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umichenginabroad · 1 year ago

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Stockholm Week 1: Uncovering Stockholm

Hi again! I am Jiwoo Kim, and I am back with new updates.

I journaled throughout the week to keep my memories fresh and in the hopes of using that as my blog post, but I want to let you know that it is A LOT of content (warning in advance). If this continues I will break down my week into two posts :(

Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy reading (or skimming) the adventures I had this week!

1/14 - Shopping Sunday

Surprisingly, I had no jet lag! Thanks to the laundry machine breaking down (check my previous post for more details), I slept around 12 am and woke up at 11 am. Day 2 and I was already set.

My friends and I visited Fern and Fika for our first fika. The fruit tea I got was amazing but my four friends, who all ordered the same thing, did not enjoy their chai latte. I didn’t get any desserts because it was early in the day but I am definitely planning to go back.

To familiarize ourselves with the metro, we traveled around proximal areas around the DIS building. There were abundant stores, both international (H&M, UNIQLO, Lush) and local, along the streets. We visited the following stores: Normal (cheap bath and body products), IKEA (meatballs were exactly what I was looking for), UNIQLO (I bought a cute cross bag and my friends got heat tech clothing), and ICA (grocery run again).

1/15 - First Day of Orientation

I discovered that A LOT of well-known companies and artists are from Sweden: the list includes H&M, IKEA, Spotify, ABBA, Ace of Base, etc. 300 students played trivia all at once with live music (piano and singing) from the DIS faculty!

After the trivia, we all went to faculty-led group workshops. They were 30-40 minute sessions where I met a lot of different students; it honestly felt like a freshmen orientation. We did some legos, played supposed Swedish games, and learned all about Swedish culture.

For dinner, I cooked with my roomie. Tomato pasta with cheese, sausage, diced onion, and premade sauce; doesn’t it look good?

I usually don’t like tomato pasta but the one we made was so good that I devoured it in seconds

1/16 - Second Day of Orientation

Second visit to the DIS building was much easier. We already got the hang of using the metro! I saw dogs in and out of the metro and they were all quiet and well-behaved. It was intriguing to see that even the dogs are different too!

The main event was going to apply for a physical Swedish visa/permit.

We woke up at 6:20 am (as a night owl, I had to suck it up) and quickly got ready. No one knew but we had to take a picture for the residence permit card and EVERYONE was crusty in the photos - weird orange lighting, no counting before the photoshoot. I am not ready to see the result yet and I don’t think I ever will be ready.

I had about 3 hours before Housing Info Sessions at the DIS building again so my apartment friends and I headed home. On the way back, we stopped at T-Central station to get a replacement guarantee for our Stockholm transportation card (also provided by the DIS). We saw a mart called AM Store across the street and decided to check it out too - it turned out to be a HUGE Asian mart! When I say HUGE I mean like a two-story store HUGE (0o0). It literally had everything I could think of - sauces, dumplings, Kimchi, seaweed, enoki mushrooms, rice, all types of ramen, noodles, hot pot broths, mochi, hoppang, fortune cookies, etc. Korean, Chinese, Japanese, Thai, and many more types of food were there.

This is a photo I took to assure my parents that I will be well-fed in Stockholm and that they don’t need to send me/bring me anything

I went back home afterward for lunch and did some work for my asynchronous online ChemE Reactions course and blogger post rough draft. So busy!

At the Hornstull station, which is the closest station to our apartment

During the housing info session, we wrote a letter to ourselves in order to practice writing our new address. It was unexpected but a good checkpoint for me to look back on my initial goals, worries, and plans for the study abroad. It’s going to be mailed to me in two months as a method to reflect how I am doing!

Stockholms Stadsmission was the second thrift store I visited in Stockholm, and it was by far the best! It had various options (shoes, bags, clothes, accessories) of good quality at good prices! I got a baby shirt for $5. You do have to dig in a bit, but you can definitely find *��+:*｡･ gold *｡･:*+*

When we got back home, my roommate and I cooked rice, sautéed Napa with oyster sauce, and roasted chicken breasts. It took us like 2 hours (LOL) but they were on point - we were so full after the dinner.

I am so proud of us

That night, a student posted on DIS Navigate, an online community shared among DIS Stockholm students, saying that some are going to Beer and Play at 9 pm to “hydrate” for field study tomorrow.

It was a short walk from Högalidsgatan so we all decided to go. It was a great decision. We all had SO much fun! DIS students kept rushing in one after another; we soon filled the entire pub. We all mingled and talked to each other, and I finally met someone in my core course. The number of followers and following in my Instagram shot up after this ;)

Pear cider was a popular choice

1/17 - Core Course Field Study

I woke up early to go to a cafe with a friend for a fika! Earl gray with two desserts for breakfast was an experience. Although the desserts were too sweet for my liking, I loved the decorations in the cafe. They were so pretty!

Taking pictures is a must in a cute cafe

Today was the first field study with my core course, Sustainable Engineering in Scandinavia. It took the whole 4 hours, but the time did fly when I was having fun. We had an introduction about the class structure inside and went outside for a field study in Stockholm Seaport. While walking around various structures covered with snow, we asked questions after listening to the connections between the construction area and the environment, society, and economy.

I couldn't open my eyes because snow was rushing in

Professor informed us that this weather is uncommon in Stockholm, but this was what I expected so I guess it worked out. I really think it snowed 10 cm today. My feet were surrounded with snow and my face was smacked by a snow blizzard. Although I was F R E E Z I N G more and more every second in the snow, I loved all of it. We stopped by a small store to have fika funded by DIS and I didn’t miss my chance for a free fika: I got green tea and a croissant with cheese and lettuce.

Having a small class gave me a chance to talk with almost everyone in the course, and it felt more like a close-knit community. Later in the trip we were making small snowmans and having snowball fights along the way. We even planned an informal class trip on a ferry to Finland!

1/18 - First Real Lectures

Thursday was the first real day of classes. We mostly did introductions and talked about expectations in class. Except for the fact that my core course went over two chapters worth of materials during the three-hours lecture, it was fine. I was mentally exhausted, so after lectures I went straight home and did homework for the rest of the night. I was saving energy for Friday 🙂

1/19 - TGIF

Friday! I thankfully got off the waitlist for the Swedish Language and Culture course, so I switched it with the 8:30am Philosophy course. I don’t have an 8:30am class anymore!

After my morning classes, I tried fika on my own. I walked around 10 minutes from the DIS building and went to a cafe with an interesting seating arrangement. I wandered around in a shopping mall nearby until it was time for the DIS cultural mingle event with high school locals.

My first Swedish cinnamon bun, Kanelbullar

The high school kids were so kind and eager to talk with us, which was unexpected but fun. I was informed that I need to go NORTH NORTH of Sweden to see the northern lights, which was a little disappointing :( I am still going to try though! Seeing the northern lights has been on my bucket list for quite some time now and I don’t want to miss the chance.

Right before heading home after class, I met a new friend who lives in Homestay. Rather than going home, we spontaneously decided to explore Stockholm together. First, we headed to a pop-up store of a Swedish artist. It turns out he was performing at the store like a small concert, and we were able to listen to all of his songs for an hour or so! Even though I couldn’t understand anything, I cherished every single part of that mini concert.

I had Shazam on the whole time

To celebrate the end of the week, my friends and I prepared to go out after dinner. After the pregame, we went to the Time Bar, a bar close to our apartment that accepts American IDs like driver’s licenses. The bar was so cute, and the Passion Sour drink was the best alcohol I had in my life.

We made friends with the bartender and the security it was so cute <;3

I was planning to stay home on Saturday but I somehow ended up in the Time Bar again. Two nights in a row but I still had so much fun.

A friend brought two cameras to the bar and we took cute photos of each other :)

1/21 - Gamla Stan

Waking up today was difficult after going out two nights in a row, but I didn’t give in to my extremely cozy and warm bedding.

I met my friends at the lobby around 10:30 am to head off to Gamla Stan, the Old Town! I was so excited to go because I've been only hearing good comments about it (even the locals recommended it). There were hundreds of aesthetic cafes, souvenir shops, jewelry/clothing shops, etc. There were multiple majestic towers too!

I had my hopes high and Gamla Stan still managed to exceed my expectations!

We were just in time for the Royal Guards Ceremony (basically changing of the guards) at the Royal Palace of Stockholm. My friend was being a tour guide and explaining that no one lives in the palace anymore but they do it as a tradition.

I basically got a free tour around Gamla Stan aren’t I so lucky ;)

We stopped at stores that caught our eyes and I was able to find a perfect scarf in one of the stores! I couldn’t get my hands off of the scarf ever since I touched it, so I just had to get it. I swear the scarf stuck to my hands. You’ll understand me the moment you touch the scarf. It is the softest thing I touched in my life and I love it. My hair doesn't stick to it or get frizzy either!

Okay, enough of the scarf ramble. Anyway, as we were getting ready to go back, we saw a churro place and couldn’t pass it. The owner started making a fresh batch of churros and it was so pleasantly painful to wait for them to be done as we stood outside, in the cold weather, smelling every single step of the baking process. The churros tasted like heaven and we were so happy with our decision.

Before I leave, I am definitely going back to Mr. Churros multiple times to try every single flavor. I highly recommend the cinnamon sugar flavor though!

This concludes my first week in Stockholm, and I can’t wait to experience more things!

Thank you for taking the time to read this lengthy blog and I hope to see you again!

Hey då,

Jiwoo Kim

Chemical Engineering

DIS Study Abroad in Stockholm, Sweden

#UmichEnginAbroad #IPEStockholm #JiwooKim #IPEWinter24 #Sweden

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socialpracticegrouprca · 4 years ago

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‘What do our publics look like now?’

Activity with Sadie Edginton June 16th 2020

‘Here is my lockdown publics diagram developed for a workshop session, which I led with a group of students for the RCA Social Practice Group. I led a session on this again afterwards with a group of art educators and artists for a practice sharing group. Called ‘Writing the Rules for Zoom’ started by Alex Parry it was kick started by Alex’s development of ideas around this topic for a session for the social practice group in May 2020.

The diagram asks questions about different networks, communities and publics that we are communicating with and are in connection with (in the context of the first 3 months of lockdown). I developed mine through a process of creating a few drawings, into this kind of Venn diagram overlapped series of shapes. It was interesting to think about who is ‘the public’ to me, are these people I just don’t know, the ‘unknown’? Or people in various roles, networks or spaces? The process of doing it explored which groups of people I tended to identify as being ‘the public’ or which different publics and communities I was aware of being in contact with, both virtually and physically, at this time.

Putting people into ‘categories’ can of course be problematic, so it was definitely a process of thinking through this. Do publics get reduced or expanded at this time? As the people we are in touch regularly has physically changed a lot, depending where you happen to ‘lockdown’ or which networks or communities you are part of, I wondered how we can analyse and unpick possible and potential new ‘publics’ or communities to interact with, to play with as an audience or to set artwork within, or to communicate with. The delivery drivers, the supermarket workers, the people who walk past your house, these are all potential collaborators, viewers or audiences. Memorable moments in the workshops were: people identifying making regular connections with dogs (not their owners) on the beach, wondering who the people are behind newsletters in email inboxes, having the unnerving ability to ‘select’ online communities and students commenting on the ‘outsourcing’ of care and being able to be in a position of selecting which people or networks they wanted to hear from, speak to, listen to at this time.

It was a process of conceptualising the connections and groups as new communities, to seeing potential works coming out of unexpected daily relationships created by the change in social networks due to the pandemic. To see who or how we communicate in terms of varying distances. One artist commented that it made her think about the varying distances of intimacy that she has now with different people, a shorter distance with a partner, then family members, growing to huge distances, from 1 metre to 2 metre’s, to online distances that stretch across the world.’

More about the session below:

Social Practice Group Session 6, Tuesday 16th June 2020

Notes written: 22/06/2020 by Sadie Edginton

We wanted the last social practice session to be different. After experiencing other practitioners work over the weeks, we wanted the emphasis to be turned onto the students, to create some have room for them to try out their own ideas and to experiment with the format. The group had grown to become a space which felt comfortable, some recognisable faces every week, although there was always a few new people which worked well. Everyone could potentially test out ideas within the safety of the online zoom session format. It seemed to have become important that the group had evolved into a sense of familiarity whilst maintaining the possibility for unexpected things occurring. One student said, that was what she like about this group, that it was one place she could go knowing something surprising might happen. With some students returning often and creating a general sense of being relaxed, the group had created a comfortable sharing space, where people could voice their ideas, share thoughts about where they were, and most seemed open to trying new things out.

We had been playing with this space for the last few months since the beginning of lockdown. This was the sixth session and last (official) session of the school year. We'd had sessions by Louise Shelley, a curator; about group listening and reading processes, Alex Parry led us through a playful workshop stretching the rules for zoom, and Tim tried out his laptop-synthesiser experiment creating collective sounds out of objects in our homes with students now based across the globe overlapping their object orchestras into a magical din.

I had missed a session two weeks before where the group had had an informal conversation about what they'd like to try out. We'd had some interesting feedback too where students had said they felt like this space for sharing and practicing was needed, and it seemed to open-up space for vulnerability (through sharing) and support.

I had planned a vague structure for the last session, I would introduce, do a check-in so that everyone had a chance to speak and do a half hour workshop about mapping the publics and communities we were connecting with now (and how this has changed during lockdown).

There was then time for three students slots; Sally's workshop on confronting the awkwardnesses of online communication, followed by a 5 minute break, then Kats workshop about the taste and other sense. Everything went over time-wise so there was only 10 minutes left for Yuka to play us her experiments with the spatiality of sound.

We started by going around the group using these two questions for a check-in.

'What does 'the public' look like, from where you are now?'

'How are you connecting to a community?'

These questions were borrowed from a recording of a discussion here: http://www.nowandthere.org/blog/2020/4/7/nt-asks-what-does-public-mean-right-now

It was interesting to hear about where the students were based, most in the UK, then China, Japan and Paris. We had seven students and Hannah and I, so altogether it worked well for creating a grid of nine on the gallery view on zoom. As we went around the group I was struck how each student shared with us a detailed picture of how they were in unexpected circumstances and feeling isolated. Some had just travelled to another place, and were stuck living mostly inside and with family, they were not sure about what a local community might look like. One had discovered new communities through volunteering for local mutual aid groups, Hannah mentioned working with existing connections to create networks of in different ways, new connections with animals and birds seeming to be important. Some international students admitted they didn't feel like they had a community, whether they were in London, or back home. One said she felt like there were layers of community, from those close by who were a local support system, then the online groups she was part of, and then her family members who were contactable by phone. Another student said that communities felt ‘chosen’ at the moment; that you could select who you wanted to be in touch with, and it was almost a way of ‘outsourcing care’. Another mentioned that new rituals had emerged in her local village neighbourhood, kicked off by the Thursday clap for carers, leading to local people creating other ways to come together in the street, such as VE day where they set-up tables outside. Another student said it was so long since he had been in Beijing, now that he was back there again, he had to try to find people again who he had known a long time ago.

Next we created 'What do our publics look like now?' diagrams. Attempting to get away from a formal 'pdf' presentation, I sketched out the questions and stages of the diagram drawing onto paper beforehand, and held them up to the screen. I asked everyone to draw a square or circle and inside it to list groups of people, categories of people that they were seeing in real life, in 'physical space'.

I was interested in what different or new groups of people were identified, in the lock-down. For instance I was not staying where I usually live and discovered that I was coming into contact with; next-door neighbours, people who walk past the house, the vet, the nurse at the GP, dog walker friends and dogs who were our dogs friends, delivery drivers, shop-keepers and the public we see on walks. This changed again when I went back to London.

We drew overlapping bubbles and listed those we connected with through 'virtual' connections, then 'phone calls', emails, social media, and letters.

The idea was to then circle in a different colour, those categories of people who you didn't know. Or who you saw as 'the public'. I was intrigued as to if it could be used to locate a new audience/ public for an artwork, project or workshop.

Practice diagram by my mum, Sue Edginton

Holding up my publics diagram to the screen

Reflection: We did the activity a bit too quickly, as it turned out it takes a long time to think through all of this, and I did not have time to get proper feedback afterwards. I showed a few slides about this idea of the physical public becoming much closer, smaller and local, and then the opposite happening with the virtual public where it really expands to include an international community. The publics or groups I was working working with or had contact with still, had really changed too. From working in schools and care homes with lots of people and children face-to-face, this has changed. Now I was just in touch with people via zoom calls or colleagues via the phone, and all the work with children and elders had been put on hold for now. Where were all the people and how were they right now, what were they doing? A lot of people I talked to who work in the community found themselves asking similar questions.

Museum of the Street by Louise Ashcroft and her local neighbourhood, Walthamstow, London, May 2020

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otaviosequeira21234 · 5 years ago

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Otavio Sequeira’s (21234) Interdisciplinary Project Reflection

Intro

The interdisciplinary project was a seminal programme requiring students from faculties all across Lasalle to collaborate creatively to achieve a set of learning outcomes. The following accounts are narratives of my group’s working process and outcomes.

Day 1 Our entry to the IDP began with a collective presentation in the SIA theatre where we received an introduction to the project lead by the president of Lasalle, followed by two guest speakers. The first of which gave us a presentation on quantum computing while the latter gave us a presentation on the role of art in the fight against climate change. The presentations helped establish a context of topical discussion for the IDP, being the issue of tackling man made environmental issues as artists with respect to an evolving state of technology. They also elaborated on the project’s moniker “How is your window to the future”, implying that, as budding artists, we needed to adapt our skills to discuss how current world issues may impact our physical future. Following the presentation, all students were sent to their respective classrooms where we were to receive a briefing on how we were to approach both the projects topics and group exercises. Our class’s instructor, Cornelia Dinu, spent the first part of our session covering the projects methodology, mainly focusing on steps 1 and 2 which were; “Identify the issues/topic” and “Clearly define the context”. In order to divide the class into groups, instead of randomization or any form of systematic selection, he initiated a class discussion based under a simple question, which was; “What do you think is going to happen within the next 100 years?”. Discussion points across the class varied and covered various possibilities including; the advancement of AI capabilities, authoritarianism, utopian societies and even developments related to the viewing of art. I suggested that, as opposed to cultural and technological advancements, humanity would succumb to the weight of its current practices and the human population would technologically revert and diminish significantly, going through a ‘reset’ period. After each person contributed, Dinu would ask the rest of the class if they agreed with the speaker and why, to which at least two people would respond and give elaborations and suggestions. He then asked everyone who agreed with any of the speakers to sit with them and form their newly appointed groups. I ended up being joined by students from; animation, fashion, product design and film. Upon our formation, our discussion for the remainder of the session was focused on continuing my original discussion point and toying with the possibilities of project proposals. During this session, we mainly fixated upon steps 1 and 2 of the step method.

Optional Workshop: Devising Performance

Honestly speaking, I did no prior research into the specifications of the workshop before selecting it. Based on its name, I discerned that it would have something to do with developing approaches to performance art mediums. Noting that I am also from a performing arts background and wanted to innovate my own approach to musical performance, I selected the workshop based on this perception. The workshop DID cover this, but used acting and dramatic performance as a medium to demonstrate this. Our instructor, Felipe Cervera, began the workshop with an acting warmup. These warmups consisted of a series of activities highlighting physical and vocal expression from participants in order to reduce inhibitions. For professional actors, these warmups would increase fluidity and realism during rehearsals. Proceeding the warmups, we were separated into randomised groups where we were given the task of improvising a performance piece based on the IDP headline. There were no restrictions regarding how this piece could be performed stylistically. My group chose to make a slightly more ambiguous dialogue piece centered around cynicism and anxiety amongst college students. The second instruction from Felipe was to construct a piece responding to a previous group’s performance. Again, there were no guidelines specifying what this response needed to entail. For our group, and most others, we would spend a few minutes before physically performing the piece discussing which part of the group’s performance we needed to respond to. Almost all groups chose to respond in the form of a parody of a particular segment or aspect of the previous piece, whether it was the piece’s theme as a whole or even just a single phrase spoken by one of the actors. Needless to say, every group’s performance was rather awkward and slightly cringeworthy, and even with groups that had full-time acting students. If i were to discuss the importance of the workshop in facilitating the IDPs learning objectives, alongside sharpening each students expression and spontaneous capabilities, I would say it would be to demonstrate to performing arts students means through which their profession and art could be used to tackle and discuss global issues and, for students in more design and illustration centred courses, to expose them to alternate mediums through which such expression could be facilitated.

Day 2

Our group discussion was now focused on devising proposals for art pieces that could be used to express our chosen topic. Noting that grander real world solutions needed to be proposed, we decided that our art piece needed to reflect a situation in which our proposed prediction of the world’s apocalyptic future became a reality. Our proposals included; a satirical graphic novel, an audiovisual art exhibition, a holographic piece etc. After discussing each proposal with respect to the research requirements we decided that we were going to settle on a graphic novel, due to its conceptual simplicity and tangibility during a presentation. The rest of the session was focused on discussing art styles and content for the graphic novel. Eiris, the group’s animation student, had already created drafts of potential panels by the end of the session, while I had written parts of a storyboard. Examples of the draft can be seen below:

Day 3

On the third day, an idea was proposed by Marcus, the fashion student in our group, regarding how our product could become relevant in the event of an apocalypse. It was proposed that our product should be held within casing that could withstand the most extreme elements of an apocalyptic scenario. We spent time researching different types of materials which could hypothetically meet these requirements. Our final decision for the casing’s proposed materials included; buckypaper (known for having the strength of style but being a weak conductor of electricity) to construct the case’s outer shell and kevlar (having a higher melting and freezing point than buckypaper) to construct it’s inner shell. The nature of the graphic novel was also discussed during this period. Digital representations of the casing can be seen below:

The graphic novel was to be a sort of ‘survival guide’, detailing different means of surviving the apocalypse. Of course, the general tone of the novel would be humorous, and the ‘survival instructions’ would mainly include puns and play-on-word jokes based on various apocalyptic scenarios. This would be to satirise the current state of environmental conservation, stating that the featured apocalyptic scenarios would be experienced by humanity if we continued to act unsustainably. To construct the book itself, our proposed materials included; tyvek for its abilities as a writing material, on top of being radiation and waterproof. Of course, for our proposal and draft products, coated paper would be used for the book and the case prototype would be constructed via a 3D printer. We spent the rest of the session working on a powerpoint presentation for friday, as-well as writing a script for each member and constructing the following“mood-board” which would represent our aesthetic inspiration:

Day 4

For the final day of preparation, we were fully devoted to constructing the presentation. All research and material gathering had been finished at this point. Eiris had finished all panels of the graphic novel (one of which can be seen below).

Rahman was organising the printing of the graphic novels and gathered most of the resources and drafts we used during our planning stage. Marcus, Maximilian (Our group’s film student) and I spent the session working on the presentation slides.

Day 5

On our final day, our group arrived an hour and half before our class was scheduled to begin. By this stage, our powerpoint had been fully completed, we had a prototype for our casing and 5 copies of our graphic novel had been printed. We spent this period assigning sections for each group member to talk during and did 3 total run-throughs of the presentation before the class began. Our presentation went relatively well, with Dinu and the rest of the class being seemingly impressed by our prototypes and us answering any questions at the end to the best of our abilities. Future proposals and amendments we suggested to enhance our product included incorporating our previous product ideas to make the experience more immersive and using campus spaces to do so.

Conclusion

During the project, I felt like I hadn’t contributed as much as other members. I didn’t demonstrate the leadership skills of Marcus in coordinating our group and, as a music student, I didn’t have the illustration or design skills of Rahman and Eiris which would have allowed me to construct our prototypes. Despite creating a format for our groups early vision in our first class, I ended up relegating myself to helping out with the powerpoint and writing storyboard ideas. While I initially considered this to be a shortcoming, I realised that using whatever abilities I had available to me to ensure our project went smoothly was a noble thing to do, even if I lacked some of the more outstanding skillsets of my peers. I may not be able to draw, design or command, but, being an artist, I had the ability to contribute ideas creatively and, having experience with microsoft office from working on similar projects during highschool, I was able to do a large amount of our presentation work. In the end, our group’s presentation and proposal was able to follow most of the 7 method steps and demonstrate our collaborative efforts.

(This amazing illustration was drawn by Eiris)

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sky-casino · 6 years ago

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Ink-tainted Hands

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader

Word Count: 4,200+

a/n: I’ve been into brush pen calligraphy lately and this plot about having Jaehyun as your only classmate in a calligraphy workshop suddenly came into mind lol. Hope you enjoy!

It was a breezy and sunny summer day when you arrived for the first time at your new dorm near the university campus. You unpacked your luggage for a couple of hours till lunchtime and as famished as you were, you quickly ran down the stairs and headed out to find a place to eat. You spotted an America-style diner on a corner a few blocks away and to your happiness almost ran to the place. After a few minutes, the waitress on roller skates delivered chicken and waffles and a tall glass of milkshake to your table. After a quick prayer, you munched down on the meal.

You took a few minutes after finishing the food to just look around the diner and outside its windows. This would be your surroundings for the next three years and you couldn't say that you weren't pleased. Everything looked so bright, lively, and fun. Your mom wanted you to stay at home longer but you convinced her to let you move to the dorm two weeks before your freshman classes begin as you wanted to get accustomed to the place as early as you can. Also, you were pretty much thrilled to start living on your own and feel the independence.

As you observed your surroundings, you noticed the cork board that served as the diner's bulletin board. It piqued your interest so you stood up and walked to it. Pinned to it were announcements and event invitations of various kinds. There was something about a charity concert, a flea market, and list and schedules of different 2-week workshops offered by the city's public library that are on a discount for students. The last one caught your attention. In the list, there were workshops for calligraphy, sketching, painting, creative writing, and baking. You instantly clasped your hands together as a physical expression of your excitement upon reading the word 'calligraphy'. Calligraphy has been a rising trend in your area recently so you told yourself to learn it as soon as an opportunity arises, and it just popped up in your face like this.

"Schedule is MWF at 10am to 12 noon, 2 o'clock to 4pm, and 6pm to 8pm. Today is a Sunday and it.. already starts tomorrow?! Shit. I need to sign up today!" You exclaimed right before running out of the diner, but then you realized you had no idea where the library was and how to get there, so you went back to the diner to ask one of the waitresses.

You learned that it was just walking distance from the diner and so you ran and ran until you reached the entrance.

"Hello, may I know where I can sign up for a workshop?" You asked the security guard after you caught your breath.

"Good afternoon. Just proceed to the reception area."

"Alright, thanks."

You entered but almost quickly stopped in your tracks because you were surprised to see how beautiful and modern the library was. It wasn't the typical library, it's a learning hub.

"Good afternoon and welcome! How may I help you?" The receptionist greeted you.

"Oh, hi. I'm here to sign up for the calligraphy work shop?"

"Let me check if there are any slots left first."

You silently prayed in your mind that there is a single slot left.

"Hmm, we only have slots left for the 6PM time slot."

You didn't know whether to be happy or sad. You were glad that there was still a slot for you, of course. But you didn't exactly like to attend the latest time slot. You were hoping for either the 10AM or 2PM class. Nevertheless, you gratefully accepted and paid for your slot before leaving.

The next evening, you found yourself running down the stairs of your dorm and on the brink of being late to the workshop. You decided to take a 1-hour nap before you had to leave to make sure you won't feel sleepy during the late-night workshop.

You ended up being five minutes late and were pretty nervous of the possibility that your classmates will look at you and worse, the teacher will reprimand you.

"Whatever." You muttered before slowly opening the door.

First of all, the teacher wasn't there yet. Second, you only had one classmate. Yes, one. And he was looking at you as you entered the room. He was a bit far and you could only see his side profile, but damn you already knew was fine as hell.

You made your way the chair beside him on the first row.

"Hi." He said with a shy smile as you sat down.

"Hello."

"My name is Jaehyun." He said as he reluctantly offered his hand for a handshake. This time you realized he had dimples that made him ten times more attractive.

"Y/N. Nice to meet you."

"Looks like we're the only ones in this class. Maybe no one else signed up for this schedule?"

"Well, I didn't actually join this time slot. But I was told that this was the only time left that had available slots." You replied.

"Really? Same! When did you sign up?" Jaehyun asked excitedly, finding it amusing that you were in the same situation.

"Yesterday after lunch. You?" You asked with a laugh.

"Yesterday at around 5PM."

"We were probably the last two people who registered. So here we are." You said with a dramatic sigh, earning you a laughter from Jaehyun. His dimples now more prominent than ever and you were just staring at them, even long after his laughter died down and turned into a smile. You didn't know that he was staring at your face at the same time, resulting to a moment of awkward silence. He was about to laugh out of amusement again but the door opened, revealing a lady in her mid thirties, your teacher.

"Good evening and I'm very sorry for my tardiness." She quickly greeted.

"No worries, it's fine." You quietly replied, uncertain if you even had to respond to her apology.

"Hmm.. there are more students than I expected." Your teacher stated as she prepared the materials. You and Jaehyun looked at each other, confused.

"To be honest with you, I didn't expect someone will be in this time slot. But anyway, let's start. Come and get your materials: a nib, a straight nib holder, a small bottle of black ink, and practice sheets. For this week, you will be learning pointed pen calligraphy and for next week, we will use brush pens. These two tools result to two different styles of modern calligraphy, which what this workshop is about."

Holding the materials and listening to your teacher's words ignited your enthusiasm once more.

During your first night of workshop, you learned the fundamentals of pointed pen calligraphy: you should fully dip the nib into the ink until it reaches the base, light strokes are usually done upwards, and heavy strokes are normally done downwards. Before you know it, the two hours were already up.

"That's all for tonight. See you the day after tomorrow. Kindly clean up before you leave. The library closes in thirty minutes so move quickly. Good night." The teacher advised.

"Noted, ma'am. Thank you." You replied.

"Damn, I didn't think calligraphy was easy at all but I didn't expect it to be this hard. Look at my strokes! So messy!" Jaehyun sulked. You only knew each other for a couple of hours but you instantly feel comfortable with each other like close friends.

"Well, as what she told earlier. Practice makes-"

"Perfect." Jaehyun interrupted you.

"No. Progress. It's progress, Jaehyun. Because no one is perfect."

"Oh.. yup. You're correct." His embarrassed expression caused you to burst into laughter, and you had no idea how red his ears were at that moment.

"Alright, miss. We need to clean up our desks and our tainted hands. So I'd gladly appreciate if you could.. you know, stop laughing at me?" He was even more sulky by now and you decided to stop pissing off your new friend whom you discovered to be quite sensitive.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, mister." You raised both your hands to show you surrender while taking off the scratch newspapers on your desks that served as a protection from the ink.

"I'm starving. Would you like to go get dinner? Only if it's.. fine, of course. You might have somewhere else to go or someth-"

"Sure. I'd love to. I'm starving as well and I got zero plans after this." You were clueless as to why you felt some butterflies in your stomach to the prospect of having dinner with this guy, but you were sure you're suppressing a smile.

"It's up to you where we'll eat. You know a place?" Jaehyun asked you as both of you stepped out of the library.

"Hmm, there's a diner around that block. Wanna try?"

"Absolutely. I want some burgers and fries right now. You seem to be familiar with the place. You live here?"

"Oh, not at all. Just moved to my dorm yesterday morning. I had my lunch at the diner yesterday and it's actually the only restaurant I've seen so far."

"You got to be kidding me. I'm the same! Moved here yesterday after lunch." Jaehyun said as the two of you entered the diner.

"I'll have bacon, eggs, hashbrown, and chocolate milk shake." You told the waitress.

"I'll get the triple decker burger, fries, and iced coffee." Jaehyun ordered.

"Wait, okay. So, are we gonna go to the same university? Seoul National University?" You clarified with a hidden thrill in your voice.

"That's right. But I'm taking up Architecture. You?"

"Multimedia Arts. Wow, this is good, right? We already have each other as a friend even before classes start two weeks from now."

"Yup. At least we already know someone in school. Also, I was thinking, maybe we can practice what we learned from the workshop earlier? Maybe in the afternoon before the Wednesday session?" Jaehyun suggested as the waitress placed your orders on the table.

"That'd be great. I was planning to practice anyway."

Half an hour later, Jaehyun offered to walk you to your dorm.

"Thank you for accompanying me here, even though there was absolutely no need. I appreciate it."

"No problem. It's late already and I had to make sure you get back here safely." Jaehyun flashed you a shy smile.

"Well, see you on Wednesday afternoon at 3PM?"

"Yup. I'll text you where it will be. Which reminds me.. I don't have your number yet?"

"Oh, right." You said before proceeding to dictate your number.

"Thanks, will text you. Good night and it was really nice to meet you. You're cool."

"Wow, this is the first time someone, let alone a guy, has told me that I'm cool. Thank you very much, Jaehyun." You dramatically placed your hands on your chest.

"It's true, though. See you!" He saluted at you playfully before walking off.

You jogged up the stairs to finally take a shower and a good night's sleep, but most importantly, to get on the phone to call your best friend and tell her about this dashing young man who's also into calligraphy.

After doing your nightly beauty routine, you jumped into your bed as you excitedly waited for your best friend to pick up the call.

"Hey Seulgi! Sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Hi! Nope! I'm just binge-watching on Netflix. What's up?"

"Oh my god, I need to tell you something urgently." You said, emphasizing the last word.

"Spill!"

"I honestly can't believe that today is just my second day in this city but it's already going so great? It's surreal."

"Did you meet a cute guy?" Seulgi squealed.

"Yes, and he's not just cute. He's super cute. Jaehyun is his name." You said dreamily.

"How did you meet?"

"He's my only classmate in the calligraphy workshop I told you about yesterday. We had dinner tonight after the session and he invited me to practice calligraphy on Wednesday afternoon. He asked for my number too. Oh and, it turns out he's a dormer here too and we're both going to SNU. We clicked so well right away. God, this is too good to be true."

"It sounds perfect! I just hope that he's single. Please, God."

"I know we're going too fast but I agree. I really hope he is.”

“You need to find out soon if he's single and ready to mingle."

"But how will I ask that? I don't want him to find me weird."

"Just say something like 'Will your girlfriend attend SNU too?'. Assume innocently then watch out for his response. That's how we'll know."

"Great advice. Alright, I'll talk to you again soon. Good night."

"Night and sweet dreams!"

"Sweet dreams." You hung up and stared at the stars outside your window, thinking about dimple boy.

Wednesday afternoon arrived and you were on your way to the cafe that Jaehyun texted you the name of the night before. "He's so considerate." You thought to yourself as you read his text again to follow the directions from your dorm to the said cafe. "He could've just sent me the name and leave it to me to find how to get there but he gave clear directions. Sweet."

When you entered the cafe, you easily spotted him as his tall figure was standing and moving around his chosen table. You wondered for a second what kept him busy and you realized that he was covering the entire desk with newspaper as a safety measure. Neither of you wants to stain the cafe's table or you might end up cleaning or paying for the damage.

"Hey, sorry I'm late." You greeted as you put your bag down on one of the chairs.

"No problem. Have you ordered?"

"Not yet."

"You can place your order first, I already placed mine."

"Alrighty."

When you came back with your chicken-pesto sandwich and iced macchiato, he was already sitting and settled down, ready to start. Then you suddenly remembered what Seulgi said the other day, “You need to find out soon if he’s single and ready to mingle.”

You cleared your throat while you felt your cheeks burn before asking, “So, do you have anyone else attending SNU too? Like friends and.. a girlfriend? You could hear your heartbeats thumping, scared of what his reaction might be.

“I have some high school batch mates, but they’re not taking up Architecture and we’re not really close. I don’t have a girlfriend. But I’m flattered that you think I have. Thank you.” The last part made him laugh and you laughed with him as a sign of relief.

You spent the next couple of hours bent down as you repeatedly practiced writing the entire English alphabet, both the capital and small versions of each letter.

"My back and neck are in pain." You whined.

"Same here. I didn't know calligraphy could be so physically taxing." Jaehyun said in an almost defeated tone."Let's stretch it out." He continued, the two of you standing up and doing every stretching exercise for the upper body that you know.

When you sat back down, Jaehyun absentmindedly rubbed his right knuckle on his nose, leaving a medium-sized black stain.

"Why are you laughing?"

You couldn't even answer him as you continued to laugh hysterically.

"What's wrong?"

"Your nose-" Your laugh interrupted your own words.

Jaehyun quickly used the front camera of his phone to check his face and you actually saw the moment he got embarrassed.

"Shit." He muttered, frantically looking for a clean napkin on the table but you used it up already.

"Here, lucky for you I have wet wipes." You handed the item to him, feeling sorry for laughing so much at your embarrassed friend.

"Thank you."

"Sorry, should've told you sooner instead of laughing my ass off."

Jaehyun looked at you, surprised. "No worries. I'm not mad or anything." He assured you with his dimples.

You were about to pick up your pen when Jaehyun suddenly told you that it was already 5:30. The two of you cleaned up and packed your bags quickly and walked briskly to the library for your second calligraphy session.

The second week of the sessions just began and you found yourself more excited for this than the last one, all because of the new tool you will be using: colorful brush pens. Oh, and of course your cute classmate is also a reason to look forward to the new week.

"Thank God, this is easier and more fun to use." Jaehyun said after the teacher went to the restroom.

"I know right! I've always had a good feeling about brush pens." You whispered as you tirelessly practiced using your pink brush pen, struggling to contain your vigor which made Jaehyun chuckle and gaze at you longer than usual.

On Wednesday that week, your teacher gave you a final assignment: write a word or a short phrase using your choice of method: pointed pen or brush pen. "Submission on Friday. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"It's exciting but I don't know what to write." You said after the teacher made her exit.

"Hmm, yeah. Same. But I don't wanna think about it yet. Dinner?"

"Let's go."

Thursday morning, you texted Jaehyun if he wanted to meet with you at the cafe to work on the assignment.

"Sorry, I can't. I have other errands to attend to and can only work on it late tonight. But see you tomorrow! Really sorry!"

You were dismayed and it made getting up from bed a bit harder.

"It's totally fine. Yup, see you! :)" You sent.

You washed your face and made yourself a cup of coffee before sitting down by your desk. Pens and papers were laid out and you just stared at them for five minutes, contemplating what word or phrase you wanted to write. Which colors to be used will follow later.

The next day arrived and it was also the last day of your calligraphy workshop. You were a bit somber as you walked to the room, clutching your assignment to your chest. You texted Jaehyun earlier if he wanted to meet up before the session so you could go together but he said that he had to fix something in his dorm room and that you should go ahead. And you did, that's why you're now alone in the room, ten minutes early.

You looked at your work and slowly smiled at it as a physical manifestation of your high level of satisfaction. A few minutes later, the door opened again and you expected to see Jaehyun, but it was the teacher instead.

"Good evening." She greeted.

"Good evening, ma'am." You replied, but at the back of your head you actually wanted to say a sarcastic remark about the fact that this is the only time she was punctual, and it's the last session.

"Where's he?"

"P-probably on his way already. Just had to fix something in his dorm."

She replied with a nod. It was awkward for you to be alone with her and you repeated in your mind for Jaehyun to arrive already. After a few seconds, he busted into the door, panting.

"Sorry I'm late." He huffed as he sat down beside you.

"No worries. We'll end this session early as I just need you to present your works. Explain why you wrote what you wrote and why you used the method you used. Then before you go, I'll give you your certificates. Y/N, you first." Your no-nonsense teacher instructed, taking a seat in the same row as you and Jaehyun.

"Okay." You said as you stood up and went to the front.

"Hi. This is what I wrote: Let New Adventures Begin. I decided to write this phrase because I'm... about to start college next week. I also moved here from another city so it's my first time to be independent. I'm excited but also very nervous and clueless about things so I wrote this to encourage and motivate myself. I used brush pens and blended orange and pink colors because I wanted it to look bright. I decided to use this method because brush pen calligraphy is not that strict when it comes to rules, unlike the pointed-pen method. I can be as creative as I can be and show my personality with this method and tools. Yeah, I think that's all. Thank you." You finished with a nervous but relieved smile.

"Very good, Y/N. Both your work and presentation is excellent. Jaehyun, your turn."

"Thank you so much, ma'am." You said as Jaehyun slowly rose up from his seat.

Once in front, he took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "Sorry, I'm just a bit nervous."

You giggled and offered him an encouraging smile.

"Okay so, this is what I wrote."

You were surprised to see your name. "My name?"

"Yup. Your name, because I want to give this to you as a gift." Jaehyun said with a nervous chuckle before biting his lip.

"What?"

"Jaehyun, please make your presentation cohesive." Your teacher said as both of you were clueless about what Jaehyun was saying.

"Sorry. But.. yes. I wrote your name because I was planning to give this to you as a gift. You've been a very cool friend and you always patiently help me improve my calligraphy skills and we really get along well and fortunately, we will be studying in the same university and I don't know but... I just like you so much. I enjoy our time together a lot and I hope that even if this workshop ends we will remain close friends because..." Jaehyun interrupted his own ramblings as he looked at you with a serious gaze. You felt yourself sweating a bit and holding your breath.

"....because I want to see if we can be more than that." He finally said. "Oh and before I forget, I used brush pens because you love brush pens. Also, I was late not because I was fixing something in my room but because I had to buy a frame in the bookstore so I could frame this. I just didn't want to give you a paper, I wanted it to be more presentable. This is also why I rejected your invitations to work together for this assignment, because it’s a surprise. And yes, I know this is not the best calligraphy work but I really did my best." He chuckled.

"Alright, I didn't expect such a presentation. But well done, anyway. Just avoid rambling on and on. Here are your certificates proving that you finished and did well on this workshop." Your teacher shared as you and Jaehyun locked eyes with unreadable expressions.

"Guys?" Your teacher called out.

"Sorry, ma'am!" You said as you rushed to her to get your certificate, not knowing that Jaehyun's gaze still lingered on you.

"Thank you for participating." She said as she held out her hand for a handshake.

"We should be the ones to thank you, ma'am. We really enjoyed and learned a lot." You shook her hand.

"Y/N's right, ma'am. Thanks a lot." Jaehyun said during his turn for the handshake.

"You're very welcome. Alright, I'll be leaving now. Seems like... the two of you have a lot to talk about." She smirked.

"Yes we do, ma'am." Jaehyun answered and you were scared of the looming conversation you two will be having.

"Okay, goodbye." Your teacher said.

"Goodbye, ma'am." You and Jaehyun said in unison.

You went and packed your things right after she left, the room now filled with silence.

"H-here. This is for you." Jaehyun stuttered as he handed his framed work to you.

"Thank you so much, Jaehyun. It's beautiful." You graciously took the work from his hands, glancing up at him as many times as you could, which was twice because you still felt shy about everything he said earlier.

"I'm sorry for doing that earlier. I know I should've talked to you in private. I put you in an uncomfortable situation, I'm sorr-"

"It's fine. Don't worry. I was surprised but it's okay, I'm okay." You assured him with a smile, patting his shoulder.

"I hope this doesn't... affect our friendship." Jaehyun said with furrowed brows, obviously still worrying despite your assurance.

"It doesn't. It won't. You know..." You guessed it was your turn to confess.

"Hm?"

"I.. I like you too. You're cute and dorky and full of energy all the time, always curious and enthusiastic. And I can't stop looking at your dimples!" Confessing lightens the heart indeed, you thought to yourself.

The two of you were giggling in the atmosphere of first love until Jaehyun put on his serious face.

"I just want you to know that I don't want you to feel any pressure, I can definitely wait." Jaehyun said and you swore to the gods you felt your heart swelling with love and admiration.

"I know. It's better if we take things slow, right?"

"Of course! Friends to best friends to girlfriend and boyfriend." He teased, causing you to smack his arm. "By the way, I found a cute coffee shop some blocks away from here. Wanna try?"

"Is that even a question?" You sassed, rolling your eyes.

"Well then, shall we go now, my lady?" He said as he dramatically offered his bent right arm for you to link your left. You accepted his arm and found your way out of the library.

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ardentmuse · 6 years ago

Text

Perchance a Parchment (George Weasley x Reader) - Part 2

Harry Potter - George Weasley x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.7k

Summary: Writing letters to the mysterious and flirty Rhubarb may be fun, but real life, and the difficulties of your shop, are bound to get in the way.

Series Masterlist // Masterlist

A/N: Thanks for your patience! I hope you enjoy.

You were part way through your mug of morning coffee and fully through the work of restocking the shelves before opening. You were just beginning to tackle cataloguing the latest deliveries -- new collections of the adventures of Tiago de Paula, world renowned treasure hunter and ladykiller, by the incomparable Quetzalli Flores, your favorite teacher from your short stint at Castelobruxo -- when the bell above your door rang. You jumped at the unexpected sound, spilling your coffee on the floor behind the counter. Though the ring being a surprise was silly. It was 8:58am, just in time for your shop to open.

“‘Mornin’, boss,” Patricia sung as she swept in. She had her hat and coat on the rack before she even notices your spill. “Need some help with that?”

You smiled as you moved to the other side of the desk to retrieve your wand and with a quick wave the spill was already forgotten.

“So,” Patricia said as she took a giant plop into the large armchair that divided the children and adult parts of the store, “What’s got you so jumpy?”

Without even looking, Patty reached over and took a big swig of the cup of tea she knew you would have sitting there for her. This was your morning routine, lazily stocking shelves and cleaning until the local moms brought around their toddlers for the 10am story session, all the while drinking your morning beverages so slowly they grew cold multiple times over and all the silly personal stories of the previous day were exhausted. You too took your seat beside her, watching as her round halo of curls compressed as she relaxed her head further into the cushions.

“Just didn’t sleep well last night.”

Patty raised an eyebrow. “Finally had that good night romp with Tom you’ve been craving?”

The mention of your boyfriend made you feel guilty. Tom hadn’t spent the night in weeks. Or was it months now? And honestly, he hadn’t crossed your mind all morning. You really did need to end it…

“No,” you managed between sips, “Nothing like that.”

You both sat in silence for a few moments companionably. Patty had this way of simply waiting and always getting the information she wanted. She had the air of a co-conspirator, trusting and easy and a tad bit devious. Just a simple raise of her eyebrows as she sipped her tea always had you talking.

“Here,” you finally said, handing her two crumpled pieces of parchment from your pocket.

Patty unraveled the first, reading the words and pausing part way.

“Peaches?” she asked, “Your best friend back in America? Why didn’t you send it?”

Without meeting her eyes, you said, “I did. Keep reading.”

You watched Patty through your lashes as she scanned the page and moved to the next. The light of recognition came across her face, then confusion, and then laughter as she folded the letters, finished, in her lap.

“Oh boy! Someone has a secret admirer!”

“It’s not like that,” you said, “He doesn’t know me. He just knows I’m female and probably a young adult given the content and thought he’d flirt a bit. I mean, he could be some old creep with some weird owl-intercepting fetish for all we know.”

“Well, I think he sounds cute. And he has surprisingly nice handwriting.”

She stood and began opening the crate containing the latest Flores novels.

“And,” she said, more to the box than you, “Rhubarb has a point. Why don’t you have a passionate romance? A woman on the verge of an engagement shouldn’t feel that way.”

You knew she was avoiding your gaze now, worried how you would respond.

You downed the last bit of your coffee. “You’re right,” you said as tears pricked at your eyes, but you swallowed them down.

Hearing the hiccup, Patty returned to your side.

“Listen, friend. I know you don’t want to hear it, but you have to rip off the Band-Aid, as the Muggles say. Tom loves you. He wants you happy and if he’s not doing that, then he needs to know. In the meantime, why don’t you go upstairs and respond to Mr. Rhubard and I’ll get the story room ready.”

“You sure?”

Patty smiled wide, “Positive.”

You began the trek back towards your office when you heard Patty scream.

“What kind of codename is Rhubarb anyway?”

You chuckled as you sat down at your desk. Diomedes came to rest on your shoulder almost immediately.

“Maybe he’s old and sour,” you shouted in return.

“Or maybe he’s tall, thick, and red,” she cooed seductively.

“Red?” you teased as you pulled out your parchment, realizing you still needed to send your post to Peaches as well.That was probably why this Rhubarb returned the first letter. What a sweet gesture, you thought. Maybe he wasn’t some creep after all.

“You know,” Patricia called, “Ginger.”

You laughed once more, shaking your head. Patty knew too well of your weakness for redheads. You mind was running with images of strong, pretty, thoughtful men with soft red locks and freckles across their noses, an image that was vaguely familiar to you somehow. But it was an imagine you liked regardless.

George had been upstairs all day, wanting to intercept any owls before Fred could, not that Fred cared about the post at all. But after that letter he sent, he was feeling more embarrassed than anything. A single letter flies in his window, wording the things his heart had been saying for weeks and he immediately spills his soul out to this unknown woman. He felt foolish and silly, cringing at himself all night about the last line of his letter.

But Fred had been right. He’d been avoiding women for years now. Since the end of the war, the loss of his ear, and the failed whirlwind couple months with Angelina, he wanted to just focus on himself for a bit.

A bit quickly expanded into a couple years though and now George found himself desiring something different from his nights. He didn’t just want to be sitting on the couch joking with Lee and drinking beers with his brother. He wanted more.

As time went on, he found himself noticing those signs of love that filled his childhood home; the way Ginny always ran into Harry’s arms when he returned from a long few days away with work, the way Harry clung to the fabric of Ginny’s shirts like she was the only thing tethering him to the world, the way Hermione and Ron teased each other, how a laugh could be so much more than just a sign of humor but an expression of utter peace and contentment, the way Fleur lit up every time she caught Bill’s eyes across the room, and the way Bill lit up every time he heard one of his children say, ‘mama,” and even the way he’d occasionally overhear his parents call each other by ridiculous pet names and exchange soft touches that lifted even the heaviest tension.

George hadn’t been home in a few weeks. Going home made it insanely obvious that he was indeed alone.

A knock at the window pulled him from his thoughts and he felt his heart rate increase as the tawny owl from the day before tilted his head to seek entrance. For a moment, George considered not letting the bird in. The inevitable rejection was going to ruin his day. He was sure the letter would contain a right rebuke from the sender, a collection of strung together statements about how truly creepy it was to respond to someone else’s mail and a quick request to cease all contact.

But ever curious, George opened the window anyway and found attached a letter tied with pretty red string and a loopy, friendly “Rhubarb” upon the scroll.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he opened and read the letter.

Rhubarb,

Thank you for taking the time to send me back my original letter. Peaches would have been very disappointed to not receive my incoherent early morning ramblings. You are a true knight and for that I am grateful.

In regards to your question, you could say my life is not lacking for love, just not the passionate kind I had hoped for in my youth. But there is always the future. I’m still young and free to explore what the world has to offer.

I am lucky in some ways. I have an amazing community around me and a family I adore. I moved around a lot as a child, so I have friends on every continent. In that regard, I am never really alone.

In some ways, I got the adventure I always imagined. I just didn’t know it at the time. Maybe that is the secret to all of this. Life is always filled with the things desire, but only in reflection. Each dream is just an effort to reclaim a feeling we didn’t know was special until it was over.

So Rhubarb, what are you seeking? What’s your dream? What special feeling are you trying to reclaim?

Looking forward to hearing from you again.

Sincerely,

Cherry

ps. Your handwriting is lovely.

George was beaming by the time he read those last words. The letter wasn’t anything revolutionary. It didn’t rock his psyche the way the first letter did, but it still spoke to a level of honest and forthright communication his life had been missing. With Fred, everything was a joke, a light-hearted spat, or a source of wonder. Things like anxiety, fear, doubt, and insecurity didn’t exist in the mind of Fred Gideon Weasley. Anytime George mentioned something as simple as a worry resulted in a jab and a chuckle and, most important a change of conversation.

But now, for the first time in quite a long time, someone was asking George what he wanted, what he hoped for, what he feared. Someone, a stranger, cares what he thinks.

“George!” a voice called from the bottom of the stairs, “Get your rump down here to talk to these real estate people!”

George sighed and patted the owl on the head. Penning a reply would have to wait.

“And this,” the real estate agent began, all boisterous confidence, “is the building I was thinking for your new workshop. As a storefront, people walking by would be able to see all the cauldrons going. It would be a spectacular for sales, I think.”

George took in the pretty wooden exterior of the shop just a few doors down from their own. He had never bothered to observe the tiny bookstore housing titles and authors he had never seen before. But the lights inside were warm and inviting. He could see the colorful spines across the oak shelves, all arranged and sorted expertly. Tables covered in stacks of parchment and pens, a counter covered in postcards and gift bags, and plush chairs for reading in every available corner.

But the thing that caught his eyes right away was the bay window, curtained in plush velvet. And just beyond, in a small wooden chair, he saw that same beautiful face from the night before. Only today there was no scowl but instead an animated expression; eyebrows in the air, mouth wide with wonder, and cheeks full and happy. She held a book in her hand, open to a small circle of young children packed together, their parents hovering and chatting at the counter just beyond. He watched as characters lept from the pages of the story, small sparks and lights stealing the toddlers’ attention. And as the woman bent forward in a mock whisper, he heard the children burst out into laughter. George thought just maybe he had never seen a more beautiful sight.

“But it isn’t empty,” Fred said in confusion to the real estate agent.

“Oh, it will be soon,” he responded, with such a dismissive tone that George wanted to spit.

“Something caught your eye, brother,” Fred called, snapping George from his gaze. When Fred followed George’s line of sight, he sighed. “Ah, just your type.”

George shook his head and started the walking back to their shop. If they had to buy someone out of their business, did it have to be an enchanting, vibrant woman who knew just how to engage children?

That night, Diomedes finally returned, along with another bird you did not recognize. Diomedes rushed past the snowy owl to find home upon your bed, a letter strung snuggly to his leg. You hated to admit just how curious you were about the letter from Rhubarb but the idea of some mild flirtation, of feeling wanted and stimulated intellectually made you happier than you cared to register.

You started with Diomedes, who upon being relieved of his parchment flew swiftly into his cage.

Dear Cherry,

May I call you dear? It seems silly to treat you like a stranger given the kind of things I wish to share with you.

I too can say I am lucky to have what I have. My family is lovely, though I have often been the least remarkable among them. I have never had a moment where I haven’t felt loved and cared for. But what you say is true. The war took a lot from us. I look back on the time before the war with much joy and admiration, though it probably was not as idyllic as I remember.

I can honestly tell you I am not sure what I want. I have one very strong memory that I go back to when I need positivity: my brother and I flying in our family orchard first thing, teaching our little sister how to fly before our mum noticed she was missing. I guess if I had to put it into words then--

You were interrupted in your reading by the snowy owl pecking harshly at your hand.

“Alright, you fearsome devil,” you said to the bird as you pecked the small parchment off its leg, abandoning your letter from the enticing Mr. Rhubarb to your bed.

This parchment only had a handful of words.

Sorry, Y/N. Can’t extend your lease at the current rate. We need a new deposit of 1000 galleons by the 30th or you’ll need to vacate.

I’m sorry, dear. I really do love your store.

The signature was scratchy but it was indeed your landlord. You felt your stomach tighten and the tears prick at your eyes. You thought you had more time.

Your only thought was to grab the pillow from against your headboard, press it tightly to your face, and scream, a raw primal scream that let the tension ease from all of your muscles. You screamed a second time for good measure, but a voice pulled your face from the pillow before you could let out a third.

“Babe, is everything okay in there?” Tom asked from his place in your kitchen cooking your dinner. You had forgotten just how much could be heard through your paper thin walls.

Immediately, you snatched up the letters and stuffed them under your mattress, taking extra caution to make sure the one from a particularly flirty potential suitor was properly tucked away. You just had time to wipe the tears from your eyes as the door cracked open and an adorable head of messy brown locks, one that used to make your heart flutter and now did very little, poked in.

“All good?” he asked.

“Stubbed my toe,” you managed.

Tom’s eyes raked your body and with a nod in conformation, he left, shutting the door behind him.

Before it even closed, you flung yourself down on the mattress. You knew eventually you’d need to go out there and eat the dinner he prepared and feign interest in the latest economics news, but for now you would lay here in a starfish upon your mattress and fully and sincerely cry.

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt, @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug

Harry Potter tags: @tessimagines, @0-lost-in-stereo-0, @whysoseriouspadfoot

Perchance a Parchment tags: @cucumberinmyass, @justducky0423, @thequeen-ofnerds, @yuaasa, @comic-creature, @hermionebennet, @semicharmedkindofali, @sugerquill, @can-i-fangirl-yet, @doct0rstrange, @igotmadskills, @otherthingsinhead, @olixerwxxd, @caramiriel, @gryffinclxw, @lizmar20, @indicisive-af, @confettidreameryouwhoreo-blog, @hellizhelusive2, @kaitsubaki, @dooriha, @justfollowtheroad, @memogorgon, @xxsophie-raabxx

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #hp #hp imagine #reader insert #weasley twins #perchance a parchment

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myrecordcollections · 5 years ago

Photo

AK Musick

@ 1972 Germany Pressing

*****

AK Musick formed back in the early 70’s. They were interested in producing music in a very democratic way. Their legendary LP is now a very rare item of what I would call “German experimental era”. More about it in the following interview with Hans Kumpf, clarinetist. Special thanks goes to René Debot for helping me to get in contact with Hans.

There is not much known about your group AK Musick. Tell us about the formation of the band? Where did you find other members? We all five members were studying at the Teacher’s College (“Pädagogische Hochschule”) in Ludwigsburg close to Stuttgart in Southern Germany. Three of us (Alfred Lell, Winfried Koch, Hans Kumpf) had the same clarinet teacher. The singer Angela Weber I have known already from my hometown of Schwäbisch Hall, where we joined the same pupils’ choir. The Keyboarder Helmut Grab also studied with the famous composer of contemporary music Helmut Lachenmann, a Luigi Nono alumnus. Were you and other band members of AK Musick involved with any other projects before 1972? Helmut Grab was busy in improvised rock music; the others were more active in classical music. I was the only one who was really involved in jazz before. Let’s share a few words about your childhood and teen years. You grew up in Stuttgart. What did you study and what influenced you the most? I was born in Stuttgart in 1951, but the next six years I grew up in Markgröningen in the Stuttgart area. My parents moved then to Schwäbisch Hall, quite in the middle between Stuttgart and Nuremberg, in 1957. There I was impressed by foreign students of the University in Heidelberg who performed in my hometown: I could listen to the original music of Africa, Asia and America. When I was a teenager I was already interested in the music from the whole wide world. In an alternative youth club (“Alpha 60”) I attended interesting jazz concerts (like pianist Wolfgang Dauner and trombonist Albert Mangelsdorff) and later I organized “music weeks” (including classical + contemporary music, jazz an advanced pop/folk music). In my school, which was specialized in music, I as a pupil/student had the responsibility for culture. In May 1969 I organized a bus trip to Stuttgart, where Jimi Hendrix performed – even some months before the Woodstock festival. When I was eight years old, I began with a recorder (simple flute), later I learned in lessons trumpet, piano and clarinet. Now clarinet is my main instrument. AK Musick is a really avant-garde project consistent of free jazz influences. What can you tell me about the concept behind it and what does the name actually mean? We all were eager in new things, we wanted to make music in a very democratic way. Everybody had a classical education – this was the base. Of course we were also influenced by the avant-garde composer Helmut Lachenmann (who also was in the studio during our LP recording). He writes very intellectual compositions, and the parameters are very important (this we learned with the Stockhausen alumnus Johannes Fritsch in Darmstadt, too!). AK Musick? “AK” is a German abbreviation for “Arbeitskreis” (“workshop”), which was used at the universities quite often at that time. “Musick” is a mixture of the English “music” and the German word “Musik”. Even in medieval times they wrote “musick” in England. And in “Musick”, there is included the English word “sick”. We had humor.

Is the musical content a live-recording from the 13. German Jazz Festival Frankfurt, that held on 14.11.1972? Would you like to tell us a bit more about the pieces on the LP?

No, no – be careful! In March 1972 we played at the German Jazz Festival in Frankfurt at the Newcomer’s Concert – with more than thousand listeners and “live” a radio/TV recording. In the same hall the Rolling Stones and Janis Joplin performed before, later Miles Davis and many others. On November 14 in the same year we recorded the LP at the famous Bauer Studios in Ludwigsburg. We prepared the studio session very carefully – time is money. At least we did it in three hours. The sound engineer was Martin Wieland, who had recorded before the popular cologne concert by Keith Jarrett for the ECM label.

“Impro-Vision” sounds like electronical music – but we used only natural instruments, “Hava” is a feature for three clarinets, “Ron Do” is like a classical rondo, but with solo improvisations as the new parts. The theme we played only once, and it was later technically copied to fulfill the rondo form.

The “composition” of the first track of the AKM LP.

What can you tell me about the label AKM Records. Was this your label? The cover artwork and everything is all handmade. How did you decide to do so and how many copies were released. I believe 200?

We released 150 LP’s. We were students and had less money. Therefore it was the cheapest way to make the cover art for our own as handwork – with templates. The booklet we printed with the help of the student’s association. We worked for a December weekend at the floor of the Ludwigsburg teachers college. It made fun. It’s crazy: Today at Ebay they pay more than 700 Dollars for our old and historic long playing disc.

How long did the project last and did you play anywhere else? Are there perhaps any other recordings still unreleased? Besides of Frankfurt, we only played in the area round Stuttgart. AK Musick as quintet xisted for a decade. In 1980 we did the performances “Spuren einer Russlandreise” („Tracks of a Russian Trip“) after Winfried Koch and me were in Moscow and Leningrad/St.Petersburg. It was a multimedia combination of art and music. We all stayed friends, but we didn’t play in the old quintet ensemble. For instance, Angela Weber, Alfred Lell and me were singing in the choir of the musical “Cabaret” at the Stuttgart State Theater…

Twelve years ago I went with a radio tape of the Frankfurt festival concert to the Bauer Studios for digitalizing the analog recording. Then I burnt CD’s for my own. That is all.

‘Free Blacks’ is your next music project. You joined forces with Perry Robinson. Wolfgang Dauner was also part of this album. What can you tell me about it? This was again a very limited issue? Perry Robinson was famous as the leading free jazz clarinet player. So he was interesting for me. I heard him several times before, but when he played in 1974 (2 years after AK Musick) at the Frankfurt festival I spoke with him, and soon we settled a duo on a bark bench outside the festival hall. We played in harmony like two brothers. After that I organized a studio recording in Stuttgart. It was after a concert he did with Gunter Hampel – between 1 and 3 o’clock in the night. Because there was time left for the LP I added three solo pieces. There is one (“Mona-a-gogo”) with a little help of my friend Wolfgang Dauner. He had invited me for recordings at the Radio Stuttgart before, and after that I arranged this peace for me as a clarinet on two different tracks. These two tracks he transformed with a ring modulation of his synthesizer. I produced 200 LP’s of “Free Blacks” (it means the free black clarinet instruments…)

AKM Records released ‘In Time’, feat. Theo Joergensmann, Bernd Konrad, ‘Jam Session Leningrad’, feat. Anatoly Vapirov, Sergey Kuryokhin, Alexander Alexandrov and ‘Jam Session Moscow’, feat. John Fischer, Leonid Chizhik, Alexey Zubov. What can you tell us about projects you had together with previously mentioned musicians? You know, I established the AKM label for my own – with no business strength. Just for fun. My clarinet colleague Theo Jörgensmann (we met us in Remscheid – close to Cologne – at a jazz clinic in 1969) had no own label, then I said he could write “AKM” on the sleeve. My second trip to the passed away Soviet Union was in December 1980/January 1981 when I had my regularly vacancies as a teacher. But then I smuggled my clarinet in and a tape out – Jam Session Leningrad. There I improvised together with saxophonist Anatoly Vapirov, bassoon player Alexander Alexandrov and the late pianist Sergey Kuryokhin. I was the first Western jazz avant-gardist to play in USSR together with resident musicians. I came as normal tourist and had to hide my ambitions against the KGB. Some months later, I traveled with my New York based friend John Fischer (piano), to Russia and we did a Session in Moscow together with the well-known players Leonid Chizhik (p), and Alexey Zubov (ts). Chizhik now lives in Munich, Zubov moved to Los Angeles. In 1984 you released ”On a Baltic Trip” album on Leo Records. What’s the story behind it and what followed after this? Leo Feigin is a refugee of former Leningrad, who worked for the Russian Service of the BBC in London and found the label “Leo Records”. He had presented my LP’s recorded in Leningrad and in Moscow already in the British radio. And so he was so friendly to release my sessions done in the Baltic metro poles of Riga, Vilnius and Tallinn as a “real” record company. In Estonia, Lithuania and Latvia I played together with leading jazz musicians there. Of course I was quite famous in whole Soviet Union thanks to the underground propaganda of the free jazz dissidents…

What are you currently working on? In meantime I am retired as a teacher. I am busier in writing articles and working as a photographer than as a clarinetist. So have no special planes as a musician. If the people ask to perform with my Polish wife Katarzyna “Polish Poetry + Jazz”, I can do it. On other sides I like to play at openings of art exhibitions, and often I play a kind of Klezmer music at events for killed Jews by the Nazi regime. If you look back in the late 60’s and 70’s. How did you see this German scene. You were more part of jazz scene, rather than rock experimental scene with acts such as Amon Düül II, Embryo etc. But were you connected with what was happening at the time and what was the scene in your city? Hitler time was not long far away. We wanted to have a better Germany. We wanted to make a democratic and world open minded music. Of course, I have known and listened to Embryo, Amon Düül, but it was no influence to AK Musick. When we played at the Frankfurt festival Paul and Limpe Fuchs (often partner of the piano player Friedrich Gulda!) joined us as surprising guests on the stage. The best concert of my hometown Schwäbisch Hall in 1969 was “Black Sabbath” with Ozzy Osbourne… They played for 600 Deutsche Marks (approx. 200 Dollars) in a former church.

AK Musick with Limpe Fuchs. Thanks for taking your time. Would you like to send a message to It’s Psychedelic Baby readers?

Keep the eyes and ears open. International understanding is so important. Maybe music can help.

Klemen

#AK Musick #Jazz #Free Improvisation #Experimental #Germany #1972

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mariequitecontrarie · 6 years ago

Text

All of Me: Chapter 16

The Fic: Belle French is a pudgy librarian who’s in love from afar with “town monster” and ace reporter, Mr. Gold. Little does she know, he’s head-over-heels in love with her, too. Chapter Summary: Belle and Emma go shopping in Portland to prepare for a big night out with Gold and Neal at the Storybrooke Winter Gala. Emma runs into an old high school rival and shares a secret. Rating: T A/N: Guys, it’s been 84 years! Much love to @galactic-pirates and @magnoliatattoo for putting up with me. Artwork by the talented @wizzygold @a-monthly-rumbelling: “I’m not dressed for this.”

Stay with Me (bet. Ch 9&10) | Spiked Chocolate (bet. Ch 16&17) | Pieces of Me (Q&A)

ON AO3

“The quickest way to know a woman is to go shopping with her.” - Marcelene Cox

***Three weeks after Belle has moved out of her parents’ house and into Marco’ s.***

Belle picked up the telephone to call Gold at the newspaper, her day planner spread open on the desk.

Yes, it was old-fashioned, writing things down on a calendar and lugging the thick planner around in her bag, but she liked old-fashioned. She liked books, and fountain pens, and the rustle of paper—both crisply new and faded with age. Besides, she didn’t trust iPhone calendar apps.

She’d forgotten Daddy and Edith’s anniversary one too many times thanks to those finicky electronic calendars. Whenever it happened, she rushed to write a card at the last minute but instead of being grateful, Edith seemed to enjoy shaming her for “neglecting her family.” Personally, Belle felt anniversaries were about the couple celebrating each other…but her thoughts were veering way off course. If she ventured down the dark road of worrying over Edith, she could end up in bed with a box of snowball cakes for the rest of the day.

But falling into depression was less likely now that she no longer called her father and Edith’s house home. After three weeks of living with Marco, there was no denying how much better she felt; the freedom of coming and going as she pleased was a heady sensation. Sometimes Gold joined her at Marco’s house in the evening and the three of them played Scrabble together. Once, she had insisted Marco not cook dinner after cooking at the restaurant all day long and dragged him to Emma’s house for a family dinner where Henry chattered about school and his friends and made everyone laugh until their sides ached.

But most often, Marco would come home from the restaurant and the two of them would eat a pasta and salad dinner, and then spend the evening in the comfortable quiet of his small, cozy living room. His overstuffed couch and chairs were such a contrast to the hard, slick leather furniture Edith filled her house with, and Belle loved sinking into the corner of Marco’s huge couch and covering up with a fluffy throw blanket.

Sometimes they would make small talk about their days but on most evenings, Marco would be bent over a notebook making notes for the next day’s specials at the restaurant, and she would pull out her laptop to research books to add to the library. Usually, either the Cooking Channel or HGTV played in the background. She’d had an older television in her bedroom at her parents’ but no cable connection. Marco, however, had a new flatscreen and Belle indulged in her love of watching House Hunters International, which combined two of her favorite pastimes: seeing home interiors and a peek at exotic destinations.

Gone were the days of being chased into her bedroom, hiding her diary, and hoarding snacks. Some days, the years spent in Edith and her dad’s frosty household seemed like a bad dream.

At least twice a week, Belle offered to pay Marco rent. It didn’t seem right to eat his food and live in his space and offer nothing in return. But he refused every time she asked. “No,” he had said this morning over breakfast, flipping eggs with a stubborn twist of his lips. “We are family, Bella. La famiglia. And when life is hard, family is a soft place to land.” Her eyes had burned with grateful tears, but she kissed his cheek and ate her breakfast and let him fuss over her until they went their separate ways—he to the restaurant and her to the library.

Besides, she thought as she punched in Gold’s number, she didn’t have time for wallowing.

She needed to talk to Gold about the annual Storybrooke Winter Gala today. On impulse, Neal had bought four tickets and insisted he and Emma and Belle and Gold make a double date of the occasion. He’d even arranged for their next-door neighbor, Ana, to watch Henry.

Every December, the Mayor’s Office hosted the gala to benefit the city schools. This year, all proceeds would go toward school Arts programs—music, theatre, writing, and art workshops. Emma and Gold usually attended every year, Gold to cover the event for the Times and Emma to capture photographs to accompany the story. Belle had never been invited to the ball before, though, and she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Part of her didn’t want to be seen in public with so many shiny glossy people she couldn’t measure up to, but another side of her was excited to play princess for an evening.

She glanced again at the date and punched in Gold’s phone number. Today was Friday, November 16th. Thanksgiving was next week, which meant the gala was only three weeks away. There wasn’t much time to get ready. Finding a dress could be difficult and she would probably need to take it to a tailor, too. The thought of shopping for formalwear made her palms begin to sweat.

“Gold,” he answered on the first ring.

“What are you wearing?” she asked in a rush, followed by a breathless pause.

He answered with a laugh, the deep, rich sound making her spine tingle. She imagined him setting down the newspaper proof he was holding to turn in his chair to peer out the window toward the library. Since her office was in the back of the building he couldn’t actually see her, but she felt the admiring burn of his eyes all the same.

She heard a rustling sound as he set down the pages. When they talked or spent time together, he always gave her his full attention. It was certainly a refreshing change from Sean distractedly glancing at her during one of his marathon video game sessions and asking her to repeat what she’d said for the third time.

“A naughty call in the middle of the workday?” Gold drawled into the phone. “Sweetheart, men dream of these sorts of calls from their girlfriends. It’s not even my birthday.”

Belle blushed. She hadn’t stopped to think how awkward the question would sound out of context, but now that it was out, she teased him right back. “Mmmm nothing naughty to say today but just wait till it is your birthday,” she said. “Now that you mention it…”

“Yes?” He drew out the word, filling it with expectation and making her giggle.

She could almost see him leaning forward across the desk, a mischievous gleam in those caramel eyes.

“When is your birthday?”

“January 14th,” he answered promptly. “And tell Marco I prefer ice cream cake.”

“You prefer every cake,” she shot back, smiling into the phone. When it came to baked goods, Gold had an enormous sweet tooth. “But I think it can be arranged.”

“That’s excellent news. Just don’t tell Marco how many candles to put on it because the thing will be melted before we have a chance to slice it.”

Belle knew he was still self-conscious about the difference in their ages. She also knew exactly how to soothe him when he worried. “Then it’s a good thing I prefer mature men.”

“Indeed,” he said, sounding pleased.

She flipped her planner forward and marked his birthday on the calendar in bold, red ink, surrounding the date with fat, bright hearts. The birthday of the man she loved was an important day—far more worth remembering than the wedding date of her stuffy stepmother and emotionally unavailable father. At least she knew Marco wouldn’t snoop through her things and read her planner or her diary. But she was digressing again.

“Now, back to my question,” she ordered, feigning sternness.

“You have my full attention, General French.”

She laughed and rubbed the thick holiday gala invitation between her fingers. Its embossed gold lettering and sprigs of holly in metallic ink screamed expensive. Everyone knew the Storybrooke Winter Gala was the social event of the season. From the chilled seafood towers bursting with crab claws and lobster tails to the elegant champagne cocktails, no expense would be spared.

Belle fanned her warm cheeks with the cardstock, her clammy fingers leaving damp smudges at the top of the matte stationery. “The invite says formal attire, but you’re almost always formal. Were you thinking suit or tuxedo?”

“At the moment, I’m in my usual. I did opt for the socks with the turkeys today as a nod to next Thursday.”

Belle giggled and dragged her teeth over her lower lip. His Thanksgiving socks were adorable and he was being terribly sweet in his attempts to put her at ease. She wanted to go to the gala, but she didn’t want to look like a country bumpkin who had never been anywhere. Gold had attended fancy dinners and parties all over the world. He’d been to a State Dinner with the President, for goodness sake, while Belle had never ventured beyond the Portland city limits. “You know what I mean. It’s not like we can show up in sweatpants and be all ‘sorry, I’m not dressed for this.’” Oh, how she wished.

“Sweetheart, you can wear anything you like. You’re gorgeous no matter what you have on. That said, I’m not really the proper person to offer advice on evening gown selections. Why don’t you talk to Emma?”

She sighed. “Honey, I have talked to Emma. We’re both going shopping and we both need to know. It’s not like we can ask Neal for guidance.” Exasperated, she pushed a curl off her forehead, wondering why she had to explain this. “You know what he’s like. Emma said, ‘Neal would dust corn chips off his construction clothes, zip a hoodie sweatshirt over it, and head out the door.’ That’s a direct quote, by the way.”

Gold burst out laughing. “Sounds like my boy. I’ll make sure he’s dressed appropriately.”

“Anyway,” she continued, “there’s not much of a boutique circuit here in Storybrooke and I’m not exactly a candidate for Rent the Runway.” She sucked in the inside of her cheek as soon as those last words were out. Since they’d started dating, she’d been making a concerted effort not to say self-deprecating things about herself. At least not out loud.

Gold hadn’t seemed to notice her negativity, though.

“Which would you prefer I wear? Tux or suit?”

The image of whirling on the dance floor with Gold in a sleek black tuxedo was doing crazy things to her insides. “Tux,” she said in a breathless whisper. “Tux sounds good.”

“Tux it shall be then. And Belle?”

“Yes?” She was still picturing Gold in black tie and her stomach was doing gymnastics.

“Love, I meant what I said: you’re gorgeous no matter what you wear. We’re going to the gala so we can dance and eat shrimp cocktail and support the Arts, not so you’ll worry over competing with silly girls and stupid women who wouldn’t know true beauty if it ran over them with a sleigh.”

“I wish you and Emma and Neal were going to be the only ones there,” she murmured, feeling silly. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t known about the gala and been given every opportunity to decide against going. The event had been on the calendar for weeks, yet the closer it came the more she fretted about fitting in. An inexplicable craving for belonging tightened her chest.

Gold hummed into the phone. “This is about more than a dress, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath, letting the weight of his understanding settle over her like a comforting mantle. Her head lolled forward until her forehead rested upon the top of her desk. The smooth, cool grain of the wood felt good against her flushed skin and she forced out another lungful of air. Gold didn’t deserve to be at the wrong end of her short fuse. She tried to tell herself she belonged at the gala because he’d invited her, but the heart didn’t always believe the head—no matter how sensible the head was being.

“It matters to me that I at least look like I belong, even if it isn’t true,” she admitted.

Gold was quiet for a long moment. “It is true, sweetheart. For as long as I draw breath, you will always have a place to belong. If Marco, Emma, Neal, and Henry were here, I know each of them would say the same. I also know it’s going to take more than hearing the words to make you believe it. You have to know the truth deep down. I love you so much, and I only hope and pray that one day you’ll see yourself the way we see you.”

Belle pressed her lips together, muffling a sob. “Thank you for understanding,” she whispered tearfully. “I love you.”

“It’s nearly five. I’m coming over to the library.” Through the phone, she heard the distinctive click of his pocket watch as he snapped it closed. “When I get there, I’m going to kiss you till you’re breathless, then take you out for a nice, quiet dinner, just the two of us. How does that sound?”

Belle smiled and wiped her tears and her worries away with a tissue from the box on her desk. “It sounds perfect.”

“So we’re here.” Emma sucked down the dregs of her iced latte in a noisy slurp and wiped her hands on her black jeans. “Portland. Boutique Row. What do we do now?” She tossed the cup in the trash can inside the door.

Like aliens on a foreign planet, they hovered inside the doorway of Posh, the largest formal boutique in the city.

Belle eyed Emma suspiciously. “I thought you said you knew about shopping.”

“Yeah, for denim and dry fit. Where to get the best doughnuts. And the occasional piece of leather. Not evening gowns.”

“But you’ve been to this gala before?” she pressed.

“Yeah, as the photographer. No one pays attention to what you’re wearing when you’re behind the camera. I got away with black pants and a dress shirt three years running.”

Belle looked her friend up and down. Perspiration was dotting Emma’s temples. Her cheeks, ruddy from the winter air outside just moments ago, were ashen. She knew that deer-in-headlights look: Emma was on the verge of an anxiety attack.

Belle ran her teeth over her lower lip, discouragement slithering around her and squeezing the air from her lungs. “Are we in trouble?”

“It’s possible,” Emma acknowledged, then shook her head hard enough to cause her ponytail to sway. “No. No! We’re two grown women. We can handle one small town formal.”

“You make it sound like war,” Belle said wryly.

“It’s worse. Other women. Rich, polished, cold as ice.” She rolled her eyes at a chic blonde dripping in Chanel and carrying a Louis Vuitton handbag bigger than Belle’s suitcase. “Maybe we should invest in suits of armor.”

“Or maybe we should eat them for supper.”

Emma snorted, their laughter breaking the tension. It was rare for Emma to be intimidated, and Belle patted her shoulder. Misery loved company, and somehow knowing she wasn’t alone in her insecurity gave her hope for more than the hunt for an evening gown. “We can do this, as long as we do it together.”

Emma’s reached for Belle’s hand and squeezed. “Right. Together is better.”

”Exactly.”

Emma gave a long, slow whistle and they moved into the store like two people tied together in a three-legged race. “Where should we start?” Belle stared at the array of gowns and began to shuffle through the racks, heading in the direction of the plus sizes. She’d come here expecting to have maybe two choices in style but after a few minutes of browsing, to her surprise, there were many gowns in her size—short and long, tight and flowing, beaded and glittery. And though she hadn’t tried on a solitary dress, she was still convinced there wasn’t one in all of Portland designed to flatter her physique. In one fell swoop, she’d gone from zero choices to too many. So many dresses, so little time, and so much Belle.

Even the eggnog lattes and cream-stuffed doughnuts she and Emma had feasted on in the car on the way here left her feeling hollow. She was at her worst at formal events—the last one she’d been to was her high school senior prom and not one person had asked her to dance. She’d gone stag simply so she didn’t have to sit in the house with her father and Edith. With the exception of going to the refreshment table to sneak brownies, she had sat in the corner the entire time.

But she wasn’t in high school any longer. She had a handsome escort in Gold and friends to spend the evening with. The steeply priced gala tickets had already been purchased and paid for and supporting the Arts in their schools? She couldn’t think of a more excellent cause. Besides, backing out three weeks before the event was paramount to announcing you had no interest in seeing Hamilton. It simply wasn’t done.

She squinted in the direction of the lingerie. Spanx were what she needed—something to suck her in and smooth her out—injected with industrial-strength elastic.

“Black. Black is the slimming choice,” Belle decided aloud, pushing through the rack toward a plain A-line silk sheath gown.

At least if she stuck to basic black, she and Gold would match. Like two penguins. One sleek and sophisticated, the other round and plump, carrying a lot of blubber around to make it through the hard, cold, South Pole winter.

“No black! Black is the safe choice,” Emma countered, smacking Belle’s hand when she reached for the hanger on another simple, nondescript black gown with clean lines.

“And that’s bad why?”

“Because it’s drab and washes you out. Go for color. Like gold.”

“Suddenly you’re a Pantone expert?” Belle winced. “A gold dress? Isn’t that a touch…cliché?”

“Alright. We’ll keep looking.”

Belle nudged Emma in the direction of a tall, willow-thin woman with striking black and grey hair and the pointiest red stilettos she’d ever seen. “Maybe we should ask someone. I think she works here.”

Emma squinted and slid more dresses down the rack. “The one with the scarf on?”

“It’s a poncho.” She knew that much.

“Wait! Wait! Try this emerald one! Gold will go crazy when he sees you in this!” Emma whipped a dazzling, jewel-toned gown with a daring thigh-high slit off the rack. Belle stared at the stunning gown then glanced back at the saleswoman. “Five minutes ago you didn’t know anything about dresses.” “You’re right, I don’t. But I know my father-in-law and he’s going to love that dress. Well, he’d love you in a life-sized paper bag, but this dress will make even Mr. Smart Ass Newspaper Dude speechless. God, I can picture him drooling already!” She thrust the dress into Belle’s arms and gave her a playful shove. “Go try it on. And remember, the only person who has to know how beautiful you are…”

“Is me,” Belle finished. They’d had this conversation often during their walks over the past few months, and Emma had reminded her yet again on the two-hour drive here. She fingered the rich velvet skirt with trembling fingers. Now she had to walk the walk. “I’ll try it. What color are you looking for?” she asked, backing into the fitting room.

“Black.” “Emma!” she whined.

Emma yanked the fitting room curtain closed with a laugh. The dress was crushed velvet with full-length sleeves, hard to find, even in the middle of a brutal Maine winter. She slid into the gown, the silk-lined velvet feeling decadent against her skin. Even without the back completely zipped, she liked the look. Emma was right, she realized, turning this way and that in the three-way mirror.

The scoop neck hugged her shoulder blades, emphasizing her thinnest feature—her shoulders—and the color made her blue eyes sparkle and skin creamy even under the garish fluorescent fitting room lights. It was a few inches too long for her 5-foot, 1-inch frame, but the skirt length was easily remedied at a tailor. Not hating it, she took a deep breath, lifted the skirt so she wouldn’t trip, and opened the curtain. She hoped Emma was nearby because she didn’t want to make a spectacle of herself. Those stupid little fitting room closets were designed to thrust you back out onto the floor where commission-hungry salespeople could tell you how good you looked and convince you to buy.

“Em,” she called out, “could you zip—” She swallowed the rest of her words. Emma was face-to-face with a dark-haired woman, and looking even more nervous than she had when they walked into the boutique. “Emma? Emma Nolan?” The stranger wore a smart navy pantsuit and a light blue silk blouse, and her blood-red lips spread in a wide smile. Everything about her, from her perfectly coifed hair to her buffed, nude pumps, screamed suave and important.

“Yeah, who’s asking?” “It’s me, Regina Mills. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. We graduated together from Storybrooke High! I sat next to you in Mr. Walsh’s English class.” “Oh, hey.” Emma kicked the carpet with her boot, looking anything but thrilled to meet an old high school friend. “Good to see you. You remember Belle French, I’m sure. She graduated the year after us.” Regina frowned at Belle, making a small scar on her upper lip stand out. “Sorry, doesn’t ring a...bell.” “It’s fine. We didn’t really travel in the same social circles anyway,” Belle said. Regina pouted, as if trying to decide if Belle’s remark was a put-down.

Well, she could interpret the comment however she wished. Belle didn’t care for the change that had come over Emma since Regina had appeared or the barely-veiled insult that she wasn’t worth remembering. Now that she’d had a good look at her, she remembered Regina well enough. Then again, it was hard to forget the most popular girl to ever come out of Storybrooke High School. Student body president, prom queen, and girlfriend of Daniel Colter, captain of the football team. Belle would have called her a high school cliché, except that Regina had carried her smooth, flawless reputation into adulthood. She was still the most beautiful woman Belle had ever seen close-up. “I’m just in town for meetings today. I’m an attorney and planning to run for office next term.” Regina’s frozen smile was back in business. “I’m thinking start small with state Senate and work up from there. So, Emma, what have you been up to since graduation? I haven’t seen you since we walked across the stage.” “Um, well.” Emma shoved her hands in her pockets and looked toward the racks of dresses. “Emma is a gifted photographer,” Belle said, sliding to her friend’s side. If Emma wasn’t going to boast about her accomplishments, she sure as hell was going to do it for her. “How exciting!” Regina’s grin was wolfish, her dark eyes sparkling. “Are you exhibiting your portraits at any galleries?” “Uh…” Emma looked at the floor. “No time,” Belle put in. “Right, Em? You’re much too busy with your son, Henry and your husband, Neal.” “Oooh, a husband.” Regina’s eyes flashed again, reminding Belle of a shark circling its prey. “Is he a doctor?” “Nope.” “Hmmm.” She tapped a red nail against her jaw. “A lawyer then?” “He’s in construction,” Emma said, looking to Belle for help. “For your information, he runs his own construction company. He’s built most of Storybrooke’s new buildings in the last ten years.” Belle glared at Regina, daring her to make another cutting remark. “So he’s a working man,” she said, managing to make the term sound neither positive nor negative. “Yeah. Yeah. He’s great.” Emma’s laugh was feeble and she ducked her head. Regina clapped her hands. “This has been fun, catching up. We should do this again sometime.” She flashed another gorgeous, winning smile, and moved in the direction of the lingerie. “Best of luck on the campaign trail,” Belle called after her. Waiting until Regina was out of earshot, Belle whirled on Emma. “Excuse me, but what the hell was that?”

“Never mind. We have shopping to do.” Emma cleared her throat and tried to slide past her, but Belle held her ground.

“The shopping can wait. Who died and crowned Regina Mills queen?”

Belle had zero patience for people who clambered for social standing and pronounced themselves better than others. Having been so often on the receiving end of other people’s sarcasm, Belle rarely talked down to people. But standing up to bullies didn’t count. Something about watching Emma cower in front of Regina caused an angry fire to blaze in her belly. Maybe she was lousy at defending herself, but she’d be damned if she’d let anyone walk all over her friend. Emma shrugged and studied the dresses. She was pretending not to care about the awkward encounter, but Belle knew better. “I don’t like small talk. ‘Hi. How are you?’ she parroted. ‘Oh, I’m fine, how are you?’ News flash: nobody’s fine.”

“Em…”

“No matter how she makes it sound, Regina and I weren’t friends in high school, we were competitors.” She rolled her eyes. “She reminisces about Mr. Walsh’s English class like that was the only time we saw each other. I guess she forgot about the four years we spent one-upping each other on the cheerleading squad, softball team, and the debate team. Always trying to be smarter, stronger, and skinnier than the other. We were out for blood.”

“Then why are you letting her get under your skin?”

Emma sighed and pulled on her ponytail. “You know Cora Mills?”

“Cora Mills, the mayor? Of course.” Belle suppressed a shudder.

Regina’s mother, Cora, had been mayor of Storybrooke for as long as Belle could remember. Cora was a cold, calculating woman, but what she lacked in lovable qualities, she made up for in efficiency. She ran Storybrooke like a machine and no one could argue with her methods, not even Gold, who was paid to search out everything. From the few times Belle had met her, she realized Cora wasn’t mean so much as devoid of emotion. Beyond a perfunctory review of the library budget once a year, Belle was fortunate to rarely communicate with the Mayor’s Office and even when she did, it was strictly emails between Belle and Cora’s assistant. The library and its services were beneath Cora’s notice; so long as Belle didn’t ask for too much money, she stayed under her radar—which was exactly the way she liked it.

Emma wandered to a bench next to the row of fitting rooms and plopped down. “My mom always wanted to be like her, you know.”

“Really?” Belle would never have expected sweet, kind Mary Margaret Nolan to want to emulate Cora Mills.

Emma smirked. “Once, a long time ago, Mom even tried bidding against her for Mayor but she was too nice. She was laughed out of the first debate, and it’s a good thing because the town would have walked all over her. Since Mom couldn’t be like Cora, she decided the next best thing would be for me to be like Cora’s daughter, Regina. I spent every day of high school trying to beat Regina for one reason: because my mom couldn’t beat hers.”

“Wow,” Belle said. “I would never have known. Your mom is such a great teacher and your parents are like a fairytale marriage. Talk about relationship goals.”

“Exactly. The thing with my mom is she’s incredible just as she is,” she said. “Former prom queen, straight-A student, a born teacher. She’s smart and pretty and married to the perfect, charming husband. And she loves Storybrooke—but not for me.”

“But your parents live in Storybrooke.” Confused, Belle furrowed her brow. “That seems like a bit of a double-standard.”

“Yeah.” Emma shook her head. “’Why do you want to take pictures of engaged couples and local pet adoptions?’ she said, mimicking her mother’s innocent tone. “She would rather I was out on the front lines of some war documenting the dying.” “Like Gold used to?” Belle nodded in sympathy and claimed the empty side of the bench. She knew all too well the feeling of being expected to be someone you couldn’t be and dashing parental hopes in the process. “She feels like you shouldn’t be satisfied with a simple life.” “Bingo! And she resents the hell out of Gold for telling me what it’s really like out there. I think that’s why I’m closer to him now than I am my own parents. He understands weakness and failure in a way I don’t think they can. I’m not some conceited little bitch who’s hiding in the bathroom to throw up everything she eats to fit in anymore, but sometimes that really sucks, you know?”

“Yeah, I do.” Belle’s heart clenched in sympathy. Sometimes she still got sucked into the vortex of her own self-pity and forgot that everyone—even gorgeous, wonderful Emma—was fighting a battle. Trying to be yourself was hard work. It was so much easier to toe the line of people’s expectations, to do and say what made others feel comfortable and safe. “So there’s Regina, first conquering the state of Maine, then the world.” Emma put her head in her hands. “And here I am...not running for a spot even on the PTO. Married with a kid and pregnant again.” “You’re pregnant?” Belle slung an arm around Emma and dragged her against her side in an awkward hug. “Oh, sweetie, that’s amazing!” “Ya think? Emma sniffled but looked hopeful for the first time since they had entered the boutique. “Really? I wasn’t expecting another baby. It just happened.”

“Henry is going to be a big brother!” Belle squealed, excited enough for both of them. “Does your mom know yet?”

“Are you kidding?” “What did Neal say?”

Emma shook her head and touched her belly. “You’re the first soul I’ve told.”

“Me?” Belle crowded closer to Emma and drew her head down on her shoulder. She smoothed Emma’s hair back from her temples, soothing her the way her mother used to when she was little while she tried to process the news. To think she was the first to know about the new addition coming to the Cassidy household. She hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever been first in someone else’s confidence. At least not...well there’s Gold, of course.” She felt Emma nod against her shoulder. “I know what you mean. I’ve had friends. Acquaintances. Then when I met Neal he satisfied any need I had for friends. He’s a great husband and I love him to pieces, but it’s not like this. Like us. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Belle.”

“Me too,” she said, tears scalding her eyes. She’d known it was true—had felt the stirrings of their bond deep in her spirit ever since their first real conversation at Henry’s birthday clambake. Between family dinners, walks, and girls nights out, the invisible force between them only grown stronger. Somehow acknowledging their friendship out loud made it seem more solid. Precious. As important to her as her love for Gold, but in a different way.

“Now stand up,” Emma said, fishing into her pocket for a crumpled tissue. “I wanna see this dress!”

Belle shot to her feet and smoothed the skirt, her fingers fluttering around the waist and hips while Emma zipped up the back.

“I love it,” she said, motioning for Belle to twirl around.

“Really? You don’t think it makes me look like a medieval strumpet?”

“Hell no!” Emma whistled as Belle turned around again. “You’re stunning. All we need now are Spanx and shoes. And maybe some lingerie for the after-party?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Maybe.” Belle’s face flamed at the thought of wearing a negligee for Gold. “What about you?”

“We’ll get to me after lunch.” She patted her still-flat tummy. “There’s a place down the street serving yummy cheese-covered waffle fries and this kid wants some now.”

Belle’s stomach growled in answer. “Lead the way.”

Their waiter was clearing the lunch plates at the café when Belle heard a knock on the window. She did a double-take as her father waved through the glass with a sheepish smile. Her turkey club sandwich, which had tasted so delicious a few minutes ago, now lodged in her stomach. What was he doing here in the city?

“I’ll grab the check, Belle. You go talk to him,” Emma urged. “If I see things are getting bad I’ll come outside and rescue you.”

Nodding, she gathered her coat and made her way outside, wondering what would bring her father looking for her in Portland of all places, when she hadn’t seen him once on the streets of Storybrooke in the three weeks since she’d moved out.

The air was frigid even in the sunshine, and she seemed to grow colder with every step she took toward her father.

“Daddy?” She wrapped her arms around herself to keep from reaching for a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s the Portland flower show.” He brushed a bit of pollen off the sleeve of his coat. “I was in the neighborhood and saw you having lunch in the window.” “Ah.” Her dad attended the vendor-focused flower exhibition every year. She should have prepared for the possibility of running into him in town, but she’d completely forgotten it was this weekend.

“We haven’t heard from you in weeks, darling. Edith was devastated when you collected your things and left us.”

Belle gave a noncommittal grunt and thrust her cold hands in her pockets. Edith was devastated? Perish the thought her own father actually missed her.

“Marco treating you well?” he asked gruffly.

“Like family,” she retorted, her voice carrying a sharpness she hadn’t intended.

Her father’s face paled and she instantly regretted her tone. There was no call to be so mean-spirited, especially when it somehow succeeded in making her feel worse instead of better.

He sniffed. “Will we see you for Thanksgiving?“

Belle looked into the clear blue sky, distancing herself from his hopeful gaze. "Marco’s cooking a huge feast, so I’ll be eating with him and Gold and the Cassidys.“

“Christmas?“

She blew out an exasperated breath and hugged herself again. “Let’s push through one nightmare holiday at a time, okay?“

He huffed. “I didn’t realize things had gotten so bad.”

“Are we still talking about holidays, or are you referring to other bad situations?” She thought back to the horrible family dinner she’d put Gold through when she’d tossed a roll at Edith’s head and stormed out. “I can’t live like that anymore. I won’t.”

“You’ve changed, Belle. Is this…is this Gold’s influence on you, then?” He seemed to deflate before her eyes, this giant of a man shriveling down to a pathetic shell. “When did you become this way? So stubborn. So willful.” His lips shook as he spoke. “If your mother were alive, she…”

“But she’s not, Daddy,” Belle interrupted. “Mother hasn’t been with us for years. She’s not here to tell you what to do and what to say, and for that matter neither is Edith. You’re the one who changed. It’s as Erskine said, you don’t even see me. Maybe you never did.”

“Belle!” Emma jogged over to the rescue, her breath a white cloud in the cold afternoon air. “Hey, Mister French. We really gotta get going if we’re going to finish shopping and I promised Henry I’d be home in time to tuck him in.”

“Great. I’m freezing anyway.” She looped her arm through Emma’s and mustered a sad, parting smile for her father. After years of trying to gain his attention and approval, she wasn’t sure when she would see him again and at the moment, she didn’t care. “Take care of yourself, Dad.”

###

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #a monthly rumbelling #chubby belle #chubby!belle #mr. gold x belle french #swanfire #regina mills #marco #moe french #mqc writes

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fgodestinyawakenings · 6 years ago

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EOR SE.RA.PH Singularity: Act 3

Haish... The livestream feels more or less expected, since some part of the fanbase got the character they wanted for Servant. Reines definitely feels unexpected... At least Waver is still forever suffering with her now as a Servant

And... Now in the mid point of this Singularity’s story! I’m... Just.... DW JUST GIVE US A FAKER CLASS OR SOMETHING THAT BEATS 2.0X DAMAGE TO ALTER EGO ALREADY!!!

Act 3 (1/3

... Seems like spend a good time designing this whole place for their territory. Good reminder from Tama Cat we left Gawain behind with Passionlip, guys! I hope he’s really fine against that Alter Ego... And he’s definitely still alive, Emiya Alter! So, don’t even write off that he’s dead!!

And... You again?! Meeting Suzuka Gozen, now she’s really after our heads for intruding her place!! Hey, we don’t have nor want your fucking number here! Because knowing you, your welcome party is the last thing we really need!! And no thanks, not into waifu for blind-ass dumb devotion, Melt. And also, I don’t need your Tsundere bullshit jealousy just because this is harem route again

Also... Suzuka, meet Tama Cat whose actually one of Tamamo no Mae’s nine tails. Yup, this is not even the real one since it got swapped out. Yeah and unlike the original, Tama Cat has a pure-heart. Must be nice to continue acting like an irritating high school brat huh...

.... Never mind, this is actually a delicate issue! Now, we’re really dead this time round! Or for the first round fight!

Plot wise, for an excited high school with Chunnibyou probably, that’s some fucking defense you have! And... While Suzuka got her own reason to get recruited, she got a call? Guess BB orders her to retreat this time round. Ask the stupid AI who decided to start letting us roam around at ease instead of just killing us

Giving us the next direction to go aka Nape, Suzuka left but giving cryptic hints it was all the staff’s fault in Seraphix that caused this Singularity in the first place...? More unanswered question as we’re right in the middle of this story singularity...

Emiya Alter confirmed while the front is more or less general Oil Rig facility.... The back is more than what it seems? And as much as it’s tempting to save Gawain, let’s use this chance to get to the Command Room first.

Act 3 (2/3)

At the nape here, Melt revealed this was meant to be a gate granted to special employees. Both Emiya Alter and Gudas immediately guessing that the special employees are the Mages themselves, ones connected to Chaldea Organization.... Or rather, the Animusphere family themselves.

And... Cat.... COULDN’T YOU JUST TELL US NOW THAT WE’RE GETTING SCREWED 5 SECURITY INSECT AND 1 SOUL EATER IN THE FIRST PLACE BEFORE THIS?!

So much for the whole security system to be digitized... But before we could move on.... Robin?! Wait, you’re not fighting us? Can’t possibly beat Lip... Gawain?! Safe to say, Passionlip is waitng for us back at the front, assuming she’s roaming around there.

So aside as usual offering her way to remove the restraint and to take the money.... We’re still going forward to remove her restraint to talk to her! Robin say the tickling hand is useful, so a way to unlock her restraint? Thanks for being our escort back to the front, Robin.

Act 3 (3/3)

Heading back to fight against Passionlip, Robin assures we’ll be rewarded well for rescuing Passionlip. With one rub, we’re heading off as Emiya Alter remains behind with BB showing up

Emiya Alter disagrees completely how they are nothing alike with BB. He shares about himself a bit on the past, and knowing BB have something he wants, vice versa. BB expectedly wants him to kill everyone and capture Gudas for her dirty work, knowing it’ll help his job as a counter force.

Meanwhile... We got ambushed all of a sudden, and I’m not surprised if it’s actually BB just to see us suffer, Melt! In any case, let’s just clear 6 eaters and 3 knights class Servants!

Mobs gone, time to save Passionlip! Now before we jump into the unnecessary R18 session, what the AI meant was entering her mind aka the unnecessary bullshit fanservice groping

And... Gawain! He’s fine but bloodied! And with his help after declaring to aid saving her.... We entered into Passionlip’s mind!.

33 turns later... DW, just give us a fucking class to beat Alter Ego already!! Back to the reality, the restraints on Lip finally break! Gawain, good job, take that well-needed rest now! Or... At least do your prince charming job to bring Lip back to the Chapel to rest

Tama Cat went ahead instead to bring Lip back to the Chapel, and Robin left while we’re busy... He did finish his job, so I think he feels that he’s not needed for now.

Now heading to the Command Room...... What.... Why...... WHAT AND WHY IN THE FUCKING HELL THERE’S A DEMON PILLAR HERE?!?!?! ARE YOU ONE OF GOETIA’S RUNAWAY PILLARS?!

God to admit... Despite it fucking tough for gameplay, it’s oddly different in story wise for an actual demon pillar. Don’t know what that was, but we meet another Seraphix staff who thanked us for coming to save them.

Arnold, secretary to the previous dead director of Seraphix... We explained to him the situation a while later. Someone has an instant flipped switch from grateful to an ungrateful bastard. Thank you Gawain, for that nice indirect threatening words against this asshole.

A miracle for him to survive on his own so far... As expected of Arnold getting shock, no Melt, you’re a bratty little Tsundere who enjoys poking buttons at every Servant, treating Gudas like your own toy. Caring for Melt, but keep acting like an insecure little kid because of who you are. So no, you and BB are nowhere a lifesaver and goddess.

Unfortunately... It really is Mable and Arnold the only survivor left in this organization. Gawain then suggested to immediately start searching the records of where the Planetarium is to fix this Singularity. Well Arnold, if you must know, the last director aka Olga Marie, got killed by Lev, so no one but Da Vinci is the temporary director of Chaldea.

Aside Melt being suspicious, all the datas were even gone too. Noticing a familiar code from the chapel, Arnold explained about one of the church members who got killed by the staff, left the code behind. And the Demon God Pillar appeared out of nowhere from their point of view and killed them all one day... Before leaving, Melt is upset of Arnold having to join us back to the church.

Returning back... Yep, Arnold definitely care about himself since he didn’t expected Mable to be alive. Tristan welcomes us back with him frowning at unable to see Gawain’s heroic acts........ Yeah, everyone in Knights of the Round Table are fucking huge ass perverts

Emiya Alter returns back with Melt mocking at his earlier disappearance earlier. And Tama Cat, she finally brings out Lip who is now finally awake and well at last! Gawain, we meant her restraint BB put on her. Can you please not fucking shove words into our mouth unnecessarily?!

Lip is definitely nice and polite compared to the other two of the Sakura faces. We’re not going to bail on her, her claws are huge but her personality is the thing that’s important! And Tama Cat’s right, come to Chaldea and you’ll see more scarier than yourself. Lip then offered herself to fight, something which Gudas agreed and accepted wholeheartedly.

Reminding Gawain you said you fight to end her tears aka her huge ass boobs, he then accepts Lip’s gratitude to him. Tristan despite still not trusting Alter Egos, he accepted Melt’s combat capability. But... He has his mistrust against Emiya Alter.

While Mable makes her internal monologue how Arnold lie they are enemies to kill when they can talk things out... Yeah, typical Arnold decided to push all the responsibility onto us so he’s not at fault if anything happens! Mable then left with Arnold to show him to his room to rest...

Gawain then brought up the passcode they found before resting. We opened up to read the journal... By the record keeper again... No wait... Demon God Pillar Zepar?! Wait... Unless like Mozart, the record keeper is the Demon God pillar host!!

But they revealed that Seraphix was originally created to run an experiment. Oil Rig on the outside, magecraft workshop on the inside. It then began a record of the humans they brought... Like with Mash’s case... it turns out they are also experimenting on another case beside her by the Animusphere family.

Continued on with Seraphix being able to restored despite its digitized state... Around that time, Zepar had spoke to record keeper when they locked themselves up. So it’s definitely was one of the runaway pillars in Solomon Singularity and arrived at Seraphix...

So it took copy of the host personality to learn more about Seraphix.... And hence, the record keeper became the unwilling/willing traitor to turn this whole organization into a Singularity. And once it was digitized completely, there’s something about connection?

The purpose of rayshifting was to prepare Zepar to be reborn while hiding away from Chaldea’s eyes... Some point, Zepar left and made partnership with BB....

Yeah, this is why you’re not a goddess but tsundere ass bitch, Melt. It turns out this was a Demon God Pillar incident after all, therefore making it part of Epic of Remant! Restriction excuses aside, you got your own reason like to see us being screw around obviously

So the whole Holy Grail War and summoning of Servants.... For a fuel, why is everyone killing each other instead of keeping them alive? Time to defeat the remaining Sentinels and BB before getting towards Zepar

During six hours later of rest, Lip pointed out Melt’s consideration beneath her harsh words. While Melt still dislike humans, at least she knows not all are the same. Lip then teases Melt on meeting Gudas that changed her perspective.

WELL MELT, if you just ACTUALLY asked them instead of being a freaking Tsundere to beat around the god damn bush, they will hold your hand. But no, your sadist side backfired at you so too bad. Then Melt shared to her what happened to her hands... A bittersweet memory Passionlip summarized of what she sees. Once settled, Melt then asked for aid to take down the monster...

Meanwhile, Gawain.... HE GOT KILLED WHAT THE HELL?! And next morning... GAWAIN REALLY DID DIED LAST NIGHT!!! Woah hold on, before we jumped to the conclusion, we don’t know what even happened here, Tristan! So, neither Melt or Lip did it okay?!

We’re not disposing them as the Master of Chaldeas, Arnold! Tristan then decided Emiya Alter to accompany us this time on the next mission.

Remaining 2 Acts... With all the pain in the ass boss fight.... Yup, going to continue this later. In mean time, time to work on a little for JP’s side to see how far I can go with guide + running blind if they haven’t go far yet

#fgo #fate grand order #the shit I shit myself into #SERAPH singularity #SERAPH NA #plus off topic i know where my luck went now before today's roll #a pity but at least i can work my ass to grind this easier #now here's hoping for a second banner in this event

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elliemarchetti · 6 years ago

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A Wonderful Mistake (part 3)

Marecal Modern!AU with a slight mention of Mareven in which Maven’s not a psycho

@lilyharvord not as lighthearted as the previous parts, I know, but I hope you like it anyway!

@nightmarebarrow I know you probably didn’t read the second part yet but I wanted to tag you anyway, since one of your question’s answered here

Part 1

Part 2

Other Red Queen fics:

A Rebel’s Son (part 2)

Red Queen Soulmate AU (Mare’s POV) Part 2 (Diana and Shade’s POV) Part 3 (Diana’s POV)

Words: 1549

She had been so indecisive about what to do for the whole afternoon that Mare was still drying her hair at seven. She urgently needed a session at the hairdresser but she barely managed to cover the cost of living alone, let alone a luxury of that kind. Also, there was Ann who could cut her split ends, but that wouldn’t be the day. In fact, the one with Tiberias was absolutely not an appointment and there was no reason to be beautiful: demonstrating this, she decided to wear her favorite sweatshirt and a pair of old and crumpled jeans. If he really had to prove that he was not a spoiled rich man he would have to take her to a place where that was the right clothes choice.

When she was ready, she stepped out of the bathroom and glanced sideways at the clock. He was late.

"He’ll arrive." said simply Ann, who was already wearing her pajamas watching the Griffins perched on their uncomfortable couch.

"It would be better if he didn’t." Mare replied, throwing herself next to her.

"Don’t lie to me, you already look disappointed." the other answered, before dropping a handful of popcorn into her mouth without taking her eyes off the screen.

Five minutes later, when she had already surrendered to the evidence and began to relax, someone rang at the door. Mare jumped up like a spring, disappointing herself and snatching a cunning smile from Ann; she would’ve never admitted that her friend was right, but that was it. She didn’t know why, but she desperately wanted to believe that Cal was a good person, that he was different from the boy they all thought he was, that there was something else behind the façade, and at the same time a tiny part of her, the one who thought of Maven, the one who was supposed to visit him, wanted him to disappoint her, to remind her why she had chosen his half-brother and all the problems that it involved instead of simply falling into his arms. Not that he had ever tried to hook up with her before, but she doubted that if she went looking for him he would refuse her.

When she opened the door, however, there was no Cal to wait for her but a child of about eight years, not so tall, with white skin accentuated by long black hair.

"Are you Miss Barrow?" he asked, in a serious voice that didn’t seem to belong to a child. Mare nodded, perplexed, until she realized that a white van awaited them on the road. She immediately recognized the writing on its side, because she had seen it countless times since the accident that had taken away the use of her father’s legs: Jacos Foundation. The founder, Coriane Jacos, was Cal’s mother, a woman, according to her parents, born in the wrong family; unlike her brother, in fact, she didn’t like the academic life but preferred manual work, as she had amply demonstrated when she started working for a misery in the Cole’s workshop against her father’s will, and wasn’t even vain as her great-aunt, or attached to material goods like her uncle. She had drawn young Mr. Calore’s attention to the graduation of her friend, the current heart surgeon who supported the Foundation and had also operated Mare’s father, Sara Skonos, and from that moment they had become inseparable. Together, they had faced everything: the divorce of his parents, the death of her father, the coming out of his father, her first abortion and finally the fulminating end that Tiberias Senior met because of AIDS. Every scandal and sorrow was faced with strength and integrity by what was defined as the most beautiful couple in the city, until Coriane became ill. At the death of her father-in-law's partner, whom she was very attached to, she found herself alone, with her brother busy with his studies in another city, her dearest friend distant because of her exhausting work, her aunt on her deathbed and her husband too busy with family affairs to pay attention to her. Perhaps it was depression that caused her two successive abortions, perhaps, as some liked to whisper, her husband's lover who was trying to poison her, however, when Cal was finally born, for a short time, she seemed to have come back to herself . In order to keep herself busy, as she left work in the workshop on the second abortion, she had created a foundation in her name, using all the money received by her family, which used as a base the old estate she grew up in just outside town. It didn’t have a specific purpose, other than to help those who needed it most: the loner, the marginalized, those who were in non-positive economic conditions, the mentally ill and those who had lost their will to live. For two years Coriane Jacos had been the perfect woman for public opinion, the apotheosis of the American dream. Still, something in her mind didn’t work as it should, for one day they found her lifeless body in the bathtub. Mare's mother had told her that the newspapers had talked about it for weeks, until the news was slowly forgotten, replaced by the imminent marriage of the new widower with what had long been his perfidious lover. For the poor, however, Coriane’ story had remained important even years after her death, as was her family’s name, since it was her brother who took the reins, while still continuing his work as a teacher at the university, helped by his wife and her innumerable acquaintance in the medical field of her foundation. And now Cal was leaning out of that damn bus to greet her with his hand, as if the thing didn’t touched her at all, as if a day of volunteering were enough to make him good as his mother. Undecided about what to do, she replied to the greeting without too much enthusiasm, and went back into the house, telling the child to get back on the bus, where she would reach him once she got her jacket and bag.

"Don’t you think I would’ve known if Tiberias Calore had volunteered?" Mare asked to Ann, a bit of annoyance peeping in her tone.

"I think if you were interested in the city's gossip a little more, you would’ve known it." Ann replied, throwing her a sideways glance.

"You knew it?!" Mare asked, amazed. Did she really lived so detached from the rest of the world?

"Even Diana knows that, and she doesn’t even live here!" the other answered, finally deciding to turn around to look at her. Diana Farley was Tristan's best friend, a subject quite prickly, at the beginning of their relationship, but that over time had become a safe haven for both of them when they needed to detach. She lived in another city, about an hour away, and she and Tristan had met at school, before he decided to retire and return to live with his parents. Sometimes she came in town to visit them, but Mare had never had the chance to hang out with her, unlike Shade and Kilorn. Working in the evening certainly had its advantages, but unfortunately it also led you to accept a life of compromise, including abandoning your social life.

"So you're telling me I should go and act like I've always known?" Mare asked, grabbing her jacket with irritation. She didn’t know what had bothered her, but something had, turning her into the grumpy self that her siblings hated.

"I'm saying you should go and behave normally, enjoy the evening and remember ..."

"... it's not a date." they concluded in chorus.

The bell rang again, urging her to move.

"Keep me updated!" exclaimed Ann, who had already returned to look at the brightly colored screen.

"I will do my best!" the other exclaimed, just before closing the door behind her. Waiting for her now, there was Cal himself, wearing a sweatshirt and a heavy jacket too.

"So where are we going?" Mare asked, trying to start with the best good intentions for the evening.

"At McDonald's," Cal replied, leaving her deeply perplexed. He probably noticed it, because before opening the side door, he explained that once a week they took the residents of the clinic to eat out, a way to reintegrate them in society and not make them feel different from the rest of the world.

"And why there?" she asked, before getting in.

"Because this time it was up to Luther to decide." Cal replied, throwing a knowing look at the child who had gone to ring at her the door. The child replied with a wide smile of satisfaction, while who she supposed was his father seemed even sadder; that young life would be broken before reaching adolescence, yet Cal had the expression of who would do anything to make him happy. While she was fastening her belt, Mare felt a grip on her chest, right at the heart.

"Are y’all ready?" Cal asked, having reached the driver's seat, with a fake southern accent. The occupants of the bus answered positively in a choked choir of voices of every age and gender, and Mare couldn’t help but join them.

#a wonderful mistake #marecal #mareven #mare barrow #cal calore #ann walsh #coriane jacos #tibe calore #tiberias V calore #sara skonos #diana farley #tristan boreeve #shade barrow #kilorn warren #luther carver #red queen #modern au

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mattlassen · 6 years ago

Text

My Ascent into MADness

I’ve seen a lot of eulogies to MAD from contributors and fans alike the past week since the news broke that they wouldn’t be printing new material going forward. Yes, it is a loss for me as a MAD contributor but to be honest, I have been processing this loss and the end of MAD for a little while now. As Tom Richmond said so dead on, this was not something we didn’t see coming.

I wrote some tweets as a tribute to MAD the day after the announcement went public but I feel I owe it more. (I really am a millennial - I thought a tweet or two was enough!) MAD was a big part of my life. It changed my life. It deserves more than Twitter. We all do!

I was a writer and artist (occasionally) for MAD since I interned at the age of 19 but not many people know how I encountered MAD for the first time. I was born with a pencil in my hand as my mom says which makes me question what she was eating and drinking during pregnancy. I was always drawing and dreamed of being a comic strip artist after my dream of being a basketball star went by the waist side when everyone got taller and left me well by their waist side! During high school, my family took a trip to California and being big fans of Peanuts (my mom and I), we visited the Charles Schulz Museum in Santa Rosa. It was an amazing experience. We went around the whole museum while my dad and brother tailed off to let my mom and I experience it more in-depth at our leisure. When I met up with my dad later, he said “I was sitting in on this artist talk and the guy is pretty good. Maybe you’d be interested.” We went in and Tom Richmond was doing a talk about caricatures. They were amazing. Funny, exaggerated and completely dead on. You knew who it was right away! The perfect caricature.

As the talk ended, Tom showed the opening spread artwork he just finished for MAD Magazine for the movie, Spiderman 2. Wow. Caricatures, amazing line, color and backgrounds together. Oh and stupidity! Spiderman’s pants were coming down so his underwear was showing, Doc Ock had big bandages on his tentacles and there was a paper that said “Man bites Dog, Dog sues.” The best was a spider web coming from the middle of Spiderman’s legs which I remember Tom saying, “Yeah, I’m surprised I got away with that one.” I left amazed but also thinking I can’t draw like that. Uh-oh.

The museum announced that they would be doing a caricature workshop with Tom in about five minutes upstairs for free. We all went with a little encouragement from my parents. Tom started by asking for a volunteer that he could do a caricature demonstration of. My parents were very insistent that I do it, but being a teenager at the time (who looked quite younger than his actual age, short and scrawny!), I didn’t want to. I was picked and had to go up in front of everyone for an artist to pick apart my face and draw me. Yay! I was a good sport and a very jokey guy so I can take a joke just like I dished them out. He drew me on chart paper with big muscles and a mom tattoo because hell, my mom was the whole reason he was drawing me! I left the workshop with a caricature in my hand and MAD Magazine in my head. I need to get the magazine that had this Spiderman art in it. Many years later after hanging and talking to Tom on multiple MAD occasions as contributors, I told him this story at a party after a beer or two. He was a bit surprised to say the least.

We went to a mall shortly afterwards and I was searching for the MAD art in the newsstands but it wasn’t out yet. I settled for the latest issue and was amazed by the diverse amazing artwork in the magazine. Since I met Richmond, I was fascinated with his work and it really stood out but there were other guys that were cool too like Mort Drucker, Hermann Mejia, Tom Bunk and John Caldwell (my all-time favorite since he was much goofier looking and simplified with his artwork just like I liked to draw!) Plus, he had this squiggle in his line which was intriguing. How? Why?

I became obsessed with MAD for the art. I didn’t read it as much as I should have early on but I was just obsessed with the artwork as a budding cartoonist. The words were secondary to me. It was an art magazine. I drew everything in high school with chicken fat - gags on top of gags. My MAD subscription and obsession continued when I entered college. I went on the MAD website and saw they had internships in the New York offices for art and editorial. I was in no way a graphic design person. I hated it. Type and layout was boring. I wanted to be a cartoonist! I applied for both art and editorial. I wrote and mocked up my own outtakes from different TV shows such as The Office, Muppets etc. which was a recurring feature in the magazine at the time. It was something fun to do on a rainy Saturday night. I submitted and thought nothing of it. I wasn’t going to get it. Another summer doing art and taking summer classes. Yay.

I checked my email on a slow Monday morning and to my astonishment, there was an email from Amy V. at MAD offering me an editorial internship. I was stunned. I told my family and they were ecstatic for me and soon I was starting my first day as a MAD intern. It was insane. The only magazine, I liked and I was going to work there. I got there and we had a morning staff meeting first thing. The whole staff (which wasn’t big at all!) and the four interns (two editorial and two art). I was nervous but was eased when the staff was grilling us about the magazine and I was the only one answering everything. I remember art leaving after giving their report on the status of their pieces and what they needed etc. John Ficarra, the editor (and best Benjamin Franklin impersonator I’ve ever met) took a piece of paper and wrote down what Michael and I would be doing. I got a big speech from my family about interns and how I shouldn’t expect much, I’m going to get coffee and do meaningless jobs that others didn’t want to do etc. John said “Okay, you’ll be writing fundalini pieces in house such as “The Godfrey Report”, “Celebrity Cause of Death Betting Odds” - give us a list of celebs to approve before you start and Fundalini asks “What If…?” etc.” He also said, we will have brainstorming writing sessions where you will work with us etc. I don’t think I blinked for the two minutes he was talking. Then he said, Dave will show you your office and get you guys set up. We had an office. We had our own desks. We had our own computers, phones. What?! Where was the coffee I needed to get them?

We went right to writing, Michael and I. We came up with a bunch of celebrities etc. and got to know each other. I was always an art person and a little funny in classrooms and parties but never would I think of myself as a writer. We got a bunch of issues from the storage closet and focused in on the material we had to write specifically. I was seeing the magazine in a completely different light. It was incredibly smart and funny. Why wasn’t I reading this cover to cover all the time? We started writing together and putting out stupid jokes to try to make each other laugh. Sometimes successfully and most of the time, not. The soul crushing silence became the most dreaded thing in my life. The joke didn’t land and you just embarrassed yourself. That writing session was broken up by a call to come to the editor’s office because Al Jaffee was there dropping off the new Fold In. What?! This day is getting more surreal. That was cool is an understatement. Eventually, throughout the days at MAD, Michael and I wrote by ourselves and didn’t really collaborate on any pieces mostly because we had different comedy sensibilities and it was easier to write by ourselves. I started writing all day long and printing out my pieces to read and revise on my commute home.

I got to sit in on fold in meetings, department writing sessions, general pitch meetings from writer submissions and what direction they wanted to go with content. I quickly figured out that I wasn’t as quick and funny as everyone else thought I was. These guys have been doing it for decades. Damn were they good! My first department writing meeting, they had an article about Fast Food and they needed a fake department name. I didn’t even get to process what the article was and the editor says “When Grease Meets West?” to which he is interrupted by Charlie singing “All We Are Sayyyyinnnnggg…Is Give Grease a Chance.” I was dumbfounded, out of my element and intimidated. I need to get better and quick.

As the six-week internship went on, I wrote so many pitches and submissions. I wrote three or four pages of Godfrey Reports (maybe nine got in), multiple Celebrity Cause of Death Betting Odds (three or so that got printed), so so many what ifs, that were off the mark. I loved it there! The people were funny, they were welcoming and better yet, they were kind and nurturing. They told you what worked and didn’t work. They didn’t care who had the best idea or the funniest line in the room, they liked that it was the best and funniest! It was comedy boot camp and you wanted to work there forever.

We helped write fundalini pieces, department titles, articles in house, even an article introduction and so much more. I was like a staff member. I would get there early and leave later than I needed to. I met legends and heroes of mine when they would visit the office including Al Jaffee, John Caldwell, Teresa Burns Parkhurst, ironically, Tom Richmond and Hermann Mejiia among others. We got to go through original art for auction (where I found three Don Martins which they had to pry from my hands before I drooled on them), got to admire and examine Mort Drucker original pages that he just fed ex’ed in for a new parody with the staff, see the construction of a cover putting Obama and Alfred together (like 20 or 30 different versions) and the same for the Knockout Obama, Hillary piece both by Mark Frederickson. I felt like a staff member and left being assigned an editor to submit to and now you are a contributing writer, if you want to be. Submit anything you want. Now I’m a writer. They didn’t know who I was six weeks before. I’m just a college kid. I’m a contributor now? That was the best thing about MAD, they didn’t care what else you did for other people, they wondered what could you do for us. Don’t show me work you did for other people, show me a piece you wrote specifically for us. They looked at potential and built up talent to a new level.

I wrote and wrote and there was a lot of near sales but a lot of not quites. I sold to MAD Kids before Christmas. That was a cool Christmas gift. In January, the magazine lays off three staff members and goes quarterly. There’s a famous Stephan Pastis line that I always remember and works best here “I finally get to play for the Lakers and the stadium is collapsing underneath us.” I came back the next summer and interned in the art department. Now, I’m getting to know people I knew but didn’t work with closely at all. Same old MAD but completely different. Instead of being with the editorial guys, I was with the art guys, Ryan, Sam and Doug. All smart, funny and amazing guys themselves. I came right into a deadline for the magazine and was put to Photoshopping different things. I was then tasked with restoring fold ins for a upcoming fold in collection. The previous intern did about ten or so which meant we were a long way away from completion. Over the next six weeks, I restored over 450 or so fold ins for the book, got to have lunch with and meet more artists and writers including Harry North, Jason Chatfield, Shannon Wheeler etc. and go through more original artwork to send back to the artists. Any cartoonists dream. I think Adam Cooke and Michael Slaubaugh visited that summer too! During this time, I wrote a piece on the weekend and submitted it to Dave Croatto, my editor, to which they eventually bought! Now I was actually a contributor to MAD! Not in house pieces but as a writer.

After leaving MAD as an art intern, I looked for other places to intern/write for/work for. I knew MAD wasn’t going to pay the bills! I interviewed at The Onion where they told me I would hate working there after working at MAD because they didn’t care if it was the funniest idea or line in the room, if an intern said it they would ignore it. Nothing was like MAD and would be like it. I became very loyal to MAD. I only wrote for them. I didn’t consider myself a comedian, I was just a writer for MAD and MAD only. I temped after college in the editorial department for a month (literally, the day after my last final ever and took a day off for graduation!) We started the blog, established daily posting and internet presence through the current events that was happening. I started submitting more and selling on a more consistent basis. I valued their opinions and their direction. Nothing made me happier than seeing a MAD guy on the floor of a convention or visiting the office once or twice a year. They changed my career and the way I looked at things by just giving a 19-year-old kid a chance and some criticism and encouragement. They let me submit cartoons and I started to sell those too!

I continued to write for the magazine and even got a page in their new book, Inside MAD, to write about MAD as a contributor. I did other freelance art jobs and eventually went back to graduate school to become an art teacher. Even throughout the four years I’ve been teaching, I continued to contribute and write consistently for the magazine. There are too many stories and memories to recount. (Believe me, this could be much longer!) When MAD announced they were moving to California, I went into mourning. My buddies were leaving. There were talks for years about this happening and they resisted as much as they could. I didn��t know what was going to be next for them and the magazine. I wanted to continue writing because it was my outlet and a nice hobby for me to destress from life and my full time gig of teaching cartooning. It wasn’t a job for me, it was fun!

The new year came and it meant starting over with a new staff. It was hard. I tried but my heart wasn’t in it as much as when the New York staff was there. I wrote pieces and sold pieces (many that didn’t get printed because of the shortened run) but contributed none the less. As my job got more intense, I wrote less and less and without the same relationship, I had in the past my motivation folded a little bit before MAD did. My mourning period has lasted for a year and a half so the end of MAD wasn’t such a surprise or as much of a loss as it would have been otherwise for me. It still is a loss, don’t get me wrong but less so. This isn’t any slight to the West Coast MAD staff at all. It was me, not them. MAD became a fun hobby for me. Not my sole income and my way of life. I did it because I had the ideas and I enjoyed the people and the work. Plenty of people make fun of politicians, celebrities and the stupidity of the life but I occasionally got paid for it.

I’ve been asked if I will try to get into other publications. I don’t know. Maybe. You might just see more MAD like pieces in my own webcomics and cartoons. The influence will be there forever and I hope people can clearly see that through the bad puns, the political stupidity and the irony.

MAD is the cartooning and comedy bible. I loved the art as a cartoonist and grew to love the writing and minds behind everything as a contributing writer. My art and views are completely changed by my experiences working and being a MAD idiot. Everything I do is so idea based now because of MAD and being a MAD writer. They weren’t afraid of new blood or printing work from an unknown artist or writer. They gave chances and crafted things that were truly unique. I thank them for changing my life and letting me be a part of theirs and their legacy for the past decade. All of the amazing people and contributors I have met because of it is amazing. I will miss the occasions we would meet, share a joke or even lament about things. My life would be something very different if I didn’t go to a museum in Santa Rosa, if I didn’t submit an internship application and if I didn’t pick up a MAD Magazine on vacation. I would be called an idiot in different, not so surprising and endearing contexts and I wouldn’t have an Alfred sized hole in me today. I’m proud to sound off like I have to other MAD NY staffers and contributors in our coded communications.

Forever MAD

#mad magazine #matt lassen #stay mad #forever mad #satire

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