage to figure it out. As always there was then an adventure to the man’s flat. It doesn’t matter how many times I go with him on cases like this, it’s still strange to show up at a stranger’s place uninvited, especially when I’ve already met him and am sure he remembers me as a polite, normal, boring doctor. I briefly explained the situation to him, and Sherlock took over from there. The man (remaining nameless for safety purposes) wasn’t very helpful in the investigation, or at least we didn’t think so at the time, later on the information we gained by talking to him was very useful. He explained to Sherlock that he didn’t see who the people were. “I went to bed, I don’t know what happened, but I woke up the next morning and I wasn’t in my bed. I was on a carpeted floor in a place I’ve never seen before. The walls were dark, the room was dark. I never really saw the people, they were all wearing creepy masks.” He explained. “They? There’s multiple people?” Sherlock asked, picking up on it as quickly as always. “I think so? The same mask every time but the person was different heights. Sometime tall and others quite short. As I said I didn’t really see the face but…it seems like a good guess?” “Why didn’t you go to the police?” I ask at the same time Sherlock asked, “Why didn’t they kill you?” I glare at him and shake my head, a good question but not the most polite thing to ask. —I’m going to be honest with you here, I’m not John and at this point I’m tired of attempting to mimic his writing style. If you want him to finish the story tell him. I’m going to finish this for now though — So basically, the guy was told not to go to the police by the gang (they were a gang, we figure that out) obviously. He was told he would be killed if he did tell anyone. Apparently, they took him thinking he was someone else and didn’t want to kill the wrong people. This let us know that they had a list, specific people they were taking out, we just had to figure out what they all had in common. We spent quite a while looking into all the things the people did, where they went, what they bought, what they did for fun. After extensive research we learned that they were all in martial arts classes, not the easiest of people to kill if you ask me. We also discovered that the living victim did not go there it was looking good. We, John and I, went there (broke in) and had a look around. It was clear from the second we entered that the place was sketchy, a look into their paperwork only made it worse. After having a little look around, we found more signs of strange things happening, things laying around that was not, in no way, necessary in a martial arts class. It was only right that I went to the class they were having that evening and participated (it had nothing to do with me missing taking those classes, nothing at all). I deduced what I could during that class between sparring matches. The teacher seemed to be a quite angry man and had quite a few favorite students, in the creepiest of ways. I’m not going to get into the weird messed up stuff I managed to deduce about the relationships there. It was just disturbing and slightly haunting, but the fact remained, we had found our killers. The only thing that was left was finding a way prove it was them. That wasn’t as simple as it sounds, though it was just as fun. John and I had a chance to go undercover… kind of. We followed the 4 people. It’s really easy to prove someone is a murderer when you watch them throw someone into the boot of a car when the person was unconscious, though it took many hours for us to see them doing it. Okay that doesn’t mean that they’re murderers, by that standard, Mrs. Hudson would be one, but it definitely isn’t a sign to clear their name. I recognized the person being kidnapped as someone else from the class as well, though it wasn’t making sense why they were kidnapping and killing these people. They had no clear motive. Anyway, we’ll get back to that. What followed was a great chase across London as John called Lestrade. I’ve been informed, by myself, that chasing them probably wasn’t the greatest idea, there was some damage done, they were in a car and I was running after them…again, seems familiar. It put the strange gang off and they wouldn’t go to the place they had been using for killing, eventually though Scotland Yard managed to show up, later than necessary really, as always, and stopped them (They had cars). They were arrested, new victim sent to the hospital. I said they were arrested though it wasn’t quite that simple, 3 strong, fit men and 2 women against 3 police officers, an ex-army captain and a consulting detective with a black belt, more fair than you may think, though we all have injuries remaining for this fight, some worse than others. John injured his bad shoulder, thus me typing this out instead of him. He’s lying on the couch with an ice pack at the moment, his head on my lap. I’m taking care of him. Anyway, back to the case. The cuts on the backs of the victims were made with a small knife, a scalpel really, covered in poison, different way of killing but efficient nonetheless. After a talk with the gang and a talk with the surviving victim it was discovered that the victims were killed for declining to join them and their strange relationship/gang. A bit harsh if you ask me but whatever floats their vote (John informed me it’s boat, not vote). After all of this the question remains, why did the guy live? The one that John saw to at the surgery. Apparently one of the members was new and was supposed to kill the guy as part of an initiation used the wrong drug, just gave the guy a pleasant high, not killing him at all. After he didn’t die, they realized he was the wrong guy anyway. Honestly these people are complete idiots. Mistakes were made and as a result of that the case was easily solved. I do not have John’s writing ability for things like this. I’m going back to stating facts, and solving cases, not writing about them. He is definitely the blogger, the one I need. Also, this was the most simple and cliché case I’ve ever seen. I don’t know what NSY was doing that they didn’t figure this out, probably had their heads shoved so far up their…anyway. I’m beginning to wonder if this was even how the case went at all, I’ve probably messed up the whole story by this point, I miss something and catch others. John seems to be able to pick the correct things to include in a way that I cannot. You get the general idea though. The next case that is posted John should be back to writing, I’ve had an attempt, not fun. I must go, my man is injured so I have a daughter to put to bed and then get John to bed as well.

#this is probably terrible but hey #I tried #Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock RP #Sherlock #john watson #johnlock #John x Sherlock #john watson rp #ask john watson #John Watson blog entry #parentlock #parentlock rp #sherlock fic #sherlock drabble

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tuwam · 5 years

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comfort.

‘are you okay hanna?’ jamie asks, with snickers that she can’t keep in from across the table. “no.” and as she says it, hanna’s feels another itch at her skin, causing her head to fall promptly back on the desk.

[ the soulmate au where once you meet your soulmate, it’s physically uncomfortable to be apart from them for too long. ft. minna @rosaeau ]

rewind to a few months ago.

hanna didn’t need a damn tutor. she was a good student, no matter what her english professor said. she mentions that she has dreams of entering the new york fashion scene and her father jumps at the chance to flaunt his money.

“it’s a bad idea pop.” they’re at the kitchen table when he suggests the idea, his ridiculous money themed apron on while his mother makes sure he doesn’t burn another pancake that he tries to flip. hanna’s father is - a joke. to her and her mother. a joke that her mother can’t seem to get enough of and while he almost lands the pancake on her face both of them are laughing. hanna for a few seconds before she returns to her previous statement. “i don’t need a tutor.”

while he looks like he might cave, her mother is the one to grab the skillet handle and fix hanna with a look. her dad’s easy to persuade, her mother, not so much. for the life of her, hanna sits there and tries to figure out how the two of them can possibly match. her father, gambling addict, tycoon owner whose about as silly as they come when he steps out of his world with flashing lights. her mother, stubborn, hard-working and caring less about money unless it’s to keep her going, keep her free. her mother’s stubborn but her father’s persistent.

she watches them wrestle for the skillet before her mother’s expertly flipping one. naturally, it’s the one thing she doesn’t get about soulmates. she’s heard so much about it, and is told she’s lucky to be able to see it up close. it’s unpredictable and apparently the talk of the world.

soulmates. not in the way people write them in stories, dreams them up when they talk about how they wish romance to be. actual soulmates, destined to be by something that humans can’t quite comprehend. because each story is different, all everyone knows is once you know you know. by something less cheesy than a spark in a kiss or a tug on the heart. something physical, almost biological.

hanna doesn’t know the details, she just knows her parents had that experience and now they’re never apart. it’s cute, but she’s trying to win a case here, so she’s boring holes into her father’s resolve.

‘you’re not paying attention in classes hanna.’ “noted. still don’t need a tutor.” ‘you don’t care about anything that’s not fashion hanna.’ “noted. but i don’t need a tutor.”

‘at least try it out seol.’ a tough blow. a low blow. hanna regards her father with a glare before she’s grabbing her things to head to her first class.

hurray for econ.

‘he used your name?’ hanna’s only solace from these troubles are jamie. jamie who is greeting her outside of class with a chocolate mocha and hanna could kiss her. could, but she’s too busy sipping at the drink and relishing it all. the joy and wonders of a mocha on a hot day. “he knows I won’t say no.” the decision to go by hanna came from the time spent with her mother, just a little joke about the flowers she’d put on her designs when she was younger. she’s far past the flower-dazzle stage but the name stuck. ‘okay but, you don’t study for english, they’re not wrong.’ “whose side are you even on these days, the disrespect.” ‘just try it out, it might be good? if not i’ll learn it just to tutor you.’ “your lover boy might be mad but just to humor myself, i will.”

jamie makes a motion, maybe to fight the lover boy comment but hanna is too busy dashing up the library stairs.

the thing is, she knows she’s not paying enough attention to her english class. simply because when she’d expressed her interest in the new york market, she meant learning a bit for her visit there. learning the essentials and not the fundamentals of the language. of course her father is who he is, a renown businessman and if there was one thing he drove home it was that she should never half-ass anything. family drawings in elementary school - have hers at the top. golf carts races with her family - first place. if she wanted to be in fashion, she had to conquer. she had to explain to him why couture houses just - wasn’t a possibility in this day and age.

the rest was very much doable. her competitive streak comes from him no doubt. but, she wasn’t to blame if she just wasn’t that into her english class as she was her other classes. the business classes were a necessity and well the fashion classes were just that. long before she realized she was failing even vocabulary quizzes because of lack of studying, and they were so far into the grammar components she couldn’t catch up.

it was frustrating but she’d be damned if she let anyone else know that.

aside from jamie hanna had accumulated something of a reputation on their campus. other than the reputation that came with her father’s empire, she was simply known for being a socialite. being at parties but never interacting with people, just shining in diamonds she just had to bat her lashes to get. for that, hanna just liked to try new designs around the masses, she didn’t even enjoy the parties, but the image must be maintained for the goal ahead. really, most of her time is spent with jamie. when people sit and gossip to one another, whether about her or the newest soulmate phenomenon, she’s never a part of it.

only now she hears the giggling behind her when jamie finds a spot for them to set up shop. hanna’s econ books thrown around while jamie tosses her english book atop them all.

'apparently, sam’s friends. joon and ahyeon?’ hanna makes a hum that she’s listening, though her eyes show she’s contemplating opening this damned book. ‘they’re soulmates and he’s having a hard time stopping them from killing each other.’ “huh?” when she does look up jamie is engrossed in her phone, as usual, and hanna gets revenge by dropping her huge ethics book on top of her pile. jamie’s jump in her seat and scandalized look is just the reaction she’d expected. ‘he won’t say rather- he says he doesn’t know why. they’re antsier than usual.’ “makes you wonder if it’s all really a good thing? or if the match up is legit.”

‘well, it worked for your parents.’

another hum.

“i suppose.”

hanna just doesn’t enjoy the thought of having no control, can’t really fathom how her mother handled it. but it’s not something she needs to think about - and it’s joon and ahyeon’s problem not her own. she has english to pretend to study so that jamie will give her sketchbook back.

if there’s one thing hanna loves more than anything (and jamie) it’s being right.

‘it could’ve have been all bad.’ see it’s been a week and some days since her father committed to getting her tutors. she’s had to try a tutor each day and hanna’s damn near ready to rip her hair out.

it’s been, a wild few days. and jamie’s expression shows she’s enjoying the insufferable stories more than she should. if it weren’t for the vanilla bean that’s before her, hanna might actually forego the entire story. but she’d been right, this was a bad idea.

day one.

hanna’s on-time. tired from studying all night for her art history class, fingers patched from an accident with her sewing machine. granted, she wasn’t in the best mood from the beginning. she’s on-time though, her books and pencil case laid out neatly on the cafe table. a cafe table of all places.

he comes, and it’s a guy because he’s announcing his presence before he even sits down. there’s nothing really wrong with him, he’s a little loud, a few minutes late but hanna’s always a little too punctual so it’s understandable. what she remembers is that he dressed nice and she’s sure she has a business class with him.

'okay let’s get right to it shall we?’ he’s the asshat who talks too much because he wants everyone to know that he knows too much and wants too much. in short, greedy. ‘let’s test your knowledge of english first alright?’ his name is minhyun and hanna had never wanted a death note faster in her twenty two years of living.

because the test was the problem. not his perfectly combed up hair, or his perfect teeth, or the tailored suit he always fucking wears to class because he has to be that business major. hell his accent wasn’t even the problem. it was the test - with questions specifically tailored to her understanding of business and her father. as well as a reading comprehension that was simply a list of his achievements. the nerve.

“do you just want to cut a deal with my dad?” ‘what? no - what?’ his english was surprisingly good here. ‘however, if it were possible, could you slide him the resume?’ when her coffee arrived she was sure to pour it all over that damned exam and leave.

( jamie promptly laughed at this one because ‘hanna you didn’t’ and hanna took one more sip before saying ‘yes i did’. )

day two.

they meet in the student courtyard, hanna taking the time to attempt to sunbathe and lower her blood pressure. it as a nice day which meant crop tops and athletic leggings, seeing as she’d just come from a run. something to clear her mind before this english tutoring completely consumed her. hopefully the heat would do it first.

here’s the thing. hanna works out, has to work out if maybe one day she has to model her pieces for someone. technically she’s always modeling her pieces, plus her mother is a workout buff so she’s always at the gym. her figure is exceptional though it’s hidden behind her fashion.

so, she’s not confused when she feels eyes on her. they’re college students but apparently some of the male students are as shameless as ever. no one could be as shameless as minhyun so she’s ready to give a proper scolding, when she recognizes the face.

well not at first. but she should’ve.

“unless you plan on never having kids, i’d look away.” a cough and the male standing above her is tumbling apologies. ‘i’m your tutor, seolhyun-ssi.’ which is weird because few people call her by her full name. hanna is curling her legs under her before gesturing out for him because what. the. fuck?

the test was fine. the test was actually alright, aside from the outdated questions that she’s sure she’s seen somewhere before. no the test wasn’t the problem, the fact that they were outdoors wasn’t, and certainly not that he called her by her name. the problem was that he couldn’t keep his eyes off her while she took the test, or while she spoke. it’s one look, one particular look before hanna remembers.

“don’t you work for my father?” ( it’s at this point in the story that jamie yells out a ‘nooooo’ ) ‘ah, so you remember me?’ she remembers him, remembers his long-standing crush on her and him bothering her each time she went to visit one of the hotels. it was creepy. this was creepier. “uh-huh. two minutes before I call my father’s guards.” he was off like a light.

hanna was exasperated.

the next one, a girl her age who apparently was korean-american. a girl who spent half the time just swapping instagram feeds and asking for pictures and tours of hanna’s closet. it hit a limit when hanna caught her taking pictures of her designs. she’d almost broken her phone - instead she factory reset it. she’d accepted the praise her mother had given her and the high five jamie had given her when she heard.

the one after that - an older woman because yes that was the problem age. an older woman who aside from being entirely too punctual was going on and on about the history of english and it’s arrival into korea. then she proceeded to discuss why english was important and should be studied before she addressed that hanna was not studying english and was studying fashion and why that was bad. yeah, when that tirade started, hanna just up and left.

It doesn’t help that the one for the next day had ended up rescheduling and hanna – didn’t have it in her to accept nor decline, she just didn’t have the energy to deal with another joke.

she was tired of playing tutor roulette.

‘just drop english.’ Is jamie’s final answer after hanna’s given her the full rundown of her week, head lowered until her forehead’s almost touching the top of her drink. “my father wouldn’t let me dare.” It’s her ego too, her ego that won’t let her just give up on it and while Jamie knows, she’d rather hanna sit in her own stubbornness than tell her about it. she does however, offer a comforting hand to ruffle hanna’s hair like she always does giving hanna time to jolt up from her miserable position and fix her hair with a pout.

‘try this last one out, if they’re that bad than I promise I’ll save you from your misery and tutor you myself.’ “deal.”

they meet in the library. jamie’s been a dear and promised hanna another refill of the vanilla bean she’d gratefully placed on the table, as long as she clears this session. clear meaning she doesn’t leave early though hanna is looking at the clock for the minute reason she needs to book it out. jamie is sitting a table away and watching intently and hanna, hanna is sitting rather miserably, chin on the table, eyes on her watch, and fingers playing with the drink that’s currently keeping her alive.

please be late please be late please be late.

‘kim seolhyun?’ she looks up, dreading the sense of déjà vu that’s about to come over her because what. she notices a few things, he’s very tall, very on-time, and very unlike the image she’s been ready to torment her. he’s in a button-up and he’s already sitting across from her as he starts to pull things out his bag. ‘I’m bang minsoo your tutor.’ he’s tall, tall to the point where if she were standing she’d still have to view him from this angle. well she is watching him from a weird angle and he’s still pulling things out his bag. It’s a normal bag too, his clothes, normal too. he’s – normal. aside from exceptionally soft looking hair but who cares about that.

“you’re on time.” ‘I am.’ “you’re dressed normal.” ‘as are most college students.’ it’s then that she realizes he’s all about finished taking out all of his things, now scattered neatly across the table and she’s aware of the things she doesn’t have spread out. ‘now are you ready?’ “for what?”

‘I’ve reviewed your class syllabus and I’m planning on at least getting you prepared for your coming quiz, then we can start with fundamentals and such.’ he’s flipping through papers, books and hanna’s suddenly sitting a lot straighter than before. she also doesn’t take her eyes off how concentrated he seems to be. concentrated but – calm. It’s strange. ‘seolhyun-ssi?’ “huh?” she takes her eyes off Jamie, who’s busy throwing signals from behind his ear. questions probably but hanna can’t quite make them out because her tutor – minsoo is looking dead at her. ‘are you ready to begin?’ he doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that she has no paper as he’s already slid his materials over to her. he’s just waiting. “hanna.” ‘pardon?’ “hanna, I go by hanna.” ‘alright then hanna, lets begin.’ “yeah sure.”

‘that just about does it. review these concepts tonight and your oral exam should go fine. review some right after I leave though.’ “you’re leaving?” hanna’s almost embarrassed at the words, because they come out so easily and she’s still looking at the words he’s underlining when she says it. ‘your session’s up, and - I do have class.’ she’s even more embarrassed to say she’s having a good time because god her father won’t let her live it down. “okay, thank you. next week we’re meeting here right?” ‘ideally it would depend on if you pass tomorrow but yes here is fine.’

she understood concepts that she’d normally drown her teacher out. minsoo was patient and well he wasn’t speaking on overwhelming amount of english so she could follow. It’s probably why she’d been able to follow along, and probably why she didn’t notice the time pass, she does notice minsoo getting up – probably because it’s so abrupt and she’s sorting through her thoughts, but it makes her shift in her seat. even more so when jamie bounds over and fixes her with a stare – one she can’t quite read. hanna shifts even more, a strange shudder taking over as she immediately grabs for her drink.

‘okay so?’ “well – I didn’t throw my drink on him.” ‘I noticed.’

“okay he wasn’t too bad, I still want my drink.” ‘did you mean he wasn’t bad looking?’ “absolutely not, lead me to overpriced coffee!”

and if hanna sticks closer to Jamie during the walk there, neither of them complain.

of course she has to tell her father to stop looking for another tutor. It’s at the end of the next day, after studying thoroughly and doing not so bad on her oral exam the morning after their tutor session. he’s in the study, normally where he doesn’t like being bothered, but there’s her mom, lounging on the chair while he flits back and forth between bank books and the laptop. how they spend so much time together is beyond her. she pops in and eyes are on her.

“hey, just wanted to say I’ll be keeping this tutor.” ‘he’s cute isn’t he?’ is the first thing her mother says and hanna quite literally falls from where she’d been planning to stick her head in and right out. “shameless.” ‘didn’t hear a no.’

‘that’s great dear, it was getting hard to not do a full screening on the next one and scare them away.’ “yeah yeah thanks.” hanna’s composing herself, rubbing at her shoulders to relieve her goosebumps. her mother catches this immediately and looks up from her book, eyes calculating. ‘are you cold hun?’ her father looks up, more concern in his eyes than anything. the drama queen. “yeah, do you guys have the air on?” they share a look – the strange telepathy that they always do. ‘no – but darling you’re in a long-sleeved shirt.’ “I could be getting sick. I’ll take something.”

as it turns out, she’s not getting sick. that was evident after the hoard of medication she’d taken and the lack of actual flu or cold symptoms. couldn’t be allergies as hanna has none, and there’s no bug going around school.

she just feels.

antsy.

she keeps shivering whether she’s in her clothes or not, itching and shaking even under cold water.

the morning after the conversation with her parents she’d bundled up fiercely the next day, making sure she would sweat out whatever cold would hit her. when it seemed like the fabric of her clothes was just making things worse, she opted for shorter sleeves and lighter, softer clothing. something to take away the itch that’s making her body shake.

‘maybe you’re allergic to something.’ Is jamie’s rationing. “my allergies would’ve been shown up.” is hanna’s answer.

she considers her diet, though she’s relatively a healthy person, she makes a log of what she could’ve eaten to cause it. but again, she has no food allergies either, she’s relatively healthy and it doesn’t feel like a food issue. even if her stomach does start to twist and turn now and then, it’s not the sick feeling from eating something bad – and hanna would know she’s had food poisoning.

she gets chills, has goosebumps she can’t really see. Her stomach twists no matter how much ginger tea she drinks and she’s at the point of wanting to jump out her own skin. It’s led to her being quite irritable too. rolling her eyes when her teacher asks her a question she knows hanna doesn’t know the answer to, snapping at someone near her parking space on her way to class.

‘could be your period babe.’ “my period was two weeks ago.”

and it’s not that either. It’s not the emotion that double over before her period, it’s not the stabs in her stomach that start coming early, or the cravings she’ll likely have. It’s none of that and this is the first time hanna’s wished that it was, at least then she would know what to do. because right now she wants to shed her own skin, feels like she’s growing in and out of it at the same time. feels like she’s itching something but never quite scratching it, like she needs something soothing but the burn isn’t painful it’s just – uncomfortable.

“do I need to see a doctor?” it’s a week into this when she mentions it to her parents. a week of her arriving irritable to school, practically clinging to jamie and saying nothing but groaning each time she feels a pull she doesn’t understand. like her skin was rubber and something was trying to call her back, pulling her thin but not ripping just – stretching. hanna was in agony and her mother now sat on the edge of the couch, running her hand through her hair while her father observed her. she’d told them her symptoms but she’s all but realized how crazy she must sound. ‘describe it again seol.’ hanna groans into the pillow but her mother’s touch is – distracting, helps her focus. “feels like I’m being tugged in several directions, everything is subtle but at the same time it’s overwhelming. It’s like if someone pressed needles against you but just the tip so you didn’t feel the pain. It’s terrible.” If anything, she would get bonus points in creative writing for her descriptions. If her teacher could see her now. Hanna wishes no one could see her, wishes she could all but melt into the couch. ‘do you know when it started?’ “I don’t know last week sometime?”

all these questions and all hanna wants to do is bury further away from it all.

‘we’ll get you to a doctor this afternoon, are you still going to class?’ she wants to say no, wants to stay right where she is until later this afternoon, instead she drags herself up and to her room. If she were more attentive, she might’ve noticed the look her parents share as she heads to get ready.

jamie is ready with a chamomile tea, a hint of ginger and a hug for Hanna when she walks out of her class. she makes no comment on how hanna left early and just smothers her in a hug, a hug that hanna can’t be bothered to wiggle out of. she focuses on the fact that it’s jamie and not that her body feels like it wants to be somewhere else but can’t figure itself out. instead they head to the library, jamie sending worried glances each time hanna shakes her shoulders or holds her head.

“please not headaches.” she doesn’t have time to think because as the headache grows there’s a figure before them both. it’s of course her tutor, though it was almost hard to tell because of the mask he’s sporting. ‘sorry, I’m a bit late.’ truthfully hanna hadn’t noticed. she’s more concerned at how he sounds as bad as she feels. ‘ready to start?’ “are you feeling okay?” is the first thing hanna asks, jamie having left her side so they can start. ‘nothing too bad, wore a mask in case it’s contagious but I don’t think so.’ “i’d take anything over whatever is hitting me right now.” she swears she gets a smile at the comment, but they’re launching into problems right away.

for the past week, the discomfort that hanna’s felt has been relentless. it started in small bursts but began to last the entire day, hence why she’d begged her parents to see a doctor today. as minsoo starts to finish reading her homework for the week, she’s suddenly aware that she’s feeling better. much better. his mask is off too. she’s grateful because truthfully, hanna didn’t think she could get through this session with that same pain that’s been plaguing her. she’s also relieved that he seems to be feeling better. she has half a mind to text her parents that all are good but he’s getting up, things packed already and her lips move with an urgency new to her.

“hey, can I get your number, in case I feel under the weather again and actually can’t show up?” minsoo’s giving it though, without question or complaint and hanna’s waving the phone as she waves him off. ‘you look like you’re feeling better.’ “thank god, or he might’ve asked for different pupil.” ‘mmmmm, I doubt that.’

hanna shrugs though, making sure to send a quick message to him.

to: 💥 minsoo [ hanna! ✌️ ] from: 💥 minsoo [ 👌 ]

when she arrives home, her mother is questioning her instantly.

“i just feel better? not sure, but my tutor session went well!” just to bring the mood up because she can see her parents are visibly concerned. ‘but hanna, you were in pretty bad shape.’ “maybe I just needed to flush out a bad bug, I feel fine!”

hanna’s in the same predicament, though it feels worse than before. the symptoms double over within half the time from before and she’s cuddled under her covers trying every possible position to ease the discomfort.

‘hanna I’m really worried.’ jamie’s voice rings on the other end of the line. “don’t worry, I really think it needs to run it’s course.” whatever it is.

whe doesn’t miss tutoring this week, though she can tell from minsoo’s hair, a little shaggy on the edges, that he’s dealing with his own things too. things that seem to disappear during their session, a reason why she makes it a goal to not miss them, no matter how bad she feels. It’s not exactly pain anyway, it’s just discomfort.

body-shaking discomfort.

she continues her routine. suffering for a week but managing to make her tutoring sessions just because she can. and they always make her feel better in that moment, a reason why she thinks it might just be stress.

two more weeks pass and hanna’s sure it’s not just a bad bug. because the intervals are shorter where she feels discomfort. It goes from a few days to one day to a few hours. it gets bad that she’s in her bed staring at her phone.

to: 💥 minsoo [ hey, it’s hanna! I might not make our session tomorrow, I’m really not feeling well. 😷😷😷😷 ] from:💥 minsoo [ I hope I didn’t give you what I caught, it’s not exactly fun ] to: 💥 minsoo [ don’t think what I have is contagious ] from:💥 minsoo [ how so? ]

and hanna hadn’t planned on discussing this, talking past her update but, she indulges.

to: 💥 minsoo [ feels like my insides being stretched ] from: 💥 minsoo [ ouch, in every direction and nowhere at all ] to: 💥 minsoo [ YES ] from: 💥 minsoo [ sorry I might’ve given it to you ] to: 💥 minsoo [ hm, I likely gave it to you ] from: 💥 minsoo [ either way, I hope you feel better ] to: 💥 minsoo [ if you find any remedies tell me!!!!! ] from: 💥 [ sure thing. ]

and for good measure.

to: 💥 minsoo [ goodnight! ]

she feels worse after missing their session. much worse. to the point where she’s pacing around her room, stepping in place, doing anything to try and ease her body and it’s confusion. it’s restless and it’s making hanna’s head spin. when her parents ask she just says she doesn’t know. when she asks the doctors they just say they don’t know.

because yeah that gives her hope.

“seriously I have no idea what it is.” hanna’s panting now, having resorted to running to let off some steam. she’s on the phone with minsoo, who despite his own afflictions has been a good comfort for her during it all. ‘me neither, needless to say, I keep worrying my sister.’ “my parents are surprisingly calm, though I know they’re worried.” they haven’t kept off her case, in a good way though. They check up on her and give her food without her needing to ask, she’s just been unable to feel reprieve from anything really. minsoo had laughed when she told him how her father hovered by the door ready to get her anything. “I’ll have fun trying to explain this sick note to my professors.” not that she minds, maybe she needed the break. running like this, and watching minsoo’s face change as he talks, as she cools down and listens, isn’t too bad.

‘hanna.’ “hm?” ‘you’ve been walking a while where are you?’ “uhm, don’t know. Why?” ‘it looks familiar…’ for a second it looks like he’s leaning into the screen and then there’s a flurry of movement, then laughter. ‘you’re nearing my neighborhood, how’d you manage that?’ “who knows. didn’t realize I was walking that far.” ‘I’ll come down.’ before she can say that he doesn’t have to, or that he’s not feeling well, she sees his figure approaching from the end of the street. funny enough, he looks like he ran. “you didn’t run here did you….” ‘I needed the exercise. I feel better already.’ and though he’s joking, catching his breath hanna’s been feeling immensely better since a little after her run. enough that she can smile fully at him, even laugh at his words.

he walks with her for the rest of her cool down. a cool down that she feels like she doesn’t even need because everything’s settled right now. It could be, and hanna considers it, the calm of the night, maybe she needed a good run. maybe she needed a change in environment, in pace. whatever it is, it’s working. has her joking with minsoo and feeling like herself, feeling that she’s missed their sessions all too much.

‘is that true?’ she doesn’t realize she’s spoken the words until she meets minsoo’s eyes on her. and she’s suddenly very aware of how close they’re walking together. hanna doesn’t move though, instead she just laughs and averts her eyes. “I miss them, they were the highlight of my week.” which isn’t a lie, even if she tries to put sarcasm in her tone. really, english tutoring as the highlight of her week? it was true whether she denied it or not. she suddenly didn’t mind if he knew or not. ‘it’s definitely been the best part of my few weeks.’

they walk a bit more, night closes in a bit more and they lose track of time. to where her father’s messaging her and hanna almost dreads having to go back, having to end the peace. but she’s feeling better so there’s a plus.

“I have to head home before my father sends a search party.” and – as if he knows. as if her eyes reveal everything without knowing, minsoo’s speaking up as she turns. ‘I’ll walk you.’ she doesn’t object. not when he sticks just as close, not when they pass the gates to her compound and he’s at the door, past the door and they’re laughing in the study.

‘you’re feeling better.’ Is what her mother says first. they’re both at the door, her father’s arm wrapped snug around his mother’s waist, his eyes on minsoo. “hey, sorry i’m late. i ran into minsoo? guess we both just needed a run.” ‘both? minsoo I wasn’t aware you weren’t feeling well either.’ ‘I’m fine ma’am, i was worried I’d given whatever I had to hanna but I’m glad that’s not the case.’ ‘i’m glad too. hanna do try to answer your phone more often, your father gets restless.’ “please, he’d be up the roof if it was you.” to which hanna’s father, the joke of her life, quite literally picks her mother up bridal style as he announces his love. hanna notices minsoo’s confusion and realizes she’s never told him, though she’s never in a position to tell anyone. “my parents are a soulmate match. for them they can’t spend too much time apart of they get restless, it’s wild. you’d think my mother was going through menopause.” ‘hanna!’ though her mother’s words have no bite while she’s literally being hugged tight by her husband, even after he’s set her back on her feet. ‘is it painful?’ are minsoo’s first words. unsurprising because most people have tons of questions when they hear about it. minsoo never seemed the curious type though, but hanna leans back and watches as her parents perk up at the opportunity to talk about their love.

‘at first it was unbearable? because we didn’t know what was going on or how to tell the cause. with ours it’s hard to tell but overtime the pull quite literally leads you to them because you’re in agony.’ ‘the pull?’ minsoo looks thoroughly interested and hanna – for whatever, maybe the aftereffects of this nonexistent flu, finds it cute. ‘hard to describe, the body literally cannot stand the distance for too long. after a while it becomes easier to withstand distance, the discomfort is there but not as strong the more time we spend together afterwards, and the more we deal with it. hanna’s father is just a baby. Hanna takes after him I suppose, she’s been moping about this house you’d think she was having period pains.’ “mom!” minsoo, the traitor, finds it his job to laugh and hanna quite literally thinks about knocking him out the couch. Until he smiles her way saying stupid things like: ‘glad you’re feeling better now.’

hanna’s floored because she’s got an urge in that moment. and it makes her want to shove everyone away, and yet, pull one person close.

abort mission.

she’s shooing everyone out, minsoo particularly.

‘he can’t go home by himself this late.’ “HUH?” the one time her father wants to be lenient about a boy.

the one time.

‘it’s fine I can call a taxi.’ ‘nonsense, we have a guest room down here.’

after much preparation hanna’s closing the door after bidding him a good night and a small apology. she sees her parents from atop the stairs and marches past them and their smug grins to her room.

‘he’s what?’ “downstairs in the guest room.” ‘wow, third base already.’ “like you haven’t slept over at sam’s.” ‘touche.’

just then hanna’s phone vibrates and she’s looking at the screen and nearly dropping her phone.

from: 💥 minsoo

“he’s texting me, jamie. jamie minsoo’s texting me why’s he texting me he’s downstairs what’s going on?” ‘well I suppose we won’t know the answer to that unless you read it and text back now would we?’

touche.

from: 💥 minsoo [ thanks for letting me spend the night. forgot to say so earlier. ]

“why’s he thanking me, he should thank my parents.” ‘idiot – does he have your parents on speed dial, no he has your cute ass.’

to: 💥 minsoo [ it’s no problem! I hadn’t realized how late it was, hope you don’t mind. ] to: 💥 minsoo [ hope you’re not secretly a thief either. sorry about my lovey-dovey high school parents ]

From: 💥 minsoo [ don’t mind at all. It was nice of them. and they’re nice too, obviously very in love. i’ve seen soulmate pairs before but they’re – refreshing. ]

‘oho, soulmate talk.’ “I’m gonna hang up.” ‘fine, hang up and talk to your loverboy.’

hanna chokes.

to: 💥 minsoo [ are they? I thought they’d be a bit much. you never seemed like you’d be interested in that. from: 💥 minsoo [ soulmate lore and stuff? you never asked. ] to: 💥 minsoo [ i’m sorry among all the agony and english suffering I forgot to ask about soulmate lore with you. ] from: 💥 minsoo [ what do you think of it then? ]

In that moment, hanna has to take a break because a headache’s coming. She almost groans at the feeling and jamie picks up immediately.

‘I’m going to assume he didn’t say anything bad, you okay?’ “yeah I might turn in, not feeling good again.” ‘okay, call me if you need anything alright?’ “okay bye bye.” sealed with extra loud lip smacks and kiss noises because of course.

from: 💥 minsoo [ you okay? ] to: 💥 minsoo [ yeah, headache. maybe I’ve been up too long. ] from: 💥 minsoo [ not good, you should take a nap ] to: 💥 minsoo [ but! soulmate! lore! ] from: 💥 minsoo [ someone’s excited. ] to: 💥 minsoo [ I can talk all night about it, since I have first hand encounters ] from: 💥 minsoo [ I’ll be up all night, can’t seem to sleep ] to: 💥 minsoo [ I’ll be down in five ]

and for some reason he doesn’t protest. so hanna wraps herself in her blanket and slinks her way downstairs to the guest room, praying to the gods that her parents don’t wake up. or even if they do, they don’t ask.

they talk all night. hanna’s headache that was calling her to bed nowhere to be found. minsoo’s restlessness lulled into alertness and attention he gives her the entire night, both splayed over the living room couch. he tells her about his doubts and beliefs in the soulmate theory, his experiences both good and bad. he tells about couples he’s seen fail and couples he’s seen prosper, talks about how hopeful hanna’s parents can make people. hanna talks about her fears with it, her reservations and also her fascination when she looks at her parents. they talk and they talk until they can’t fight sleep and it’s the easiest sleep they’ve had in weeks, though neither admit. they just fall into one another.

that’s how hanna wakes up. with her head between her arms, placed firmly on the edge of the couch and minsoo’s chest directly in front of her. she doesn’t move though, relishing in the best sleep she’s had in weeks. in fact, it’s the sound coming from the kitchen that wakes her. it’s a glimpse of her father peeking over the couch and her making eye contact that has her shrieking and bounding for her room.

when she’s showered and changed and sent jamie a promise text to tell her everything, she joins her family. minsoo is up and looking so well-rested that he hasn’t quite fixed his hair yet. it’s cute ad insufferable, hanna wants to crawl back upstairs. but she quite literally feels her headache disappear when he waves a good morning and she waves back, turning to glare at her parents before they can say anything. of course, her mother isn’t phased.

‘you both slept well.’ “good morning and good bye mother.” ‘I made breakfast.’ “to go, I have class and minsoo has to get home.” ‘I’ll take---’ “I’ll drive him thank you father.”

hanna’s grabbing the keys, the kimbap and literally rushing minsoo out the door before her parents can trap them any further.

easily, thankfully, they fall into conversation as if they hadn’t fallen asleep earlier. hanna offers to drive minsoo to campus and the top-down on her car makes his hair more of a statement when they arrive. so much so that she’s laughing and he’s puzzled.

‘you’ve been laughing for fifteen minutes, earlier I was worried we’d crash.’ “yikes, your faith in my driving skills. here hold on.” without prompt, without warning really, hanna’s leaning over to fix the strands of hair that have gone wild. not like she couldn’t just tell him because now he’s this close and hanna thinks she can’t breathe but this is the easiest it’s been to breathe in weeks. and that’s scary. terrifying.

‘hanna!’ thank god for jamie. because hanna, jumps back and is hopping out the car to greet her friend. thank god for jamie but oh god jamie, jamie doesn’t spare one single glance moving from hanna to minsoo and her eyebrows doing that thing that makes hanna want to run. ‘thanks for the ride.’ Is all minsoo says, a smile on his face after he bows to jamie and waves himself off. hanna’s got about two seconds of leeway and she’s considering running, instead she calls after minsoo, practically bounds after him. “can I walk with you, I barely know your classes.” she half expects him to deny her, instead he’s nodding. and hanna for now will say it’s just to avoid getting grilled.

except that it becomes a routine. and hanna hadn’t planned that. hadn’t planned on getting used to the feeling of walking with minsoo to classes and him eventually walking her to hers. after one morning where he doesn’t and she does so bad on her english exam he’s waiting outside with vanilla bean and she’s forgetting all about it.

seriously what kind of warlock is he, hanna’s been trying to figure it out. she’s so caught off-guard that jamie’s managed to pull her out her daze with a fry to her face.

‘maybe you just like him.’ “pardon.” ‘you literally suffer when he’s not around, you like him.’ hanna takes a careful sip of her drink, letting jamie mull over her words. when she doesn’t, hanna swallow. “nah.”

jamie groans.

she does enjoy the company he brings though. the feeling of him walking beside her to class, to tutoring, even home that’s become more routine. it’s always the leaving part that hanna can’t quite get over, always makes her rub her hands together as if she’s collecting static, settling herself. she thinks nothing of it though, glad to be free of whatever plagued her in the earlier months.

except that the bug comes back.

at the worst of times in her opinion. it’s midterm season and while she’s enjoyed the help he’s given her, thoroughly enjoyed his presence around her, how they’ve started grabbing coffee together and even eating out when tutoring lasts too late, they need to study. hanna doesn’t want to disrupt minsoo’s study schedule and respects the request to take their tutoring out of midterm week. that also means, he’s busy studying that he’s not around to walk her to classes, and it’s not like hanna’s been dependent on it, that’ silly. but she feels it, feels it more apparent than she thought she would from the week before midterms start, into the beginning of the exam week.

‘maybe it’s because you guys just spend so much time together.’ Is jamie’s answer. Though hanna can tell jamie’s beginning to worry, about a lot really. hanna doesn’t get attachments like this, and the fact that it’s becoming so apparent and so troublesome that it’s affecting her environment. jamie’s worried but doesn’t want her worry to affect hanna. hanna appreciate it, so she wants to get to the bottom of this.

‘you could just miss him.’ is the solution her mother offers, still perched in the couch in the study, a book on soulmates in her hand. it’s plausible, even if it’s only been a few days since she’d seen him, it’s very plausible. hanna takes a look at the book in her mother’s hand and ignores how her stomach churns at the title. ignores what that might mean for her.

because to hanna that was dependence bordering on insanity. for her, for minsoo, whom she barely knew. sure she knew the little things, like his favorite color nowadays, how simple he liked his wardrobe, how tall she’d have to stand on the top of her toes to reach his height. how he likes his coffee and which classes he dreads and why, his little ticks when he doesn’t understand things and just how endearing it is that he can not understand things. the look on his face or the color on his face when she points out that she thinks it is endearing. she knows these little things, has saved them for the moments when she’s stuck in a long day and she knows they can still walk home together.

she knows that but it’s not enough to need. it shouldn’t be.

but hanna counts all that she knows, all she’s beginning to adore and she’s getting frightened.

scared as she is, she doesn’t get to hold it in for long. it’s the middle of midterm week and she’s sure she’s going to fail her english midterm tomorrow because she can’t fucking focus. for the life of her, her body itches and the covers aren’t helping but she’s wrapped in them anyway. she doesn’t want to call anyone, ask anyone, she just wants the feeling gone.

as if on cue her phone vibrates.

from: 💥minsoo [ you doing okay? ] to: 💥minsoo [ guess ] from: 💥minsoo [ exam stress? ] to: 💥minsoo [ nope, worse ] from: 💥minsoo [ penny for your thoughts ] to: 💥minsoo [ I’ll give you a million if you come by ] from: 💥minsoo [ on my way ]

and hanna doesn’t wait. she’s downstairs and meeting him outside the door.

they walk and they walk and they walk until they come across a playground. hanna on the swings and minsoo sitting quite literally in front of where she stops.

‘any reason you chose swings?’ “any reason you’re sitting there?”

touche.

she steps back, as far back as she can before the swing is pressed into her back and minsoo is a few feet in front of her. and she stays there, stays there and watches him. he sits absently, fingers idle in the woodchips, night just moving around him. around his shoulders, around his hands, his silhouette.

hanna looks for strings first.

she feels the first tug but sees none. it’s not like the swing is pressing into her back, it’s the opposite. something pulling. with the tug comes the itch, the shudder. and it’s not the cold. she sees no strings though, nothing buzzing around minsoo. but she sees him shudder, sees him look up instantly in her direction.

when their eyes meet hanna allows herself to sit and walk forward until her feet kick lightly against his own.

she moves back again, as far back as the swing will let her. and waits. without a word, waiting for something in the moonlight around him to shift. like how tides just follow the pull of the moon, she waits for it. then her skin starts to crawl and his eyes haven’t left hers, so she sits and moves forward again. this time his hand is on the swing when her feet kick at his. stopping, holding.

‘you’re a glutton for punishment.’ “I was testing my theory.” ‘which is?’

hanna bites at her lip. even the sting she feels couldn’t quite compare to the feeling, the calm that settles over her each time she swings back over to him.

“you know how – you can only go so far on the swing, until you’re yanked back.” ‘i’m aware.’ “that’s what it’s like with you. like pulling tight of a band until it’s released back.” ‘and it’s like it was never pulled in the first place.’ “right-!! you know?” ‘well since it’s a soulmate thing, the other person feels the same you know.’

hanna’s suddenly very shy and very grateful for how dark it is.

“so do you – how do you feel?” ‘how do you feel?’ “scared as hell. excited. better than I felt earlier.” ‘I’m about the same. not as scared, curious. willing.’

the last one has hanna’s head snapping up, minsoo who’d been looking elsewhere, maybe for a pull of the tides too, fixes his eyes back on her.

“willing to – what?” ‘well, I’m here.’ “you’re helpful.”

but hanna’s smiling as she says it. smiling and playing with the chips below her feet.

‘hey, fate picked me.’ “well - i’d pick you.”

oh boy is she glad it’s dark as hell outside.

“how long did you know, I can’t believe you two knew.” ‘i can’t believe you took so long to figure it out.’

hanna is, staring quite scandalized at her parents, while minsoo sits not bothered in the slightest, at the kitchen counter. they’d talked, but upon deciding that hanna does need to sleep to attempt to pass her exam, that she head home. minsoo of course had walked her, her parents had of course been up when they arrived.

‘admittedly your mother was in denial so you take after her.’ if it weren’t for the skillet she was focusing on, hanna was sure her father would have a spoon shaped mark on his face. “i wasn’t in denial.” minsoo makes something that sounds like a snort and hanna is betrayed. ‘jamie even asked me outside your class if i’d give you time to figure it out.’ “wow is this why sam’s friends were ready to kill each other, how long have you known.” ‘since the first night your parents let me stay here.’ “i am surrounded by traitors.” ‘i’m wondering if he should still tutor you.’

if she weren’t starving, hanna would’ve gone right to bed. but minsoo took the blanket and is offering a more comfortable spot curled up beside him. and pancakes. comfort and pancakes and minsoo seem like the better option. and when hanna’s close to falling asleep, head on his shoulder and stomach full, she thinks it might be the forever option.

fast forward to present day.

“a vacation with his sister, why.” ‘yes, the nerve of your boyfriend, spending time with his family.’ “he said he’d be back today.” ‘yes, he said sometime this afternoon, it’s one.’

hanna is close to drowning herself in this damn vanilla bean when she hears a chime, and already feels the ache start to subside. already feels a smile curling, though she’s a bit peeved.

“i’m the glutton for punishment.” ‘i missed you too.’ and she’s pouting, even when he hands her a souvenir, up until the kiss pressed to the top of her head. up until all of the ache disappears and she’s engulfed in arms for the remainder of their time at the cafe. engulfed in the very feeling that makes her feel like, the wait doesn’t hold a candle to the reward. and it never will.

#{ w: hanna. }#rosaeau #( if my computers da RES #au.

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