#we just went to the natural history museum and then went to a bookstore

[corvidaedream]

some of the best birthdays I've ever had are just me hanging out w my mom

this was no exception

[fuzzballsheltiepants]

Picture Kevin, three years old, running after his mother on awkward too-short legs in the park across the street from their home.  She laughs and grabs his little hands, swooping him off the ground in a great arc and he squeals and kicks his feet and shouts, “Again, mummy, again!”  He seems to glow in the sun, and Kayleigh had never thought that love could be like this, something so big and all-encompassing it feels like pain.

Picture Kevin, four years old, already learning to read; at first Kayleigh thought it was memorization of his favorite books, but one day at the library he finds a book with a frog and a toad and he sounds out words on his own.  Her heart swells with pride, and she kisses him on the top of his head and brushes back his silky hair and the frog and toad book finds its way home with them.

Picture Kevin, five years old, coming home from school bubbling with excitement day after day.  “I made a new friend, mummy.”  “Did you know that a long time ago Ireland was covered with ice, mummy?  And there were furry el-fants and huge deers and all kinda stuff that’s gone stinked now.”  “We drew today and I drew you and me and we were playing exy and the teacher said it was really really good.”  “I know maths now, mummy.  So much maths.”  After school he pulls out his legos and starts adding to the giant structure that has taken over one corner of their living room.  “It’s a castle, mummy.  It’s s’posed to be big.”

Picture Kevin, six years old, leading Kayleigh through the streets from shop to shop.  Gravely saying hello to the shop owners, who smothered their smiles and exchanged looks with Kayleigh over Kevin’s head.  He talked about fish to the grocer and dinosaurs to the bookstore cashier and space to the pharmacist and then ran into the green to kick a ball around with some kids from school.  “I like football okay, mum, but it’s not as much fun as exy.”  They put on music in the car and he sings along, not caring if he’s in tune, just singing for the pure joy of it.  Kayleigh wonders when she started becoming afraid of people who couldn’t even hear her; how many years had it been since she hadn’t cared what anybody thought?  She turns up the music and sings along too.

Picture Kevin, seven years old, in tiny exy gear, playing in little league.  He throws himself into it with abandon; sometimes the ball ends up in the little stands set up around the pint-sized court; sometimes he releases too late and it just bounces sadly off the ground; once it ricocheted off the low wall and whacked him in the shoulder.  He rubbed at it, glaring at the offending ball, but two seconds later he was laughing and leaping back into the fray.  He knocked a defender over, then stopped to extend a hand to help him up, and they hugged it out while someone else scored.  Afterwards the defender went out with them for pizza and they talked about space robots for a solid hour until Kayleigh was ready to scream.

Picture Kevin, eight years old.  Somber.  Lost.  Riko, promising to be his friend, and Kevin swallowing against the lump in his throat and nodding.  Riko, a dark-eyed island in the sea of grief.

Picture Kevin, nine years old.  Riko made good on his promise; he’s Kevin’s friend, his only friend; his brother, in all but genetics.  Kevin trains, and he doesn’t make mistaken throws anymore.  His footwork is sure.  Tetsuji praises him, and he basks in the words, and vows to train harder.

Picture Kevin, ten years old.  Riko drawing a 2 on his cheek; Kevin returning the favor, the 1 he draws precise, painstaking.  “We are the best,” Riko murmurs, “you and me,” and Kevin smiles.  One of the college students plays some music in the locker room, and Kevin remembers this song—the melody, the words.  The song plays through his head, and he longs to sing along, but Riko ignores it and Kevin closes his mouth on the lyrics.  He can hear something, in the Master’s locked office behind him; a muffled thud, and a groan, and somehow it’s louder than the music.

Picture Kevin, eleven years old.  They go on a trip to a natural history museum, something their tutor recommended.  Riko wanders around, haughty and bored; Kevin trails after.  The placards at the exhibits call to him; so many facts, laid out before him; a real mammoth skeleton towers above, and Kevin wants nothing more than to gape at the enormous curving tusks, but Riko tugs him away.  “This stuff doesn’t matter,” Riko says.  “We’re going to make Court.  We’re going to build Court our way, and it will be perfect.”  Kevin wonders if perfect is worth it, but then swallows down the traitorous thought.

Picture Kevin, twelve years old.  Already there are murmurs.  Of his greatness, of Riko’s.  Together, they are unstoppable.  The Master tells them they would be the best, and they do not wish to prove him wrong.  Always, Riko is with him; except once in a rare while when the Master takes him away.   At first, he would come back pale and shaken, and Kevin would hear him sniffling in his bed; but that stopped a long time ago.  Riko never talks about what they do.  “Moriyama stuff,” he said, stiff and proud.  They meet a new player; a possible recruit, for Riko’s Perfect Court.  Nathaniel’s tiny and fast and he laughs as he intercepts a ball from Kevin that he never should’ve even had a chance at, and for a few moments Kevin thinks he can remember what it was like when his mother would cheer him on.  Then the three of them are brought up, up to the tower where they meet Nathaniel’s father who looks just like him, and Kevin learns what “Moriyama stuff” really is.

Picture Kevin, thirteen years old.  Someone asks him in an interview, after his team wins the Little League championships again, about how it feels to follow in his mother’s footsteps.  He doesn’t even really know what he says; he’d been coached on this so many times it was all automatic.  But that night all he can think about is that he doesn’t remember his mother’s voice anymore.  He doesn’t cry; he can’t cry, there’s nowhere that he’s safe.  For he’s not really a Day anymore, except in name, and he knows too well what it means to be a Moriyama.

Picture Kevin, fourteen years old.  A new recruit arrives, and this one won’t run in the night like Nathaniel did.  He doesn’t speak a lot of English, and he’s taller than Kevin, and he doesn’t know why he’s there.  One day he checks Riko into the boards, and that’s when Jean first starts to learn his place.  Riko and Kevin—they had already learned.  That night Kevin holds Jean in his arms as tears leak from his eyes unbidden, and they don’t talk, lest they be found. 

Picture Kevin, fifteen years old.  They play against the college students now.  Faster.  Harder.  More.  At night, he soothes his aching muscles by delving over his books.  He was smart, the tutor told him; he could study anything he wanted.  But it was history that drew him, history that was endlessly fascinating.  Who knew that facts were such subjective things?  So many layers to unpeel, to distract.  

Picture Kevin, sixteen years old.  Pro teams already are banging down the doors for contracts for the pair of them, but they will have to wait.  The professional leagues have less status than the NCAAs; the Master had already decided that they would use the pros as summer training, nothing more.  He pored over college tape instead of worrying about it.  He knew all the coaches in NCAA exy, all their styles.  Except Coach Wymack, who was new.  Coach Wymack, a bleeding heart with a hopeless future at a mid-sized university.  Oh, the university would humor him, for hadn’t Kevin’s mother taught him?  But they would lose patience, once they realized he could not win.  Kevin would pity him, but pity was for the weak.  He thought he remembered reaching a hand out to a fallen player, but he must have made that up.  He would never be afforded the luxury of kindness.

Picture Kevin, seventeen years old.  A letter, creased and yellowed in his hand.  Jean, wide-eyed beside him as he studied the writing in a strong and graceful hand.  “Will you tell him?” Jean asks, little more than a whisper lest the Master come in and see what Kevin found, hidden in a history book that had no doubt remained unopened for a decade.  Kevin refolded it, slowly, carefully.  “There’s nothing to tell.”  And if Jean noticed him tucking the letter into his jacket pocket, he didn’t say a thing.  That night, he charmed one of the college students to pass over a bottle of vodka, and he relished the burn down his throat, the way it made him forget.

Picture Kevin, eighteen years old.  Newly annointed to Court, Riko by his side.  He raises his chin as the cameras click all around him, the smile on his lips foreign and familiar.  He knows his press smile, his press laugh, his press voice.  He doesn’t remember what his real one is anymore.  He looks at Riko, laughing easily next to him, and he thinks there was a time without that glint in his brother’s eyes, without that cruel note to his voice, but then he thinks maybe he was fooling himself all along.  

Picture Kevin, nineteen years old.  Watching Riko, sprinting up the court, waiting for the pass.  Kevin has a clear shot; a guaranteed goal; but he pivots and throws to Riko instead.  Two seconds later the goal lights up red, and Riko is celebrating.  Kevin swallows down the bile in his throat and joins in the cheer.  Thea looks at him from across the court and shakes her head, but she never says a thing.  She’s never felt the sharp edge of Riko’s cruelty, but rumors travel fast underground.  She may not know, but she has held onto Kevin in the dark and helped him find relief from the pain.

Picture Kevin, twenty years old.  His legs are bruised in stripes from the Master’s cane, from Riko’s racquet; he’s slumped on the hotel room floor.  Nothing feels real, anymore; it hasn’t for a long time.  He cradles his hand against his chest, but he doesn’t see the red; just the green green fields and cobbled streets.  He doesn’t hear his own shallow breaths, whistling through his teeth; just his mother’s voice, that he thought he had forgotten, singing off key.  Softly at first, then louder.  Jean pulls him to feet he can barely feel, and he presses his forehead to Kevin’s, and he whispers in the accent he never surrendered, “Go, and be safe.”  And Kevin goes, but he knows not what safety is.

Picture Kevin, twenty one years old.  He feels scraped raw; has, since the day Jean whispered in his ear; like his hand has healed, but he was dragged across cement every day without end.  Only Andrew keeps him here, keeps him from bleeding out upon the ground.  He’s not certain if his facade is intact, but he reaches deep inside himself and finds it.  Neil’s fighting him, and somehow that helps; if he focuses on Neil’s idiotic stubborn streak he can forget that the last time he was here he had Riko by his side.  He walks out onto the stage to a round of applause, and Andrew is staring up at him with those eyes and he can breathe a little easier.  But then—he’s there.  Riko is there, and his cruelty has been whetted like a blade.  Kevin has not forgotten its sharpness.  But Neil parries every blow of Riko’s, and he’s stupid and he’s brave and Kevin wonders how on earth he got this way and he wonders if—if maybe he should try to learn.

Picture Kevin, twenty two years old.  The crowd is screaming; the stands are rumbling with the thunder of thousands of feet.  Neil is to one side of him; Andrew to the other.  They are becoming what he had once seen; the sculpture inside the marble, slowly being chiseled out.  The rest of the Foxes range behind him, and his father stands tall at the back.  Kevin takes a deep breath, drops the butt of his racquet to the ground, shifting it to his left hand.  The stadium quakes, and it should.  He takes a step onto the polished wood floor of the court he knew better than any in the world, and nothing will ever be the same.

[omniswords]

Maybe 19 with Felinette?

19. One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.

leave me a pairing and a number and i’ll write you a kiss! [CLOSED FOR NOW]

read more of the Fake Not-Dating AU here! this is a long one, but it explains more of how Félix and Marinette’s relationship was established… i hope orz

If there is one thing Félix has learned about Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng in the last year, it’s that she is horrible, abysmally horrible, at it.

It was easy to excuse away the first few times: they were getting to know each other better in a different setting, the internet or the messaging app could be unreliable sometimes, they were both plenty busy with their own affairs. But as the weeks—and then months—dragged on, he noticed the checkmark and the SEEN notification underneath his messages far more than the ellipsis that should have showed up just underneath it.

Perhaps that second date had been much worse for her than it had been for him, which was… awkward, at best. So perhaps she was trying to let him down easy, but was uncomfortable with being direct about it—no, that didn’t make sense. If the way she’d treated him when they snuck out on New Year’s Eve was any indication, she would certainly have no problem telling him outright that she wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

It’s not as though he’s desperate for her attention. Certainly not. He’d hardly consider himself desperate about anything; that would be too unbecoming. But it would have been nice to know, right out the gate, whether whatever it is they’re cultivating—whatever it is he’s trying to cultivate—is going to go somewhere or not. It’s not his job to ask. It’s hers to tell.

It’s been hours since his last message to her. Little more than a Hello and a Hope you’re faring well and perhaps a slightly spiteful I’m fine, by the way. He’s been checking their message history a few times, just on a whim—because he’s not desperate, just curious—and he’s about to give up hope and put his phone away for the night when his mother knocks on his door. She actually waits, thank God, and by the time she opens the door she’d never know that he was hung up over something so silly as a message from a girl. Or lack thereof.

Or perhaps she would. He’s half-scared of what mothers know.

“I was thinking,” she says once she’s closed the door and taken a seat at the foot of his bed, smoothing out his covers for want of something to do. “Since you’re on school holiday next week, what do you say we make a trip of it? Paris, Sunday to Saturday.”

To his credit, Félix tries so, so hard for her not to see the way he wrinkles his nose. “That depends…” he starts carefully. “Would we be staying with Uncle Gabriel?”

“Heavens, no!” His mother laughs behind a hand, but he hears her own spite in it, too. How she can only stand to be among the Agrestes as long as she has to. For her sister’s sake. “This is for us, Félix. I’ve reserved two rooms for us at the Grand Paris. Only the best for you, and for your own privacy, of course.”

Somehow, his cousin’s place just became more appetizing. And besides, what does she expect him to go around doing in Paris, anyway? “Mr. Bourgeois’s hotel?”

“I thought you and Chloé got along when you were children.”

“I didn’t like her, mother. I tolerated her.” Toleration is a skill, of course. That, and leverage.

“Well.” His mother gets to her feet again, claps her hands together. “Why don’t you start getting your things together and packing. I’ll set on train tickets for us. Nine o’clock, bright and early.” She kisses his forehead on her way out—even now, years later, it softens him at the edges—and he turns to his phone, face-down and unassuming next to his open textbook. He hesitates a moment, then opens the messenger app yet again, because, well, it wouldn’t hurt to check one more time.

Still nothing.

And yet here he is, stewing in his own bitterness, with hope after hope stacked against him,  and holding onto the one thing inside him that says, maybe things will turn around.

Félix feels himself cave in, and types out one more message—hits the backspace on if it means anything to you.

To: Marinette Dupain-ChengI’ll be in Paris in two days. For a week. Whether or not you’d like to see me is up to you.

There. Now all he has to do is wait. As though he hasn’t been doing it all these months already.

Except in seconds, the checkmark notification appears. And almost immediately after that, there’s the ellipsis.

His chest goes tight. He holds his breath. Damns himself for it all, too.

From: Marinette Dupain-Chengreally?? when?we should do something when you get herei know it’s supposed to be valentine’s tomorrow but, we could still… hang out?

Félix sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose, and as he’s replying to her and pulling his suitcase out of the closet, he wishes he weren’t such a sucker for her.

———

He doesn’t understand it. All Sunday morning Marinette’s been messaging him, like a puppy waiting for its master at the door. What is she getting at? Why the sudden flip in her attitude? The fact that he doesn’t know is driving him half-insane, all through the train ride, and even as he’s unpacking in his room. (That is one thing he’ll credit the Bourgeois family with: they know how to set up a comfortable space.) He decides, in the end, that she’s the desperate one—even if he did agree to meet her early in the evening—and pushes all thought of her to the back of his mind when he asks his mother where she’d like to go for lunch.

Félix will admit that Paris is lovely during the day, and even lovelier without the obligations of an extended family or other people who talk with their wallets instead of their mouths. He and his mother don’t have to rely on itineraries—they’ve been here enough times, especially before his aunt, as they say, disappeared. It’s simply pleasant to walk the streets with her, to pop into the shops she’d like to browse and study the foreign-language books. To take tea with her in the afternoon while they watch the city from her window and, admittedly uncomfortably, to confess that he has plans to meet someone soon.

Of course it piques her interest. Why wouldn’t it? “Oh? Who?” she asks. “Adrien?”

“No, no. An… acquaintance, from that New Year’s party we went to last year. Do you remember it?” It’s not entirely a lie, but these little things are practically second nature to him at this point. Thank God she doesn’t ask any questions after that, simply reminds him to hold onto his room’s key card and to be safe, and it’s as he’s freshening up in his bathroom, one last time, that his stomach… flutters. Stupidly.

He’s certainly not nervous. Why should he be? If anything, he should be bitter. Is bitter.

Mostly.

By the time he arrives at the Galerie Vivienne, which is only a ten-minute drive away, Marinette’s already waiting for him; that’s the first thing that surprises him. The second is that she’s dressed up—well, more so than she was the last time they met. Her fit-and-flare dress is wine-red and sits off the shoulders, and she’s even got a small heart-shaped purse to match, and a small box in her hands. Her hair is down, too; he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her wear it that way before.

He doesn’t think he’s ever stared at her like this, either. Or at anyone.

Still, she seems awkward when he approaches her, doesn’t even offer her hand for him to kiss. “What’re you all dressed up for?” she says by way of greeting, and for some reason it stings.

Félix looks down at himself. Trousers, button-down, waistcoat; the only thing that really sparkles about him is his wristwatch. “This is how I always dress,” he says flatly, “but I should ask the same of you.”

“Because… I wanted to? Sheesh…” Marinette scuffs the heel of her ballet flat against the sidewalk, looking hurt; the way the words caught in her throat isn’t lost on him. “Come on… I know a place.”

He’s never been inside the Galerie, but it almost feels like a combination of a museum and a shopping center. He walks stiffly as he follows Marinette’s lead, noticing the things around him without really looking at them or taking them in. Eventually she takes him to a small bistro called the Petit Valentin, which seems a bit on the nose even for the fifteenth of February—except when he says as much, she scowls and pushes a menu toward him. He sighs, tries not to roll his eyes. He’s here to keep civil, he reminds himself, and if he didn’t really want to come, then he wouldn’t have at all.

They eat in relative quiet, talking softly to catch up. Marinette talks far more than he does, which he doesn’t terribly mind; it’s simply that he’s counting every opportunity she had to tell him these things in chunks, instead of unloading it all on him at once. If she’s offput by his hums and occasional nods and the way he so pointedly stares at his food, she doesn’t make it very obvious—only awkwardly sits back in her chair and looks around as if the conversation might have hidden from her in the corners. Honestly, he didn’t think the time they spent together could ever get any worse, and apparently, he thought too soon.

It isn’t until afterwards, when they’ve each paid for their half and passed by bookstores and postcard stands on their way to the streets, that Marinette stops him with a hand on his wrist. He tenses, looks to her out of the corner of his eye, and waits.

“I brought this for you, you know,” she says, holding out the box to him. She’s been safeguarding it all evening, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little curious as to what was inside. “Handmade and everything.”

Gingerly, he takes the box from her, undoes the ribbon wrapped around it and peeks inside to find several small chocolates, laid out on wax paper. He says nothing in response—only closes his eyes and presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth and shuts the box again.

“What?” Marinette says. “What is it?”

“I don’t like chocolate.” He spits the words out, tries so hard not to crumple the box and to keep his voice even, because the last thing the second arrondissement needs is a scene. “You would have known that,” he adds, turning on his heel, “if you’d asked.”

Any other girl—any other person, really—would have let him walk away. But Marinette doesn’t. He should have known she wouldn’t. “That’s what this is about?” she says, tailing after him, her flats clicking harshly against the sidewalk. “Are you serious?”

“Incredibly serious.” He keeps pace just fine, weaving through people in long strides and not bothering to look back; he knows she’ll keep up. “Because, Miss Dupain-Cheng, somehow you’ve managed to perfect the art of contacting so little that someone should lose all hope in you, and yet so much that he should still hold onto some of it. You’d best learn to go one way or the other.”

“Félix—Félix, stop! Stop walking, Jesus—”

He does, still with his back to her, still holding onto that damn box, and she stumbles into him, panting and scuffing her heels. She catches her breath soon enough, and the first thing she says, in that voice he wishes he hadn’t come to adore, is, “Would you at least look at me?”

He does, begrudgingly, at the entrance to a nearby park. She’s got her arms folded, when he turns, her face flushed and flyaway hairs rebelling against her look. And the first thing he thinks—fool that he is—is that one year later, she still looks gorgeous in streetlight, and he still wants to thumb the wrinkle from her brow. “Very well,” he says. “What do you want?”

“I want to explain—”

“You’ve explained plenty.” He raises an eyebrow, counting the reasons—the excuses—on his fingers. “You’ve been studying for the baccalauréat and assembling your portfolio, as though I haven’t had A-Levels to worry about. You’ve been absolutely inundated in clothing commissions and helping your family’s business—because for some reason you assume that I fail to understand what that feels like. You’ve got friends. You’ve got a life. Had you never considered that there was someone,” he says through the way his jaw clenches, “who wanted to be a part of it beyond more than your own sense of convenience?”

The way Marinette bristles is almost palpable, makes half of him want to take back what he said. But if he didn’t, then what? He’d stew for the rest of the night? The rest of the week? “I…” She grips the chain strap of her purse. “I didn’t know if I wanted you to be part of it yet.”

Félix narrows his eyes. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Marinette squints right back. Even hurt, she holds her own; it’s admirable, really. “Félix,” she says slowly. “You couldn’t seriously expect me to fall at your feet in an instant and just not care that you’re my old crush’s cousin.”

He gawks. “That’s what this is about?”

“Of course that’s—” She sighs, exasperated, and drops her face into her hand. “You think I respect you so little that I’d just bounce to you and risk making you think you were sloppy seconds? Or worse, that I was just using you to get to him? I…” There’s a tremble in her voice, and now she’s the one who can’t bear to look at him. She probably can’t look at all, the way she’s wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I was waiting for the right time to figure out… to tell you that I liked you. I wasn’t gonna do it over text. Or in public like this. And I wasn’t… wasn’t gonna do it if you still had any reason to doubt me…”

Félix’s heart cracks. He doesn’t touch her. Doesn’t feel worthy of it. Instead, he says, like a complete idiot, “I should assume, then… that you used past tense for a reason.”

“It’s not past tense! Félix, I…” She balls her hands into fists, breathes out at the same time she releases them. “I think I should go home.”

He didn’t think, before now, that hearing Marinette Dupain-Cheng actually talk to him would kill him so much.

———

Félix turns in early—as soon as he gets home, in fact—and only chances one message to Marinette before he puts his phone away: Please forgive me. Good night. She responds within minutes—Good night, Félix.—and the perfect punctuation makes him wonder if he would have been better off with nothing but that damned checkmark.

He sleeps so fitfully that by morning he has the sense that he didn’t sleep at all, and the first thing he thinks upon half-waking is that Marinette Dupain-Cheng liked him. Likes him. Tried to give him no reason to doubt her, and he pushed himself into it anyway. Tried to give him the best circumstances possible, and he manipulated them the way he does with just about everything.

When his mother asks, over breakfast, how his “acquaintance” is doing, he says, “Fine,” in that hollow way that begs no more elaboration. Then he pushes the little box, tied up rather messily now, across the table. “I got these,” he murmurs. “Would you like them?”

It’s worth the way she coos gratefully, hugs him sideways, and kisses the top of his head.

It only takes a half hour or so of brooding at the foot of his bed, phone in hand with not even so much as a good morning, for him to make a decision he vaguely hopes is the right one. With only the brisk announcement that he’s going to pick something up and will be back soon, he walks with pinpoint purpose out of the Grand Paris Hotel, already punching the address to the Tom & Sabine Bakery/Patisserie into a rideshare app.

He bounces his leg in a backseat for all of twenty minutes, thanks the driver with a nod and a tip—hesitates—then pushes the door open, cursing the bell above it for announcing his entrance. Instantly, he feels like a deer in headlights, unsteady on his legs as the proprietors—no, Marinette’s parents, damn it—meet his eyes.

“Good morning,” he says with an uncomfortable cough behind his fist. “Might Miss Dupain-Cheng be around?”

Her parents look at each other, apparently just as uncertain as he is, and then back to him. “She’s right upstairs,” her mother speaks up, squinting at him like she’s seen him somewhere before but can’t quite place him. “There’s a side door just outside that will let you in. Are you a friend of hers?”

“Something like that.” He gives a short bow in thanks, doesn’t bother to give them any more chances to find the resemblances between him and Adrien, and with every muscle still stiff, he climbs the stairs up two at a time to their apartment. He adjusts his tie just before knocking, and his chest goes tight upon actually doing it, as though this may never have been the right choice after all.

The door opens before he can turn tail, and there is Marinette, swimming in an oversized sweater and some leggings, cocking her head at him as she clings to the doorknob and looks him up and down. He doesn’t want to fathom why her eyes are red-rimmed. “Why are you here?” she asks, slow with her words.

He thinks he can hear the invitation in them—the gratitude, the second chance—but he keeps his distance all the same. “I have something of yours,” he replies, flexing his hand in his pocket. “I wanted to give it to you before I lost the chance to. If you’ll take it.”

“Félix…” She sighs. “I really don’t want the chocolates back—”

“I’m not talking about the chocolates,” he says, and waits for the spark in her eyes that tells him the pieces have clicked together. He looks down at himself, his gaze lingering on his chest as his fingers brush his heart, and then back up to her. “If you’ll take it, it’s yours. If you won’t, well.” He clears his throat. “I’ll be on my way.”

“I…” Marinette hesitates, longer than he was expecting and yet somehow just the right amount, but he catches how she opens the door just a bit wider. “I meant what I said. Yesterday. And I haven’t told anyone else… anything. It’d be… weird, if Adrien found out. If any of our friends found out—”

“And whose business is it if you take it?” Félix asks, all breath and his pocket bunched in his fist. “Whose business is it, Miss Dupain-Cheng, if I let you?”

She searches his face, and he lets her. Her hand’s still on the doorknob. His hide away. “Fine,” she says, little more than a breath of her own. “Give it here.”

He steps past the doorway then, and gives her no more reason to hold onto it as he bends and gathers her up into a kiss. It feels clumsy, and his hands seize up with the urge to feel out everywhere they can—her hair, her face, up and down her back. But he braces himself for her to push him back… and she doesn’t. Instead, she wraps her arms around his neck, and lifts up on her toes to press into him, and moves one of his hands to her chest as if to say, Take mine, too.

He draws his hand back like he’s been burnt—he’s never touched a girl so… intimately… before—and Marinette breaks the kiss instantly. “Sorry,” she stammers, her face bright red. “Look, are you sure you want to—”

Félix doesn’t give her the chance to finish her question; he only kisses her again, nudges her back into her living room so he can try and kick the door shut. It isn’t until then that he realizes just how he missed her tugging on his coat and taking her own lead. And it isn’t until he seizes the opportunity to clumsily slide his tongue past her lips, the way he’s heard his classmates brag about, he understands just one more thing.

All of him is catching fire, and he wants, he wants, Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng to make that noise again.

[boredout305]

Kat Talley Jones (Urinals/100 Flowers)

John Talley-Jones and Kat Talley-Jones, Santa Barbara, California, circa late 1978/1979.

Kat Talley-Jones was an early photographer of The Urinals and 100 Flowers. She is the lyricist of “Ack Ack Ack Ack” and has compiled an impressive 1978 to 1983 gigography of The Urinals and 100 Flowers. Talley-Jones is the wife of the bands’ bassist and vocalist John Talley-Jones.

Professionally, Talley-Jones is an independent exhibit developer and writer. She’s worked on teams that created the Dinosaur Hall and Nature Lab at the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County and visitor center exhibits at Mammoth Cave National Park, Devils Tower National Monument, Badlands, National Park, Stones River National Battlefield, and Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area among many others.  

Talley-Jones is still involved with The Urinals and 100 Flowers, taking photos and contributing in countless other ways, something she’s done since the late 1970s.

Interview by Ryan Leach

This interview originally ran on Razorcake’s website. 

Ryan: Where did you meet John (Talley-Jones)?

Kat: Like John, I come from a military background. I was born in Italy. I later lived in Japan, the (Washington) D.C. area and Iran. I met John at the University of Texas at Austin. We gravitated towards the same circle. There were Texans and then there were army brats. We had a different frame of reference than other people did.

           John was walking down the hall of the dorm I lived in. I had pulled a picture out of the NME of Kevin Ayers and put it on my door. Kevin Ayers was wearing some blue silk jacket. It was a great photo. I loved Kevin Ayers, The Soft Machine and the Ayers, Cale, Nico, Eno album.

Ryan: That’s a great live record.

Kat: Yeah. My roommate was a lesbian, so we had a nude pinup of a woman on the door too which was very scandalous—we hoped.

Ryan: At that time in Texas it was. Even in Austin.

Kat: Right. John and a friend of his were walking down the hall. They stopped, saw the photos on the door, and wondered, “Who lives here?” I opened the door and there was John, wearing blue eye shadow, black nail polish and a toothbrush around his neck (laughs). We got to know each other after that, running in the same circles. I went out with a guy and John went out with his sister—you know how it is being college aged. Everyone is switching partners.

           John left UT. His parents thought—and maybe he did too—that film school would be better at UCLA than at UT. That probably wasn’t the case, but John left for California. My parents had moved from Iran to Redondo Beach. So we got back together again. It’s complicated.

Ryan: John had mentioned that he had moved to San Francisco before attending UCLA.

Kat: He was in San Rafael in Marin County. He lived with his aunt and uncle and worked at a bookstore in San Rafael. That was before he went to UCLA.

           My parents went back to Iran. I moved in with my brother in Santa Barbara. I was living in Santa Barbara, John went to UCLA, and then we started going out. I did not see the first Urinals iteration when they played the talent show at UCLA. However, I did see the first three-piece show at UCLA with Kevin (Barrett), Kjehl (Johansen) and John. That was on the fourth floor of Dykstra Hall.  

Ryan: Had your parents not moved back to California, would you have likely stayed in Austin?

Kat: Probably not. At that time, there wasn’t really a scene yet. It was sleepy. It was a place where you could get by getting stoned, paying $100 a month for an apartment. I was ambitious, but I didn’t happen to paint or anything. I didn’t love Austin. Just as I was leaving, friends of mine were forming The Huns. We would go to Raul’s and bands like the Skunks were playing. The Ramones and Patti Smith came through there. So there was stuff, but LA felt much more exciting.

Ryan: You mentioned The Huns. So you knew Phil Tolstead and the rest of the band?

Kat: Yes. Phil was an Air Force brat. We had a mutual friend named Victoria (Jones) who Phil went to see the Sex Pistols with in San Antonio. She had lived in London. We were people with a broader background. I can’t say that above everyone in The Huns. I’m still friends with Dan Puckett who played keyboards in the band. I knew their drummer, Tom Huckabee. My boyfriend at the time had a crush on him which was awkward (laughs). I was getting away from that situation too. My parents moving back played a part. But my brother was at UCSB and needed a roommate. I thought, “Well, I’ve got nothing going on in Austin, so I’ll live with him.”

Ryan: You took a lot of early Urinals photos—obviously, for most of their record sleeves. Was photography something you had been pursuing previously?

Kat: Well, I had a camera (laughs). It was just because I was there and I had one. I wasn’t really trying to be expressive. I didn’t take that many photos of shows; the cost of film and developing was expensive. Also, with the low light, the photos often came out horrible.

Ryan: You need an SLR and a lens with a low f-stop. Even then, results aren’t guaranteed.

Kat: I had a Canon FTb camera. I was the beneficiary of trickle down: my dad would get something new, and I’d get the old version of whatever he replaced it with. It was a nice camera that was unfortunately stolen. I didn’t take photographs as a means of self-expression. I just had a camera and I was standing there.

Ryan: If you don’t mind me digressing back a bit, did your parents have to flee Iran when the Shah fell or had they already moved back to the States? I can’t help but think that all of this—you having lived in Iran—played some part in the naming of “Surfin’ with the Shah.”

Kat: Yes, they did. They went on Christmas vacation and never went back.

Ryan: Amazing. I’m glad to hear they got out safely.

Kat: Yeah. My dad was an army officer. He liked that kind of excitement (laughs). I was in Iran and John would write me and send me punk mixtapes. Iran was very much on his mind. I would say that had a lot to do with naming of the song, “Surfin’ with the Shah.” But not the modality or anything.

Ryan: What years were you in Iran?

Kat: I was there when I was in high school, so 1970-1973. I then went to the University of Texas. I was an insane overachiever and graduated UT in three years. My parents moved back to Iran. I went to visit; I thought, “Why go back to the States? I can get a job here.” So I got a job typing repair logs for Bell Helicopter. I came back to the States with something on my resume: “I’ve had a job!” When I moved back to Austin, I was employed by a contractor that worked for the Air Force at what was then Bergstrom Air Force Base.

Urinals practicing at Dykstra Hall (UCLA). Photo by Kat Talley-Jones

Ryan: Going back to the early days of The Urinals, do you recall the first 7” EP (self-titled) coming out?

Kat: Oh, sure.  

Ryan: You took the photo for the back cover. I can only imagine being part of a self-released 7” was pretty exciting back in 1978.

Kat: It was very exciting. I had been a prog fan. I loved Yes and Emerson, Lake & Palmer. It seemed so out of reach; what ordinary mortal could release a record? To think that you could control the means of production that way was amazing. I can’t remember if that’s the one with the taped piece of Super 8 film on it, but I certainly sat down with Kevin and Kjehl and taped pieces of film on one of the labels. I stuffed the singles too into the plastic bags. I would go around with John and we’d drop the records off to stores on consignment. I was still living in Santa Barbara. I recall going to record stores there. People were often extremely uninterested, because the records were so handmade looking. Not all of the record stores—even the independent ones—were interested in the DIY thing yet.

Ryan: I grew up in Newbury Park, between Los Angeles and Santa Barbara. I found it surprising that The Urinals played an early show in Santa Barbara (at George’s on November 4, 1979). The recording was recently released as a live LP, Pin the Needles. You must have been the conduit for that show.

Kat: Yeah. There was a band that was playing up there, The Neighbors, and someone in the group worked at a record store in Goleta. I would go and hang out there and that’s how that connection was made. Santa Barbara doesn’t seem that likely, does it? There wasn’t much going on up there.

Ryan: Nearly zero. You don’t think of Santa Barbara and punk.

Kat: There was a little bit. There was The Rotters.

Ryan: That’s true. Lance Loud was from Santa Barbara.

Kat: But he had moved on.

Ryan: Right. To New York.

Kat: I lived in Isla Vista. The Rotters played a park there and I saw them. I would walk down the street and people would yell, “Hey, punk rock!” Nobody looked like that in Santa Barbara then. There was this club called The Fubar in Goleta. I saw Magazine play there. There were probably 15 people there. It was not a crowd. People didn’t know about them.

John might not frame it this way, but I was also pretty instrumental in setting up the Raul’s shows in Austin (March 27, 1978, and March 28, 1978).

Ryan: That’s interesting.

Kat: Phil Tolstead had been John’s roommate (at UT), so I can’t say that they weren’t close. But I had a connection with the Huns. The Urinals played with the Re-Cords (at Raul’s) which was Tom Huckabee from the Huns’ band. They also played with the Norvells which was Sally Norvell’s band. I don’t have a specific remembrance of setting the Raul’s shows up, but I was always writing letters to (Huns keyboardist) Dan (Puckett), Victoria (Jones) and less to Phil (Tolstead). Phil could hardly manage to write you back. We were in touch a lot. When the Huns had their bust (September 19, 1978), they sent me a T-shirt with the image of Phil being arrested by the police officer. I still have a photo of me wearing it. I think I have the original cover art for their 7”. Victoria painted the cover and sent it to me. I’ll have to look for it. I’ve got boxes filled with stuff.

Ryan: It’s pretty amazing that the first Urinals show outside of UCLA was in Austin at Raul’s. Do you recall trekking out there?

Kat: I think we drove out to Austin in Kjehl’s Chevy Caprice. It was a small Chevy; it wasn’t big. We crammed everyone in there. My particular gift is that I wake up very early. When everyone else can’t drive another moment, I’m starting to wake up. With the four of us we were able to make it to Austin in one shot. I think it was 27 hours. We just brought guitars. Kevin borrowed Tom Huckabee’s drums. We stayed with friends and drank a lot of frozen margaritas. I think those two shows at Raul’s happened over spring break (1978). That was the only time everyone could get together to leave town.

Ryan: That makes sense.

Kat: Yeah. We weren’t in school or working.

Urinals performing at a house party. Photo by Kat Talley-Jones

Ryan: Can you talk about writing “Ack Ack Ack Ack.” As far as I know, it’s your only songwriting credit, but it’s a great one.

Kat: Right. Why not stay on a highpoint? I had heard the news reports about Brenda Spencer, the girl who shot some kids in school. It was the same event that inspired the song “I Don’t Like Mondays” (by the Boomtown Rats). I was thinking about that. When I was a kid, as everyone does, I’d play war with friends. We’d chase each other around and pretend to shoot each other. The boys—I don’t know if it was genetic or what—but they could always make that machine gun sound better than I could. I was always jealous. They could vocalize “Ack Ack Ack Ack” and I couldn’t. It was a word you’d see in comic books. I always liked it as a sound. Why did I name the subject of the song Johnny? Possibly because of John.

Ryan: How did the music come together? You wrote the lyrics and John composed the music?

Kat: I wrote the lyrics. I typed them up. I was still in Isla Vista. I probably mailed them to John. But we saw each other virtually every weekend. I would drive down (to West Los Angeles) and occasionally he’d drive up. But John had an old Volkswagen that couldn’t get over the Conejo Grade.

Ryan: I lived right at the top of the Conejo Grade for years. I know exactly what you’re talking about.

Kat: Yeah. So John would take the Greyhound Bus to Santa Barbara and he’d smell like the bus for a day or two. It’d take a while to get that smell out.

Ryan: Los Angeles to Santa Barbara isn’t too far. Nevertheless, it’s still about a two-hour drive.

Kat: There would be a Urinals or 100 Flowers show. Afterwards, I’d sleep until about 4 AM. And then I’d scoot out when there was no traffic to work. I had a Buick Skyhawk with a V6 engine. It was a terrible car; the clutch cable would always break. I’d drive it straight to work. It’s no wonder why I didn’t get the best performance reviews.

Ryan: Do you recall taking the photo for the Presence of Mind 7” EP? It has a real dada feel to it.

Kat: John came up with the idea. I think it was taken at Kevin’s apartment. I don’t know why it was just John and Kjehl (on the front cover). It feels like Kevin was developing in another direction. He had gotten extremely political. I wrapped them up in newspaper and took the photo. That one turned out nice because the black and white was more saturated. It seemed like the photos for the other albums were washed out. We may have had a rudimentary darkroom; it’s possible we made the prints ourselves. That sounds like something we would’ve done. It’s insane to me that we have so few photos. We just couldn’t afford it at the time.

Ryan: You’ve compiled an amazing Urinals and 100 Flowers gigography. How did you put it together?

Kat: I had these tiny datebooks my dad would get from the USAA. I would get one and he’d keep one. When we lived in Iran, I’d make daily notes. What I was doing in Tehran, the dates I’d been on and other things. I had a habit of making daily notes. Later on, I went back to those little pocket calendars and made that gig list. It’s moderately accurate.

Ryan: It’s an incredible resource. I didn’t realize 100 Flowers played Phoenix with the Meat Puppets (on October 17, 1981). I thought those early shows at Raul’s in Austin was the only time the early incarnation of the band left California.

Kat: We drove in Seabiscuit—the name I gave my horrible Buick Skyhawk. Again, it was Kevin, John, Kjehl and I and we drove straight to Phoenix. We left early. I remember Savage Republic drove out too and played; they might have been called Africa Corps then. I did take some decent photos of that show. It was at a boxing ring (Phoenix Madison Square Gardens). There’s a nice one of John and David Wiley that I took. David was in Human Hands.

Ryan: The Consumers too.

Kat: Right. We stayed at David’s house. Bruce Licher and the other Savage Republic guys stayed with the Meat Puppets at their place. The Savage Republic guys were pretty clean cut, but the Meat Puppets took acid and were playing cowboys and Indians over them all night. 

Ryan: That makes sense.

Kat: Yeah (laughs). It was always kind of a blitzkrieg thing. We actually spent one night in Arizona. 100 Flowers played in San Francisco. We drove up for the gig and then drove back home (to Los Angeles) afterwards. It was pretty horrendous.

Ryan: I’ve done Los Angeles to Phoenix and back to see a show. It’s pretty rough.

Kat: It’s doable.

Ryan: I did it in my early twenties. I’d just spring for a motel now.

Kat: Yeah. I mean, if they were playing in San Diego now, we’d stay the night at a hotel. We drove back from a show in San Diego one time. A truck tire bounced over the center divider and hopped over us, hitting the car behind us. That was scary.

Ryan: With the benefit of hindsight, it’s interesting seeing The Urinals evolve. You can hear their musicianship develop on each EP. Eventually, they’d release compilations like Keats Rides a Harley on their own imprint, Happy Squid. I picture The Shaggs evolving like that had they actually wanted to be in a band. There aren’t many similar examples. Maybe The Raincoats? I can’t think of any at the moment from Los Angeles.

Kat: They learned more and more as they went along. I don’t think they initially had aspirations to release, say, Keats Rides a Harley or The Happy Squid Sampler. An LP was unthinkable when they started. I’m sure John and Kjehl have mentioned this, but getting a mentor like Vitus (Mataré) was key. Vitus knew how to do things. Obviously, being in The Last he had a much broader reach. They knew Gary Stewart (The Last’s manager) and people who were more record business savvy. But there was never any aspiration to get picked up by a record label. That was also unthinkable. It wasn’t a political thing: “We’re pure of heart. We’re not going to sign.” But who would’ve signed The Urinals in that era? There was some interaction with Greg Shaw at Bomp! It seemed like it was all a natural progression. It wasn’t aspirational—if that makes sense.

Ryan: It does. The Urinals and 100 Flowers weren’t trying to get on Enigma Records.

Kat: Right. I think it was really satisfying to put out friends’ work. I think about the little Happy Squid Sampler (1980). Getting stuff out by Neef and Phil Bedel (“Bells in Ice” 45, 1980). I’m not going to say it was done out of generosity of spirit; they’d just figured out how to do it. John is extremely thrifty and a monetarily conscious person. Doing things as cheaply as possible resonated with him. They were playing with all of these great bands—Leaving Trains, Meat Puppets, and Gun Club—and they had simply figured out how to get records made. So they did it without being careerist. It was coming from an artistic standpoint.    

Ryan: Do you recall the last two 100 Flowers shows at the Anti-Club (January 28 and 29, 1983)? I think that was the only time the band headlined a bill.

Kat: Oh yeah. It was so crazy—it was celebratory, but it was also the end of the band. There was that psychological development: celebrating and mourning at the same time. I don’t know why, but it always seemed like 100 Flowers played when it was raining. That’s true up until the present. I think the Anti-Club shows happened during an El Nino year. It was really wet outside; everyone at the club was wet. It was humid; the walls were dripping. The Minutemen played. It was a lot of fun. I remember thinking, “Why couldn’t it have been like this all the time?” But people didn’t appreciate them until they were ending the band.

           The second night was with the Leaving Trains and The Last. I don’t remember that show being as wild as the one where The Minutemen played. But how could it ever be?

Ryan: With the release of the Negative Capability compilation and reunion in 1996, it seemed like folks caught up with the Urinals. It was the same thing with Mission of Burma when they reunited.

Kat: Yes. Honestly, I think some of it had to do with the singles being collectors’ items. They were being bootlegged back in the 1990s. “Oh, that band I paid $100 for their 7” is reforming.” Perhaps I’m wrong on that

Ryan: I think you’re right. I was in New York City two years ago and I went to Almost Ready Records. They had just gotten the first Urinals 7” EP in. I remember saying, “Oh, wow! That’s the first one I’ve seen in the wild.” It has an effect.

Kat: Oh really?

Ryan: Yeah. I’d never seen an original copy of the first 7” before. Those records suck you in. We were talking about Vitus and The Last earlier: I recall seeing a test press of Look Again (1980)—obviously, the record was never released—on the wall at Amoeba for hundreds of dollars in the mid-2000s. It sticks with you. Especially with self-released records like The Urinals 7”s. They had an initial small pressing, limited distribution, and often record labels—with or without a band’s approval—will repress titles once used copies hit a certain price. If you released it and you’re not repressing them, prices go up and they sometimes get pirated.

Kat: It always irritated me. The band never saw any of that money. Like I said, John was very thrifty. I’m sure he wasn’t in the red. But they weren’t sold for much originally. I don’t know how many copies of the first EP we have. I’d be surprised if it was five. You wanted them out in the world.

Ryan: You’re still involved with the Urinals and 100 Flowers. I see you’re still taking photographs. It’s amazing seeing them play places like Belgium and China.

Kat: Yeah. I always thought they were doing interesting things. It wasn’t random. I had mentioned that their records being scarce had some allure, but they were doing something different. They continue to. All of John’s iterations of the band have been good. There are things I’ve liked more than other things. There have been times where I’ve liked the band less than at other times. But they’ve persisted because they have merit. All of the band members have a vision. I believe in it. There have been times where I’ve been busy with my own work and haven’t gone to shows. As I mentioned earlier, I wake up early, so having a set start at midnight isn’t always my favorite thing. But I enjoy watching them play. I think John appreciates that if I think something sucks that I’ll tell him. But not with an axe to grind.

Kat and John today, photo by Pat Aldarete. 

#urinals #100flowers #kattalleyjones #johntalleyjones #ackackackack #happysquid 

[ladyhistorypod]

Episode 15: Boss B!tches

Sources:

Elleanor Eldridge

Smithsonian Library Blog

Memoirs of Elleanor Eldridge (Smithsonian Libraries)

Women Extra and Ordinary: Elleanor Eldridge

Documenting the American South

Rhode Island Historical Society

Stages of Freedom

Further Learning: Stages of Freedom on Zora Neale Hurston

Madam CJ Walker

National Women’s History Museum

Philanthropy Round Table

Guinness Book of World Records

History Channel

Preserving Black History

Mary Ellen Pleasant

New York Times

CNBC

Black Past

Black Economics

Biography

Attributions: Katy Kirby, Live a-humble, Cash Register, San Francisco bound

Click below for a transcript of the episode!

Archival Audio: I can make my own living just as well as he can make his. He ought to be glad I'm working. Just because he can't stand competition he wants me to quit. My work isn't important enough. I'm only a woman but he, the man, is boss. He'd like me to be a slave to the house. Look at this mess.

Haley: Starting a business now is increasingly just slowly getting harder and harder because…  and I'm doing this because I want to start an Etsy, because money and graduating in a pandemic sucks. Like Etsy has ridiculous fee prices.

Lexi: Yes.

Haley: Like just uploading a picture is like twenty cents and I realize this for like all these other accounts there are just so many different fees. But then when I was talking to like my dad and the older generation family members, they’re like “start a business, have an idea, and like create something” and I’m like do you guys not understand how difficult that is? Like I don’t–

Lexi: Well you need money to make ideas.

Alana: Yeah.

Lexi: I have plenty of business-worthy ideas and I always like sit at the dinner table and joke that someone should give me like X. amount of dollars because I've researched how much my new idea is going to cost but no one ever takes me seriously and they're like “what is this your thirty fifth business idea this year” but like… compostable dog toys? Fantastic idea.

Haley: Oh, I love that idea.

Lexi: All it would take me is a grand to get that off the ground so if anyone wants to invest. But guess what? I don't have a grand.

Haley: Well I’m using my savings account for this.

Lexi: Oof.

Haley: I have invested like a grand or so and I’ve taken way longer– I've been thinking about this like for the whole pandemic like since May. And with moving that was kind of like a shit show obviously like school comes first, but I'm at the point where now I'm just like making stuff and I have to do another order for shipping like candle materials? It's a hundred dollars for shipping. Yeah. I like making stuff. I’m a crafty bitch.

[INTRO MUSIC]

Alana: Hello and welcome to the Lady History; the good, the bad, and the ugly ladies you missed in history class. In the Zoom meeting today as always is Lexi. Lexi, which of your business ideas do you think is the most sustainable?

Lexi: My most sustainable business idea is to 3d print dog toys out of corn. That if the dog buries them in the yard or destroys them and you need to get rid of them, they are compostable. Because one of the biggest struggles about being a pet owner is that, at least for my bird a lot of the toys are very made of natural materials and so I don't feel bad throwing out the broken pieces, but dog toys are made of not good stuff.

Alana: And it's the other constant in my life, Haley. Haley, what would you do with a million dollars?

Haley: I would have a dog. Dogs don't cost a million dollars, but like…

Lexi: You could spoil a dog.

Haley: Yeah.

Alana: And I'm Alana and I can't eat the rich because pig isn't kosher.

Lexi: In terms of women starting businesses, I was thinking if Lady History doesn't work out, if we never make real money our business plan can be–

Alana: How dare you, we have made six dollars.

Lexi: Okay. But like, if we need real money and all museums stop existing because of the rona we can open a bake shop called Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots’ Bakery.

Haley: I love it. I'm down. You know that's like always been my dream is to have a bakery but part of the bakery… 

Lexi: I believe there's a place near me I think you would really like. You probably couldn't eat anything there– well maybe you could eat like the savory stuff. But it's called Sweet Memories and the first floor is a tiny little restaurant that serves soup and gourmet grilled cheese and has baked goods but the upstairs is a little craft store where they sell locally made, handmade stuff and that is kind of how I envision Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots’ Bakery.

Haley: So that's exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be a chef growing up and I would, that's how I like bake all my cookies and everything, all egg substitutes. I just hate it when people try to make like restaurants so freakin elaborate, like where they have– and I'm not talking diners, diners are perfection like the gross greasy diner? Give that to me.

Lexi: Mm. That’s the good stuff

Haley: I don't want to go to a cafe where like the list of crap you can get is longer than like my shoe size… I have small feet. Okay fine, I have very small feet so like let me rephrase that.

Lexi: Longer than Robert’s shoe size.

Alana, laughing: Ayyyyy.

Haley: Ayyyy.

Lexi: That was a dick joke. I’m sorry.

Haley: Longer than my wand. My bakery has to have a good menu that's like very limited. So again, soups. I love soups and sandwiches, like you have your grilled cheese–

Lexi: I mean it’s literally gourmet grilled cheese and like three kinds of soups.

Haley: Like you always have like the tomato, you always have broccoli cheddar, and you always have chili and like one seasonal.

Lexi: I had a pumpkin wild mushroom seasonal soup that was to die for.

Haley: Amazing, that sounds so great. And then for the bakery stuff, it's stuff that like you can eat right there– like a croissant would be excellent. Cookies would be excellent, but also just like you could special order like a pie or cake.

Lexi: Yes!

Haley: And then one part of it is like a library type situation. Not necessarily bookstore, but just like all my books. I have over two hundred books of course I could spare a few books. So you could sit there, read, do a chit chat.

Alana: It's like those books at Gelman that are like you can't take them out but you can read them there. On reserve or whatever it’s called.

Haley: Yes. And then lastly, have stuff like packaged because like hostess gifts. I am the queen of bringing a hostess gift. There have been moments where I forgot it and that's why I've made up with it of just being really elaborate. So if like you need a serving dish for the cookies you're going to buy from my place? Of course I have some ivory porcelain cooking dish– like serving dishes. You want like a Haley inspired Dutch oven? you damn Skippy you're gonna have it in three colors.

Lexi: So I guess the final verdict is Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots Bake Shop will be an egg-free, small menu, gift shop, library, eatery experience.

Haley: Absolutely.

Lexi: For my business woman I am covering yet another lady from the Women Extra and Ordinary project that I did with the Smithsonian Libraries. I feel like this is going to get real old real fast, how many of these women I'm covering, but you know what I already did the research. So today I'm gonna talk about Elleanor Eldridge, who lived in Rhode Island and was born approximately in March 1785. Her father, Robin Eldridge, was a formerly enslaved person who fought in the American Revolution in exchange for his freedom. Her mother, Hannah Prophet, was a Native American who died when Elleanor was ten years old. Elleanor was one of nine siblings. After her mother's death, an aunt suggested Elleanor never get married, and Elleanor began working as a servant. While working, Elleanor became skilled in weaving, spinning, paper and soap making, wallpapering, cheesemaking and dairy working. And to keep her living costs down, she exchanged housework for boarding so that she wouldn't have to pay rent. And through her skills and smart planning, she was able to expand her money making ventures, performing various tasks to earn money. Elleanor was naturally gifted as a businesswoman, and when she succeeded in saving up a large sum of money she began investing in property, which is a pretty good business move. She was also able to take out a mortgage to further her investments. And this was an extremely unique position for a woman of color living in Rhode Island at the time that she lived. So she took advantage of her own savvy and did something really unique and awesome. She built a home on the property she bought with a space that she could rent out. So like think modern duplex but this is the early 1800s and your landlord living next door is a badass businesswoman. So I wouldn't mind her as my landlord. But Elleanor's aunt was right to advise Elleanor to never get married because at the time women could not own property in their own name if they were married. So married women could only hold property in shared ownership with their husbands or after their husband's death, so Elleanor was smart to not get married because it would have meant that her husband would control the property that she had acquired through their own hard work, so by staying single she kept her business interests in her own name which is really good. When Elleanor fell ill in her forties, she went to stay with her family to recover from her sickness. And after becoming well, she had to travel to assist another ill relative who was suffering from cholera. And because many people in her hometown thought she was gone for a really long time, they believed that she died, and a disagreement surrounding the loan that she taken out– the mortgage– led to Elleanor having her property holdings wrongfully taken from her. And she decided to take legal action in 1837. She became the first Black woman in America to plead her case in court and despite overwhelming evidence–

Alana: I look pretty good for a dead bitch.

Lexi: Despite overwhelming evidence, including three male witnesses, a corrupt sheriff testified against her and his testimony was enough for the judge to rule against her. And after spending years working and growing her business, Elleanor lost everything. But Elleanor did not give up. A strong-willed woman, she pursued a settlement out of court which allowed her to repurchase her property, but she was still short on funds to pay the fee that she needed to pay to recover the property. So she had a big brain plan, like the big brain businesswoman she was, to help her cause. Elleanor, who was illiterate, enlisted the help of a ghostwriter; abolitionist Frances Harriet Whipple Green, and Green transcribed Elleanor's life story into a memoir, and the sales of the memoir helped Elleanor repurchase her lost property. And you can read the book by accessing a digital scan on the Smithsonian library website if you are so inclined to read it. The terminology is a little dated and it's a little hard to read if you speak modern English, but if you're curious for a firsthand account… Because even though it was physically written by Francis, it was told by Elleanor, so it's a really unique story. And the book is in the public domain but if you're so inclined that you're just like this is really cool you can actually purchase a physical copy and have it if you would like to. Elleanor’s memoirs include this quote which I really think sums up her whole situation quite well so I'm just going to read it in her words– “No MAN would have been treated so; and if A WHITE WOMAN had been the subject of such wrongs, the whole town—nay, the whole country, would have been indignant; and the actors would have been held up to the contempt they deserve! Newspaper editors would have copied, and commented on it, till every spirit of honor, of justice and of chivalry, would have been roused.” So I think that says a lot about the situation that she was in and how she felt about it and how precarious the whole thing was the fact that if it had happened to a guy, or even to a white woman, it would have not gone down the same way it did. So at the time of her death, Elleanor had recovered most of what she lost and regained most of her property and money, and her story is regarded by scholars today as an important unique account of the story of a Black woman in early America pursuing her own career. In a time when many Black stories were lost, Elleanor's was saved and today she can continue to tell her story through her book. When not close for COVID-19, the Rhode Island Historical Society has a walking tour. It’s about Elleanor and other Black Rhode Islanders from early America, so it stops at a couple locations in the city to share their stories. And the Historical Society also presents a one woman reenactment of Elleanor's trial called “No Man Ever Would Have Been Treated So: The Trials of Elleanor Eldridge” which can be booked as an educational event for groups and clubs. It's pretty cool. And the actress who does it seems really cool so Google it. One of the links actually in the tumblr sources that I am sharing is a video where the actress talks about her experience and a couple other things related to womanhood, so if you're curious about that kind of stuff go watch it.

Alana: I hate that you’ve now done two Rhode Island ladies, and I've been to Rhode Island and telling me about all these cool things to do in Rhode Island and I didn't do any of them because I was like eleven and–

Lexi: You'll go to Rhode Island again.

Alana: Lady History field trip to go see that play.

Lexi: Hey, maybe she could do the play and then we could do a live episode about other famous Rhode Island ladies.

Haley: That would be fantastic.

Alana: Manifest it. Say it on the pod, make it happen.

Lexi: Live show at the Rhode Island Historical Society about Rhode Island ladies.

[Archival Audio of a hymnal]

Haley: My fabulous gal today is Madam CJ Walker, or, by Guinness Book of World Records, the first female self made millionaire in America. And before we get to that point, this history book starts at her childhood. Born on a plantation in Delta, Louisiana, Sarah Breedlove was one of six children to Owen and Minerva Anderson Breedlove. I love the name Minerva. Owen and Minerva Anderson Breedlove, “former slaves-turned sharecroppers.” And that was a quote, and I don’t like that that’s how it’s phrased. Like “former slaves-turned sharecroppers” is exactly what happened, my problem is like in the sentence I kept reading it it's like “oh but they’re sharecroppers now” not like–

Lexi: It's like still bad. 

Haley: Yeah it's still bad and this is because–

Alana: It's not even bad to less bad, it's bad the different bad.

Haley: Yeah. It hits differently. And this is all post Civil War. I even put in my notes like this quote is weird. Unfortunately, her parents died when she was seven and Madam CJ moved in with her sister who worked in the cotton fields. And at age fourteen she married Moses McWilliams, and this is partly to get away from her abusive brother in law.Because already we're off to a rocky start if like your footnote is to get away from an abusive person. Maybe there was love. I couldn't find much about Moses. Again, life was just not on Madam CJ’s side, and her husband died in 1887. And she had to raise their two year old daughter Leila, known as A’Leila. She moved to St Louis with the hope of a better life and not just like living in poverty getting out of that poverty situation because… like yeah absolutely. She wanted– and she was very adamant on making a better life for herself and her daughter and knowing that she could do it as a woman, not just like having that widow title slapped on her. Because we know– even now still, if you’re a widow that's kind of like your identity, your personality. It's like “oh… your partner died.” And kind of the same with men like raising children and that's not what we want. So in St Louis, her four brothers were barbers and she worked both as a laundress and a cook. She also joined the African Methodist Episcopal Church where she met Black men and women who were both educated and successful. And this is kind of like an inspirational moment for her. This was a pivotal moment that she, in my research, just kept going back to. She went through a bit more of a life struggle with a failed marriage and just more financial ups and downs which would make anyone physically and mentally strained. However, in 1904, she began using African American businesswoman Annie Turbo Malone’s “The Great Wonderful Hair Grower” because she was starting to see like scalp problems where… concluded into like hair loss, and I’ll explain more of that because I had to do some more research myself. She also joined Malone's team of Black women sales agents, and this is where she starts to become one of those successful independent people she'd previously admired. And I believe this is around the time Leila actually went to like university, so that was a big yay. I also would like to pause, like I said, to do some research about hair care products because all hair is different. And these products especially that Madam CJ later invents were for Black women who lost their hair to scalp disorders or most likely a form of alopecia, like relatively common and Madam CJ had it too. That is not to say that hair loss just comes in scalp disorders, like I get hair loss when I use certain rubber bands because I have really thick coily hair that will break off at the end. Apparently my hair type is prone to like stress falling out. After some time in the business field, and I believe this was just like about a year, she moved to Denver where she married quote “ad man” Charles Joseph Walker. Hence the new name of Madam CJ Walker. and this is important in the business sense of her life because she started out with a dollar twenty five, and yes this was way way back ago, but in the sense of building like a business that was launching her career to be a self made millionaire that's a little bit of dough. And she was able to launch “Madam Walker’s Wonderful Hair Grower” which her husband, the ad man, helped advertise and getting like mail order business started because remember, we did not have the lovely internet. So that was a huge chunk of the business to get like revenue, get the word out there and such. And she knew that there was a market here, because one she was in that market and she just previously worked in that market so she could easily tap into it. And as a Black woman, she knew how to essentially not only market, but just be like “here's how you use it.” So unfortunately this marriage ended in a divorce, and she later moved to Indianapolis. And in 1910, she built a factory for her company, now named Walker Manufacturing Company. And this transformation made it possible for her to become an advocate for Black women especially in the economic independence realm, with Walker Manufacturing Company she could branch out and do a lot more. And she opened up a training program called the Walker System, and basically this huge network of licensed sales agents blossomed. And this led back into her core ideals of giving back and being very generous because she believed that she had generous opportunities given to her, so now she needed to give back. And she remembered what it was like to be that person on the poverty line being inspired by these wealthy, educated, successful people. She ended up employing forty thousand Black women and men in the United States, Central America, and the Caribbean. I couldn't find out if this was specifically one part of her business or like the whole network or other endeavors because she also had a cosmetics branch called the National Negro Cosmetics Manufactuers Association that she also started. Regardless, forty thousand people worked many different spans of land is a lot. And her worth in all senses of the word just kept growing and growing. Financially, in the last year of her life she reached that one million dollar mark with her sales exceeding five hundred thousand dollars and some reports saying that at her death, the value of her remaining estate was more like six hundred thousand, which is about eight million today. Just like, what Alana asked, what would I do with a million and maybe a house… like now thinking of it. Because one of her things she spent her money on was a mansion named Villa Lewaro which was a five point five acre plot in Irvington, New York. And I think I might have to do like a drive by field trip. I know where Irvington, New York is and by looking up the street name when I was like googling all this, I think I know exactly where it is. This was also for Madam CJ to be closer to her daughter at this point. And at the end of this like all, happy and sad, Madam CJ continued her avid philanthropy until her death from kidney failure by bequeathing two thirds of her net profits to charities and thousands of dollars to different schools and individuals. There is a Netflix special that’s out. I have not watched it yet. I thought it was still in production. Lexi was the kind beautiful soul to send me an email. Lexi, have you watched it and can you give us a review?

Lexi: I watched it. Since I didn't dive as deep into research on her as you did, I'm not sure how accurate it is because there were you know little stories you didn't cover… Because this is like it's not just one movie it's like a multi part series, so I guess my curiosity maybe after you watch it you can tell us how accurate it was. But from an entertainment standpoint it was really good.

Haley: This is going to be like once I'm done with like writing my thesis and everything–

Lexi: Treat yo self.

Haley: –and be like this is amazing.

Lexi: Yeah, it was like… In terms of entertainment value it was a really amazing woman focused story which I appreciate.

Haley: I've seen the previews, I knew it was coming out and I really thought I was still in production or was like postponed because La Rona. Those looked fabulous.

[Archival Audio of a song about San Francisco]

Alana: So I initially found out about my lady from Drunk History, which is classic me. It’s one of my favorite shows. I have said on this podcast before that I was devastated when it was canceled. I'm still devastated. I don't think I'll ever be over that loss in my life. But then in researching this lady I found out that very little of the Drunk History story is accurate and so that broke my heart. And I'm glad I followed up with some research and wasn't just like using Drunk History as a source because I don't think that's a good idea. Okay, so, Mary Ellen Pleasant was born no one really knows when so I can't tell you her star sign, but in 1814ish. One of my sources said August 19, 1814, which would make her a Leo and I definitely can see her as a fire sign. She wrote three autobiographies, and every single one gives a different birth date and even year. And also no one even really knows where she was born it's possible she was born free in Philadelphia or into slavery in Georgia, who knows? Only Mary Ellen, and she's dead. She spent her early life in Nantucket, Massachusetts where she was indentured to a family of abolitionists. Insert lady doing equations meme. The… I… What? I don't understand how abolitionists owned slaves. Like Alexander Hamilton owned slaves. What's his name? His lover? I haven’t watched Hamilton in so long.

Lexi: Oh, John Laurens.

Alana: Also owned slaves.

Lexi: Yes. But they were like “slavery bad, but we own slaves.”

Alana: I forgot where I was. Oh, I was at my insert lady doing equations meme because abolitionists who own people make me confused. Eventually she was married to a man named James Henry Smith who was either white or biracial or mixed race. And he was an abolitionist as well but also a plantation owner. That's one of those things that I am a big ole question mark. So the two of them as a couple gave a lot of money to the abolitionist movement because they had a lot of money from owning a plantation that I think meant they also owned people, which I am so confused. But James Smith died in the early 1840s and left her a lot of money, some of which she invested and some of which she kept giving away to the cause. The cause of abolition. She got remarried to John Pleasant and they moved to San Francisco to avoid slavers, so formerly a local lady for Haley, even though she doesn’t live in San Francisco anymore. I'm not sure what happened to him. He is never mentioned again besides she moved with him to San Francisco. Mary Ellen became business partners with a man named Thomas Bell. It's possible they were romantically involved but Mary Ellen like found a wife for him, so I don't think so. But anyway they amassed thirty million dollars.

Haley: Throuple?

Alana: Throuple, maybe, I don’t know. Together they amassed thirty million dollars in back then money which is almost a billion dollars today. In the 1890 census, she listed her profession as capitalist which is like so on the nose and I love it. She owned laundries and restaurants and dairies and all these other things. She even owned a Wells Fargo. And she hired Black people, especially Black people who had escaped slavery, to work in them, which gave them opportunities that they probably wouldn't have had otherwise. And this is where she gets the nickname– she starts to get the nickname the Mother of Civil Rights in California. She was a light skinned Black woman, so she could have been white passing, and she did until a census taken after she had gotten kind of successful and amassed all this wealth, she wrote in that she was Black instead of white. She also, furthering her title of Mother of Civil Rights in California, she sued a cable car company for not allowing Black people on at all, setting the stage for Rosa Parks to be even allowed on the bus in the first place to refuse to give up her seat. She won several other lawsuits regarding racial discrimination in the 1860s and 70s and she starts getting notorious among white people. Obviously, because powerful Black women make white people uncomfortable. That’s just a fact. And so many people started calling her Mammy Pleasant which she hated so much because they were like using it derogatorily. Apparently a pastor in Sacramento wrote her a letter addressed to Mammy Pleasant asking for something and she wrote back to him on the same piece of paper because she didn't want to waste her own on him. Big Dick Energy.

Haley: That’s a power move. That’s a power move right there. That’s like saying “best regards” on an email.

Alana: Yeah. Jumping back in time a little bit, in 1859 the abolitionist John Brown led a raid on Harpers Ferry. This is a pretty famous event, he got caught and he was hanged and they found a note in his pocket that basically said here's what I gave you thirty thousand dollars to do– regards to the raid– and it signed, but there's a case of mistaken identity, so no one actually knows who did it. Except, on her deathbed, Mary Ellen confessed to it being her. She pulled the whole “tell Cersei. I want her to know it was me.” And her gravestone reads “friend of John Brown” because she was. After Thomas Bell died, his widow sued Mary Ellen and she lost almost everything. So there was some falling out there that's something happened. It's also possible she studied voodoo like the actual voodoo like the Haitian voodoo, not like the garbage touristy shit, from Marie Laveau herself, who I’m hoping maybe we’ll cover at some point. I think Marie Laveau was really cool. But that's one of those things that like she said and can't really be corroborated even against Mary Ellen’s own stories. I think it's possible that that's just like something she said to scare the white people even further. There's a park in San Francisco named after her. Haley did you ever go?

Haley: I feel like I do, in the sense I know the plot of land, or like general area. Is it in Golden Gate? Because Golden Gate Park has like a bunch of little pockets.

Alana: No, it's on the corner– it's on the corners of some streets. Anyway there's a park in San Francisco and she haunts it and she has been known to–

Haley: I wish I’d known that. I really… I would have gone.

Alana: I know. Yeah, she throws eucalyptus nuts at people, supposedly. I think that’s cool. That’s what I would do. And she used her position to make a better life for herself and better the lives of others and used her capabilities… And she had… She was such a smart woman, and so capable, and so manipulative but in a good way. She knew what people were thinking and could use that to her advantage, and not just to her own advantage, to the advantage of the people in her community who she really helped. And the best quote from her is “I'd rather be a corpse than a coward” and that's what makes me think she is a fire sign.

Lexi: You can find this podcast on Twitter and Instagram at LadyHistoryPod. Our show notes and a transcript of this episode will be on ladyhistorypod dot tumblr dot com. If you like the show, leave us a review, or tell your friends, and if you don't like the show, keep it to yourself.

Alana: Our logo is by Alexia Ibarra you can find her on Twitter and Instagram at LexiBDraws. Our theme music is by me, GarageBand, and Amelia Earhart. Lexi is doing the editing. You will not see us, and we will not see you, but you will hear us, next time, on Lady History.

[OUTRO MUSIC]

Haley: Next week on Lady History, we’re diving into some misconceptions. Retelling the stories that should have been told the first time.

[captawesomesauce]

Thoughts on this trip...

I needed this trip, but i need a trip where it’s just her and I alone even more...

Dad has called and yelled and screamed and texted and emailed every single day. He has called me, my mother, my sisters, his other ex wife, everyone... he has lost his absolute fucking mind since i’ve been gone. He’s sent threats, he’s been off the handle... he’s fucking crazy.

W’s parents aren’t any better. They will text her about her lack of “mutual respect” when what they really mean is her lack of “blind obedience.” They wanted to pick her up for labor day weekend, she said no... they showed up anyways and got pissed because she wasn’t there and went off on her about her lack of respect. What about their lack of respecting her right to say no and have that be honored? She isn’t a teenager, she is a grown woman, with a job, who pays all of her own bills, and lives her own life. But nope, “mutual respect” means that even though she said no, they drove hours and hours to her place and got mad when she wasn’t there. It’s insane.

The trip though..... We’ve gone to the Commemorative Air Museum, Natural History Museum, Science Center and Planetarium laser show. We’ve spent hours at the Hall of Flame Fire museum, and we’ve even gone to a used bookstore.

We drove across the city to get asian cake, we explored a bunch of international and asian markets, we went to Michaels and worked on puzzles and cross stitch. 

We’ve had multiple movie nights, where we cuddled up on the couch together to watch Blazing Saddles, The Breakfast Club, The Princess Bride and more. 

We’ve both read a lot of books, in bed, on the couch, and even on the back porch. 

We’ve stood in the window and on the porch and watched two monsoons come in and swirl all around us, dropping rain, kicking up dust, and putting on a spectacular light show.

We’ve cooked good food, and gone out for good food.

We’ve played games together, and kissed a lot :)

And there’s more to go... we’re going to the Wild Animal Park and Aquarium tomorrow, and we’ll see what else happens this week before we head home. I really want to go to the football game in LA on saturday, but... I dunno... we’ll see what happens because right now, I’m just loving the time with her. 

The thing is, everyone says it’s #goals and romantic and this and that, but for me.. and for us... this is just how I like to live my life. I have never been shy with affection, never withdrawn, never played games. We have our own interests and our own things, but we also love to be together, to hold hands, to just be happy and in love. Yesterday was our 1 year anniversary, and I know we’ll have another 80 or 100 or 10,000 to go... because the key thing is, we’re content. We’re not hoping this will change, or that will change, we’re not hoping that something will get better... because stuff always changes, but things are what they are too. Being in classes together, working on projects, going through my health issues, and everything has shown that above all else, we work really well together.. even when things are rough and complicated. 

When tested, we don’t attack each other, we don’t have communication issues, and we don’t blame each other. That’s not just where we are right now, but more about who we are in our core. And we mesh so well that way that it’s an amazing foundation to build a life long love on top of.

When we first got here, an old lady stopped us at the market and said we looked so happy together. We were just walking up and down the aisles, grabbing things, shopping, and telling jokes and being happy and “appropriately” affectionate. No tongues down each others throats but we do hold hands, and rub arms, and hug a lot :) And I guess she noticed lol. Another time we went to the market, and I was just in a mood, and happy, and holding her hand in mine just filled me with so much love and joy and the place was soooo very empty and barren, and I couldn’t help but hug her, hold her, spin her around, and dance with her a bit just to make her smile, make her laugh, and feel her in my arms and against my heart. It wasn’t anything I thought of, I was just as surprised as she was, when I did it lol. But that’s what happens..... not just in the first few weeks, or months... or even a full year later.. but.. always. 

I’m just a goofy lovable affectionate sap, and she’s the perfect puzzle piece to fit beside me now and forever. 

Happy Anniversary @all-the-w-ness, I love you!

[axther]

Hi Etsi! Could I have a matchup please?🥺 my names alexia and I’m a pansexual intp! While I have a rather serious exterior I’m soft spoken and really passionate about things like literature art and music/the world tl;dr I’m the ‘encyclopedia’ friend🤘🏽😪 I dance ballet and my toes can show the hard work I put into it💀 I also love cats to the point of owning a few, and working with my community to make sure all of the feral or abandoned cats are in good hands/environments

Ok so before we get this thing on the road there are several things I would like to point out-

1), that you’re my first matchup 🥺 tysm 💖💖💖, 2) my best friend does point toe ballet and holy crap you have my respect, and 3) i would absolutely let you propose w a candy ring 👀 we’re married now

1 is...Kirishima! 

You had him at hello, probably

You read a lot and are an intellectual 😤 so if he needed help studying for English or Literature chances are high he’d go to you first. After all, the reward of kisses seems much better than the punishment of getting smacked by a newspaper. 

Definitely thinks that seeing and hearing you talk about your favourite books and music is cute as hell and absolutely supports you and even eggs you on. Text him at two AM because of your favourite artist that dropped a new album? He is up, he is ready, and he is hyped. 

Would look into your favourite music, 200%. You into French pop? Stromae’s playing the car on the way to a coffee date. Kpop is more your thing? Oddly enough, ATEEZ and BTS are in his music library…

Oh

But oh my god

He wouldn’t really know what to expect when he goes to see you dance for the first time. 

But…

Would die and think he went to heaven. All he sees is an angel. 

Always gets front seat, be it inside of the dance studio and you’re practising in front of the mirror, or inside of an opera house and he’s got the best seats in the house. No matter what, he’s always close enough that you can make eye contact with him. 

And speaking of eye contact, his face is just a mix of 😳, 🥰, and 🥴. He’s just. So in love. I’m sorry i don't make the rules 

When people say ‘not every man’ they’re talking about Kirishima and Tom from the Carnegie Mellon Natural History Museum in particular 

Kisses?? Are a must 

This boy would just appear out of nowhere and just give smooches!! Maybe you’re just vibing on the couch reading and he just swoops down!! And he smothers your face with kisses. 

They’re the loud ones too. The absolute best. In the distance, Sero and Bakugou fake gag. 

Every time you do anything his heart just swells, like a balloon. 

#2 is...Kakyoin!

So hear me out 

But you guys met because he wanted to draw you. 

Maybe it was in the dance studio, or you were reading in the park or something, but he saw you and was just like ‘!!!’

When he asks you he acts all cool and smooth, say how beautiful you look in the sunlight, and if he could just sketch you real quick, but on the inside, he’s just a mess of ‘cutecutecutecutecutecutecutecutecut’

He does his best on the sketch, and on a technical standing, he’s done a great job, he feels like he hasn’t captured the real ‘you’, so to make it up (and to definitely not motivate his own benefit and get your number) if you would want to go to coffee sometime. 

Of course, you guys go get coffee. 

After about, hmm, too many not quite dates, he just turns (while you two are going off in Dance Dance Revolution) and says ‘are we dating?’ 

(god he hopes so) 

And you just turn back to him like ‘??? you asked me out the first time we met. Yes?? We’ve been dating for three months?’ 

He’s elated, of course, and loses the match due to him just freezing with a happy lil blush but a massive smile 

‘Does that mean I’m your boyfriend?’ leads to ‘Yes??! I’ve introduced you to my parents?? As my boyfriend??” 

Book dates are going to be a fucking staple, let me tell you now 

Going to bookstores (used ones, probably), sitting on the floor and reading for half an hour before buying the books, heading to one of the houses, crashing on the couch, and cuddle reading for about three hours more. 

Hypothetical debates about different literature passages just result in butterfly kisses and naps and oh lord now im soft 

#3 is...Momo!! 

Our own queen would love you, down to your very bones. 

Chances are pretty high that you’d meet from you warding someone off from harassing her (that’s she’s too polite to kick in the nuts) so that serious exterior comes in handy!! 

She thanks you, ofc, but then she sees you and oh jeez is that a blush? 

Probably doesn’t know how to deal with her crush for the first bit. 

Her mind, though less vulgar, probably runs with ‘oh god oh fuck am I catching feelings?? Oh shit oh jesus’ 

She’s got responsibilities!! She’s got parents with expectations!! It’s her first crush!! She’s panicking!! Someone help her!!!!

But then you go up one day and ask if she’s okay because she’s been zoning out a lot, which is super weird for her, and if she needs to talk to someone who won’t spill her guts for the school then you’re there. And she shortcircuits. 

She’s got this new mindset that she’s got to get this off of her chest, she’s got to get this figured out and nicely filed away either in ‘first relationship’ or ‘another heartbreaking incident that’ll just be buried and then one day I’ll die’. 

She asks people what to do, but then Mina speaks up. 

“I think Alexia volunteers helps out with the local cats?” 

Ping. 

Momo gets to work, trying to figure out exactly where you help and how she herself can help and suddenly she finds herself knee-deep in volunteer work and then she realises that she actually likes it. For maybe a couple of days, she actually forgets why she got into the whole thing in the first place-she just enjoys helping cats, and more than once has made cat toys and tools on the spot using her quirk. 

But then you walk in over the weekend, and she turns and sees you. She’s covered in cat hair, there’s a tabby that’s snoozing in her arms, and she’s flushed bright red. 

She thinks she looks like a mess, and oh no!! She’s made a fool of herself!! Ugh!! 

But then you smile, wave, and tell her that she looks cute with a cat in her arms. 

Slowly, she gets closer and closer, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say that the cats were acting like a hive mind of a wingman. 

You need a certain pair of clippers or maybe you have glasses? Or a bracelet?

Whoops, Misty the Prussian Blue has them and she runs over to Momo and hands them over. Now you’ve gotta ask for them back and what’s this?? Momo was wondering if maybe you’d want to hang out sometime outside of the cat shelter? 

Yeah, you say. Yeah, that sounds great. 

(Thanks, Misty.) 

[past-perfect-future-tense]

Elements of Chance Part 4

So apparently my Word program has decided to work so I’ll post the next part of the book.  Again, I like comments, reblogs are good, whatever you want to talk about from the post.  Tags are at the end.

“Can you at least for once tell me where we’re going? For the better half of the day I have been at your mercy.” I questioned for something, I would be happy for even a hint of the destination.

“Well, it’s not as though I sat and planned this day out. I think you will like where we’re going. No, I think you will love it! I think you might even hug me to thank me for the surprise.” He was smiling as he said this.

“Don’t push your luck. So if I love it I will hug you and if I hate it can I hit you?” He wasn’t too keen on that idea as I could see from his expression. “So do we have a deal? I mean if you are that confident in your assumption, then you won’t mind the wager.” I could see I was pushing it and he was playing along.

“Fine, you can hit me if you don’t like the place that I’m taking you. Care to shake on it?” Now he was just being coy.

“No, I trust that you will hold up your end of the deal.” I smiled at him as we continued to walk a little further. If he left me here, I would have no idea where we were. I’ve been in London and some of the areas I’m very familiar with, however this was not one of them. Eventually we came up to a store with two large windows framed in bright yellow. It was very eye catching and quite bright for the area. The yellow caught your attention and was a pop of color against the dull brick facade of the building and those around it. I read the sign, it was a book store. He was right and I would have to hold my end of the deal.

“So, do you like our destination?”

“Yes, I love bookstores! How did you know?” I was surprised and flattered by his observations of me.

“After your display at the museum when you became distraught over not being able to buy some books I figured you would love a place like this. Come on, let’s go inside.” He reached to open the door but before he could reach the handle I reached out and embraced him. I gave him squeeze and stood upon my tip toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you!” I was touched by his thoughtfulness and kindness. Why did he have to be so perfect? Why did he have to be so hard to resist? He smiled and opened the door and I walked in ahead of him.

The smell of the bookstore was amazing. I loved the smell of old books. It had a familiarity and history that you can’t get from a big bookstore with bright lights and a crowd of people competing for overpriced books. From the sign on the front I read that it sold rare and used books. When I was in London previously I had taken home several used books from a charity shop in Chelsea near the flat where I was staying. When you find an old used book, it would seem to me like a pirate finding a treasure and the contents of the treasure were truly valuable, even if only to you. We split up and began to look for different things. The shelves were tall and the store had a yellow border that wrapped around the inside perimeter. Books were in almost every corner, like a buffet waiting to be devoured by famished brethren.

What he was looking for I did not ask about and vice versa. I didn’t know where to start, so I began in the back of the store and worked my way to the front. Going aisle by aisle browsing for anything that caught my fancy, I was in a reader’s heaven. He was the opposite and worked from the front of the store to the rear. I found a small stash of Edgar Allen Poe and decided to buy a book of his short stories. It was in great condition for a hard back and had an interesting dust jacket. I continued my journey through the narrow byways of the store searching for a jewel in the rough.

I found a jewel in the rough; he was standing in the same aisle as me. Tall, blonde, fair skin and sexy as sin, he was like a leading man from a novel too good to be true. I could picture him riding horse-back in an Austen novel through a field on a cloudy day to find his true love; with the wind in his hair and the determination to get to her at any cost set in his face. He looked over at me and smiled. I smiled and looked away. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, watching me, waiting for his moment. Would I allow him a moment? I looked back toward him and he mouthed hello. I gave him a short friendly wave with my hand and went back to my book. I wondered what book he was combing through. Should I take a chance and go to him? No, I could never do that. He looked my way again and I figured I would go for it. With all of my courage I looked him in the eyes, put a kiss in my hand and blew it to him. He caught it and then did the most unthinkable thing he could ever do, he put it on his crotch. He then gave me a sly, devious smile. I rolled my eyes and looked away in complete disgust. It was funny and I hated to admit it. Smiling at him with slight disdain, he casually walked over to me. No matter how distasteful his joke had been or not, he was inexplicably handsome in his caramel colored suede jacket and dark blue jeans.

“You had to ruin it didn’t you?” I told him with disappointment in a low voice.

“I just wanted to make you laugh, that’s all. Hey you have to admit it was funny.” He was grinning from ear to ear.

“Alright it was a bit funny and you may wish that, however I will have nothing to do with that area of your body.”

“I can dream can’t I?” He laughed lowly as not to disturb the others in the store.

“Yeah one of your better dreams…” I wasn’t finished looking at books. So I looked back to the shelf I was before.

“So you don’t do everything, do you?” He was questioning me, continuing his game.

“I believe that my sexual prowess is none of your concern.” I continued on.

“You’re a hard one to figure out.”

“Me? You’re the one making vulgar gestures in a bookstore.”

“I’m not giving up on you, no matter how difficult and prissy you are.”

“Congratulations, you’re figuring me out.” I put my arm in his, “And you like me to be difficult and prissy.”

“See, there you go, you win me over again. I do like difficult and prissy. Although I didn’t know I did until today.”

“So, what book did you find?” I asked him about his selection.

“I found an old copy of a song book, words and music from the Doors.”

“Oh, I love the Doors. I had such a crush on Jim Morrison….I would look at the album cover of his single face, while my mother played it on our turn table, a 78.” I wistfully looked at him as I remembered back. “May I look at it?”

“Here” He handed me his book and took mine to browse through. “You like Poe?”

“No, I love Poe. His dark, brooding energy, it gives me chills. I have several different compilations of his, nothing like this one though. It will be perfect for my collection.”

“He is quite interesting, I like him as well.”

“This is a really good find.” I gave him the book back. I continued to look through the art section. I found three others I decided to take. There were mainly picture books of Helen Frankenthaler, Gustav Klimt and Andy Warhol.

“So you collect picture books too?”

“Yes, I started when I first entered college and haven’t stopped since. I started collecting them of Georgia O’Keefe, since she was my inspiration to try painting. The more I really started to study art, not just as an artist but as an appreciator, then I began to collect many other artists. I will always collect my favorites first, but now if I find a good book of any artist that I feel remotely has an impact on art, and then I will add them to the collection. My goal is to have a library of picture and biographies of artists in my studio. I would like my children, if I have any, which I doubt, to be able to go to my studio and pick up a book and find out what they need to. A visual art history if you will.” He was not surprised by this; he seemed to understand me more than anyone on this. What my desire was and how I was fulfilling it.

“I think your ‘children’ will be inspired by your commitment to their art education. I know I try to do the same with mine as well. Art is a natural reflection of life. Some of its good, some not, but the beauty of it all is that it is a part of all cultures in any time throughout history. There’s nothing more pure and contrived hosted in one thing out there. Well, maybe music, we aren’t talking about that though.”

“No not today, but we can sometime.”

“It’s good to know you were listening and not just imagining me naked. I know that is very difficult for you not too, but please, I have my dignity.” He stood next to me and I rolled my eyes at him.

“Oh my God, I’m going to vomit.” I put my hand over my mouth and made a gagging sound. He smiled at me and then I said, “I would have thrown up had I’d of had anything in my stomach.”

“So you are saying you are hungry?”

“No. I’m not hungry, why would I be hungry? I mean I haven’t eaten anything all day come to think of it. We should go eat. Are you hungry, too?” I asked him.

“Yeah, come on. Are you finished looking around? I am. We have been here for a couple of hours. They would probably be glad to get rid of us.” I followed him to the counter. “Ladies first”

“Thank you.”

“Hello and how are you this evening?” The clerk asked me. He was a younger man, in his early twenties.

“I’m doing very well, thank you.”

“Was there anything in particular you were looking for?”

“No, not really, mostly just browsing and whatever looked appealing, well then you just take, right?”

“Yeah that is the way to browse, have an open mind. Art enthusiast?” He asked me.

“Yes, all my life I’m afraid.” I smiled at him and he returned the smile.

“You know she is an artist herself. She even has a show going on. You should check it out. Here is the card for the gallery.” He gave the clerk a card from the gallery. When did he confiscate that?

“I will; thank you.” The clerk smiled at me and then at him.  

“Oh, here put them all together.” My friend handed the clerk his book.

“No they are separate purchases. Thank you though for offering.” I smiled at him and handed him the book back.  

“Wait I owe you some books, remember.” He put the book back on the counter and the clerk took it swiftly and rang it up before I could try to take it from him.

“That’s right you do owe me some books, however these will not make up for the others.” I slightly scowled and as the clerk laughed.

“I think I owe you much more than the books.” He said and the clerk looked down and began to put our books in a bag. He gave the clerk his credit card and we waited for the transaction to finish. The young man gave him the receipt, the bag of books and thanked us.

We left the bookstore in search of something to eat. I really was famished. I was starting to get light headed.

“You know the restaurant is a bit far from here, so I’ll get a cab. We have done quite a bit of walking today.” He hailed the cab for us and as usual I was the first one in. He told the driver the address and we were off.

 Tags @nightcrawler0213 @dracris33 @xmarveled @michelehansel @melodramaticfanatic

[grandthorkiday]

Mob AU “Playthings” Part 19

[Link to mob!au anon’s “Playthings" fic tag]

[Start at Part 1]*

(*Note: Link is editable for other parts, just change the number. For mobile users, tag is “playthings part1”)

~2011~

Ashley was a sweet girl, if a tad annoying. She had a laugh that was a little too high and made her sound like she was going down a bumpy road. She wore too much jewelry, make up, and perfume, and when she talked in her thick Jersey accent she had tendency to smack her lips and talk with exaggerated gestures. But Mario didn’t keep her around for her conversational skills, as he was fond of saying when he smacked her large bottom as she walked by. Of the frequent hanger ons who came and went from the penthouse, she was Thor’s favorite.

“I brought yah something!” She called as he returned from working out in the hotel gym.

“You really didn’t have to,” he said, but was still excited to see what it was. He looked around. “Where’s Loki?”

“Oh he went with Gast somewhere. Focus!” She snapped her fingers and her rings clanged together. She tossed her overly large purse on the table and pulled out two large books. “Told yah my cousin went to college for this crap. Never finished, and tell him, Jay if you don’t finish sell yah books. Nah, Ash, I’m gonna finish. My ass he’s going to finish. He’s making enough doing the rackets. But here, you take ‘em!”

Thor took the books like they were precious treasure. ‘Medieval European History: An Introduction’ and 'The Viking and Their Legacy on the Early Modern World’ were heavy volumes. But there was art within the pages and most of all, it had nothing to with his current circumstances. He opened the page of one of the books to a picture of a war hammer and spear being laid out on a table by an anthropologist, showing the ceremonial markings and and decoration on both.

“This has some examples of actual art, right?” he asked, feeling a twinge of guilt at being so greedy with his desire.

Ashley didn’t seen to care. “'Course it does! You know, you can go to a bookstore and get a book on that! You already go and get your art stuff there.”

“I-I don’t want to ask,” he said, placing the book down. Asking was not the right word. Gast would want him to beg, for every cent and dollar. To leave the penthouse and get a book from the chain store two blocks away. He would have to debase himself. He already did that for art supplies, he didn’t think he could do it for a book. Maybe, if he was good, he could simply ask for a few books. If he was really good, Grandmaster would just shower him with whatever he asked for. He had to be good.

[read more cut]

“You draw anything new?”

He blinked a few times before answering. “Oh, uh, yeah. One moment.” He never left his sketchbook too far away from him. The penthouse crew had a 'habit’ of going through it and doodling over some of his sketches if he left it out of field of vision. Sometimes, Gast would have them punished if he caught them. Sometimes he would ask for a pen and make his own drawings. Thor really didn’t want to risk it.

He handed the sketchbook to Ashley who greedily snapped it up and opened it. She squealed in delight. “These are amazing!! Seriously, this hand and flower! I would totally get this done! Well, if Max let me get a new tattoo. But,” she turned the page and sighed, “oh this is just fucking gorgeous. You drew a cat and it looks so cute I wanna eat it up!”

“It’s Paul’s cat.”

“I know! And you should show him! He loves that thing. You never considered going into making tattoo art?”

Thor shook his head, trying not to laugh. Before he and Loki were kidnapped, he was an Econ major, desperately wanting to change his major to Medieval History. His Father would never expect anything less than him, though. Sketching and drawing was a hobby done behind closed doors, never encouraged except by his brother. He couldn’t even tell his mother that most of his drawings were tattoo inspired.

After they were taken, his education had stopped. Gast had floated the idea of letting them take online courses, but that was snatched away during one of their 'bad’ periods. Drawing became an escape. Grandmaster was his gentlest when he found him drawing and most people in the penthouse wanted a sketch, either for a tattoo or to just keep. Mario even turned one sketch into a shirt that he wore fondly during football season. Thor doubted Gast, however, would see the use or have the desire to put him through the training needed to be an artist.

As though summoned by the mere thought of him, Gast appeared with Mario at his side. Mario had a strange look of barely contained rage. Thor shrank instantly onto himself, gathering his new books closer to him. Suddenly Ashley having his sketchbook felt dangerous and he wanted to reach out and snatch it back. But he didn’t dare do that. That would bring attention to himself, and he wasn’t the one Mario was angry at.

“Hey, Ash!” the thug in question barked out, flexing his muscles as he crossed his arms. “Gotta sec to talk about the 'girl’?” They talked like this, even in the safety of the penthouse, most often. This vague way of speaking about their dealings. There were times, late in the evening and the dead of night when they would be specific. Old superstition someone once explained to him: the dark remains in the dark.

Ashley barely glanced up at him. “What about her?”

“She didn’t make it to the 'drop’. She and her 'merchandise’ are fucking gone.”

“Well she was on her way when I put her and the baby in the cab this morning.”

Mario rolled his neck in irritation and Gast chuckled darkly. “You didn’t go with her?”

The woman frowned and finally passed back the sketchbook who Thor nearly all but hugged when it was returned. “I ain’t going to see a kid sell a baby! I got betta things to do!”

“Like what?!”

“My hair for one!” She flicked her fire red curls over her shoulder. “And my nails! You want me pretty don’t yah baby?”

“I WANNA BE PAID TOO SWEET FUCKING HEART!”

“What you got there, Sparkles?” Gast asked. Naturally, this was directed at Thor and was said conversationally. Like there wasn’t a feeling of apprehension in the air.

Thor nervously showed his new books and sketchbook. Grandmaster waved him over and plucked them from his arms to examine them from his arms. He thumbed through one book before return them with a hum of mild interest. “You like this stuff?”

“Y-yeah,” he waited to see what happened. He ignored Ashley and Mario having a stare off.

“You know, there’s going to be a Medieval exhibit at one of the museums uptown. Forget which ones, but they want me to come by and throw some razzle dazzle on it. Maybe if you’re good, we’ll go.”

“Really?”

“Sure! Hey, sugar,” Gast leaned over and spoke to him like he was speaking to a child, trying to distract him, “how about you go to my bedroom and hang out with Lo Lo. I bet he could use the company.”

Maybe it was the idea that Thor was leaving that finally made it click in Ashley’s mind that she was in trouble. “Hey, he and I were talkin’!”

Thor was slowly already moving to the bedroom, however. There was still a morbid curiosity that made him want to turn back as Ashley called after him and Mario shouted her down. There was a human emotion to turn around and take one last solid look at what had been a friend and occasional ally. But if he looked back, would he still be good? No, it was better to be good and do as Grandmaster suggested.

The bedroom was large with a king sized bed and huge television built into the wall. Loki was laying on the bed in one of Gast’s robes, watching a period piece half-heartedly. He brightened though when Thor entered.

“Hey, how long have you been back?”

“Fifteen minutes. I got caught up talking to….someone.”

There was a sound of two people shouting from out in the living room.

“O-oh.”

“Hey, I got something.” He sat down on the bed and handed the books over to Loki. The younger man took them and began to thumb through them, smiling more with each page that turned. “I already got some ideas for sketches, but the information also looks really interesting.”

“Yeah,” the other replied, having to tear his eyes away from a sub chapter on the order of succession.

Thor took one of the books again and thumbed to the page with the hammer and spear. “I was thinking of sketching these two first. Make it look like heraldry.”

“Heraldry! Already talking like a professor!” Loki giggled.

“I was thinking of designing it as a tattoo…for you.”

The younger man blinked at him, taken aback. “For me? A tattoo? I don’t…”

He uncovered Loki’s left thigh. There were faded pink lines and crosshatches. One still looked red and recent. He reached out and touched the cut before the robe was yanked back into place. “I doubt it hasn’t crossed his mind the reason why you-”

“I don’t want to hear about-”

“I understand. I know. I know. Trust me…I can still feel where he touched me on the back the first time… in the shower….. But this,” he waved a hand to the scars under the robe, “This will not help.”

Loki laughed bitterly, “And a tattoo will?”

“Maybe. Think about it like this…he touches us now. It’s okay now, we’re used to it. We’re good. We…enjoy it now.” Admitting it out loud made him want vomit out every last trace of bile. But his brother was showing understanding and sympathy, so he pressed on. “But that first time. That first time was awful. Wouldn’t be easier to….edit what happened?”

“Edit?”

“He didn’t touch you here, Loki.” He gripped the other’s thigh. Green eyes began to tear up and he realized a little belatedly he had gripped too hard. He hoped the cut hadn’t opened and was bleeding in the Grandmaster’s bed.

“But he di-”

“No. Don’t think like that. Thinking like that makes it harder, doesn’t it? He touched your tattoo.”

“My-”

“Yes, your tattoo. I designed you an amazing tattoo and you have it and that’s what he touched.”

Loki looked at him for a moment with doubt before there was a female scream from the living room. He recoiled, his face looking full of terror. Thor gathered him in his arms and laid them back onto the bed, shushing his noises of distress. He found the remote and switched the television to something else, a random cartoon show. He turned the volume up and rocked the younger gently.

A few hours later, when Grandmaster would return, he would find his boys with the television still on to cartoons. Loki would be asleep using the robe as part blanket part teddy bear and Thor would be drawing the first draft of Loki’s new tattoo.

~2019~

“I know it’s stupid, and I never realized how much he took it to heart, but he was happy when I finally got it done. We saved so much money to get it,” Thor looked nostalgic for a moment.

“What happened to Ashley?” Tony asked, writing down a few things on his notepad.

“Well, once her hair grew back and her fingers healed, I think Mario sent her to one of the brotels. I mean,” he shrugged, “it was either that or she’s fish food.”

It was the casualness of how it was said that haunted Val for days after that.

[icequeen-shiva]

alright, you know what

about two weeks ago maybe by now, i made a post about how i’ve recently hit 200 followers and i’d like to do a q&a again, and even with a reblog from someone more ~*popular*~ than me, and multiple reblogs once a day for a few days by myself, i didn’t get a single fucking question. not one. earlier today i posted two pictures of myself where i felt pretty (i’ve since deleted them) and nobody i actually know of liked it and i got asked by a stranger who doesn’t even follow me if i had any nsfw pictures. i don’t get asks anymore, i don’t get shit. and that tells me that, you may be following me, but you aren’t connecting with me. and i feel that. i get on tumblr and i don’t feel like i’m friends with fucking anybody. and i did that. i know i did that. 9/10 times i let my fear of rejection and embarrassing myself overcome my desire to talk to people, so i don’t do it, or i let it fizzle out and we go our own ways and we don’t become friends. 1/10 times i actually function as a human being and make a connection or at least something that sticks a little.

so here, below the cut, is a comprehensive (loosely) list of things that i like, in no particular order at all, besides tickling, because apparently both sides of this need a little help connecting on any front.

scooby-doo

beetlejuice

the addams family

the sims

the mcu

classic disney animations; my favorites are dumbo, the great mouse detective, the rescuers, sleeping beauty, and oliver and company (it’s old enough that i consider it in the classic category)

~modern disney animations too; my favorites are treasure fucking planet, coco, and... i’m a sap, beauty and the beast. rise of the guardians too even though it isn’t disney.

musicals; i can’t pick a favorite just fucking ask me, but i don’t know a lot of newer ones honestly

empire records

the greatest showman still

cats (i mean the animals but i also like the show even though it is Weird As Hell)

my cat in particular

alice in wonderland

stranger things

space jam

tsum tsums

elvira, mistress of the dark

dice

kiki’s delivery service and specifically jiji things

winnie the pooh i don’t even fucking care i LOVE HIM AND ALL OF HIS FRIENDS

silly hats

playdoh

interesting earrings

exploring libraries or big bookstores

true crime mysteries; my favorite youtuber for this is georgia marie, bless her. i also watch bella fiori and kendall rae

fictional mysteries too

i have a kind of fascination with jack the ripper and with the lizzie borden case

shipwrecks! i don’t know why but shipwrecks fascinate me! why did they go down? all the stories that went with them!

i once read a novel that was told as a series of letters, or journal entries, by people on the titanic, including the iceberg and it was THE absolute saddest book i have ever read in my life. like, obviously i knew what was coming, but i got attached to the characters, the letters made them alive and it was just like... NO. NO I DON’T WANT THEM TO DIE. I KNOW THEY’RE GOING TO BUT THEY CAN’T. and it was awful. i had to put it down and cry.

cryptozoology

the bermuda triangle theories (i’m not saying i believe sOmEtHiNg’S gOiNg On but i think some of the theories are interesting)

ghosts

the nancy drew computer games

monopoly

i still play a lot of my snes games; my go-to time killer and head-clearer honestly is kirby’s avalanche. i also play a lot of super mario rpg legend of the seven stars, super mario world, kirby’s dreamland 3, and donkey kong 2 and 3

final fantasy x in which i’m guaranteed to call almost (i can’t stress that enough) every character at some point “my child”

hyrule warriors, i know it’s not a tRuE zelda game but it’s fucking fun

same with fire emblem warriors

red dead redemption

kingdom hearts

the uncharted series

splatoon but i don’t have it wahhhhh

mind you i am not very Good at videogames, i just like to play them anyway

game grumps

ninja sex party

jacksepticeye

markiplier

monty python

crocheting

tea

harry potter

classic rock. pretty big on queen lately. i like tom petty and the heartbreakers. i like joan jett and the blackhearts.

i just... like rock. across the board. i like the offspring. i like some rage against the machine songs. acdc on the radio makes me happy. def leppard on the radio makes me happy. beartooth, starset, powerman 5000, as long as it’s got a good beat and good stuff going on behind the vocals then i’m gonna be happy. i’m way more into the guitars and the bass and everything going on instrumentally than i am vocally, honestly. the whole big guitar solo to van halen’s “you really got me” and then that bassline that comes in, that bassline is sexy. it’s so simple but i LIKE it.

anyway music as a whole gets me right in the heart and can lift me up when i am at my literal worst point

it’s hard for me to name a favorite or specific bands that i like because there’s so many and i’m not really picky about it. 

pop vinyls

good ol’ vines

buffalo wings

mac and cheese

grilled cheese

dr. pepper

i drink a l o t of dr. pepper

pretending i know how to do makeup well

history; i watch a lot of expedition unknown and mysteries at the museum, and sometimes i’ll watch a free documentary on youtube if it catches my attention. last weekend i explained the donner party to my boyfriend. just.. on a whim. because i’d just watched a thing on it and he said he didn’t really know what it was. i’m that person.

OH I SHOULD HAVE MENTIONED THIS BACK AROUND TRUE CRIME BUT I READ A BOOK ABOUT H.H. HOLMES AND HIS MURDER CASTLE AND THE CHICAGO WORLD’S FAIR. it was by erik larson, i believe. larsen? i could google this. devil in the white city. there’s been talks to make it a movie. it’s a good read though i will admit i skipped a lot of the fair parts because i was there for the murder.

i also read a book about the lusitania by the same author and i was like ohhh my goooood what. it got a little boring sometimes, i had to push myself to keep going, but i would read dead wake again.

csi: miami reruns are the greatest thing don’t @ me

dark purple and black aesthetics

just like... witchy aesthetics. those colors and black cats

if you haven’t noticed by any selfies i’ve posted, i do have my lip pierced and i love finding new lip jewelry. i have a new opal stud in and i love its look

leather jackets

combat boots; i have a galaxy print pair and a pair with classic marvel comics stuff printed on the inside and you can fold down the sides to show it. they’re my faves.

owls

drunk history

the first 5 seasons of supernatural and i still have a soft spot for the winchesters and castiel

i’m slowly making my way through watching the librarians

i’m also making my way slowly through watching the magicians

(american) football

nature walks

going to the zoo

going to the aquarium

like really take me to either of the above and i will lose my shit

road trips

savannah, georgia

the smokey mountains

last august i drove by myself from ohio to boone, north carolina for a friend’s wedding and that wedding was smack on a mountain top and it was the coolest thing i think i’ve ever done

roller coasters BUT NOT EXTREME ONES baby steps ok

log rides tho, i don’t know why, i always love the water rides

ren faires!

cosplay, even though i’m not exactly active in it myself (but i want to be; one of my offline friends is an actually-getting-kind-of-internet-famous mei from overwatch cosplayer)

cards against humanity

foosball

pool but i suck at it

speaking of pools i love swimming ... but i suck at it, i just like boppin’ along in a pool

cookouts

summer

there is nothing like being out in the middle of nowhere in summer when the evening starts to fall and the sky is dark, dark blue and there’s a sea of shimmering lightning bugs out over a field. it’s beautiful. it’s peaceful.

there’s nothing like sitting outside on a calm spring night and listening to the spring peepers (they’re frogs) either.

if you couldn’t tell, i live in the middle of nowhere. i have to find enjoyment in the little things.

campfires

dancing around said campfire, you cannot have a campfire without good music. this is when a lot of my classic rock education came to pass.

elephants

my favorite books are the abhorsen trilogy by garth nix, tied with the serpent’s shadow by mercedes lackey

i am trying to get into comic books by way of the youtube channel comicstorian. they break comic books down for you and read them aloud with the images, altered slightly to avoid copyright strikes (and that’s all made very clear, it’s not done sketchily), and it’s been really easy for someone like me who doesn’t just have a comics store close (and i would otherwise continue on as i have been, forgetting to ever look for them on the internet). i listened to injustice 1 and 2, and they covered the game. i’m actively following scooby apocalypse, and there was some teen titans stuff i went all the way through up until now. i don’t think it’s finished yet from what i remember.

i love museums

candles

i actually kind of collect tea sets

i also have a collection of sand art bottles AND IF I’M EVER AT A FESTIVAL OR A FAIR WHERE THERE IS A SAND ART STAND YOU CAN BET I AM GOING TO MAKE ONE

yugioh duels; i’m definitely just a novice and it’s just a fun pastime my friends got me into when they found their giant binders of cards again

i’m not actually that big on pokemon, i don’t know a lot of them but it’s still fun and i know some. but i did love pokemon go when my friends still played it (don’t really have time anymore, and it kept crashing way too badly on one of their phones anymore anytime they tried to join a raid and it just wasn’t fun as a group then)

i don’t have any but i like the ~look of crystals and would like to have some, not for my own aesthetic but i just... like having pretty things!

listening to the rain

how the air smells (at least where i live) after a long rain and everything is just cleansed

depression has stopped me from writing for a long time but, in my heart, writing has always been something that has touched me ever since i knew how to do it and could put my stories down on paper instead of having to just talk about them... so i’m going to include that here

root beer floats

hotdogs

hard dip ice cream (if you don’t know what hard dip means... as my boyfriend didn’t... it means ice cream that you have to use a scoop with, not soft serve)

soft serve’s good too tho don’t get me wrong

strawberry milkshakes

this isn’t even stuff that anyone would need to know on this site to befriend me at this point, nobody’s gonna message me like HEY I READ YOU LIKE STRAWBERRY MILKSHAKES ME FUCKING TOO

you’re cool if you do that lmao

so bad they’re good creature features from the 50s and 60s

the old godzilla movies

i like the moon more than the stars, but i like them too

flower crowns

bouncy balls

original skittles

this has gone on way too long, nobody is reading this, your mom’s a hoe, goodnight

no she’s not, i’m sorry, if you got this far then i hope your mom is a nice person

[modernistestates]

Modernist Estates’ Christmas Gift Guide

It’s nearly that time of year where I start to feel melancholy again. December is my least favourite month, but I’m going to try and reprogram my brain this year and enjoy it. Here to try and get me in the festive mood I’ve put together a Christmas Gift Guide. Actually, I don’t much like presents, unless its consumable or degradable in some way my natural reaction (years of living in a studio flat I guess) to a gift is ‘where the hell am I going to put it’. Anyway, I hope you are less humbug than me, here’s a list of things even I wouldn’t say no to.

Nathalie Du Pasquier  Silkscreen print on Colorplan Trapezio, 2017  £400 I saw this print in Camden Arts Centre last year during her solo show Other Rooms. It’s an edition of 50 and think they only have a few left. I want one.

Available from Camden Arts Centre.

Egg Coddler designed by Wilhelm Wagenfeld From £10 (different sizes available) Designed by Jenaer Glas as a design classic in the Bauhaus style in 1933. The kitchen helper is versatile and suitable not only for preparing eggs in a glass, it is also suitable for making pies, soufflés, desserts and amuse gueule. The Eierkoch is considered a prototype of the modern glass design and wrote as such a design history. Within the scope of Edition Wagenfeld brings Jenaer glass the classic from the museum back on the market. The handmade egg cooker made of heat-resistant glass is characterised by its distinctive shape and fascinate lovers of classic design with its look and functionality until today.

Available from Connox.

TC 100 Tableware Credit to friend Ruth Lang for pointing me in the direction of the classic TC 100 Ulm designed crockery. She spotted the perfectly stacked tableware in Michael and Patty Hopkins’ house in Hampstead. Well if it’s good enough for them…

TC 100 was designed by Hans (Nick) Roericht in 1959 for his thesis project at the HfG school of design in Ulm, Germany. It went immediately into the permanent collection (as well as the cafeteria) of the MoMA in New York. TC 100 was produced from 1962 until 2006 by Thomas/Rosenthal. 

Buy it direct from here. 

The Barbican Estate Stefi Orazi (Published by Batsford) £40 Give me a break, as if I’m not going to include this. I spent the whole of last Christmas drawing up those plans, the least you can do is spend this Christmas looking at them. 

Available from bookstores nationwide (support your local bookshop!) Or from my online shop thingsyoucanbuy.co.uk — enter BARB15 and receive 15% discount. 

Runcorn Photobook £7 I posted a picture of the Southgate Estate on my Instagram the other day. An extraordinary scheme designed by James Stirling in the late 70s which was demolished in 1990. That’s 13 years it was standing for. Bonkers. Google pictures and I promise you’ll think ‘that’s a film set, surely’. Anyway, The Modernist quickly replied ‘We liked it so much we did a photo book on it’. 

Buy it (as well as other in the series) here. 

John Booth x Uncommon Projects Stool £240 Friends Uncommon Projects are soon to release a range of off-the-shelf furniture and objects (keep an eye on uncommonprojects.co.uk). They’ve recently teamed up with artist John Booth and Studio Voltaire to produce these beautiful limited edition stools. Constructed from maple-veneered birch plywood and finished with a water based lacquer and a powder coated steel Y frame. 

Available in six different designs from House of Voltaire. 

Max Bill Watch  By Junghans From £395 I’ve recently re-discovered the watch. No more getting my phone out checking the time and ending up in a cycle of checking emails and social media, putting it back in your pocket and realising you didn’t even check the time. Long live the wristwatch! And what better way to wear your modernist credentials than on your wrist with this classic by Bauhaus architect and designer Max Bill. 

Various models available from John Lewis (John Lewis!)

365 Journal £42 Just lovely! A hefty chunk of white paper, each page simply marked with a black number. The cover is bound with a removable plastic protector, which also features a front pocket. This book measures 160x230mm, with 368 pages. Flat lay binding. Designed by Marjolein Delhaas. 

Available from Present and Correct. 

[aupairadventures]

Nantes: My favorite places in my favorite city

Yesterday, I spent the day with my friend Laura, an au pair from Colombia that I met in my French class. Since Laura only arrived in Nantes several weeks ago, we decided that it would be a good idea for me to take her on a little tour of this incredible city. As the two of us were walking around on an unseasonably warm and sunny February day, I was reminded of why I find this city so beautiful and why it’s so special to me.

I loved seeing the look of awe on Laura’s face as we explored all of Nantes’ wonders, and it reminded me so much of what it was like to set foot in this city for the first time. When I first moved here, this city absolutely terrified me. I, a girl from a small town in Massachusetts, initially felt uneasy around all the hustle and bustle. The whirling and crowded city felt so alien and foreign to me, and at first, I feared that I would never adjust. However,  I could not have been more wrong. After some initial hesitation, I fell in the love with Nantes; and when I fell, I fell hard and fast. This city has taught me so much about the beauty of embracing your fears and welcoming the unknown into your life.

I may not be a born-Nantaise, but within the past few months, this city has become my home. Before I found my host family last April, I had never even heard of this place. Now, several months later, I can’t imagine my life without it. Since I moved here, this city has come to mean so much to me and had become very dear to my heart. Perhaps it’s because of the city’s stunning architecture or rich culture and history. Perhaps it’s because of its bustling, vibrant nature or its abundance of places to explore and things to do. Maybe it’s because last year, this city welcomed me with open arms and made me feel a sense of belonging, even though I was thousands of miles away from everything I had ever known. It might be because this city has been the setting of many of my firsts, and has been the backdrop to so many new experiences and adventures. Perhaps it’s because I have found a family here and have created strong friendships that I know will last a lifetime. Maybe it’s because my friends and I have made memories in every corner of this city, or because I can’t look at a single thing in this place without being reminded of happy memories and feeling a wave of bittersweet nostalgia. It breaks my heart to know that I will have to leave this city one day, but I am comforted by the knowledge that I will certainly be back to Nantes to visit many times in the coming years. Who knows, maybe this city is where I’ll raise my children one day; I love the sound of that.

As you can see, Nantes is without a doubt one of my favorite cities. Of course, I know that I’m quite biased on this, but there are so many reasons to love this place. I highly recommend this destination to any and all travelers; I bet that you’ll come to love this city just as much as I do.

Still not convinced? Let me tell you about my favorite places in Nantes, and I’m sure that by the time you finish reading this, you’ll be on Skyscanner booking a flight.

1) Le Château des Ducs de Bretagne

How incredible is it that I walk by an actual castle every day on my way to French class? This castle is a must-see for any travelers visiting Nantes. You can walk around the courtyard on the inside, have a picnic on the grass on a sunny day, walk around the wall of the castle and be rewarded with a beautiful view, or even go down the slide attached to the side of the structure! Just across the tram tracks lies The Water Mirror. During the summer, lots of people love coming here to splash in the fountain or sunbath on the nearby grass. But, when the water is completely still, you can see a beautiful reflection of the castle in it. Within the castle, there are two museums: Le Musée d’Histoire Urbaine and another museum for temporary expositions. Several weeks ago, some friends and I went to an exposition called “Cimarron,” which was a colorful, beautiful, and moving contemporary photography exhibit.

2.) Le Musée des Beaux Arts

If you love art or just enjoy museums, be sure to check at Le Musée des Beaux-Arts. The best part? On the first Sunday of each month, the majority of museums in Nantes are totally free of charge!

3.) La Cathédrale Saint-Pierre-et-Saint-Paul de Nantes

The architecture of this cathedral is nothing short of stunning! This was one of the first places in Nantes that I visited with my host family when I arrived, and it was also the place that my friend Ellie and I used as our meeting spot the first time that we met up, so the thought of the cathedral and the memories I’ve made there always brings a smile to my face.

4) Le Jardin des Plantes

Le Jardin des Plantes is easily my absolute favorite place in Nantes. I could write pages about why I love it so much. This beautiful botanical garden, which is open to the public free of charge, is complete with a playground, walking trails, a cafe, greenhouses, flower and herb gardens, lots of trees, fountains, sculptures, lots of birds, a merry-go-round, and even a goat petting zoo. The garden is absolutely gorgeous; filled with brightly colored blossoms and greenery everywhere, it’s like a little slice of paradise. When the weather is nice, it’s my favorite place to go for a walk, have a picnic with friends, grab a pain au chocolat at the nearby boulangerie and sit in the sunshine, or find a shady bench to read or journal. Au Pair Super Tip: This is the perfect place to take your host kids! They’ll love the playground, the merry go round, and the petting zoo, and walking around here is a great way for the kids to play outside and get some exercise.

5) Shopping

Nantes is the perfect city for those who love to shop. There’s an abundance of chic fashion stores, vintage shops, and adorable boutiques. When visiting Nantes, be sure to check out Le Passage Pommeraye, a beautiful shopping center built in the 1800s.

6) Restaurants:

In Nantes, there’s certainly no shortage of great cafes and restaurants. Looking for a delicious croissant, baguette, or macaron? You can find all that and more in one of the many different boulangeries or patisseries. On the search for a crêpe or a galette? In any city in the Brittany region, you’re sure to find tons of creperies. Want to grab coffee with a friend and spend hours chatting in a cute café? Try Le Select, a great cafe with a vintage vibe, or La Maison d’Elise, a cat cafe. Yes, a cafe that doubles as a cat shelter! (How adorable.) Even if your searching for healthy, vegan food, Nantes has you covered! In fact, two of my favorite places in Nantes or the TreeHouse, a vegan café/grocery store, and Totem, an incredible vegan restaurant with the most amazing vegan desserts I’ve ever had.

7)  Le Jardin Japonais

If you’re looking to find some more nature when in the city, look no further than Le Jardin Japonais (The Japanese Garden) located on L’ile de Versailles. Filled with red maple trees, walking paths, streams, bamboo plants, and even rocky waterfalls, this little garden is another great place to spend a sunny, Autumn day.

8) Architecture:

I have to say, I love the architecture in the Bretagne area, especially here in Nantes. Whenever I’m walking around the city, I can’t help but look up to stare at the buildings around me. I mean, just look at how pretty these buildings are! Whether it be in Nantes, Paris, or Toulouse, my favorite part of French architecture are the balconies that adorn the historic buildings.

9) Les Machines de l'île

“The Machines of the Isle of Nantes” is an artistic exposition located in the former shipyards of Nantes. Several artists created many different gigantic, robotic animals. The most famous of these robotic works of art is the Elephant, a 12-meter high creation that passengers can climb aboard and be taken on a 45 ride around the area. Just watch out: The Elephant will spray water from its trunk when you least expect it! (Take it from my host kid; who got absolutely drenched the last time we visited.)

10) Le Lieu Unique

One of the coolest places in Nantes is the Lieu Unique. While the building actually used to be a factory for the French biscuit brand LU, it now serves as a location for a vibrant cultural center with an abundance of things to do. Visitors can eat in the cafe or restaurant, shop in the bookstore, grab a drink in the bar, get a massage or relax in the sauna in the spa, see a contemporary art exposition, or go to one of many different performances, concerts or live music events.

11) Le Tour Bretagne

   One of my absolute favorite places in Nantes is the Tour Bretagne. While it may just look like a skyscraper filled with administrative offices from the outside, this tower has a secret: For one euro, you can ride the elevator to the top floor (over 30 stories high!). There, you’ll find a funky, bird-themed bar called “Le Nid” (“The Nest”), which is one of my favorite places to go out with friends. After getting a drink and hanging out in one of their egg-shaped chairs, you can go out on the balcony and see the most incredible view of Nantes. Whether you see it during the day, as the sun is setting, or late at night, this view is always sure to stun. From the top of this tower, you can see the entire city from a bird’s eye view, which makes all the buildings (Even the cathedral!) look tiny enough to be doll furniture. I love spending time on the balcony and looking out over this city, as it reminds me about why this beautiful city is so special to me, the countless memories I have made here, and why love Nantes so fiercely.

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a returning citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                                       Park Aryeh, who is also known as Leo;                                                        a 22 year old son of Brigit.                                    He is a writer and dance instructor at Zero to Hero.

FC NAME/GROUP: Park Jimin/BTS CHARACTER NAME: Park Aryeh/Leo AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 22/October 13, 1995 PLACE OF BIRTH: Busan, South Korea OCCUPATION: Published Author, Poetry Blogger, Dance Instructor at Zero to Hero (Leo) HEIGHT: 5’9 WEIGHT: N/A DEFINING FEATURES: Fingers often covered in paper cuts and/or scorch marks, almost never seen without a notebook or journal and a pen, always has his laptop on hand, pastel pink hair

PERSONALITY: ARYEH Some people jokingly refer to others as afraid of everything. Aryeh literally is. His fears are broad, ranging from fire to abandonment to social interaction to the dark. He finds it difficult to make friends and spends much of his life alone. It doesn’t usually bother him; he’s more or less gotten used to it. Even when he makes close friends, he doesn’t often speak his mind. Preferring not to cause any kind of conflict, he mostly sticks to what others want to hear if he has to speak at all. Only those extremely close to him will get to hear his true unfiltered thoughts. This often makes him extremely persuasive, when he is willing to draw on his wordsmithing abilities. However, he generally chooses not to; what would be persuade someone to do, anyway?

Since his run-in with some overzealous fans, Aryeh has become even more shy and withdrawn. He holds interactions with other humans to be the scariest thing, the thing that causes him most anxiety. He more often communicates silently when he is able to, or simply speaks in few words when he must. Having a complete or extensive conversation with Aryeh is almost unheard of, and wherever he goes, he does so with as little face to face communication or conversation as possible. It is possible to have an entire interaction without hearing a single word from this shy demigod.

LEO Leo is everything that Aryeh is not. His hair is black (a high-quality wig), his clothes are stylish, his posture is good, his mannerisms are charming, and his eyes are lined in thick black eyeliner. He unabashedly loves to dance, and he is willing to dance just about anything. He’s fun, he’s flirty, he’s willing to try almost anything once. When someone needs help, Leo jumps in to help however he can. He fears nearly nothing and he’s never afraid to act or speak. This persona draws on his wordsmithing powers to become persuasive and charismatic when he wants to be.

HISTORY: Once upon a time, an average man charmed a goddess. He met her in a library and commented on the book of poetry she was reading. The two became fast friends, and then fast lovers, and then the woman disappeared. The man thought nothing of the short affair, that was what college was for after all, was it not? But then nine months later a baby appeared at the door of his dorm, bearing a note containing a love poem and signed Love, Brigit. The man knew right away it was the woman he had met all those months ago. But to suddenly have a baby, and in school nonetheless? It was all he could due to take care of both, though he somehow managed it.

Flash forward through his childhood, and the boy called Aryeh turned out to be the most cowardly of lions. Try as he might, his father could find no cure for his son’s anxieties and fears. His son was merely afraid of everything. The boy had very few friends, and most of the ones he did were fellow artistic souls. Aryeh’s one outlet was his poetry, but there were times when the poetry was an outlet for something bigger and darker, and the boy often burned that poetry. It was too strange, too dark, too morbid for him. The older he got, the more often Aryeh ended up keeping the pages scratchy handwriting that came from the painful fits of torment. Most of the time, when he wasn’t afraid, he was happy enough.

Flash forward again, and the boy was now in university himself. He was studying to become a nurse, and maybe one day a doctor. Maybe he will open his own clinic, or publish books of poetry, or own a bookstore or- but his dreams were cut short when he receives news one day. His father had died in a car crash. The ever present poetic muse cried Murder! Foul Play!, but there was nothing to prove that any of it was true. Cars were now on Aryeh’s list of fears, and he could no longer afford to go to school while working to support himself. While going through his father’s belongings, Aryeh found a single love letter, written from a woman named Brigit to his father. It mentioned a place known as Mount Phoenix, saying it would be a safe place for their child should he ever need it. And so to that island he went.

Fast forward once more, and Aryeh has left that island he once called home. University life wasn’t suiting him and he had more than enough poetry to fill books upon books. It called to him much more than medicine ever really had. And so he had bound up several of his poems, taken the work to a publishing company, and not so long after that his book of poetry was published. The book took off, becoming somewhat well-known. The small following it had gathered clamored for more. Aryeh’s poetry blog exploded, leaving him with more fans and messages than he had ever known what to do with. The boy lived in fear of ever meeting an obsessed fan, though he knew his paranoia to be unfounded; after all, he didn’t have any fans like that just yet. Nobody thought that highly of his work. Except then a few people started to. His first and only encounter with a few obsessed fans left Aryeh wishing for a safe haven, and the boy returned to his old home at Mount Phoenix and opened a bookstore, seeking peace and stability. Perhaps here he would be left alone.

Before long, Aryeh’s quiet and peaceful (and lonely) life began to dissatisfy him. He was a published author with a popular blog, he had opened his own bookstore, he had hobbies and passions, and yet holding a simple conversation with a stranger could overcome him? His myriad fears were still keeping him from doing things he loved? Why? So the boy left the island once more, though this this time with a much bigger purpose in mind: To become the person he had always wanted to be. So he took up residence somewhere he had never been and adopted an alter ego, one he called Leo, and kept up the persona until it finally satisfied him. Even if Aryeh couldn’t do things because he was afraid, Leo was never afraid of anything. He spoke his mind, he pursued things that interested him, he even flirted with strangers. The brilliant shell became popular in his new home, though the boy inside was still as full of fear as ever. At least now he could try out the popular catch phrase.

“Fake it ‘til you make it.”

PANTHEON: Celtic CHILD OF: Brigit POWERS: Despite being filled with fear of his godly inclinations, Aryeh uses his alter ego Leo to practice the martial arts and smithing aspects of his inheritance that he had always feared so much. As it turns out, Aryeh is quite good at martial arts and rarely ever loses a match or fight. He has always delved deep into the poetic and medicinal abilities that are indicative of his mother. His persuasive abilities, when he chooses to use them, are on a higher level than most and make him incredibly charismatic. He is also highly skilled in medicinal arts as he has a vast knowledge of medicine both modern and natural and knows what to do to heal or take your pain away.

STRENGTHS:

Physical Strength ~ Aryeh possesses above average strength and coordination thanks to his mother’s martial arts skills

Wordsmith ~ He is extremely good with his words, though he stumbles over them when speaking to someone new; however, his writing (especially poetry) is beautiful and moving and likely to inspire emotions in its readers

Medicine ~ Aryeh has both talent and education in medicine and physical healing, so he knows just how to set a bone and what medicine to take for most kinds of pain or illness

Alter Ego ~ His alter ego Leo makes the most of Aryeh’s strengths and powers and he isn’t afraid to use them

WEAKNESSES:

Crippling Anxiety ~ Aryeh is afraid of almost everything and has trouble doing anything or talking to anyone he is not familiar with; this is especially relevant to fans who approach him with a little too much excitement

Clumsy ~ because of his anxiety, Aryeh often makes silly mistakes such as tripping over his own feet and stumbling when he’s not focused or stuttering over his words, etc.

Darkness ~ not only does he have a fear of the dark, but Aryeh also is tormented by a poetic muse so powerful and dark that it can send him into bouts of depression; these bouts don’t last long though, especially after Aryeh has gotten the poetry out of himself

Artsy Fartsy ~ paintings, art museums, people who can paint (or other styles of traditional visual arts such as watercolors) are the one thing (other than poetry) that can break him out of his shell; his other love, creating a terrible trifecta with his love of poetry and paintings, is dance. Though he loves all kinds of dance, his favorite is ballroom. He does, of course, appreciate all and every art, but those are his favorites.

[parkerparlour]

Frosting and Dancing - Peter Parker

Summary: Peter knocks on your window late at night, summoning you for a swing around the city and a date.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: None, just fluff!

A/N: Just a fluffy piece that I wanted to get out bc it’s so sweet. Still kinda struggling between if I want to write in 1st person or 2nd person, but I'll figure it out eventually! ;) Honestly, if you have a preference please let me know!

You've been sitting in your bed for a while, scrolling on your phone, unable to fall asleep. There's no particular reason, you’re just not sleepy. You huff when you’ve refreshed your feed five times in a row, dropping your phone to the side in order to free your hands to rub your eyes.

As your fingers are pressing down on your eyes, a sudden rapping noise comes from your window. You jolt up, eyes wide, staring straight at the source of the noise. You sigh in relief once you see the person there - Peter, in his suit without the mask so you can see his face. Standing, you walk over and slide the window open. He starts talking as soon as the window is cracked.

"Hey, Y/N! I was wondering if… you'd.. want to go out tonight?" He looks at your pajamas, realizing that it's a little later than he thought. He had gotten caught up in a crime and it took a while before he could get over to your place.

"I… sure? But I'm not putting on any makeup or doing anything fancy, okay? It's too late." Usually you have standards, but not after midnight.

He grins, "Of course - your natural face is gorgeous, anyway."

You roll your eyes but smile at the compliment. "Smooth, Pete. I'm gonna get dressed, give me a second," you say, stepping back. Peter slides in through the window, closing it behind him. He plants himself on the edge of your bed, waiting patiently.

You rummage around for some clothes before going to the bathroom to change, staying as quiet as possible to avoid waking your parents, who went to bed a couple hours ago. Sliding on a pair of leggings and a tee with an oversized sweater, you feel as ready as you'll get for a time that’s close to midnight. Taking a glance in the mirror, you fix the pillow-mussed-hair you have before leaving and heading back.

Sliding back into your room, Peter eyes your outfit appreciatively. He thinks you look beautiful in anything, even your previous pajamas. His eyes linger on a little patch you’ve ironed onto the sweater, a little Spidey-head right over your heart. He loves it. He stands, gesturing to the window. "Ready?"

You nod and follow him out the window, making sure you have the key to it so you can get back in later. Peter pauses just outside to pull his mask on, then reaching a hand out to you. You take it with a grin and he pulls you close. You already know what this means - a swing through the city. Your hands wind their way around his neck as he picks you up with ease, wrapping your legs tight around his waist. You tuck your chin into the comfortable spot between his neck and shoulder, ready to go.

Peter keeps one hand around you as he takes off, the thick "twhip" sound like music to your ears. Despite it being so late, you'd take a swing with Peter over sleep any day, and tonight you weren’t sleeping anyway. The scenery flies by, and you remember the first time you did this, how sick it made you feel to see the buildings moving so fast. Like a roller coaster with the speed dialed to “not legal” levels. You're used to it now, of course, but it was a little embarrassing when you threw up before. You avoid that particular memory, switching focus.

Your eyes scan all over and try to identify where Peter is taking you, to what rooftop. Just passed the history museum so not there. Not that really cute café either. Eventually you settle to just wait it out, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of Peter holding you close, his warmth radiating from his chest to yours. You press a kiss to his shoulder and feel his smile against your head.

It doesn't take long to get to the destination and Peter comes to a landing, patiently waiting as you unhook from him. Despite getting used to the trips, your legs still feel like jelly every time you land. It's weird going from weightlessness to gravity again.

When you are stable, Peter leads you to a spot where he's set up a blanket and food for a midnight date. You smile at him, "This is so sweet, Peter, thank you."

He looks down shyly, still in the mask. He pulls it off so he can see you face to face, "It's no big deal, I just know today was kinda rough for you and I wanted to do something so it wasn't all bad." You wince at the reminder of how poorly that test went today. Who in their right mind assigns a test on a Friday anyway? You know you got a passing grade, just not the one you were hoping for. You push the test out of your mind, choosing instead to get excited for what is about to come.

Peter gestures to the blanket, bidding you to sit, and you comply. He pulls another blanket out from the shadows and sits down next to you, wrapping it around the two of you. From a plastic bag off to the side, he pulls out food for the both of you, a couple of sandwiches and sodas from his favorite place. He also pulls out a piece of cake, too, which is carefully kept inside a plastic container.

You notice the slice right away. "Cake? What's the occasion?"

"Does there need to be one?" Peter fires back at you.

You shrug, feeling your arms brush together with his as you do, "No, I guess not."

"I mean, cake is cake, and, personally, I think it's a great pick-me-up, y'know?"

You laugh, "It's fine, Peter, I'm not gonna get upset over cake. I'm sure it'll be delicious, since you picked it out."

As you both chow down on sandwiches, you finally get a chance to look at the city around you. The lights are stunning and the view is to-die-for as usual. With a quick glance at the street below, you realize you're on top of your favorite bookstore. Just knowing that that's where you are makes you smile.

As you eat there's a comfortable silence, the two of you just enjoying each other's company. When you reach the cake, Peter lets you take the first bite, only for you to swing the fork in his direction and demand he open. He takes the bite with a chuckle, then doing the same for you afterwards.

It’s indeed delicious, incredibly fresh and soft. It must have been just baked today. There's a hint of fruit among the frosting, sweet and tangy. You wonder what fruit it is exactly, but it's too faint to tell. You pause and the thought of what you're doing makes you laugh.

"What's so funny?" Peter asks, bite still in his mouth and making his cheeks puff up adorably.

"It's just… How did we get here? Not even a couple months ago I had no idea that you were Spider Man and now I'm on a rooftop sharing a piece of cake with my lovely boyfriend, who's a crime fighting hero but also cares about me enough to set this up amid all that. This is so far from the normal I was used to."

"A good difference from normal?" Peter asks, tilting his head in interest.

You press a kiss to his lips, tasting the frosting that was still there, "Yes, a very good difference."

You both quickly finish up the cake, Peter putting all the garbage into the plastic bag that was previously holding it. He leaves the comfort of the blankets to walk over to the edge of the building, holding the bag out and dropping it into the dumpster below with ease.

He comes back over to you, where you make grabby hands at him, wanting his warmth back under the blankets. He laughs, instead grabbing your hands and pulling you up, causing you to gasp. "Wha-?"

"Y/N, may I have this dance?" He asks and you hear that soft music is coming from the spider emblem in his chest, a beautiful slow song. You first wonder how he so sneakily turned the music on. Then you flush hot, suddenly realizing you've never slow danced like this with someone before.

"But, I don't know how?"

Peter pulls you close, "Honestly, I don't either, but it'll still be fun, right?"

"Yeah… yeah!" You say, getting more into it, adjusting your hand positions and resting your head on his shoulder. The dancing is less… dancing, and more swaying and turning in slow, looping circles. But he was right, it's still fun. Incredibly calming too.

After a couple songs, you begin to yawn and Peter rubs your back. "You getting tired? I can take you back home. It's like 1AM now."

You nod against his shoulder and he steps away, rolling his blankets up and tucking them into a corner where he'll come back to get them after dropping you off. You hold your arms out, ready to get back into the usual position, and you do as soon as he steps close enough.

The ride home feels like it goes by even faster than before, but you feel it's probably just because you're so tired. Your grip stays tight even as you nod off a couple times, the motions lulling you to sleep. You wake up as Peter touches down on the balcony outside your window again, squeezing him from the jolt of surprise.

He squeezes back, "Sorry for waking you, but you're home now." 

You nod sleepily and fumble with the key for a bit before Peter takes it gently from your hands, opening it for you. You mumble a thanks after grabbing the key back and slip inside, ready to change back into pajamas. You start piling the clothes you were wearing before, about to go back to the bathroom to change.

Your eyes snap open though and you dart back to the window, which is still open with a waiting Peter there. "Goodnight kisses!" you whisper-shout, pressing your lips against his and he smiles against them before kissing back.

"Goodnight, Y/N. I love you."

"I love you, too. Thank you for this," you say, smiling as you close the window. He draws a heart in the dew on the window before pulling his mask on and flinging off into the night. You grab the previously assembled pile of pajamas and change after pulling the shades together.

That date was just what you needed to feel calm enough to sleep, so you pass out as your head hits the pillow, the taste of frosting still on your tongue and warm love in your heart.

[bolbianddolanhouse]

BNHA self insert AU [Book 2]

Lost and confused? Read this post to catch you up!

Chapter 8: Bitch I Hope the Fuck You Do!

I wish I could tell you that I got the courage to tell the class rep that I don’t like him. But it’s the next day and I’m feeling like pussy ass bitch. So I’m doin’ what I do best....call my mommy.

“Hello? Lili? Can you hear me?”

“I can hear and see you very clearly” I said as the video call got extra crisp in quality “did you update the camera?”

“No, we bought a new television” my mom laughed “your dad and his friends trashed the living room when I was away on Friday. Oh you should have seen them when I came home a day early!”

I laughed but I remembered why I called “Mom, can I ask you something?”

“What is it mija?”

“When you were in high school, how did you figure it out?” I slumped a bit “the whole dating stuff and holding back feelings?”

“Well, first off, I started dating in middle school. The dating culture is different where I grew up than here.” she sighed and put her coffee cup down “there’s a sort of pressure to date and find your partner, especially for girls with telekinesis. These poor girls are cursed with short life spans, but if you find the right person, they live longer lives. I was with somebody before I came over here and I thought they were my one and only, like I was ready to marry him and live my short life with him.” Her smile disappeared “but when I was on my own here, I thought I was going to die early anyways. Then I met your dad, which I saw as somebody that felt the need to be like my parent-friend. I hid my feelings from him because I wasn’t going to ruin my one friendship I had in the hero world” she picked her cup up again “so I dated Hoshi’s dad, had something purely physical with Mr. Tokoyami, casually had a fling with Mr. Monoma, and had a long term relationship with Mr Hitoshi. All before admitting my feelings to your dad in my twenties, it felt different when we started dating. It was like I just took one step up from our friendship, being around him felt natural and I could be myself. My one regret was not telling him sooner, imagine all the heartbreak I could’ve avoided if I just stopped overthinking things.”

“You didn’t know either?” I pondered “then is it okay to not like somebody after one date?”

“Of course it is! That’s why we have dates” Mom chuckled “It gives you a chance to see their personality and behavior to see if you click.”

I take a deep breath “Okay because I went on a date yesterday and-”

Mom spit out her coffee and choke a bit “YOU WHAT?!” her eyes widened and teared up “TENYA! OUR BABY IS GROWING UP!”

Dad ran into frame “What? What happened Lili?!”

“Oh jeez- I just said I went on a date yesterday and-”

My dad gasped and instantly started crying “My little girl is growing up!” he sniffled “I wasn’t one to be brave enough to ask your mom on a date at your age! But here you are, being honest with your feelings.”

“Um, actually, that’s why I called” I explain the disaster that was yesterday “...and I don’t know how to let him down easy.”

“Oh just do what I did, show dominance and tell him that he deserves better” Mom said casually “that way they don’t try to win you over with the next person you’re with.”

“I mean, that is what you did BUT” Dad followed up “just be honest and don’t delay in telling him! The longer you wait, the longer you leave them assuming the wrong thing.”

“Okay! I think I got it” I took mental note of their advice “I’m gonna go now, thanks for answering me! Bye Bye!”

“Bye Bye Lili! We love you!”

I click off the video call feeling better about my situation. And like the anti-social, dense dumbass I am, I didn’t tell him out of cowardliness. I kept him arms distance and smiled at the things he’d show me. 

-2 weeks later-

“What’s for lunch today Lili?” Hoshi asked as everyone scattered to the cafeteria.

“Hot cheetos, cold pizza and an unpeeled apple” I said as I opened my lunch bag “I miss my mommy making my lunches” I slumped on the stone table “at least she’d cut up my fruits.”

“Need someone to cut your fruit?” said the class rep that seemingly pop up out of nowhere “didn’t mean to startle you Iida-san! But I can cut that apple for you if you’d like.”

“Um sure” I said as I handed him the apple “thanks!”

“It’s no problem, anything for you” he blushed as he said that “it’s a free admission day tomorrow at the hero museum, and I was hoping to take you.”

“That sounds cool but um” I look at my open bag of cheetos “I have to meet with support management tomorrow!”

“Huh? You do?” Hoshi questioned as he grabbed a cheeto from me “who you meeting?”

“Yea! I’m meeting with that one student with the hair and the” I make the gesture of big boobs “they said they can prototype the support item I’ve been thinking about.”

“Oh! I didn’t know you were designing a support item” the class rep said as he finished peeling and cutting the apple “maybe next time we can do something, I’ve been wanting to spend some time with you.”

“Yup! Next time!” I flash my smile as he hands me the finished apple “thanks for cutting this for me.”

He turned completely red and flustered “Yeah! Um y-you enjoy your lunch and I’ll see you later!” he turned around and scurried away.

Hoshi was getting suspicious “Lili what the fuck was that?! I thought you didn’t like him?”

“I don’t like him, you right” I said as I munched on an apple slice, Hoshi narrowing his eyes at me “I just, you know, not told him that yet.”

Hoshi put his face in his hands and groaned “Oh my god Lili! Didn’t you talk to your parents about this?”

“I did! And I’m a coward!” I groaned in response “Like, I don’t want him to hate me or think I’m some sort of bratty, rich girl that thinks he isn’t privileged to be around me!” I softly slam my face on my lunch bag “I just think he’s so bland and stereotypically hero-in-training.”

“If you don’t tell him by Sunday, I’m going to make you confront him!” Hoshi slammed his hands on the table “seriously Lili! It’s cruel that you’re leading him on like this.”

I sigh “I know, and I hate myself for being such a coward.”

-After School the same day-

“Hey Iida-san! Can we walk to the dorms together?” the class rep asked excitedly as I was putting on my shoes.

“Ummm-”

“She’d love too!” Hoshi said slapping my back “have fun Lili! See you later!” Hoshi flashed me a look, threatening me to tell what I need to say.

I flash my smile “Well he answered for me!”

“Great! Lets get going!” he said as we walked toward the dorms. He started to talk about one of the books he bought the other day and I wasn’t paying attention, I was too distracted by my thoughts. I felt the warmth on his hand holding mine, uh oh he’s getting bold! “You know Iida-san, I’m glad you gave me a chance. I thought maybe I was too beneath you to have a chance! But you’re so nice and your smile has me flustered” he squeezed my hand “so I was wondering if I could call you my baby.”

“Oh ummm” all the jazz music stopped in my brain, this is bad!

“Was that too much?! Sorry! Um, how about lets start with first names?” he was hasty to fix himself “Can I call you Lili? Or do you prefer Perla?”

“Um actually I-”

“Oh what the hell is all this?!” yelled Maru as he stomped in our direction “hands off my Lili!”

“Hey! Don’t talk to me like that” barked the class rep back “can’t you see I’m with my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?! You don’t have what we have” Maru was getting defensive “I’ve known her since she was born! She’s my girl, we shared a kiss.”

My head was hurting with everything unfolding before me, I’ve had enough! “I’M NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND!” I yelled as I pulled my hand away, then turned to Maru “AND I’M NOT YOUR GIRL! I DON’T LIKE YOU EITHER!” and then everything went dark. I opened my eyes and I was looking up at the commons room ceiling, was it all just a bad dream? I sat up to see sensei, Hoshi, some of the girls and the class rep gathered around me...Oh boy.

“Sensei, she’s up” said the class rep “lay back down, you passed out on the street pretty bad.”

“Yea, that stupid second year friend of yours really tried it this time!” Hoshi said with a scowl “I was about to beat his ass on your behalf!”

“No need, I let his dad know what happened” sensei said then turned to me “as for you, I also let your parents know. Mom said to bed rest and if you feel worse at any point to call her.”

“Thank you” I said weakly as I lay my head back down.

“Lets leave her be guys” Hoshi said to get just me and the class rep alone in the commons room “Hashima-kun, I trust you’ll help her?”

“Yes I will!” the class rep responded “I got it from here sensei.”

I watch everyone part ways to their rooms and I felt at my lowest. “Hey, um, about earlier, I-”

“It’s okay, I understand it was a high stress situation and you didn’t mean what you said” caressed my face “you scared me when you just fell out of nowhere, but you’re safe now my delicate flower.”

Oh gag I hate that! “I can’t hold back anymore” I sighed and lifted his hand off my face “Listen, you’re a decent guy and very courteous, but” I looked straight into his eyes, to assert dominance “I don’t feel the same, we just don’t click.”

“What do you mean? You’ve been nothing but smiles and attentive with me these past weeks.” 

“We’re too different and to be honest, I don’t like hero stuff like you do. I like flavorful food and I abhor boba! Like why the fuck do you want to eat and drink at the same time?!” I started to come around to my usual self “And Deku is my least favorite hero THERE I SAID IT! Mans looks like a broccoli under the mask! And I get you want to be a great hero and you study hero history, but you showing me your collection and favorite bookstore, it makes me feel like I’m not smart enough or I’m not doing enough to be a hero.”

“That’s not true Iida-san! You’re powerful and nimble, way better than me!”

“But it’s true, plus I just lack the social skills to be a decent girlfriend” I put my hand on his hand “you deserve somebody that won’t lead you on like I did, I’m sorry.”

He had a hurt expression on his face “I won’t force you to stay with me, I understand” he slipped his hand out from under mine slowly “it’s because of Togata-kun isn’t it?”

“What?” I was confused and wasn’t expecting him to mention Hoshi.

“You like Togata-kun, you’re always with him and first name them” he explained “your dorms are connected with a rope ladder and your parents treat him like he’s part of the family. He’s special to you.”

“He’s my friend, thats all” I denied any assumptions “yes he’s special to me but it’s not romantic.”

“You say that now but you two are the definition of chemistry” he said standing up “I can only hope to have what you two have.”

He walks to his dorm and I just try to sort myself out on that couch. Bet mom didn’t have it this bad when she had to break it to someone. I peel myself off the couch and make my way to my room to get on with the rest of my day.

-The next day, after school-

“So you’re telling me that your mom and friends just ran off on their wacky adventures?!” Hoshi said in awe as I told him of all my mom’s misadventures in High School “wish we had the same liberties! And fast travel quirks, imagine if we could just think of a place and suddenly be there?!”

“Hahaha my mom’s quirk doesn’t work like that” I laughed at their statement “though I don’t know how they did it! How they just did all that traveling without quirks.”

We were taking our time walking to the dorms, originally we were thinking about going to downtown but we’re honestly too tired to do all that walking! Downtown isn’t too far from the dorms or school, not really worth taking public transport. I envy my little brother Oro for being blessed with the teleportation quirk! Little punk doesn’t even use it! He just walks or bikes everywhere, just to spite us! As Hoshi and I turn to our dorm building, we got stopped by the intel trio we saw when we moved in.

“Yoohoo! Royal children!”

“We said not to call us that” Hoshi responded as they approached.

“Sorry! Um we just wanted to invite you two to our kickback” said the small one “it’s this Saturday in the 1st year’s dorms, doors open at 7pm.”

“Oh?! We’ll be there!” I excitedly spoke for the both of us.

“COOL! See you two then!” said the tall one as they turned back to their dorm.

We waved them off before entering our dorms “I can’t believe it?! We’re cool enough to go to an intel party!”

“I KNOW RIGHT?!” I couldn’t control myself “I’m going to dress up really casual!”

Hoshi gasped “I can wear that tank top with hawaiian shirt outfit I’ve been wanting to flex!”

“Oh my gosh! Your himbo outfit?!” I gasp in response “now I really can’t wait!”

I run off to tell my mommy that I got invited. She tells me that they have rules for all their guests to follow, if I don’t follow them, I’ll get kicked out. She also warns me to not drink too much since it’ll be mine and Hoshi’s first time drinking. My mom didn’t drink too much around us growing up, so I don’t know how bad things get if one drinks too much.

-Night of the kickback-

“Oh crap, I forgot how the hell are we going to sneak over there!” I exclaimed as I was in Hoshi’s room, fixing his outfit a bit.

“Dang that would be an important thing to plan out” he pondered “Hashima-kun does a sweep of the dorms to make sure we’re in our rooms in like 5 minutes.”

“A thought, we say we’re turning in early for the night when he does his sweep” I explain “then I jump in your balcony, you phase us into the ground, we land swim all the way to the inside of their dorm building.”

“Lili, that has to be the craziest thing you’ve ever said to me” he puts his hands on my shoulders “I’m in! Let’s get in our places!”

I nod and I get back into my room, do my part when the class rep does his courtesy knock. When I jump back onto Hoshi’s room, he could hardly keep his giggles in! I get on his back and we go onto the balcony rail.

“This might be a little scary, close your eyes” Hoshi said as he gets ready to jump “I’ll do the land swimming, so just hold on to me.”

I do as he asked of me and I feel the whoosh of us falling and phasing into the ground. It feels a little weird being permeable, like this isn’t my first time being affected by his quirk but in those short bursts of exposure, it feels like you aren’t real! Like you’re a figment of someone’s imagination or a character in somebody’s story. Suddenly, I feel the pop of becoming solid again, I open my eyes as we’re mid-air in the other dorm.

“Oof I’m still not used to that” I said as we fell on our asses.

Hoshi helps me up “Well, at least we made it here!” he smiles “I don’t think anybody saw us sneak out, we’re in the clear!”

We go up the stairs and get greeted by the bouncer, it was the tall one of the trio and they lets us in right away. The others greeted us with excitement and were excellent hosts. It would’ve been amazing...if I didn’t get so drunk so fast. Hoshi was just as trashed as I was, luckily the others took care of us by giving us plenty of water and food. They put us in their extra room to lay down for a bit to sober up. I look over at their digital clock, it was almost 10pm!

“Ugh, I feel like I’ve literally gone crazy ah gone stupid ah!” I groaned on the futon “at least you’re here with me.”

“Lili, you’re like the best!” Hoshi slurred as he reached over to put his hand on my face “you’re pretty and smart, HEY! if I -hic- if I chopped off my titties, would I be hot?”

I thought about it “Hmm, it would help bring the natural muscle build you have under the titties” I poke his chest “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your titties without the binder. Either way, you’re one of the boys to me!”

“Oh dang, I like that answer” he said as he flips onto his back to look up at the ceiling with me “I’ve been thinking about getting top surgery once I get the funds when we graduate.”

“Man, that’s like forever from now” I responded “would you still be my friend after?”

“I’d be your friend no matter what Lili” Hoshi let out a burp “pardon me, but yea, even if we have to work in different cities or you somehow become a famous dancer and have to travel abroad” he turns his head to face me “I’d still be your friend. Would you still be my friend if that comes true?”

“I’d miss you like crazy but I’d still be your friend” I smiled at him “you’re my only true friend Hoshi, out of all the people I’ve met and grew up with, I don’t hate you at all.”

Hoshi starts to tear up “Wow, I feel so loved” he brings me in for a hug “you’re my only friend and GOD am I going to cherish you for the rest of my life!”

I snuggle into his embrace “I love that for us” I look up to his face “you’re comfy to snuggle with, I could drift off to sleep right here.”

“I’ve never been the big spoon before” he put his hand on my lower back and another on the back of my head “we can cuddle all we want, as long as I get to be big spoon! Because it feels nice.”

“Deal!” I laugh as I lay my head on his chest. And I guess we did fall asleep there because I woke up in the same position. I rub my eyes and squint at the digital clock, it’s 7:22am! “Crap! Hoshi, Hoshi! Wake the frick up!”

“Huh? 5 more minutes Gimi-kun” Hoshi groaned sleepily as he rolled over onto his side “I’ll just drink some coffee today before class.” 

“What? No wake up Hoshi!” I said slapping his chest to get off me, his body was crushing me.

He was now fully awake and jumped off me “Sorry! sorry!” he looked around him and panicked “oh no, Lili how the hell are we going to get back to the dorms?! Hashima-kun is going to do his rounds at 8!”

I was thinking at full speed “I can’t think of anything that’ll get us back without getting caught!” I sigh “I guess we gotta take this L and accept punishment.”

“Well, for what it’s worth” he put his hand on my head “it was a fun first time drinking with you. Even if we passed out early.”

I laughed “It sure was” I stood up and my head started to hurt “oof, I think I’m starting to feel that hangover.” We walk out of the room quietly to see all of the intel class up and getting breakfast going.

“Oh shit you didn’t leave in the middle of the night?” said one of the students sitting at the table “I swear I heard you two scurry off at like 3am.”

“No that was the other two that came together and cried on the balcony” spoke up the girl sitting on the counter “these two are the royal children in the hero class” she faces us “anyways, need some help sneaking back to your dorms?”

“Um yes actually!” I winced “our class rep does door to door check in knocks at 8, if we could some how get to our balconies and pretend we didn’t just come back from this.”

“OOH OOH! Is it time to mirage?!” excitedly piped up one of the boys as he jumped.

“Yes, it’s mirage time Mitsuki” responded the girl on the counter “We split into two teams, distraction team and launch team. 3 of us are going to this side lawn and cause a scene, the launch team is going to take you two to the watch tower where I’ll shrink you small enough for Sube-chan here to carry you to your balconies.”

Hoshi raises his hand “Question, can’t you just do that without causing the distraction?”

“Yea but where’s the fun in that?” said the very petite girl as she jumped out of her chair “it’s go time team! WHOO!”

“WHOO WHOO!” chanted everyone as they scurried to their places.

“Come with us!” said the petite girl as counter girl picked her up on her shoulders “to the watch tower my trusty steed! HIYA!”

We follow them to a set of spiraling, iron stairs that seem to go on forever! “How much longer?” I panted

“Just 3 more floors to go!” responded counter girl like it was no big deal “finally, an excuse to use the tower!”

Hoshi and I looked at each other with fear in our eyes, my mom wasn’t kidding when she said intel students were on another level. I will never understand how this whole thing worked because once we got to the top, we looked down to see the distraction team and they miraged a jaguar fight. Then we got shrunk down for the petite girl to carry us on her parakeet form. Apparently she can transform into small birds and the counter girl can shrink or enlarge anything temporarily. It was scary to get fast transported to our balconies, then the pop of suddenly growing back to your normal size! Not good if you’re hungover. But it all worked out! The mirage team showed themselves and chortled the hero dorms for getting scared, the two girls in the tower signaled that they transported us safely and they all returned to their dorms. Things resumed on our side like normal, Hoshi and I start laughing when I gave them a look over some coffee.

-Monday, Lunchtime-

We were at our usual lunch spot when a little birdy came to our table.

“Aw look how cute the little pajarito!” I said as I held out a strawberry “pspspsps, queres fresita pajarito?!”

Suddenly the bird turned into the petite girl from the intel dorms “Don’t mind if I do!” she ate the strawberry out of my hand.

Hoshi and I freaked out “I knew it was weird that a bird with school uniform colors would so happen to land at our table!” Hoshi exclaimed.

“Sorry about that heehee” they wiped their mouth “I wanted to relay a message from our aspiring trio! They want to exchange numbers for fast communication, I don’t do my message carrier service for free!” she takes a sticky note out of her shirt pocket “here they are! OH! and write your numbers in on the back here with your names.”

We copy the numbers and gave our numbers to relay back. I learned that the petite girl’s name is Robin Sube...she took my strawberries as she flew off. Minutes later we got texts from the three people that invited us. It was so cool that I was making friends with students outside my program! Wonder what they may need to us for, aside from parties?

-Saturday evening, the dorms-

I was sitting in my room, working on a piece I saw on the ICONIQUE feature page, when I heard yelling coming from downstairs. The boy’s section was getting rowdy I thought until I heard Hoshi yelling ‘Stop’, then my big sister senses kicked in. I climbed down the rope ladder and onto the balcony.

“Hoshi?” I said as I knocked on the sliding door “are you okay? I heard you yelling and thought I’d check up on you.” I heard the whispers of two other boys then a slam of the door. I opened the door and parted the curtains to see Hoshi’s room trashed and Hoshi trembling, face down on the floor near his bed “HOSHI!?”

As I picked him up, I saw that his shirt was ripped open along with his binder torn and stretched “Lili, I-” Hoshi couldn’t talk, he just started crying and slumped onto me. I didn’t need him to explain, this was clearly a hate crime. Somebody found out and lashed out. That angered me to the point of breaking. I didn’t want eye for an eye, I wanted BLOOD!

“Shhh, shhh, I’m here” I held him close and saw how badly those people hurt him, I put his blanket around him “can you stand up?” He nodded and stood up “good, can you climb up the ladder to my room?” he climbed up to my room and I followed after. I destroyed the rope ladder and saw Hoshi fully breaking down on my bed, trembling with heaving sobs. But what am I to do? I can’t leave Hoshi here alone as I go get my reinforcements, who to call? THAT’S IT! The intel trio!

I pulled up one of their numbers and dialed it, standing on my balcony.

“Hello?”

“Oh good! You answered!” I said relieved “listen, I know we don’t know each other very well but I need help.”

“Oh! yes of course my team and I can help!” the guy on the other side was now on high alert “how can we help!”

“Not going to sugarcoat this but somebody attacked my friend, LeMillion’s son” I try to keep it together “he’s in my room right now because they trashed his room and I really need to tell my sensei about this but I don’t want to leave my friend alone.”

“Say no more, you need us to protect him from further harm?”

“Yes! Will you do it?” I asked with hopefulness “I can offer anything but homework help.”

“I’m gathering the whole squad, we’ll be at your balcony in one minute!” he said as the background noise got hectic “hang tight!” then he hangs up. On the dot, a group of 5 people came zip-lining in.

“Man! I always wanted to use that!” said the tall one “okay, we’re here! Brought the ground team” then he pointed to the watch tower “got eye in the sky team on high alert for any runners. We got your backs!”

“Thanks! Please come in” I let them in my room “Okay, so he’s banged up and they ripped his shirt open-”

“No! Please don’t tell me he got targeted by transphobes!” snarled counter girl “the NERVE of some people!”

“Wait, you know he’s-”

“He told us at the kickback” said the skinny one “we’re super accepting of him” he kneeled at my bed and put his hand on Hoshi’s back “hey, it’s okay, we won’t let anybody hurt you. You’re valid.”

Hoshi wiped his tears “Thank you... all of you” he smiled “I’ve never felt so loved and accepted by anyone, I trust you.”

“I’m going to get sensei” I go to my door “stay here, I’ll be back.”

I close the door and make the dash to sensei’s quarter’s, if they really thought things through, they’d be expecting me. Am I scared, yes. In all my life, I never had to fight like this but my mom told me what to do in such situations. If they worked for her, I trust they’ll work for me. I thought I was in the clear once I was in the hallway leading to the commons room, but two people greeted me once I entered the space.

“I don’t think so!” said on the boys “we’ve been waiting for you!”

I couldn’t believe my eyes “You’re in my class!” I pointed to the other person “and you’re in Maru’s class! Why did you hurt him?!”

“Don’t you mean IT?!” hatefully spat the 2nd year “that’s not a real boy! Things like him shouldn’t live among us!”

“Yea! Don’t tell me you’re one of those bleeding heart social justice warriors!” chortled my classmate “a fine girl like you shouldn’t mingle with those...things!”

“HE’S my friend! You are monsters! Villains even!” I barked back “I don’t need to be social justice warrior or hero to know that he’s happy like this and should be treated with respect!”

“What are you going to do? It’s two against one” snickered my classmate as they got into fighting stance “try to dance yourself out of this one!”

Both of them lunged at me and I dodged them both. With some quick thinking, I bound the second year to the curtains. My classmate had a speed quirk and it was extremely hard to land anything on him. He threw me around like a rag doll, mocked me but I wasn’t ready to tap out. After a while he had me pinned to the ground, both of his feet on my hands.

“Stop! You’re crushing my hands!” I growled as I tried to free my hands.

He put more pressure on my hands “Sorry Princess Ballerina, but I can’t have you tainting my image” he put his hand on my head “hold still, it’ll all be over soon.” 

I braced myself for a direct hit when I heard a bird chirping “Sube-chan? PSPSPSPS pajarito!” I called out, hoping it was really her.

“Huh?” said the classmate before I heard the thud of punches being thrown. I felt his feet lift off of my hands and I got up to see Sube wailing down on my classmate.

“GO! I got it from here!” cried out Sube pinning down my classmate.

I gave them a nod as I ran to sensei’s quarters, I pounded on his door “Sensei?! sensei! Please open the door!”

“What do- OH MY GOD what happened to you?!” sensei was in shock “this is bad! Tell me everything you know!”

I gave him the short of it “...Hoshi is in just a bad of condition, what are you going to do?”

“As much as I hate to say it” sensei sighed “call your mommy, this is her realm. I’ll call the principal, Midnight and nurse Eri to examine you two.”

I made the call and she portaled in the moment I said Hoshi got attacked. She threw down the law on the two culprits, the police got involved too. I didn’t leave Hoshi’s side through this whole process and I didn’t let anybody get too close to him who wasn’t my mom, the police or a school staff. The intel class was excused to go back to their dorms after giving their eye witness accounts. The two culprits were taken into custody by police, by then it was very late into the night.

“Lili, may I come in?” my mom asked gently as she stood in front of the entrance of my room.

“Come in” I lowered my guard.

Mom sighed at the sight of us “So everything is under investigation and being taken cared of” she sat at the foot of my bed “if you two want, I can take you two to the house for 3 days. Just until things are finalized, the school is allowing it.”

“Please, I don’t think I can lay in my dorm room in peace” Hoshi pleaded, eyes tired of crying “I need to escape this environment.”

“I’ll get your clothes and essentials” mom assured him “I’ll get Midnight in here to escort you two to the commons room so I can portal us home.”

She gets Hoshi’s things and we wait for her in the commons room. Hoshi grabbed my hand, like a child holding on to their mother’s hand so they don’t get separated. I squeezed my hand in response. Mom didn’t take long to bring out his things, she summoned a portal that lead right inside the house. My dad was waiting on the couch and got up when we stepped in. He ran up to us and hugged us, he saw the bruises on our bodies and my bandaged hands and just broke down. 

“Who would hurt you two so badly?!” he sobbed “you’re just children that did nothing wrong!” he put my hands in his “did you fight Lili? I wont get mad.” I nodded and teared up “it’s okay, you were brave enough to stand up to what’s right and you won. My sweet daughter, you’re a better person than I was when I was your age.”

We washed up and got ready for bed. I climbed into the guest room bed with Hoshi because I didn’t want to leave him alone. He let me lay on his chest, he didn’t have his binder on, so I felt the lumps of his breasts on the side of my head. I felt like we broke through another layer of friendship, he will always be one of the boys in my heart and eyes.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen...

“I can’t believe this happened! Imagine if Lili didn’t call those intel kids!”

“Don’t say that Tenya, I don’t want to imagine it.”

“I’m sorry! But -sigh- now what?”

“Now we wait, they’re safe here until then. Nobody is going to separate me from my children.”

“You’re a good mother, I love you and your efforts to keep our family together.”

“Do you think they think I’m a good mother too?”

“I know they do, she wouldn’t trust you with her friend’s secret if she didn’t.”

“True...lets go to bed, they should be asleep by now.”

-Chapter 8, End-

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[apexart-journal]

Matheus Rocha Pitta - Days 21 and 22

Despite the cocktail of vitamins, açai, kale, dark chocolate and hours in bed, my recovery came slower than expected. Not feeling in full possession of my body (I was so disengaged with it that the last post was written in the third person), but with no rain ahead, I went to meet D. and see the Greek Independence Day Parade unworried of my condition.

The opening block were five big horses, horses I’ve never seem so big and strong,  of the NYPD, which were followed by three guys cleaning their eventual dumps. Than came the modern equivalent of horses, motorcycles, again from the NYPD. Than more policeman, than Firemen and even the Correction Department was represented with two buses, whose vacant seats seemed to assure there was a lot of room that still could be corrected. D. and me looked at each other wondering whether we were at wrong place at wrong moment, but soon came the Hellenic Association of Medicine, The Cycladian Lawyers (less enthusiastic than their fellows doctors), the Miss Magna Grecia 2019, followed by young soldiers in traditional costumes (some even could, unlike the former misses, evoke greek ideals of beauty) to confirm that indeed it was a greek parade.  I watched everything missing carnival parades back home, but also cyclopes, beheaded medusas, herculean deeds. There was no representation of the School of Athens, no platonic cave allegory, not to mention the beloved cynics school. But Sophia, whom I met in my greek dance classes, recognised me in the crowd and said why you’re not here inside? “I’m a bit sick otherwise I would!!!”.

After having a coffee with D. I headed to Albertine, a french bookstore, where I was designated to journal. An event for kids and the oppressive, yet sedative, remembrance of Proust books prevented me of writing. So I ran from Proust, just like Albertine, or maybe the way around, I ran from Albertine just like a sick writer.

Monday I was finally back in track, felling ready for another month of wonderland.  Roosevelt Island was the first step, to be reached in a very nice tram. I went earlier than the schedule proposed, aware that the sunny morning wouldn’t last much. The island felt like a retreat and indeed there was a hospital there, now in ruins. In the park a monument listed four freedoms, but I was rather confused with it. Defining freedom is as hard as hunting rabbits, yet decomposing it seemed to me a dangerous move. From “four essential human freedoms” one could easily slip and dilute into fifty shades of freedom, with no chiaroscuro to define the contours of what it stands for. 

Before going to a delightful conference on neuroscience and jazz, the schedule foresaw a three hour visit to the American Museum of Natural History. While waiting in the line an email arrived in my mailbox, collecting signatures against an event that would take place in the museum, an homage to Jair Bolsonaro, the extreme right president of Brazil. My decision to self exile (and of which the apex art fellowship was an important step, not to say facilitator) was largely due to his repressive, violent policies reaching legitimate expression. During the fellowship the themes of refuge, exile, immigration and freedom overarched my activities, but nevertheless in an abstract, yet sometimes lurking way. For the very first time I was faced with it in a very concrete, and no less contradictory, way.

The long line gave me time to reflect on these issues. The tourist crowd seemed absolutely unaware that a blue whale skeleton could be involved in a political dispute. I signed the petition but felt it wasn’t much, maybe nothing would be enough. I checked the news, the museum was planning to cancel the party by Monday morning, but it had not up to that moment. So I decided to leave and not visit the museum. For the whole controversy it meant nothing, one could even say how silly, but for my own secret well being it was liberating – which not excluded a somewhat turbulent stream of thoughts. Perhaps a good starting point to a freedom definition is that one is always free to say no.

I walked all the way north of central park towards Harlem and stopped by st John’s the Divine, my now self designated church-of-exile/favourite-place-in-NY. I had a lot of time and checked the news again, looking for a definitive statement of the American Museum of Natural History but what I got instead was the dramatic burning of Notre Dame of Paris. 

It was frightening, especially when I was alerted, upon entering St John’s, that all those ventilators inside the church were trying to dissipate the smoke of a small fire incident in the morning.  My refuge was as precarious as my freedom (not to say my health), but that seemed, in a very strange way, to be more reassuring than threatening, it seemed to be ghostly echoes (which is the same of saying echoes of nothingness) whispering distant secrets of passions and mirrors, of desire and pleasure,  of theatrical sacrifice and the sovereign attitudes of love. 

And it all felt oddly at reach of my hands, like an amulet.