#Inspired by the many brilliant Christmas asks I received

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Christmas Special

Christmas festivities featuring your local kidnappers Yandere! Soldier and Yandere! Sugar Daddy.

Yandere! Soldier who spends all Christmas morning at mass. And when he comes home, snow thick on his uniform, he smells like incense.

"Come see. I've brought you something."

There's a bottle of strong vodka and a frosted fruitcake waiting for you on the counter. You watch him unwrap the cake, your mind wandering to your family, to Christmas mornings when you were still an angsty teen. Did they think you were dead by now? Were they still looking for you?

He cuts a thick slice and holds it to your lips. It's sweet and dense and leaves your mouth sticky.

Yandere! Soldier who tilts your chin towards him and casually runs his thumb across your bottom lip to catch any stray crumbs.

"Let's drink, yeah?"

The vodka is icy cold and bitter. But the taste makes you think of friends and university and late nights when you were too tipsy to stand but oh so warm inside. You throw back more shots than normal, trying to chase the memories.

It's only when he gently pulls the bottle away that you realise you're far past tipsy. You're straight hammered.

You stumble when you stand and he's quick to catch you, one strong arm around your waist.

"You've got no head for drink, моя любовь."

"What does that mean?"

"It means it's time for bed."

You swat at him, irritated. "No. The Russian you used. What does it mean?"

He gently steers you toward the bedroom. "It means my love."

You twist around to face him. "Do you really love me?"

He raises a brow. "Alcohol loosens your tongue, doesn't it?"

He's quiet for a moment, studying you. The flush of your cheeks, the curve of your neck... You're everything he's ever wanted.

"Yes. I really love you. Я клянусь, что да."

I swear I do.

You stand on your toes and kiss him. Cradle his face in your palms and feel the heat of him bleed into you. You're so awfully cold, so awfully lonely. You'll regret it in the morning, but for now you press into him and chase the taste of vodka on his lips.

He pulls away and presses sweet, ticklish kisses against your inner wrist. He can feel your pulse racing.

"я полагаю, это мой рождественский подарок."

I suppose this is my Christmas present.

He grabs your thighs and picks you up. You wrap your arms around his neck, terrified of falling. Your breath ghosts across his neck and your nails dig stinging crescents into his muscles.

He doesn't say it out loud, but it's the best gift he's ever gotten.

Yandere! Sugar Daddy has a tree stacked high with gifts. On Christmas morning, he wakes you up with a kiss and a mug of your favourite hot chocolate, complete with whipped cream and cinnamon sticks.

At first, you assume most of the boxes are just for decoration. There's over a dozen boxes waiting for you - they can't all be gifts, right?

But you should know him better by now. You unwrap present after present, gasping at each one.

A set of custom perfumes from a high fashion brand. Ten different pieces of Tiffany jewellery. A genuine fur coat. Your first pair of Louboutin heels.

Keys to a new car.

You sit in the middle of a treasure trove, struggling to wrap your head around it. He rests his chin on your shoulder and pushes his glasses up his nose.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes! Yes, it's incredible." You turn to face him. "But babe, this must have cost a fortune. I can't accept all of this."

He tilts his head. "Of course you can. I got it all for you."

You're about to argue when he cuts you off. "You said you got me something too?"

You nod and hand him two packages. Your dollar store wrapping paper is glaring cheap next to his.

He unwraps his gifts slowly. The first one is a journal you picked up in a thrift store, weeks before your argument left you trapped with him. Back when you still had your freedom.

You got your artist friend to emboss his name in gold leaf on the front cover. He flips it open to the first page.

To my tech genius boyfriend. This is what we normies call paper. You use it to record all the times your girlfriend is just absolutely incredible, got it? -y/n

He smirks and rubs the page between his fingers.

"I've only heard distant legends of this 'paper'... How fascinating."

You groan. "It seemed funny at the time okay?"

His next gift is a pottery vase, with elegant fluted handles. It's a deep cream with flecks of reddish iron bleeding through. He stares at it, his expression blank.

Your heart drops.

The truth is, you spent months looking for that specific vase. And when you finally found someone willing to sell, the price they named made your jaw drop. You haggled like hell for it. Practically begged the seller on your hands and knees to let you pay it off over a few months. Until this morning, it was a gift you were proud to give him.

But his gifts to you took all morning to unwrap, while all you can offer is a shitty notebook and some amateur pottery. You hate not being able to return his generosity in equal measure. You hate feeling like you're always giving him the short end of the stick. Even now, when you have every reason to hate him, it hurts that you can't spoil him like he does you.

He finally looks up at you, dazed. "This is an original Murazaki. How did you know I wanted one?"

"You mentioned it a few months ago. When we were having dinner together in my apartment."

He puts the vase down carefully.

"You remembered?"

It's your turn to be confused. "Of course? You were really upset about it. You said he was your favourite artist but that you could never find any of his stuff for sale."

He stares at you like he's trying to pick you apart. You look down, embarrassed.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't get you more gifts. I feel like an ass. Like the world's worst girl-"

He grabs you before you can finish and pulls you flush against him. He buries his face in your hair. He takes a deep breath, like he needs to control himself.

"You remembered."

He kisses your temple and then presses his forehead against yours. His voice is low and loving and just a little shaky.

"Oh y/n, you're the best gift I could ask for."

Bonus: a yandere who only has one thing on his Christmas wishlist - you.

You wake up under his Christmas tree, cold and confused and still groggy from the sleeping pills he slipped you.

Your hands are tied behind your back and there's a cherry red gag in your mouth. You squirm, trying to pull your hands free. The floor is icy against your naked skin. Wait, naked?

You look down, horror clawing it's slow way up your throat. Most of your clothes are gone. And you're almost completely wrapped in ribbon.

Your thighs are held together with an excruciatingly tight bow. Two green rosettes are pinned to the lace of your bra. You can't see it, but there's a cute red bow stuck on your head too.

The door opens and you hear heavy footsteps on the basement stairs. You squirm, increasingly desperate to get loose.

"Wouldcha look at that? Santa brought me exactly what I asked for."

Your kidnapper squats down next to you, his eyes roaming your body. Taking in all the curves and dips. Mapping it out like it's his to explore. He reaches out and tugs at the ribbon tied around your throat.

"My girl all wrapped up under the Christmas tree."

He grabs your chin and tilts your face up towards his. His eyes are dark - the pupils blown out wide with lust, with hunger.

"Merry Christmas baby. I promise it'll be one you never forget.

[vivianweasley]

Let Her Go (F.W. x Reader)

Summary: “Only know you love her when you let her go.” childhood friends to lovers, unrequited love

Prompt: This is for @vogueweasley‘s 1K writing challenge and the prompt is #44 “What am I in your life? Because as of lately I feel as though I’ve been nothing to you.” Congrats again lovely!!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst to a bit of fluff, unrequited love, mention of alcohol (Fred being drunk), language (one curse word), Fred being stupid

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: Did I write another friends to lovers with unrequited love? Yes, but I love this idea and I’m just writing to cope. The inspiration is Let Her Go by Passenger! Hope you guys would like it! (Also, let’s pretend they used telephone)

Special thanks to @valwritesx for the support<3

Disclaimer: all the pictures used in the header are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.

Please do NOT repost or translate my work on another site without explicit permission! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)

In your memories, you were always following Fred Weasley around.

You followed him around when he and George were throwing dungbombs in their neighbor’s garden. You were six, and he was seven.

You followed him around when it was your first year at Hogwarts. You were an awkward first year, but he has already established quite a reputation.

You followed him everywhere. Whether it was a quidditch game or detention, you were always there with him. Some people called you his sidekick, but you never really minded because you were absolutely head over heels for him.

You knew he knew about your stupid little crush; you weren’t trying to hide your feelings anyway. And you knew that your feelings weren’t reciprocated, but that didn’t matter. Loving him was your own business. Plus, you knew that at least you meant something to him, so you’ve still got a chance.

You loved him with all your heart and without a doubt. It was one-sided and lonely, but you never cared. Well, at least not until now.

~

It was your party to celebrate receiving a brilliant job offer from America. All of your friends were there.

“I’m so happy for you! But I’m also gonna miss you a lot!” George exclaimed for like the twentieth time today.

You chuckled, “I know, Georgie, I’ll miss you too! And I’m not leaving until the end of the next month. I’ve still got a lot to take care of before I go.” Now that you were actually talking about leaving, the whole concept of living in another country so far away finally began to feel more realistic. “There are just so many things and people I’ll miss.”

“By people, you mean Fred, right?” Ginny teased, “Speaking of which, where is he?”

“I don’t know. He promised he would come,” you replied, couldn’t control the blush that was climbing up your cheeks.

Ginny was right. Of course you were going to miss all of your friends dearly, but you were also going to miss Fred just a little more than the others. And that’s why you were a bit disappointed that he was so late to your party. You couldn’t stop yourself from checking the clock and the door every now and then. The butterflies in your stomach started dancing whenever you heard something outside, but they always die down when you realized it wasn’t him.

The clock soon struck 12, and when you were saying goodbye to the last of the guests, you finally accepted the fact that Fred was not going to show up tonight. 

~

You were helping at the joke shop the next day, and it was already noon when you heard Fred walking down the stairs. 

“Morning,” you could still hear the sleepiness in his voice, and you could tell from his messy hair and puffy eyes that it was a hangover. You frowned a little but you tried not to overthink. Surely he had a good reason, right?

“It’s already noon, brother,” George asked the question for you, “where were you last night?”

“I ran into Lee after work, and we went to the pub. Why?”

“Why? It was Y/N’s party last night, you forgot?”

“Wait, it was last night? Ah shit, I forgot. I’m sorry Y/N,” he turned to look at you. You could see the sorry on his face, but you couldn’t hear it in his voice. You knew that expression all too well. It was the same reaction whenever he got caught playing pranks on someone. He was saying that he’s sorry, but you knew he didn’t mean it.

“Fred, you do realize that she’s leaving soon, right?” George was finding this unbelievable too.

“Oh c’mon, last time I checked, we still have something called a portkey. And I’m sure Y/N will be visiting us pretty often, right Y/N?” The carelessness in his voice stung you.

Hurt, mixed with anger, was rushing to your brain. It was the moment that struck you, a moment that should have happened a long time ago. 

You always thought that even though Fred didn’t love you back, at least you were still a very important friend to him. But now you’ve finally realized that maybe this was just another self-comforting lie. It was not the first time he forgot something about you, and it seemed like he never cared anyway. 

“What am I in your life?” You asked quietly, “Because as of lately, I feel as though I’ve been nothing to you.”

“What are you saying? Y/N, you’re not making any sense.”

“I always thought it’s alright that my feelings aren’t reciprocated because it’s just my own business. But I’m not just that stupid girl who has a crush on you; I’m also your friend! And friends shouldn’t treat friends like nothing.” Your voice sounded calm, but tears were streaming down your face, “It was always me who’s looking for you and thinking about you, but friendship takes two, Fred. Maybe you should start trying too.” 

Then you just stormed out of the joke shop, before George could try to talk you round and before Fred could probably tell a joke to laugh it off.

~

One week later, you left for your new job in a hurry. You said goodbye to every one of your friends, except for Fred. 

Fred was feeling guilty but also confused. Why did you snap like that? What he did was surely just a small mistake, right? And he wasn’t too worried. He was sure that you would forgive him and come back to him. You always do. In fact, he was convinced that he could see you again the next holiday. 

Halloween night, George had plans, so Fred was in charge of closing up tonight. Looking at the empty bowl of sweets on the counter, Fred thought about you. You always remembered to fill it up, especially around Halloween.

The autumn wind was getting cold, and he pulled his coat tighter as he walked outside. The kids on the street were all dressed up, going from door to door trick-or-treating. Fred remembered how you two and George would always go trick-or-treating together on Halloween since you were kids. Even after you all grew up, you would still drag him to go with you. But now he was walking alone in his business suit, on his way home. This moment he felt as if the kid inside him has left with you.

When he got home, he turned on the TV and started switching channels absentmindedly. You should be there, suggesting to watch a horror movie, but then deciding on something family-friendly. You would always try to have a Halloween movie marathon but end up falling asleep, lying on his shoulder. He found it adorable, but he never told you that.

Fred sighed as he laid back on the couch. This was the first Halloween without you.

~

Christmas morning, Fred walked downstairs, noticing something was different in the air. The Burrow was quieter. Sure, most of his family were already up and were gathered around the Christmas tree, chatting and laughing. But you weren’t there.

You weren’t there, showing up at the Burrow way too early in the morning. You weren’t there knocking on his door and waking him up using a cheerful, sing-song voice. He would always groan and tell you to give him five more minutes. But this year, when he woke up to the mechanical sound of the alarm clock, he really missed your cheerful voice.

Fred walked downstairs with everyone wishing him a Merry Christmas, but his eyes were searching the crowd for a glimpse of you that was just impossible to be found. This was the first Christmas without you.

~

New Year’s Eve, Fred and George were at the local pub’s New Year countdown party, along with the other boys. Just like usual, the boys had too much drink and passed out in the pub.

When Fred was only half-awake, he heard your voice calling him, “Freddie! C’mon, let’s get you home!” A soft smile appeared on his lips. You were back! He knew you would be back for the new year. He knew you wouldn’t leave him for too long.

You were always there to pick him up and carry him home after New Year’s party. He was always amazed at how you managed to carry him as he was taller than you, but you were always there for him. He just felt so lucky now to have you in his life, and seeing you in front of him made him smile like an idiot.

You were frowning seeing him lying on the floor, but you soon gave in when you saw that smile. You chuckled and whispered, “Happy New Year, Freddie.” 

The soft smile stayed on Fred’s lips. He felt at home.

When Fred woke up again, he found himself lying on the floor of the pub. The pub was already empty. The boys were already gone. Someone must have picked them up, but there was no one for him. He finally began to realize that it was just a dream. You were still in America, and he was still a loser who’s lying alone on the cold floor on the first day of the new year. 

Fred managed to walk out of the pub. The freezing wind was slapping on his face, trying to sober him up. He walked past a coffee shop. That was your favorite. 

You were all he could think of now. Fred knew that you had a crush on him, but he always believed that it was just a stupid little childhood crush and it would fade as soon as you all grow up. He was just too familiar with you, and familiarity wasn’t what he thought he was looking for in romance.

But you were already in every part of his life. No matter where he goes or what he does, you were always there. But now you weren’t.

There was the first time Fred told a joke, and you weren’t the first to laugh. He loved the way you laugh, for it could always brighten up his whole day, but he never admitted it. 

There was the first time he was humming a song, and you weren’t there to sing along. He loved your voice, for it could always calm him down, but he wouldn’t tell you that.

There was the first time when he realized that he needed you in his life.

The first time when he realized that he loved you more than he thought he did.

It was like muscle memory for him to remember everything about you, but he wasn’t even aware of that, and you obviously didn’t know too. Instead of showing you how much he loved and appreciated you, he just took you for granted because he thought you would never leave. 

Fred dialed your number that night. He thought he might go crazy if he couldn’t hear your voice tonight. As he waited for you to pick up, he felt the inside of his stomach were all twisted together, but it was soon replaced by butterflies when he heard your voice.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Y/N, it’s me, Fred,” he didn’t know why he stuttered, “S-so, I was wondering...do you know where is the photo of us at the station? It was your first year of school. Did you take it with you?”

“No, I gave it to George. Why?” He couldn’t tell your emotion through the phone. Were you annoyed? Or were you happy to hear his voice too?

“Oh, umm, nothing, just missing the old days.” 

“Oh, okay...Anything else?”

There were so many things that he wanted to say. He wanted to tell you that he’s sorry and he missed you so much, but you sounded impatient. So all he managed to say was, “Happy New Year, Y/N.”

There was a few seconds of silence; then he heard you reply, “Happy New Year, Fred.”

Hanging up the phone, Fred felt his heart sank. He hated how emotionless you sounded, and he knew he had to do something. Maybe he couldn’t convince you to come back to him, but at least he owed you an apology.

~

Valentine’s Day. Evening, you walked out of the building you worked in. It was on a wizarding street just like Diagon Alley, so it didn’t take you too long to adjust to the new environment. 

The shops on this street were all having Valentine’s specials, and it reminded you of the Valentine’s specials of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Fred always had the most interesting and romantic ideas-you shook your head. You promised yourself not to think about him anymore.

A shop at the corner captured your attention. You’ve never seen this shop before. You looked for the name of the shop and the sign above read “WWW’.

Just when you thought you were losing your mind and associating everything with Fred again, the shop owner walked out. 

Fred smiled when he saw you. The same beaming smile that had you head over heels for him for as long as you could remember. “Hi, I'm new here. Would you mind showing me around?”

~

A/N: Sorry if the ending feels a bit rushed! I felt like it made sense to end here so the reader could decide if she wants to forgive him or not. 

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[ahankar1610]

Hello there, people of Romione. Nah, second fic. It's inspired by 'a walk to remember', the novel coz the movie did not give book the justice.🙄🙂

I hope you people will like my romione version, and thank you to everyone who gave their time to 'The Trojan Princess', update is not far away on that one 😉😉.

A Tale of Ron and Hermione.

FFNET: 👇

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13926524/1/A-Tale-of-Ron-and-Hermione

AO3: 👇

The first chapter is here 👇.

English is not my first language so I hope, you people can adjust. Coz if I didn't have my sister to help me, you all would have been suffering my disheveled English 😅😅.

Please read and review and visit it on ao3 and ffnet. Thank you. 😊😊

Chapter-1

(President Granger) Hermione Granger sighs as she sat on the bench outside the office of professor McGonagall's office. She is frustrated because of the upcoming bloody Halloween Ball. She had to be present at the ball, not because she is the Head girl, it is because she is the president of the Student Council which was officially created by the Ministry of Magic to find the best upcoming talents who are capable of leading Britain as the best magical country of the Wizarding World. She was one of the first student who was selected for the group, because of her habit of being at the top of the class in the last six academic years of her. Though it was a surprise for her when professor McGonagall called her and informed her that she wants her to be candidate from Gryffindor who will compete against the other candidates from the other three houses for the post of the president. To be honest, she never expected herself to win as she was never the popular student, but as Merlin have blessed her that she got Harry Potter as her best friend. Harry is unofficially, the most popular student of Hogwarts. His wonder of securing place in the quidditch team when he was just a firstie, and being the youngest seeker of the century was a huge endorsement for his famousness. Then in no less a time Gryffindor team became unbeatable and he was the best seeker of the Gryffindor team after Charlie Weasley left and being James Potter's son, one of the most wealthy and successful businessman of the Wizarding World, has its own perks as he was showered with high class quidditch material by his quidditch enthusiast father. Harry was one of the first ever person to befriend her. It was her first year and she had asked the way to the Platform 9¾ from the Potters and from there her friendship with Harry started and she believed that it is because of Harry, she had made friends in their year. She had Lavender and Parvati, who at first did not liked her much but warmed later and they created a great bond together. Seamus and Dean are no exception as they were there for her before she befriended any female from Gryffindor house. She had asked Harry for his help in the campaign for the voting and he had enthusiastically took part in her campaign for everyone's glee and her embarrassment as he once created a wall sized poster of her, with bold words engraved on it. VOTE FOR HERMIONE GRANGER THE FUTURE OF THE WIZARDING WORLD She still receives teasing for that incident. She surprisingly won the voting defeating the candidates of the other houses. Though it was hard work regarding the other candidates of the other houses were brilliant in themselves too. Daphne Greengrass was the Slytherin candidate, she has the honorary title of the Hogwarts' ice queen but is respected by many because of her unbiased views on everyone, even on the Gryffindors. She also received the best prefect award in their fifth year and she also beaten her to the top in the fifth class as she received one mark more than her in their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.s, though she and Greengrass never had a real conversation, there is a unspoken mutual respect between them. Terry Boot was the Ravenclaw candidate and he was also one of the best students academically in their year, but he is not much of a person of interacting and perhaps it was the reason he lost. She blessed Harry as he was the one who forced her to put her book down once and introduced her to the thing called fun or she would have faced the same fate as Boot. Zacharias Smith, she laughed as Smith came into her mind, after all Smith was one of the main causes which made her the winner of the voting. Smith, though good in the academics, is not in the good graces of many people around Hogwarts, including his own house fellows. Sweet Professor Sprout, certainly made a mistake choosing Smith as her house's candidate. Perhaps she never heard of Smith's infamousness between the students. He was disliked even in his own house by many and that is the reason they choose to vote for her as they didn't know

much about Boot and Greengrass must have faced the consequences of Professor Snape's biasness toward the other houses. "President," said a soft voice, she turned her head and a fourth year Hufflepuff girl was standing there and the door of Professor McGonagall's office is opened. "Professor McGonagall has called you inside," said the girl, Hermione nodded and stood up. She walked inside the office closing the door behind and noticed the girl has gone now. "Miss Granger," said a stern voice in greetings. Professor Minerva McGonagall is sitting behind her desk with a stern expression and her cat like eyes scanning her whole features. Professor McGonagall had given her the responsibility speech when she chosen her, the Gryffindor candidate. She had made sure Hermione fills the both responsibilities of Head Girl and President of Student Council decently. "Good afternoon professor," Hermione greeted back. Professor McGonagall nodded and motioned her to take a seat while she rummaged through some papers spread on her desk. It was something surprising to see, for Hermione at least as she had always noticed from their first year that there is no messiness you can expect from Professor McGonagall. Though Hermione don't eighter blame the old professor as there are at least fifty different sheets of papers around the table. Some of the sheets are the grading papers which are thrust into a register, and there are is a huge poster covering the whole table and everything present at the table is doing the work of hiding it. She can figure out the color of poster, it is dark blue reminiscing the color of night. "So," said Professor McGonagall a little firmly, indicating that whatever is going to discuss between them now means business. Hermione straightens her spine unconsciously. "You must be busy with the preparation of the Halloween Ball nowadays, Miss Granger?" asked Professor McGonagall. Hermione nodded stiffly, as the reminder that she, the Head Girl and the President of The Student Council, is dateless two days before the ball came into her mind. "Then you must be also informed that even after upcoming the ball, you're not going to have much free time," Professor McGonagall said, and Hermione's brows furrowed in confusion. Noticing her expression, the professor sighed and dragged a poster up, which was hidden under the mess on the table until now. The poster is large, a size of a huge television. And in the center of it, in huge bold words, there was written 'THE DRAMA FESTIVAL'. Hermione looked at the poster with a frown appearing on her face, but she suddenly turned into the expression of indifference. Professor McGonagall rolled the poster and put it on the side of the table, not very tenderly. Which told Hermione, that the professor also isn't pleased with this, whatever Drama activity it is. "The Headmaster," a frown of frustration appeared on Professor's face, "had accepted the request of Professor Lockhart's permission of hosting the Drama Festival this time at Hogwarts." Professor Lockhart? When in the hell did that man became a professor. Gilderoy Lockhart was famously known for his roles in Wizarding Dramas since he passed from Hogwarts. He was also known for the famous plays he had acted and directed himself, they were regarded as special because they were inspired from the old tales of Wizarding World. She had a stupid crush on him when she was twelve, Parvati had shown her his photo and she always blessed merlin that she soon recovered from that crush, because Harry had made her life hell when he got the wind of her crush back then. "Any questions, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall asked, breaking her musing. She stared at her for a moment, Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrow. She blinked a little and realizing that she had been staring at the Transfiguration Professor's face for five minutes. "Uh-Ah, yes exactly," she said awkwardly and mentally slapped herself realizing how dumbly she is speaking now. "Yes, professor. I mean when will Hogwarts is going to host this event?" "It is going

to be held this December. On 19th of December before the start of Christmas holidays," McGonagall said with her voice a little softer as she is going to inform her everything about the upcoming event. "The Drama as I have informed is based on the famous 'Tales of Beedle and Bard'," said Professor McGonagall. "There will be five plays, which are based on the five stories of the book and the five stories will be played by the students of different years." "The third year students will start with the first play and other plays will be played by the students of following years in the chronological order," McGonagall sighed a little which made Hermione feel that something horrible is coming. "And," the professor drawled a little, "all the arrangement of the festivals are the responsibility of The Student Council." "What? Why!?" she asked a little loudly and flinched when McGonagall sent a pierce glare on her volume. "I mean, why!?" she asked softly. "Because," said Professor McGonagall softly, "Student Council's work is to help students in increasing their skills, and by skill we didn't only meant their academic skill but also their extracurricular skills which not only includes sports but other activities like drama too." Though the points her head of the house gave her are reasonable and adequate, but it still did not take the ridiculousness from the situation she's stuck in. "I know you are not pleased with the events but you must realize that it all is your responsibility as the President of the Council and I don't want the Boards of Directors feel disappointed from the choice of the Hogwarts, now please go and rest Miss Granger. The ball is day after the tomorrow and might need some rest because the tomorrow is going to be a hectic day for you." Professor's words indicated that she's not in a mood of a debate and is really tired. "You're dismissed." Hermione stood up and after wishing the professor a good night she turned and left the professor's office and strolled directly towards Gryffindor common room, where she thinks she might find her friends. She nearly ran towards the seventh floor. Her mind is full of thoughts of the stupid Drama Festival which she had to prepare for nearly two months. Wasn't the bloody Halloween Ball enough!? Her mind is screaming to itself and with the thought of Ball she got the reminder of the absence of a date and it will be pretty embarrassing if the president of the Council turned up alone for the Ball. She huffed, she didn't sign up for any stupid ball and drama fests. "Hippogriffe feathers!" she said the password rather loudly as the portraits around the entrance startled on the loud voice of hers. Entering the common room, she noticed that there are not many students present but the group of her friends was still present on the couches near the fireplace. Dean was the one to notice her, "Hiya President!" he said cheerfully and everyone's head turned towards her. They repeated Dean's words as chipperly, "HIYA PRESIDENT!", umm well too chipperly. She walked and collapsed at the empty space beside Lavender and leaned on her, "Hectic day, I guess," Lavender mused. "Don't even ask," she muttered. "Why does your voice sound so dull, deary?" asked Seamus teasingly, "Is it because our dear President still doesn't have a date?" he laughed. Hermione flipped the small cushion on Seamus's face. Bullseye. "You still didn't find a date?" Lavender asked, a little disappointed as Hermione promised her that she will find a date by evening. "I was so busy, first the preparation and all of the arrangement of the food which I had to arranged with the elves," she closed her eyes and said tiredly, "I really didn't got the time." "Too bad, because nearly everyone is booked now and you're going to turn up alone," Harry chipped in. "Even Neville?" she asked. "Yup! Didn't we told you, Mister Longbottom is getting pretty cozy with certain Hufflepuff name Hannah Abbott." Parvati said. "Arrgh! What in the name of Merlin am I going to do now?" she asked desperately to her friends. "You

can spend the whole night talking to Luna though. She'll be delighted to spend the Halloween night with you," Harry sniggered, Hermione's closed eyes shot wide open at the aspect of spending a whole night in the party with Luna. Everyone laughed at her expression and she started to run her mind to at least find one date, so she will be spared having a night just of controlling the students and conversing about Luna's antique. "Well Hermione," said Seamus loudly. "I would not have done it for someone else but after all you had a special place in my heart." He forwarded a thick book to her which she is encountering for the first time. "What's this?" she asked. "It's the yearbook, I stole it from McGonagall's office," she gasped and Harry shushed her, "So you might get some ideas from it." Seamus said smugly, looking proud of himself on stealing the book from the office of keen-eyed Professor McGonagall. The subject quickly diverted to the quidditch matches, leaving her and the yearbook alone. Though she was little uncomfortable as after all her 'great' friend had to steal it for her. She closed her eyes and started rummaging through pages and after a great search her eyes landed on one name, she knew who probably not had a date by now, Ronald Weasley.

[alwaysfeelingsaintlike]

Driving Me Mad [G.W] - Part 1

Series Description: You and George come up with a plan to help each other out by pretending to date each other. But what happens when you actually start to catch feelings...

Pairing: George Weasley x Gryffindor fem!reader 

Word Count: 2.2k

Description: You reconnect with George during a friendly game of spin the bottle.

A/N: This concept was inspired by one of my favorite 90s teen movies, Drive Me Crazy (which everyone should watch btw). I wrote this a few years ago and recently re-worked. This is part 1 of 8! Enjoy :)

                                                         X

“1…2…3…4…” you heard Fred calling. You took off at a run to find your spot. You were playing hide and seek, like you always did at these reunions. The Burrow was the best venue for hide and seek because there were so many great hiding spots, both inside and out. Fred and George seemed to be the best at this game, but you had one secret spot where no one could ever find you. You ran down the stairs quickly, hoping you wouldn’t be heard or spotted. Your parents were in the sitting room with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, waiting for the roast to finish and you tip-toed to the one area where you shouldn’t have been, the kitchen. It was an unspoken rule that the kitchen was off limits when Mrs. Weasley was preparing dinner, but you were never one to follow rules. You heard the adults talking in the other room and knew you had a very limited window to get situated. You opened the cabinet under the sink and went to climb in when you realized there was already someone in there.

“Hey! This is my spot!” you whispered, still trying to keep your cover.

“Well too bad, I was here first,” he spat back. 

“READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!” Fred called. Your eyes went wide in panic and you shoved yourself into the cabinet.

“Slide…over…” you said as you dug your elbow into George’s side. You knocked over stacks of bowls and pans and you quickly shut the cabinet door hoping to muffle the noise.

“I can’t believe you took my spot,” you grumbled.

“Your spot? I don’t see your name on it,” he teased. You smacked him and he winced. “Now, that wasn’t very nice.”

“Shh…you’ll give our position away.” You heard footsteps coming across the tile floor and held your breath. 

You sat there for what seemed like hours, whispering insults back and forth and laughing about stupid things. The hardest part about sitting there was that dinner was starting to smell amazing. It was torturous. That was the downside to having a great hiding place; you were stuck there until you got found.

“Okay, I give up. You guys win. Just come out now,” you heard Fred calling.

“Should we?” you asked George.

“Nah. It’s more fun this way.”

By this point all of the kids were looking for you both, and maybe even the adults. It was hard to tell for sure, considering you were curled up in a cabinet, but you could hear lots of footsteps and your names being called repeatedly.

“Kids, come for dinner!” Mrs. Weasley called.

“What about now?” you asked George, thinking that the seekers would stop looking for you the minute their eyes caught sight of the meal. 

George shook his head no and you trusted he knew what he was doing. “Just wait for it…” he whispered.

As if on cue, both the cabinet doors suddenly flew open. You had been caught. You then realized, it was Mrs. Weasley who had caught you and she had yet to notice two children were in place of her kitchen supplies. She was turned and was calling for the older boys to come and set the table. 

Slowly, very slowly, she turned around and bent down to tend to the cabinet. George’s face broke into a warm smile, knowing what was coming next.

“AAAH!” she shrieked upon seeing your childish figures cramped into such a small space.  You and George erupted into laughter at her reaction as everyone else scurried in to see what had happened. Mrs. Weasley was leaning against the counter, clutching her heart before she essentially beat you with a dishtowel to get you to come out.

“George! Y/N! What on earth were you thinking? You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Weasley! We didn’t mean to. We were just playing hide and seek,” you spoke, innocently enough. Her mood completely changed and it was as if nothing was wrong.

“Well…alright. Go wash up for dinner,” she said. 

Fred approached the two of us, “That was brilliant. Couldn’t have done it better myself,” he said, giving you both high fives. 

Dinner was full of laughs and merriment as the two families conversed over a lovely meal. George sat across from you at the table and every now and then he would kick your shins and give you that evil grin of his. This was your relationship. You were essentially the second Weasley girl, and according to the twins you were more fun to torment because you could dish it back.

Dinner drew to a close, which meant you could continue playing again. The adults stayed and talked more over tea as you all made up imaginary games, pretending to be people you weren’t. Then, soon, your parents would call you and give you the twenty-minute warning, which always meant you were leaving in an hour. You would say your goodbyes like it was no big deal, but once you started heading home you grew infinitely sadder knowing you’d be playing alone until your next trip to the Burrow.

                                                              X

A lot of time had passed since the hide and seek days. Now, hide and seek was used when you were playing hard to get, which happened quite often now that you were a 5th year. You also didn’t see as much of the Weasleys as you used to. When you were younger, you would go over to the Burrow all the time. But now you only really saw them in passing at Hogwarts. You were still friendly, of course, but you had found yourself in a different friend group. 

Recently, you’d been spending a lot more time with the Ravenclaw’s largely because you were dating Roger Davies. You had started dating towards the end of your fourth year and things had been going great. You were particularly excited for the upcoming school year because they had announced the Triwizard Tournament.

The champions had just been announced and you were in  Room of Requirement, sipping a butterbeer and celebrating with a majority of the Hogwarts population.

“Here ye, here ye!” someone called out. Your attention shifted to the center of the room where the Weasley twins were making an announcement.

“As you all know, we are here for two reasons. One: to celebrate the success of our fellow Hogwartsians,” one of them spoke. The crowd cheered. Cedric’s friends clapped him on the back while Harry stood awkwardly in the corner with a handful of Gryffindors from his year. 

“And two is to have a bloody good time!” the other twin shouted. That statement was followed by even more applause. People clinked their butterbeer bottles together as the twins made a few more remarks to the group.

You mingled around the party for a bit, keeping your eye out for Roger who hadn’t seemed to arrive yet. After a few butterbeers, you stopped worrying so much about your boyfriend’s whereabouts. 

“Who wants to play spin the bottle?” you heard someone call. That certainly caught your attention. All the participants sat in a circle on the floor.

“What rules are we playing tonight?” Cho asked. 

Fred spoke next, “Spinner gets one spin. Whoever the bottle lands on can decide if they want one kiss in front of everyone or five minutes in the closet. You only get a re-spin if the bottle lands on yourself. And all wands in the middle of the circle. We don’t need any interference. Sound good?” Everyone nodded in agreement and the festivities ensued.

Since Cedric was the champion, everyone agreed to let him spin first. His bottle landed on Lavender Brown and she chose to enter the closet with Cedric. Cho looked pissed, as she had her eye on Cedric this year. The two emerged from the closet minutes later, Cedric looking sheepish and surprised and Lavender trying to hide the grin creeping up her face. 

You waited and waited for your turn, and you found yourself getting bored. You were about to leave the game and head to bed but then you heard your name.

“You’re up.” 

The bottle slid over to you and you decided you would leave after your turn was up. You held the glass bottle for a moment before placing it in the middle of the circle and giving it a good spin. The bottle was almost mesmerizing as it completed rotation after rotation before finally slowing down to land on someone. You slowly looked up to see who was at the receiving end of your spin and you internally cringed to see that familiar smile. 

“Alright Y/L/N, I will see you in the closet,” he said. Everyone ‘oohed’ like you were preteens as he stood up and made his way to the closet. You reluctantly followed, knowing this was your ticket out of here.

“Well if it isn’t my first girlfriend,” he smiled as you made your way through the door.

“You wish, George. We were six…it didn’t count.”

“That’s what you think.” You rolled your eyes at his comment.

“Just so you know, nothing is happening in here. I have a boyfriend.”

“Ah of course. Well how are things?”

“Things are going great between us. We’ve been dating almost-“

He cut you off, “I wasn’t asking about Roger. I was asking about you. We haven’t talked in a while.”

“We run in different circles, George. We aren’t kids anymore. We’re barely even friends.”

He clenched his heart, “Ouch. That hurts.”

“Well it’s true!”

“Just because we don’t hang out or talk doesn’t mean we’re not friends.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you mumbled. 

“I bet I know more about you than your so-called friends, Cho and Marietta. In fact, I think I know more about you than Roger.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “Is that so? Prove it.”

“Well, I know that your favorite color is purple, your best subject is Charms, and you hate the cold but you love Christmas.”

“That is not that impressive. Roger knows all of that.”

George took a step closer to you, “Does he know that you secretly love watching Muggle movies, you’re ticklish on your left knee and that there’s a little star shaped mole just behind your ear.” He gently tucked your hair behind your ear and ran his finger right over the hidden mole. You looked up into his eyes and felt an unusual feeling that you weren’t sure how to define. For a moment, you thought you saw him leaning in towards you. He was going to kiss you and for some odd reason, you were going to let him. Just as your lips were about to touch he turned away as there was a series of knocks on the door. 

“I think our time is up,” you spoke softly. You slid from under his gaze and opened the closet door. “They all bolted…” you stated. The room was full of discarded cups and empty bottles, but no familiar faces to be seen.

“Filch or someone must’ve come by,” he said, “The knock was a warning.” You shrugged and without talking you made your way out of the room. “Heading back to Gryffindor tower?” he asked you. You had briefly thought about going to Ravenclaw tower to check in on Roger, but you decided against it.

The journey was silent, for the most part. Neither of you felt the need to talk. Just as you were about to turn a corner, George grabbed your wrist and pulled you back. You turned back at him confused and he said, “Not that way, we’ll get caught. Filch is usually patrolling that corridor.” You gave him an unamused look, thinking he was just trying to make things difficult when he added, “Trust me.” 

You weren’t sure why, but you did trust him. You followed him down a dark hall that you’d never been down before. You hoped he knew where he was going. It was dark and you couldn’t see very well but you didn’t want to give away your position by using Lumos. Out of nowhere, George took your hand and helped guide you down the hallway. You didn’t really understand why he was being so nice to you. You had barely talked over the years, aside from the occasional family gathering. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden pop of light. You looked up and the two of you were face to face with Professor McGonagall. 

“Professor,” he spoke.

“Mr. Weasley…Ms. Y/L/N. Is there a reason you two are out of bed past curfew?” she asked you sternly.

“Yes, but it’s not a very good one,” you said. You were toast. If it had been Flitwick or Moody you could’ve talked your way out of it, but McGonagall was too strict. You only hoped your punishment wasn’t too severe.

“Ten points will be taken from Gryffindor. Each. And you will report for detention later this week.”

“Yes ma’am,” George spoke.

“Now back to bed, both of you!” You scurried past her as you realized how close you were to the common room.

“So much for not getting caught,” you muttered.

“Hey, lay off it. I was trying to help,” he snapped. “Sometimes you can be such a bitch,” he added under his breath.  You weren’t expecting that, but you admittedly deserved it.

You reached the common room and you went in and immediately went up to your room. You curled up in bed and tried to sleep as best I could.

[gratefulfrog]

RIP Tony Rice

From Rick Skaggs

Sometime during Christmas morning while making his coffee, our dear friend and guitar hero Tony Rice passed from this life and made his swift journey to his heavenly home. It’s still quite a shock to the whole family. After talking with Tony’s wife Pam and their daughter India, they asked if I would make a statement on their behalf and give them some privacy to process during this difficult time. I was honored to help out. Tony is also survived by his brothers Wyatt and Ronnie, and all of you who loved his music and those who will continue to share it with others.

Tony Rice was the single most influential acoustic guitar player in the last 50 years. Many if not all of the Bluegrass guitar players of today would say that they cut their teeth on Tony Rice’s music. He loved hearing the next generation players play his licks. I think that’s where he got most of his joy as a player. With many IBMA Awards and a Grammy Award, Tony was a gracious recipient of the International Bluegrass Music Award’s highest honor as an inductee into their Hall Of Fame in 2013.

Not only was Tony a brilliant guitar player but he was also one of the most stylistic lead vocalist in Bluegrass music history. When I joined the group The New South in 1974, I knew I’d found a singing soul mate with Tony. Our voices blended like brothers. In 1980 we recorded the album “Skaggs And Rice” for Sugar Hill as a tribute to our duet hero’s with just the simplicity of guitar, mandolin, and our voices. All these years later people tell me how much the purity of that record still touches their heart. That’s who Tony was, a singer from the heart.

I will miss him as I’m sure all of you will. But where Tony is right now, he’s not missing us. He’s in the place that God has prepared for those who love Him and receive Him. Rest In Peace dear brother. Thank you for your great talent and the music that will continue to inspire more and more generations to come.

- Ricky Skaggs

Photo credit: Jeremy M. Lange

[noxtms]

THE DAILY PROPHET, 1.1.21 STATEMENT BY THE MINISTER OF MAGIC, KINGSLEY SHACKLEBOLT.

❝   MAGICAL BEINGS OF BRITAIN & IRELAND.

it has been my huge honour and great privilege to spend the past several years in the position of your chosen minister of magic. your safety and prosperity has always been my highest concern, and i hope that you have clearly seen this reflected in the decisions that i have made. despite a huge amount of push back from a conservative wizengamot who has not always matched my views, i have strengthened our auror office for your protection & in the wake of the most recent escape from azkaban prison, ensured the removal of the dementors from it, something which i long campaigned for.

the knowledge that my legacy as your minister may be tarnished forever by my mistakes has made me wish to postpone this moment for as long as i possibly could, but recent events have forced my hand. on the morning of december 25th, bellatrix lestrange made a calculated move against the ministry of magic, which was foiled by myself and a small number of aurors available at the time. such an attack could only come from a woman who has grown exponentially in her confidence over the past few months, and an evil such as this puts everything that we hold near and dear in danger - and has unfortunately exposed my most heartfelt secret. 

bellatrix lestrange discovered the truth of the battle of hogwarts. she found and attacked harry james potter, who has, until now, been living a muggle life - with the ministry’s blessing - alive, protected and most importantly, anonymous.

it was our great joy to discover that far from be murdered by he who must not be named, mr potter had survived the battle, albeit having exchanged serious injury. it was our duty to allow him, the hero hailed for so many years as the chosen one, the life he chose to lead. belief of his death was so widespread that it made protecting his anonymity easier than it ever could have been, otherwise, and until today, only a small fraction of my ministerial force has known of the oath i made and kept at all costs to a boy, who, at seventeen, chose to drift away to a nondescript life like he could never have otherwise known.

it was a lie of massive proportions, which i understand will inspire feelings of betrayal. it is a shifting of a belief that you have lived so long under, and my part within upholding it will make you look at me with distaste, and possibly, distrust. i assure you all that my secrets begin and end here : and that had i not thought him owed his peace, as someone who was for so long propped up by our society as a tragic figurehead, i would have never made a promise that would hide such a truth from you all.

harry james potter would have willingly given his life for ours. he is the hero we have all come to think of him as. but he was also a boy. a boy who’s parents were murdered by he who must not be named, who survived the unsurvivable killing curse, and who was thrust into a life which he received no choice in. i felt it my personal duty to allow him this one, which has, to my great sadness, been stolen from him by bellatrix lestrange.

in light of this, and at the suggestion of the wizengamot, i have chosen to step down as minister of magic effective immediately. i will be replaced by someone i have no doubt the council will decide better than me, with policies i am sure they will believe are better than mine. the transferral of power will be entirely amicable. i have already agreed to return to my previous position of head of the auror office, where i will continue to put your safety above all else. your ministry remains, and will remain, strong.

i apologize to you all, for what i have done, and what i have failed to do. most of all, i apologize to mr harry james potter, for failing in my solemn oath of keeping his self imposed isolation safe, and the secret of his whereabouts, unknown. i hope you will all forgive me, if not now, then someday - though i assure you all that regardless of whether you do or do not, i will always be here when i am needed.

most sincerely, kingsley shacklebolt.    ❞

OUT OF CHARACTER :

the last statement from kingsley shacklebolt as minister of magic runs as front page news on the FIRST day of the new year, and will continue to be featured heavily in the paper for weeks to come. the news of him stepping down is understandably drowned out by the announcement of harry potter’s ‘survival’. this LIE does a rather brilliant job of ensuring that no one really asks for specifics of the ‘attack’ orchestrated bbellatrix lestrange upon the boy - ensuring that what happened in the department of mysteries remains the order & the da’s secret, and that harry potter’s sudden reappearance has... something of an explanation. at least, one that doesn’t require admitting that he was resurrected.

this marks the end of our december events ( winter festival & masquerade ball ), but never fear : you’re welcome to continue these threads. this plot drop allows us to move past christmas, finally - meaning that we’re officially back up to date, timeline wise. 

in the mean time ( which is to say, between now & our next major event ), i’d recommend keeping an eye on the daily prophet blog ! you might just see something interesting, at some point over the next few days. 

if you have ANY questions or concerns, you are as always welcome to shoot them my way ! 

[sing-in-me-oh-muse]

Fanfiction Year in Review - 2020 by sagansjagger

Fanfiction Year in Review - 2020 by sagansjagger

Image credit,

Whoo, I love me some tumblr ask games! Thanks for the tag, @ladyofthenoodle!

1 List of fics completed this year in the order they were finished:

I am so sorry about this, but I'm just going to link my entire profile because I started writing MLB fic in April 2020 and ended up with 72 fics. If I listed and linked them all, I'd be here all day.

My works (ao3 link)

I suppose what I could do is list out statistics.

As of January 2nd, 2021, I have to my name:

72 total fics - 4 long fics, 1 drabble series, 67 one shots

7 series - Domestic Cavities (married life fluff), Sex Education: Kwami Style, She Was Certainly the Spark for All I've Done (Crash universe), Kiss the Viper (Vipermouse), CYOA: Life is What You Bake It (Choose Your Own Adventure stories), It’s the End of the World as We Know It (Chat Blanc), Bad Dad’s Club (Adult XY & Adrien friendship

16 gen, 12 Lukanette, 6 DJWifi, 4 Riceflour (Tom and Sabine), 3 Adrigami, and 47 Lovesquare. If the math doesn't add up in this it's because sometimes these are background pairings.

2 Number of words written:

463,044! 

3 Your most popular fic:

Definitely Welcome to the Scene of the Crash, my first fic in the fandom and the birth of the Spark series. This is a 63k monster that I wrote in six days, focusing on the effects of starvation on the body and mind. Crash has two sequels, And He’s Gotta be Fresh from the Fight and Into Your Heart, I’ll Beat Again, both of which are complete.  

4 Your personal fav:

Tough choice... I’d probably have to say Crash because it’s my baby. As I’ve said before, I woke up at 4:30am with a song in my head (Take Me to the Hospital by the Prodigy) and the first line: “Adrien was starving.” Crash is what started me writing for the fandom and how I made almost all my new friends here.

Image credit.

5 Your fav scene:

Oh, this is hard. I’ve actually written so much that I don’t recall all the scenes I’ve written? But I can say that I was so ready to write the last chapter of Heart. It’s tooth-rotting Christmas fluff that was Adrien and Marinette’s happy ending after 260k+ words of angst. That scene isn’t my favorite scene by far, but it was one of the most satisfying to write.

6 A fic or scene that challenged you:

Definitely Couffaine Coffee Conundrum, a Lukanette & Adrigami piece. My server anniversary giftee, Rikka, requested a fluffy double date with the pairings, but all my brain wanted to do was make it angsty. I had to write the fic twice.

7 A line of writing you’re proud of:

This is from my as of yet unpublished Sleeping Beauty AU (publication date: February 1st, 2021!). I’m proud of this line in particular because I don’t often write lines that are just... pretty. I nail body language, but most of my writing is straightforward and if not ugly, certainly not beautiful. 

Anyway, here’s the line:

Winter passed with one last, lingering gasp, the bony fingers of cold clinging to the days.

Image credit.

8 A comment that touched you:

I’ve gotten several comments that have touched me, but the most recent one was from a reader of Fight. They told me they liked my use of therapy in the fic and that they were considering getting therapy because they could see how much therapy had helped Adrien.

Another comment along the same lines was someone who realized that they’d been starving after reading the symptoms of starvation Adrien experienced in Crash. Being able to educate someone while entertaining them blows my mind.

9 Something that inspired your writing:

Definitely the good people on the Miraculous Fanworks Discord server, specifically @ladyofthenoodle​, @sseagully​, Rikka, and Sibby. I’ve developed so many stories because of those lovely ladies, and have received so much support and encouragement from the members of the server. One of my most popular recent fics, have the stars blotted out in a brilliant Morse code, started based on a discussion in the #writing-chat on that server, and @theladylu​ even drew some lovely fanart for it (featured below).

10 Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc):

Definitely finishing Heart. That happy ending was a long time in coming.

11. Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

Yes! I want to finish the second Choose Your Own Adventure story, a pre-reveal, post-relationship Adrienette fic focused on baking pies with Tom and Sabine. I also want to finish the Sleeping Beauty AU, which I’m on track for. Desperation would be a great fic to finish; I started that one, got to chapter 5, and quit because it was too sad, haha! And I’m working on an original work that started out as an Adrienette Witch AU titled Must Be the Season of the Witch that I’d like to finish sometime in the next six months.

Tagging @itsagrestebug​, @purpleflower04​, @torilovesmiraculous​, and @sseagully!

[shes-an-oddbird]

Christmas at River’s End Mall

Summary -  A Christmas AU in which everyone navigates their seasonal jobs, relationships and Christmas spirit, or lack there of, through woven together tales inspired by holiday prompts.

Chapter 8 - Letters to Santa

Summary - Daniel and Daisy discuss what they would ask for if they were to write letters to Santa.

Prompt - Letters to Santa Relationship - Daniel x Daisy (More Dousy!) POV - Daniel

Daniel was good with words and tactful answers. He could come up with kind replies that were reassuring but vague about what kids might get for Christmas. So who better to write replies from Santa?

Maybe the guy with an old typewriter that gives the letters from Santa an authentic look and feel?

But that was still him.

Daniel had quickly been promoted from Elf who didn’t have a clue what was going on, to Elf in charge of answering all of Santa’s mail. It’s not such a bad assignment, Daniel thinks, deciphering the scribbled requests for ponies and play stations. It certainly beats reading half-assed essays from his students. And the company wasn’t bad either. Although it was a solo gig most of the time, every slow moment she had, when the lines had dwindled and the chairs sat empty, Daisy would plop down in the seat next to him, ready to help with her laptop open and a software program that replicated the look of a typewriter.

While she knocked out two or three letters, she would tease him about his lack of Christmas knowledge. His library of holiday music had already received an overhaul. Daisy programmed the radio this time of year for the best mix of old and new and anytime he didn’t recognize one she would give him the title and artist and request a rating in return. He liked the jazzy ones best. And he still hummed along to the classics, but he would admit some of the remakes were good too.

Movies were still on hold.

Though not said in so many words it had been agreed they would watch the ever-growing list of Christmas flicks together. She warned him of her snack hogging and commentary but he assured her that was part of the reason he preferred to watch with others. The only problem was, she simply didn’t have the time.

It often seemed like just as quickly as she would sit down, Daisy would have to jump back up. She kept the kids in line to meet Santa happy, ran around fetching supplies for the craft tables, he had even watched anxiously as she eyed an altercation at a nearby clothing store but before she could react, mall security had arrived.

They’d gotten faster in the last few days.

“How are you holding up?” Daisy asks, not even bothering to sit this time, just leaning against the table he worked at.

Daniel shook his head in disbelief. “You haven’t sat down since you got here and you’re asking me?”

“My coffee is wearing off, if I sit I might not get back up again.” He understands, his students walked around in the same caffeine driven frenzy around finals. Daisy managed to look more put together but he could see the exhaustion in her eyes. “Seriously though, I’ve been on this job before, how many kids asked for cell phones?”

Its like she read his mind. “Fifteen just today and some of them were very specific, not to sound like an old man but I looked up this smart watch and it cost more than my first car.”

She grins back at him, “You’re not wrong, but you definitely sound like a ‘back in my day’ old man.”

“Daisy! We need help!”

Across the North Pole a group of teen volunteers were working on a banner for their parade float, the tallest of them is waving her over.

“I’m coming!” She calls back and quickly turns to him. “Coffee break in a little while?”

“Sure.”

As she goes, she crosses paths with Elena who is making her way towards the table. “The brilliant honor students over there spelled Christmas wrong and are arguing about how to fix it.”

“I’m on it.”

Daniel prepares the small pile of Santa’s Letters that had been written in Spanish and slides them over to her as she takes a seat.

“Does she ever slow down?” Daniel asks, nodding at Daisy’s retreating back.

Elena laughs clearly amused by the suggestion. “This time of year, no, and that’s saying something coming from me.”

“Why do you say this time of year?”

“Daisy already throws her whole self into whatever she’s doing, but in case you haven’t noticed she’s a little loco about Christmas.”

“No kidding.” Her knowledge of all things Christmas was extensive and he joked that she should teach a class on it. She didn't look like a typical Christmas crazy person, with a wardrobe of ugly Christmas sweaters and headbands with reindeer ears. Although she did dutifully wear the elf hat that distinguished the volunteers. She was the first to arrive and the the last to leave and always had a smile on her face when working with guests.

“She met May here,” Elena tells him, “when she was still just a kid at the orphanage and they bonded, I should probably let her tell you but that’s why she so invested in this event and in Christmas.”

That did explain her dedication.

***

Daisy places her coffee down on the table in between them and he is so distracted by the way she has pulled her sweater sleeves down over her hands that he almost misses her question.

“So what would be on your list for Santa?”

“What?”

“Your list?” She asks again, “If you wrote one today, what would be on it?”

He has to take a moment to think about it. He hadn’t asked Santa for anything since he was a little kid and his parents hadn’t asked him what he wanted in at least a decade. He tended to be very practical and, aside from purchasing books he didn’t have time to read, he didn’t have frivolous wants. There were always things to ask for of course but the number one thing would certainly bring down the mood. “Do you want the honest answer or the one that can go under the tree?”

Her smile softens. “Either.”

He laughs quietly. One of the jazzy Christmas songs he enjoys comes on over the radio and it hits him what he’d really like to do. “When I was a kid my parents taught me and my sisters how to dance, like really dance, my mom is an instructor and my dad learned how so he could impress her, used to be a lot of fun.”

Daisy looks back at him in surprise, “I wasn’t expecting that, but also I’m not completely shocked.” Her expression becomes curious, “can’t you? you seem to get around okay but I guess dancing is a little different?”

He shifts his leg, stretching it out under the table. “I haven’t since, I’m guessing I’m a bit clumsier than I used to be, might be tricky to find a partner.”

Daisy rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, I'm sure it would be a real struggle being all handsome and funny and smart.”

“So what about you?” He asks quickly, to redirect their conversation off of him.

“Sorry?”

“What would you put on your list?” He clarifies.

“Oh,” she leans back in her chair, “I don’t know, everyone usually gives me Christmas ornaments, which I love but I don’t have to ask for them.”

“But from Santa? the magical being who can grant any request, be honest.” He encourages because he really wants to know, even if its not something that you can just stick a bow on.

“Honestly?" She paused and then lets out a little laugh. "I want, like eight more hours in my day.”

“Elena did say you’re always on the go this time of year.”

“I don’t want to miss a second of it.”

“No but are you really enjoying it?” He asks because as busy as she is he can't imagine she has time to actually time to relish in the time of year that means so much to her. She sighs heavily and he watches her shoulders sag slightly in uncertainty. She glances down at the coffee cup that’s probably empty by now.

“Do you still want to see the lights from the roof?” She asks suddenly.

“If you’re not busy.”

“I mean you’re right, the lights are my favorite part of Christmas and I haven’t even been up to see them, I'll just have to make the time, tonight?” He thinks maybe there is a way he can help with that. “Let’s get some refills and get back.”

They step up to the counter and Bobbi grabs the pot of coffee off the machine. “What do you want for Christmas?” Daisy asks and Bobbi rolls her eyes.

“That’s not how secret santa works.”

“No one said I got you.”

“Dais – “

“Seriously, we were just talking about Christmas lists, Bobbi, Elena, Jemma and I do a gift exchange every year.” Daisy explains.

“Unavoidable, we started the year I opened the coffee shop, it was that or everyone was getting coupons.”

“That reminds me, my friend, the one who can get you the part for your espresso machine, he’ll be here tomorrow for the parade, I asked him to come by if you’ve got the time?”

“You’re serious?” Bobbi lights up.

“His name’s Antoine Triplett, should be by around three.”

“Great, I’ll be here.”

***

Daniel spends the rest of the day trying to save Daisy as much time as possible. He finishes up the last of Santa’s letters and proceeds to help her with every mundane task assigned to her. Supply runs, glitter spills, crying kids, anything that can be considered more work than fun, he’s there to lighten the load.

He thinks it startles her a few times, when she goes to collect the broom and he’s already there with it in his hands.

At the end of the day they get everything cleaned up in record time. They’re just pulling on their coats and she’s explaining the back stairs they have to take up to the roof when Daisy’s best friend Jemma comes running up to them.

“Daisy, you’re here still here,” she chokes out, trying to catch her breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need your help, I took this huge order, I’m wrapping all of this woman’s Christmas gifts, there are at least a hundred of them.”

“That’s great!” But Jemma’s already shaking her head, still holding a stitch in her side.

“I might have accidently used a bit of paper with some writing on it to wrap one of the gifts.”

“Writing?” Daniel asks.

Jemma's blushes. “I use the scrap paper to write notes to Fitz and when I was cleaning up and I realized one of the notes was gone, I think I used it on one of the smaller gifts.”

“Okay, okay calm down, we can fix this, we’ll just unwrap the gifts and rewrap them.”

This doesn't calm her down. "She’s picking them up tomorrow after the parade, I’ve spent all day on them, she requested very specific papers and I have to be at the lab in less than an hour!”

Daniel watches as the gears turn in Daisy's mind, searching for a solution. She looks from the stairwell, to him and back to Jemma. “Okay, you go to your lab, I’ll get started unwrapping them, find the damn note and just come back when you done and help me finish rewrapping them.”

Jemma looks near tears. She throws her arms around Daisy in a tight hug before backing away. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, look for all the gifts under the name Samuels”

Daisy turns back to him. “I’m sorry, I guess this postpones our plans again.”

“Its okay, do you want some help?”

“You don’t have to.”

“We’ll get it done in half the time with two of us, just until Jemma gets back and she can take over.”

“Alright, um, the parade, its in the morning, were you going to come watch?”

“I was probably just going to watch it on the TV but I can make a change of plans.”

“Its not the same as the lights, but we can watch it from the roof, you can see it go on for miles.”

“Sounds great.”

[askamydaily]

This year -- put a Book on EVERY Bed

This year: put a Book on EVERY Bed

By “Ask Amy” advice columnist Amy Dickinson

10 December, 2020

Dear Readers: Every year at Christmastime, I delight in promoting a Book on Every Bed. I do so in memory of my mother, Jane, who raised her children to understand that if you have a book, you are never alone.

The idea originally came from historian David McCollough, who recounted the Christmas mornings of his youth, when the very first thing he woke up to was a wrapped book at the base of his bed, left there by Santa.

The most important part is what happens next: Family members reading together.

That’s it! That’s the whole idea!

Over the last ten years, working with my local literacy partner Children’s Reading Connection (childrensreadingconnection.org), this campaign has grown to include schools, libraries and bookstores, who have donated scores of books to families that might not have access to them. The goal – and our dream – is that families will experience the intimate and personal connection of diving into and sharing stories, the way my mother and I did throughout her life.

Over the years, important literacy advocates, such as the Librarian of Congress Carla Hayden and LeVar Burton, and bestselling children’s authors Brad Meltzer and Peter Reynolds, have endorsed and helped to spread the good word.

This year is different. So many of us are alone, hurting, and separated from family and familiar holiday routines.

All of us – not just children – need a good book on our beds.

I have broadened the scope to include specific recommendations for books spanning all ages. I’ve reached out to some of my favorite writers, literacy advocates, and independent booksellers across the country for their special picks.

Whether you purchase a book or share an old favorite, I hope you will be inspired to put A Book on Every Bed this year. It is not necessary to make a Christmas deadline – this idea is one to sustain people throughout what might shape up to be a very long winter.

Following are recommendations for all age groups.

Baby and Toddlers: From Brigid Hubberman, Children’s Reading Connection, Ithaca, NY (childrensreadingconnection.org):

“Words are the language of love for babies.  The best books for infants should be about the world they know. Parents should choose books to surround babies with an abundance of loving and delightful words.”

Baby Cakes, by Karma Wilson and Sam Williams

Haiku Baby, by Betsy E. Snyder

Shine Baby Shine, by Leslie Staub and Lori Nichols

Ages 3-5: From Lisa Swaze, Buffalo Street Books, Ithaca, NY (Buffalostreetbooks.com)

“If You Come to Earth,” by Sophie Blackall is one of my favorite picture books of 2020. This book is beautiful both visually and lyrically, and it will feel like a warm hug to any child or family who receives it.

“You Matter,” by Christian Robinson is a bright and elegant book that takes children on a journey around the world to make it clear that everyone matters, and perhaps more importantly, reassure them that they matter, no matter what they look like or where they are from.

Early Readers: From Sandra Dear, owner of The Little Boho Bookshop, in Bayonne, NJ (thelittlebohobookshop.com)

“The Suitcase,” by Chris Naylor-Ballesteros: This beautiful story about immigration, is full of heart and humanity as it teaches our littlest ones about hope, tolerance and kindness.

“Home in the Woods,” by Eliza Wheeler: This stunningly beautiful picture book has fast become a customer favorite. A story about starting over, of overcoming! A story of family, love and joy of being and growing together.

Middle Grade Readers: From Becky Anderson, co-owner of Anderson’s Bookshop, in Naperville, Illinois (andersonsbookshops.com):

“Ways to Make Sunshine,” by Renee Watson: Watson writes her own version of Ramona Quimby, one starring a Black girl and her family, in this start to a charming new middle grade series about spirit, kindness, and sunshine.  Ryan, a fourth grader, finds the positive in difficult situations and when trouble strikes. She is that character to love and bring in the sunshine!  Grades 3-6

Skunk and Badger by Amy Timberlake, illustrated by Jon Klassen: Winnie-the-Pooh and Frog and Toad meet in a fresh take on a classic odd-couple friendship.  Klassen’s illustrations add much to a story of an unlikely friendship that proves that opposites can see the good in one another. The first in a series.  Grades 3-7

“The Silver Arrow,” by Lev Grossman: Kate’s humdrum life is transformed when her eccentric Uncle Herbert brings her a colossal locomotive train, the Silver Arrow, as her eleventh birthday gift, leading her and her younger brother on a mysterious journey.  The train will remind readers of the Hogwart’s Express. A story that is environmentally aware and calls readers to action. Perfect for fans of Roald Dahl and The Chronicles of Narnia.  Grades 3-7

YA Readers: Danielle Kreger, Blue Bunny Books, Dedham, MA (bluebunnybooks.com):  "One of Us is Lying" by Karen M McManus: An edge of your seat mystery that takes place in Bayview High school during detention. Simon, a so-called "outcast," never makes it out of detention alive. What follows is a tale of twists and turns that has the reader questioning the reliability of the characters, and the secrets they keep.

"Burn" by Patrick Ness: A fast-paced young adult fantasy that begins with fifteen-year-old Sarah, who meets Kazimir – a dragon who has been hired to help on her family's farm. Still reeling from the death of her mother, Sarah finds herself feeling an intense and unusual connection with Kazimir. As the story unfolds secrets, dangers and Kazimir's true purpose are revealed.

"The New Kid" by Jerry Craft: A spot-on graphic novel about navigating a new school, new friends and identity. Jordan Banks is in seventh grade when he is sent to a rigorous private school and grapples with staying true to himself- his love for creating cartoons, how to maintain his old friends and how he fits in in a less than diverse new school. A totally lovable and relatable character!

Adult Non-fiction: From Alex George, the author, most recently, of The Paris Hours, founder and director of the Unbound Book Festival, and the owner of Skylark Bookshop, in Columbia, MO (skylarkbookshop.com)

“Wintering,” by Katherine May: This is a deeply personal, quietly beautiful book, written with grace and immense thoughtfulness. We all go through difficult times; by mulling over her responses to her own misfortunes, the author offers insight as to how we might think differently about low points in our lives. Instructive, inspiring, and ultimately profoundly hopeful.

“The Book of Delights,” by Ross Gay: This utterly charming book of micro-essays by Ross Gay, a beloved and renowned poet, is a perfect gift for – well, just about anyone. Gay set himself the challenge of finding one thing that delighted him each day for a year, and then writing about it. The result is a quirky, brilliant book that you can dip in and out of, always finding something to make you smile, and think. A guaranteed lifter of spirits.

“Intimations: Six Essays,” by Zadie Smith: I’ve always loved Zadie Smith’s nonfiction work, and this small but powerful book shows her talents at their finest. Written during the pandemic, these six pieces are sharp, and funny, and thought-provoking. Smith’s deeply personal reflections on this strangest of years is essential reading. If ever there was a book for these strange times, it’s this one.

Adult Fiction: Mark LaFramboise, Senior Book Buyer at Politics and Prose in Washington, DC (politics-prose.com)

“The Butterfly Lampshade,” by Aimee Bender: This is a beautiful story of mental illness, the bonds of sisterhood, and the liveliness of a child's imagination.  Francie is 8 years old when the book begins, the daughter of a single mom.  This is the story of her odyssey after her mother is committed to a mental hospital, and she is sent to be raised by an aunt and uncle.

“Luster,” by Raven Leilani: Edie, the young protagonist in Luster, Raven Leilani's debut novel, is daring, sexy, hilarious, super smart, and drop dead beautiful.  Her affair with a married man takes a turn for the strange when she meets and befriends the man's wife and daughter.  Edie is whip smart because Raven Leilani is whip smart and her voice propels this beguiling novel.

“What Are You Going Through,” by Sigrid Nunez: Sigrid Nunez writes so beautifully that plot feels irrelevant.  The writer's confidence and authority are apparent from the first page.  Ultimately, it's the story of a woman who is asked by an old college acquaintance to be with her when she takes her life, after a cancer diagnosis.  But, like her previous book The Friend (about a woman who inherits a large Great Dane), it doesn't matter what story she tells because her words bristle with life.

Elders: Gayle Shanks, Changing Hands Bookstore, in Tempe and Phoenix, AZ

(changinghands.com)

“Apeirogon,” by Colum McCann: Two fathers, one Palestinian and one Israeli have both lost their young daughters to violence but have decided that reconciliation, not revenge, is what they needed to seek. In the process, they became best friends. McCann describes the insanity and senseless violence bred in the Middle East, the Occupation under which the Palestinians are forced to live, but also the beauty of the country, the migration of birds, the many ways humans overcome adversity and find solace in the natural world and each other. In a series of 1001 fragments, McCann walks us through his imaginary polygon, the Apeirogon of the title, containing an infinite number of sides, an infinite number of gorgeous sentences, and ultimately an infinite number of ways to view the human condition.  

“All the Way to the Tigers,” by Mary Morris: Travel writer Mary Morris’ book, written in small chapters, was in some ways similar to reading Colum McCann's, Aperagon, also written in small bits (in his case 1001, in Mary's -- 112 chapters). Morris travels to India in search of the elusive Bengal tiger, but in so many ways she is searching for herself and her place in the world as she recovers from a serious ankle injury that leaves her debilitated but determined.  

In her short vignettes, she quotes Rilke, Wendell Berry, other writers she admires and reminds us how important it is to listen intently to others as in active listening we are rewarded with deeper understanding.

“The Chair Rocks,” by Ashton Applewhite: From childhood on, we’re barraged by messages that it’s sad to be old. That wrinkles are embarrassing, and old people useless. Author and activist Ashton Applewhite believed them too—until she realized where this prejudice comes from and the damage it does. Lively, funny, and deeply researched, This Chair Rocks traces Applewhite’s journey from apprehensive boomer to pro-aging radical, and in the process debunks myth after myth about late life. The book explains the roots of ageism—in history and in our own age denial. Whether you’re older or hoping to get there, this book will shake you by the shoulders, cheer you up, make you mad, and change the way you see the rest of your life. Age pride!  

[aion-rsa]

Ghosts Series 2: ‘They’re stuck in an existence they didn’t ask for… like all of us’

https://ift.tt/35QzhQ6

The Ghosts creators have worked together for over a decade. To-date, the six-person team (Mat Baynton, Simon Farnaby, Martha Howe-Douglas, Jim Howick, Laurence Rickard and Ben Willbond) have written and performed in long-running children’s sketch comedy Horrible Histories, three series of fantasy sitcom Yonderland, feature film Bill, and two series of the supernatural BBC comedy Ghosts, with a third on the way. 

Channelling Mrs Merton asking Debbie McGee what first attracted her to the millionaire Paul Daniels, I ask Baynton and Howick via Zoom what inspired the group to write Ghosts, a sitcom about a group of individuals who frequently drive each other nuts, trapped together for what may well be eternity? 

Both laugh. “I’m sure we do drive each other nuts in many ways,” says Howick, “but the truth is, like the ghosts, what we always come back to in these episodes is that they love each other and don’t know what they would do without each other. I think that can be said for the group?” He looks to Baynton for confirmation and gets a happy nod. 

Considering the well-documented fallings-out and imploding egos of other comedy gangs – the Pythons not least among them – this level of harmony over such a long period feels remarkable. What’s their secret? “I think we keep each other honest,” says Baynton. “There are certainly heated debates.”

Heated’s too strong a word, says Howick. “We only really fight for our opinion, we never fight each other.” On the rare occasion that there isn’t unanimity about a particular topic, there might be a locking of horns and a democratic vote, but real arguments don’t happen. “There’s no animosity or jealousy with each other’s independent careers,” he explains. “We are our most important project. We have no desire to work each other up. We’re all genuinely fond of each other.”

That much is clear watching them interact. The online BBC press launch for series two was punctuated by the group making each other laugh. Silly voices. Running jokes. At one point, to the absolutely delight of his colleagues, Simon Farnaby’s crotch moved unavoidably front and centre as he stood up in front of his webcam to adjust a window blind. The rapport is real. 

Indeed, during UK lockdown, say Baynton and Howick, the group’s regular Zoom calls drafting Ghosts series three were a godsend. Aside from the boon of having regular work when so much of their industry was in uncertainty, being able to see friends for three hours on a Wednesday evening kept them sane. 

“It’s been a tonic in an otherwise relatively difficult and quite miserable time to have been able to jump on Zoom and make each other laugh with ideas for these characters that we love,” says Baynton. Entertainingly, when the group splits off into writing pairs, each does impressions of the absent characters while drafting dialogue. “It’s funny,” remarks Howick. ‘When we come together as a six, if we’re trying to pitch a positive idea, it’s usually done in a [segues into the regional accent of his upbeat character] Pat voice. Or if it’s a melodramatic idea or if it’s over-the-top, it might be a [Baynton’s Romantic poet character] Thomas voice.” 

Via video chat, it took a little longer for the group’s writing wheels to start turning. Ordinarily a new series would start with two weeks of the gang together in the same room. Stretching that to months of three-hour Zoom calls, fitted in amongst home schooling for the parents among them, was an adjustment. “The energy that you would bring to a room at 10 o’clock in the morning in an office wasn’t there,” says Howick. “You’d have to try and generate this feeling even though everyone was exhausted.”

Howick found himself seeking out frivolity to reach the right frame of mind. He played videogames. “If I sat and thought too hard about what was going on outside my door, it would make me really sad, and so in order to keep a vital part of me going, in order to meet with Mat and the others every Wednesday and keep that bright demeanour, it was good to do that.” The writing momentum started to return with the ease of lockdown, says Baynton. “The simple mental health-saving fact of being able to meet up with family in a garden helped a lot.” 

Read more

Movies

Yonderland: saluting a brilliant fantasy comedy

By Rachel Meaden

TV

The Teleprompter Interview: Katy Wix ‘My First Screen Crush was King Kong’

By Louisa Mellor

Trying to write comedy against a such a serious backdrop of world events also felt uncomfortable, says Baynton. “You feel like it’s almost… immoral is too strong a word, but when there are nurses and doctors and teachers and crucially important people doing the work they do… It felt like an elephant in the room to be tap tap tapping away at a story about another day at Button House and what the ghosts are up to.”

It helped to know how warmly Ghosts series one had been received by its many fans. “What’s touching is when we do get messages from fans who say how much the show means to them. I know how important comedy has been to me in my life, so if we can be that to other people, it doesn’t feel completely frivolous.”

Ghosts, with its colourful selection box of characters (there’s a caveman, a headless Elizabethan, a 17th century witch, an excitable Regency woman-child, an Edwardian snob, a WWII captain, a 1980s scout leader and a 1990s Tory politician) may look frivolous, but series one had moments of real pathos. Baynton is proud of the fact that the series doesn’t shy away from the bleaker side of its ‘dead people’ premise. “If you really interrogate the truth of it – these are people who lived, people who died, people who loved or were thwarted or killed or suffered injustices or never got to love the person that they admired…”

The original idea was for a much bigger cast of ghosts, with everybody playing multiple parts, Horrible Histories-style. It quickly became clear that the story needed to home in on a small ensemble, giving the gang what Howick calls “its own silhouette”. Had they stuck with the original plan, “It would have been like The Muppet Show,” he says. “Every week would only have scratched the surface.” Too many ghost characters would have diminished the show’s emerging premise, says Baynton, which is about “being stuck forever in a tedious and endlessly repetitive existence.”

A bit like lockdown, we joke. Exactly, says Baynton. 

“We talk about this a lot. The way I see it is that their situation is just the same as a living person’s: they’re stuck, they’re in an existence they didn’t ask for, they don’t know why they’re there or what happens next. They know that there is a next ‘thing’ but whether they go to heaven, or hell, or something else, they don’t know. They’re just the same as people on earth.”

Howick agrees, “Their existence is very mortal in that respect.” 

Writing about the afterlife, a sense of existential metaphor is unavoidable, says Baynton. “There is something deeply relatable about it, which is where sitcom will always thrive. You can’t really fail to connect with a story about a person who doesn’t know what to do with their time or who feels stuck. Regardless of class or job or circumstance, that is all of us.”

If the ghost characters are all of us, they’re also peculiar to their time period. The collision and unexpected blending of different social contexts is where much of the series’ comedy comes from. Howick compares the composition of the group to Blackadder Goes Forth, which kept “ranks of characters from different classes stuck together in a hell hole, cheating death every single week.” 

The source of much of the comedy is thwarted status, says Baynton, “It’s the stuff of Alan Partridge and Hyacinth Bucket and Basil Fawlty… people who see themselves a certain way but who aren’t that way to the audience. Every single one of the ghosts is that to some extent. Anything that gave you status in life, you’re robbed of the second you die, so that’s already pretty funny in the sense of a captain who can’t lead, a wealthy woman who has no wealth, a politician who is not recognised as an authority, a poet who can’t pick up a pen, a Scoutmaster with no kids…”

“Not Scoutmaster!” interrupts Howick. “Adventure Club leader!” Before series one aired, they were instructed not to use the “Scouts” organisation name in scripts. “That was before they knew who Pat was going to be,” says Howick. Pat, for info, is a sweetie, and the Scouts should be proud to have him. He’s also a vibrant dancer, as series two, episode two shows. 

“There’s a lot of dancing this series” says Howick. “Without giving too much away, there’s dancing in the last episode. I think Thomas’ best dance is at the end.”

Fans can expect more playfulness with series two. Now that the characters are established and the tone has been taken to heart, the team could afford to experiment a little more. “With series two, because the audience hopefully are with us at this point, we can throw different curveballs,” says Baynton.

“In that way that The Simpsons or those long-running American things, you can suddenly do one in black and white, as if it’s a Hitchcock thing. We’ve definitely had fun. There’s an episode later in the second series which is a format of its own. We’re thinking about those things for series three, being free to be really playful with it.”

There’s a Christmas special episode to come, “the last one ever to be filmed!” joked Farnaby at the press launch. The timing on series two’s filming was especially jammy, with only one day lost to the UK TV and film industry shutdown in March. They made the decision not to use supporting artists in the last scenes filmed, set in a Medieval plague village. The irony of having to tell actors they couldn’t come and play plague victims because there was an actual plague wasn’t lost on them, says Baynton.

Thomas gets a gun in series two, they tease, and we’ll find out how he met his end. “The burning question for fans of the show is how the characters died, and you will find out some in each series,” says Baynton. “There are some we’re holding onto for as long as we possibly can, but rest assured, they’re coming!” 

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Ghosts series 2 starts on BBC One at 8.30pm, with all six episodes available to stream afterwards on BBC iPlayer. 

The post Ghosts Series 2: ‘They’re stuck in an existence they didn’t ask for… like all of us’ appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2RKeoxw

[gyllenhaalstories]

a symphony without harmony, part 1

summary: reader’s ballet company decides to participate in a charity during the holidays. the event consists of recreating the nutcracker, the wonderful ballet inspired by tchaikovskiys symphonies. after months of auditions, reader is chosen for the prestigious role of clara. reader does not know the details of the events, and ignores that the male part will be taken by a celebrity, hoping to attract spotlight for the charity. one could hope for a professionally trained dancer popular in one of those competition shows, but reader is not so pleasantly surprised to find out that tom holland (who’s just that backflipping spider guy in her mind) will be her prince for (maybe more than) one night. 

warnings: terrible representation of ballet, the nutcracker and basically everything, loads of angst and tension, reader is snobby but she’s not cold hearted just give her a chance. 

word count: 1901

note: my suggestion received a lot of support and i’m so happy to bring this idea to life! this will be a 3 or 4 part series. i’m enjoying myself too much with this to keep it short and sweet! please, take in consideration the fact that i know absolutely nothing about ballet. all the references i used in this piece come from barbie movies, so that says a lot. thank you so much for reading, and i hope you like it! i’m aware this is different than what i usually write, so be aware of that!

tags: @skymoonandstardust (thank you so much for your support and i’m sorry for the wait!)

“That was wonderful, Y/N! Thank you for another brilliant performance.” The choreographer applauded you, followed by the producers of the show and the representants of the charity you would be performing for. The rehearsal room was usually empty, without you and a record player to assist. This time was special, the charity event was taking place only a couple of weeks from now and since the auditions were completed, it was time for serious practices.

You danced for the New York City Ballet, perhaps one of the most prestigious company in the entire world. You were a newbie, did not have many friends amongst the veteran dancers, but you proved them you belonged in their clique when you won the audition for Clara, from The Nutcracker. You already knew the dance per heart, you had been practicing since you received your first tutu as a Christmas present. You would hum along Tchaikovsky's music while doing your homework and you had been dreaming every night of dancing along to the symphony in front of a real crowd. 

“We are waiting for our Nutcracker to arrive, he should be there in only a few moments.” The spokesperson of the company explained to the producers and the representants. Everyone seemed nervous. It was understandable, since the mysterious dancer was supposed to be there and witness your performance too. In fact, you two were supposed to meet a long time ago, but he said he was busy. Too busy for the charity, you figured. Too busy to help you make your biggest dream come true, you sighed. 

“I hope our dancer knows that the company does not tolerate lateness.” You commented and went to the corner of the room to take a sip of water. It was only then that the door slammed open and a rather short, muscular guy made his entrance. He was followed by another young man, this one taller and slimmer. He carried a camera and was filming everything the shorter one did. You squinted at the sight. The second one would suit the role better, but if he was filming the first man who walked in, it can only mean…

“Marvelous! Our Prince Eric is here!” Your choreographer exclaimed loudly, his voice resonating against the walls. 

You pressed your lips in a thin line and flattened your skirt in annoyance. Your coach gave you a stern look, and you replied with even more severity. So that exclaimed why they kept his identity secret, they went for the pot of gold and expected you to be fine with it. “The Nutcracker is a ballet, not a YouTube video.” You breathed through your teeth when you recognized the man. 

Tom Holland himself was giving you the warmest smile. He went in for a handshake, but took his arm back when he noticed that you denied him. He looked to the other guy, as if to tell him to cut that part of whatever he was filming. “What’s up? I’m Tom. And that’s my brother, Harry. He likes making videos, so I brought him along.” His tone of voice seemed calm and poised, although he was freaking out. He had only heard the best compliments about you, his dancer partner. To be honest, he was intimidated and your attitude was not helping. 

“Y/N.” You breathed out and tightened your hair bun nonchalantly. “We only film our performances hoping to work on our flaws, we don’t film stuff for fun.” 

The noticeable disdain in your voice earned you another warning from your choreographer. “Miss, please. Would you mind doing your solo again? I bet mister Holland here would love to see it.” 

“If mister Holland wanted to see it, he had to be on time.” You crossed your arms against your chest, but still walked towards the center of the room. “There’s one plié I want to work on, so I’ll do it again and see if I can improve it.” 

Just like that, you were dancing to the symphony from the Dance of the Sugar-Plum fairy. Tom barely had time to get out of the way before you swayed around him, owning the dancefloor like no one was watching. Harry pulled on his sleeve and indicated to come and sit by the empty chairs in the front, so they could all get a better view of your flawless performance. The beautiful music filled everyone’s ears and their eyes were pleased by this light pink ballerina dancing around like a professional. 

And that was exactly what you were: a professional. You had to admit you could have given Tom a better welcome, but you could not wrap your mind around the fact that this was an important charity event, hosted in front of the prestigious elite of New York City. It was the opportunity of a lifetime and you were hoping to book a contract or two after your performance. You were disappointed when you recognized the actor, this almost impostor. It was probably just another appearance for him, not different from a silly Buzzfeed interview or a meaningless question and answer session after a photoshoot. Whilst, for you, it was quite possibly the only chance you would ever get to be in Clara’s ballet shoes for one night. 

Tom sprung up on his feet to cheer you. Him alone was louder than the bravo’s you heard earlier from everyone else. And his brother captured it all. “That was sick, dude!” Tom congratulated you, his accent gaining a sudden American tone to it. “I have lots of work to do to be on your level.” He confessed with an apologetic giggle. The representants assured him he would be able to do justice to the part, but he still looked uncertain. 

Everyone agreed it was the perfect moment to put an end to this first meeting and you soon grabbed your belongings, rushing to the door to change into your clothes, before Tom cut you off. 

“Hey, Y/L, right? That was great, what you did!” Tom was standing in front of you, looking fidgety and nervous. “I was hoping, you know, you could show me a thing or two. Only if you have time for it, and if you want to! I didn’t know… Woah, I didn’t know this was so serious!” 

“It’s the New York City Ballet, were you expecting a fiasco?” You laughed at your own comment, but finally took a moment to breathe deeply. “I guess I can make time for you. You have a lot to learn if you thought I was going to suck.” You gave him a shrug and you looked at him from head to toe. He seemed to have dressed into something comfortable enough to dance and the effort warmed your cold behavior. “I expected a dancer, forgive me for the surprise.” 

The English man chuckled at your last comment. “I dance! I mean, I used to. I did gymnastics too. My parents would always take me to watch ballets, but I was not flexible enough to pursue anything… So I went with my other passion.” For some reason, he felt like he had to prove himself to you. He had to prove you wrong, in some way. 

He left you impressed, to say the least. You did not know much about the guy, but there was something to work with. “Which is shooting webs from your wrists and develop an unhealthy obsession with spiders, I believe.”

“You’re a serious one, aren’t ya, darling?” 

“This is my moment of glory. I would be stupid not to take it seriously.” 

Tom had a million of questions to ask you. What do you love about dancing? When did you start, what was your favorite choreography, why did you pick New York, why you wore your hair in a bun even for informal rehearsals, why you were not in pain when you went on the tip of your toes, why you did a jeté so easily… The list went on and Harry documented all of it. He wanted to get to know you because it was important for him to build a friendship with all of his co-stars and that was how he saw you, as a star. The more you two discussed, over stretching and pirouettes, the less intimidated he became, but the more admiration he had for you. 

It would be a lie to say you did not enjoy his dedication to your art. He tried countless times a movement he did not get right on the first attempt and he listened to the tips you gave him about flexibility. He was willing to learn, which took you off guard. When you recognized the movie star, you were expecting to see a walking ego and the most arrogance ever contained in one small body, but he was… Nice. Maybe this whole thing was salvageable. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.” Tom sighed and fell into a starfish position on the floor, after trying his best to reach his toes while leaning forward. “I used to do that everyday when I was five! And now it feels like I climbed the Everest mountain.” 

You let a chuckle escape your lips when you stood up and offered him a hand. He accepted it, not without hesitating, and you shrugged. “All you gotta do is fake it till you make it. We’re all in pain here, but we don’t let it show.” 

“So… Basically act like I’m having the time of my life?” He sounded so proud of the association between dancing and acting.

“Exactly. Keep that in mind for the big show and we might get out of there alive.” You laughed again. 

His muscles lost their tension when he heard you laugh for the second time. Your facade was falling down, and he was pleased to meet a human being underneath the stereotypical robotic ballerina. “I know another neat trick to fight the pain.” 

Both Harry and you spinned on your feet and looked at Tom’s burst of confidence. “And that is..?” 

“Hanging out at a pub, a café, or something.” 

You fought the urge to smile and shook your head. “I have more things to do. I need to stop by the costumes to get my dress adjusted and I need to buy new shoes…” 

“Come on, dear! It’s already so late and I’m surprised you’ve not given up already on the helpless cause that I am. You deserve a break.” He jumped like an excited child. “It’s my treat!” 

And with that, everything you had planned for the night, all of the extra stretches and exercises by the bar you installed in your living room vanished. “Only if you promise to be here on time for the next practice, and in proper apparel.” 

“Sounds like a deal to me!” He helped you carry your things outside of the rehearsal room. “Wait, do you mean I gotta wear thights?” 

“Oh, the full thing. Thights, shoes… And a bright pink tutu. Take it or leave it.” You smirked at him and, to your surprise, he seemed more enthusiastic than ever. 

“If I wore a thong for months while filming Spider-Man, I can live with the most obnoxious tutu you can find!” 

“You won’t be disappointed, mister Holland.” You nodded, accepting the dare. 

“Neither will you.” He promised. “I will not disappoint you.” 

[rem289]

Q: Why are you writing this post?

A: Because during the Christmas holidays I started to receive attention from the Zootopia fandom which led me to re-discover some concepts that I thought I had made clear, and since this didn’t turn out to be true, I am forced to reiterate them.

Q: What happened?

A: I discovered that someone had reposted, obviously without my consent, an old comic of Aoimotion and mine on reddit, a site I don't like and on which I had already said not to publish my actually and old contents. This repost "reminded" this fandom of my existence, and after this event some people came to ask us questions such as "when Nick and Judy would reappear in our work?" and the like.

You can imagine how much it bothered me, so I went to reddit and wrote to immediately delete the content. Unfortunately, doing this I couldn’t help but notice how the post had become a place to waste insinuations and insults aimed at me and Aoimotion. In particular, the comments of three users stood out: @ggctuk , @owningsuperset7​ and @hammytotherescue

Q: Why did these users get your attention?

A: ggctuk, which I have no idea who they are, have proclaimed themselves as the narrative voice of the events that have taken place between us and the fandom, providing a lot of incomplete and, in the worst case, completely wrong information, about why we left the fandom and about the alleged "abusive behaviors" we had against translators.

Owningsuperset7 spoke about us (like he does every time the occasion presents itself to him), defining us ungrateful towards the fandom "that had fed us". But "fed" in what sense? It seems to me that we have been those who have definitely "eaten" very little… or likes can be monetized, just like the views on youtube, and I didn't know it? Did they break the keyboard in order to put those likes on our works? If it’s so, I'm sorry, but I certainly wasn't the one who pointed the gun at their head to follow my work. Always remember that paying attention to a work is always and only a reader’s choice. No creator has power over these phenomena, we just create and publish, the rest is always an unknown factor. So expressing yourself as a seduced and abandoned lover on an old and free work doesn’t make you a victim, it only makes you ridiculous. Anyway, I know the subject, who had already decided in the past to talk on DeviantArt before I blocked him, and I decided not to tell him anything in that moment, also because, what can you say to a person who clearly has problems that go beyond fandom? Sometimes ignoring is the kindest choice you can make.

Hammytotherescue instead claimed that he and I were friends in the past, before the duo formed by me and aoimotion became toxic. Since I had no memory of this person and I hate when someone alludes to relationships with me that don't exist, I wrote to him privately on Tumblr asking him if he could kindly refresh my memory about this "friendship" he was bragging about.

Q: How did it end?

A: The conversation, which I report below because I, unlike him, have nothing to be ashamed of, is as follows:

As you can see, Hammy never replied to my last message . But in reality the story was not over. A few days ago, in fact, I discover that the user in question "vented" in the post of reddit, not under my comment (so that I received notification of his reply) but in response to another comment that had been left to me. Showing, as always, the incredible maturity of these people.

After reading this comment, I decided to act by reporting the user on reddit, but the answer I received can be summarized as: "since you are a content creator, you deserve insults regardless." In short, a response as useful and smart as the people who gave it to me. So don’t worry Hammy, you won't be banned from reddit because the only braincell shared by you users agrees that defining a toxic and manipulative person is, to quote one of the wise moderators I talked to, "a fairly typical level of criticism". All is well that ends well.

Q: You mentioned "concepts to reiterate". What would they be?

A: Let's start by denying what ggctuk wrote in that reddit's post, given how much popularity his comments have gained.

My split from this fandom started because I simply lost interest in Nick and Judy and preferred to do something else, something of my own. Black Jack gave us the opportunity to invent many original characters and they was those I wanted to work on. We have never worked for ulterior motives other than having fun together. When we recognized that we no longer have anything to give to this universe, we declared it openly and closed this chapter of our "artistic life". This split could take place in a peaceful and calm way, I would have taken my own path and you yours, since it was obvious, since BJ times, that you had very little interest in our original contents. You also reiterated this between the lines of these last comments, so really, I make a terrible effort to understand your logic of contents belonging to your fandom. It's not your fault, don't worry. You have been spoiled by this entrenched habit of creating any anthropomorphic animal and attributing it to your precious and super-nutritive fandom. Once you labeled this attitude at heresy, now everything is fine as long as it helps you keeping this universe going, honestly, I just pity you. However it seems that your obsession with me prevents you from accepting the fact that my life would have continued even without this fandom and that I would have lived very well even without the amount of likes that fanarts could give me. Indeed my life would be even more beautiful if I didn't have to waste time like I am doing now.

Both me and aoimotion together gave you a lot, and in the end we simply got it back. Jack is a prime example: yes, he is a character born from the scratches of Zootopia's artwork, but thanks to our work he has evolved to the point of becoming a completely original character. This fandom has not been able to accept it and until the end has tried to claim him as its own, and even now it can’t accept that we have instead taken him back, and even less can you bear that we are successfully using him in our original works, which is why you insist so much on his "Disney" origin, as if this defines his identity, and for months you have made fun of us saying that we were claiming something that belongs to Disney as our own. Unfortunately, beyond a doodle and a hint of a hypothetical background, Disney has absolutely nothing. Whatever weight you have attributed to "Jack Savage" is only thanks to our work, Disney has nothing to do with your mania and it has nothing to do with everything we've built up over the years. Still, you took our job and stuck it over the "Disney" label, and that was even when Black Jack was long gone, so don’t use that excuse anymore. You even tried to attribute Cynthia to the Disney universe by calling her "Skye", since you are so desperate to keep your fantasies going, and when you had nothing more to say, you said that my art style was "clearly inspired by Disney". Did you think I could condone such an attitude? I suppose these statements derive above all from the certainly very poor culture that you have of the world outside the fandom (or fandoms), however there are artists who WORKED for Disney, who TEACHED drawing techniques at the Disney Academy and who work at own productions with that style, without anyone attributing anything to the major. If you don't believe me, try using the web for something constructive, like doing some in-depth research on the subject.

As for the matter of our alleged abuses on translators, I will only say two things: the translations started because of my naivety, and we prohibited them because the translators abused their role and went out of control, acting as if the comics belonged to them and / or as if there was a special relationship of complicity between me and them. I'm sorry I gave false hopes to these people, unfortunately I didn't have time to realize the misunderstandings that were being created and how our work was being used. There is a clear difference between the fan content and the original content, so now more than even, less our work passes into the hands of others, the better it is for us.

Now let’s analyzing the brilliant messages of Hammy, both on Tumblr and on reddit:

In both cases, what I see is a desperate need to cling to Rem's "pretty" facade while simultaneously demolishing the person behind Aoimotion. These insinuations suggest that the only possible Rem to conceive for your narrow minds is the kind and lovely one, and everything I say and do that does not fall within this definition is the work of aoimotion.

I will never go into detail about the dynamics between me and her, because frankly it’s not your business and I don’t want to give you further ground to cultivate your absurd speculations and your degenerated ideas. If you have decided to treat us as two two-dimensional characters of some fourth category fan fiction born from your fragile minds and then feel disappointed or offended by my attitude or a severe response I can give you, you cannot help but blame yourself and not who is my friend .

But you have to get it into your heads that when you talk about us in a personal way, you refer only on the basis of two web profiles. You don't know us personally and above all you don't know me. Being an extremely reserved person, I always decided to use social networks to share my artistic side or my interests related to entertainment, nothing more, nothing less. "Rem289" has always been only a blog, a showcase on the web, I’ve never attributed a real emotional and above all personal value to it, even before Zootopia. For the rest I prefer to live my personal life off the web. Unfortunately, you have been so careless as to decide to hit my personal sphere, my friendships and my affections. So no, Aoi didn’t take over between you and me, but the person behind Rem289 took over and you paid the consequences.

Still on the subject of aoimotion, it seems that the moment this comment was written on DA has remained particularly impressed: https://www.deviantart.com/comments/1/765376682/4647911119

This great insult, which among other things is attributed to her as if I didn’t think the same (if not worse) about you, has become the new reason why aoimotion is ugly and bad and is the reason why she deserves to be insulted and disparaged at the slightest opportunity, even during a conversation with me in which she’s not involved in any way.

Now, since this term seems to me rather dated to be used as a matter of indignation during your debates, and since I still find it rather ”soft” to use to outline my intolerance towards you, in order to give you another thing to think over, I will give you an attribute which seems more correct to me: you are sick. Confronting you is like talking to someone who has been brainwashed. You are a broken record that always says the same things over and over again. I can't even feel sorry for you, what I feel is just a great sense of unease. (Of course there are people that still participate in this fandom and are perfectly normal, but those are exceptions and they already know we think good of them.)

And it’s precisely your illness that prompted me to dissociate myself so violently from the fandom. Not aoimotion, as you have been saying for months between an insult and another that you address to her because perhaps you are too afraid of me to address them directly to me, which is rather contradictory since I should be the sweet and pretty one of the duo. After all, it's better to treat me like a poor brainless fool who lets herself be manipulated rather than admit that I also have my own ideas and that, you don’t say, you don't like them.

Q: In any case, you have no right to deprive your fans of old content they love so much, you just want to be spiteful! Why did all your old WildeHopps comics disappear from the web?

A: The decision to delete the contents created by me relating to the fandom from my web platforms or those shared with my partner was not born in the least out of spite or "punishment" towards the members of the fandom. It was a decision made to dissociate my name and my current work from fandom, because unfortunately it created difficulties for my image and real difficulties for readers to understand (you can go on and say that if people think your work is still Zootopia-related is not a big deal, but I assure you it is). All that came after, are only and exclusively speculations built on purpose to find the most sinister reasons of why it happened. Publishing content is only an accessory part of the job itself, a percentage of the process. Deciding to publish, not publish or cancel a publication is at the pure expense of the author, and no consumer has the right to impose his will on the creator. I understand that they are perhaps too complex concepts for you, since it’s clear that you are used to measuring the value of things based on the likes they receive, but this current of thought also exists and I hope it will be useful to you someday, in the remote possibility that decide to take moments of deep reflection (which would be more and more useful than tapping your fingers on the keyboard).

(Little curiosity: in the last few weeks we have forwarded about twenty reports to various sites to remove our old contents posted there without our permission. Not only all twenty reports have been accepted, but the contents have all been removed in less than 12 hours from the date of reporting. This is to remind you that if we don’t want our content on the web, we have them removed and it’s the reposters who pay for it, not us.)

Q: Well, however you can't force us not to talk badly about you or aoimotion, in fact, you can't stop us from believing that she's been manipulating you for years. Almost certainly it’s she who is writing this post without your knowledge, isn't it?

A: The people of the web are notoriously lazy and are therefore often uninformed and constipated in developing their own concepts. They spit sentences without even knowing what they’re talking about, they choose "comfortable" truths, such as the fact of attributing to aoimotion every not nice word that comes from me, and when this phenomenon is reflected on real persons, unfortunately it’s quite difficult to manage.

We are attributed with labels, words, concepts, faults, relationships that don’t belong to us and that are difficult to get away from. A simple comment or a wrong statement towards a person can spread like wildfire and end up marking them for life. Needless to say, these conditions often prevent these same people from continuing with their activities, which instead are healthy, in a serene and peaceful way. Even now, instead of drawing, I’m writing this latest post to defend me and my partner from your sick slanders. Those who allow themselves the luxury of damaging the "active personalities" of the web are people who fully enjoy anonymity behind a screen, and often people who have the matter of regulating them (like the reddits moderators, who are a joke at best) limit themselves to considering certain behaviors "ordinary” in the creator / consumer relationship. The mere fact of normalizing certain behaviors doesn’t smooth out the rules of civilized life, makes these "authorities" complicit and therefore only adds a problem. It’s more than evident that some people are not yet able to distinguish the boundary that exists between objective opinion and direct and personal insult, but from people who lose sleep at night because they have been defined as “lunatic” I don’t expect anything less. Who knows what you will do now that I have called you sick.

I conclude with a message to the interested party:

@hammytotherescue​: I don't know how old you are, however, judging by what you write and how you write it and how you act, I deduce that you should not be more than 14-15 years old. Unfortunately I regret to tell you that the fact you are a minor doesn’t mean that you don’t have to take responsibility for your actions, and if you still have doubts about understanding where you have gone wrong I advise you to ask your parents for advice. I gave you the opportunity to confront me but you ran away to cry on a public platform. Hasn't anyone taught you that real life doesn't work like that? If, on the other hand, you are an adult, I sincerely feel sorry for you, I say this from the bottom of my heart.

I know how comfortable it is to hide behind a group or in this case a fandom to vent one's dislikes towards the individual. This time you and your friends have received the same treatment, you have not caught generic appellations addressed to the fandom but I decided to speak to you personally. My only advice is to use this experience to learn how it behaves on the web, and when you have learned it, you could teach it to all your friends, perhaps starting with @owningsuperset7​.

For @ggctuk: I hope you will appreciate my effort in writing this long post, as so the next time you talk about us again, you can use it as a reference to explain how things went 🤗

[drvinyl]

INTERVIEW: NUUXS airs her Laundry, her latest release.

Words by Charlotte Christie  

Whether it’s Daniel Day Lewis, Don Henley or Dot Cotton; if there’s an important conversation to be had, it’ll be in the laundrette. Equally, they are places where you can sit in silence while reality is muted by spin cycles and steam. However, French born NUUXS’s new single, Laundry, tells a different story. In just under 3 minutes she captures one mother’s sacrifice, stress and thin skin. I caught up with her to chat about her new single, Shania Twain and future projects.  

For those discovering NUUXS for the first time, where does the name come from?  

NUUXS is actually my nickname which I’ve adopted through my friends and is short for my given name “Anouck”.  

Every artist has their own reasons for why they do what they do, but what is it that drives you to make music? Do you remember what first inspired you?

I remember singing to myself as a child and always making melodies in my head, writing poetry on scraps of paper, performing in front of my big sister and also with friends in school. It always was something that’s was a part of my identity but it wasn’t until I got into my late teens that I decided I wanted to be a songwriter and a singer. I started off in an indie band and also wrote books for MC’s that I went to school with. Later I sang covers in jazz clubs and sang backing vocals for a few people. Becoming my own artist was a journey and I didn’t get there straight away.  

Your latest release Laundry is brilliant. Can you tell us more about the track? How is it personal to you? Is there a particular story that inspired it?  

Thank you so much- it’s so great to hear such amazing feedback. This song is very personal to me because it touches base on my personal upbringing but also lots of other people who find themselves lost growing up, money issues, divorced parents and seeing them work insanely hard jobs for next to nothing. Life is tough but we can turn it around and it’s all about community and how we can help each other collectively. It’s so important we all understand the responsibility we all have to one another as human beings.  

Who or what is your greatest influence?

I have so many but I would have to say my life experiences of going through so many crazy things I have so much to draw from. I’m influenced by strong women, I love Lizzo, FKA Twigs, Sia, Robyn and I love Amal Clooney too.  

What do you hope people will take away from your music?  

I hope that people can relate to what im saying in my music even though sometimes we feel disconnected through our differences, we all feel the same things, we laugh and cry and we doubt, dream, we are heartbroken and we fall in love, each song has a personal experience but in the end there is always hope and I think that’s what will connect the most and give a sense of togetherness.

What band/artist would you like to cover one of your songs?  

Nice question! I’ve never been asked that before- I would love to hear “Laundry” sung by The Weeknd.  

Best piece of advice you have received?  

Shania Twain once told me to try everything and always give it your best shot.  

Future plans? Any ongoing projects? Has The pandemic affected your plans?  

Well my album is being released in March 2021 so it hasn’t really been affected however I had to work with an animator Charlie Cross to create my music videos. I’m so glad I did because I love the creativity and uniqueness of his style. I’m really looking forward to singing live again so watch this space. I also have a few more singles up my sleeve. To add to that I played one of the leads “Maya” in a new cult classic called “Clay’s Redemption” directed by Carlos Boellinger-my debut acting role along side Akie Katobe known for “Mad Men” and “Everly” with Salma Hayek. I also played alongside Magdalena Sverlander who is known for “The Crown Witness” and “Treadstone”. Lots of more exciting things coming up which I can’t share yet!

Finally… Fancy a spot of word association? Let’s use your work to inspire it. Right..here goes…

Water? Hot Tub

Laundry? Bubbles

SPF? Hot

Safe? Lock

Patient? Love

Alive? Kicking  

Snowflakes? Christmas

Red? Lipstick

Listen to Laundry now: https://slinky.to/Laundry

[padfootagain]

Hello everyone! It is that cold time of the year again in the northern hemisphere, and I am here to bring you the cuteness we all deserve! I made an event with that theme last year that worked very well, so, I'm going to make another one this year! (I think I'll make a tradition out of it, tbh, because it is a lot of fun to write!!)

I'm also taking this opportunity to thank all of you, my lovely followers, for your love and support. There are almost 3.8k of you these days reading my crazy nonsense. Thank you all so much! I hope you all have a wonderful and magical winter time.

But enough chatting! Let's explain this new devilish plan of mine!!

 Carole, what is this all about?!

 Usually, when I make an event, I let you choose the characters, sometimes some prompts too or other similar things to guide the story, but I'm the one choosing what happens. This time, it's gonna be the other way around!

You're going to choose the tropes, and I'm gonna choose the characters!

How is this gonna work? Easy. I have gathered a little list of common wintery/Christmasy prompts. You will vote for your favourite trope. The five tropes that raised the most votes will be used to write a story for the characters of my choosing.

But you have another job too!

I will not write just five fics. I will write more (I will also save some tropes of the list that weren't chosen and that I feel inspired by, so if your favourite trop was not chosen, there is still a chance that I might write it anyway!), and I will also choose some of the tropes that you will propose for me to write! You will vote for your favourite trope on the list at the end of this post, but you can also propose a prompt that is not featured on the list (and I warmly invite you to do that, I am counting on you all to help me on this!!). I'll pick up my favourite tropes for me to write out of your propositions :)

 What tropes can we propose?

 Anything that you would like! The event is placed under the sign of cuteness, so I will try to favour them, but angst is welcome too. You can literally send me any idea you have that can take place during winter time. And for those of you who live where, at this time of year, it's sunny and warm, then you can still send me prompts with that weather! (If you can tell me where you are, I can make it happen in your country then!) So, if for you, the Christmas tradition is to go surfing, then give me a prompt with that!

The tropes can be anything you think of, a classic I forgot, something you do at that time of the year... anything. I just need a trope. What do I mean by a trope? Just take a look at the list below, it should help you see what I am looking for.

To submit a trope, send me an ask through my askbox! Anon or not, I don't mind, but it is easier for me to keep track of my messages using the asks rather than the pms or comments on this post. You can submit as many tropes as you like.

I will probably keep the tropes in my askbox, if you want to check if I have received your trope alright (as we all know how reliable Dumblr is, these days), don't hesitate to ask me if I received it alright by sending me another message (askbox or pms).

Remember two rules though: I do not write smut, and I do not write about children dying, so these kind of tropes are banned. For the rest, send whatever you'd like!

 What about the votes?

 Send me an ask to vote! Here again, it's easier for me to keep track of all the messages I receive if I get everything through my askbox. Anon or not, it doesn't matter, so if you're shy, just switch to anon!

You can vote for only two tropes! So choose wisely. You obviously can vote only once, or it's cheating.

 You can vote and propose a trope, you can vote and propose several tropes, you can vote and send me a trope a few days later, you can only vote and finally you can only send a trope. It depends on how you would like to participate :)

 But then, which characters are you going to choose, Carole?

 I have that power this time, I am choosing which characters will go through all that adorable, tooth-rooting fluff. However, I obviously keep your happiness in mind. Which is why I will make sure to choose characters of different fandoms, so that everyone is represented and you can all read about a character you like! I will also make sure to write for my most popular characters, obviously. I want to make as many people happy as I can!

 When is this cuteness going to be poured upon us?!

 You have four days from now on to vote and offer me tropes for this event. So, the votes will be closed on November 13 at 6pm, Paris hour.

I will then start posting fics, from mid-november all the way to January. Depending on how tired of it I am, I will stop either after New Year's Eve, or who knows, maybe only at the end of winter!

What is for certain is that, until the next decade is upon us, I will be posting one fic for my event (at least) every week! So you will have a good dose of absolute cuteness :)

At this rhythm, I'm counting at least 8 fics (but let's be honest, I'll write more than 8 fics with that theme, you know me, I love winter!).

 So, to sum up!

 You have until November 13 to vote or submit tropes for this event.

You can vote for your favourite trope among the list below, and I will write a fic for the character I will choose using the 5 tropes that gathered the most votes.

You can also submit a trope of your own, I will choose my favourite ones amongst the ones I have chosen.

One fic every week at least, until the new year!

You can stay on anon or not, just think about sending me your message through my askbox, or your vote/submission will not be taken into account.

 I hope you all have fun with this event! Have a lovely winter, and a Merry Christmas!

List of the tropes you can choose from :

-        Fake dating AU : Oh no! You need a fake boyfriend/girlfriend for the holidays, or your parents will never shut up about you coming alone!

-        Snowstorm: You are both stuck, alone, in the middle of nowhere, and it's snowing too hard outside to go anywhere. Brilliant. What on earth are you going to do, waiting for the storm to wane?

-        Blanket: it's freezing, and there is only one blanket. You might die frozen, who knows... Guess you two will have to share…

-        Cookies: baking cookies and gingerbread for Christmas! It turns ill quickly though. Who was the first one to throw flour at the other?

-        Snowball: the snowball fight is merciless, just the way it should be.

-        Shopping: Shopping for presents is hell. Or is it?

-        Fall: Oh no! It was slippery! And you fell… on them… dear, you two are very close… why is your heart dancing the samba like that?

-        One bed: You're stuck in an hotel. Only one room left. And there's only one bed…

-        Freezing: No blanket. No fire. Nothing to keep warm. What can you do, except cuddle… huh… I mean… share body-warmth?

-        Lazy: It's snowing outside. But it's warm in your home. A lazy afternoon cuddling and watching snowflakes sounds lovely.

-        Dog issue: Your dog has run off! Across that field! You're running after him, and pouf! The next thing you know, you've fallen in snow. You're damped and cold, you guess you have to accept the help of your lovely neighbour to help get you warm again.

-        Decorating the tree: It's so lovely to decorate the Christmas tree together!

-        Neighbour: you can't carry that big tree on your own. Or maybe you're missing an ingredient for the family dinner. Guess you'll have to ask that lovely neighbour of yours some help…

-        Gift: You open your gifts together, and it's perfect!

-        First Christmas: It's your first Christmas together. It's a little strange, but also so cute!

-        Alcohol: Ha, partying for the new year. Of course. You're a little drunk though, so I guess they will have to take care of you.

-        Oops: One of you has had a little too much to drink for the new year. And none of you meant to confess what has been confessed but… oops.

-        Walk in the snow: Just a cute afternoon spent exploring through the cold

-        Happy New Year!: It is a tradition to kiss the person next to you for New Year's Eve when midnight strikes. Right?

-        Carols: It started as a ridiculous karaoke, you're not sure when it turned into dancing together.

-        Mistletoe: Where does that mistletoe come from? But now, you're both under it, and well, guess you have to kiss. You know, for… hmm… the sake of traditions.

-        Kids: Christmas morning with your children

-        Resolutions: you write down your list of good resolutions for the new year together.

-        Ice-skating: you go ice-skating together, and there are a lot of falling involved, but a lot of giggles too.

-        Secret Santa: You have organized a secret santa at work. What you don't know, is that your crush and you have picked up each other's name.

[blackkudos]

Benjamin Mays

Benjamin Elijah Mays (August 1, 1894 – March 28, 1984) was an American Baptist minister and civil rights leader who is credited with laying the intellectual foundations of the Civil Rights Movement. Mays taught and mentored many influential activists: Martin Luther King Jr, Julian Bond, Maynard Jackson, and Donn Clendenon, among others. His rhetoric and intellectual work focused on notions of nonviolence and civil resistance–beliefs inspired by the teachings of Mahatma Gandhi. The peak of his public influence occurred during his almost thirty years as the 6th President of Morehouse College, a historically black institution of higher learning.

Mays was born in the Jim Crow South on a repurposed cotton plantation to freed sharecroppers. He traveled North to attend Bates College and the University of Chicago from where he began his career in activism as a pastor in the Shiloh Baptist Church in Atlanta, Georgia. After a brief career as a professor, he was appointed as the Dean of the School of Religion at Howard University in 1934 which elevated him to national prominence as a proponent of the New Negro movement. Six years later, Mays was elected as the president of Morehouse College, an at-the-time financially unstable enterprise. Over his tenure from 1940 to 1967, the college's financial endowment was doubled and enrollment quadrupled; it was established as a leading liberal arts college in the United States.

Due to the relative smallness of the college, Mays mentored and taught many students, most notably King. His connection with King spanned his early days at the college in 1944. King was known as Mays' "spiritual son" and Mays his "intellectual father." After King's famous "I Have A Dream" speech at the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom on August 28, 1963, Mays gave the benediction. Upon the 1968 death of King, he was asked to give the eulogy where he described him in his "No Man is Ahead of His Time" speech. Mays stepped down from the presidency in 1967 continuing to work as a leader in the African American community. He presided over the Atlanta Board of Education from 1969 to 1978, where he initiated the desegregation of Atlanta.

Mays' contributions to the civil rights movement have had him hailed as the "movement's intellectual conscience" or alternatively the "Dean [or Schoolmaster] of the Movement". Historian Lawrence Carter described Mays as "one of the most significant figures in American history". Hundreds of streets, buildings, statues, awards, scholarships, grants, and fellowships are named in his honor. Numerous efforts have been brought forward to posthumously award Mays the Presidential Medal of Freedom as well as feature him on a U.S. postage stamp.

Early life

Early life and ancestry

Benjamin Elijah Mays was born on August 1, 1894 in Epworth, South Carolina, in the small town of Ninety Six, South Carolina, the youngest of eight children. His mother, Louvenia Carter Mays, and father, Hezekiah Mays, were born into slavery on Virginia and South Carolina plantations, respectively. Both were freed in their later lives with the passage of the 1863 Emancipation Proclamation. Mays' father often hit him, his siblings and Louvenia growing up, expressing anger about how he was treated by his master. The "Mays" family name was derived from their slaver and owner's name, Henry Hazel Mays; he owned 14 slaves in the same area. Hezekiah worked as a cotton sharecropper to generate income for his family.

Mays was told to be cautious of white people and exhibit black pride whenever possible growing up. Mays' older sister, Susie, began to teach him how to read before his formal schooling commenced, which gave him a year's growth in reading compared to the other students in his primary schools. School officials cited him as "destined for greatness." Growing up, he went by the nickname "Bennie" and was inspired by Fredrick Douglass, Booker T. Washington, and Thomas E. Miller. The Bible was influential to young Mays because he could see his name (of Biblical origins) mentioned frequently, instilling a feeling of empowerment within. During this time, Benjamin Tillman rose to power in South Carolina which saw to the redoubling of lynching and segregation in Mays' neighborhood. Throughout his tenure as governor, 18 black men were lynched and dozens were hurt in the 1876 shoot-off. On November 8, 1898, members of the Phoenix Riot–a white suprematist mob–rode up on horses to the Mays household, a repurposed cotton plantation. They drew their guns at Mays' father and told him to remove his hat and bow down to them. The event would stay with Mays throughout his life. A year later, white mobs and Ku Klux Klan members searched his house in search of relatives after local newspapers announced that cotton prices had plummeted.

Early education

In 1911, he was enrolled at the Brick House School in Epworth, a Baptist-sponsored school. He then transferred to the High School Department of South Carolina State College in Orangeburg. He graduated in 1916, aged 22 as its valedictorian. In high school, teachers often let Mays instruct parts of the mathematics curriculum to students in exchange for extra credit. He won awards for debate and mathematics. A teacher at the school had told Mays to seek graduate school at the University of Chicago as he thought the school would best nurture Mays' intellect. However, before attending graduate school Mays needed to seek an undergraduate education. His relatives and teachers forced him to attend a Baptist university–the Virginia Union University. He grew weary of the violence against blacks in Virginia so he sought the guidance of his academic advisors at Virginia Union. They advised him to look into schools in the North as they were typically seen as more prestigious, challenging, and prominent than those of the South.

Four professors at the university had attended Bates College in Lewiston, Maine and urged Mays to apply. However, its exacting standards prohibited him from attending. After a year more in Richmond, Mays elevated his grades to the top of his class and wrote personally to Bates president George Colby Chase. Chase granted him a full financial aid package and boarding upon hearing his story and reviewing his academic background. Virginia Union's president warned him that studies at Bates would be "too hard for a colored boy" and that he should stay in Virginia. Mays ignored his warnings and enrolled in 1917, aged 23. While at Bates he felt pressure to compete with "Yankees at the Yankee level" which drove him to dedicate him to his studies. He would write in a diary: "Yankee superiority was the gauntlet thrown down. I had to pick it up." Working to midnight weekly and arising at 4 AM, Mays excelled at Greek, mathematics, and speech. Although he would experience little racism in college, upon seeing The Birth of a Nation in a local cinema, the crowd cheered for the white slaver which frightened Mays. In college, he was captain of the debate team, played on the football team and served as the Class Day Speaker. He graduated with departmental honors with a B.A. in 1920. Contrary to popular writing and official college records, Mays never received Phi Beta Kappa; his attendance of a "school from the South" disqualified him.

Marriages

Shortly after graduation, he married his first wife, Ellen Edith Harvin, in August 1920 in Newport News, Virginia. The two met when Mays was still in South Carolina and wrote to each other frequently. She was a home economics teacher at a local college before she died after a brief illness two years after they married at age 28. He met his second wife, Sadie Gray, while working at South Carolina State College. After months of courtship, they married on August 9, 1926. Mays was secretive about his relationship with his second wife; he burned the majority of letters and correspondence between them.

Early academic career

On January 3, 1921, he then entered the University of Chicago as a graduate student, earning an M.A. in 1925. Early on in his academic career he decided to join Omega Psi Phi, a national fraternity for colored men. This organization was known for pooling resources and information among its members so Mays viewed it with great interest. Mays viewed it as "a mountain top from which he could see above and beyond". In 1924, upon hearing news that there was to be a fraternity meeting in St. Louis, Missouri, Mays traveled by train. However, his decision to travel first class from Birmingham to St. Louis was indirectly against the Jim Crow laws. The ticket salesman only sold Mays a ticket when he lied about who it was for. While riding to St. Louis, the Pullman warned Mays that he was risking his life by sitting in first class and that he should get off at the next stop. Shortly after, three white men, guns drawn, escorted Mays into a car in the back known as the "Jim Crow car". He eventually made it to the Omega Psi Phi meeting, where he spoke of his experience.

To finance his time in university, Mays worked as a Pullman Porter, a railway assistant. Much of the money he had earned growing up was spent financing his time at Bates, on Christmas Day 1921, Mays held only $45 dollars ($587 in 2018 USD). Mays began labor organizing to increase his wage, which was seen negatively by the Porter managers. Although he legally established a labor group for Pullman Porters, he was fired from his job for "attracting too much attention to labor rights." His time at the University of Chicago was marked by segregation. He was asked to sit at the colored area in the dining halls and was only allowed to use certain rooms for reading. Mays tolerated the segregation with the mindset that he was "only there to get a degree, to convince another brilliant set of Yankees that he could do their work." Although he was licensed to preach in 1919, he was officially ordained a Baptist minister in 1921. During this time he encountered John Hope, the current president of Morehouse College. Hope spoke to Mays about the lack of "a fine education for the colored in Atlanta". Mays traveled to Atlanta in 1921 and served as a pastor at the Shiloh Baptist Church until 1923. In March 1925, Mays was award an M.A. in religious studies from the university. Upon receiving his master's degree, he wrote to the pastorate with his intention of resigning to pursue a doctorate in the coming years. However, due to his financial status, he took up a teaching position instructing English at South Carolina State College from 1925 to 1926. Mays left his teaching position after routinely clashing with other faculty over grade inflation and academic standards.

From 1928 to 1930, he worked as the national student secretary of the Young Men's Christian Association (YMCA). A couple of months later, he was asked to serve as the director of Study of Black Churches in the United States by the Institute of Social and Religious Research of New York. In 1932, Mays returned to the University of Chicago with the intent of completing a Ph.D. in line with what was asked by the Institute of Social and Religious Research of New York. After some deliberation between fields of studies he could pursue a doctorate in he eventually decided to study religion and not mathematics or philosophy. Mays also worked as a student assistant to Dr. Lacey Kirk Williams, pastor of Olivet Baptist Church in Chicago and President of the National Baptist Convention. In 1933, he wrote his first book with Joseph Nicholson, The Negro's Church. It was the first sociological study of the black church in the United States and was submitted to the university faculty as his dissertation in 1935. Historian John Herbert Roper estimates that Mays was one of 20 African Americans so earn a doctorate during that year.

Howard University

Shortly after receiving his doctorate, he was called by the presidents of multiple universities to lead their religion departments. Mays chose to accept a position at Howard University in Washington as its dean of religious studies. He was instructed to build up the department and establish a reputation for well-trained ministers. Mays first renovated its library and secured loans from the federal government to expand it. His second objective was to separate the federally-funded portions of Howard University from the new school of religion. At the time, the university was partially funded by the U.S. Department of the Interior which prohibited funding to religious enterprises. After he successfully removed the School of Religion from the auspices of the federal government he was tasked with securing funding from wealthy donors from the North.

Mays secured a multi-million dollar package from donors by 1930, and was averaging yearly contributions of $750,000 during the Great Depression. The expanding Department of the Interior under Franklin D. Roosevelt, coupled with Mays' fundraising led to unprecedented growth at the university. Salaries for professors increased, new dorms were built and refurbished, the library Mays had been developing was completed, and new lecture halls were established. In 1938, he published his second book, The Negro's God as Reflected in His Literature. In 1939, he secured a large collection of theology books for his new library which prompted the American Association of Theological Schools to accredit the new School of Religion. During this time Mays developed a reputation for exacting standards and elitism. He was a vocal opponent of the notion that black men are inherently more violent than their white counterparts in universities. He was a vocal proponent of the New Negro movement and frequently lectured about its foundlings and applications.

In January 1940, Mays was secretly approached by, John Hervey Wheeler, a trustee of Morehouse College, to see if he was interested in an upcoming search for the college's next president. Wheeler told Mays that the school had a tough time with getting tuition payments out of the students, growing their endowment, and establishing national prominence. Mays expressed interest in the position but Wheeler cautioned him about the odds of him actually being offered the job. On March 10, 1940, Mays was offered the presidency of Morehouse by its trustees; he moved to Atlanta shortly after. When Mays left Howard University, he was honored with the renaming of the newly constructed home of the divinity school to "Benjamin Mays Hall."

Meeting with Gandhi

In 1936-37, Mays traveled to Mysore, India, where, at the urging of Howard Thurman, a fellow professor at Howard, he spoke at some length with Mahatma Gandhi. The two spoke for an hour and a half about the realities and powers of militant pacifism which he used to shape his civil rights ideology and practice. Mays asked Gandhi about the influence nonviolence had in his life and what his personal thoughts were on the caste system in India. Gandhi told Mays that there was never an instance where violence was acceptable especially that which was undertaken in retaliation. He was told that "one must pay the price for protest, even with one's life". In response to the caste system. Gandhi believed that there those with darker skin were not inherently untouchable but labeled it a "necessary economic injustice".

Morehouse College, 1940–1967

Early years

Mays was offered the presidency on March 10 and inaugurated the sixth president on August 1, 1940. Upon his assumption of the presidency, the school was in severe financial distress. In his first speech to an incoming freshman class in 1940, he said, "If Morehouse is to continue to be great; it must continue to produce outstanding personalities." Mays set out to improve the training of Morehouse men, increase enrollment, grow its endowment, and collect tuition payments.

Many associated with the college referenced him as a "builder of men." To improve the training of Morehouse men, Mays set out to advance a new curriculum based on the New Negro movement. He specifically wished to increase the training of black physicians, ministers and lawyers. Although Morehouse College was not a medical, law, or ministry school, it was a feeder institution into them so Mays took the preparation of his students into these schools seriously.

Financial planning

During his first three months nothing was planned to be or currently being constructed on campus. Mays had inherited "mountains of uncollected student bills" which served as a threat to the liquidity of the college. In 1933, Morehouse was doing so poorly financially that it had allowed Atlanta University to take over its financial direction and budget. He earned a reputation for being a penny-pincher and demanded tuition fees on time, which earned him the nickname "Buck Bennie;" the student newspaper occasionally ran headlines such as "Buck Bennie Rides Again," during the first couple of years of his Morehouse presidency. However, he often helped students pay their bills by offering work or finding it around campus. He would write to the employers of the college's graduates to ask them how the recent grads were doing as a way to measure the Morehouse education. Within two years of his presidency, Mays was so successful that he was able to regain control of Morehouse's finances.

Effects of World War II

Soon after primary advancements were made with the college, World War II broke out and many students were drafted for military service. The Chairman of the Board of Trustees of Morehouse approached Mays and requested the school be shut down for the remainder of the war, which prompted Mays to lash out and reject his proposition publicly. Mays counter-proposal was to open the school to younger students who were ineligible to be drafted. He moved to improve the academic quality of the students by lowering admissions rates, and reforming the academic platform. College faculty often were encouraged to befriend students and provided them with guidance in a tumultuous social scene at the time.

Recognition

The introduction to his speech compilation at Morehouse notes him with the following:

In physical stature Mays stood six feet tall, but appeared taller because of his erect posture--a habit he developed during his youth to walk around with dignity and pride; he weighted approximately 180 pounds and had a full head of iron-grey air with a contrasting dark complexion. His distinctive physical appearance commented his towering intellectual stature. When Mays walked into a room, eyes were likely to focus in his direction. His mere physical presence attracted attention.

He received an honorary doctorate and the "Alumnus of the Year" Award from Bates College in 1947 and the University of Chicago in 1949, respectively. Although he was a college president, he was not allowed to vote in the 1950s until he was 52 years old. Pulpit, a magazine focusing on black religious preachers, ranked him among the top 20 preachers in America in 1954. The same year he was one of the "Top Ten Most Powerful Negros" in the nation according to black magazine, Our World.

Jackie Robinson

In 1966, as president, Mays was invited to sit at a Atlanta Braves baseball game as a guest-of-honor by Jackie Robinson when the sports franchise moved from Milwaukee to Atlanta. Robinson invited Mays because of his efforts to integrate the baseball team in Atlanta. Robinson said of Mays: "When we first moved here it was the first team of major league caliber to ever move this far south to play baseball. And of course [Mays] was one of the guys, one of the persons really that made things a lot easier for myself and some of the other black ball players."

Roles in the White House

As president he was in great demand as a public speaker. He met hundreds of national and international leaders and served as a trusted advisor to Presidents Kennedy, Johnson, and Carter. He was appointed by President Truman to the Mid-Century White House Conference on Children and Youth. When Pope John XXIII died in 1963, President Kennedy sent Mays and his Vice President to represent the United States at the funeral in Rome, Italy. During the Kennedy administration, southern members of the Senate blocked Mays' appointment to the United States Civil Rights Commission by accusing him of being a Communist. Mays denied the charges. His relationship with President Jimmy Carter was marked with "warmth" and "hospitality." Carter visited Mays' home in Atlanta, and Mays in turn campaigned for Carter during his 1976 and 1980 presidential runs. Carter wrote to Mays on a monthly basis during his presidency asking him about "humans rights, international affairs, and discrimination."

Final years

Mays wanted to hire more teachers, and to pay those teachers a better salary. To do that, Mays sought to be more strict in the collection of student fees, and wanted to increase Morehouse's endowment from $1,114,000. He more than quadrupled the endowment that he inherited by the end of his 27-year tenure. Over Mays' twenty-seven years leading Morehouse, the enrollment increased 169%, from 238 to almost a thousand students and furthered the motivation for graduates to pursue graduate studies.

Connection to Martin Luther King Jr.

Mays first became associated with Martin Luther King Jr. during his time as a student at Morehouse College. While King was a student from 1944 to 1948 he often went to Morehouse's chapel to hear Mays preach. After the sermons, King would run up to Mays and engage with him about the ideas he presented often following him into his office, hours after the sermon ended. He was also a friend of Martin Luther King Jr.'s father, Martin Luther King Sr. and often participated with him religious organizations in Atlanta. Mays dined at the King's homes every so often and spoke with the young Martin Luther King Jr. about his career prospects and ambitions. His mother, Alberta Williams King said Mays was a "great influence on Martin Luther King Jr.," "[an] example of what kind of minister Martin could become," and "possessor of great moral principles."

While King was only his 20s, Mays helped him assume the responsibility of his actions in the civil rights rallies in which he participated. King needed Mays "for spiritual support as he faced the burden of being perceived as the personification of black America's hopes and dreams, it was Mays who held the job as King's consigliere over the next fourteen years as the death threats against him grew more ominous and the public battles more dangerous."

After King gained national attention as a consequence of his 1955 Montgomery bus boycott, he began to refer to Mays as his "spiritual and intellectual mentor", which enhanced the friendship they had and prompted Mays to be more involved with King's civil rights endeavors. Mays revered him as his "spiritual son". Mays gave the benediction at the close of the official program of the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, where King delivered his "I Have a Dream" speech in 1963.

"No man is ahead of his time" speech

The two developed a close relationship that continued until King's assassination by James Earl Ray on April 4, 1968. King and Mays promised each other that whoever outlived the other would deliver the eulogy at the other's funeral.

On April 9, 1968, Mays delivered a eulogy that would later be known as the "No Man is Ahead of His Time" speech. He noted King's time in history to an estimated 150,000 mourners by stating in his most famous passage:

If Jesus was called to preach the Gospel to the poor, Martin Luther was called to give dignity to the common man. If a prophet is one who interprets in clear and intelligible language the will of God, Martin Luther King Jr. fits that designation. If a prophet is one who does not seek popular causes to espouse, but rather the causes he thinks are right, Martin Luther qualified on that score.No! He was not ahead of his time. No man is ahead of his time. Every man is within his star, each in his time. Each man must respond to the call of God in his lifetime and not in somebody else's time. Jesus had to respond to the call of God in the first century A.D., and not in the 20th century. He had but one life to live. He couldn't wait.

The speech was well received by the attendants of the funeral and the American populate. It was later hailed as "a masterpiece of twentieth century oratory."

After the death of King, Mays drew controversy when his sermon at the Ebenezer Baptist Church urged an audience of mostly white people, "not to dishonor [King's] name by trying to solve our problems through rioting in the streets. If they could turn their sorrow into hope for the future and use their outrage to invigorate a peaceful climb to the mountaintop, Martin Luther King Jr. will have died a redemptive death from which all mankind will benefit."

After Morehouse, 1967–1981

Social tours and advocacy

Mays began teaching again, and served as a private advisor to the president of Michigan State University and went on to publish Disturbed About Man, a collection of his sermons at Morehouse College. His publications described his early life in South Carolina and the racial tensions he had to overcome. During this time he began to give speeches and commencement addresses at various intuitions to spread both religious and racial tolerance. He ended his social tours in the early 1980s, giving a total of 250 commencement addresses at colleges, universities, and schools. In 1978, the U.S. Department of Education granted him the Distinguished Educator Award and the South Carolina State House hung a commissioned portrait of him in its chamber. These awards from South Carolina were deeply appreciated by Mays as he left the state in fear of his life and this he loved. During the social transformation of the South in the 1970s, Mays' legacy in his birthplace was solidified and he took on the title of "native son".

Atlanta board presidency

At age seventy-five, Mays was elected president of the Atlanta Public Schools Board of Education, where he supervised the peaceful desegregation of Atlanta's public schools as a consequence of the 1970 federal court order. Members of the board argued that since the bussing was not a part of their system they did not have to create one for desegregation; however, the idea was shot down by Mays, who cited the Swann v. Charlotte-Mecklenburg Board of Education Supreme Court decision. It was during this time that Mays ordered the city to create bus routes to cater to African-American neighborhoods. The board did not support the decision and asked the Georgia's Attorney General, Arthur K. Bolton, for a review of the case. Bolton brought the city government together with the board and with Mays created what was known as the Atlanta Compromise Plan.

His "commanding and demanding personality" was largely credited for the exponential levels of desegregation in Atlanta. The Atlanta Compromise Plan prompted Mays to advocate for the administration of the plan to be "colorless", that is to say, black and white students were transported on the same routes, in the same buses. This was named the "Majority to Minority" volunteer plan, better known as the "M to M" plan. The plan also allowed each student whose race was in the minority to transfer to a school that had the majority race; this was advantageous to the black populace of Atlanta. The program was later known as the "Volunteer Transfer Program" or VTP, and was ministered by the federal courts and the board. On July 28, 1974, Mays signed the alignment order declaring that the Atlanta School System was unitary.

On July 1, 1973, Mays appointed Alonzo Crim as the first African-American superintendent of schools, which was met with backlash from the other board members and city officials. He used his power and influence in Atlanta to shield Crim from the criticism and allowed him the opportunity to run the school system. During the later part of his tenure he greatly expanded the jurisdiction of the board, and upon his retirement in 1981 Mays was honored by the naming of a street. Near the end of his tenure, the board voted to name a newly constructed school after Mays; Mays High School was constructed on February 10, 1985, and was open to students of all races. He retired from the board in 1981. The Atlanta Board of Education had a rule against naming buildings after people unless they had been deceased for two years; they waived it for Mays; he visited the school frequently when it was being built. He is widely credited as the most influential figure in the desegregation of Atlanta, Georgia.

Death and legacy

Benjamin Mays died on March 28, 1984 in Atlanta, Georgia. He was initially buried at South-View Cemetery, but in May 1995 his body was entombed on the campus of Morehouse College along with his wife Sadie. Morehouse College established the Benjamin E. Mays Scholarship shortly after his death.

Boston University professor Lawrence Carter described Mays as "one of the most significant figures in American history." Andrew Young said of Mays: "if there hadn't of been [sic] a Benjamin Mays there would not have been a Martin Luther King Jr. He was very much a product of Dr. Mays religious thinking." He was known to Dillard University president Samuel Dubose Cook as "[one of the] great architects of the civil rights movement. Not only in training individuals but in writing his books, leadership in churches, as a pastor, college president. He set the standard. And he was uncompromising." In 2002, scholar Molefi Kete Asante listed Benjamin Mays on his list of 100 Greatest African Americans.

Sites and honors

In his home state of South Carolina he was inducted into the South Carolina Hall of Fame in 1984. His childhood home was relocated from Epworth to Greenwood, SC and is listed as a State Historic Site by the government of South Carolina, and was referred to as an "education icon" by the South Carolina Radio Network in 2011. Upon his death Mays was designated Phi Beta Kappa, Delta Sigma Rho, Delta Theta Chi, Omega Psi Phi.

Nationally, he was awarded the Spingarn Medal from the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People in 1982. He was elected to the Schomburg Honor Roll of Race Relations along with "only a dozen major leaders to be so honored." In 2011, Wiliams College in Williamstown, Massachusetts, introduced the Mellon Mays Undergraduate Fellowship at Williams College. The National School Boards Association created the Benjamin Elijah Mays Lifetime Achievement Award for "an individual who—during his or her lifetime—has demonstrated a longstanding commitment to the educational needs of urban school children through his or her service as a local school board member." Due to his stature in academia he was frequently awarded honorary degreess from universities. He was awarded 40 of them during his lifetime and as of February 2018, he has received 56 honorary degrees.

Bates College's highest alumni distinction is known as the Benjamin E. Mays Medal and is reserved for "the alumna or alumnus who has performed distinguished service to the larger (worldwide) community and been deemed a graduate of outstanding accomplishment." The inaugural winner was Mays himself. The college established the Benjamin E. Mays Distinguished Professorship in 1985.

Mays has been the subject or inspiration of memorials, and the eponym of hundreds of buildings, schools, streets, halls, awards, grants, scholarships, fellowships, and statues. Although he through his life had been appreciative of all of them, he "[was] reported to have said he was moved most deeply when a small black church in Ninety Six, South Carolina, renamed itself Mays United Methodist Church. There are numerous memorials to Mays in the United States, including:

Benjamin E. Mays High School, in Atlanta, Georgia, U.S.

Benjamin E. Mays Drive in Atlanta, Georgia, U.S.

Benjamin E. Mays Archives in Atlanta, Georgia, U.S.

Benjamin E. Mays National Memorial in Atlanta, Georgia, U.S.

The Statue of Benjamin E. Mays at Morehouse College, Atlanta, Georgia, U.S.

Benjamin Mays Hall of Howard University, in Washington, D.C., U.S.

Benjamin Mays Center of Bates College, in Lewiston, Maine, U.S.

Benjamin E. Mays International Magnet School, in St. Paul, Minnesota, U.S.

Mays House Museum, in Greenwood, South Carolina, U.S.

Benjamin Mays Historic Site, in Greenwood, South Carolina, U.S.

Dr Benjamin E. Mays Elementary School in Greenwood, South Carolina, U.S.

Mays United Methodist Church, in Ninety Six, South Carolina, U.S.

Mays Crossroads on Highway 171 in Ninety Six, South Carolina, U.S.

Benjamin E. Mays Elementary Academy, in Chicago, Illinois, U.S.

Benjamin E. Mays High School in Pacolet, South Carolina, U.S.

Medal of Freedom effort

After Mays stepped down from the Atlanta Board of Education presidency in 1981, a petition was sent to the desk of U.S. President Ronald Reagan requesting that Mays be given the Presidential Medal of Freedom, but it was turned down. Georgian representative John Lewis proposed a bill in January 1993 that would commemorate Mays on a federal stamp and requested that Mays be given the Medal of Freedom posthumously. The request was sent to U.S. President Bill Clinton but his time as president ended before he could address the request. A request was sent once again to U.S. President George Bush by Georgian representatives Max Cleland and Zell Miller which passed both houses of Congress but has yet to be signed by a U.S. president. The petition was sent once more in 2012 to U.S. President Barack Obama, yet failed to be awarded.

[pocket-luv101]

Dramatic Blond || Part 1

Fandom: Servamp Ships: LawLicht (main), KuroMahi (side) Characters: Hyde, Licht, Kuro, Mahiru, Lily

Summary: Hyde enrolls in Juilliard to win back his ex. But then he meets Licht who helps him discover a new dream. He will become a famous actor and show his ex that he’s someone serious. (Legally Blonde AU)

A/N: The musical was much better than I thought it would be and it inspired me to make this. I thought it would be a fun challenge to write an AU.

(Part 1) || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

“Hyde, you need to rethink your relationship with Ayato. You two have been dating for a few years now but it’s clear that you’re more serious than he is. This is the third time he stood you up in a week.” Kuro sat on the porch with his brother. He wanted his brother to be happy and he could only see Ayato breaking Hyde’s heart. Unfortunately, Hyde was a hopeless romantic.

While Kuro was the oldest, he rarely pried into his siblings’ lives. He thought it was best to let them be free to make their own choices. He refused to let someone hurt his brother though. “You have your whole life in front of you, Hyde. After you get your Bachelor’s degree, you’re free to do whatever you want. You can help with the family business or backpack through Europe. Just don’t waste your time on something troublesome. Love isn’t everything.”

“You can say all that because you’ve never been in love before.” He brushed Kuro’s words aside. Hyde thought that he was being overprotective. He dated Ayato throughout high school and most of university so he thought they were both serious about their relationship. He had been distant recently but Hyde still had faith in him. “Last week, I saw him buy a ring. I think he’s going to propose to me soon.”

Kuro fell silent and he wished that he was better with words. He tried his best though. “Look, I don’t want you to get your hopes up with this guy. Isn’t there something else you want to pursue? What about all those dreams you had when you were a kid? I remember you had a lot of fun ones. You said you wanted to open a petting zoo filled with cute hedgehogs.”

“I was six when I said that.” Hyde reminded him with a chuckle. He had to admit that he let go of many of his dreams throughout their relationship. Ayato would ask him to focus more and more on him. He didn’t want to think all that time and his emotions were wasted on nothing.  

The door opened behind them and they turned around to see Lily poke his head out. He had a hesitant expression as he told them, “Ayato is in front of the gate. He said he wanted to talk to you, Hyde, but I didn’t know if I should let him in. Should I tell him to come back tomorrow?”

“You should’ve told me that he was here sooner, Lily! He probably wants to apologize for missing our date. Open the gate for him. You two go back inside and let me talk to him alone.” Hyde jumped to his feet and raced down the steps. He ignored the worried look Lily had and the way Kuro shook his head. As he reached the bottom, Ayato’s car stopped in front of their home.

He felt both hopeful and nervous as Ayato stepped out of his expensive car. Hyde didn’t want those emotions to reflect in his smile and he managed to hide it. He leaned against the hood of the car and faced Ayato. “Did something come up to make you late for our date? The concert already started but we might be able to catch the second half.”

“I don’t think we’ll be able to make it to the concert. I still wanted to see you tonight and talk with you, Hyde. You look great tonight.” Ayato started and took his hand. Hyde thought of the ring he saw him buy and his hopes rose. He didn’t drop onto his knee like he expected him to. “I want you to know that you’re a great guy and anyone would be lucky to date you.”

Ayato let go of his hand and placed his hands in his pockets. “I’ve been thinking of my future. You know that I want to be a singer like my parents. After I graduate, I will go to Juilliard. I need to be serious. That’s why we should break up.”

“What?” Hyde yelled. “I thought you were going to propose to me. I saw you buy a ring!”

“I bought a ring for myself since I received a letter from Juilliard.” He said and Hyde’s head began to spin. “I thought you knew we weren’t something serious. I considered marrying you since you’re from an affluent and rich family but it won’t work out. It’s better for my career if I marry someone serious. We had a lot of fun but it’s time to focus on my career. Goodbye, Hyde.”

Hyde was too shocked to react and he stood still while Ayato patted his shoulder. He could only watch him drive away. Kuro moved to stand next to him and lightly pulled on his arm. “Are you okay, Hyde? Let’s go back inside and get you hot chocolate. You’ll move on and find someone better.”

“Hyde, I said I would support whatever you choose to do after you finish college. Are you sure you want to go to The Juilliard School of the Performing Arts though?” Kuro asked him as he walked through the hall with his brother. He wouldn’t be so reluctant if Hyde didn’t enroll in the school for the sake of a man. The siblings couldn’t dissuade him. “This place is competitive.”

“They already accepted me into the school. All those years I would sneak a peek at my Christmas presents and then act surprised turned out to be good practise for this. I’m a good actor, aren’t I, Nii-san?” Hyde chuckled. They walked down the hall of an apartment building near the school. Kuro offered to help him move his things into his new home. “This is my suite.”

They stopped in front of the door and he placed his boxes on the ground to take out his keys. He was confused when he couldn’t unlock the door. Hyde wondered if the landlord had given him the wrong key. The brothers didn’t notice someone walk towards them. He gasped when someone kicked his back and he fell forward into the door. He turned around to see a stranger glaring at him.

“What are you doing in front of my door?” The man said with a distrustful scowl. He didn’t wait for Hyde’s reply before he accused him, “It looks like you’re trying to break into my apartment, Demon. You have ten seconds to run away before I kick you again. This time, I won’t hold back.”

“That was you holding back? You look like an angel but you have one nasty kick.” Hyde groaned and rubbed the spot he kicked. He was certain that he would have a bruise there. He took out his lease agreement to prove that he lived in the building. As the man skimmed it, Hyde told him: “I just moved in. Do you live here as well?”

“I live in 205, the apartment you were trying to open. This lease says your apartment number is 206. That’s next door, Stupid Hedgehog.” Licht lightly tapped his knuckles against the apartment number hanging between their doors. Due to the placement, people would often confuse the apartment’s number. “Didn’t the landlord tell you that the room number is to the door’s right?”

Hyde shook his head and made Licht groan. He told himself that there was nothing he could do if it was a simple misunderstanding. Licht already had a headache and he wanted nothing more than to collapse on his couch. Since he missed the bus, he had to walk for an hour to return home. He gestured for Hyde to step aside so he could go into his apartment.

“Um, I think my key is stuck.” Hyde sent Licht a sheepish smile.

“Great.” He hoped Mahiru’s shop was open so he could rest there while he waited for a locksmith. Licht took out his phone to check the time. His stomach growled and he was reminded that he hadn’t eaten yet.

“I’ll pay for the locksmith.” Hyde offered. He took out the spare key the landlord gave him and opened his door. He felt guilty for locking Licht out of his home. “I’m sorry, Angel Cakes. Do you want to wait in my apartment? We have Chinese. Since we’re neighbours now, this is a great opportunity to get to know each other. My name is Hyde Lawless Servamp.”

“Licht Jekylland Todoroki.” He introduced himself and shook the hand Hyde held out to him. He had to admit that he had a charming smile for a demon but he knew better than to enter the apartment of a man he barely knew. Licht wasn’t one for pity or handouts either. He brushed aside his offer and said, “It’s alright, I can stay with a friend.”

Hyde nodded to him and walked into his apartment. He left the door open as he carried his luggage into the room. The apartment that was already furnished and he placed one of his bags on the couch. Licht’s eyes widened the moment he spotted a large, elaborate hedgehog cage. He pushed his way past the two and raced to adorable animal. “Hello, Mr. Harinezumi!”

“Did you just squeak like a hedgehog, Lichtan?” Hyde started to laugh and he hugged his stomach. He dodged the kick he aimed at his head and stepped back. Licht glared at him for a few minutes but his attention was quickly stolen by the pet hedgehog scratching on the bar. His face softened and Hyde thought it was intriguing how his expression changed so quickly.

“I named him Dr. Jekyll. Do you know how to pet a hedgehog without being pricked?” Hyde stood next to him and gently took the hedgehog out of the cage. Licht could see how gentle and careful he was with the small creature. He knelt next to him and rubbed his finger over the hedgehog’s forehead.

Licht accidentally dropped his satchel on the floor and a few books fell out. Hyde helped him gather the textbooks and he noticed that they were mostly for music history. They also appeared to be old and used. He handed it back to Licht and asked, “Are you going to Juilliard as well? I’m in the Fine Arts. It looks like we’re the same age so we might be classmates.”

“I’m pursuing my Master of Music so I doubt we have any classes together. I plan to become a brilliant pianist and spread my music to the world.” He said confidently. Hyde couldn’t tell if Licht was joking or if he truly believed that he was an angel. He smiled and played along with him. He picked up his hedgehog again and held it close to Licht’s face.

“Dr. Jekyll really likes you. It must be your angelic light.” He said playfully but Licht nodded with a proud smile. From his reaction, Hyde guessed that Licht truly believed that he was an angel. He chuckled softly and thought that it would be interesting being neighbours with him. He only turned away when Kuro placed a suitcase next to the door and spoke to him.

“This is the last bag. I brought in everything while you were talking with your new friends. You owe me lunch for all this work. My back hurts now,” Kuro groaned and rubbed his shoulders. He brought in the bags while Hyde talked with Licht because it looked like they were having fun. He hoped that meeting new people would help his brother move on from his ex.

With that thought, Kuro lied: “I got a call from the office so I need to go. Text me if something comes up. Goodbye, Hyde.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to a slice of the pizza?” He asked and Kuro shook his head. They waved to each other as he left the apartment. Hyde took the pizza box and held it out to Licht. “It looks like I’m sharing this with you tonight, Angel Cakes.”

Hyde stared at his phone but Ayato hadn’t replied to his texts. Last night, he spoke with his ex-boyfriend and they agreed to meet on a bench on campus. He was excited to see him again and mend their relationship. He spent his last year in college working hard so he could enter Juilliard. Ayato said his family wanted him to be with a celebrity so he would become an actor.

“He’s an hour late…” After dating him for years, Hyde knew that meant Ayato had stood him up once more. A heavy sigh escaped him. His class didn’t start for another hour so he didn’t know what he should do. He spotted a small music store across the street and he jumped to his feet. As he walked into the store, a sunny bell chimed.

“Good morning. Is there a particular instrument you’re looking for? I’ll be happy to help you.” A brunette behind the counter greeted him with a warm smile. “My name is Mahiru and I own this humble, little shop. If you’re a new music student at Juilliard, I hope you’ll find everything you need here.”

“I’m in the Fine Arts but I want to buy a CD of classical music for studying. It makes babies smarter so hopefully it will help me too. Admittedly, I don’t know much so can you help me find a good one?” Mahiru nodded before he led him to a rack of CDs. Hyde glanced around the shop and then he pointed to a guitar hanging on the wall. “That acoustic guitar looks cool.”

“Guys hoping to pick up people with the acoustic guitar has kept my shop open for years.” Mahiru joked and took down the guitar. He strummed a few cords and it was clear that he was skilled. His brown eyes also held a hint of nostalgia. “When I was a teenager, I fell for that act. That guy broke my heart but he helped me discover how much I love music.”

“Break ups are hard.” Hyde signed. Mahiru had seen many people enter his shop and he recognized the heartache in his red eyes. He couldn’t help but feel sympathetic.  

Mahiru replaced the guitar on the wall before he selected a CD from the rack. He slipped the disk into a CD player and a hopeful tune filled the shop. “This song helped me during my breakup and it might do the same for you. It’s on the house. Hyde, we’re strangers so it might not be my place to give you advice. I just want you to know that you’ll move on and find someone else.”

“But I don’t want someone else!” He argued and then he went to tell him about Ayato. Mahiru knew that Hyde likely needed someone to vent to so he simply nodded along to his story. Once he was finished, he slumped into a chair. “We were supposed to meet earlier but he didn’t show up.”

“Maybe that’s for the best.” Mahiru said softly. He bit his lower lip and tried to think of the best wording. “From what you’ve told me, Ayato doesn’t seem like the best guy for you. He sounds like an asshole. He might not be physically abusive but he has been very selfish in your relationship. You’ll lose yourself if you stay with Ayato.”

He could see that Hyde was still uncertain. He took out a map of the campus and circled a performance hall. Mahiru handed Hyde the map and the CD. He said, “There’s a small concert playing at ten tonight. It’s free and you should go. Maybe the performance will help you find a better dream than Ayato.”

“I thought Mahiru said that this was a concert.” Hyde looked through the small window on the door. The room was dark and he couldn’t see anyone inside. He placed his hand on the door handle and he found that it was unlocked. He opened the door slightly and a beautiful song flowed out of the room. He walked into the room and followed the alluring song.  

On the stage, Licht was playing the piano. He told him that he played the piano but he never imagined that he would be so talented. The music enchanted him and held him spellbound until the whole world disappeared around them. Different emotions overwhelmed him as he listened to the passionate song. He stood still as the song slowed and faded away.

Licht yawned and stretched his arms over his head. The music room was closed after hours but Licht would sneak inside to practise the piano. He looked up and his eyes met Hyde’s. He hadn’t heard him enter and he was surprised to see him. He quickly gathered his things and then stood. “What are you doing here, Shit Rat? We’ll both be in trouble if someone catches… Are you crying?”

Hyde touched his cheek and he realized that there were tears on his cheek. Licht took out a napkin and handed it to him. He mumbled a thank you and wiped away the tears. It was embarrassing to cry in front of a man he only knew for a few days. He tried to mask how he felt and joked, “You play like an angel, Lichtan! You’re already a master so why are you here? Was that Für Elise?”

“Yes, it was.” He nodded but he was suspicious that Hyde merely wondered into the room. Mahiru was the only person who knew that he practised after hours. He wouldn’t tell someone unless there was a good reason. He looked into his red eyes and he saw a flame that had died long ago. Hyde was a good actor so Licht almost didn’t notice the slight shake in his laughter.  

“Mahiru told me that there was a concert here and it could inspire me to find a new dream. You really are something amazing, Angel Cakes. What is it like to be so passionate and talented? I entered Juilliard but I’m not serious about art or music.” Hyde laughed at himself and Licht appeared confused. He briefly told him about Ayato. “I came here for love but it’s not working out well.”

“Wait, you came here to follow a man and Juilliard was just part of that plan? The admission rate is less than ten percent.” Licht was shocked by Hyde’s motivation for enrolling into the school. “So, instead of pursuing your own dream, you dropped everything for a selfish man. That’s the weirdest reason I have ever heard. Is that what you told the admission office during your interview?”

“Oh, why did you enroll then?” Hyde shot back.

Licht’s back straightened and he met his eyes. He didn’t try to hide his pride. “I was raised by a single mother and the men who repeatedly broke her heart. Each time someone walked out on us, I would play the piano to make her smile. It’s my dream to do the same for people around the world. I have sacrificed a lot and I worked myself to the bone to get where I am now.”

“It sounds like you have a chip on your shoulder.” He playfully tapped Licht’s shoulder. When he looked down, Hyde flicked his forehead. Licht scowled at him and Hyde lightly brushed his fingers over the spot he flicked. “That little chip will turn into a boulder if you keep dwelling on it, Angel Cakes.”

“A boulder can either drag you down or be used to crush demons. When you’re not born into privilege, you need to work twice as hard. We weren’t rich enough to own a piano so I would play the piano displayed in the mall. I worked two jobs in addition to my classes. But, in the end, all that work will be worthwhile when I have my first recital and see my mother in the front row.”

It was clear that Licht was close to his mother and cared for her deeply. “That’s sweet, Lichtan.”

“No, that’s the chip on my shoulder.” Licht corrected him. He mimicked Hyde’s earlier action and lightly slapped his shoulder. “Everyone has one. I suggest you use yours as motivation, Shit Rat. Dreams are what separate us so tell me about yours. You don’t deserve to be in this school unless you’re driven and working towards something.”

“You know how to rub salt into my wounds, don’t you, Angel Babe?” Hyde sat on the piano bench and drummed his fingers over the keys. “I’ve been coasting by in school and I didn’t make a backup plan for my future. I wouldn’t know what I would do, anyways. I thought a ring on my finger would be all I need. It’s a little late to find a new dream now.”

“You truly are a hopeless hedgehog. Do I need to point out the obvious to you? You can start here! The school accepted you so they must’ve recognized something in you.” Licht placed his hand next to Hyde’s on the keys and played a chord. “Of all the programs in Juilliard, you chose acting so you must have a slight interest in. Follow that instinct and see if it leads you to a new dream.”

“I like Shakespeare and have some of his plays memorized already.” Hyde gently took Licht’s hand and smiled at him. He lightly kissed his fingertips. “I’ll follow thee and make heaven of hell to die upon the hand I love so well.”

“Save the Shakespeare for a casting director, Shit Rat.” Licht took his hand back and lightly slapped his chest. “Let’s head back home. It’s late.”