#my highlights for the day include getting high fives from THREE little kids
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wvrlock · 1 year ago
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// munday here as well with some pics of my and my gf's cosplays last Saturday 💖
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gyucore · 4 years ago
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long live the king
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pairing: mage!hueningkai x noble!reader
tags: fluff, royalty au, friends to lovers, hueningkai can do magic
word count: 3.3k
prompts:
011: "May I have this dance?"
019: "I don't think anyone could ever be as lovely as you."
020: "You look incredible in that."
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Tonight had been advertised as the night to end all nights— a masquerade ball held by the king at the palace, and a brightly lit ballroom decorated with gold and the continent's finest silk, adorning the kingdom's rose insignia. Entertainers and musicians positioned around the vicinity to perform their best acts and tunes, and the gates were left wide open to welcome everyone who wanted to join in, given that they tried their best to dress for the occasion.
Today was an event open to all the kingdom's citizens, from high seated nobles to common men by the streets, everyone was welcome to participate in the king's annual ball. However, that fact didn't matter for a family such as yours. Your father was the Marquess, which meant that you were invited to every single ball or gathering held by the nobility for the nobility. At least, that was how it had been until the incident.
The peering eyes of both the nobles and commoners alike have left you frozen on your spot by the pillar. Your bright red ball gown, although beautiful, was not helping you hide away from the eyes of the crowd. It was evident they were all thinking the same thing.
The unfortunate daughter of a fallen marquess.
News had gotten out about your family's crisis and had spread to the public like a disease. The Grand Marquess losing money, property, and power: The fall of a great noble. The story made headlines for weeks on end— rumors mixing in with the truth, and eventually, everyone had drawn the same conclusion. Pitiful.
You worry about your parents at the other end of the room, doing their best to mingle with the other nobles. The heavy atmosphere was weighing down on your chest.
Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you try to think of the things that calmed you down: the rustic smell of old books at the public library, the warm feeling you'd get when the rays of sunlight touch your skin as you sit by the window with your face buried deep into your favorite classic, the bright smile the common mage boy would give you everytime you crossed paths—
"Wow."
A familiar voice brings you back from your thoughts.
"You look incredible in that." The same bright smile you'd envisioned earlier now stood in front of you.
You gaze in awe at the man before you, dressed in what you could only describe as the most beautiful and elegant ensemble you'd seen tonight. The way the white suit hugged his waist left little room for the imagination. You doubt even the king himself could top this off.
"Lady Y/N. I believe fate must have brought us together in this fine evening." The man gently bends down, taking your hand and planting a kiss so fleeting that you barely felt it. Even with the golden mask on, you could easily tell who it was.
"Kai.."
"Ah, and here I was hoping I'd be a little more mysterious tonight." Kai holds back his laughter as he gazed upon you once more. You can't help but do the same.
Tonight, he looked nothing of a common mage but that of a king himself. If you hadn't known him beforehand, you would've mistaken him as so, especially with tonight's main event— the reveal of the king's successor. But alas, what the mage boy had going on for him was merely for appearances. A commoner like him could never be king in a world where even dreaming of becoming one was considered to be of highest absurdity.
"I thought you said you weren't attending?"
Kai shrugs, folding his hands behind his back. "And refuse my lady when you so graciously asked me out?"
His response catches you off guard. "I don't recall ever asking you anything of that sort."
"You asked if I'd attend."
"And that counts as asking you out?"
Kai chuckles. "When you asked me with such a cute look on your face, it was difficult to think you weren't looking forward to me being here."
And he was right. Given your circumstances, Kai being here with you was like a breath of fresh air. You'd been praying all night that he'd magically arrive to help you take your mind off of things, and you felt like crying out in joy when he actually did.
Kai looks around, seemingly getting a sense of the pressure you were in. "Shall we take a stroll around the garden, my lady?"
You follow his line of sight and spot the royal garden just outside the window. "I'll let you accompany me if you drop the whole my lady business."
Kai purses his lips as he takes your hand in his. "Can't you let me be fancy for one night?"
Every moment you'd spent with Kai up until this point had been the highlight of your days. As the daughter of the Marquess, you'd spent most of your time holed up inside your manor. Women barely got any education aside from the usual classes on manners and societal etiquette, and that included nobles as well. But that never stopped you. Once a week, when the guards changed shifts by the gate, and the maids and butlers were all busy with the weekly general cleaning, you'd take the opportunity to slip out in disguise, undetected by anyone. The main goal was to get to the public library and obtain access to educational material— ones that didn't involve any prim and proper rubbish that you've read over a thousand times.
The first time outside was rather difficult. You barely managed to get inside the library's more educational section while passing as a man. However, every succeeding attempt became easier and easier until coming out in secret and gaining access didn't seem like that much of a hassle anymore.
At the library, you were free to read any book you want, and used this opportunity to brush up on some business and economics as well as some of the basic sciences. You spent the first few months stocking up on knowledge until you felt it fine to relax a little and start reading novels to pass the time without the help of a disguise.
There was a section in the library that you hadn't checked; one that you'd deemed unnecessary as it only contained children's literature. It wasn't until you'd heard the sound of a man's voice followed by children's laughter that you felt compelled enough to take a peek.
"And then, the dragon swooped down onto the village and attacked the innocent villagers! ROARRR. Breathing fire as hot as, well, uh— FIRE!"
You slipped up and giggled at the young man's amusing narration, piping down a bit after realizing that he had noticed you from behind the shelves, throwing a knowing smirk your way.
It was then that he pulled down his cloak. Wavy brown locks gracefully reaching the back of his neck, bright eyes that could make any person let their guard down— he looked around your age which made you feel more at ease.
The young man steps back, dramatically breathing fire out of his mouth as the children cheered. Some were yelling at him to continue until only smoke came out, and you swore you heard one of them ask if he could make the fire turn green. Ridiculous, you think. But you were no different from these children, only being able to stand there in awe at the young man's trick. Perhaps turning the fire green wasn't such a terrible idea.
You've heard of mages among the commoners before, and had met a few that visited your manor but this was the first time you'd seen one in action. The flames that came out of his mouth looked awfully hot but the young man didn't even blink or showed any signs of pain.
He stops the fire and clears his throat, now kneeling down to face the children. "The villagers were worried sick! What would happen to their crops, their produce, their livelihood? If only a hero would come along and save them!" He makes an overly exaggerated wail before gasping.
"Well, who do we have here? A warrior has come to save the villagers!" The young man points at your direction and you feel your blood run cold as all the children in the room had turned their attention towards you, hopeful.
"A young maiden has arrived to slay the evil dragon!"
You quickly shake your head at his statement, holding your arms out in a cross. "No, kids. Don't believe what this man says. I am not a warrior, and I'm certainly not here to slay any dragons"
The young man raises a brow, getting up from his spot. "Then why do you have the magical sword that was forged to slay the mighty dragon?"
"What sword?"
The young man snaps his fingers. "That sword."
The weight on your hips dip on one side and you couldn't believe your eyes as a sheathed sword had magically manifested beside your waist out of thin air. "How did you— wait, is this a real sword?! You can't play around with real swords in front of children!"
The children turn towards the young man in confusion.
"Well, kids. Do you want the kind lady to slay the dragon with a real sword?"
"YES!" The children cheered.
The young man turns to you with a smile. "You gotta give the kids what they want, Miss."
An exasperated expression makes its way to your face. "I am not slaying any made up dragons!"
"Now, what's all this talk about slaying dragons?"
Taehyun, one of the stricter librarians, had come out of nowhere, surprising everyone. His eyes scan the room and quickly notices three things: (1) the dangerous sword hanging on your waist, (2) the excessive amount of children in the room when the sign on the way in definitely mentioned a capacity of only five, and (3) someone let the mage boy inside the library again. The culprit was evident.
"Jung Kai, I swear to the heavens I will—"
"Alright kids, time to go! We'll end the story next time!" The young man, Kai, rushes the disappointed children out of the section before they heard something they shouldn't.
You were about to walk away yourself but was quickly stopped by Taehyun's hand blocking your path. "Kai, didn't I tell you that you're not allowed to perform magic inside the library? And seriously," He confiscates the sword on your waist, holding it up in the air. "Violence?"
Kai looks at you and grins. "I suppose we could've gone with a more romantic ending. Something like the warrior's kiss saving the dragon from his curse, and he turns back into this super handsome, super cute, and super macho mage."
The way he shamelessly described himself left you speechless, and you steal a glance at the librarian who looked as equally disgusted as you are.
"Just clean up the mess before you leave. And that means you too, Miss Dragon Slayer."
"But I didn't even—" You cut yourself off after Taehyun dismisses himself from the room.
The section falls silent and Kai walks up to you, a smile ever present in his face. "I'm guessing this is the start of our new friendship?"
And that was what started it all. Everytime you'd visit the library after that, you seemed to bump into Kai more often than you liked. He saw through the disguise the first time he saw you wearing it and had promised to not utter a single word to anyone. The mage boy was much more reliable than he seemed to be, often helping you in your studies and teaching you more than the books ever could. Sometimes, he'd convince you to take a stroll around town and had shown you sights and wonders you wouldn't have expected to see inside the kingdom.
Before you knew it, Kai had become someone you'd cherished, and someone whose company you genuinely appreciated. He was patient and understanding as your makeshift mentor, and was this fun and outgoing guy whenever you two were out together. Kai became the first friend you'd made on your own regardless of status and the only friend you wished to keep by your side.
"I take it that the people in the ballroom were too much?" Kai speaks the moment arrived at the garden.
"Please. I couldn't even breathe in there." You play it off with a chuckle but thoughts of worry still plague your mind. "I'm guessing you probably know by now."
"About what? The fact that you're the daughter of the Marquess or that the Marquess has been in a crisis for a while?"
"Both."
Kai reaches for your hand, holding it reassuringly. "I've known for a while but that doesn't change anything now, does it? We became friends without the burden of our status, and we'll stay as friends regardless."
You hated this, hated how he always knew exactly what to say. The heat rushes up to your face and you squeeze his hand tighter, avoiding eye contact. "Thank you."
But truthfully, there was a little voice in Kai's head that wished you could be something more. Not after you'd shared those intimate moments alone at the library at dusk, not after he rushed in to catch you in his arms when you fell while shelving a book on the top shelves, and especially not after you almost shared a kiss after saying goodbye that night he'd helped you sneak back in.
Even now, as he lovingly gazed at your silhouette beneath the moonlight, he'd hoped that he'd have the chance to tell you how he felt. But then again, the chance could be right now at this very moment. The two of you were, afterall, at the king's ball.
"So, how were the gentlemen earlier?"
"What?" You raise your head to face Kai.
"I've no doubt that hundreds of people had been lining up to dance with you all evening." Kai grins as he gently lets go of your hand.
"Please, I haven't danced at all tonight."
"I find that quite hard to believe."
You sigh, recalling the events from earlier. "No one would want to be seen dancing with a fallen Marquess' daughter now would they?"
"Not when you look this beautiful?" Kai jokingly walks around you and you shy away from his gaze.
"You know I never say things I don't mean, Y/N." Kai bends down and holds your hands in his. "And believe me, I don't think anyone could ever be as lovely as you."
"Is flattery your main personality trait now?" You say as an attempt to not let his compliment affect you any further than it should but fail miserably so.
Kai stands before you with an unreadable expression. You'd argue this was the most serious look he's ever had since you'd met him.
"Care to dance?" Kai asks, leaning in closer, your faces merely inches apart. You feel your heart beating loudly in your chest, and you're almost afraid he might hear.
The moonlight casts a shadow on Kai's face, and despite the darkness, his eyes glistened, reflecting your own as you stared into his. You've never seen anyone look so beautiful. And here he was, telling you that you're the loveliest person he's ever known.
"Right now?"
Kai nods, taking off his mask and tossing it over to the side. "And I'd like it if we could dance without our masks too. I've been wanting to get a good look at your face all night."
You chuckle, removing your mask and tossing it to to the ground next to his. "And how do you suppose we dance without music? My reputation's already dirt at this point and I do not want to be branded as the crazy noble dancing at the royal garden in complete silence."
Kai fails to suppress his laughter, holding on to your shoulder to maintain himself upright. "Well, I wouldn't want to let my dear lady look crazy now would I?"
"And what are you planning to do?"
"Well, I am a mage." Kai smirks as he manifests a scepter out of thin air, leaving a trail of golden dust flurrying down.
This was the first time you've ever seen it in person. Kai had mentioned how he needed the aid of his scepter to perform high level magic, but he'd never taken it out in front of you until now. One look at the scepter and anyone could tell not just any old mage owned the darn thing. It looked majestic by all means, intricately decorated with gold and topped off with a brightly colored red gemstone you couldn't seem to identify. You'd heard that mages often created their own unique gemstones as a manifestation of their mana but for Kai's to be red, which had been said to be a quite powerful variant, made you wonder just how powerful your friend had been.
"And here we go." Kai takes the scepter in his hand and drives it into the ground. The impact causes a wave of light to burst from the scepter and spread throughout the reaches of garden. In a split-second, the wave of light rushes back into its source, compressing into a huge orb of light lifting up into the sky, rivaling the moon with its glow. The orb splits into smaller pieces and starts to dance around the garden, leaving you in awe at the spectacle.
Kai finds himself grinning from ear to ear at your reaction. He'd studied magic as an expression of rebellion against his father but now, he'd found another purpose to perform these little tricks of his. He places his hand on your waist and pulls you closer. "Wait for it."
The orbs of light find their places around you, slowly taking the shape of various instruments you've seen inside the ballroom, from strings to percussions, and even wind instruments. Smaller pieces of light continued to hover the surroundings, resembling glowing fireflies in the dark.
"Kai, this is beautiful." You look up at the young man, and he steps away, bowing his head as he plants yet another kiss on the back of your hand.
"May I have this dance?"
His eyes meet yours and you feel your heart skip a beat. It was rather difficult to explain. The Kai in front of you right now had been the same Kai you've always known, but somehow.. different.
You raise your hand for him to take, guiding your other hand to find perch on his shoulder, and his finding its place on your waist. With the first step, the instruments started playing. It's a piece you've heard before, one that Kai had fondly hummed nearly everytime you were together at the library.
It was as if the world had faded into the distance, and at this moment, there was only you and him, dancing alone in the garden. He pulls you close, his hold gentle and warm. Kai spins you around. The heel of your shoe collides with a rock, and you nearly stumble back until Kai manages to grab you by the waist on time, pulling you back into his arms.
You spot the smirk on his face under the moonlight, and you press a finger against his lips. "Not one word."
"I wasn't going to say anything." Kai lets you go, and you quickly grab a hold of his arms to find balance.
"Of course you weren't."
"Well, I do have something I have to tell you. A few things, actually."
You cock a brow at him, and he steps forward. "I'll tell you the most important part first."
"And that is?"
Kai reaches out to cup your cheeks, gazing into your eyes as if asking permission. You didn't need to say anything for him to understand, and he closes the gap between you, pressing his lips against yours. The feeling was foreign but certainly welcome, and you soon close your eyes and reciprocate, wanting to feel more of his soft lips, and wanting to hold him closer and closer.
For long had you held out on this, on actually acknowledging your growing feelings for the lad in fear of having to live with the thought of him not feeling the same. But in this moment, you felt a heavy burden being lifted from your shoulders.
"Kai, I.."
The light from the orbs dim down and soon dissipates. Kai pulls away, gazing upon your flushed face. "You mean the world to me, Y/N. I don't think my life would ever be the same without you."
The trumpets blare in the ballroom, a signal that the new king was to make an appearance soon. You feel Kai's hand around yours. "As for my other confession, I think it's best we head back first."
He leads you back into the ballroom, and disappears the moment you find your parents in the crowd. You join them in the center as everyone gathers to get a glimpse at the new king.
The herald makes his way beside the grand staircase, straightening himself up to make the announcement that every citizen had been waiting to hear all evening.
"Presenting the next in line to the throne, to rule the vast lands of our esteemed nation, and lead us into a continuing era of prosperity! Our future King, His Royal Highness, Kai Kamal Huening!"
The doors open, revealing Kai, your Kai, adorned in the royal family's crest, robes, and jewelries as he made himself known to his loyal subjects.
Behind him was public librarian, Kang Taehyun, who had been revealed to be serving as one oc the King's advisors, and now, for the new monarch.
"Long live the King!"
Kai could pick out your from the crowd in a heartbeat, hos gaze meeting yours as he flashes you his signature smile. You couldn't believe what was happening— Kai, your best friend in the whole world, had just confessed his love to you. And now, that same Kai had revealed to you and to the public that he had been the future ruler of the country all along. The crowds cheered.
"Long live the King!"
"Long live the King." You whisper to yourself, wondering what the future has in store for you.
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spiltscribbles · 4 years ago
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Prompt 37 (from the first list) and bodyguard au seems interesting
By the way I love your writing please never stopped just finished your recent fic and its one of my favourites.
~Notes: 😭😭😭 baby u can’t be out here recklessly making me sob!!! I am so flustered right now!! Thank you so much for being a beautiful soul 😌😌 ok NEGL the bodyguard thing is not here Becs I’m dumb and couldn’t think of one, but there’s protective sirius💜 I hope you don’t hate this!!! ILU!!!
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Smash Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜 |  A Reblog Means SO Much!!!!
.-
Alphard Black was a good man,  a man of his community,   a man of the law. He taught the ins and outs of the constitution  at Columbia, never went an inch over the speed limit, hell, he even  separated his recyclables into their proper piles for the garbage collector, and  all while spending his down time volunteering at some sort of virtuous charity or impactful outreach program for inner city youths—the man basically leaped right out of the screen of some cheesy, after school special, wacky ties and rumpled hair aplenty.
Alphard Black was a virtuous, humble man who abided by the laws set out for him to a painstaking degree—So Sirius sorta thinks it’s hilarious that he’s kind of the exact antithesis of his uncle— the man who brought him up after running away from his bat shit parents and their bat shit values as the top of the one percent.  Just kind of though.
Sirius likes to think he’s still a good guy—albeit in the typical, non second coming of Christ wannabe kind of way.  He gives spare change to homeless folks at Grand Central, doesn’t sneer at raucous kids inside of restaurants or busses… for fuck’s sake  he even smiles at strangers more often than not—— just the typical, What a nice day isn’t it, smile and not, I’m actually a blood thirsty maniac ready to carve out all your organs and wrap your naked, dead body in saran wrap Dexter style, smile…Which is actually a type of smile Sirius has become intimately familiar with considering that unlike his Uncle Alphard, Sirius may have a problem with the whole “Laws are created for the good of the public,” ideology, and rather subscribes to the way of thought that thinks it’s kind of thrilling to see how much you can bend and skirt around the rules till they break, or till he gets caught. Which in turn mostly manifests into Sirius participating in a very high demand business—the sort that’ conducts it’s transactions within the metaphorical underground, and makes it so he spends his days with a group of brilliant  assholes that he considers family, and a discretely wicked boy who he thinks is most probably the love of his god forsaken life.
Mother Mary,  help them all.
~*~
“Padfoot too Moony, are you in, Moony.” 
A moment of static passes before Remus’s voice trickles through the minuscule bluetooth  snuggled in Sirius’s ear, and he can’t help but smirk. “Why are you still trying to make these codenames work—they don’t work, they’re all awful and trash,  and we should just stick with the numbers we were given when Moody first scouted us.”
“Mmm yeah, Moons, talk dirty to me.”
“You’re a fucking idiot,”
“Say trash again.”
“I hate you,” Remus intones. He  sounds all surly and bothered, and Sirius’s fingers curl together to card through the phantom strands  of his hair, knowing full and well how adorably flustered Remus gets whenever they are having one of their little sparring sessions—It’s also the same look he gets whenever he’s incredibly turned on and has no idea how to handle it. Coincidence? Sirius thinks not.
“Ah, Moony, my love, you say that as if my perfect baritone isn’t the highlight of your day. Like you don’t write sonnets and odes about it’s every cadence and lilt in your little diary you think I don’t know about. As if—“
“I’m shutting you off now,” Remus cuts in with his best, I’m trying to pretend  that I am so totally annoyed even if I’m actually really amused by you and all your antics, voice. It’s one that’s basically come second nature to him whenever he speaks to Sirius, ever since they had met three years ago and Sirius had to teach him the trick of the trade after Remus had been invited into the fold, while also trying not to completely accost him with his lips and hands and teeth until the work day was over.
“You would never.” 
“You seriously have an overinflated sense of worth if you’re starting to doubt that I very much would,” Remus goads, but he forgets that Sirius can see every nook and cranny of the swanky penthouse from his perch in the getaway van, thanks to his very beautiful laptop monitor.  And yeah, Sirius can so totally spot that little flicker of a grin tugging on the edges of his pink lips,  where Remus is trying to hide it behind the flute of wine in his grasp—his very strong and capable grasp, one that’s wrapped around the neck of that glass just so tight—Oh, erm, yeah. That’s  a thought Sirius should definitely not be having at their current predicament.
“Righto, beautiful, whatever you say.”
“Was there an actual reason for your little interference, besides you being pissy that you had to take the get away position this time around?” Remus sighs, long suffering before offering a subdued, half grin to a very haughty looking woman passing him, predatory leer on her plump lips. And jeez, Sirius bemoans her poor eardrums if they’re suppose to be carrying diamonds that thick all night long— Poor hag will probably end up needing stitches like his dear mother.
“I missed you is all, lover.”
“Goodbye, Sirius.”
“Oh fine, you total spoil sport. Just an FYI that Marlene’s gotten into the volt’s room, and she’s decoding it as we speak.”
“Oh, good. Should I-“
“Moons, it’s Marls, she’s got her shit handled. You just stand there and be a the good, pretty honeypot that we all know you can be.”
Remus growls somewhere deep in his throat, and it’s bringing a flurry of such beautiful imaginings to the forefront of Sirius’s mind— including last night, with Remus’s lovely, thin wrists tied up and Sirius’s mouth trailing up and down his every patch of skin.
God, was that a good night.
“You’re a pain in my ass.” 
“I know, it’s a point of pride for me that I get to say I tap that. But hey, always game to switch things up if you are?”
“You are the absolute worst person ever.”
“Ooo are we circling back around to speaking filthy things, because I’ve been having this fantasy including you and these lace—“
That’s when Remus actually does shut off the communication device, and starts chatting up some smarmy businessman who can’t stop staring at his protruding collarbones.
Sirius is most certainly not jealous.
Nope, not at all—Not even a little bit.
Sirius is not jealous.
Okay, fine…So he’s a bit bothered, but can anyone blame him? All of that—chorded muscles and sparkling eyes—is reserved for  Sirius, and Sirius alone. It’s taken years of volleying barbs and really intense sexual tension that was all finally resolved after a way too dramatic spat outside some sleazy BDSM club on the wrong side of town where Sirius got himself fucking shot, and Remus couldn’t stop yelling at him for being such a mother fucking, idiotic, thoughtless prick, (Remus’s words not Sirius’s,) for them to finally get to this point. For fuck’s sake, it seemed as if Remus’s anger fueled diatribe would never end, so Sirius just took the dilemma into his own hands and slanted their lips together, bloody and breathless, panting out an “I love you too,” while Remus just patted up and down Sirius’s torso, not knowing where to put his hands, dumbfounded and eager. As if he could hardly believe that it was actually happening, as if he was shocked that Sirius had finally just put them out of their mutual misery and spoke out loud what’s been lingering in their gazes, and tailing the ends of too short exchanges for years at that point—ones always composed of banter and barbs but always to fearful to take the extra step they yearned for.
Yeah, so it wasn’t exactly a cinderella story level of romance, but the point is they’ve fought tooth and nail to finally get to this point in their relationship. Nights made up of spilt hair on warm sheets, and  hungry kisses of farewell, and shirts tumbling together so many times that  they don’t even know which belongs to who anymore—All of them lingering with a sent of both of them, together. Something intimate. Something remarkable. Something far too soft when considering their line of employment—But it works for’m, and that’s all that counts.
Before Sirius could get to lost in getting all starry-eyed over the life they’ve built for themselves, Sirius moves to sweep his hands across the keyboard, A cautious eye still on Remus and his unwanted suitor while dividing the screen so that he can check back on Marlene’s progress, which is quite impressive if he does say so himself.
“And Black Widow pulls through again,” He commends with a low whistle, watching her practically stroll out of the volt, ancient artifact securely settled in the bag swinging off her shoulder, and cocky sneer proudly splayed across her pretty face.
“You know it dweeb.”
“THat’s not my code name,” Sirius points out  with a put upon exhale.
Marlene’s only response is to hike up her manicured brows in counterfeit surprise.  “you sure? I could’ve sworn…”
Sirius legitimately contemplates just driving off and leaving her stranded, signaling to Remus a separate meet up point for just the both of them. But Eventually, he reasons  that might be a bit of an over reaction. So he settles for just growling out a reminder for her  to “Respect the name,” while a glowing Marlene slinks into the passenger seat.
“Your so precious.” Sirius swats her hand away where she’s begun rubbing her knuckles into his scalp. “Call pretty boy and let’s bounce, will you?”
Reluctant, Sirius listens—only and only because he’s about ninety nine point five percent positive that she could probably beat’m to a pulp with one hand tied behind her back and both eyes glued shut.
~*~
The mission was one they’ve been calculating for months, a huge catch with a credibility brought with it that doubles its actual monetary prophet—(And wowza, that price check is all levels of ridiculous.) Moody is beyond  proud, and tells them as much with a crazy large celebration back at their little underground headquarters, (which is actually an entire floor on one of the top levels of a huge ass skyscraper in the meatpacking district that disguises itself as just a financial consultant firm in the light of day.)
It’s made even more wonderful considering how he, Remus and Marlene are basically the guests of honor for their success. So that night  they drink, and dance and just generally get absolutely slobbered…Then subsequently remember nothing the following morning, as tradition always dictates.
Though Sirius does  distinctly remember trading sloppy hand jobs in the bathroom with Remus while the latest Beyonce banger pounds in the space between them.
 It’s a good night.
~*~
Unsurprisingly, the hangover that persists even two days later really makes Sirius question the worth of all that celebrating, and he ponders on whether or not being sober would be so bad.
“Morning, Black!” 
Sirius cringes back at a crowing Dorcas—Looking as wickedly gorgeous and put together as always—Dark eyes clear and methodic, and long curls obviously freshly washed. 
“Sorcerous!” He accuses with as much vehemence as he could muster. “your evil! How are you even so perky! Stop it! Stop! You’re hurting my eyes!”
Dorcas just preens with far too much amusement than what should be warranted—it’s almost as if she’s enjoying his pitiful disposition. “Not all of us got as sloppy as you Saturday night may I remind.”
“Then you’re doing your entire life incorrectly.”
“I just have a modicum of self restraint, unlike you.”
“Lies! Lies and slander! I am so very disciplined! I didn’t even tell you guys about the time Remus gave me a blow job in the middle of a glass elevator when we were shopping for Jamsie and Lily’s engagement gift!”
Dorcas just rolls her eyes heavenwards, painstakingly exasperated. “C’mon, dumb ass, Alice needs you to use those hacking skills of yours to get the money Lestrange still owes us for collecting those tears of the ocean. And her bank account is sealed shut.”
“Ah, no Cas ’s too early! And my head hurts! I can’t.”
“Shouldn’t have been such a drunken mess during the party I reckon,” Dorcas scoffs with an imperious tilt of the head, tugging him along without even an ounce of sympathy.
“Hey! It was a celebration!” Sirius flails, and Dorcas just looks at him with a decidedly unconvinced glower. 
“It’s all in moderation Sirius.”
“Not at a party it isn’t!” He argues back, totally knowing he’s in the right.
“Yeah whatever, you’re just lucky you weren’t sent off to Shanghai with lover boy, which by the way,” Dorcas pivots on her heels  to face Sirius straight on, prodding at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder.  “Looks like you missed a hickey sweets,” she toots loftily, poking at it again, a flush blooming across Sirius’s cheeks in response.  “Not good work decorum if you ask me.”
“You’re face ’s not good work decorum,” Sirius snarks back mulishly. Dorcas just laughs with glee.
“Do I need to talk to poor, innocent Remus about proper biting placement for you once he gets back?”
“Pff, Remus and innocent don’t belong in the same sentence.”
“Fine, then  I can just give you some tips on how to properly layer foundation? I’m sure it’s a travesty how easily shit shows up with your Wonder Bread complexion.”
“You actually are evil! Aren’t you?”
Sirius could still hear Dorcas’s cackles from down the hall where Alice has set him up for the morning, and he idly thinks to himself how exactly he’s made it so that every woman in his life could destroy him with nothing more than a look.
~*~
Considering that all of their  livelihoods are basically glorified bank robbers, Sirius knows that their jobs don’t really lend themselves to being able to check in on each other whenever they’d please—the only devices they’re allowed for communication are the bluetooth sets  for the team deployed on the task at hand, and a single burner. It can get annoying sometimes, but Sirius and Remus always make it a point to send each other a message from the router phone  whenever they arrive to the mission’s ground of operation—It’s a practice ingrained into them, one  they began long before they ever started dating, one  that they never break, not even if they’re arguing or it’s the middle of the night—It’s important. They’ve both lost to many people in their short lives, and they both know how it feels to be delegated to the worrying mess, wondering what’s happening to their loved one, being consumed by the most awful of possibilities. They do it because they respect each other far too much not to.
So Sirius finds it excruciatingly odd that he doesn’t hear from Remus in over thirty-six hours since he left to the Shanghai hit. 
“Maybe he just forgot, Pads,” James shrugs, always the level headed ringleader. “No Proclivity is absolutely bullet proof—Ah, excuse me for the unplanned pun.” He scratches the back of his head a little sheepishly— the glasses of his wireframes glinting in the light of their shared workspace.
And the thing is, point. James is totally right. Remus just could’ve forgot. It was a long plane ride, he could’ve just been jet legged and a little dazed and it could’ve just slipped his mind  to message Sirius when he landed. That’s totally a possibility. 
But see the thing is, that’s also totally not a possibility—like at all. Remus is like the most diligent person on the face of the planet, which may kind of seem out of character considering how he’s more of the type to follow his heart over protocol when it counts, and his entire livelihood is based off the evasion of the law—But even still, Remus is also the guy who likes a true and tried method. He likes having security in the aspects of his everyday  life he can control. Sirius knows how borderline neurotic Remus can get about certain things, like finishing all of his paper work the night it’s given, or having a stable workout regiment, and a bunch of other minuscule, everyday things that tethers him. But Sirius also knows that the texts Remus sends him blows all of those out of the water. They’re something crucial—something vitally important. If the roles were reversed, if it were Sirius who forgot to send the text, then yeah, Remus would have a perfect history to look back on and just shrug it off as Sirius having been thoughtless, no big deal. Remus would just make a note to give him  an ear full when he gets back. 
But the rolls aren’t reversed.
It’s Remus who didn’t send anything, and Sirius knows it in his heart of hearts that this is not normal, that Remus would never have forgotten. Remus would never have fucking been able to go to sleep without passing Sirius a message of safe arrival. It’s just not him. 
James still looks unsure even after Sirius’s way to verbose and borderline babbling explanation of why he knows something isn’t adding up, so he decides to hit him below the belt.
“If this were Lily you wouldn’t be second guessing this.” 
James jolts back as if Sirius had just smacked him, which Sirius guesses is kind of true, in the metaphoric sense at the very least. But whatever, Sirius’s right, and he knows it. 
IF this was Lily— the beautiful, kind baker that James had met coincidentally on a random Sunday afternoon, someone completely divorced from this world— well, there would  be no room for discussion.
“IF this were Lily you would trust your gut, and we’d already know what went wrong. We’d know that you were right, the she wasn’t safe.” Sirius’s face feels heated, and he knows that his throat is closing up, but he can’t help it god damn it. This is Remus—And even the thought of him being in any way hurt—No, Sirius refuses to think that way. Because he’s not, he can’t be. This is Remus god damn it. He’s brilliant and strong and he can handle himself. He’s what everyone in their group secretly strive to be—He’s not hurt, he can’t be hurt.
James just sits there, gawking at Sirius, for a moment of pure and utter silence. Sirius doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t fold back from the intensity in his best friend’s— his brother’s— gaze. 
“This is Remus god damn it, James”
Something fierce rippling over his face, James nods, finally seeming to understand.
“Let’s tell Moody,  and call a group meeting. We need to figure out what the hell’s going on.” 
Sirius sags with the little relief he’s given, pretends that it doesn’t feel like there’s not a wildfire still spreading over his chest  from the  bone deep fear.
~*~
Two hours later finds their little ragtag group huddled in the largest meeting room they have, and  Sirius hunched over a menacing letter that was hand delivered by one of Lestrange’s ghoulish little minions— Crouch if their intel is correct. 
“Any news is good news, right?” Peter— their mousey little researcher— says in some weak attempt of comfort from where he’s silently been situated in the love seat the furthest away from the lump some, and Sirius replies by snarling viciously at him;  making Peter shutter back, like the spineless weasel Sirius has always assumed him to be.
Sirius is not comforted. Sirius is furious and sick and he hates everything  in sight. And all Sirius could think of is Remus, Remus, Remus.
“What do we do,” James’s voice is strong, convicted in the painful silence of the room—But when Sirius looks up, he could still see the worry etched into his handsome features, and the fear threaded into his stance. 
James is scared, and that might worry Sirius more than anything else could. 
“This is my fault, I sanctioned just stealing the money she owed us and I was the one who thought Remus would be fine on a solo mission—I thought it’d be a simple grab. I didn’t put two and two together—I just didn’t—“ Alice breaks off, looking away from the group, and Frank slings an arm around his wife’s slender shoulders.
“Hey now, ’s not your fault, ’s not no ones,” as if to emphasize his point, Frank gives a downright menacing grimace to everyone in the room, daring them to disagree. “It’s Remus, he’s resilient. And that bitch knows if he’s actually hurt we’ll destroy everything she’s ever built for herself.” 
“Don’t be so sure,” Sirius’s surprised of the jaggedness of his own voice, leveling him with a look of utter fury. “She’s a psychotic, selfish, self indulgent bitch—There’s worse things than just beating him up or locking him in some cellar.” 
From the corner of his eye he sees Alice shutter, is briefly reminded of that stint where she was badly injured after a run in with one of the darker ringleaders in their line of work, Riddle. And then he remembers, unbidden, how that bastard has some sort of fucked up Harley Quinn, Joker esthetic going on with Bellatrix Lestrange— and a sick, twisted part of Sirius that actually does blame Alice for sanctioning those two risky missions so close together, is savagely pleased of the effect that the reminder has on her. But the rest of Sirius is just disgusted by himself and hates himself even more when remembering where Remus is at this very moment, and what he must be going through. There’s no time to be pointing fingers, and Sirius knows it.
“Whatever, no time to think of it now,” Sirius rises, and the way all of their eyes follow his every move (Even Moody who is the actual boss— doesn’t go over his head. 
“What do you think we should do from here?” Dorcas asks in a small voice, clutching onto the letter like a life line—She’s Remus’s best friend, Sirius knows that, knows that she stopped only skirting  along the edges of this unsavory line of work until Remus came along and helped her wiggle out of her shell. And the reminder makes Sirius feel such a burst of aching for Remus all at once that he nearly topples over, just barely catches himself with a hand on the tabletop.
“Peter,” Sirius barks, making the blonde finally straighten. “Check out where Bellatrix is scheduled to appear next.”
“Ah, erm on it, of course.” 
Sirius starts to feel a little better—no not better, balanced. He knows what needs to be done, what will   happen next, knows that it’ll turn out all right. 
It has to turn out all right, because he can’t fathom a world where it doesn’t— a world without Remus isn’t worth even a breath.
~*~
If there’s anything that Sirius knows about supreme bitch face herself, it’s that Bellatrix is  cavalier to a fault. So it really doesn’t surprise him when Peter finds out that she’s holding a little gala for her new play things art exhibit in her own home that night, and Sirius intends on giving his congratulations, whether or not he’s on the guest list. 
~*~
“Hey, can you hear me.” 
Sirius presses an inconspicuous finger onto his eardrum when Dorcas’s voice breaks through, speaking the affirmative. 
“All right, well Moody says that upstairs is most likely where you’ll find’m. Marlene and James will stay down at the party just incase anything goes wrong.” 
“Right,” Sirius nods to himself, trying to put together all the new information that’s swimming in his mind. “Thanks Cas.”
“Stay safe, and bring him home. Don’t fuck this up, Sirius.” Her voice is small and fragile. Sirius could picture the gleam to her big doe eyes. “We need you both safe.”
“Of course."
~*~
As expected, the upstairs is a labyrinth of doors and alcoves that Sirius could barely wrap his mind around, the only constant thought is that it makes sense that Bellatrix would want to keep the money from the job she had them perform for her. The rent for this place definitely can’t be cheap.
Sirius tries at least ten different rooms before he comes across one that’s locked from the inside as well as a deadbolt, and His heart seizes with a choked sort of hope before he starts pounding against it. 
“Remus! Remus! Are you in there!” His voice goes ragged at how loud he’s screaming, but Sirius doesn’t let up. He starts calling  for him even louder if possible. “Remus!” 
“Ah, ah, ah,” Sirius stiffens, his blood running cold before slowly turning around to a very amused looking Bellatrix Lestrange. Predatory sneer swept across her blood red lips, and weight slung to her left hip. The picture of radiance and leisure in her slinky, black dress. She’s having fun toying with Sirius, with all of them. 
“Where the fuck is he,” Sirius spits out tersely—trying to sear wholes right through her disarming face. He thinks with a start  that she’d be pretty in an almost unchanging way—a timeless elegance that kind of mirrors Remus’s. But where beneath Remus’s golden exterior is all passion and goodness and an endless capacity of love, under Bellatrix’s pale white skin and dark eyes and sheets of even darker hair is just ugliness and cruelty and Sirius has never hated anyone more, or so intensely.
“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry that they sent the best of their group to the den,” She swaggers up to him, each step premeditated—a lion closing in on her prey, and her leer right then— self assured and cruel all at once— is like a mirror of his mother’s so thoroughly that it’s painful. “I’d really hate to ruin those movie star good looks you’ve got going on,” she runs the back of her hand down his face slowly, tendrils of her warm breath edging his lips. “And honey, you really are so deliciously gorgeous. But Moody needs to learn that no one double plays me so flippantly. No  respect, that kind of behavior  really can’t be tolerated. You understand that, don’t you  love?”
Right then, Bellatrix moves to  gouge Sirius right in the stomach with a dagger she had hidden in the sleeve of her dress—but Sirius’s quicker. 
He sweeps Bellatrix’s feet right from under her, twisting her arm behind her back and using her own weapon to chop off the doorknob, all in one fluid movement. Though,  he only has a sparing moment to feel boastful before he steps into the room to find Remus—sickly looking with blood matted in his golden locks, before everything turns to a buzzing in  the background—Sirius runs on autopilot, with the only crucial thought being to get Remus out safely. 
“Baby, I’m here, I’ve got you.” Sirius tells him with the words catching in his throat, and feels such a drowning amount of relief when he hears a gargled retort from Remus. “I’d never let anything happen to you, love. I’m so sorry. I’ll never let something like this happen again.” Sirius tells him with all the earnestness in the world, gently collecting him into his arms. “I’ve got you now, I won’t let go.” The promise is  as sure and true as the pump of his heart—Remus, Remus, Remus.
~*~
When they all return to headquarters, everyone circles a still limp and shallowly breathing Remus, while Dorcas figures out the extent of his injuries.
It’s the worst hour of his life Sirius thinks—The not knowing, it hurts like nothing else. And he swears once more, to himself and the moonlight and the stars peeking through the skyline that he’ll never let this happen, never again., doesn’t want Remus ever out of his sight.
~*~
A week later, and everything feels as if it’s back to normal—more or less.
Their bedroom smells like sage—thanks to the candles Lily bought Remus for his last birthday—And Remus’s swaddled into the most comfortable blanket Sirius could find—his twisted ankle elevated, and a fresh bowl of soup on his night stand.
It’d be the picture of absolute bliss… Now if Remus wasn’t scowling so morosely. 
“You seem mad,” Sirius notes, standing over him with a freshly fluffed pillow. Remus looks up at him from under his spider leg lashes, so very unimpressed.
“You’ve never taken care of me  nearly so intently   a day in your life.”  Remus charges.
“Untrue!” Sirius squawks in contrary. 
“When I got food poising from that sushi place last year, you blamed me for eating it wrong.”
“Yeah, well it’s blasphemous to ever blame Kimiko! The woman is a titan!” 
Remus’s mouth quirks up, his eyes twinkling with unadulterated adoration. “You’re an idiot.”
Sirius deflates. “Okay, so I might be kind of majorly mother penning it right now,” Remus cranes a incredulous brow. “Okay, okay so a lot mother penning it. But, Remus— love— you were missing—like legitimately missing. And then i found you and you were…” He trails off, can’t even speak the horrors of that night. 
“Yeah, I was,” Remus links their fingers together, pulling Sirius closer, and opening his mouth so that when Sirius crouches to come face to face, he can kiss him properly.  “But you happen to be a pretty all right boyfriend, you found me—I’m fine. You made sure of that.”
“More than all right prick,” Sirius knocks their foreheads together and Remus feigns being in excruciating pain. “I fucking hate you,” he snorts, saddling against Remus’s side, and nuzzling into his neck, taking in the miraculous scent of him— the citrus and cinnamon and sunlight that he’s come to crave at all hours of the day. “I love you sort of a lot, and it was the worst three days of my life, all right. Can you understand that?” 
Remus only hums,  kisses the tips of Sirius’s fingers before lacing them into his own.
“I understand, love, but Sirius, I’m fine. I’m here. You’re amazing, but you don’t need to protect me. Not constantly. This is our lives, and I need you to trust me that I can handle myself for the most part. All right?” 
Sirius makes a displeased sound, lips curled distastefully, and it makes Remus actually giggle like they were school boys again. And Jesus, Remus’s smile is blinding and beautiful and fucking hell, he’s here. He’s back in there room, back in Sirius’s arms.
“God, I missed you.”
Remus crunches upwards, kissing Sirius, and it feels like a promise that he’ll never leave him again. “I love you Sirius.”
Sirius leers, isn’t ready to have the conversation about learning how to let Remus go out without him. So instead he traces his thumb over Remus’s beautifully plump bottom lip, and bends down to whisper into his ear. “So can we talk about the lace then, because I’ve made some purchases and—“
Remus pushes him off their bed, and Sirius feels his laughter punching out of him in response.
~*~
~My Wolfstar FIC Index💜
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smoochkooks · 5 years ago
Text
—make it right 1 (m.)
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⟶ pairing: jung hoseok/reader
⟶ genre: smut (coming in second part!), angst, fluff
⟶ word count: 19k+ (this part)
⟶ tags/warnings for part one: hip hop dancer!hoseok/drummer!hoseok, ballerina!reader, enemies to friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slowburn, mutual pinning, sexual tension, course language, drinking, hoseok’s hot bandmates, oc rolling her eyes at hoseok every five seconds, some banter and sarcasm, etc.
⟶ summary: he was a punk, she did ballet, avril lavigne sings, but truth to be told, there’s so much more than meets the eye about jung hoseok besides his drums, killer dancing skills and unexplained hatred for tattoos and piercings. because, under the layers of leather jackets and washed out joy division shirts, he’s still just a boy who tries to find his place in this big world.
or, alternatively: ballerina meets certain hip hop dancer slash musician who’s on a mission to win her heart with coffee dates and drumming lessons.
⟶ read second (and final) part here
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The first time you met Jung Hoseok, it was raining.
September had just begun, welcoming the citizens of Seoul with copious amounts of not-so-summer-like weather. And at this point, after three days of non-stopping rainfalls, you were convienced that mother nature was trying to drown the whole city.
It was Saturday afternoon, last remains of August were still in the air, hidden underneath greish clouds covering the whole sky. That didn’t seem to be any problem for the tourists though, emerging from every single corner with smartphones glued to their hands.  
You were running late for your ballet dance teaching class with an umbrella in one hand and your gym bag in another, maneuvering between puddles in white trainers, praying to whatever gods that existed not to soak them through and cursing yourself for constant bad outfit choices when it came to weather. Scorching hot afternoon with friends? Let's wear something black, your brain would suggest. Rainstorm? White converse highs is a great idea!
Your mother would choke you with bare hands probably if she saw you right now.
On your way to the studio, you bumped into some old lady carrying bags of groceries. You threw quick apologies, ignoring the screams of “watch out!’’ along with deathly glares that other people were sending in your direction you, until you finally reached your destination. Exactly five minutes before the time.
Just Dance dance school, located approximately twenty-five minutes long underground ride from your flat (which as a broke college student you highly appreciated), appeared in front of your eyes.
It was a modern building, situated in a part of the city that smelled like soy sauce and burnt meat, but during four months you had been working there you got used to it. There was a nail salon on the first floor and tailor on the second, but the whole third floor belonged to the school.
You started working there on Fridays and Saturdays a while ago, after completely coincidentally stumbling upon an offer found online. The school was looking for someone who could teach kids ballet on weekends. A young, energetic person with experience and, obviously, great patience and sympathy for children.
The only thing you were lacking of was background in teaching. But the manager, Choi Jisoo, did not mind that at all. A row of gold medals and trophies sitting on your shelves was enough to convince her you’re worth giving a chance on a probationary period. After few weeks of proving your skills as the best ballet teacher miss Choi would ever think of, you had got in.
And that was how you dumped your part time job at the petrol station to teach kids at Just Dance twice a week. Friday evenings and Saturday afternoons for a decent amount of money for a college student struggling with real life shit called university fees and rent, that even scholarship couldn’t entirely underwrite.
Now, climbing up the stairs with the speed of light, you knew you couldn’t bring yourself to lose this job because of your silly daytime nap that made you run late for classes.
You bursted into the locker rooms quickly, practically undressing in a hurry. After short examination in front of the mirror and fixing your usual mess of a bun, you spared a quick glance one last time at the clock. Four minutes of delay.
“Fuck!” you muttered to yourself, jogging to the practice room.
The halls, usually quite, now were filled with child-like chatter and bubbling. You frowned. That's strange, you thought to yourself. Your astonishment grew even bigger when you reached your destination, spotting a group of kids, your kids, in front of the practice room, bickering with each other.
“Hey!’’ you shouted, silencing them effectively. “Why aren't you already warming up and stretching inside?” 
One of the kids, a little girl named Jiyho, stepped forward. “The room is occupied by some other group, miss. They were here when we came.” she said.
You raised your eyebrows. Did you perhaps messed up schedules and forgot there were some changes? No, that couldn’t be it. “What do you mean ‘occupied’?” you asked. “That's impossible, we've been having this classes every week here, in this room, for three months. I would know if there were any changes.”  
Kids looked at you helplessly, shrugging their shoulders.  
You sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, of course it's not your fault. I had a really crappy day and now this,’’ you drawled, pointing your hand at the door to the practice room. “Wait here. I’m gonna try to explain this quickly.’’ you added, smiling reassuringly at them.
When you opened the door, loud music filled your ears; some newest Drake's track you couldn’t remember the name of was playing from the speakers. Inside there was a group of kids, slightly older than the ones you were teaching, practing some hip-hop choreography.  
Their teacher's back was facing you so you couldn’t distinguish if it was someone you knew from the school's crew. His dark hair with blonde highlights weren't familiar to you though. He was swaying to the rhythm of the music, counting the moves.  
You cleared your throat loudly and there was no response. Of course no one could have heard you, not over the loud bass blasting through the speakers. You spotted the cause of your problem, a mobile phone charging in the corner of the room, so you went there and turned off the music entirely just before Drake could sing the chorus.
You cleared your throat again and this time everyone, including the dance teacher, heard you without a doubt.
Kids stopped dancing immediately and turned around, wide-eyed with heaving chests. Their teacher looked in your direction too, and now you were sure he had to be a new employee.
He was not much older than you, probably around your age. There was a thin layer of sweat on his forehead he wiped out with the back of his hand, his white t-shirt with the name of some punk rock band you didn't recognize was slightly sticking to his toned chest. He was good looking, you couldn’t deny that, and there was something devilish in the way he eyed your figure up and down with a smirk plastered on his lips.
You almost blushed under his gaze.
“Is there any problem, miss primaballerina?’’ he asked first, not even hiding his mocking tone.  
You straightened up, ignoring his choice of words. “A problem?” you scoffed. “You and your group took the room where I have my classes every Friday and Saturday, so yeah, there is a problem.”
“The room was empty when I came here, so I just took it, it's not a big deal.” he answered, shrugging his shoulders.  
“It is a big deal. Are you blind? This room is made directly for ballet dances. See this thing beside the wall?” You pointed behind him. “It's called barre. We used that for stretching in ballet. Of course you don't know that, how an ignorant hip-hop choreographer wanna be like you would know.” you snorted, chuckling to yourself.  
In the corner of your eye you saw your kids peeking through the door, clearly interested in this unusual situation.
He narrowed his eyes. “I know what this is used for, princess,” he countered. You rolled your eyes at the pet name he used for you. First primaballerina and now this? Touché. “But I still don't see the point of your outburst.”
You were slowly losing your patience. The amusement in the eyes of his dancing group started to get on your nerves. It was a battle for the life and death and you weren’t used to backing away and losing. You had kids to take care of, rent to pay and new season of RuPaul's Drag Race to watch.
So you picked up a new strategy.
“Are you perhaps new here?” you asked, startling him.
“I am, why are you asking?”
“Because if you weren't new, you would know that there is only one practice room with barres in our school. This one, which also happens to be the room where I have my ballet classes every week.” you said triumphantly with a glint of not-so subtle satisfaction in your voice. “So, can you kindly take your kids and go somewhere else?”
That's it, you praised yourself in your thoughts. You got him, he doesn’t have anything up his sleeve.
The guy, however, seemed very much unaffected by your words. If anything, he was even more pleased, making your stony facade broke in seconds as you were losing your former confidence.
“No.’’ he said simply.
You gaped at him. “What?”  
“I said no, princess. I need ten more minutes to finish this practice and I’m done.’’ he replied, reaching for the water bottle standing beside the wall. “Ten minutes, and you will have your bars or barrels all to yourself.”
You ignored an urge to correct him, taking a few tentative steps until you were right in front of him. He outstanded your height for a few solid centimeters, making you feel even smaller than you already were.
In addition, you hated him even more for looking this good even up close.
“Ten more minutes?! I should have started my lesson fifteen minutes ago! My kids are waiting!” You outstretched your arms in the direction where your group was watching the situation cautiously. They looked like tennis match spectators, turning their heads left and right as the argument progressed.
“So are mine,” he snapped back in calm tone, his lips twitching in an amused smile. Your nostrils flared.
“Miss? We could use another room today. We don't mind.” one of the girls from your group, Jihyo as you assumed, proposed shyly.
“But I do mind! I’m not gonna leave it like that!’’ you said firmly, still looking straight into your new rival's eyes.
“Geez, loosen up your primaballerina skirt a little maybe.”
“It’s called tutu, you ignorant assh–!”
“What on Earth is going on here?” the manager, Choi Jisoo asked, entering the room. She was a middle-aged woman, once a contemporary dancer, now leading the school on behalf of her husband. Her red high heels were clicking loudly on the polished parquet surface as she was coming up in your direction. “I heard shouting, so I came to check. Can someone explain me why aren't you having your classes now?”
You immediately rushed to the manager, taking her hands in yours. “Miss Choi, I will explain everything. This man right here,” You pointed at the cause of your anger with distaste written all over your face and he simply rolled his eyes. “took my practice room and I have no place to have my classes.”
Miss Choi turned to look at the choreographer as well. “Is that true, Hoseok?’’ she asked.
The guy, Hoseok, nodded. “This room was empty, so I just took it. I didn’t know someone was supposed to teach here later.”
You scoffed. “There's a graphic hanging on the wall when you enter the building, you should've just–”
“Silence!” miss Choi said loudly and you stopped speaking, face flushed from the embarrassment of being scolded like that by your boss. “Jung Hoseok is indeed new here, so I will let that situation pass. And you, Y/N, will take another room for today’s practice.”
“But–”
“There's no buts. I’m sure Hoseok will know from now on in which room he should have his dance lessons. Go back to your groups, you are dismissed.” she added and left the room, leaving you to stare at her disappearing figure with wide eyes.
You clenched your fists by your sides, breathing deeply to calm your nerves. “Kids, go to the room 23.” you uttered, eyes focused on Hoseok.  
He smirked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “See you around, princess.” he half-whispered and winked.
Beginnings are always tough, and that was why after your first encounter with Jung Hoseok, you were certain you absolutely, undeniably hated his guts.
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The second time you bumped into Jung Hoseok, it was Friday evening two weeks since ‘the accident' and you were walking out of locker rooms after your practice.  
When you opened the door and heard strangled cry of “Ah, fuck!” you rushed to blurt out quick apologies to your victim. “Oh my God, I’m so–” you started but immadietly shut your mouth when you saw the person who you just hit.  
Jung Hoseok, in his full glory of another The Clash t-shirt (you googled their music your first encounter with him and the only nice think you could say about them was that Jonathan played their song in Stranger Things first season) and yes, grey sweatpants (did he even own other clothes?) was standing before you, grinning in the most annoying way you could ever think of.
You wished you could wipe his smug expression off his face with sand paper.
“Fancy seeing you here too, princess,” he trailed off, leaning against the door and making you roll your eyes like every time you saw him on the halls of Just Dance. Even though you were avoiding him like a plague, he seemed to appear wherever you were. A true pain in the ass.
Maybe you were too stubborn, maybe it was your shitty coping mechanism, but decent conversation with someone like Jung Hoseok wasn’t your favourite part of the day, not after the way you were humiliated in front of your boss and underaged students.  
Last week you walked past Hoseok's group and some of them giggled. You could swear they were already making jokes and memes about you behind your back.
And, the worst of it all, an absolute peak of your devastation, was the fact that even your own kids, those who were looking up to you, started to be more reserved around you. Jihyo baked some muffins because she had birthday the other day and didn’t treat you. Jihyo, the girl who once had told you she wanted to be like you in the future.
But none of this anymore.
You turned on your heels and started to walk away but Hoseok followed your footsteps. “Hey, it's rude not to apologize. My right hand hurts now, you know? I need you to kiss it better, princess.” he called, again in the same mocking tone he had used before.
And that was the moment you decided that if choking people to death had been legal, Jung Hoseok would have been already lying dead on the floor.
You ignored his words the best you could, acting like he was invisible. Avoiding the problem wasn’t the best idea you could ever think of, your mum would say but she wasn’t there, so you concluded it was better to act like Hoseok and the situation with practice rooms two weeks ago had never happened.
Hoseok, on the other hand, had very much different outlook on this. “Are you still mad about this thing with practice rooms?’’ he asked, looking at your right profile. You clamped your mouth shut, staring forward. He chuckled. “Christ, I didn't know you're that picky. Are all primaballerinas like this? Right, you are giving me silent treatment, I forgot. But can you please stop and listen what I have to say for a moment?”
After hearing his last words you actually stopped in your tracks, causing Hoseok to do the same.  
You sighed heavily. Maybe he was right after all. You were a bitch sometimes, you couldn’t handle the defeats well and above all, you had probably the worst coping mechanism ever.
That was not the end of the world, somebody would say. Don't worry, be happy, Bob Marley would sing if he hadn’t died. Sparing one minute for Jung Hoseok wouldn’t make the ground to open in half underneath you.
“Go on, I’m listening,” you said, choosing casual tone of absolute unbotherness.
Hoseok took a deep breath, before he started speaking. “Listen, I’m sorry about what happened two weeks ago. It wasn’t intentional, I swear. As you know, I’m new here and you can argue or not but people sometimes deserve second chances,” he remarked, observing your reaction. You should stop rolling your eyes at everything that came off his mouth. “So, I thought we can go for, uhm, a coffee maybe? Tomorrow, after our classes.”
You raised your eyebrows, gawking at him.
“It's all on me. As an apology.” Hoseok added sheepishly.
A coffee? With Jung Hoseok? A hip-hop dancer who didn’t know what barre was? You opened your mouth to snap “am I joke to you?” but you stopped eventually.
To be fair, you had nothing to lose. He wanted to apologize after all, he was the first one to approach you and maybe that was how adults should act.
You looked at him once again, more intensely this time, trying to find any sort of fake politeness in his expression. But in his eyes there was nothing but genuineness. Maybe Jung Hoseok really just wanted to treat you in lieu of apology.
Finally, after a minute that seemed to last forever, you softened. “Fine.”
Hoseok's eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yeah, really. Stop staring at me like that or I will change my mind.” you grumbled and he grinned at you boyishly, in the way he probably made people fall for him. Because with that kind of aura he emitted, it was hard not to. Thank God you could easily resist his charms.
“That's settled then. Wait for me after your practice in front of the locker rooms.” he said, while walking away backwards. “See you tomorrow, princess!”  
When he disappeared behind the corner, you muttered to yourself, “See you too, asshole.”, adjusting the straps of your gym bag.  
It was a good while after that day when you realised that some people really did deserve second chances.  
And Jung Hoseok was one of those kind.
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Your third meeting with Jung Hoseok was a date. Actually, it wasn’t a date at all. You called it ‘coffee for the peace’. United we stand, divided we fall, they said.
Or to paraphrase Fergie: little coffee never killed nobody.
You found yourself standing in front of the mirror in the locker rooms, eyeing yourself with contorted look. Your hair was a mess, which you blamed the weather for. Even though mother nature stopped bombarding the city with rainfalls, the humidity was still there, lurking around the corners and waiting for the right moment to attack. You didn’t even know why you cared so much about your appearance. It was just a coffee, nothing more, nothing less, for God's sake.
With a sigh, you bent over to tie your shoes, and then you heard a voice coming from behind you. The same low, teasing tone that could only belong to–
“Didn't know you've been hiding this under your ballerina skirt all time,” Hoseok mused. “What a waste.”
You twirled around with a speed of light, facing him with slightly pinkish cheeks. It wasn't everyday that someone non-explicitly talked about your ass, especially someone like him. It wasn’t even on full display because you had your leggings on and you knew he was joking but still, your face felt hotter.
“What are doing here? You aren't supposed to be here, it's ladies locker room!” you hissed.  
Hoseok shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve been here forever, so I decided to check if you didn't slip on your point shoes and died.”
You raised your left eyebrow. “Very funny. Now give me a minute and we can go wherever you want.”
“Watch your words, princess, beacuse I might take your offer seriously.”
He couldn't see you but you rolled your eyes hearing him say this regardless. You took your bag from the porch and turned around to face him with a bored expression written all over your features.  
“Don't act like you're doing this as a punishment. You won’t regret, I promise,” After climbing off the stairs, Hoseok opened the door and you embarked on a street. “This place isn't far away from here, just a ten minutes walk.” he explained, choosing a direction you didn’t know.
To distract yourself a little, you started to observe the neighborhood. It was less crowded here, the usual smell from cheap restaurants was less palpable now. You were walking down the street you weren’t familiar with, you hadn’t had a chance to explore it like that yet.  
It was dead quiet between you despite the hustle of the city. You weren’t used to this kind of silence and even though you certainly weren’t a master of small-talks, at least you had to try loosen up the heavy atmosphere a little.
“So,” you trailed off, “You seem to know this part of the city pretty well.”  
Hoseok hummed, taking another turn that seemed to be some kind of a cutoff. “My old dance school I used to go is here, in this area,” he said. “I moved to the boarding school in Seoul from Gwangju when I was sixteen beacuse I wanted to pursue dancing. My parents weren’t very fond of it, but I told them that high school I chose had a very promising programme for kids who wanted to be business majors in the future as they wanted me to be.”
“And did you do something with that? Business, I mean,” you asked.  
He scrunched his nose. “Nah, not really.” He looked like he didn't want to elaborate on that more, so you didn’t press him further. “Enough storytime for now. We're here.”
There you stood in front of a simple coffee shop like many others. Blue Side, signboard said in swirly fonts and English spelling. There was nothing distinctive about it, just an ordinary place you could find in neighborhoods like this in every single city, but you knew places like this one sometimes had living souls inside, telling their own stories.  
Blue Side indoors looked exactly like the name was saying: azure walls, paired with modern white chairs and tables, grayish cloths adoring them. Classy, tasteful decor, someone would say, but one thing seemed completely out of place: big, framed pictures of sunflowers, your favourite plants, hanging on the walls like on a blue sky.  
There was something bizarre about it, they didn’t match the rest of the decoration at all but at the same time they seemed to fit perfectly. They were bringing strange kind of calmness and halcyon aura to the place, marked with cold tones but broken through the yellow warmth.
Hoseok lead you to the table by the window. There wasn’t a lot of people beside you here, so a young looking waitress with dyed pink hair approached you pretty quickly, handing menus. She grinned broadly at Hoseok, too courteous for your liking, and for a moment you wondered just how many coffees the waitress served him before. Probably a good amount, judging by the way he returned the smile.
You looked through the positions briefly, before deciding on a simple espresso. Hoseok didn’t even open his. Regular customer, you thought to yourself, flesh and bones.
Awkward silence fell between you again and this time Hoseok was the one to break it.
“It's weird seeing you without your ballerina outfit,” he said, startling you. “And your hair isn’t in a bun today,” He pointed at the top of his head, tracing invisible circles in the air.
“Is that a bad thing?’’
Hoseok’s smile was smug when he spoke. “Not at all. You look good like this. Not so dramatic.”
You huffed. “I'm not dramatic.”
“Says the person who almost kicked me and my kids out of the practice room, and called me hip-hop choreographer wanna be.”
You opened your mouth to snap a witty response at him but the pink-haired waitress came to collect the orders. Maybe you were losing your mind but you could swear her lips weren't tainted in fuschia before.
“Just an espresso for me,” you said, sending the waitress a forced smile.
“Caramel frappuccino with–” Hoseok started, but the waitress interrupted him.
“With extra cream, got it.” she finished his sentence, clearly proud of herself.
You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress an urge to chuckle. Hoseok sent a polite smile to the girl and averted his gaze to you. The points of his ears were slightly flushed in red.
“So yeah,” he uttered, scartching the back of his neck. “Where were we?”
For a moment you thought about teasing him a little more, but eventually you resigned. He looked enough flustered right now and you’re not that devil as you had thought.
“We were talking about me looking dramatic with a bun and tutu on,” you prompted instead.
“You know that's not what I meant.”
You ignored him. “Anyway, you too don't look today like a hip-hop choreographer wanna be.”
That was true, he didn’t remind you of the sweaty Hoseok in grey sweatpants you were seeing every Friday and Saturday on the halls of Just Dance after blasting Spotify Global Top 50 for a whole hour.
This Hoseok who was sitting in front of you was wearing ripped jeans and leather jacket paired with ankle boots you wouldn’t mind buying for yourself in a smaller size. Daredevil, that was a good word to describe him. Dangerous, daring, and maybe d–yeah, dumbass, your brain suggested.  
Yet, one thing was still the same about him.
“What's with you and those t-shirts?’’ you blurted out before you could stop yourself.  
Hoseok snorted at that. ‘’I like the band, so I wear t-shirts with their name on. It's as simple as that, princess. But I don't expect you to understand since you probably don't know who Joy Division is.”
You placed your palm on your chest, more offended by his words that you would like to admit. ‘’Of course I know who Joy Division is. I'm ballerina, not stupid,” you scoffed. ‘’Love will tear us apart is their song, isn’t it? I’ve been through this edgy phase on Tumblr in 2015. I know what I’m taking about.”
Hoseok looked at you with raised eyebrows and there was something in his eyes you couldn’t put your finger on. Was it amusement? Curiosity?  
You didn’t have a lot of time to think about it though, because the waitress was back with your orders. Again starstrucked by Hoseok. Again smiling sweetly like kpop female idols on music shows.  
While she finally put your coffees on the table (she spent definitely too much time doing it) and walked away, you spoke once more.
“I don’t get it,” you said and Hoseok muttered “what?”, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ve never seen someone doing a choreography to Drake's song and be dressed like cliché rock band member the next day.”
Hoseok placed his cup down and looked at you with a smirk. “I have many faces you don't know about yet, princess.” he warned. Dangerous, daring, dumb–
“And when am I going to find out?” you countered.  
“If you keep going for a coffee with me after our practices, I might reveal more of myself to you. As long as you are going to do the same in return.”
At that, you raised your eyebrows. Hoseok's eyes were challenging, asking you to pick up the dare and get to know him more and more, slice him layer after layer. Your subconscious was telling you there was so much more than meets the eye about Jung Hoseok than his annoying retorts and edgy t-shirts. And you were there to witness all of it.
“Fine,” you finally agreed, eyes narrowed. “We can hang out after classes. Sometimes.”
Hoseok grinned. “Great. Now, let's start getting to know each other!”
You're eyes widened comically. “Woah, slow down, boy. You know my name, know that I teach ballet and that I like espresso. What else should I tell you on our first dat–meeting?” you corrected yourself quickly. Date was a sacred word. Definitely not reserved for a man like Jung Hoseok.
“Oh, please. I also know it's better not to get on your nerves,” he pointed out. Smartass. “Tell me about how all of this happened. How did you become a ballerina.” he suggested.
You took a big sip of your coffee.  “That's a quite long story,” you said languidly.
“I don't mind. We have time.”  
You stared at him for a moment. He looked slightly out of picture, sitting in a quiet coffee shop, drinking a cup of the sweetest drink you could ever think of, while wearing clothes that made him look like he belonged to shady bars, where he could be surrounded by sleazy people sipping on their scotch whiskeys. There should have been a cigarette caught between his lips and fumes of smoke swirling around his features, but there was solace and the smell of caramel. Jung Hoseok, with a picture of sunflowers behind his back looked like no one you had ever met before.
And this kind of enigma that was this boy inflamed a strange curiosity in you.
So you picked up a dare.  
“Well,” you began, “It all started when I was in kindergarten. You know how it is, when you are five years old and your parents want to divert their unfulfilled ambitions into you. You could say I was this type of kid, kinda. My mum was a ballerina when she was young, so was her mother, but when she got pregnant with me in very early stage of her relationship with dad, she had to stop her career and took care of me. Dad was constantly working, travelling here and there to gain as much money as he could for us,” you explained.
“Mum always told me that my grandparents weren’t quite fond of their relationship. Especially my mum's. You know, dad used to be some kind of a bad boy back then,” you chuckled, remembering the pictures mum showed you. Leather jackets, motorbikes and self made cigarettes. “Grandma constantly blamed him for ruining mum's dreams, for debauching her and then, I happened,” you paused to gulp a sip of your coffee and continued. “So yeah, my grandma never forgave dad. However, after years she had grown to tolerate him to the point she didn’t throttle him during Christmas.”
You smiled, thinking how your dad and grandma avoided any unnecessary conversations between them. It was all civil, good mornings and goodbyes spoke in casual tone, but the tension was so thick that any sudden impulse, like dad talking about old times after a few glasses of wine, could break everything they had built through years.
“It was actually my dad who took me to the ballet classes first. My mum never wanted me to follow her footsteps but dad somehow tried to, I don't know, redeem himself? He felt responsible for a long time and when I think about this now, he just wanted to make his daughter a next little ballerina so my grandma could be pleased.”
Suddenly Hoseok interrupted you. “But don't you think it's unfair your parents did that to you because your mum couldn’t, you know, continue her career anymore?” he asked and you were pleasantly surprised to see him intrigued by your little story.
You hummed, contemplating this for a second before you answered. “You’re right, maybe it is slightly unfair but I actually grown to love ballet while the years passed. And seeing my mum happily watching my performances is enough for me.” you said. Ballet was your whole life, it always had been, there was no point of denying it.
“What about your grandma then?”  
“She died a few years ago. But I think she was proud of me. She never told me that verbally though. She was pretty bad at expressing feelings, but I know she was proud. I saw it in her eyes after my first big étude.”
It was in middle school, back when you were living in your hometown. Your group was performing Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker and you got one of the leading roles. You never forgot the look in your grandma's eyes when she approached you after the performance.  
“And what now?” Hoseok asked and you looked up at him. “What are your plans for the next, few years?”
“Now, I still have a couple of years to double major from ballet dances and psychology. And what would come after, we will see. I have a big performance in January that will determine something really important for me. And as for the future-future, teaching kids ballet seems really nice.” You smiled lightly.
You didn’t like to talk about your big performance aloud, since you weren't quite sure of what future was going to bring. It determined if you would get into four-months-long international scholarship in Russia or not. Only one person could win this. And you were strong-willed to at least try. You dreamt about it your entire life. To finally dance on the stage of Bolszoy Theatre, maybe go on a whole tour around the world with their crew. But that was for now a matter of your own luck and abilities.
“Wow,” Hoseok mused. “You have this all planned out, princess.”
You rolled your eyes. “That's just a goal, not actual plans,” you grumbled sheepishly. “What about you? Are you really a hip-hop choreographer wanna be?’’ You giggled but stopped abruptly when you saw his expression seemed to have changed. Gone was cocky, grinning boy he was just minutes ago. Now in Hoseok's eyes was some kind of sadness and melancholy that wasn’t there before. It didn’t suit him. He was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.  
“No plans. I’m just living the moment.” he said matter-of-factly, like he was trying to play it the most casually he could. It was strange behavior.  
Maybe Hoseok was right. He did have a lot more hidden underneath the layers he put on everyday. He just didn’t want to show it. Not yet.
The atmosphere condensed between you. It was thick and heavy with strange tension. You tried to loosen up it a little. It was probably your personality trait your friend would directly connect with your zodiac sign. “So,” you chimed in, “for how long this waitress has been giving you heart eyes?”
Asking that was completely unplanned but you had to think about something quickly, offhand. Hoseok’s features brightened a little and you didn’t know if it was because the question was about the girl or because you were the one asking him it.  
Ironically, you hoped for the latter.
“Chaeyoung, you mean?”  
Oh, he knew her name. Interesting.  
You tightened your grip around the cup unconsciously. “Is there any other waitress here who has a crush on you?”
Hoseok smirked after hearing your snarky remark but chose not to answer that. “Actually I’ve never had more explicit conversation with her, unless it was about the coffee. Maybe I should try, what do you think? She seems nice.” His eyes wandered for a moment to the place where the waitress stood, talking to a customer.
You smiled but there was no true politeness in this. Why though, that was something to think about on another occasion. “Yeah, you should. Totally.” you gritted through clenched teeth.
“Yeah, totally.” Hoseok agreed, nodding.  
For a minute it was mute but then he glanced at your empty cups and a small smirk appeared on his face. “So, where are you taking me next?” he asked out of the blue.
You blinked. “What?”
“I treated you this week, your turn is next.”
‘’I’m not gonna buy you food, the fuck. You treated me as an apology! I don't-” You stopped your outburst when you saw him snickering at you. “Why the hell are you laughing?’’ you snapped. There was probably a blush on your cheeks and you cupped them briefly with your hands to cover it.  
“Because I was kidding. You don't have to buy me anything, I can pay for myself. Relax, princess.” Hoseok grinned. He didn’t seem to be as uneasy as before, so you scoffed at him. “But honestly, where are we going next weekend?” he asked, entirely serious.
“What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you?” you challenged.
He just sent you his signature, cocky grin. “Am I that bad company?” he teased.
“Decent. You’re decent company, Hoseok.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Don't be. That's just me trying to be civil.” you warned, pointing your index finger at him.
“Great, I’ll text you about it soon then, princess,” Hoseok announced simply, ignoring your surprised expression. He reached for the menu still lying on the table and opened it. “They serve good lemon tarts here, want some?” he proposed, going through the other positions briefly.
You furrowed your eyebrows, still processing what he had said earlier. “You don't have my phone number.”  
“I do, actually,” Hoseok mumbled and his lips twitched.
Your eyes narrowed into slits. “How did you get my number?”
“Soyeon. I asked her and she gave me.” Hoseok answered simply, shrugging his shoulders.  
A shocked gasp left your lips. “Soyeon, the receptionist? You swooned her over to get my number? She's married!” you exclaimed, staring at him in disbelief.  
Now it was Hoseok's turn to roll his eyes. “Not my fault she couldn't resist my smile and sweet words.”
You sighed heavily. He was really testing your patience.  
“Well, what about those lemon tarts?”  
You tossed your head back, groaning in frustration that was probably heard by every single person passing by the coffee shop on this September afternoon.  
However, you missed the way Hoseok's lips stretched out in a warm, sincere smile.  
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You did end up having those lemon tarts that day.  
You couldn’t explain why or how, but in some way coffee meetings after dance lessons on Saturdays were no more just them. They turned into late dinners on Fridays and random text messages when you were bored during your lectures, which most times were eventually escalalting to Hoseok sending you tiktoks and memes you had saw million times before yet you laughed at them anyway.  
It was a start of promising friendship, someone could say. Unexpected, with not so smooth beginning but blossoming into something much more than simple hanging out in your free time. But none of you seemed to notice it, not yet.
Before you could even blink, summer was officially over and fall started to make her way into the weather. Warm cups of coffee started to feel more and more reasonable with each passing day and one time you found yourself holding one while visiting Hoseok at his work.
It was Wednesday, you didn’t have any classes at uni that day and he texted you if you could come to the address he had sent. And you did, ignoring the cold wind and forgetting about the warmth between your sheets you had to leave. Which had been surprising even for you; a sacrifice for someone like Jung Hoseok, but again, you weren’t categorizing it like that yet.
That’s how you found out about Hoseok's other job. He worked at the Suga's Record Shop, where, as he had described it: you could buy legendary pieces of music while listening to another million dollar hits. He’d said he took the position at Just Dance because the actual interest in buying vinyls unfortunately wasn't increasing, so the guy who owned the shop, Min Yoongi was his name, had decided to reduce Hoseok's salary.
The shop looked like pulled out straight from 80s movies, with tons of records of probably every single artist you could think of. There wasn’t anyone beside you inside, so Hoseok walked you around, picking up different albums,  classics, as he had said and showing them to you. He kept talking about them with true admiration written on his features, babbling about how Joey Ramone and his band invented punk rock and you found yourself watching him with amusement glittering in your eyes.
Days, weeks passed and it was already October approaching, turning green parks into wide range of colors that could only be described as autumnal.  
You kept discovering more and more similarities between you and Hoseok than you would like to admit. One of them being your laicsm when it came to manga and anime. The solidarity was made one Friday after practices, when you both agreed on not understanding the hype after seeing some poster hanging out randomly on the street.
Music taste however, was another cup of tea. It was something Hoseok took his pride in, that was why he kept sending you various tracks encouraging you to listen to some good stuff until one day, with raised eyebrows, he learnt how wrong his previous assumptions about you had been.
“Oh my God, my song!’’ you exclaimed, when The Neighbourhood’s Softcore started playing while you were sitting at the Blue Side. It looked like the pink-haired waitress was absent, so were the latest k-pop tracks she constantly played in the coffee shop.
“You know them?’’ Hoseok asked, looking at you with bewilderment in his eyes.
You snorted at him. “Told you I had that edgy vibe in 2015 when everyone listened to Sweather Weather. The t-shirts are long gone but my love for Jesse Rutherford stays untouched.”
You started mouthing the lyrics but Hoseok interrupted you. “I thought you would be into some k-pop type of shit.”  
He received a roll of your eyes in return. “Hey, don't disrespect k-pop like that! There are nice songs out there, people just choose the worse ones usually and complain how trashy they are.” you said, pointing your index finger accusingly at him.  
Hoseok lifted his arms in defending pose. “Fine, fine, don’t cancel me. What about classical music then. Since you are dancing ballet and all,” he drawled.
“Do you want to know a secret?’’ You leaned over the table and whispered, earning a nod from Hoseok. “Most ballerinas know nothing about classical music unless they are pieces we use for our routines. Ask them about their favourite and the answers would probably be Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. I'm most ballerinas.”
There was a moment of silence before you both erupted into laughter.
For people looking at you from the distance, laughing together until tears formed in your eyes, teasing and throwing playful snorts, you might have looked like you had known each other for years.
Something was ending, leaves were falling off the trees and sun hid behind the greish clouds but in the warm embrace of a small coffee shop two people found themselves in a hold of affection they couldn’t escape, no matter how hard they tried.
Because love sometimes comes into people’s lifes unannounced, tearing apart their souls and making them vulnerable for others’ healing touch.
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It was late evening on Friday, when you were sitting at your favourite ramen place, bonding over food like it was the most natural thing to do, talk between next chews, bites and occasional slurps of Hoseok's mouth.  
Miss Lee's ramen was cheap, not fatty and what was the most important – not popular among other residents of your neighborhood, so not many people decided to show up that evening as well. That became the reason why you had suggested meeting there with Hoseok after your lessons.
You were in the middle of playing 100 questions game, a new found way of getting to know each other better. It was completely Hoseok's idea because he seemed to be the most eager man to learn more about you that you had ever met in your entire history of dating which, sadly, wasn't impressive.  
Last time someone asked you so many questions, you were doing personality tests on Buzzfeed.
Now it was your turn to ask something and after discovering that Hoseok poured milk before the cereal, liked green the most from all colors and was scared of needles (that's probably why he didn’t have any piercings, you thought to yourself) you decided you were really bad at this game.
But then, you recalled the interview you had recently watched with some k-pop group and after swallowing a generous amount of pasta, you aimed the target.
“What's your most prized possession?’’  
Hoseok, however, answered without a second thought. “My drums.”
Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at him in confusion. “Drums? Like the instrument?”
“No, like the cannisters.” he snorted sarcastically.  
“So you can play?” you continued, ignoring his witty retort.
“Yes, I do. I started learning when I was a kid. My dad owned a music shop. He was renovating old instruments from time to time and that's how I was gifted drums on my 10th birthday. The same ones I have till this day.”
You hummed. “So you’re hip-hop dancer slash drummer? And what, you play in a rock band too?” you laughed but stopped right away when you saw his serious expression. You gasped. “Oh my God. You do play in a band! And you didn’t tell me sooner?!” you exclaimed loudly. Young couple sitting few seats from you sent you deathly glares. You mouthed “Sorry!” and directed your attention to Hoseok again.
He simply shrugged his shoulders. “There wasn’t an opportunity before,” You shook your head in disbelief at that. “Told you I’ve got a lot more to reveal.” He smirked and fuck, you hoped the blush that covered your cheeks right now was from the spice noodles you had eaten.
So Jung Hoseok and his love for leather jackets and old bands wasn't unreasonable. You hated yourself for wanting to see him play, sweat covering his forehead and lips bitten in concentration. What a sight it could be. Truly mesmerizing.  
You had to stop your brain from wandering through such dangerous territories.
“So,” you started after clearing your thoughts, “Are there any other hot musicians in your band?” you asked, regretting your choice of words as soon as they left your lips. You wanted to slap yourself mentally.
“Did you just call me hot?”  
“In your dreams. Now tell me about your rock band,” you blurted out quickly and let out a shaky breath afterwards. That was very much close to a catastrophe.
Yet you didn’t miss the way Hoseok's lips lifted up in amusement, trying to hide the laughter blossoming in his throat. “We are actually a punk rock band. There’s four of us. Namjoon, electric guitarist and the leader who sticks us all together since 2016. Jimin, in charge of vocals and bass guitar, and the youngest member, Jungkook, vocalist and bass guitar player as well.”  
“How did you all meet then?’’  
You weren’t even hiding your curiosity at this point. You justified yourself by thinking it was your only chance to be as close to the real (punk) rock band member you would ever be.
“You probably won’t believe me, but we all met at the university. I was studying business for a year before I dropped out of it and that's how I met Namjoon, who’s been my roommate ever since,” Hoseok said. “I met Jungkook and Jimin through Namjoon. He introduced them to me saying they all took part in some underground concerts for amateurs and after that they started hanging out together. You might say it was a coincidence we all met like that but I don't believe it. I think we were meant to come across each other eventually, you know, to save punk rock together.” He laughed to himself after finishing his little story.
You smiled at him genuinely and there was no mockness in this, it was true sympathy and probably something else, not so easy to describe.  
You imagined four boys, with head full of dreams and hearts filled with raw passion, doing something the world didn’t believe in, but they had enough faith in themselves to prove everyone wrong.  
“So how’s the band called?” you asked.
“Punk’s Not Dead.” Hoseok responded, cheeks bright red with mortification.  
“Punk’s Not Dead,” you mused to yourself. “Sounds nice. Clever, I would say.”
“It's actually a name of the movie. It was Namjoon who made it up. He's the smartest from our group. After all he isn’t studying law without a reason.”
Your eyebrows lifted in interest. “A future lawyer playing in a punk rock band? I thought nothing is gonna surprise me after hearing you, hip-hop choreographer wanna be, are also a drummer. What about the others? Doctors? Stripteasers?”
Hoseok chukled lightly. “No, none of that. Jungkook and Jimin both work together as mechanics,” he answered, reaching for his now empty ramen bowl. You gaped as his calloused fingers adored with rings curled around the item, moving it to the side. Hoseok had pretty hands, you noticed. Hands of musician.
Sudden idea popped up in your head. “So when am I gonna hear you playing live?” you asked, smirking at him.
“Soon actually.”
“Soon?”
“Yeah, soon. We are having a gig next Saturday at Namjoon's brother bar. You should come.” Hoseok suggested.  
What kind of hollywood movie plot it was, you didn’t know, but you found yourself enjoying the main female protagonist's role probably too much.
“Next Saturday,” you mumbled to yourself, counting days in your head. Right, it was the day your best friend was coming back from Los Angeles and you had to pick her up from the airport.
You bit your lip. Ah, fuck it.  
“Fine. I’ll come,” you said. ‘’But can I bring my friend as a company?” you added and Hoseok smiled broadly.
“The more people, the better.”
It was a while after the concert when you learnt it wasn’t entirely a good idea but right now, with Jung Hoseok and his cocky grin he was flashing you, nothing else mattered.
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Incheon International Airport was a place utterly unfamiliar to you.  
Last time you had visted it, was when you had been in ripe age of ten, welcoming back your aunt Jia from her ‘life journey’ to Tibet.  
Aunt Jia was an extraordinary lady, she had proved it announcing the whole family her departure to Tibet for a six months long ‘detox’, nearly giving your mother heart attack when she had talked about bonding through the nature and finding her inner peace in a temple among Tibetan monks.
But it was years ago, now aunt Jia was older and her interest in buddhism was way more sustainable, limited to buying different Buddha figurines in art decor shops.  
So today, you were at the Incheon International Airport for the second time in your life, again welcoming, this time your best friend Hana from her almost two years long stay in United States.
You met three years ago, both freshly graduated from your high schools and starting a new, adult life in Seoul as roommates. You had become close friends pretty easily, sticking together through ups and downs of dealing with real life shit, as you used to call it.
Ballerina and soon to be actress, both too dramatic for this world but getting along just fine through a whole year, until one day Hana had announced over a bowl of cereal she had received an opportunity to go on an international scholarship in USA she had always dreamt about. A lifetime chance, one in a million, as she'd said. Learning acting from American professionalists, walking down the never ending sunshine streets of California. Something only outstanding people can experience.
That was how Hana had ended up in Los Angeles, the City of Stars and the world's factory of make-believe. Thousands of kilometers away from home. Today, she was going to step on her country's ground for the first time in two years since she had been gone and you were more than thrilled to see her again in person.
She hadn’t exactly told you why she was back, neither she had explained for how long or, what was the most important and disturbing: why this was happening all of a sudden. And something was telling you it was all too suspicious, a perfectly wrapped half-lie.  
Hana said someone from her old friends from acting school had told her that the National Theater was preparing to do Victor Hugo's Les Misérables and suggested she should try her luck with castings, since she had played the main role while being abroad. It sounded convincing though, how wouldn’t, she was a good actress after all.  
That was Hana’s version of events. How really was, you didn't know, not yet. But you were sure something about this whole situation was too strange to be true. And you were determined to find out exactly what.
It was late morning in Seoul, foggy and with definitely too much humidity in the air. You were standing in the arrivals hall holding a self-made sign, produced out of boredom and your true love for DIY Pinterest ideas. Besides your friend’s name, you had painted palm trees on it and added glitter that was still stuck to some parts of your bedroom floor. You probably looked ridiculous holding it in your hands but you didn’t care, shifting from left foot to right. Waiting.
When you were about to check the time, you saw people coming up in your direction with suitcases in their hands. And then, among a crowd of nameless passengers, you saw a familiar blonde pony-tail and black polka-dot suitcase that could only belong to one person.
You could feel the roll of your best friend's eyes before you actually saw it, Hana shaking her head and chuckling to herself because of the absurd sign you were holding.  
When Hana was approximately ten meters from you, you cleared your throat and half-yelled in flat english, “There she is! My California girl!”  
People around looked in your direction with both distaste and amusement but Hana only sighed, until breath was knocked out of her lungs from the sheer force of your hug.  
“Oh my God, I missed you so much!” you mumbled into the material of her grey coat.  
“We talked and face timed each other practically everyday,” Hana grumbled but deep down, even if she didn’t say it, she missed you too.
“That's not the same!” you protested. “Lemme look at you properly,” You pulled away from the hug, putting your hands on Hana's shoulders and eyeing her carefully. She looked skinnier than three years ago when you had met but that was a question for another occasion. Her skin, gingerly touched by Californian sun, made her look like she had just come back from holidays abroad. “You're definitely too tanned for October,” you pointed out, earning a chuckle from her.  
“Come on,” Hana said, tiredness clearly apparent in her voice. “Let's get away from here.”
Back in the Uber that was driving you to your place, the atmosphere seemed to shift. Unspoken questions were lying at the tip of your tongue and you wanted to let them out instantly but you knew better. No rush, one information at the time. So you started from the simplest one, or you just thought it was.  
“Did you tell your parents you're back?” you asked and Hana visibly grimaced after hearing it. Of course she didn’t, there was no point of lying.
“Not yet.”
“When are you going to tell them then?”  
There was a pause on the other side of the seat and followed by a heavy sigh, Hana responded. “They still think I’m in California because my scholarship physically ends in two months. I will visit them home as soon as I’ll settle down in Seoul again.”
Settle down? You furrowed your eyebrows. She was going to stay for good here?  
“So what are your next plans?’’ you wondered aloud.
“Go to that try-out in the theatre next week, see if my stay in America was actually worth something,” Hana chuckled dryly, almost bitterly. “I was also thinking about finding some part time job so I could afford a place on my own once I get back to acting regularly in theatre. I don’t want to overuse your kindness.”
“You're not using–” you started to protest but Hana cut you off.
“I am practically throwing myself at you because I don't have a place to live. But don't worry, that's not for a long time.” She smiled lightly and you reciprocated the gesture. Hana then turned her head to the window, looking out of it for a while as you passed the streets. She murmured something about the weather that you didn’t hear well because your thoughts were somewhere else.
You tried to digest all the revelations your friend had just told you. It looked like Hana wasn’t planning on coming back to Los Angeles any time soon or she wasn't going to do it at all, but that wasn’t the most puzzling issue about the whole situation. It was strange because she’d never said anything about staying abroad for longer, not even once, until she met him. That happened to be some kind of an anchor for her, a reason why she had started questioning openly her further life choices. Had something happened that she changed her mind completely?  
You caught in the corner of your eye the sight of Hana absentmindedly playing with the ring on her finger and you decided it was now or never, you had to ask her or you will never be able to muster up the courage.
“What about Taehyung?” It seemed out of the blue, vocalized so suddenly but deep down it wasn’t. And Hana knew that. Her fingers ever so slightly tightened around the ring and then pulled away. “Does he know you’re staying?”  
She didn't visibly flinched, didn’t scrunch her eyebrows or purse her lips, didn’t protest. Maybe it was because she had been taught how not to show any emotions, maybe it was because she didn’t want to show any emotions at all. Her face was blank when she spoke, eyes distant and thoughts probably far away from the small space of the car.
“Taehyung recently got a role in some new Netflix series. One of the main roles actually, so it's going to take him some time to finish recording.” she said, not answering the question and she was well aware of it. It was right there on the tip of her tongue but she hesitated. Maybe the realization was too much to handle for her.
“So he seems to enjoy his stay in America,” you trailed off, watching as Hana smiled lightly but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Yeah," she nodded. “He is.”
And that was enough of an answer for you.
You had been watching Hana falling for Taehyung for solid two years since she had left grey streets of Seoul to drown in Californian paradise. They met in acting school and got the scholarship together. The most divine, the most talented students the school had. Somehow over the thousands of kilometers of homesickness they started dating. And you were happy, you couldn’t be more glad seeing your beat friend chasing her dreams with a person who cared about her by her side. But the news about engagement few months ago had come as a shock to you, although you had not said anything. Hana's smile when she had showed you the ring had been enough to convince you of her happiness.
Right now, sitting by her side and listening to her talking about it so emotionless, so blankly, you were sure that in every single Hollywood fantasy there was a crack.  
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“So, here we are.”
After opening the doors to your apartment there was a slight pause, before you spoke again. “I know it's nothing special but for that price and in location so close to my uni I couldn’t find anything better. It's small but–”
“Can you please stop rumbling for a second?” Hana interrupted you abruptly. She was literally standing in the door with the suitcase still in her hand because you didn't let her in any further. “I told you it's okay. You allowed me to stay here even though there's barely enough space here for one person.”
“But still, the bathroom is like the smallest I have ever seen... Oh, and there's a soy sauce stain on the wall in kitchen because I still haven’t figure out how to remove it and–”  
The door banged loudly and you jumped from the sudden noise. 
“What the fuck! You know how easily I get scared!” you exclaimed, placing a hand on your chest, calming your rapidly beating heart.
Hana shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve had enough of your stupid complaining. Now, show me where will I sleep beacuse I feel like passing out any second now.” She placed her suitcase on the floor, taking off her coat and kicking off her boots.  
When you were living together as roommates, Hana was the one who organized the chores and yelled at you after making a mess and not cleaning up. She had been doing it as a matter of habit even during her absence.
“Sleep, yeah,” you muttered to yourself, shrugging off your coat as well. “Technically there’s no second bed here but you’re going to sleep here,” you explained, pointing out at the small sofa that was standing in a place you called ‘living room' just because it was connected directly to the kitchen. Beside the sofa, it consisted of the lamp and a tiny glass table where usually was a mess of your belongings but right now it was all cleaned and polished.  
Hana slumped down on the sofa, closing her eyes. “God, I missed that. There was some yelling kid on the plane and their parents couldn’t shut them up,” She sighed tiredly. “Now I can nap for the rest of the day. And night.”  
You bit your lip, looking at her slumped body. Today was Saturday, the day of Hoseok's band concert you had been invited to and you still didn't prepare your outfit or, what was the most important, for the whole week you hadn’t messaged Hana about the fact that she was, in fact, invited too. You felt guilty asking your freshly out of twelve hours long flight friend to come with you but you had no choice.  
“Hana,” you started and it already sounded pleading, not casual. She cracked one eye open. She knew when you had some buisness to her and it seemed like that now. “I know you’re tired, jet lagged and all but what would you say to a power six hours nap and going to a punk rock concert tonight with me?” you blurted out quickly.
Hana opened her eyes completely and now was looking at you dumbfounded expression on her face. “What?” she stammered out.
You moved to sit next to her on a sofa and took a deep breath. “So here's the thing. You know I work at the dance school now right?” you began and Hana nodded slowly. “I met a guy there. He teaches kids hip-hop. His name is Hoseok and he actually isn't only a dancer, he's also a drummer. And it might sound stupid but he plays in a band too,” you explained, avoiding her burning gaze you could feel on your skin. However, if you looked in her direction, you would see the soft smile adoring Hana's features. “We kinda started hanging out about a month ago and recently he invited me to his band's concert. And I really want to go but I thought you could accompany me cause I don't wanna be there alone all the time so, yeah.” you trailed off sheepishly.
There was a bit of silence and you were waiting for Hana to scold you but instead you received reaction you weren’t expecting at all.
“You’re dating some guy and you didn’t tell me?!” Hana bursted out. She had a mixture of disbelief and probably a little bit of betrayal written across her face.
You held your arms up in defending pose. “We aren’t dating!” you protested, scandalized someone could ever put words dating and Hoseok's name next to yours. “It's just some casual hanging out after work, just friends. Friends.” you repeated.
Hana rolled her eyes at that. She knew you better than you would like to admit but she decided not to tease you about it any further. “So, is he hot? He must be, he's a drummer after all and they are hot in theory,” She wiggled her eyebrows, nudging you with her elbow while you groaned in frustration.
“If that will make you happy, yes, he is good looking,” you sighed. There was a tiny bit of blush covering your cheeks. “But as I said, we’re just friends!” you emphasized the word again, looking at Hana intensely like you were trying to embed it in her brain so she wouldn't think something else.
“Will you go with me then? Please? I need emotional support.” you pouted. “Besides you owe me for letting you stay here.” you added and it might have been a little unfair move to maake but you didn’t care about that.
Hana sighed heavily, like she was really contemplating the decision even though she had made it a while ago, just to keep you in suspense for a little longer. She fought and urge to ask about said emotional support while Hoseok was only a friend and instead she nodded her head.  
“Fine, I’ll go,” she said, lifting her index finger before you could crash her body in a hug. “But I need to take this nap first.”
You grinned at her. “Thank you, thank you,” you kept mumbling, cuddling her body tightly against her protests.
“Now lemme wash and sleep.” Hana grumbled in annoyed tone but you knew she wasn’t mad at you at all. Deep down, even after layers of well trained, measured actions she had a good heart.  
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“Punk’s not dead? What kind of name for a band is this?”  
You were standing before the door to the bar, side by side, watching as different people, mainly young, were passing you and coming inside. Hana eyed the pink poster that said ‘Free entrance!’ with her arms crossed over chest.
“That's the name for the punk rock band.” you said with a glint of annoyance in your voice, not even sure why somehow affected by your friend's words. You liked the name, it wasn’t obvious and sounded catchy. For you at least.  
Hana snorted. “I hope they are worth my jet lagged self that I’m sacrificing here for you.” she sighed, averting her gaze from the poster hanging on the window and pushing the door inside.
The bar, Dionysus, was Namjoon's brother’s property, as Hoseok had explained to you. They played their mini concerts here since they had met, actually gaining money from this because the owner was letting them take some part of the earnings from alcohol buying. Also, there was always a small box on the bar counter where people could throw their money inside if they wanted to support the group directly.  
Inside, there was a respectable amount of people already standing before the stage where everything seemed to be set up, except for the actual band members that weren't present, apparently hiding at the ‘backstage’ until their main entrance. You spotted drums standing at the back of the stage and you suddenly felt not so sure of yourself.
“There's a whole stage here? Geez, they didn't come to play,” Hana wheezed to herself, taking in the surroundings. “Do you want to drink something first?” she whispered into your ear.
You glanced at your phone to check time before answering. “I don’t know. I kind of want to be by the stage when they start playing.”  
Hana nudged your side. “Relax, I will push my way through those girls in leather skirts for you. Come on, let's warm up a little.”  
You looked in the direction of the stage once again but eventually gave up, letting her drag you to the bar. Maybe the drink wasn’t a bad idea. You didn't quite know if you could survive the evening completely sober.
The tall, handsome looking bartender smiled at you cheekily when you sat with Hana by the bar.  
“What can I get for the lovely ladies?” he asked, eyeing you both misheviously.
“What do you recommend?” Hana leaned her head on the hand, smiling at the man as well.
“I could make you my absolute speciality: Aphrodite’s nectar.” the bartender suggested.
“Go on, surprise us.” Hana said, earning a confident smirk from the man before he turned around to make your drinks. She rolled her eyes, pulling a few bills from her purse and throwing them to the self made money box with ‘Thank you for the support – Punk's not dead’ caption.  
“I could pay for myself, you know,” you muttered under your breath but loud enough for Hana to hear.
“Shh, don't say anything and let me support your friend with a generous tip before the actual show. Hope they’re worth it.” Upon her words, the bartender handed you your drinks with “Here you go.” followed by the cocky grin.  
Hana frowned when she saw pinkish liqueur poured to the vodka-size glass. “Seriously? This is his speciality? Pink coloured vodka? Isn’t that supposed to be called sex on the beach?” she scoffed and drank the substance in one go, flinching after she swallowed. “I've had better.” she commented dryly.
You followed her actions, drinking up the alcohol as well. You coughed a few times before you asked, “Can we go now?” It sounded like a childlike pleading but you didn’t care.  
Hana nodded after exhaling loudly and you both made your way to the stage, like she had said earlier – pushing through the crowd of other people. There were shouts of swears and insults thrown at you from every side but Hana didn’t give a fuck, practically dragging you by your hand while you were muttering quick apologies to every single girl in leather skirt.
When you reached very front of the stage, Hana grinned at you. “See? Told you we’ll be in first row. God, I haven’t been to punk concert for a very long time.”
You furrowed your eyebrows. “You've been to a punk concert before?” you asked, confused with her words. Hana seemed to be taken aback by this question, like she just realised she had said something she hadn't indent to.
“Yeah. In high school. Like I said, long time ago.”  
“Why didn’t you–” you started but immadietly stopped, when the lights went out followed by the oooh! from gathered people. “Oh my God it's happening,” you half-whispered, clutching Hana's hand.
“Youjust referred to The Office without watching it.”
“Shut up!” you muttered, ignoring Hana's giggle.  
Next thing you knew, sharp lights shimmered and few, firsts accords of electric guitar resonated through the bar. You absentmindedly squeezed Hana's hand tighter. Then, more lights flashed, along with the thumbing sound of drums and the whole stage illuminated with bright, silver colors.  
You didn't even realise you were holding your breath the entire time. You eventually got back to your senses when one of the boys started singing an unknown to you song, probably self-written by them. His hair was pink and you recognized him as Jimin, remembering the photo Hoseok had sent you where he had captioned everyone. Jimin was leaning towards the micstand lazily, like he was purposely doing it this way. His guitar was dropped on his back nonchalantly.
Next was Jungkook, the youngest in the group. His mop of black hair was nodding along to the rhythm of the music, his eyes and attention solemnly focused on his guitar. He didn’t wear any jacket and his muscles on ink-covered arms flexed with his every move.
On the other side of the stage stood Namjoon, the one who Hoseok lived with and referred as the leader of the group. He also had some tattoos on his forearms but not as many as Jungkook. He smiled lightly at the crowd when someone shouted his name, showing the tiniest of dimples on his cheeks.
And there it was the last member. Hoseok.  
Your breath hitched in your throat. You had seen him dancing a few times before in Just Dance, ever so passionate but this was different kind of passion. He was fierce, completely devoted to what he was playing, hitting the notes like his life depended on it. He didn’t had any tattoos adoring his skin and his ears weren’t pierced like his friends' but he had an exeptional energy in him, power that he emphasized with every move, every tap of his drumsticks. For you, he was the most divine of them all, the brightest spot on the stage. A born performer, flesh and bones.
The song was catchy, something quite similar to the ones Hoseok had sent you after many ‘pretty pleases' from you. Jimin and Jungkook's voices were blending together just fine and you found yourself bopping to the rhythm of the music until you felt Hana's hand on your shoulder. You turned around in her direction with a smile that quickly disappeared when you saw her expression. She looked like she had just seen a ghost. Even in the dimmed lighting you could distingiush she was paler than before.  
She leaned towards your ear and half-yelled, trying to outshot the crowd, “I need to get some fresh. I don't feel well.”
You looked at her with worriedly. “I'll go with you,” you declared but Hana stopped you.  
“No, stay here,” she protested firmly. “Enjoy the show. I'll wait for you outside until it's over.”
“You sure?” you asked, earning a nodd from her along with a light smile that didn’t look much convincing but before you could say anything else, Hana was making her way through sweaty, bouncing bodies again. You watched anxiously as her blonde hair disappeared between the mass of nameless people and then, the song was over. You released a long breath and glanced at the stage.
Namjoon took the mic and tapped on it a few times. “Ehm, hi. We're Punk's not dead, as you know probably,” he chuckled lightly, making you smile, despite the uneasy feeling in your chest about Hana. “I'm Namjoon and I’m the leader of the group. I thought it could be nice if I introduce everyone before we start so... here we go. On the left, there's Jimin,” He pointed at the pink-haired man and audience, mainly female attendants, cheered loudly. Jimin smirked lopsidedly.  
Namjoon continued, “Next there's Jungkook,” The youngest lifted his head and smiled boyishly in bunny-like manner, scrunching his nose in process. He looked familiar, you thought to yourself. Strange.  
“And, our amazing drummer: Hoseok!” Namjoon presented and you screamed upon hearing Hoseok's name before you could realise what on Earth you were doing. Hoseok stood up from his seat and grinned broadly, waving to the crowd. Then, miraculously, his eyes landed on you and if that was even possible, his smile visible widened. You thanked whatever gods that existed he couldn’t see the way your cheeks flushed.
“Thank you for coming here today. I hope you'll have a great time,” Namjoon said. “And now, we are going to play our new song called Cigarettes after sex*, written and self-composed by Jimin. Enjoy.” he finished, nodding to his friends.  
The song was beautiful, it carried the lash of melancholy and sadness behind every single word that Jimin sang and he visibly felt it too, making it seem even more real by the sheer emotions of heartache written on his beautiful features.
They played a few more songs after that one, some of them were covers of the bands you were familiar with thanks to Hoseok and his signature t-shirts. Before you could blink an eye, it was over and Namjoon was thanking everyone one more time for coming and then they disappeared behind the black curtains after receiving a loud applause for their performance.
You stayed like that for a while, still basking in aftermath of everything that had just happened, humming to yourself some melody from one of the songs you had heard tonight. You turned your back to the stage, watching other people leaving the bar. Lost in your own world, you definitely didn’t hear footsteps behind you.
“Did you enjoy your time, princess?”  
You jumped in your place, twirling to the direction of the voice you knew so damn well. Hoseok was smirking at you while crouching down on the stage. His friends were also there, behind him, packing their stuff.  
When you calmed down your breathing enough, you shouted, “What the fuck, Hoseok?! I told you to not do things like that to me!”
He only chuckled in response, smiling cockily at the furious flush on your cheeks. “I asked you a question,” he reminded.
What was it? Ah, right, he asked about the concert. You pursued lips, crossing your arms over chest. You wanted to say it was showstopping, spectacular and all those adjectives Lady Gaga had used in that famous meme video of hers but you didn’t.  
“It was decent.”  
A smirk appeared on Hoseok's face. “Decent, huh? Wouldn't say so, after seeing you cheering so loudly in first row,” he teased. ‘’I'm flattered. I’ve never had such devoted fan of myself.”
He thought that pink blush which colored your cheeks was cute. Fuck, you were cute, trying to cover your embarrassment with an unamused expression.  
“I cheered for your friends, you know? Not you.” you mocked but it was pointless, he was already standing up from his position, knowing what was the truth.
“Come on, let's go to the backstage,” He made quotation mark on the word backstage while saying it. You grimaced. “There’s nice after party setting up there,” he tried again, this time pouting slightly and you eventually gave up. You had promised you would come, after all. Hoseok grinned when you followed his footsteps, walking to the supply base at the back of the bar.
“Jungkookie!" Hoseok shouted before he twisted the knob, whirling around for a quick moment. Jungkook lifted his head up in Hoseok's direction. “Don't forget to close the door when you finish packing!”  
The youngest member nodded, going back to his previous work.
Beside you and Hoseok's bandmates, inside the ‘backstage’ was the same handsome bartender from earlier, Namjoon's brother as you assumed, and a woman with dark, shoulder-length hair that stood next to Namjoon, leaning into his body. He had his arms wrapped around her, talking to his brother about something. She introduced herself as Minhee, Namjoon's girlfriend, extending her hand to you in friendly gesture when you approached them with Hoseok.
“Oh, we met before, by the bar. I’m Seokjin, the owner of this lovely place.” Namjoon's brother, Seokiin, said, shaking your hand.
“Hyung, you can't give it a miss, can you,” Namjoon grumbled behind his back but Seokjin ignored him. That wasn’t probably the first time he flexed about owning a bar, you thought to yourself.
“How did you like the concert, darling?” Seokjin asked you suddenly.
You rushed to reply. “Oh, it was really nice! I’ve never been to anything like that before but I enjoyed it very much.” you responded. Hoseok muttered something about you being a liar under his breath but you acted like you didn’t hear him. “I really liked the second song, the slow one.” you added, averting your gaze to Jimin who was sitting with his head bowed down in front of the vodka bottle.
Seokjin patted him on the shoulder. “Yah, did you hear that Jimin-ah? You’ve got a fan of your sad songs here!” he said, breaking into laughter but Namjoon stopped him by sending his brother a warning look. Jimin though barely even acknowledged his or your words, lifting his head up for a brief moment and eyeing your figure without any emotion on his face. Then he got back to the glass of alcohol again, pouring the substance into his mouth in one go.
“He broke up with his girlfriend like six months ago or something and still hasn’t quite move on,” Hoseok whispered into your ear. You let out an “Oh,”, sending one last apologetic smile to Jimin, even though he wasn’t looking at you at all.
Hoseok motioned you to sit by the table with others and you positioned yourself between Namjoon's girlfriend and Hoseok. The only absent person seemed to be Jungkook who was probably still fumbling with packing their stuff.
The conversation was oscillating around the concert. Hoseok mentioned that the audience had been much bigger than the last time and Namjoon kept babbling about some technical issue with his guitar that you couldn’t understand.
“Don't worry. I've been with him for three years and I still know shit about what he's talking about too," Minhee  said to you, probably after seeing your clueless expression. You both bursted out into laughter.  
You were supposed to ask her how had she and Namjoon had met but Seokjin interrupted you, walking in with a bottle of champagne.
“Where the hell is this kid Jungkook?” he grumbled. Hoseok quickly explained he was packing their stuff on stage when he last had seen him. Seokjin hummed and placed the bottle on the table. “And what about your blonde friend, darling?” he directed next question to you.
You froze in place.
Holy shit. You completely forgot about Hana.
You didn’t respond to Seokjin, so he assumed you hadn’t heard him and went back to opening the champagne bottle.
You pulled out your phone from the pursue and cried out in mortification after seeing the messages.  
[22:11pm] Hana: I was at mcdonalds across the street lol im heading to the bar now
[22:11pm] Hana: come up for me please  
[22:15pm] Hana: ???
10 minutes ago.
“Fuck!” you muttered under your breath, frantically typing a response.  
“Is everything ok?” Hoseok asked, his voice laced with concern.
You shook your head. “I forgot to come up for my friend after the concert. She wasn’t feeling well so she left and stayed outside.” you hastily explained, already standing up from your seat, clutching your phone in hand. Hoseok followed after you.
You pushed the door open, although the sight you saw behind them wasn’t anything you could ever expected. The surprised words escaped Hoseok's and your mouth simultaneously.
“Hana?”
“Jungkook?”
They stood facing each other, looking like they were interrupted by you mid conversation, probably in too close proximity for people supposed to be strangers. Hana's astonished face leaned out from behind Jungkook's tall body in the direction of the voices. Slowly, like she didn’t expect to be caught this way. And that was weird, beacuse she looked like she didn’t want to be seen in Jungkook's presence by the others, like their close proximity was something that shouldn't have been acknowledged.  
Jungkook turned around as well, however ever so recultanty. And then, when you saw his face clearly now, jet-black hair and inked arms, it all crashed you like a wave. That was why he seemed to look so familiar. You knew him, maybe not personally, but you knew who he was. The boy from Hana's photograph she had pinned to her cork board when you had been living together. A beach with crystal blue sea behid their backs, the same boy yet with less tattoos than now, carrying your friend on his back, both grinning to the camera like it had been the happiest moment of their lives. Until one day Hana was gone and so was the photograph.  
You felt like you were interrupting something too intimate for you to step in with your shoes like that. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but Hoseok helped you out instead. And you thanked him for that mentally because you weren’t sure of your mouth anymore.
“Looks like your friend is safe and sound.”
Hana snapped out of her previous shocked haze upon hearing his words and automatically composured herself. She took a few meassured steps away from Jungkook. Gone was the slight shock on her face, she was back to her calmed persona. “Yeah, I'm all good. I was about to text you I’m going home.” she said, her words directed to you. She then exchanged quick glances with Jungkook, glances that could look the simplest from other people’s perspective but not for you.  
Hoseok though, fortunately, didn’t seem to feel something was apparently off here. It was for the better he thought like that. “So you won't stay to celebrate with us?” he asked Hana.  
Jungkook’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. He was still standing there, unsure of what to do
Hana shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m still tired and jet-lagged from my flight so I will just wish you great time and go.”
“You sure? I can go with you too, if you want,” you suggested after containing yourself enough to finally vocalize some thoughts. But Hana only smiled at you. Forcefully, which didn’t miss your attention.  
“It's okay. I want you to have fun. I already called a cab for myself anyway” she reassured.
Hoseok protested. “Someone could drive you home. I’m sure Jungkook wouldn't mind–”
“It's fine, really.” Hana said firmly and you knew by the clench of her fists she was slowly losing her patience. At the same time, Jungkook's eyes flickered ever so slightly after hearing his hyung's words and then went back to his previous unreadable stare.  
Seeing Hoseok opened his mouth to protest, you took his wrist, hoping he would take the hint and not add anything more.  
“I must really go now. Take care of Y/N and have fun.” Hana smiled politely, looking at Hoseok and he reciprocated the gesture. She didn’t really acknowledge Jungkook at all, even though he had somehow his gaze fixated on her the whole time. But Hana did that all pursposelly, so Hoseok couldn’t suspect anything. She wasn’t stupid after all. Well crafted actress knew how to act.
She came up to you, hugging you briefly. “We'll talk tomorrow.” she whispered into your ear because she knew that you couldn’t be fooled so easily, that you felt something was not right from the very beginning since she had announced her comeback from the States.
Hana waved one last time to you, exiting the bar. You could swear Jungkook's eyes lingered on her figure a little too long to be considered unbothered, until he turned around and went back to the stage. You prayed Hoseok wasn’t going to ask him what had he been talking about with Hana or why did he even decide to approach her like that.
“Come on. Let's go back. Jungkookie will close the door.” Hoseok said instead.  
You listened, letting him take your wrist and walk to the supply base for the second time tonight. You wondered for a moment if Jungkook was going to chase after Hana, but you shook your mind from those thoughts. It wasn’t your life to make decisions and judge them.
A little while after you sat on your seat again, Jungkook came back as well and you somehow felt the rush of relief swimming through your whole body. He slumped down next to Jimin on the couch and said something to him you couldn't make out exactly, but pink-haired man laughed bitterly at that, filling his best friend's glass to the brim.
Next two hours you spent there passed like a blurr. You kept talking with Namjoon's girlfriend practically the whole time. You found out Minhee was studying medicine and she had met Namjoon through some discussion club she had joined in her freshman year. It had been attraction from the first disagreement, as she described it cheekily.
When Namjoon called for Minhee to talk about something on the side, you averted your attention to Hoseok who was sitting in front of his empty glass and scrolling through the phone, clearly  discontent with you intentionally avoiding his attempts to tease you about something you had said, or avoiding him in general.
“Aren't you drinking anything?” you asked him with raised eyebrows.
Hoseok snorted. “Someone has to drive you home, princess.”
“Bullshit. I can take the cab.”
“Well then, I don’t feel like drinking anyway.”
You eyed him carefully and then it hit you. “Oh my God,” you blurted out, trying to stifle the giggles blubbering in your throat. “You are not drinking because you are a lightweight!” you accused, not even hiding your amusement now.  
“That's not true,” Hoseok grumbled but his red ears gave him away. He was a bad liar.  
You pushed his chest with your index finger. “Admit it!”  
Hoseok looked at the ceiling and sighed heavily. “Fine, I am. And what about it?” 
You giggled. It was probably some champagne mixed with wine you had drank with Minhee speaking through you but you didn’t falter when you said, “Nothing at all. That's cute.”
Hoseok frowned. “Cute?”  
“Yeah, cute. You're cute when you're flustered.”
Hoseok parted his lips in both disbelief and annoyance because relatively speaking, you took it out from his mouth. It was his remark, for God's sake, he was the one supposed to say things like that to you. He hadn't drunk even a drop except one, symbolic glass of champagne yet he wanted to argue with you about it like five years old child. Because if anything, you were prettier and yes, cuter than him, and he had a sudden urge to spell it out for you.  
Yet he faltered for a moment after hearing abrupt glass crashing from the other corner of the room. You looked in that direction too, seeing half-conscious Jimin slumped down on the couch, Jungkook sitting next to him and saying things to him you didn’t hear. You could make out only “hyung” and “please, calm down” falling from younger's mouth.  
Jimin seemed like he had no idea about what was going on around him. When he opened his eyes for a moment they were bloodshot and glassy, probably from too much alcohol he had drank before, or maybe even from something else entirely. Then he murmured something to Jungkook and black-haired boy sighed, standing up from his position and approaching Namjoon and Minhee furiously talking about something in the far corner of the room.  
“Here we go again,” Hoseok breathed next to you and you scrunched your eyebrows, focusing your attention on the scene in front of you.
“Hyung, please–”
“No, Jungkook. We can't do that again.”  
“Please, I swear it's the last time. He won't let me take him home unless it's with her,” Jungkook pleaded. “It'll worsen anytime soon. I don't want to see him like this."
Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you think I don't know that Jungkook?! Last time was supposed to be last. And now it's happening again. We can’t continue it like this,” he said, looking in Jimin's direction where Seokjin was trying now to convince him to let go of the half empty vodka bottle Jimin was clutching tightly to his chest.  
“Hyung...”
“Stop arguing. I already texted her like 20 minutes ago when I heard he started talking about her again. She's on her way,” Minhee interrupted. “But this has to end. He–they can’t live like that.” she said and Jungkook breathed out heavily with relief, thanking her over and over.
Hoseok hummed next to you, making you jump slightly on your seat from the sudden sound so close in your proximity. “What's happening?” you asked him and he let out a long sigh.
“I don't think you want to see that. I should take you home.”
But before you could answer, someone banged loudly on the back door. Seokjin moved from his seat and opened them, letting inside a girl around your age, dressed in all black. Her hair was dyed in red and she didn’t have any make up on, assuming by the ungodly hour she might have been woken up or she hadn't gone to bed at all.  
“Who’s that?” you whispered to Hoseok’s ear.
“That's Nari,” he answered simply, like her name was carrying all the needed information without giving into other details. “Jimin's ex girlfriend and probably the only source of light in his life.”
Nari moved automatically, like it definitely wasn’t the first time she was in similar situation. She crunched down on the floor in front of Jimin's slumped body and touched his thigh lightly, murmuring his name. Jimin's eyes snapped open at that and he blinked a few times, focusing on the sight before him, like he couldn't actually believe she was there, with him, like his head was messing with him and betraying the bloodshot eyes.
“Nari,” he muttered and it sounded unsure, pained. “You're here. You came.”
“Yes, I’m here.” she replied with a soft smile, standing up to sit next to him on the couch.  
Jimin's hands reached for her, cupping her face in his shaky palms, thumbs stroking rosy cheeks, checking if she was really here, flesh and blood. “You dyed your hair,” he said softly with croaked voice, putting a strand behind her ear. “You look beautiful.”  
It all felt too intimate for you, like you were stepping into a scene you weren’t suppose to be in. You quickly averted your gaze somewhere else. In the corner of your eye you spotted Jungkook looking at what was happening in front of him with blank expression. He had seen it probably many times before, after all. Suddenly, strangled sobs echoed through the room and everyone involuntarily snapped their heads into direction of it.  
Nari was hugging Jimin's shaking body, rocking him back and forth as he cried out words into the material of her jacket.  
“Please, don't leave me.”  
“I won't. I’m here. It's okay,” she kept murmuring to his ear until his breath slowed down enough so she could say, “Let's go home.”
She motioned for Jungkook and he obliged, helping her lift Jimin's limp body from the couch like he weighted nothing. They left without a word, just like that, and heavy silence fell in the room. No one was in right mood to continue celebrating, not after everything that they had just witnessed.
Namjoon was the first one to break the silence. “We will be going. It's been a long day.” he said, placing his hand on Minhee's waist.  
“Indeed.” Seokjin agreed. “I’m gonna go upstairs to my place too. I’ll clean up in the morning.”
Hoseok also stood up from his seat, putting his palm on your shoulder. “Come on. It's time for us too.”  
You nodded, rushing to bid everyone goodbyes.
Outside, in the middle of the night, where all the demons had left humans bodies making them vulnerable for the bracketing world, you took Hoseok's hand in yours. It was warm, despite the coldness of the air.  
“What would you say if we took a walk by the river? I need to clear my mind.”
The puffs of air around your face when you spoke were telling you it was a bad idea, but Hoseok smiled in response.
“I’ll lead the way.”  
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Long walks by the river were meant for warm summer nights when sun set lately and rose in the very morning before you could blink an eye open. They were meant for the steamy nights, when people didn’t have to worry about the coldness, when they could wander under the starry sky with bare shoulders and heavy eyelids.
October absolutely wasn’t reasonable time for the walks in the middle of the night but this time he weather was kind, merciful. There was no sight of the frost and even though it wasn’t the most pleasant aura, even though hands had to be tucked deep in pockets of the jackets, everything could be bearable.  
Maybe somehow, when you reached that point in your life, circumstances stopped being the most crucial, as long as you were with the right person.
Boulevards by the Han River were common spot for the citizens and tourists but not in this time of the year, not when fall was threatening everyone as a trailer of the winter. Colorful lights illuminating themselves on the surface of the water were always the same, no matter which part of the year it was; always mesmerizing, always spectacular even for the people seeing them every single day.  
This night however, they seemed to shine not as bright as the stars.
“I feel bad for Jimin and this girl,” you said, breathing out the puffs of air in the process. It had been silent between you and Hoseok since you had left the disaster of a party until this very moment, when you finally gathered up enough courage and inhaled cold air to clear your mind and vocalize your thoughts. “Do you know why did they break up?” you asked Hoseok.  
“I don't know the details, just overall,” he answered, keeping his gaze ahead of him. “The only person who knows the truth is probably Jungkook but he had never told us anything.”  
You hummed, digging your fists into the pocket of your jacket deeper.  
Hoseok continued after a while. “I didn’t lie when I said she was the only source of light for Jimin. Beside her and music, he has nothing to cling onto in his life. There's no Jimin without music. Always has been.”
The images from the previous hours shimmered behind your eyelids. Jimin onstage, feeling himself, singing like he wanted to burn his throat dry, playing the guitar like he wished his fingers grated on the strings. A fierce passion in his eyes, as if he wasn't doing it out of the habit; losing himself in the drumming rhythm because that was his only ability. Then you saw the energy slowly draining away from his body, you saw a broken man, vulnerable to the world he had never had any intention to care about, now caring about him.
You wondered about the others. Was music their one true love and burden?
“What about your friends then? Is music really that important for them too?”  
Hoseok thought about an answer for a little while until he decided to respond. “Jungkook grew up with Jimin in the same hometown. Childhood friends, always sticking together through ups and downs, younger doing exactly the same after the older. Jimin always took care of Jungkook and now Jungkook is watching by Jimin.”  
You let your mind wander for a moment to Hana. How did she meet Jungkook? There was no doubt they knew each other before she had become your roommate. Did she know Jimin too, if they were raised in the same town? Another couple of questions you were yet to ask but this could wait for now.  
“The band and music it's their whole life. They aren't like Namjoon, level-headed with actual plans after he finishes his law studies. Music is just a hobby he's going to put off once he's out of uni.” Hoseok added and there was some sadness about the way he did it, like they were another words at the tip of his tongue he wouldn't dare to say aloud because when unspoken, they hurt less.
“And you?”  
Hoseok raised his eyebrows. “Me?”  
“Yeah, you. Who am I talking to?” you sassed lightly. “How do you see yourself in three years from now?” you asked and Hoseok chuckled the same way he did when you questioned him about it a month ago in Blue Side. Bitterly.
You motioned for him to sit on one of the benches standing by the boulevards.
“Do you have everything planned for the next three years?” Hoseok countered instead of actually answering you. He waited for you to roll your eyes but you did the exact opposite.
“Well, my mum always tells me that it's good to set up your goals. Even though sometimes you might disappoint yourself when they turn out all wrong.”  
Hoseok chuckled. “There's a ballerina speaking through you, princess. And motivational speaker, too.”  
“Maybe, but that's not my point,” you fired back, twirling around on the bench so you could sit cross-legged in front of him. “So, Jung Hoseok, hip-hop choreographer wanna be and passionate drummer, will you tell me what are your plans for the future?” you asked again. When you saw him hesitate, you added, ‘”Come on, pretend it's like our 100 questions game. I asked you a question and you shall answer.”
Hoseok sighed heavily. “I think I told you once that I just live the moment,”  
“But everyone has some dreams,” you complained. Go on, tell me something boy, are you happy in this modern world,” you sing-songed, breaking into loud laughter in the process that made him chuckle shortly.
Hoseok stared for a few seconds blankly into the calm surface of the river before him, watching as colorful lights changed from blue to green. Sadness blending into hope. He took a deep breath before he spoke.  
“Remember when I told you I had moved to Seoul to attend dance school there?” You nodded. “And how I told my parents I was going to study business really hard so they could allow me to learn dancing?” Another nod. “Well, my parents were never quite fond of my passions. First it was drums but they knew from the beginning I treated it more like a hobby than a future career, so they let me do it. Then dancing came. I found something I really wanted to pursue in my life and they, how to put this, never quite accepted my choice.” he said, looking at his hands folded on his lap.  
You had never seen him more uneasy, the smiling Hoseok who teased you and and spoke about music with glint in his eyes was long gone and you didn't like this version of him at all.  
“You know, I’ve got an older sister. She was-is the apple of my parents eyes. The better child, the best daughter they could ever imagine. She studied abroad, speaks English and Japanese, has a well paid job that makes her afford a nice apartment in Seoul on her own. They wanted me to be like her too, but I guess I never came up to their expectations.” The words he never willed to tell, slipped from his mouth just like that, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.
There was a sadness coming from his voice and you found yourself wishing you could swipe it off his face because it didn’t suit him, because gone was Hoseok that made you laugh and played his drums like his life depended on it. Hoseok who conveyed his fierce passion for dancing to the kids he was teaching. All the layers he was putting on every day were slowly slipping off him.
And in that moment you thought how unfair this world was. Your parents gave you wings to fly, to make your dreams come true but his parents were trying to cut them off his whole life.
“I went to the university so I could finally please them, so they would say: ‘Hoseok-ah, we’re so proud of you!’ but I eventually realised it's not for me. That I can't live like this. I met Namjoon, then the rest of the boys. We made a team and I've never felt more free,” Hoseok confessed and for the first time this night, he looked you in the eyes honestly, deeply. “So if you asked me, what's my dream, I would say I just want to be happy. I’ve never wanted to be the best. I just wish I was doing what I love the most, dancing and music.”
You opened your mouth to say something but he raised his hand, stopping you. “If you want to pity me, don’t. I don’t need this.” he said, but it was your turn to shake your head.  
“No, I want to say something,” you firmly protested. You lifted your index finger up, pointing at the blackboard sky. There was determination in your voice, a need to convince this boy he was worth much more than he thought. “See those stars? There are literally millions of them on the sky, looking exactly the same from our perspective yet we all admire them. And I’ll tell you more. Every single one is different, special on its own terms,” you said, all the time beating the air with your hands. You ignored the way Hoseok stared at you with raised eyebrows and continued, “Now think about the sun. Yes, it is the biggest star, giant thing and the centre of our solar system but it’ll burn your eyes if you look at it for too long. Those significant stars won't do it and we all wish our dreams to come true while looking at them falling, not at the sun.”
A small smile appeared on Hoseok's face and you reciprocated that, sighing softly. “What I’m trying to say is that you don't have to be the greatest to be admired and respected. You are your own star.” you trailed off, almost whispering the last words like you were afraid of vocalizing them.
You were staring into each other eyes for a whole minute, before you got insecure and looked away with flushed cheeks. “I'm sorry. That was my probably still a little drunk self speaking, don’t mind me. Hana would say it is also my zodiac sign's personality trait.” You put your hands on your cheeks, finding them warm from embarrassment despite the coldness of the night.
If you glanced in Hoseok's direction, you would see him grinning broadly. Who was this girl, he had no idea. He just felt she was going to be someone special for him. His own green flashlight illuminating on the clear surface of the water.  
“No, it's okay. I really appreciate that. Thank you.” he said, making you hesitantly turned to face him with raised eyebrows.  
“You're welcome. I guess.”
“So,” Hoseok drawled, pointing his chin at you and then on the sky. “How do stars align tonight for Aquariuses?” he asked out of the blue. You thanked it was the middle of the night, so he couldn’t witness the way you furiously blushed.  
“Why don't you look for yourself?” you whispered, staring up at the dark, starry sky.
But why would he look at the stars, if for him all of them hid in your eyes?  
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At some point, next weeks turned into a blurr while gloomy November was approaching, blending everything into grey reality. Life seemed to move on its own and it could be thought that things went back to normal again but deep down, behind set up facades, there was so much more left unspoken than revealed, lying bare and exposed on the table.  
You balanced your life between classes at the university, ballet rehearsals after hours and doing your part time job on weekends. With the midterm exams getting closer and closer, you somehow still managed to find time to hang out with Hoseok.  
It was weird for you, to spend so much of your free time drinking coffees at Blue Side, eating ramen after practices on Fridays or just listening to him babbling about some other hilarious story involving him and his friends as you walked together to the underground station, with your hand in his under the umbrella, referencing to Rihanna's song probably too many times than necessary.  
And normally, looking at you from afar and up close, seeing the intimacy you shared in your stares and muffled laughters, someone could swear you were already dating, that this hanging out carried so much more meaning than you would like to admit. But for some reason, neither Hoseok nor you wanted to speak about this aloud, to give your relationship a label much more bigger than simple friendship.  
People around you noticed, obviously, it was hard not to. Some of them teased, others decided not to bring up the subject for the sake of not starting a storm in a teacup.  
And life went on like that, day by day, as fall was cleaning the world from the last remains of summer, behind blurry windows a new spring was blossoming for two people.  
In the middle of November Hana moved out from your appartment after composing her life enough to afford a place on her own. She got a role in a theater, doing rehearsals every weekend and keeping her mind busy with work during weekdays, because she indeed had a lot to handle since she had come back. And certain raven-haired boy being present again in her life wasn't helping in this situation at all. If anything, his position in the equation made everything much more twisted and complicated.  
While your friend was burried deep in her scripts and old blurrs of memories, you were equally engulfed with paper work for your exams. You would have been probably still staring at the same pages for the whole night, if you hadn’t received a message from no one other than Jung Hoseok himself.
[18:56pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: get your ass up from the couch and go out with me today
[18:56pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: theres some punk rock concert today organized on the campus of YOUR uni  
[18:58pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: namjoon gave me his tickets since he cant go with his gf
[18:59pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: actually im surprised you didn’t tell me anything about this concert. shame on you princess  
There was a string of emojis after the last text and you rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your heart fluttered in your chest when you read go out with me, but you eventually composed yourself. Because after all this time, you thought it meant nothing. Simple hanging out, nothing more, nothing less.
[18:59pm] me: fyi i need to study  
[18:59pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: come on one free night wont make a big difference  
When you weren’t responding for a while, leaving him on read, he typed:
[19:03pm] hip hop choreographer wanna be: pretty pleaseee
But he didn’t know you were already in the bathroom, notes long forgotten on the couch.
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“They were sooo bad!”
“Hey, don’t be mean. At least they tried!”
“Oh please, I’m not punk rock expert but I know this Paradise City cover sucked.”
You were walking out of the small campus venue for the concerts, laughing until your lungs burned and cheeks hurt from smiling. The concert didn’t last long, just a few covers and one self composed song, more was actually happening right when you decided to go, leaving the ongoing party behind your backs.
“But they organized free beer. I think I might forgive them,” you added, slurring your words a little and occasionally bumping into Hoseok in the process of trying to stay steady on your feet.
Drinking wasn’t probably the smartest idea you could think of after considering two facts. One: Hoseok hadn't drunk even a sip beacuse he was driving. Two: you had an awful habit of becoming too honest under the influence. And combining those two things was like sitting on a bomb and waiting for it to explode any minute.  
You sat in Hoseok’s car with heavy exhale of relief. “Remind me to never drink that much again when I have to study the next day.” you mumbled, closing your eyes and leaning your head on the window.  
“Noted.” Hoseok sat down as well, smirking to himself. He reached for the keys but your next words stopped him.
“Can we like, stay here for a while? In your car I mean.” you asked with hesitation in your voice and Hoseok's eyebrows rose high.
“Why?”  
“Because it feels nice here. And maybe I don't wanna go back just yet.” The words slipped out from your mouth so casually that you didn’t even noticed the change in the atmosphere. To hell with consequences and aftermaths, to hell with becoming vulnerable when alcohol was swimming in your veins.
Hoseok smiled, even though you couldn’t see him. “Fine. But puke in here and I swear to God–”
“Geez, I hadn’t drink that much,” you snapped, opening your eyes. “Turn on some music, mister drummer. Hit me with that punk rock hits.”
Maybe you had drunk that much after all.  
Hoseok chuckled to himself, opening his Spotify and connecting it to the car's radio. “What do you have in mind?”  
“Do I look like an expert?” you retorted for the second time this night and Hoseok rolled his eyes. “Just put it on shuffle and I’ll tell you what I like.”  
He did as he was told and soon the heavy beats of something that said Stairway to Heaven lighted up on the screen in front of you. You scrunched your eyebrows. “Stairway to Heaven, Highway to Hell, what’s next? Freeway to Purgatory?”  
There was a moment of silence before you erupted into laughter. “Fuck, that was funny. Admit it.” you said, wiping the tears that had gathered in the corners of your eyes.  
“I'm pretty sure someone had come up with this joke before.”
“God, you’re no fun. Only intellectuals can understand this type of humor and unfortunately, you aren’t one.”  
Hoseok ignored your words, changing the song and this one you recognized more than well. “Leave it!” you blurted, causing him to smirk.  
“Ah, right. I forgot you’re that original,” he said in mocking tone.
Your lips turned into a scoff. “Hey, don’t disrespect Arctic Monkeys’ AM album this way. That's a masterpiece of modern discography, better than your ‘classics’ sang by old dudes. Alex Turner is hot at least.” You pointed your index finger at him accusingly. When he was about to disagree, you added,  “Besides, you have this on your playlist, so don't try to bullshit me right now. You like it as well.”
Hoseok sighed in defeat. “Okay. I wanna be yours it's a nice song. I admit it.”
“Yeah. It is,” you breathed, closing your eyes for a second, basking in the moment. “I always wanted someone to fuck me to Arctic Monkeys.”
Before you could stop yourself, the words escaped your mouth and your heartbeat immediately quickened in panic. Fuck, had you really said that out loud? The look of pure surprise mixed with amusement on Hoseok's face were telling you that you indeed revealed that you wanted to get dicked down while Arctic Monkeys played in the background. And of all people you knew, you had to do it in his presence.  
Screw your drank thoughts and fantasies, screw stupid string of fate that always played games with you, even now.
You tried to compose yourself a little, acting completely nonchalant about what had just happened. You wore a disguise of unbotherness as best you could (which was pointless, your flushed cheeks and uneasy way you squirmed on your seat said it all for you).
You wished Hoseok didn’t react, that he somehow had misheard your drunken rumbling but it was all foolish hopes.
“Careful what you wish for, princess, because you might just get it.” he whispered and you could swear his voice was lower now, it carried husskiness that weren’t there before. It wasn’t a warning.
 It was a threat.
You gulped, your face heating up instantly even more, if that was possible. Suddenly it was hard to breathe in a limited space of his car and you wanted to get out, to run away from him as fast as you could muster and hide, not standing face to face with him ever again.
But at the same time you couldn’t shake off the thought how good and right would it feel if you pressed your lips against his now, run your tongue through the seam of his mouth just to hear him groan in response, just to feel his teeth nipping the skin on your neck while his fingers were digging marks on your hips. 
You wanted him, oh, God how much you did, but you had to stop yourself before you made a big mistake.
The atmosphere was thick and heavy with unresolved tension, ready to snap in a minute if only someone made a wrong move. His words rang in your head and you wished you had never left your house that night in first place. Was he for real? Or had he said that only to make fun of you after?  
You were too scared to look in his eyes but if you did, you would see in them the raw desire swimming in his dark orbs. And if you did, you would know just how sure of his words he actually was.
But you didn’t.
Instead, you regained your composure as best as you could and muttered, “I don't feel well. Can you drive me home now?” Your tone wasn’t probably much convincing, if anything it sounded weak and strangled, so you added to lighten up the mood, “You don't want me to puke in here, do you?” and forced out a chuckle.  
Hoseok only nodded in response, reaching for the keys and turning on the engine. If he was disappointed, he hid it pretty well. After a few minutes of ride back to your home, there was mute between you, except for the music still playing from the radio. His words not even for a second left your head and you replayed them again and again just to make you more and more confused with each time you tried to understand the hidden motive behind them.
Hoseok was hard to read, you realised that since he had became strangely silent after you asked him about his plans for the future on your first coffee meeting at Blue Side. Now you knew why. He’d said he had a lot to reveal about himself yet, after all.
When you bid him short goodbye and finally reached the doors of your apartment, you crunched down on the ground after closing them and shut your eyes tightly. Somehow, tears started to ran down your face and you found yourself clutching your phone and dialing the only number you could think about in this moment.  
“Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?” Hana's voice was hoarse, she had been woken up from her slumber without a doubt. “You know I go to sleep earlier than you,” There was a sniffle on the other line and she changed her tone immediately. “What's wrong, bub? Why are you crying?”  
“I’m not crying,” you tried to protest shakily but there was no point in denying when you sounded like that.  
“What happened?” You heard Hana asking softly.
Another wave of tears jolted your body, smearing mascara all down your cheeks and when you calmed down enough to speak clearly, you mumbled, “I told Hoseok that I always wanted someone to fuck me to Arctic Monkeys.”
“Okay…? And how did he react?”
Another sob. “He said I should be careful what I wish for.”
There was a bit of silence before Hana sighed on the other side of the line. “That's not the end of the world. You’ve done worse things in your life.”
“But that's different this time.” you cried out hysterically.  
Hana smiled to herself even though you couldn’t see her now. She knew why it was different. She was aware for a while now, but she needed you to say this out loud.  
A loud cry echoed through the quiet apartment before you finally said what had been lying on the tip of your tongue for a while now.
“It's different because I think I really like him.”
And fresh fall of tears streamed down your cheeks.  
---
a/n: aaaah! it’s finally here! i was supposed to post this by the end of february but my laptop got broken and i got a new one yesterday so im sorry for the delay:( i hope you like it! 
ps. second part is coming in two or weeks! love you, julia. xx
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incineraryperiphery · 4 years ago
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FAKE TITLES!! this is literally my fave ask meme alongside the playists but ANYWAY fake titles: “cry harder, fight smarter,” “mom jeans,” aaand “horchata flavored misery”
ahh yeah, its my favorite too!! this got wayyyyyyy longer than I thought it would, whoops. gonna smack them under a cut!
cry harder, fight smarter
guess who’s got mentor!mic on the brain? (it’s me) 
for this, i’m going to have to go with a quirkless izuku who doesn’t even get into UA at all. Fails the entrance exam and fails hard with only five rescue points overall. His test scores are good enough to get into the top gen ed or management course if he wanted to, but what’s the point when you’ll spend the entire time resenting yourself for not getting into the hero course? 
Izuku does get into another hero-focused high school, though, even if he’s in a different course than he really wants to be, BUT they have a programme where you can try for a temp license in your senior year even if you aren’t in a fast-track course - as long as you have a pro hero sign off on it and agree to show you the ropes. This is definitely what Izuku has his sights on. Only, none of the heroes who work at the school will even think about working with him. He’s quirkless, not built for hero work, end of story.
Which is, y’know, frustrating. 
And that’s where Mic comes in. He’s on one of his rarer patrols after school lets out, when it’s not quite sunset yet but it’s getting there, and runs across this kid. Said kid is like, three trash towers deep into Takoba beach, with a youtube video up and trying to copy the positions in said video - the only reason Mic even knows he’s there is because he smacked into something and made a few things fall loudly enough. 
And, hey! He kinda recognizes him from the entrance exam - the highest score on the written exam, even! Not that it’s a good thing, because if Izuku was aiming for the hero course and didn’t get in, that could lead to a very angry child deciding to sink into vigilantism. So he’s gotta check it out, y’know, for the good of the community.
Izuku freaks out a bit cause hello that is Presentation Michael, and kinda guiltily admits that he’s been learning how to fight by himself and has absolutely not been thinking about vigilantism, no Sir, no way. Mic eventually talks him into not doing that and learns that Izuku’s quirkless in the process, so he’s got this kid who desperately wants to be a hero, after being turned down by literally everyone and that’s either how he ends up dying young from overestimating himself as a vigilante OR a fucking villain origin story that’s gonna screw them all over.
But Mic’s good at thinking quickly and he’s got a good head on his shoulders, so he’s like, hey you think about looking into underground heroes??? And Izuku’s like, oh shit no i didn’t. He’s trying work up to a license, but nobody’s willing to sponsor him, and he’s getting so frustrated with it. The easiest solution, obviously, is to sponsor the kid himself. 
Except none of the other teachers take it seriously, at both schools. Even Aizawa’s like, Yamada ur setting yourself up for heartbreak and failure, the fuck.
Which coalesces into the sheer spite both Mic and Izuku have in spades. Debating on whether things veer off from canon regarding the League here, though i’m inclined to have it actually be 1-a’s senior year that shit starts going Down. Give them a year or two of low stakes that makes them feel like they can take on the world.
But that also means Mic gets to bring along his no-name apprentice once he gets his provisional license. The hero class meets him as a professional in costume, because Mic’s drilled the work persona into him since almost the day they started, and none of them really know who the person behind the mask is. Which is really good once he realizes who’s in said hero class.
At that point, Izuku’s been mostly working with detectives and police instead of the field, but he has met a handful of other underground heroes who have nothing but good things to say about the new kid. He has not yet met Eraserhead, so when he actually does, it takes Aizawa a few seconds of staring to connect “new underground hopeful with brilliant analysis” with “mic’s quirkless hanger-on”. 
But, hey, as long as he doesn’t have to sacrifice one of his own students, right?
Mom Jeans
back on my inko/midnight bullshit with this one! 
They bump into each other at a clothing store, looking at the same pants (that will fit neither of them, unfortunately, but they’re cute little floral-prints) and get talking. Kayama doesn’t mention that she’s a pro hero of course, because people have funny ideas about what she should be like off-duty once they hear who she is, but Inko does mention that she has a son in high school. It’s not hard to figure out once she hears Izuku’s name, though, but his mother is charming and cute and Kayama would very much like to get to know her better even if she is related to the kid who breaks his bones for fun. 
Horchata Flavored Misery
sdfhksjdfh i have not had plain horchata, but i have had rumchata and that’s what this title makes me think of, so lets give it the full a night to remember/sanguine quest treatment instead of being horribly angsty!
Aizawa wakes up after getting blackout drunk with an empty bottle of rumchata and half of mic’s hero costume and has to work his way back to the beginning with no memory of what happened. 
Highlights include: literally all of 1-b cannot look him in the eyes and nobody will tell him why, a worrying text conversation from someone saved in his phone as “hot sauce” about the number two hero with several asides about what All Might’s hair looks like when it’s down, and a trail of candy hearts glued to his classroom’s ceiling and each of his student’s desks. 
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aion-rsa · 3 years ago
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The Undemanding Joys of a Harlan Coben Thriller
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It’s no accident that Harlan Coben’s Stay Close lands on Netflix on the 31st of December. That’s a precision release strategy calibrated to hit the exact spot between viewers’ reduced mental capacity and increased desire to gaze upon luxurious marble kitchen islands on the last day of the year. A Harlan Coben thriller is succour to a weakened state. With their gentle, leafy suburbs and upper middle-class homes – every soft-close cabinet of which is squirming with secrets – they make a binge-watch par excellence. Nothing nails you to your sofa quite like a ludicrously unlikely drama about people with big houses and dark pasts.
From Safe to The Five, The Stranger, and soon, Stay Close, here’s what makes the English-language Harlan Coben adaptations addictive yet undemanding viewing.
They’re all essentially the same
20 years ago: a Thing! Today: that Thing has returned to haunt someone living in a well-appointed six-bed with double garage and curb appeal. Over the course of eight-10 episodes, a long-buried secret will worm its way to the surface, threatening to leave muddy footprints all over the protagonist’s Land Rover Discovery and De’Longhi coffee machine. Will they ultimately end up the better for the Thing coming out? Probably, yes. But will life ever be the same again? It will not.
The secrets!
Secrets are the perennial theme of a Harlan Coben thriller, which all take the stance that we can never really know anybody. That nice lady in the PTA? Once ran a brothel. Your kids’ badminton coach? Did a hit-and-run aged 18. The helpful receptionist at the gym? She’s actually your daughter. Pick up and shake any character and they’ll rattle with at least one secret that will work its way out by the end.
The plots are essentially updated versions of 19th century novels about well-to-do women hiding scandalous pasts and mayors who once drunkenly gambled away their wife and kids. Everybody is connected to everybody else through a sticky web of past events. And once you’ve got the hang of the lurid tone, there’s a relaxing predictability about it all, not dissimilar to watching a cooking show. Here are the many characters, all measured out in neat little bowls, now tip them into the pot, stir, heat and voila! Simmering secret stew.
The twists!
Some thrillers are content with just one big twist, delivered right at the end. Not the Harlan Coben genus. The sheer density of secrets per character results in an average of three to five twists per episode, including a cliff-hanger. Once things really get going, not ten minutes will go by without somebody shouting “You’re my dad!” or “I left you for dead!” Value for money.
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TV
The Stranger Review: A Binge-Worthy UK Thriller
By Louisa Mellor
TV
Netflix’s The Stranger: What’s Been Changed from the Book
By Louisa Mellor
The unexpectedly weird bits
It’s not all lacrosse team barbecues and corpses in the boot of company SUVs. Every so often in the translation between these novels’ US origins and the UK adaptation by Danny Brocklehurst and team, arrives a pleasingly bonkers element. The Stranger featured a beheaded alpaca named after a member of Take That, and Stay Close has a pair of weirdo villains named Ken and Barbie who feel as though they’ve drifted in from another show entirely. And speaking of surprises…
Unexpected comedy highlights
You may not expect to find actual Jennifer Saunders or actual Eddie Izzard among the casts of a UK TV crime thriller, but find them you will, and a delight they are too. Saunders plays cafe owner Heidi in The Stranger, and Izzard (whose drama back catalogue is pretty extensive by now) plays a high-functioning addict and pro-bono lawyer in Stay Close. Both are great, as tend to be the female police officers in these series. Siobhan Finneran, Amanda Abbington, Jo Joyner all play no-nonsense coppers that, dark secrets notwithstanding, you’d happily invite on a mates’ night out.
The houses
If anything will teach you that money and a massive house won’t buy you happiness, it’s a Harlan Coben thriller. That said, the massive houses in leafy expensive suburbs where women answer the door in luxe workout gear saying things like “Sorry for the outfit, I’m doing boxercise” are relaxing to look at in the extreme. See-through kettles, over-sized arty glass bowls, Italian marble kitchens and bi-fold doors leading onto sunny terraces… it’s like flicking through a copy of Homes & Gardens in the dentist’s waiting room: drama and pain are on their way, but first enjoy this tasteful patio set.  
Answers are guaranteed
The three states of watching a Harlan Coben thriller are: confused, suspicious, or asleep. Viewers though, can rest assured that after devoting hours of baffled dozing suspicion to a series, there will be concrete answers. Tony-Soprano-in-the-diner ambiguity is not the game here. These thrillers are assiduous about providing an explanation for every little mystery, even if that does tend to turn the dialogue into a shopping list by the end.
The same dogged approach is taken to character. Everybody can be explained in their entirety by up to three defining incidents from their past, including but not limited to: murder, accidental murder, murders they thought they committed but it turns out they didn’t, and murders they did commit and are now currently investigating in their job as a police detective. It all runs along nicely uncomplicated lines: guilt either makes people turn bad (they run a bar) or turn good (they volunteer for a charity). No, none of it quite plumbs the depths of human experience, but there’s something satisfying about the black and whiteness of it all.
cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });
Harlan Coben’s Stay Close comes to Netflix on December 31st.
The post The Undemanding Joys of a Harlan Coben Thriller appeared first on Den of Geek.
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#160-151
160. Girl At Home (4.416)
Highest score was 7.6; Lowest score was 1
I consider this not being in the bottom five a win! Remember when we all theorised that this song was about Zac Efron? What a fun theory. It’s also fun to contrast this song with later songs such as illicit affairs and ivy. To be both anti-cheating and pro-cheating all within the same discography... the range she has!
Highlighted comments:
@leadinmeon​: “i like this one. not sure why ppl stan it so much”
@corneliaavenue​: “I'm saving my 0, but girrrlllll you were so close to getting it”
159. Bad Blood (4.497)
Highest score was 7.6; Lowest score was 0 (@na-smetisti)
A song about the Katy Perry feud that honestly feels like decades ago at this point. Looking back, what strikes me about this song is how... vague and generic the lyrics are. I mean, I unashamedly bop, but if Taylor hadn’t all but named Katy as the subject, I’m pretty sure no one would have ever known. We rated the album version here, but I think the Kendrick version probably would score a little bit higher, mostly because the verses are marginally more interesting.
Highlighted comments:
@everfolk​: “the kendrick version slaps tho”
@tobesolonely​: “this song hits at a solid ten when you're mad though”
@leadinmeon​: “look it's poppin but it's also boring”
158. Change (4.778)
Highest score was 7.5; Lowest score was 1
Honestly, I think this is one of the songs that will benefit best from a rerecording. Because as much as I love Taylor, this is... not the best showcase of her vocals. Imagine if she included that 15 second long high note that I used to see all over my timeline on swiftie twt back in 2013. Now that would be a moment.
Highlighted comments:
@corneliaavenue​: “her worst album closer”
157. Two Is Better Than One (4.797)
Highest score was 10; Lowest score was 1
This is a collab with Boys Like Girls, a band I know absolutely nothing about. I've only listened to this once, when I was doing my own ranking, and I could not tell you how it goes, but I think it bopped at least a little bit? If any OG Swifties have an insight on this collab, particularly how and why it happened, I would find that very interesting!
Highlighted comments:
@tobesolonely​: “i asked taylor to perform this on the rep tour and she looked at me like i was crazy” (she should’ve listened to you smh)
@itspeterlosingwendy​: “boys like girls was such a big part of middle school, this duet hit hard then”
@yourivysgrows: “I had war flashbacks remembering this existed”
156. Invisible (4.825)
Highest score was 9; Lowest score was 1
I have literally nothing interesting to say about this. It’s not awful, but I think it’s a concept that Taylor has done better numerous other times. I think I enjoyed it when I was like 12 years old and had a minor crush on a guy in my class I had never spoken to? I would rather not think about my 12 year old self, so let’s just leave it at that.
Highlighted comments:
@leadinmeon​: “this song is so terrible i have no idea why people like it”
@yourivysgrows: “7 year old me BOPPED to this”
155. Today Was A Fairytale (4.909)
Highest score was 8; Lowest score was 0 (@everfolk)
Am I a fake Swiftie if I've never watched Valentine's Day? I've watched a compilation of Taylor's scenes on YouTube, and that was more than enough for me. This song was probably the best thing to come out of that movie for me, and even then I hardly ever listen to it. It’s sweet, though.
Highlighted comments:
@everfolk​: “I cannot for the life of me listen to this song in full”
@onceintwentylifetimes​: “It's cute but she's done it all before and better”
@yourivysgrows: “That movie javajajaj”
154. I Forgot That You Existed (5.000)
Highest score was 7.5; Lowest score was 2
The way that the final score for this song is a perfectly average 5... almost poetic in a sense. It isn't love, it isn't hate, it's just indifference indeed. I think this song being an album opener makes me dislike it more than I otherwise would, it’s just so underwhelming in that role. Also, someone (either a sessioner or someone pretending to be a sessioner) hyped it up as being a “pop State of Grace” and I’m still bitter about that.
Highlighted comments:
@liabilitys​: “the closest she gets to acknowledging calcium hydroxide and i love that for her”
@corneliaavenue​: “I forget this song exists”
153. A Place in This World (5.059)
Highest score was 7.5; Lowest score was 2
This really hit hard for my teenage self, but it’s been a while since I really felt like it connected. It’s a nice song, and a nice sentiment, but the lyricism is ultimately a bit simplistic and the song doesn’t really have as much depth as we’ve come to expect from Taylor’s best work.
Highlighted comments:
@yourivysgrows: “Was actually a favorite as a kid but I've outgrown it”
152. Both of Us (5.066)
Highest score was 9; Lowest score was 1
I know we just talked about Two Is Better Than One and the fact that I know literally nothing about Boys Like Girls, but for me this is the most enigmatic Taylor collab. How and why did it happen? What commonalities drove BoB and Taylor to work together? Did they discuss the Flat Earth theory? So many questions, so few answers. Also while I actually think this is a very lovely song, it's produced by Dr Luke and BoB is an antisemetic conspiracy nut so we have no choice but to not stan!
Highlighted comments:
@onceintwentylifetimes​: “Taylor's chorus is nice and the rest of this song is fine but I never really want to listen to it”
@yourivysgrows: “Not bad, not my favorite”
151. End Game (ft. Ed Sheeran & Future) (5.078)
Highest score was 8; Lowest score was 1
As an End Game apologist, I’m disappointed... but not surprised. This was actually my least favourite song on reputation when it first released, but over time it snuck up on me and I can appreciate it for the bop that it is! Can we at least agree that Taylor’s verse slaps? I mean, it has the ever so brilliant “I bury hatchets but I keep maps of where I put ‘em” and I wholeheartedly believe that “I can’t let you go / Your handprints on my soul / It’s like your eyes are liquor / It’s like your body is gold” is one of her greatest lyrics ever.
Highlighted comments:
@treacherousdemo​: “will end game not being in the bottom three be upsetting to some? perhaps”
@corneliaavenue: “this song is good, you guys just hate ed sheeran” (and that’s the tea!)
@tobesolonely: “ed sheeran rapping :/” 
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lastsonlost · 5 years ago
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These women have dedicated their lives to addressing a crisis of masculinity
Some have academic backgrounds or at first campaigned for women's rights
They believe society has developed a creeping antipathy towards all things male
So who are they — and what are the issues they are fighting on men's behalf?
The gender pay gap. The lack of women in top jobs. The #MeToo movement and the exploitation and abuse it exposed. There is a damning list of evidence that the fight for equal opportunities and rights for women is far from over.
This makes it all the more surprising that a small but increasingly vocal band of women is fighting for justice — not for women, but for men.
These women have dedicated their lives to addressing what they see as a crisis of masculinity and the unfair treatment of men by society.
They come from academic backgrounds or began campaigning for women's rights before focusing on problems of the other sex.
Of course, it is not the case that women's advancement can come only at the expense of men. And no one could deny women still face huge obstacles on the road to equality.
But the campaigners believe that in its attempts to rectify historical wrongs towards women, society has developed a creeping antipathy towards all things male, and this is knocking men's confidence at a time of intense cultural shift.
They fear that many men and boys are neglected, ignored and excluded. This, they say, is why men's mental health problems are on the rise. Suicide is now the biggest killer of UK men under 45.
Some of their views are highly controversial, and some activists have been accused of ignoring the harm done to women by men, or excusing it.
So who are these women, why on earth are they doing this — and what are the issues they are fighting on men's behalf?
COURTS PUNISH MEN – AND KIDS LOSE OUT
Alison Bushell, 57, from Suffolk, runs a social work consultancy.
Britain's family courts are engaged in practices that separate fathers from their children, knowingly or not, Alison believes. She says: 'The pressure groups springing up, some of which are advising the Ministry of Justice on domestic violence cases, have an anti-male agenda.'
In 20 years as a statutory social worker she saw a lack of effort to keep families together and an 'airbrushing out' of many dads.
'I see fathers marginalised and excluded from their kids' lives,' she says, 'while mothers are supported by out-of-date gendered views of parenting within the courts, and health and social services.'
And so, she believes, custody of children is often automatically given to women even when that isn't in a child's best interests.
'False allegations are more prevalent than people realise and supervision orders disproportionately happen to fathers.'
Every day, Alison gets calls from men who haven't seen their kids for up to five years. 'Having lost contact with their children, such men sometimes turn to alcohol or drugs out of sheer desperation.
'More become depressed. I had a client who took his own life. I believe the allegations against him were a major contributing factor.'
Alison has faced several complaints of bias while representing — largely male — clients in court, but none has been upheld.
Disillusioned and concerned to highlight these inequities, she left statutory social work ten years ago to set up consultancy, Child and Family Solutions. The agency works with families going through bitter separations, and carries out assessments for the Family Court and local authorities.
She has also worked with male domestic abuse victims. 'It has given me huge respect for those daring to speak out, because there is so little help available. It is a national scandal that so few refuge places are available for men.'
In England there were more than 3,600 beds in safe houses for women in 2017, but just 20 for men. The charity ManKind Initiative, which Alison supports, has told her that only 36 of 163 beds now available in refuges or safe houses are earmarked for men.
'Since Office for National Statistics figures state that 40 per cent or more victims of domestic abuse are men, this is alarming.
'When will people realise that holding on to a gendered narrative in domestic abuse is harmful?'
As for gender politics, Alison admits she has performed a volte-face. 'In the 80s I spent time at Greenham Common and lived in a women-only house. I even had a badge declaring 'a woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle'. How times change.
'I can now be found reading [neoconservative author] Douglas Murray or listening to a talk by [Right-wing psychologist] Jordan Peterson.'
WHY I'M FIGHTING FEMINISM
Belinda Brown, 54, is a social anthropologist and co-founder of Men For Tomorrow. A widow with two children, she lives in London.
When she met her second husband, social scientist Geoff Dench — known as the architect of the socially conservative Blue Labour movement — Belinda's activism was ignited.
Together they set up Men for Tomorrow to research male problems — and fight against what they saw as a tendency to 'neglect or ignore issues affecting men'.
Shortly after their 2009 marriage, however, Geoff was diagnosed with a rare brain disease, progressive supranuclear palsy. He died on June 24 last year, aged 77. Belinda nursed him until the end.
She plans to continue his work by exposing what she sees as a deliberate attempt by feminist activists to undermine the traditional family unit.
She writes and speaks on a range of topics concerning men for platforms such as The Conservative Woman website, and carries out research aimed at reinforcing 'traditional' values.
As an anthropologist, she learned about feminism during her studies, but disagreed with much of what she heard.
'I was always aware of my own power and the power of other women,' she says. 'While I knew there were injustices which needed rectifying, today I see more injustices afflicting men.
'Most men work extremely hard to provide for their families, often at considerable cost to themselves. For women to ignore these sacrifices and instead blame men for all the problems in the world, it's divisive and damaging to gender cohesion.'
Belinda has worked for homeless charity Shelter, where like Alison Bushell she was shocked by the high proportion of men she saw.
'Almost all the rough sleepers were men and family breakdown was the reason so many were without homes,' she says.
'During divorce settlements it was always the wives who gained ownership of the house, leaving husbands stranded.'
According to charity Homeless Link, today 84 per cent of the homeless are men, and their average age at death is just 44, half the average male lifespan. She also draws a correlation between the current epidemic of gang-related knife crime and the rise in fatherlessness. Most of the offenders, she says, come from broken homes, according to her research.
As for the future of gender relations, she has this to say: 'I hope one day soon feminism will be seen as an interesting period of history, but one which caused tremendous damage to society.'
BOYS NEED MORE EMOTIONAL SUPPORT
Sonia Shaljean, 49, founded award-winning community interest company, Lads Need Dads. Married with three teenage sons, she lives in Essex.
Sonia has observed men at their lowest ebb during her 20-plus years as a substance misuse counsellor and anger management specialist within the fields of alcohol, drugs, criminal justice and homelessness.
'I was struck by how many of those men had grown up either without a father or with an abusive or unsupportive dad,' she says. So she founded not-for-profit Lads Needs Dads in 2015, with an initial grant of just £4,000.
The organisation has a team of trained male mentors, who encourage emotional intelligence in boys aged 11-15 with absent fathers. It also provides opportunities for youngsters to take part in outdoor activities, learn practical life skills and volunteer in the community.
She believes it helps to have a woman at the helm. 'If it were a man leading an all-male organisation, it could possibly be disregarded by some women.
'Our aim at Lads Need Dads is to provide support, guidance and encouragement — and a much-needed male voice to enable boys to open up.
'It's so rewarding to watch boys' self-esteem, emotional stability and motivation grow. They perform much better at school, too, as well as having improved relationships at home.'
According to the Centre for Social Justice, 1.1 million young people have little or no contact with their fathers, while 2.7 million live in lone parent families.
In his book The Boy Crisis, Dr Warren Farrell explains how fatherless boys, and to a lesser extent girls, tend to have less empathy and are more likely to break the law. According to a Unicef report on the wellbeing of children in economically advanced nations, including the UK, 85 per cent of youths in prison have an absent father.
Sonia was keenly interested in the link between fatherlessness and offending, in part because she started her career in a civilian role at the Metropolitan Police, where she managed a Community Safety Unit and helped refer victims and perpetrators to the right services.
Later she worked for the charity Refuge, setting up two women's refuges in South East London alongside volunteering on a national helpline for a men's charity that provided therapeutic programmes for men wanting to change their behaviour.
Sonia is keen to point out that not all boys growing up without a father end up as a statistic, saying: 'Other protective factors come into play, such as encouraging boys to join clubs and take part in sports, where they can find positive male role models.
'We aren't here to replace fathers. In fact our programmes have reunited many boys with their dads after years of absence.'
FATHERS PAY THE PRICE IN DIVORCE
Stacey Camille Alexander-Harriss, 41, a family support worker and children's novelist, moved to the UK from America ten years ago after meeting her English husband online. He's a City finance director and they live in Ilford with their two dogs.
A former Art and French teacher, Stacey now works supervising contact between fathers and their children after family breakdown, at Alison Bushell's agency.
'We tend to work more with dads than mums, as they seem to be the ones who have difficulty retaining a relationship with children after divorce and frequently become depressed in the custody battle.'
She believes this is the result of systemic inequalities and a bias towards mothers. 'Women hold all the power, especially when it comes to custody.
'It's unfair that dads have to pay for all the legal costs, paying people like Alison to advocate.
'Often men with good jobs from affluent backgrounds end up taking out loans. Even if you win you spend so much on this insane game.
'When mothers notice there is a maternal bias they realise they can say whatever they like about their ex. I've heard accusations of terrorism just to get custody. It's so ugly. And when mothers refuse to seek help for their emotional problems they tend to place the blame on men.'
Her books deal with troubled families — Myrtle Takes Tea, published under the pseudonym Alexander Stacey, is about a lonely nine year old with mean teachers and parents with money problems. All that matters to her is her prized toy rabbit Earl Grey.
Stacey thinks setting an example is a way to heal these injuries and help families.
'All the tools I use in my work are drawn from examples set by my own parents who were loving, strong and wise. My father was an orthopaedic surgeon and he and my mother were married for 40 patient years until they both passed away. I try to teach fathers about the importance of discipline, responsibility, self-reliance and confidence.'
I HAD DEATH THREATS - AND A BOMB SCARE
Erin Pizzey, 80, founded women's charity Refuge. She is now a patron of the charity Families Need Fathers. She lives in South London and is divorced with two children.
'I'm all for equality of the sexes,' Erin Pizzey says.
'But equality isn't the endgame for those feminists who believe women would be far better off without men.'
This may sound odd coming from the founder of the first women's refuge.
It's nearly 50 years since, aged 32 and with two young children, she set up The Chiswick Women's Refuge as a place 'where women could meet and use our talents'.
'Both my parents were violent and my mother beat me,' she says. 'So when the first battered woman came through the door and said 'no one will help me', I knew what she meant.'
The London house became women's charity Refuge — and led to the creation of hundreds more women's refuges. And yet Erin became a pariah, as she insisted many female victims were also violent.
'Of the first 100 women who came into my refuge, 62 were as violent or more violent than the men they had left,' she says.
'Therefore, domestic violence can't be a gender issue, it can't be just men, because we girls are just as badly affected.'
She became a hate figure for saying so. 'They branded me a 'victim blamer'. 'After a bomb scare, the police suggested my post be sent to them for inspection.'
In the Seventies, she tried to set up a refuge for men, with little success. 'The rich men who were willing to fund my projects for women refused to give any money to male victims.' Now she works with Families Need Fathers and is a patron of The ManKind Initiative, a charity which supports male domestic violence victims.
The subject may be becoming less taboo. Police in England and Wales recorded nearly 150,000 instances of domestic violence to men in 2017, more than double those in 2012 — which in part reflects a greater willingness to report problems.
The 2018 Crime Survey for England and Wales recorded that 7.9 per cent of women (1.3 million) and 4.2 per cent of men (695,000) have suffered domestic abuse.
It is women who are far more likely to be victims of extreme violence. Government figures show, for example, that 73 per cent of victims of domestic homicides from 2014 to 2017 were women, while most killers were male.
This leaves male victims in a difficult situation, which Erin is working to address. She says: 'I am fighting for my son, my grandsons and my great grandsons, so that they might have a future where men are no longer demonised.'
The War On Masculinity by James Innes-Smith will be published by Little Brown in spring 2020.
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221brownstone · 6 years ago
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Vulture: Elementary’s Joan Watson Is the Best-Dressed Detective on TV
In the seventh and final season of Elementary, Joan Watson is blonde. The character’s style has constantly evolved alongside her detective career and partnership with Sherlock Holmes (Jonny Lee Miller), but in all her years on the show, there has been very little change to Lucy Liu’s locks. With just 13 episodes left, though, Joan has drastically altered her hair, which in turn means one last style shake-up for the best-dressed detective on TV.
Credit for that goes to costume designer Rebecca Hofherr, who has worked on the CBS procedural since its second episode in 2012, and who has guided Joan’s transformation from predominantly casual-leaning clothing to more structured menswear-inspired pieces. Hofherr spoke to Vulture about the narrative and fashion influences behind Joan’s costume evolution, including how they put their own stamp on an iconic duo and the sartorial challenges of shooting a 20-plus-episode season in New York City.
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Joan’s styling was much more relaxed in the first year of Elementary. As his sober companion, her relationship with Sherlock was initially a professional commitment. She was not yet a detective and she was very much in the background of the investigation scenes. “Her clothing was very casual because that’s what the job called for,” Hofherr says. As Joan got more versed in the crime-solving world, her role shifted from sober companion to Sherlock’s protégée. By the second season, her costuming moved toward a slightly more sophisticated and buttoned-up approach. “As cheesy as it might sound, you need to put on a little more armor when dealing with the NYPD and all these criminals,” says Hofherr.
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Joan’s wardrobe isn’t an either/or between suits and dresses, or even casual and business attire. She didn’t become a detective and suddenly stop wearing comfortable clothing. The suits reflect a change in Joan’s status and independence as an investigator, but dresses and sandals are still a vital style ingredient. During one Hofherr’s first conversations with Liu, they agreed Joan should “feel like a real New Yorker.” Expanding on this, Hofherr included staple items such as blazers or sandals, which most women have in their closets to dress an outfit up or down. “It was really nice to be able to incorporate them into a professional world for Joan,” she says.
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Discovering the true cost of a TV character’s wardrobe is an eye-opening experience. Joan’s closet is definitely packed with high-end items — Hofherr’s go-to favored designers for Joan include Victoria Beckham, Saint Laurent, Isabel Marant, and Stella McCartney, with Rag & Bone as her signature bootee choice — but to ensure her clothing reflected that New Yorker aspect, Hofherr also shopped at Zara and H&M. “It was really important to do a mix,” she says. “I think that’s pretty much how everyone shops. I don’t think it’s realistic to only shop at high-end stores.”
Noticeable costume repeats tend to be outerwear, but Hofherr also uses staple investment pieces such as high-waisted black pencil Victoria Beckham pants. (Dressing them with an inexpensive top, she adds, is “a great way to get a lot of outfits out of a really expensive pair of pants.”) There is an aspirational element to Joan’s garments, but the high-low mixing reflects how a lot of people shop. Hofherr also notes with a laugh that “pretty much everything Lucy wore from Zara, I also own. I was like, Oh, I can afford that.”
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The one item that has appeared in all seven seasons? Joan’s red men’s Elder Statesman “house sweater.” Most people have a cozy garment that they only wear in the comfort of their own home, Hofherr explains, and Joan is no different. Sherlock and Joan’s brownstone home doubles as their office, but she wouldn’t be wearing suits at all hours of the day and night while solving a case. As Liu has worn this sweater so many times on the show, Hofherr says that not only has it molded to her body but it also has the pulls of a well-loved garment. It is also a color Joan doesn’t typically wear, which visually makes it a “nice change.”
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Joan doesn’t eschew color, but a black-and-white motif runs through the first season to the last. Regardless of whether it is a suit, skirt, or a more casual outfit, sticking with the same color tone allows for experimentation with pattern. In the above outfit from season four’s “The Games Underfoot,” she wears a Saint Laurent polka-dotted tie with a checkered J.O.A. skirt and polka-dotted Ji Oh blouse. Sometimes the costume choice reflects Joan’s career, but on occasions like this one, it shows that Joan has a “fashionable side” too. “She can throw these things together and look really cute,” Hofherr says.
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Two big style turning points emphasize Joan’s drive for equal footing with Sherlock as a detective. First came the ties, introduced at the end of season three. Suits followed, making their initial sartorial stamp in season five. The message is clear: Long gone are the days when Joan was Sherlock’s student. As with a lot of Joan’s costuming, she doesn’t stick to one specific suit-and-tie combo. In fact, the Marc Jacobs shirt above (which Hofherr got from one of her go-to sites, Shopbop) is a bit of an optical illusion, as it doesn’t even include a tie. Vests were thrown into the mix after Hofherr made the decision to stick with suits. It is also a nod to her relationship with Sherlock: Up to this point, Hofherr points out, vests have been Sherlock’s thing, so this costume mirroring is “a little nod to her respecting him so much.”
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“I went to all ends of the Earth!” Hofherr laughs when talking about the many ties Joan has worn on Elementary. Men’s offerings were out of the question for someone of Liu’s stature, as they are just too wide and long. She snapped up everything Saint Laurent and Gucci had on offer, but she also shopped at uniform companies, bought a few kids’ ties, and even made them in-house. Maybe a Joan Watson tie line should be next? “If all these designers are going to sell women’s suits, I would love for them to start making women’s ties,” Hofherr suggests.
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Another later costume addition was the Victorian-style Isabel Marant blouse. In part, this outfit was a hat tip to the original Holmes and Watson, but it also added another variation on the suit theme. One of the biggest challenges when doing a show with a full 20-plus-episode order is obtaining enough clothing, particularly for a fashion-forward character like Joan. Hofherr says that she needs 50 outfits a month — on average, Joan has five changes per episode — and costuming was made trickier because designers don’t typically replenish their collections between seasons. “We end up making a lot of clothes based on designs we love and change a few things because I can’t find 20 Victorian-style blouses or 20 men’s-style blouses,” Hofherr laments. “I can find five, but then that’s it for four months.”
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Fashion seasons are not the only Elementary costume challenge, as shooting outside in New York City from July to May means having to find clothing that fits all weather cycles. (The 13-episode final season was a bit easier, though, because they only shot until December.) Sherlock sticks to the same styles — “This guy would buy 20 of the same shirts, the same sport coat, and the same pants,” Hofherr says — and he has also worn the same Tom Ford winter peacoat for seven years. On the flip side, Joan has many changes, but she isn’t going to have a different coat for each outfit, as that is neither practical or realistic for either the character or the designer. Hofherr’s preference was to have between five and ten on hand: “If we got the coats fitted and ready to go we could just recycle them episode after episode.” Outerwear is something that is repeated across various seasons — including the Alice + Olivia coat above — but accessories like hats, gloves, and scarves are switched out to keep things fresh.
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Sometimes the weather also dictates the type of hat required: “I originally got that hat because we were shooting outside one day in the rain and they didn’t want to have umbrellas,” Hofherr says. The wider brim of this Barneys-brand men’s hat has since been worn on a number of occasions, as has the tie-waist Marissa Webb windowpane check coat (which will reappear in the final season).
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Of course, the story also dictates what Hofherr chooses for Joan. At the end of season six, creator Rob Doherty didn’t know if they were going to get renewed, so they shot two different endings. This particular Diane von Furstenberg dress fit both the ending we saw and the alternative they filmed — though Hofherr couldn’t provide any other details without spoiling the end of season seven as well. “I wanted it to be timeless, as I didn’t know if it was the last time we were ever going to see Joan Watson,” she says. “It was a little bit of an ode to all the Joans we have seen throughout the seasons. I felt a suit would have been a different look for that final scene.” No surprise, then, that it is also one of Hofherr’s costume highlights.
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Hofherr couldn’t pick a single favorite outfit, but this one she considers to be the most significant. At the end of season three, Sherlock has almost killed a man and relapsed, but Joan’s loyalty doesn’t waver. “This is where we start to see the Joan that we will forever know,” says Hofherr. “And I think this is the best version of Joan too.” The pink skirt is by Roland Mouret and the shirt is Uniqlo, which is another high-low outfit mix. It also happens to be the first time Joan wears a tie, which is a huge style turning point.
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Hofherr also spoke in depth about working with Liu, not only as an actress but in her role as a director. (She has stepped behind the camera six times on Elementary.) Referring to Liu as “one of the most inspirational women I’ve had in my life” — she also did the costume design on the Liu-starring Netflix rom-com Set It Up — she says Liu is “willing to take risks, but she knows exactly when to take them.”
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Which brings us back to the blonde mystery. Hofherr had already FaceTimed with Liu sporting her new hair color, but the styling was a task of its own. “She walked in for her first fitting of the final season and I didn’t recognize her,” said Hofherr laughing. They did plan fewer outfits than previous seasons’ fittings, she adds, “because we were figuring out what works with the blonde hair and what doesn’t.” Don’t worry: There are still plenty of outfits to come, particularly in the last two episodes. (Hofherr teased that Joan will have ten-plus changes.)
The signature black-and-white motif remains, including these fabulous Stella McCartney palazzo pants. “I always know it’s a really good outfit when all the crew members ask me what it is,” Hofherr says. That is the exact reaction Liu got when she stepped on set in this particular costume.
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dawnwave16 · 5 years ago
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Not what I expected
This is up on AO3
6; 7 (here); 8
Sorry if this comes across as a little dry.  I've come to the realisation that I just can't do Marinette justice at all.  Any scene with her in it just feels like I'm forcing it slightly.  Maybe it's because at her age I cut myself off from kids my own age I don't know...
Chapter 7:
“Barring an Akuma attach which could make me late, you will.” Marinette smiled, then yawned. “Come on Tikki, let's go get some sleep, we are going to need it.” 
 As Marinette walked the short distance back to the room she would be staying in that night, she thought about the argument she knew she was about to have with Tikki. She wanted to make sure that she had all of her reasonings straight before Tikki could even start as she knew Tikki would respect a well thought out argument rather than an emotional one. 
 Right, Fact one: I was going to call them in any way and they need as many facts as possible to create a solid profile. Fact two: Her parents already knew anyway as they had walked into her room while she was dropping her transformation after a difficult fight. Fact three: One of the men on that team was her father and deserved the truth. Fact four: As far as she knew they were leaving Paris soon anyway. Fact five: they knew how to keep secrets, they were in the FBI after all.
 Yes, Marinette thought those were all very solid reasons that, while they wouldn't calm Tikki down completely, would show Tikki that she had thought through her decision before just blurting it out. It'll help that Hotch was almost Akumatised and I needed to act quickly to prevent it! Marinette thought almost sardonically.
 As soon as they were in the room Tikki had floated up in front of her with her paws crossed. The look in Tikki's eyes almost screamed 'explain, now, or else.' Marinette almost shook her head at how predictable Tikki could be at times. Sure she could be extremely supportive but sometimes Marinette felt that Tikki only looked at the big picture and as a result, she sometimes missed the finer details and occasionally that included her feeling. 
 “I'll give you your answers but I'm going to be preparing for bed while I talk as it's extremely late and I need to be in top form for Uncle J's wedding, fair enough?” Marinette asked one eyebrow raised as if to challenge Tikki to say no. Getting Tikki's agreement Marinette started going through her nightly routine while listing off the reasons she had come up with earlier. 
 “Alright,” Tikki replied eventually, “I don't like it but I do understand it and I can see this wasn't a rash decision. I just hope they are as good as you say they are and that you haven't put your trust in the wrong place.”
 “Thanks, Tikki,” Marinette yawned as she settled into bed, her eyes already closing.
 Down the hall, the two BAU teams were trying to process the fact that Hotch's daughter was Ladybug.
 “I can't believe that she just blurted out her secret like that.” Hotch wasn't sure who said that but Reid's reply caught his interest immediately though.
 “Did she really blurt it out without thought though? Let's look at the facts here, she stated that she knew we would guess who she was anyway. This implies that she looked us up beforehand, our team is fairly well known and while not everything can be found online, it was a safe assumption that she would have tried to contact us at some point in the near future. She also was too quick to offer to prove it but didn't wait for our answer when she saw Hotch was about to be compromised. This shows that she values honesty and that she cares more for family, even if she doesn't know them well than she does for any secrecy.”
 The team was quiet until Hotch decided it was time for them all to head to bed, he knew Jack would wake him up early regardless of what time he went to bed. Jack was like Haley in that respect.
 The team woke up gradually, Hotch first then Garcia and Reid with the rest following slowly. Jack was bursting with questions about his sister and had been quite put out by the fact that she had been there the night before and they hadn't woken him up to meet her. Hotch had tried to explain but Jack had just pouted. Eventually, Garcia had suggested that they send Marinette a message and see if she was free at all that day to meet Jack. The whole team was awake by this stage so it was agreed that that was what they would do. To their surprise Marinette had replied rather quickly, saying if they didn't mind she could visit for an hour before she had to leave again. Jack had jumped on the idea and so the team had agreed.
 As a result, they were very surprised when half an hour later there was a knock on the door and when they opened it, Marinette stood there. What was more surprising was that she was dress in a lavender silk robe over a floor-length black dress that shimmered into deep purple as she walked. Her hair was artfully pulled into a half up half down riot of curls and pinned in place with what looked hairpins set with amethysts. She had light make up on with the eyeshadow done in pale shades of purple and artful wings that highlighted her eyes making them seem larger then they were. Around her neck was a stunning amethyst necklace which seemed to shimmer with life all of it's own. She was also wearing high heels, which surprised them. All in all, she looked stunning and they all said as much to her, though they did have to ask about the robe.
 “Well, I didn't want to spill anything on this dress.” She laughed then continued, “I think Penny would kill me if I did, one of her other friends is currently keeping her calm but as the wedding is in 2 hours I knew I wouldn't have time to change into my dress after we got her into her dress and I did up the laces and any last-minute touches that might be needed. We will be photographed as we do that but all the photo's that are taken today will only be released after their honeymoon is over in roughly two weeks.”
 JJ and the rest of the girls were quiet for a moment then Prentiss spoke up. “I think I speak for us all when I say two questions. One- Who is getting married and two – may we please see the whole dress that you are wearing?”
 Marinette laughed before replying, “Jagged and Penny are finally getting married and on top of asking me to design their wedding outfits, Penny asked me to be her maid of honour. I signed an NDA when I accepted but I have permission from them to tell you about it.” Instead of answering the second question verbally she stood up and shrugged off the robe revealing the ombre effect in the centre of the dress. Once again the team was struck speechless at the detail in the dress as well as it's elegance. She let them get a good look at the dress before pulling the robe back on.
 “Now, I believe there was someone eager to meet me properly.” She smiled as she spoke looking over at Hotch and Jack. For some reason, Jack was being shy and hiding behind Hotch's legs. 
 “Would it help if I sat down?” concern was evident in her voice but it seemed to help Jack break out of his momentary bashfulness as he slowly walked forward.
 “I know I saw you last night but are you sure you are my sister and not a fairy princess?” Jack's tone held a small amount of awe. “You look so pretty.”
 “I'm no fairy, though I suppose I am short enough to be one and I'm sure I'm not a princess even if I have my own tower.” She crouched then smiled and winked as she said the last bit showing that she wasn't offended. “I'm just a normal girl who gets to play dress-up once in a while and today is one of those days.” Her tone was light as though she expected Jack's shyness to return at any second and she didn't want to scare him.
 “Are you sure? You managed to tame a crocodile last night so you have to be a fairy princess!” Jack stated with all the conviction of a 9-year-old. “You pretty, can tame animals and are kind so you have to be a princess!”
 “Unfortunately I can't claim the title of a princess but there is one title I can claim, do you know what that is?”
 “No, what?”
 “Your big sister. My name is Marinette and if I heard Dad properly earlier your name is Jack right?” All Jack could do was nod even as she slowly drew him into a soft conversation. 
 The team watched on quietly, trying not to melt at the sight of the siblings interacting for the first time. It looked very cute with her crouching to be closer to Jack's height and Jack looking at her in total awe. All too soon it was time for her to head back to Penny's side, which had Jack pouting again until Marinette promised he'd see her tomorrow. That seemed to cheer him up considerably and he waved happily as she said her goodbyes to the team.
 “That went well,” Rossi said with a slightly wistful tone in his voice, thinking of how he had missed his daughter growing up and how he had missed so much of his grandson's life so far as well.
 “The more I see her, the more I can't help but want to steal her and wrap her up then hide her from the world!” Garcia's tone was light and bubbly but the team could see that she meant what she said.
 “Then let's see what we can get off her old phone to nail the liar in a way she can't wriggle out of. I swear we've had unsubs less slippery then her!” Hotch’s tone was firm yet his voice had been pitched in such a way that it wouldn't startle Jack. “Garcia please work on the phone, Reid could you please go over everything we know about her class teacher and any laws here in France that we could use to make sure we didn't miss anything while we were on the plane. Morgan, Rossi, JJ and Prentiss please head out and have a look around so that we can gauge the mood of everyone here, pay close attention to teens who look to be in Marinette's age group, just don't make it look obvious that you are doing so. We know what her class looks like thanks to the class photo so see if we can't spot them at all. I'm going to visit Tom and Sabine to see if Marinette has mentioned anyone that still believes in her as well as to introduce them to Jack.”
 The team nodded and with that, they all separated to get to work on the tasks Hotch had set for them.
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@northernbluetongue​; @moonlightstar64​; @wargraymon0709​; @winter-gardenflower​; @bee-wrecker​
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ponett · 5 years ago
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Welp... it’s over. After nine years, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is over. I just got done watching the series finale with Anthony and, just like I knew I would, when the credits rolled, I cried my eyes out
I should probably say something, huh. I’ve been sharing thoughts like this mostly on Twitter lately, but I started using Tumblr to blog about MLP, so I don’t think it would be right to post this anywhere else
I have a complicated relationship with MLP:FiM. It’s a show that got really hit or miss after the second season, and it has a fandom so toxic and so full of edgy libertarians that it scared me off from formally participating in fandoms for the rest of my life. But it’s also probably my favorite TV show of all time. There are other shows that are much better written, that have more to say, that are more consistent, even including several other cartoons from the same decade. But I think I’d be lying to myself if I said it wasn’t my favorite show
No other piece of media has had as massive of an impact on my life as My Little Pony
I grew closer to some of my closest high school friends because of our shared enthusiasm for the show. I started PonyPokey with Jake and Derek and made a bunch of bad videos and got invited to be on a wildly disorganized BronyCon panel with Jenny Nicholson in 2012. (We went on stage immediately after Lauren Faust’s panel. I barely said a word due to stage fright.)
After years of being too afraid to share my art online, I started putting more effort into learning digital art so that I could draw ponies. It started out rough, but with the drive to improve, I quickly got better. I started Fluttershy Replies. For the first time, I had an audience. I had people who cared about my work and supported me. Even as times have changed, many of you have been following me since way back then
Around the time I came out as bi in 2012, I got really into MLP shipping. Writing sappy comics and drawing sappy art became an outlet for my years of pent up feelings, and helped me sort out a lot of stuff. My Little Pony also completely changed the views on femininity that had been beaten into my skull since childhood. Suddenly, it wasn’t this strange, alien thing to be afraid of. MLP, at its heart, is a show about how there’s no wrong way to be a girl. That’s an incredibly powerful message. Rarity wasn’t a vapid snob. Fluttershy wasn’t a background character who got made into the butt of the joke. Pinkie wasn’t a ditz. These were characters written to be empathized with. And writing about my own feelings from the perspective of Fluttershy felt... right. It took me a few years to fully process those feelings, but eventually, I realized the truth. I was a trans woman. And a cartoon about horses was the first step on my path to realizing this
In 2013, one of the roughest years of my life, I decided to download RPG Maker on a whim to give myself a distraction. Naturally, my first instinct was to make a game where Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash kiss. What was initially supposed to be a short, Fantastic Game-esque playground of silly little jokes spiraled out of control and became Super Lesbian Horse RPG, a game that I poured my heart and soul into over the course of a year. And then, a couple years later, my desire to preserve the ideas from my copyright-infringing fangame also spiraled out of control, as all my creative projects do, and became SLHRPG’s successor: Super Lesbian Animal RPG. SLARPG isn’t really a reskinned MLP fangame anymore--it’s more like a new game inspired in part by my old project. The story has been drastically rewritten, the characters changed, the levels and gameplay redesigned. Most of the cast of the new game wasn’t in the original project in any form. There’s much, much, much, much, much more new content than old left in the game. And the original game had already strayed so far from the canon anyway. But I’m also not sure it would exist without MLP
I made a bunch of friends online, including close friends I still have to this day. I met the people like Bee and Thomas who I’m still working with on SLARPG. Most importantly, because we both blogged about MLP and had some mutual friends, I met Anthony, the love of my life. We’ve been together for five years now and supported each other through good times and bad. This is the lamest, corniest, stupidest thing I will ever say in my life, but he’s the Rainbow Dash to my Fluttershy
...
So what about the finale itself? (spoilers, obviously)
I have... mixed feelings on the finale. There were some things that really annoyed me in there. But also, like I said, I cried, so I think it’s safe to say they did good overall
I think the thing that stuck in my craw the most was Discord. Which I guess shouldn’t be surprising. I’ve been saying for years now how I hate Discord, how he spits in the face of everything the show stands for. He’s an obnoxious elderly manchild who constantly causes problems on purpose and torments his so-called friends the second they stop paying attention to him. But they have to put up with him and give him infinite second chances, because he’s a god and Celestia said they had to reform him
The overarching plot of the final season is that Queen Chrysalis, King Sombra, Tirek, and Cozy Glow (a Darla Dimple-esque filly villain from season 8) had teamed up with Grogar, a “new” villain taken from G1. While this goes on in the background, Twilight is making her preparations to become Celestia’s successor, as we’d known would be her destiny since the day she got wings six years ago. The villain team-up stuff was genuinely fun, and a highlight of the season for me. But then, in the three-part finale, it’s revealed that Grogar was actually Discord in disguise, and that he’d been intentionally trying to orchestrate a big attack on Twilight’s coronation so that she and her friends could save the day and get a big confidence boost going into her reign as princess. This is like... one of the most bafflingly stupid plot twist of all time. It’s literally the end of the show, and Discord has learned nothing. He’s “nice” now, but he’s still intentionally causing huge problems and putting everyone’s lives in danger to solve his problems. He freed four different villains they’d already defeated just so Twilight could beat them again, and in the process they literally blew up the goddamn castle in Canterlot and nearly killed everyone. And yet... they still forgive him, because they have to
I did, however, think that the last two-part adventure episode was fun overall. It tied a nice bow on much of the series, bringing back a bunch of old friends (including cameos from the movie cast!) to band together and save the day. Of course, in the end, they beat the bad guys with a big rainbow laser and sealed them in a statue. You know, even though a previous season finale was all about how solving their problems with a friendship laser and sealing the villains away never worked. Also, Cozy Glow might be evil, but she’s still literally a child? And now her petrified body is on display in the center of Canterlot? What the fuck????
I’m complaining a lot, but again. It was fun overall. It was nice to have one last big adventure, and to have the mane six reflect on how they’d grown since Twilight moved to Ponyville
...
And then we got the actual final episode. And boy did this one hit me HARD
I’m so glad that they ended on a quieter episode about the main cast’s friendships, because that’s what the show is actually about. The two-part adventures to save Equestria every season are fun, but that’s not the real show. We all came back every week for Twilight and her friends
There are things I can complain about here, too. Spike being a buff adult dragon with the voice of a child is fucked up. I’m still not used to seeing Twilight be Celestia’s size. But more than anything, I was always worried that we’d get a Harry Potter ending, where all the characters are paired off into arbitrary marriages so they can all have kids. Thankfully, this didn’t really happen. The only one who had a kid was Pinkie, who apparently got married to Cheese Sandwich (Weird Al’s character) at some point. Like, they literally shared two episodes together, with no hint of romance? But then they got married and had a kid off-screen??? What the fuck???? A lot of people also think that Fluttershy ended up with Discord, and I know I’m massively biased against that ship, but... I mean, they teased the FlutterCord shippers, but there wasn’t really any actual textual evidence that they were any closer than they had been previously. Y’all weirdos who ship Fluttershy with an obnoxious elderly man can interpret that as being “canon” if you want, I guess, but it’s not
The other relationship that shocked everyone in the finale was Applejack and Rainbow Dash, who... appear to be a couple? It’s definitely hinted at. I have... very, very mixed feelings about this. I mean, okay, obivously I’m the big FlutterDash fangirl. But I think AppleDash is cute, too! The problem is that, like... they’ve barely interacted in years? Like, they had a lot of episodes together in the first two seasons, but then the writers barely ever had them interact past that point. I can’t even remember when the last time we got an actual episode focusing on them was. And no, the one where Rainbow takes Granny Smith to pony Vegas doesn’t count
Like... yeah, it’s cute. It’s a nice gesture. Lyra and Bon Bon getting married in the background was also cute. But we can do so, so much better in 2019. We have so many explicitly canon lesbian couples in cartoons. Couples that actually kissed, or got married, or showed feelings for each other. Rainbow and AJ barely even fucking talked to each other in the final few seasons. I dunno, it just feels very hollow to me. Even the Equestria Girls crew admitting they were pushing RariJack felt more substantial to me, because at least they were given on-screen chemistry and lots of canon interaction
But in the end, complaints aside, the finale was about Twilight moving back to Canterlot, and worrying that her friendships would fade because of it. Honestly, I think this is what the finale of the show always would’ve been. It was the perfect story to end on. And boy, it hit really close to home
And then the last song happens, reflecting on how things have changed, but how they’re all still friends. And we see all the other friends they made along the way. And the camera zooms out, and the book from the opening of the very first episode closes, bringing the entire nine-year saga full circle
And then I started sobbing really hard in Anthony’s arms
...
I dunno. I just got done nitpicking a lot, but I still think that the last episode was a good and very emotional ending for the show
I’m going to miss this show dearly. I know it will be back in a new form, and that the leaks indicate that it’ll still star slightly different versions of the Mane Six. I’m also used to shows like this getting rebooted. Hasbro cartoons are honestly lucky to last past three seasons. FiM, on the other hand, got over 200 episodes, a theatrical film, a few specials, some shorts, a bunch of comics (which I still need to read), and a spinoff human AU series that was also really great. There’s no shortage of content, and I’m sure I’ll be returning to the series for years to come. I’m also glad that the show managed to go out on a high note
But still. It was a constant presence in my life for nearly nine years. Even as the quality got really hit or miss, even as they took the premise in strange directions, even as the crew of the show grew more and more dominated by men, it was still a show I could rely on to always be there, 26 episodes a year. I’ll miss it. I hope what comes next is just as good, if not even better. I also hope it’s gayer
I was going to end my ask blog, Fluttershy Replies, around the time the show ended. I’m not sure if I’ll do that just yet. I don’t know. I think that might be a bit much for me to process emotionally. Too many doors closing in my life in quick succession. But I do want to do more with it. These characters will be special to me for the rest of my life
I mean shit, I haven’t even drawn StarTrix yet. I’ve still got a lot of work to do with these horses, folks
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rrattlesnake-archive · 5 years ago
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Nichijou: A Reflection
It’s December 29, 2019, and I’m packing up my things on a trip to a resort in Playa del Carmen, Mexico. One of the things I brought along was my iPad 4. It had looked pretty worn out after years of on-and-off use, but still functional. Normally, I would’ve used it to play random apps and games; the iPad was my little boredom buster when things got stagnant. But I had outgrown the magic rectangle. I had handed over my gamer card, as none of the apps I loved provided any real entertainment value after years of use. At this point, I only used it to watch TV shows. I had some good selections, like The Eric Andre Show, Xavier: Renegade Angel, Your Pretty Face Is Going to Hell, and Portlandia, but I thought it would be nice for a new addition. I remember someone telling me long about about something called “Nichijou”, and out of nowhere that memory came back. I had only heard of it, but now it was time to actually watch it. I purchased the show and fell asleep.
I’m on the plane and thought it would be a good idea to start 2020 by starting the first episode of Nichijou, and it was a great idea in hindsight: to kick off an entire decade with a highly praised anime. On New Year’s Eve I was at an outdoor performance, and it was spectacular. Fire breathing, drumming, everything. I checked my phone, and I had only 15 minutes to make it back to my hotel room and initiate the plan. I ran as fast as I could go, but for some reason I could not remember how to get back to my room, something we joked about for the whole trip ever since we got lost on the first day. I returned with only two minutes to go. I opened time.is and prepared myself for the big moment. The fireworks went off a few seconds before the countdown ended, but at the stroke of midnight, I was successful. The opening logos... Kadokawa... Funimation... and then...
“What’s wrong, Yuuko?”
“I don’t have any motivation to do anything.”
“What do you mean? We’re high school students. The new semester just begun! If you just start doing things, the motivation will come to you naturally!”
Those first lines were the start of an incredible journey through the lives of three high school girls, a robot and her creator, and a whole bunch of other personalities. And dare I say, I loved every single minute of it.
Yuuko and Mio are near-polar opposites. The former always forgets her homework, but the latter will always try to make sure she does alright, despite her seemingly turning on Yuuko at some points. While this got a bit intense, it still made for great comedy. In one of my favourite moments of the series, Yuuko’s helping Mio out with her manga, but she encounters mishap after mishap, like spilling ink all over a page, and then trying to get a characters’ face exactly right. She keeps trying until they run out of manuscript paper. Then later in the episode, Mio chastises Yuuko for thinking she would get more, believing that she made excuse after excuse after excuse, and honestly it looked like Mio was about to kill her. But in a perfectly executed moment, it’s revealed Yuuko got the manuscript after all. You’d think Mio would chastise her further but... all she can say is something Yuuko said previously...
While those two are great and all, it’s Mai Minakami that steals the show. She is the ultimate silent killer, stealthily finding ways to mess up the other two’s day, but it’s usually Yuuko who’s more reactive to her japes. Highlights include standing on her own desk, hitting Yuuko with a book, and using the “Incantation of Resurrection” to win a stair game, which backfires on her. Who knew such a quiet mind could pull off pranks like these?
The Shinonome Lab is a classic example of someone who knows too much for their age. Hakase is just a little kid, but she was able to build Nano... somehow. I’m not going to question it. They’re also a source of great comedy, with all of Nano’s “features”. and eventually a storyline of her trying to fit in with the others at school. It goes from funny to heartwarming over the course of the series.
Of course I couldn’t talk about Nichijou without mentioning the high-quality animation. I mean, it’s Kyoto Animation, so every frame is done with the utmost care and attention. How the animators managed to pack in so much detail is beyond me, but they did a tremendous job with it all.
The other bits such as “Helvetica Standard” and “Word-Time” keep the surreal humour coming, and that’s what I like in my comedy. The weirdness coupled with the mundanities of life can lead to well-executed humour, and Nichijou did not disappoint. The jokes and gags genuinely made me laugh no matter how intense the reactions were, and even something as simple as a lens falling out of someone’s glasses provoked chuckles. This show reinvigorated my passion for weird comedy, and as a result, I can proudly say that Nichijou saved my life. In times like these, we need something to lighten the mood, and Nichijou kept me from descending into the depths of depression. It fit the bill for all my preferences of humour to a t, and it never disappointed me if a joke fell flat, because it would grow on me over time. I can easily say Nichijou is one of the best anime comedies out there, nay, the best comedy anime, the best anime, period. I cannot thank whoever said the show’s name to me years ago, because if that word had dissolved in my mind, my life would be more ordinary than theirs. But perhaps it is a series of miracles after all...
I originally planned to watch one episode a day, so that the last episode would be on January 26. However, college and coronavirus delayed those plans, but I refused to give up in watching the whole thing. Yesterday, May 25, I had decided enough is enough. I was going to watch the last five episodes in one sitting. As I listened to the final ending song I felt a sense of accomplishment in knowing I had completed a full series... it almost had me tearing up but I was strong enough to hold it all back. Of course, I could always go back to the beginning and start again, which I will do. But until then, I had a masterpiece of comedy in my hands, and I was ready to get inspired by it.
As for the iPad 4, I did a factory reset so another member of the family could use it for themselves, exactly 7 years to the day after I first got it. I now use an iPad 7, and I couldn’t be happier with the upgrade.
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skelanimal-opossum · 5 years ago
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6 Underground Headcannons !!
Warnings: lil bit of sexual content, otherwise it’s just soft
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One
• One values alone time but is very lonely.
• He doesn’t know his son, has never properly met the kid, so he has a sort of paternal vibe with Four. He doesn’t like to admit it, but he gets worried about how much danger the kid is in on most missions.
• okay so like,, I understand that this throws off the idea of him having a biological son with a hypothetically cis woman, but I headcannon One as trans.
• in the flashbacks to his childhood he very much as the tomboy vibe of ‘haha what if I was a dude... just kidding... unless’
• this is just a fun list of headcannons so don’t try to yell at me about how it wouldn’t work
• he’s bi. it doesn’t matter what gender you are, if he’s into you, he’ll try to close himself off from you either way
• Seven might slowly be getting him to open up tho
Two
• This woman is a top & no you cannot change my mind. I don’t care if the sex scene was pretty explicit, this individual fucks Three on the regular.
• We all know she’s a badass,, but Three is making her a little softer.
• Her favorite flowers are lavender, the scent is calming and it helps her relax after a day of kicking ass
• her & Three have date nights where he cooks & they just hold hands & talk. If she is asked, she will deny those nights exist.
• At any given time, around her fellow ghosts, she will go off about the corruption in the government. She’s seen it first hand and wants nothing more than to take it down. She thought she could change it from the inside, which is why she was in the CIA to begin with... but as time passed she got sick of waiting.
Three
• This boy is so soft !!
• He loves his momma & adores flowers ! He brings her a bouquet every time he sees her because,, he’s actually really into botany !
• he has a little greenhouse/growlight setup in the back of the hideout where everyone just kinda assumed he was growing weed or something, until some really pretty flowers sprout up
• he also cooks ! His momma taught him how when he was little & he’s carried those skills with him. Every day he’s mad that they don’t have a better kitchen. One is sick of hearing about it.
• his tiny garden expanded over time to not only include the flowers he brings his mom, but also spices, herbs, and veggies so he can make nice meals for his girl & his friends
• he of course grows lavender as well
Four
• my bapy,, I love him
• Four is autistic ! He can only wear certain textures & lowkey hates having to wear anything that isn’t skin tight. If he’s wearing something baggy, he almost certainly has something tight on underneath it.
• alternatively he just fucking refuses to wear clothing
• he has a lot of energy & that’s why he likes to ruuun !!! He’s usually super burnt out tho after a mission so he just melts into the nearest soft surface (couch or person)
• if it’s a person he melts towards,, it’s always Six.
• they were,, sorta together ? when Six was still around. He took his death the hardest because of their close relationship.
• Four specifically has Sensory Processing Disorder & likes to have his hands & arms squeezed to help him calm down. Once they got back to the hideout, Six would sit with Four and just squeeze up and down his arms until he completely relaxed.
Five
• Meticulous gal,, very specific about where things belong and how things should be.
• she works super well under pressure but always prefers a quiet and calm environment to do her work,, even if she doesn’t always get it
• can’t cook to save her fucking life
• crashes Two & Three’s date nights & steals their food like an absolute gremlin
• she is the only one of these bastards with a lick of fashion sense. You see that highlighter yellow dress w the pink mask ?? Matching shoes AND watch ?? She always looks good.
• can do anything in heels. No one has ever seen her fall or even trip while wearing heels.
Six
• Knows all the breeds of cars,, but also just likes the brightly colored pretty ones
• will get distracted on missions because he sees a  DeLorean & wants to touch it
• obviously an excellent driver in high pressure situations,, but he adores just a quiet drive through the country, holding someone’s hand over the center console & listening to 2000s pop music on the radio
• Four went with him on one of his country drives once & it was just wholesome & soft
• they forgot to stop holding hands when they got back & One was a little pissy about it
• he’s,, baby.
Seven
• himbo energy honestly
• he cares so much,, finds family & home wherever he is,, but also makes a lot of stupid descions. Like inviting someone who isn’t a ghost to eat lunch with them, just cause idk,, they looked hungry
• drinks his respect women juice,, but wow he’s gay as hell. Has a lil itty bitty crush on One.
• he wants to get to know him better, crack open that tough-guy act and know what he’s really like deep down. He’s fascinated, infatuated even.
• he has !! So much love to give !!
• he treats Four like his son,, he loves that boy.
• Four doesn’t mind, he likes attention.
• He gives the best pep talks,, everyone comes to him to talk about their issues & he helps them to the best of his ability
• playing therapist does wear him out sometimes though,, that’s when he goes & watches some Leave It To Beaver with One
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Irene Dunne DHS (born Irene Marie Dunn; December 20, 1898 – September 4, 1990) was an American actress and singer who appeared in films during the Golden Age of Hollywood. She is best known for her comedic roles, despite being in films of varied genres.
After her father died when she was fourteen, Dunne's family relocated from Kentucky to Indiana and she became determined to become an opera singer, but when she was rejected by The Met, she performed in musicals on Broadway until she was scouted by RKO and made her Hollywood film debut in the 1930 musical Leathernecking. She starred in 42 movies and made guest appearances on radio and in popular anthology television until 1962; she was nominated five times for the Academy Award for Best Actress – for her performances in Cimarron (1931), Theodora Goes Wild (1936), The Awful Truth (1937), Love Affair (1939), and I Remember Mama (1948) – and was one of the top 25 highest-paid actors of her time.
In the present, Dunne is considered one of the greatest actresses who never won an Academy Award. Some critics theorize that her performances have been underappreciated and largely forgotten, overshadowed by movie remakes and her better-known co-stars. Dunne once fled across the Atlantic Ocean to avoid starring in a comedy, but she has been praised by many during her career, and after her death, as one of the best comedic actresses in the screwball genre. She was nicknamed "The First Lady of Hollywood" for her regal manner despite being proud of her Irish-American, country girl roots.
Dunne devoted her retirement to philanthropy and was chosen by President Dwight D. Eisenhower as a delegate for the United States to the United Nations, in which she advocated for world peace and highlighted refugee-relief programs. She also used the time to be with her family – her husband, dentist Dr. Francis Griffin, and their daughter Mary Frances, whom they adopted in 1938. She received numerous awards for her philanthropy, including honorary doctorates, a Laetare Medal and a Sepulchre damehood, and was given a Kennedy Center Honor for her services to the arts.
Irene Marie Dunn was born on December 20, 1898, at 507 East Gray Street in Louisville, Kentucky,
Following her father's death, Dunne's family moved to her mother's hometown of Madison, Indiana, living at 916 W. Second St., in the same neighborhood as Dunne's grandparents' home. Dunne's mother taught her to play the piano as a very small girl — according to Dunne, "Music was as natural as breathing in our house," — but unfortunately for her, music lessons frequently prevented her from playing with the neighborhood kids. Her first school production of A Midsummer Night's Dream began her interest in drama, so she took singing lessons as well, and sang in local churches and high school plays before her graduation in 1916. Her first ambition was to become a music teacher and studied at the Indianapolis Conservatory of Music and Webster College, earning a diploma in 1918, but saw an audition advertizement for the Chicago Musical College when she visited friends during a journey to Gary, and won the College scholarship, officially graduating in 1926. She hoped to become a soprano opera singer, relocating to New York after finishing her second year in 1920, but did not pass the audition with the Metropolitan Opera Company due to her inexperience and her "slight" voice.
Dunne took more singing lessons and then dancing lessons to prepare for a possible career in musical theater. On a New York vacation to visit family friends, she was recommended to audition for a stage musical, eventually starring as the leading role in the popular play Irene, which toured major cities as a roadshow throughout 1921. "Back in New York," Dunne reflected, "I thought that with my experience on the road and musical education it would be easy to win a role. It wasn't." Her Broadway debut was December 25, the following year as Tessie in Zelda Sears's The Clinging Vine, and she took leading role when the original actress took a leave of absence in 1924. Supporting roles in musical theater productions followed in the shows The City Chap (1925), Yours Truly (1927) and She's My Baby (1928). Her first top-billing, leading role Luckee Girl (1928) was not as successful as her previous projects. She would later call her career beginnings "not great furor." At this time, Dunne added the extra "e" to her surname, which had ironically been misspelled as "Dunne" at times throughout her life until this point; until her death, "Dunne" would then occasionally be misspelled as "Dunn." Starring as Magnolia Hawks in a road company adaptation of Show Boat was the result of a chance meeting with its director Florenz Ziegfeld Jr. in an elevator the day she returned from her honeymoon, when he mistook her for his next potential client, eventually sending his secretary to chase after her. A talent scout for RKO Pictures attended a performance, and Dunne signed the studio's contract, appearing in her first movie, Leathernecking (1930), a film version of the musical Present Arms. Already in her 30s when she made her first film, she would be in competition with younger actresses for roles, and found it advantageous to evade questions that would reveal her age, so publicists encouraged the belief that she was born in 1901 or 1904; the former is the date engraved on her tombstone.
The "Hollywood musical" era had fizzled out so Dunne moved to dramatic roles during the Pre-Code era, leading a successful campaign for the role of Sabra in Cimarron (1931) with her soon-to-be co-star Richard Dix, receiving her first Best Actress nomination. Her role as the determined but ladylike mother figure of Sabra reflected her later persona and the films she starred in afterwards, such as the melodramas Back Street (1932) and Magnificent Obsession (1935). The latter had the best critical acclaim and the melodrama she reportedly did the most preparation for, studying Braille and working on posture with blind consultant Ruby Fruth. This was after she and Dix reunited for Stingaree (1934), where overall consensus was that Dunne had usurped Dix's star power. The 1934 Sweet Adeline remake and Roberta (1935) were Dunne's first two musicals since Leathernecking; Roberta also starred dancing partners Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, and she sang the musical's breakaway pop hit "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes." In 1936, she starred as Magnolia Hawks in Show Boat (1936), directed by James Whale. Dunne had concerns about Whale's directing decisions, but she later admitted that her favorite scene to film was "Make Believe" with Allan Jones because it reminded her of Romeo and Juliet. It was during this year that Dunne's RKO contract had expired and she had decided to become a freelance actor, with the power to choose studios and directors. Dunne was apprehensive about attempting her first comedy role as the title character in Theodora Goes Wild (1936), but discovered that she enjoyed it, and received her second Best Actress Oscar nomination for the performance.
Later years of Dunne's film career became diverse. She starred in three films each with Charles Boyer and Cary Grant in screwball comedies (The Awful Truth (1937), My Favorite Wife (1940)), romantic dramas (Love Affair (1939), When Tomorrow Comes (1939)), drama (Penny Serenade (1941)) and comedy (Together Again (1944)). She starred in fictionalized dramas Anna and the King of Siam (1946) and later The Mudlark (1950) as Anna Leonowens and Queen Victoria, respectively, was in the comedies Unfinished Business (1941), Lady in a Jam (1942) and Over 21 (1945), and the war movies A Guy Named Joe (1943) and The White Cliffs of Dover (1944). She also starred as mothers Lavinia Day in Life with Father (1947), and Marta Hanson in I Remember Mama (1948). Marta required her to wear aging makeup and body padding, and she wore prosthetics to portray Queen Victoria.
Dunne's last three films were box-office failures. The Mudlark was a success in the UK, despite initial critical concern over the only foreigner in a British film starring as a well-known British monarch, but her American fans disapproved of the prosthetic decisions. The comedy It Grows on Trees (1952) became Dunne's last movie performance, although she remained on the lookout for suitable film scripts for years afterwards. On the radio, she and Fred MacMurray respectively played a feuding editor and reporter of a struggling newspaper in the 52-episode comedy-drama Bright Star, which aired in syndication between 1952 and 1953 by the Ziv Company. She also starred in and hosted episodes of television anthologies, such as Ford Theatre, General Electric Theater, and the Schlitz Playhouse of Stars. Faye Emerson wrote in 1954 that "I hope we see much more of Miss Dunne on TV," and Nick Adams called Dunne's performance in Saints and Sinners worthy of an Emmy nomination. Dunne's last acting credit was in 1962, but she was once rumored to star in a movie named Heaven Train, and rejected an offer to cameo in Airport '77.
Dunne appeared at 1953's March of Dimes showcase in New York City to introduce two little girls nicknamed the Poster Children, who performed a dramatization about polio research. She was later present at Disneyland's "Dedication Day" in 1955 to christen the Mark Twain Riverboat with a bottle containing water from several major rivers across the United States. Years before, Dunne had also christened the SS Carole Lombard.
In her retirement, she devoted herself primarily to humanitarianism. Some of the organizations she worked with include the American Cancer Society, the Los Angeles Orphanage, and the American Red Cross. She was also president of St. John's Hospital Clinic and became a board member of Technicolor in 1965, the first woman ever elected to the board of directors. She established an African American school for Los Angeles, negotiated donations to St. John's through box office results, and served as chairwoman in 1949 for the American Heart Association's women's committee, and Hebrew University Rebuilding Fun's sponsors committee. She appeared in 1955's celebrity-rostered television special Benefit Show for Retarded Children with Jack Benny as host. Dunne also donated to refurbishments in Madison, Indiana, funding the manufacture of Camp Louis Ernst Boy Scout's gate in 1939 and the Broadway Fountain's 1976 restoration.
Dunne reflected: "If I began living in Hollywood today I would certainly one thing that I did when I arrived, and that is to be active in charity. If one is going to take something out of a community — any community — one must put something in, too." She also hoped that charity would encourage submissive women to find independence: "I wish women would be more direct. ...I was amazed when some quiet little mouse of a woman was given a job which seemed to be out of all proportion to her capabilities. Then I saw the drive with which she undertook that job and put it through to a great finish. It was both inspiring and surprising. I want women to be individuals. They should not lean on their husbands' opinions and be merely echoes of the men of the family.
In 1957, President Eisenhower appointed Dunne one of five alternative U.S. delegates to the United Nations in recognition of her interest in international affairs and Roman Catholic and Republican causes. Dunne admired the U.N.'s dedication to creating world peace, and was inspired by colleagues' beliefs that Hollywood influenced the world. She held delegacy for two years and addressed the General Assembly twice. She gave her delegacy its own anthem: "Getting to Know You" because "it's so simple, and yet so fundamental in international relations today." Dunne later described her Assembly request for $21 million to help Palestinian refugees as her "biggest thrill," and called her delegacy career the "highlight of my life." She also concluded, "I came away greatly impressed with the work the U.N. does in its limited field — and it does have certain limits. I think we averted a serious situation in Syria, which might have been much more worse without a forum to hear it... And I'm much impressed with the work the U.N. agencies do. I'm especially interested in UNICEF's work with children[,] and the health organization[.]"
Dunne was a lifelong Republican and participated in 1948's Republican convention. She accepted the U.N. delegacy offer because she viewed the U.N. as apolitical. She later explained: "I'm a Nixon Republican, not a Goldwater one. I don't like extremism in any case. The extreme rights do as much harm as the extreme lefts." Her large input in politics created an assumption that she was a member of the "Hollywood right-wing fringe," which Dunne denied, calling herself "foolish" for being involved years before other celebrities did.
Dunne's father frequently told Dunne about his memories of traveling on bayous and lazy rivers. Dunne's favorite family vacations were riverboat rides and parades, later recalling a voyage from St. Louis to New Orleans, and watching boats on the Ohio River from the hillside. She admitted, "No triumph of either my stage or screen career has ever rivaled the excitement of trips down the Mississippi on the riverboats with my father."
Dunne was an avid golf player and had played since high school graduation; she and her husband often played against each other and she made a hole in one in two different games. She was good friends with Loretta Young, Jimmy Stewart, Bob Hope, Ronald Reagan, Carole Lombard, and George Stevens Jr., and became godmother to Young's son, Peter. Dunne also bonded with Leo McCarey over numerous similar interests, such as their Irish ancestry, music, religious backgrounds, and humor. School friends nicknamed her "Dunnie" and she was referred to as this in Madison High School's 1916 yearbook, along with the description "divinely tall and most divinely fair."
One of Dunne's later public appearances was in April 1985, when she attended the dedication of a bronze bust in her honor at St. John's Hospital in Santa Monica, California, for which her foundation, The Irene Dunne Guild, had raised more than $20 million. The Irene Dunne Guild remains "instrumental in raising funds to support programs and services at St. John's" hospital in Santa Monica. The artwork, commissioned by the hospital from artist Artis Lane, has a plaque reading "IRENE DUNNE First Lady Of Saint John's Hospital and Health Center Foundation."
Between 1919 and 1922, Dunne was close to Fritz Ernst, a businessman based in Chicago who was 20 years older than her and a member of one of the richest families in Madison, Indiana. They frequently corresponded over letters while Dunne was training for musical theater but when Fritz proposed, Dunne rejected, due to pressure from her mother and wanting to focus on acting. They remained friends and continued writing letters until Ernst died in 1959.
At a New York, Biltmore Hotel supper party in 1924, Dunne met Northampton-born dentist Francis Griffin. According to Dunne, he preferred being a bachelor, yet tried everything he could to meet her. To her frustration, he did not telephone her until over a month later, but the relationship had strengthened and they married in Manhattan on July 13, 1927. They had constantly argued about the state of their careers if they ever got married, with Dunne agreeing to consider theater retirement sometime in the future and Griffin agreeing to support Dunne's acting. Griffin later explained: "I didn't like the moral tone of show business. [...] Then Ziegfeld signed her for 'Show Boat' and it looked like she was due for big things. Next came Hollywood and [she] was catapulted to the top. Then I didn't feel I could ask her to drop her career. [I] really didn't think marriage and the stage were compatible but we loved each other and we were both determined to make our marriage work."
When Dunne decided to star in Leathernecking, it was meant to be her only Hollywood project, but when it was a box-office bomb, she took an interest in Cimarron. Soon after, she and her mother moved to Hollywood and maintained a long-distance relationship with her husband and brother in New York until they joined her in California in 1936. They remained married until Griffin's death on October 14, 1965, and lived in the Holmby Hills in a "kind of French Chateau" they designed. They had one daughter, Mary Frances (née Anna Mary Bush; born 1932), who was adopted by the couple in 1936 (finalized in 1938) from the New York Foundling Hospital, run by the Sisters of Charity of New York. Due to Dunne's privacy, Hollywood columnists struggled to find scandals to write about her — an eventual interview with Photoplay included the disclaimer, "I can guarantee no juicy bits of intimate gossip. Unless, perhaps she lies awake nights heartsick about the kitchen sink in her new home. She's afraid it's too near to the door. Or would you call that juicy? No? No, I thought not." When the magazines alleged that Dunne and Griffin would divorce, Griffin released a statement denying any marital issues. When Griffin was asked about how the marriage had lasted, he replied, "When she had to go on location for a film I arranged my schedule so I could go with her. When I had to go out of town she arranged her schedule so she could be with me. We co-operate in everything. [...] I think a man married to a career woman in show business has to be convinced that his wife's talent is too strong to be dimmed or put out. Then, he can be just as proud of her success as she is and, inside he can take a bow himself for whatever help he's been."
After retiring from dentistry, Griffin became Dunne's business manager, and helped negotiate her first contract. The couple became interested in real estate, later investing in the Beverly Wilshire and partnering with Griffin's family's businesses (Griffin Equipment Company and The Griffin Wellpoint Company.) Griffin sat as a board member of numerous banks, but his offices were relocated from Century City to their home after his death, when Dunne took over as president.
Dunne was a devout Roman Catholic, who became a daily communicant. She was a member of the Church of the Good Shepherd and the Catholic Motion Picture Guild in Beverly Hills, California. Both Dunne and her husband were members of the Knights of Malta.
Dunne died at the age of 91 in her Holmby Hills home on September 4, 1990, and is entombed in the Calvary Cemetery, East Los Angeles. She had been unwell for a year and became bedridden about a month before. Her personal papers are housed at the University of Southern California. She was survived by her daughter, two grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.
Dunne is considered one of the best actresses of The Golden Age of Hollywood never to win an Academy Award. Roger Fristoe pointed out that "a generation of filmgoers is mostly unfamiliar with her work" because some of her movies had been remade, including Love Affair (remade as An Affair to Remember), Show Boat (remade in 1951), My Favourite Wife (remade as Move Over, Darling), and Cimarron (remade in 1960). Dunne once noted that she had lacked the "terrifying ambition" of some other actresses, explaining in 1977, "I drifted into acting and drifted out. Acting is not everything. Living is." The Awful Truth was voted the 68th best comedy of American cinema.
Although known for her comedic roles, Dunne admitted that she never saw comedy as a worthy genre, even leaving the country to the London premiere of Show Boat with her husband and James Whale to get away from being confronted with a script for Theodora Goes Wild. "I never admired a comedienne," she said retrospectively, "yet it was very easy for me, very natural. It was no effort for me to do comedy at all. Maybe that's why I wasn't so appreciative of it." She ascribed her sense of humor to her late father, as well as her "Irish stubbornness." Her screwball comedy characters have been praised for their subversions to the traditional characterisation of female leads in the genre, particularly Susan (Katharine Hepburn) in Bringing Up Baby and Irene (Carole Lombard) in My Man Godfrey. "Unlike the genre's stereotypical leading lady, who exhibits bonkers behaviour continuously," writes Wes D. Gehring, "Dunne's screwball heroine [in Theodora Goes Wild] chooses when she goes wild." Biographers and critics argue that Dunne's groundedness made her screwball characters more attractive than her contemporaries; Maria DiBattista points out that Dunne is the "only comic actress working under the strictures of the Production Code" who ends both of her screwball movies alongside Cary Grant with a heavy implication of sharing a bed with him, "under the guise of keeping him at bay." Meanwhile, outside of comedy, Andrew Sarris theorized that Dunne's sex appeal is due to the common narrative in her movies about a good girl "going bad."
Dunne was popular with co-workers off-camera, earning a reputation as warm, approachable and having a "poised, gracious manner" like royalty, which spilled into her persona in movies. She earned the nickname "The First Lady of Hollywood" because "she was the first real lady Hollywood has ever seen," said Leo McCarey, with Gregory La Cava adding, "If Irene Dunne isn't the first lady of Hollywood, then she's the last one." Ironically, this title had been bestowed on her when she was a little girl when an aunt cooed "What a little lady!"[159] This ladylike attitude furthered Sarris' sex appeal claims, admitting that the scene when she shares a carriage with Preston Foster on the train in Unfinished Business was practically his "rite of passage" to a sex scene in a film, theorizing that the sex appeal of Dunne came from "a good girl deciding thoughtfully to be bad." On the blatant eroticism of the same train scene, Megan McGurk wrote, "The only thing that allowed this film to pass the censors was that good-girl Irene Dunne can have a one-night stand with a random because she loves him, rather than just a once-off fling. For most other women of her star magnitude, you could not imagine a heroine without a moral compass trained on true north. Irene Dunne elevates a tawdry encounter to something justifiably pure or blameless. She's just not the casual sex type, so she gets away with it." When approached about the nickname in 1936, Dunne admitted that it had grown tiresome but approved if it was meant as "the feminine counterpart of 'gentleman'"; a later interview she did have with the Los Angeles Times would ironically be titled "Irene Dunne, Gentlewoman." She would also be made a Dame (or Lady) of the Order of the Holy Sepulchre. The Los Angeles Times referred to Dunne's publicity in their obituary as trailblazing, noting her as one of the first actors to become a freelancer in Hollywood during its rigid studio system through her "non-exclusive contract that gave her the right to make films at other studios and to decide who should direct them," and her involvement with the United Nations as a decision that allowed entertainers from movies and television to branch out into philanthropy and politics, such as Ronald Reagan and George Murphy.
Dunne later said, "Cary Grant always said that I had the best timing of anybody he ever worked with." Lucille Ball admitted at an American Film Institute seminar that she based her comedic skills on Dunne's performance in Joy of Living. When asked about life after retiring from baseball, Lou Gehrig stated that he would want Dunne as a screen partner if he ever became a movie actor. Charles Boyer described her as "a gracious house," adding, "the best room would be the music room [...] Great music, and the best of good swing, and things by Gershwin would sound there always. The acoustics would be perfect. Guests in this house would be relaxed and happy but they would have to mind their manners." A two-sided marker was erected in Dunne's childhood hometown of Madison in 2006.
Dunne received five Best Actress nominations during her career: for Cimarron (1931), Theodora Goes Wild (1936), The Awful Truth (1937), Love Affair (1939) and I Remember Mama (1948); she was the first actor to lose against the same actor in the same category twice, losing to Best Actress winner Luise Rainer in 1936 and 1937. When asked if she ever resented never winning, Dunne pointed out that the nominees she was up against had strong support, believing that she would never have had a chance, especially when Love Affair was against Gone with the Wind.
However, Dunne was honored numerous times for her philanthropy from Catholic organizations and schools, receiving the University of Notre Dame's Laetare Medal, and the Bellarmine Medal from Bellarmine College. She received numerous honorary doctorates, including from Chicago Musical College (for music), Loyola University and Mount St. Mary's College (both for Law). In 1953, she and her husband were made Lady and Knight of the Holy Sepulchre, respectively. For her film career, she was honored by the Kennedy Center, a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 6440 Hollywood Blvd, and displays in the Warner Bros. Museum and Center for Motion Picture Study.
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themurphyzone · 5 years ago
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104 Words for 104 Days: Advice
This was supposed to be a ficlet, but Stacy’s dialogue just ran away with me. This fic takes place after Tales of the Resistance, so Doofenshmirtz is no longer in jail. 
Candace Flynn dedicated her life to order and justice. She protected her brothers from the nefarious schemes of the Doofenshmirtz family. She led a group of rebels, knew seventy-five ways to disarm Normbots, and served as a beacon of hope in the chaos of dystopian Danville.
And now here she was, willingly breaking several laws of physics in order to satisfy her own selfish whims.
Since it took an enormous amount of power to travel counterclockwise between dimensions, Isabella and the Firestorm Girls could only perform three reconnaissance missions into the Prime Dimension, but the information they brought back was invaluable.
“We’ve scoped out prime counterpart Candace Gertrude Flynn. She’s in the sophomore class at Danville High School,” Isabella reported. “Associates include prime counterparts Stacy Hirano, Jenny Brown, and Jeremy Johnson.
“Don’t use my middle name under any capacity, Isabella,” Candace commanded as she tugged on a denim jacket.
It felt restricting, but it was necessary. Her normal outfit would be considered a violation of the dress code, and she needed to blend in while talking to the other Candace.
“Of course, Commander,” Isabella replied coolly. “Recon suggests catching Prime Candace between 1:30 and 2:00 pm. She typically excuses herself from class in Room 217 and goes to the large window at the end of the second floor corridor to watch the nearby elementary school for her brothers’ activity. Her associates don’t accompany her on these outings.”
“Good,” Candace said. She glanced in a nearby mirror, making sure the black dye completely covered any sign of her natural hair color. Dyeing hair was something she couldn’t do under Doofenshmirtz’s reign. She’d been meaning to experiment with different colors in her minimal spare time.
“Be careful,” Isabella cautioned.
“I won’t compromise anything except the power grid,” Candace replied.
Five minutes later, Baljeet finished the usual safety checks and opened the portal, which opened in the middle of an empty girl’s bathroom.
Buford and Baljeet let out high-pitched shrieks and dove under the desk.
Candace rolled her eyes. Those two were the perfect brains and brawn team, and Candace had witnessed them tear apart a Normbots factory with nothing but a paperclip and a yardstick, but they couldn’t handle the sight of a girl’s bathroom.
“Isabella and Gretchen. Since those two are…temporarily indisposed…can I trust you to man the controls in the meantime?” Candace asked as she stepped through the portal.
Isabella and Gretchen nodded, the portal fizzling out just as the door opened. Candace immediately dropped into a crouch, regretting that she’d left her bo staff behind.
The newcomer wore a bright blue blouse with a matching skirt, so unlike the dull gray and black outfits of Candace’s home dimension. Candace’s finely-tuned senses screamed at the unnaturalness of this world.
Thanks to the recon team, Candace already knew the girl was another version of Stacy Hirano. Horror slowly dawned Stacy’s face, and she let out a shriek. “Do you have any idea how dirty those floors are? Have you never been inside a high school restroom before?”
Candace never felt the need to step foot inside the rebuilt high school, but she didn’t entertain that with a reply. She stood up, quickly rinsing her hands in a nearby sink.
“Trust me, you don’t want germs all over your denim jacket. It’s cute in a 90s-early 2000s teen way,” Stacy explained as she stopped in front of a restroom stall. Instead of going in, she took out a sharpened pencil and examined the stall door. “Ugh, Mandy’s dating Carlos again. This is the third time they’ve gotten back together this month! When’s that girl gonna learn?”
She scrawled a message under a large pink heart with C + J in the middle of it.
Candace felt her cheeks heat up. Her counterpart had no subtlety whatsoever.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” Stacy commented, finishing her message. “What’s your name?”
“Don’t you have class or somewhere to be?” Candace deflected.
Stacy shrugged. “Free period.”
“Fine. It’s…Gertrude,” Candace cursed inwardly, wondering why that was the first thing that popped in her head. A whole sea of false names she could’ve given, and it had to be her embarrassing middle name!
“Gertrude?” Stacy gave her an appraising look. “Funny. The only person I’ve known with that name is Candace.”
Candace grimaced when Stacy circled her, inspecting her disguise more closely. Maybe she’d banked on Stacy’s ditziness a little too much.
“Wait a sec, I know that neck!” Stacy gasped. “Candace, seriously! You really think I wouldn’t recognize my BFF? Though I don’t know if that hair dye is working out for you. I always thought you’d be better off with brown highlights.”
“It’s a disguise,” Candace said, in the most no-nonsense tone she could muster. “I’m from a different dimension. I didn’t get to do whatever normal teenagers do because I was too busy with the Resistance.”
Stacy blinked. “Resistance? Like against a dictator?”
Candace kept her mouth shut, deciding she’d better not give more information that wasn’t pertinent to her mission.
“So you’re like the YA version of Candace?”
Candace gave her a blank look.
Stacy shrugged. “You know, YA? Young adult genre where a clumsy teenage girl leads a ragtag group of misfits against a dystopian government and angsts about a love triangle with her childhood bestie and a mysterious bad boy she doesn’t know very well?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Candace said. “All books except badly written autobiographies about the dictator were banned.”
Stacy grimaced. “Sheesh. That stinks. Not even a fashion magazine?”
Candace shrugged. “No, but that’s life. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go ask my counterpart about her Jeremy Johnson.”
“Probably not the best idea,” Stacy said. “If my Candace figured out you were another version of her, she’d blame her brothers and drag you off to her mom. Then you’ll disappear or get transported elsewhere. You don’t want that.”
“Her mom makes people disappear?” Candace asked, wondering how her recon team could’ve possibly missed that detail.
Stacy shrugged. “Not her mom, really. More like random green laser beams from the sky. They always happen when Candace tries to bust her brothers. But hey, I’d be more than happy to share what I know. Candace and I were best friends since elementary school. I promise I won’t tell her about you.”
The Stacy Hirano of Candace’s dimension usually coordinated supplies between Resistance bases. She didn’t lead from the front like Candace. They cooperated when necessary, but they weren’t nearly as close as these versions of Candace and Stacy.
“You will answer all questions to the best of your ability,” Candace said.
“You don’t need to treat this like an interrogation. Relax a little,” Stacy sighed. “Oh, who am I kidding? You wouldn’t be Candace Flynn if you were relaxed.”
“Alright, Hirano. First question. Why is your Jeremy attracted to Candace?”
Stacy scuffed the tile with her shoe, as if she hadn’t been expecting the question. Well, she should’ve known what she was getting into. “Starting with the loaded topic, huh? Sorry, I was expecting you to ask me about how they met or what they like or something simple like that.”
“I’m not moving to the next question until you answer.”
“Fine. I guess Jeremy likes her determination. Candace hasn’t succeeded in busting her brothers yet, but she’s always willing to try another method. She doesn’t let anything stop her either.”
Determination. Like how she’d been determined to overthrow Doofenshmirtz to create a world where her brothers could grow up peacefully and not have to give up their childhood whims.
“And he doesn’t mind her busting her brothers?”
The Doofenshmirtz family was still out there somewhere. What if they attacked while she was with Jeremy and neglecting her duties? Would Jeremy mind if she rushed off to thwart them?
“She’s always leaving in the middle of dates for busting purposes,” Stacy shrugged. “Jeremy’s pretty chill about it, as far as I know. He knows how much Phineas and Ferb mean to her. They even helped him cheat at a dance competition so he could impress her. Personally I found it a little freaky, but I guess love is a little blind to that sort of thing.”
Candace wasn’t sure about introducing Jeremy to Phineas and Ferb though. It was a big risk if Jeremy ever got captured. But at the same time, she could potentially entrust her brothers to someone else in an emergency. Isabella was a good lieutenant, but Jeremy had years of experience on her.
“Candace crushed on Jeremy since seventh grade. It took a lot of time and courage for her to take the next step,” Stacy said. “With a lot of pushing from me.”
“So you think I just need to have some courage and talk to him?” Candace asked. “Then what was the point of diverting the city’s power to open a portal and spy on you people to catch my counterpart at a good time?”
Suddenly her plan seemed ridiculous in hindsight. And she thought she was pretty good at planning missions.
To her credit, Stacy didn’t seem fazed about Candace spying on her. “I’ve read enough YA novels to know overthrowing dictators is easy for teenage girls. Boys are a different story. And it figures you wouldn’t do the simple thing and make a ridiculously complicated plan instead.”
“You got me there,” Candace admitted.
“So how’s the fashion in your dimension?” Stacy asked, switching topics so abruptly that Candace was caught off guard.
But only for a moment. It probably wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun. Candace began describing Dooferalls, much to Stacy’s growing horror.
Stacy was so revolted she ducked into a bathroom stall and begged Candace not to say anymore. Candace couldn’t help but laugh, even as the portal to her dimension reopened.
Realizing Isabella and the Firestorm Girls were staring, Candace quickly schooled her expression into her usual look of indifference. “Thank you for your help,” Candace said over her shoulder. “I have to go now. Remember to keep this a secret.”
“YOU BURDENED ME WITH THE KNOWLEDGE OF DOOFERALLS!” Stacy screeched back.
The portal closed.
“Baljeet, dismantle the portal tech,” Candace ordered. “Our recon missions into that dimension are finished.”
“Did you find the other Candace?” Isabella asked.
“Not exactly. I talked to Stacy Hirano though. She gave some good advice,” Candace admitted. “Isabella, can I leave you to run a patrol around downtown tomorrow? I want to meet with Jeremy at the park.”
“You can count on me!” Isabella exclaimed.
“Excellent,” Candace said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make.”
She dialed Jeremy’s number, feeling more confidence in leading a normal life than ever before.
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newstfionline · 5 years ago
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Headlines
NYC reopening (AP) New York City hits a key point Monday in trying to rebound from the nation’s deadliest coronavirus outbreak. For the first time in three months, New Yorkers will be able to dine out, though only at outdoor tables. Shoppers can once again browse in the city’s destination stores. Shaggy heads can get haircuts. Cooped-up kids can finally climb playground monkey bars instead of apartment walls. Office workers can return to their desks, though many won’t yet. The virus has been blamed for over 22,000 New York City deaths. The death toll has been in single digits in recent days. Infections are down, but between 200 and 400 people have still been testing positive for the virus each day over the past two weeks, according to city data.
Another shooting in Seattle protest zone leaves 1 wounded (AP) One person was wounded in what was the second shooting in Seattle’s protest zone in less than 48 hours, police said. The shooting happened late Sunday night in the area near Seattle’s downtown that is known as CHOP, for “Capitol Hill Occupied Protest,” police tweeted, adding that one person was at a hospital with a gunshot wound. The Sunday shooting followed a pre-dawn shooting on Saturday in a park within the zone that left a 19-year-old man dead and a 33-year-old man critically injured. The CHOP zone is a several-block area cordoned off by protesters near a police station in the city’s Capitol Hill neighborhood.
With no flights, Argentine sails across Atlantic to see parents (AFP) “Mission accomplished!” That joyful declaration came from Juan Manuel Ballestero, an Argentine sailor who, unable to fly home from Portugal due to the pandemic, crossed the ocean alone in his modest sailboat to see his aging parents. The 47-year-old completed an exhausting 85-day odyssey in his small boat, the nine-meter (30-foot) “Skua.” After testing negative for COVID-19 on arrival, Ballestero was cleared to set foot on dry land to see his mother 82-year-old Nilda and father Carlos, aged 90. “I’ve achieved what I’ve been fighting for these last three months,” he told AFP. “It came down to this: to be with the family. That’s why I came.” Ballestero, who works in Spain, hatched his ambitious plan for a single-handed sea passage after flights back to Argentina were canceled because of the pandemic.
Surprise medical bills (NYT) Last week, my colleague Sarah Kliff noticed something strange. A medical lab in Dallas had charged as much as $2,315 apiece for coronavirus tests, even though a test typically costs $100. Sarah called the lab to ask about the price—and the lab quickly dropped it to $300. In her years of covering health care for Vox and now The Times, Sarah has frequently reported on the arbitrary nature of medical costs, often highlighting extreme examples. After these examples receive public attention, health care providers sometimes reduce the price. Of course, most medical bills don’t become the subject of journalistic investigations. Which means that medical labs, drug companies, hospitals and doctors’ offices are often able to charge high prices to insurance companies and patients, without consequence. “If you look at pretty much any other developed country—Canada, Britain, France, Germany, Singapore, the list goes on—the government does some version of rate setting,” Sarah told us. “The United States doesn’t.” That’s one reason that the cost of health care in the U.S. is higher than in any other country.
Turkey’s lonely tourist attractions face make-or-break week (Reuters) Turkey’s Mediterranean coasts and historic attractions face a critical week as the government presses to open borders and salvage at least part of a tourist season already battered by the coronavirus pandemic. With beaches largely empty and many hotels deciding whether to open, Tourism Minister Mehmet Ersoy told Reuters he hoped the world’s sixth-largest destination could attract up to half of last year’s 45 million arrivals. But much depends on talks to begin flights from Russia, Germany and Britain—also hard hit by the virus—which should reach some conclusions by early next week, he said. The stakes are high for Turkey, where a rebound this month in COVID-19 cases has raised concerns in a country where tourism accounts for up to 12% of the economy. Foreign arrivals fell by two thirds in the first five months of the year.
Virus cases surge in India, US, but slow in China, Korea (AP) The world saw the largest daily increases yet in coronavirus cases, with infections soaring in India’s rural villages after migrant workers fled major cities. India’s coronavirus caseload climbed by nearly 15,000 as of Monday to 425,282, with more than 13,000 deaths, the health ministry reported. Nearly 90% of India’s poorest districts have cases, though the outbreak remains centered in Delhi, Maharashtra and Tamil Nadu states, which are home to major cities. Infections slowed in China and South Korea, suggesting some progress in stemming their newest outbreaks. But despite clear headway in containing the virus in regions that suffered early outbreaks, globally the number of new virus cases has soared in recent days. In Brazil, Iraq, India and the United States, hospitals are scrambling to cope.
China Knocks Out Tyson Imports Following Coronavirus Outbreak (Foreign Policy) China has temporarily suspended the import of poultry products from an Arkansas-based Tyson Foods processing plant after reports of a mass coronavirus outbreak at the company’s processing facilities. Tyson is the second largest chicken processor in the world with chicken sales of $13.1 billion (out of total sales of $42.4 billion) in 2019. The World Health Organization says there is no evidence that a person can contract the coronavirus from food or food packaging, but Chinese authorities—chastened by a recent outbreak at a Beijing food market—seem to be taking a hard line. China-based experts have floated the possibility that any more problems with U.S. food exporters could lead to a dissolution of the trade deal on natural disaster grounds—and an end to $36.5 billion in agricultural products that China must buy from the United States as part of the agreement.
Australia Fears Second Wave as State Tightens Virus Controls (Bloomberg) Australia’s second-most populous state has tightened coronavirus controls as a spike in cases triggers fears the nation could be hit by a second wave of infections. Victoria extended a state of emergency by four weeks to July 20, halved the number of visitors allowed in homes to 5 and delayed a planned increase in the size of gatherings in cafes, restaurants and pubs. The weekend announcement, and a jump in cases in countries including the U.S., Israel and South Korea, heightened market concerns about the difficulty of reviving economic growth while controlling the spread of Covid-19.
As Lebanon sinks into crisis, fear of crime grows (Reuters) A financial crisis that has swept Lebanon since last year means more and more families have little means to cope as the currency collapses and the state offers little or no help. The country faces what is seen as the biggest threat to its stability since the 1975-1990 civil war. In the first four months of 2020, murders in Lebanon doubled from the same period last year. Car thefts jumped nearly 50% and burglaries 20%, according to a report by the Beirut-based research firm Information International, based on police data. As the currency plunges, more unrest is feared in a country with a tumultuous history and where sectarian tensions are never far from the surface. As the currency plunges, more unrest is feared in a country with a tumultuous history and where sectarian tensions are never far from the surface. A World Food Programme report this month found that 50% of Lebanese, as well as 63% of Palestinians and 75% of Syrians in the country, had feared they would not have enough to eat over the past month. A security official linked spiralling prices to what he described as friction in the streets. “We’re still at the start, it’s only going to get bigger,” he said.
Dubai set to reopen for tourism, allow residents to travel (Washington Post) Dubai authorities announced late Sunday that the city would once again be allowing in tourists—with a negative coronavirus test result—starting July 7. Residents will also be allowed to travel again starting Monday. The new travel rules for Dubai, a wealthy Persian Gulf emirate known for its soaring skyscrapers, luxury hotels and beaches, reflects the importance of tourism to the economy. Unlike United Arab Emirates capital Abu Dhabi, Dubai does not have oil and its economy relies significantly on international travel and tourism. In 2019, more than 16 million tourists visited Dubai. The hotels, restaurants and other facilities catering to visitors have been desolate since a ban in late March on all arrivals except citizens. Even residency-visa holders—some 90 percent of the population—were not permitted to return to the country until just recently.
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