#partly because like it’s not actually back and forth and there’s like 5 or less mins between each response so something easily could have | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rigelmejo · 3 years

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fyi if anyone besides me IS trying out the Listening Reading Method - I have some tips you can read if you want (or feel free to ignore):

you should see significant progress within 30 hours. If you started as an absolute beginner, did what the guide suggests beforehand (learned some common words like a few hundred, looked at a pronunciation guide, looked at a basic grammar summary), then you should see SOME progress. If after 30 hours you don’t see any - you might be doing it wrong (or its not a method that works for you in which case don’t feel u need to waste ur time on it when other stuff might help you more). (http://users.bestweb.net/~siom/martian_mountain/!%20L-R%20the%20most%20important%20passages.htm)

Someone did L R Method as an absolute beginner in Italian (they already knew french, english). They took tests - were A1 when they started L R Method. They did about 30 hours of L R Method. They took a test again and scored B1. So 30 hours should see SIGNIFICANT progress for a language reasonably close to yours, and SOME clear progress I’d imagine even if it’s a less common language (even some gains from absolute beginner to A1-A2 would be solid and noticeable). (https://forum.language-learners.org/viewtopic.php?f=15&t=1721&p=99415#p99415)

Someone tried to L R Method mandarin as a proof of concept. So they only did several hours, and used The Little Prince (which is much simpler writing/language than the L R Method article recommends using). This is their results: “I tried Mandarin LR as a proof of concept a while ago. I used "The Little Prince", and did a few hours. The first couple of hours were exhausting and I was usually lost; by the end, I was associating quite a few characters with their sounds, occasionally understanding sentences in real time as I read along (knowing what parts corresponded) of up to 7 characters or so, etc. Again, this was a small handful of hours, as an effectively zero-beginner; I know some Kanji, but my active Mandarin vocabulary was probably in the single digits... I think this was after I'd studied tones/Mandarin phonology relatively intensively, but I don't recall for certain.” So - within a handful of hours, someone saw language improvement in Mandarin as a total beginner (http://how-to-learn-any-language.com/forum/forum_posts.asp?TID=38593)

I personally have been trying L R Method as a beginner-intermediate ish learner. What I noticed: without a parallel text (so just using english text for step 3) I improved listening comprehension of words I already partly knew (through reading) FIRST. I also picked up some new words, but listening comprehension of words I knew improved most noticeably the first 10ish hours I did L R Method. Using Pleco’s dictation tool for step 3 (so instead of english text, I use chinese text where the english definition auto-pops up as the audio reads each word), or using a parallel text (so chinese and english visible at same time), both VASTLY improved how many new words I pick up per session. For me at least, seeing the chinese text to keep my place in the audio, and seeing easier what audio matches to what english definition, lets me learn new words faster. Since I waste much less effort trying to just keep the text/audio matched up.

So if the effort of matching up text is draining to you (like it is to me), I recommend: getting an audiobook and chinese text that match as closely as possible. And getting either a parallel text, or using Pleco’s dictation tool in the Reader, or something similar (Pleco’s dictation tool is a lot like using a word by word chinese/english translated text).

Step 2 seems very useful for: giving you context prior to step 3, practicing reading comprehension and reading speed, listening practice with the chinese(target language) spelling visible, and reinforcing what’s learned in prior step 3′s.

Step 3 does seem useful the more you repeat it (I’m just lazy).

Test yourself by trying to LISTEN ONLY every once in a while. You should be noticing some improvements in your listening comprehension - the audiobook chapters you should follow more parts, a show without subtitles you might recognize more dialogue, etc. If your listening comprehension itself is not improving to some noticeable degree after 10+ hours of L R Method you may either be doing L R Method wrong, or its just not useful for you.

To see considerable progress in language abilities, it may take 50-100 hours. Or even 100-300. The article linked above, the person who does L R Method (aYa) would usually do at least 30 hours, then 50-100 for a language - eventually also doing step 4 shadowing, step 5 translating back and forth. For less-closely related languages, people mention having done it for a few hundred hours. So do NOT expect total beginner to Fluent in 30 hours. I simply mean, you should expect noticeable progress after some X milestones. After a dozen or so hours you should be able to start recognizing word boundaries with ease, some short phrases. If you’re not a total-beginner, but beginner-intermediate like me, then you should start notice much BETTER listening comprehension of words you already half-knew from reading within a few dozen hours. Then after 30-50, maybe some dialogue understanding, some common words regularly understood, etc. Again - test yourself with Listening-Only every once in a while to see if you’re actually making any progress. Also to see if you wanna ‘alter’ the L R Method to suit your needs better. Maybe you’ll find a way to do it that works better for you.

For ABSOLUTE beginners, especially in languages very different from their own, at the beginning stages simply using sentences with audio may be easier. To perhaps learn a few hundred to thousand common words first - and/or using translations that are word BY word translation right under the target language word. To help with getting used to the grammar, all the new common words, the sounds etc. So materials like Assimil probably do this - Spoonfed Chinese anki deck with its audio/text does this, Nukemarine’s LLJ audio/text deck does this, Japanese Core 2k with its audio/text does this, etc. Clozemaster app might even be a nice beginner transition tool...

For the L R Method steps - really READ them and understand what they mean. Step 3 is NOT watching a target language audio movie with english subs. It is trying to comprehend all of the audio, glancing at the translation JUST to fill in the gaps for parts you can’t manage to comprehend (so for looking up words here and there). While you’re supposed to ‘follow along’ with the translation text, you do NOT tune out the audio. The audio should be your main focus, keeping in line with the translation text is so you can REFERENCE it when you hear a word/phrase/sentence you don’t fully comprehend. And I am guessing step 3 is suggested to be done multiple times so that each time you need the translation less.

L R Method works best with very vocabulary rich, long texts. If you use a simple text, or a short one (3 hours of audio for example), there’s only so much you’ll be able to learn from it. For example The Little Prince only has a vocabulary of 2000-3000 unique words, 1200ish hanzi in it - so even if you learned it entirely, repeating it over and over, that’s not a lot of info. Particularly if you don’t plan to repeat things, it’s probably going to serve your time better to pick rich vocabulary long texts (so you can pick up tons of words just through one pass through the book, and if you choose to repeat the book, pick up tons more words, before you start running into the rarely used words which will be harder to pick up).

I am mentioning all this, because I saw someone who did L R method for mandarin for hundreds of hours, and does not have natural listening yet - so cannot follow a new audiobook listening-only, cannot follow a show listening-only. Considering that people have demonstrated they made some progress in 5-10 hours for Mandarin, and 30 hours for Italian, then 300 hours in Mandarin might be able to make more progress. I’ve done maybe 20-30 hours of L R Method so far, and already find I can now listen to at Least the audiobook of the book I’m L R Method-ing now without the text, and follow the main scenes fine. With simpler audio, if I have a visual cue (like acting scenes, or pictures) I find I can follow the main idea much easier than I could before. So I just think... if you are seeing very little noticeable progress after 30-50 hours, the method may not be giving you benefits as quickly as you might want a study method to show improvements. I think if something isn’t giving you some improvement after X effort, you don’t need to stick with it if something else helps you more.

Other factors that may affect this:

I had some reading basis before I started L R Method. This might have helped me as far as how fast a rate L R Method is helping my progress. For an example: when I simply do step 2 ON ITS OWN I see improvements - because it helps me read through a chapter as fast as the audio, matches audio to the spelling I might already know, and I already can understand enough when reading at that speed to follow the general plot (so step 2 gives me context and increased plot understanding). Therefore, when I do step 3, I can really primarily put my attention on learning to recognize the SOUND of what I already understood - and on learning a few new keywords I already JUST saw and realized I didn’t know. Basically I can use L R Method to quickly pinpoint areas I’m weaker in, while practicing what I can already do. A total beginner won’t have the ‘practice what they already know’ benefit. (Genuinely though step 2 is helping my reading SO much and I know that’s in part due to my current reading comprehension level).

Also I have seen an example of someone who did L R Method while already B2 in Italian - he was aiming for C1. He noticed less drastic improvement after 40 hours - he did still notice some, like easier listening comprehension for shows and conversations. But he did not reach C1 listening/reading skills. So from this we see: L R Method might help you improve faster if you start off with more you still need to learn (which makes sense, since as the words you need to learn get rarer you will run into them less frequently in L R Method). Also, the gap from B2-C1 may be bigger than the gap from A1-B1? Also what I took from his example, is repeating step 3 multiple times becomes MORE important as you’re more intermediate-advanced. I would guess because you probably have less frequently occurring words/grammar to learn, so repeating content WITH those things in it is a way to get more exposure (whereas just going over it once then moving on is Not going to expose you to it much). Also step 3, if you really look away from the transcript for most of it, allows you to really practice listening comprehension. Also shadowing/translating, steps 4 and 5, may be of more benefit to an intermediate-advanced learner. Since shadowing may be doable for them now, and translation may be doable (and hone in on skills more). So... I would guess either the gap you have to bridge as an intermediate-advanced learner is bigger, and/or you just need to do more challenging aspects of L R Method to get similar frequency of benefits you would’ve saw at the beginning stages.

#l r method #listening reading method #rant #............................................................................................#basically just... its fun? i love it? its working great for me?#but if i had to wait 100 hours to see even a little improvement id think i was doing it wrong #or that it didnt help me #and if u try it. i think testing ur progress every 10-30 hours is a good #gauge to see if its helping you in any noticeable way

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quickspinner · 4 years

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Beautiful Dreams - Ch 4 Beautiful Dreamer

The hard part, he thought, was over; the cards were on the table, he’d asked her out and she’d agreed. Even so, Luka suffered from an annoying lack of chill for the rest of the week. He kept it together for his students, but outside of work, he was nervous, jittery to a degree that was both embarrassing and frustrating. The days, which had been slipping past without much notice from Luka, were suddenly crawling by.

Luka found himself picking up his guitar more and more, trying to work out his feelings, or at least his nerves, through his music. He wasn’t entirely unsuccessful; he had most of a new song written, and when he sent a demo of his progress to the rest of the band the feedback was positive—more enthusiastically positive than it had been for any of his recent compositions, actually. Not that the feedback had been bad before, but the difference was noticeable. He made a mental note to revisit that with his bandmates later.

At least something good came out of his distraction.

He cleaned his apartment, he organized his student files and his cabinet of inspiration music, and realized he hadn’t added to it in some time. That made him feel a little guilty. Luka usually tried to let his students pick their own music but he liked to have a variety of ideas on hand when they got stuck or needed a change. He hadn’t refreshed or even rotated the collection in months.

Once that injustice had been rectified he was kind of out of productive uses for his energy. He played until his fingers were sore, he worked out until his arms felt like noodles and he thought another pushup might kill him, and when he couldn’t take it anymore, Luka picked up takeout and went over to bug Juleka and Rose and cuddle the baby.

“You’re pathetic,” Juleka told him, her normal deadpan tones colored with fond amusement as she watched him, stretched out on her living room floor, playing with Angelique’s little hands and making silly faces at her while she lay on a blanket and blinked up at him.

“Believe me, I know,” Luka said, smooching tiny fingers. “But I brought you dinner and it’s your favorite, so try not to give me too hard of a time over it.”

“Mm.”

Luka grunted as Juleka stepped on him on her way to the kitchen. “Don’t grow up to be mean like Mama J,” he whispered to Angie. “Be sweet like Mama Rose, okay?”

“You know...I’m actually glad you’re nervous.”

Luka rolled to his side and looked back to find Juleka had paused. He noted with amusement her perfect modelesque three-quarter turn and over the shoulder look. “I thought I was embarrassing,” he said, propping his cheek on his fist.

“You’re always embarrassing,” Juleka agreed. “Even so. I’m glad you’re nervous. I’m glad you care enough to be nervous.”

Luka looked down at the carpet, tickling Angie’s toes. “It’s been a rough year,” he agreed quietly.

“Rose and I have been really worried about you,” Juleka sighed, turning around to face him fully and folding her arms. “We’re still worried about you, honestly. You’ve always been all about going with the flow but you’ve been taking it to an extreme for a while now. You don’t go out anymore except to come here. You don’t seem excited about anything anymore. You have good days every now and then but...it just makes me really happy to see that you care about this enough to be nervous. That’s all.”

Luka felt a stab of guilt that made it hard to meet Juleka’s eyes. She’d had so much to deal with, and he hated to be a burden for her.

She turned quickly and headed into the kitchen before he could say anything. Luka sighed and laid his head down on the carpet, letting Angie’s hand curl around his index finger. “Okay,” he breathed. “You can grow up a little bit like Mama Jules.”

***

The sun had mostly set and the lights of Paris were beginning to shine as Luka met Marinette in front of the Louvre. She was waiting for him by one of the fountains, staring into the foaming water rising from the middle. The fact that she was there eased at least some of the nervous energy fizzing under his skin. Luka had been a little afraid she would bail on him. Marinette didn’t answer when he called her name and jolted when he touched her arm.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, sliding his fingers down her arm to take her hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I didn’t, um, I was just—just thinking,” she said, shuffling her feet and not meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so distracted, uh…”

“You were thinking or you were worrying?” Luka asked gently, ducking his head slightly to get a better look at her expression. “Marinette, if you don’t want to do this, or you’re not ready, or anything at all—”

“No,” she said quickly, finally meeting his gaze. “No, I...I want to. I want this.” Her fingers tightened on his, almost painfully. “I just...don’t want to mess up.”

Luka laughed, shaking his head. “It’s not a test,” he teased, tugging her hand lightly. “If you’re worried about impressing me, Marinette, here’s a hint.” He leaned down a little and grinned. “I’m already impressed.”

She squeaked and blushed and Luka chuckled. “Do you want to go inside?” he asked, “Or would you rather watch the fountain a little more?”

“Oh, no, we can—we can go inside, I was just, I mean, it’s pretty at night and—”

“You’re allowed to enjoy the fountain, Marinette. We can stay here and watch it all night if you want.”

“No, really, I’m done,” she sighed, turning away from the fountain and facing him fully. “I’m ready.”

Luka smiled and stepped back, still holding her hand. “Then shall we?”

Marinette broke into a genuine smile, and followed his gentle pull.

It was late enough that the tourist crowds had gone to seek out the Paris nightlife, and the museum itself was relatively calm.

“What would you like to see?” Luka asked once they were through the door and strolling through the wide halls. “Musée de la Mode, or have you been over that more times than you can count already?”

“I have,” Marinette admitted. “But honestly, I never get tired of it. I find new inspiration every time I go. Just breathing the history here is inspiring.”

History smelled a lot like tourists to Luka, but he just smiled. “Do you want to do that, then?”

“Wouldn’t you be bored? Isn’t there anywhere you want to go?” Marinette asked, looking up at him.

Luka shrugged. “I mostly just like to wander and see where I end up. It’s not hard to find things to appreciate here, and it’s actually been a really long time since I last came.”

“That’s true,” Marinette agreed. “I love it here.”

“And to tell you the truth,” he continued, “I find the passion of other creators inspiring all on its own. So why don’t we go see the Musée de la Mode if that’s what you want to do, and you can be my guide and explain to me what I’m seeing. My sister modeled for years until she retired to become a talent coach, so I’m not completely stupid on the subject, but I still know next to nothing about the artistry behind it, so I’d love your perspective.”

She smiled shyly at him. “Okay.”

They made their way to the correct wing, and after only a nudge or two from Luka, Marinette forgot her self-consciousness. She was beautiful in her enthusiasm, animated and glowing with repressed excitement as she got into her subject. The conversation was actually less one-sided than he expected. Fashion and music were both influenced by their historical and political context, and Marinette seemed interested in what he had to share as they talked about the various time periods. He blundered into one or two stupid questions but he actually didn’t mind looking a little silly when it made her laugh like that. As it turned out, the museum had recently begun their latest temporary exhibit, so there were several things that Marinette hadn’t seen. She fell silent as she examined the new pieces, but her alert curiosity was just as interesting to him, and Luka waited patiently each time until she was ready to move on—more and more reluctantly each time, it seemed.

The next time she got caught up in a piece, Luka touched her arm. “Do you want to stop here for a little bit?”

Marinette turned wide eyes up at him. “Oh...no, no, that’s okay, um...I can...some other time or something, I can come back—”

“Marinette,” Luka said, shaking his head slightly with a smile. “We’re in no hurry. We’re just here to have fun. There’s no schedule. If you want to sit down for a minute and just take something in, that’s cool. I don’t mind. Especially if something’s inspiring you, I don’t want you to rush through that just to accommodate me. Shall we sit down?”

Marinette hovered, looking a bit like a deer in the headlines, suspended in indecision. Luka felt a pang in his heart for her. “There’s no schedule,” he repeated. “Just you and me. We can stay here and look at this one piece until closing if you like, it’d be fine with me. You’ve taught me a lot and I wouldn’t mind taking a breather just to let everything sink in.”

That seemed to tip her. “You’re sure you don’t mind?” she asked weakly.

“I don’t mind at all.” Luka turned and sat on a nearby bench. “See? This is fine. I’ll just relax here for a minute, you look as long as you want.”

They spent the rest of the visit lingering in that one small area, Marinette hovering back and forth between a few pieces, and occasionally coming back to the bench to sit down and sketch something in a small notebook she had in her purse, talking distractedly to him about her thoughts and ideas. Luka didn’t understand more than half of it, partly because his knowledge of fashion and its terms was still pretty lacking and partly because Marinette frequently interrupted herself, changing direction mid-sentence. Luka didn’t mind; he found her creative process as fascinating as the art around him and his heart leaped every time she touched him without thinking, her hand catching his arm or pressing his knee when she was struck by a new idea.

Luka tried to be useful, to ask helpful questions when she wavered and give opinions only when she asked him, to not get caught staring at the way she pursed her lips and scrunched her nose when she was concentrating or the bounce in her step when she ran back to look at some piece or another that she wanted another look at.

“I hate to say this,” he murmured finally, keeping his voice low to avoid startling her as he leaned one arm on the bench behind her. “But they’re going to be closing soon. Best wrap up if you can.”

Marinette’s head shot up and she looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Oh, I—I didn’t realize I was spending so much time—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted her, unable to resist reaching up to slide a stray lock of hair back from her cheek and over her ear and pleased by the way she blushed at his touch. “I didn’t mind it, honestly, I’m really enjoying myself actually. I just don’t want you to get caught in the middle of something, so go ahead and get to a stopping place if you can.”

Marinette bit her lip and looked down. “I’m...really enjoying this too. It’s been a long time since someone had time to listen to me ramble who wasn’t paid to, and you’re a good person to bounce ideas off of. Thank you. Sorry for taking up so much time though.”

“If I’m having fun and you’re having fun I don’t see that there’s much to apologize for,” Luka chuckled. “I wouldn’t object to spending more time with you, though...would you like to take a walk when we’re done here?”

“Yeah,” Marinette said, a shy but happy smile spreading over her face. “I’d really like that, Luka.”

Her cheeks pinked at the slow smile that spread over his face in response. “Then finish up,” he said, “and we’ll take a walk. We’ve still got about half an hour before they come to kick us out.”

She turned back to her paper and Luka tried to use the time to get himself together. She was too cute and whatever tiny chance there had been that going out with her would cure his infatuation was rapidly diminishing.

***

They stopped to get crêpes from a street vendor and ate them on a bench by the fountain Marinette had been admiring previously. Marinette seemed deep in thought, still immersed, he suspected, in whatever inspiration she’d found in the museum, so Luka stayed quiet, though he was itching to know what was going on in her head.

He was watching her absently lick the last bit of cream off her lip when she shook her head slightly, and as she looked up and smiled at him he felt her come back to the moment and smiled back.

“Shall we walk?” he asked, before she could apologize again, and offered his arm once they’d tossed their trash. “You found your calling early, didn’t you?” Luka asked as they began to walk. “Did you go to school for it too?”

The night was brisk but not uncomfortable, and as clear a night as Paris ever got. School seemed to be a comfortable subject, long enough ago for both of them not to bring on too many painful memories, and they swapped stories as they strolled along.

They broke off to listen as they approached a set of street musicians, a small group playing instruments as a man and a woman sang.

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” Marinette breathed. “It’s not in French, though, is it? I wish I could understand it.”

“It’s Italian,” Luka told her. He concentrated for a moment, listening. “It’s about someone who thought they’d given up on finding love, but now they’ve met someone and those feelings are coming back.”

“You speak Italian?” she whispered to him as the instruments took over.

“Music terminology’s almost all in Italian,” he shrugged. “And I needed a language requirement for my degree anyway, so it seemed like the natural choice. I speak some Scots and some English too, but I got those mostly from my mom and dad, not formal training. Would you like to dance?”

“Oh, I—“ Marinette looked around. One or two couples were swaying together. “Um, s-sure?”

“That sounds like a no, Marinette.” He nudged her lightly with his shoulder. “It’s okay, we don’t have to. We can listen for a bit and then move on if you like.”

She smiled up at him weakly. “I’m kind of terrible at this, aren’t I? First I lecture you, and then I ignore you, and everything I say has you wondering if I really want to be here.”

“You’re kind of out of practice,” Luka chuckled, reaching to catch another stray bit of hair that the wind was whipping across her face and tuck it behind her ear. “That’s okay. But I’d rather you didn’t agree to things you’d rather not do just to make me happy. If you don’t want to do something or don’t like something we’re doing, I wish you’d just tell me.”

Marinette sighed, and gave him an apologetic smile. “You’re right. I’ll do better. Um, no, thank you, as much as the idea of dancing is appealing, the reality of it in my case...well. I’m kind of a klutz and I have two left feet and I prefer to dance in places where I’m not going to draw so much attention.”

Luka grinned. “See? Not so bad, was it?”

“It was a little bad,” Marinette pouted. “You’re probably an amazing dancer.”

Luka snorted. “I’m an average dancer,” he corrected her with a grin. “Off the stage, I have good rhythm but no style, as my sister frequently tells me. You’re probably used to all kinds of fancy moves and aside from a few Scottish reels that would not go at all with an Italian love song, all I can do is a good old-fashioned sway-in-a-circle slow dance.” They both laughed.

“It would be amazing to dance like that after years of being critiqued after ever stupid party and social function and—” she cut herself off and shook her head briskly and said, “You know what? I think a good old-fashioned sway-in-a-circle slow dance sounds amazing. Will you dance with me, Luka?”

“I’d love to,” he chuckled, stepping towards her and lifting his hands to her waist as she put hers on his shoulders. Just as they came together, the singers hit a final, long note, and the song was over. Luka and Marinette looked at each other, and both broke down laughing, leaning on each other for a moment before slowly separating. “Maybe we should just keep walking,” Luka suggested, still laughing as he took her hands. “Shall we?”

“Please,” Marinette grinned up at him, eyes sparkling as she squeezed his hands, and his eyes fell to her lips shimmering pink in the light from the streetlamps. He took a deep breath and dropped one hand, tugging her gently into place beside him with the other as he angled their walk towards Pont Neuf.

***

“I don’t have anything against digital music,” Luka protested, as they strolled beneath the trees of the Square du Vert-Galant where it jutted out into the Seine. “The computer can be an instrument just like anything else in the hands of an actual musician, but XY, he’s just...his music is just so tired and unoriginal. It’s like he’s not even trying. Maybe sometimes he comes up with things that aren’t painful to listen to, but even his good stuff doesn’t have any soul. I’d never judge anybody for making money with their music, but I question whether he does it for any reason but money.”

“It’s true, his music is very…” Marinette wrinkled her nose. “Bland. Heartless is a good way to put it.”

“I’m glad we agree,” Luka grinned at her as they paused at the point of the triangular walkway, where the Seine surrounded them. He nodded at the river. “I grew up on a houseboat on the Seine,” he said. “Coming down here is kind of like coming home.”

“Do you miss it?” Marinette asked.

“Sometimes,” he sighed. “It was cramped and it was messy and nothing was ever where you left it because the wind would pick up and rock the ship juuuust enough to roll stuff under the furniture. Sometimes my friends would get seasick when they visited, and we were always stepping all over each other, but...it was home, you know? Do you miss the bakery?”

“Sometimes,” she echoed back to him, and they shared a smile. “It was too warm, and my parents were always working and sometimes there were days when I didn’t want to be nice to everybody but I had to because we couldn’t offend a customer. And whenever Papa wasn’t paying attention and burned something it took forever for the smell to go away.” She shrugged. “But sometimes, the smell of fresh bread makes me tear up a little bit, you know?”

“The Seine doesn’t smell as good as bread,” he chuckled. “But I know exactly what you mean.” He took a breath, and sang lightly, “I’ve been walking, walking these shores all my days.” He grinned at her as he finished, “But with you by my side I am walking on the waves.”

Marinette giggled, covering her mouth at the girlish sound. Luka just grinned wider and looked back to the river.

“Do you have a song for everything?” she asked, bumping against him lightly.

Luka shrugged, pleased that she felt comfortable enough to tease him. “I’m a collector, I guess. There’s always memories in music for me.” He took a deep breath of the cold wind coming off the river and was hit by a wave of nostalgia. “My love is like a red red rose, that’s newly sprung in June,” he sang softly. “My love is like a melody that’s sweetly played in tune.” He sighed, and Marinette squeezed his arm. He looked at her and smiled softly. “As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,” he sang, “How deep in love am I…” He reached out and tucked that loose strand of hair behind her ear again. “And I will love thee still my dear, till all the seas run dry.”

Marinette blushed and looked away. Luka started them slowly walking again, turning his back to the river. “I still can’t sing the second verse,” he said. “The narrator goes far away, but swears they’ll come back.” He swallowed, looking away. “But she’s not coming back, no matter how much I wish she would.” He smiled ruefully at her. “I guess being down here reminds me of her. God, sorry, you’d think I’d be past it by now, but...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

“You didn’t,” Marinette smiled, nudging him with her arm. “And I don’t think it’s something you get over, not completely. You can’t put a timeline on that kind of grief.” She sighed. “I think it’s beautiful that you loved her so much. I’m really close with my parents too, always have been. I can’t imagine losing them. I know it’s not something I’d get past easily.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked, as another chill breeze swept through. “We can go somewhere else if the wind is too much.”

“No, this is good,” she said, snuggling into his arm a little. Then she seemed to realize what she was doing and straightened. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be, not on my account.” He slipped his arm around her waist and tugged her gently into his side, but kept his hold loose and easily broken. “I didn’t ask you out because I wanted you to keep your distance. I’m happy if you’re comfortable being close to me.”

Marinette looked down. “I still think you could do better.”

Luka stopped walking and faced her. “Marinette, when you say you aren’t special it just makes me want to show you even more that you are.”

She went from pink to red. “But—”

“No, no, turn it around,” he chuckled. “I’ve been on maybe three dates in the last year, all firsts, and all pretty much to get my sister off my back. You’re the first person I’ve actually wanted to spend time with in forever. Not only that, you’re a business executive and a famous fashion designer with an international brand. I’m just a musician, and not a very ambitious one at that. I like playing small venues and I like teaching my students. No plans for stardom here.” Luka spread his arms a little, as if inviting her to check him for hidden ambitions.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Marinette said earnestly, surprising him a little. “There’s a lot to be said for doing what you love and not letting money twist it into something you didn’t mean it to be.”

Luka let his hands fall and put his arm back around her waist, starting them walking again. They walked in silence for a moment before Marinette spoke again. “It used to be my greatest dream to work for Gabriel,” she said wistfully. “But I never thought I’d be there forever, you know? It was always just the first step.”

“What’s the next step?” Luka asked curiously.

“Apparently there isn’t one,” Marinette said bitterly, and then sighed, hanging her head a little. “I can’t leave,” she said quietly. “There’s no one else to step up and take my place as head designer. Gabriel’s stocks took a huge hit during the divorce because everybody assumed I would quit. There’s other designers but no one with the kind of understanding I have of Gabriel’s customers, and no one the shareholders would trust because I was trained by Gabriel Agreste himself in his vision.”

“What about your vision?” Luka asked, squeezing her lightly, and Marinette scoffed.

“Gabriel made it clear a long time ago that, much as he respected my talent, he had no room for my vision. Customers want a consistent, unified approach, classic with just enough innovation to keep things fresh, but not so much that they think it’s too risky.”

Luka frowned. “Gabriel’s gone, though. I mean, I don’t know anything about fashion and not a whole lot more about business, but shouldn’t you be able to take the company any direction you want?”

Marinette shook her head sadly, staring at the ground. “His legacy remains, and Adrien wants to keep it that way.”

Luka bit back something impolite. He’d long since given up Adrien’s dad as not worth thinking about, but he couldn’t help feeling a sudden flash of annoyance at his friend. How stupid could you be, to put someone with Marinette’s passion and creativity inside a box like that and insist she stay there for—what? Loyalty to a man who had treated his son like dirt, or worse, like nothing more than a company asset, his whole life?

“If you could do anything you wanted,” he said, genuinely curious, “What would you do?”

“I’d start my own brand from the ground up,” Marinette said immediately. “I know it sounds stupid, but I’d go back to working in my home on commission and I’d start from scratch. Build my business the way I want it. Build a brand with my name on it and not Gabriel’s.” She sighed. “Maybe it’d never be as big...it’s kind of a late start after all. But at least it would be mine.”

Luka smiled. “It doesn’t sound stupid at all. Maybe I haven’t known you all that long but I feel like I know you well enough to say you’re an independent type of person. I can see how having something that’s yours and building it yourself would appeal to you.”

“Most people would give a limb to have the kind of boost early on that I did,” Marinette snorted softly. “To throw away all that, it’s...it’s crazy.”

“You didn’t do it for the boost, though,” Luka replied, finding it hard to keep from pulling her closer. “You did it because you loved Adrien and that was the price of being with him. Why would you think less of yourself for that?”

“Because I—” Marinette burst out, and then paused, and lowered her voice, and Luka felt a pang. He’d seen Adrien do exactly the same sort of thing. “Because I ought to be grateful, instead of resenting it. Anyone else would have been ecstatic.”

“Maybe,” Luka conceded. “But no one who felt that way would have loved Adrien as honestly as you did.” He sighed. “I feel bad for Adrien, I feel bad that he got dealt such a shit hand with his family. I feel bad that it seems like he couldn’t let go even after Gabriel died. I feel bad for him that all that cost him someone like you. And I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be showing you a good time, and instead we’re stuck on depressing things.”

Marinette smiled. “Maybe you should sing for me again.”

Luka’s grin was mischievous. “Maybe I should. Beautiful dreamer,” he sang, and Marinette groaned. “Wake unto me…”

“Luka!” Marinette whined over him as he continued, trying to control his laughter. Marinette turned away from him, folded her arms and pouted.

“Beautiful dreamer,” he sang, reaching for her hands. Turning her back towards him and leaning close, he locked eyes with her, voice going from teasing to earnest. “Queen of my song, list while I woo thee with soft melody.” Marinette blushed. “Gone are the cares of life’s busy throng,” he leaned closer, eyes on her lips. Her eyes widened and her breath quickened. “Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me.” He changed course quickly and kissed high on her cheek. He laughed as Marinette blushed and spluttered, and then she shoved him hard with both hands, making him stagger.

“This is so unfair,” she hissed. “I’m such a disaster and you’re so smooth and cool and calm—“

Luka caught her wrist and pulled gently. “Come here, dreamer.” He pulled her forward gently until he could lay her hand on his pounding heart. Her eyes widened slightly as he covered her hand with his own and laced his fingers through hers to hold her there. “It’s been doing that since we met,” he told her softly. “I’m crazy about you, Marinette, and I am nowhere close to calm.” Luka watched her lips part in surprise, saw her gaze darken. He didn’t even realize he was leaning in until her free hand slipped behind his neck and her face tilted up to meet him. He held her eyes until just before he slowly, softly pressed his mouth to hers, deepening it when she pressed closer to him. She made a helpless noise in her throat and pushed up on her toes as he wrapped his arm around her waist. When she didn’t pull away he grew bolder, nipping lightly at her lower lip and dipping his tongue into her mouth when she gasped. It felt so good, the way she clung to him, so warm and alive and moving in sync with him like they were made for each other. Her hand moved from his hair to his face, down his neck and across his shoulder, around to his back, the roving of her fingers as intoxicating as the movement of her mouth against his. His own hand ached to wander but he kept it firmly planted against her lower back, pressing her into him.

When her lips left his, he didn’t open his eyes right away, taking a moment to breathe. Beneath their hands his heart was beating even harder than before, if that was possible, and he felt her fingers flex against him as she sank back until her heels were on the ground once more.

When he did finally look, her cheeks were turning a deep pink that matched her sweet lips, and he could see the panic slowly growing in her eyes. He bent and kissed her again, softly this time, reassuring. “That was amazing,” he murmured, nuzzling her cheek. “Don’t be upset, Marinette, please. We can go as slow as you need to, baby, okay? You’re all right. I’ve got you.” He let go of her to move his hands to her arms and rubbed up and down gently. She let out a shaky breath, and leaned into him. Luka folded her into his arms, shifting his rubbing to her back. After a minute, she raised her face, nose nudging his shyly, and he obliged her with more soft, affectionate kisses.

Eventually she grew brave enough to kiss him, to shyly taste his lips and explore his mouth. He kept her wrapped up tight and safe and let her set the pace, enjoying the different kind of torture her painfully, deliciously slow escalation played on his deprived body.

At last she pulled away from his lips, panting lightly, pushing against his chest until he loosened his arms around her. “I think, um...I think I need to stop.”

“Okay,” he said, nuzzling her jaw and leaving one last soft kiss at the hinge. “You want me to take you home?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see you again, Marinette?” he asked, a little nervously. Maybe this had all been too much for her, maybe she really wasn’t ready, and what was he going to do if that were so? He was already in so deep…

“Yes, please,” she said, burying her face in his neck. “Soon.”

Relief made him weak, and he was glad to hold onto the rail when they went down the stairs of the metro station. Once again he felt like a stupid teenager, giddy to be holding hands and leaning on each other on the ride back to Marinette’s home. As he was walking her up the stairs to her apartment, something else occurred to him.

“What do you want to do about Louis? It’s your call, of course, but if we’re going to do this again, I feel like we should talk to him,” Luka said, caressing her knuckles absently with his thumb.

“Yes, I was thinking that too,” sighed Marinette. “I know he’s already figured out something’s going on. He’s very perceptive, and well…” she gestured to her pink cheeks. “I’m not exactly subtle.”

“You’re perfect,” Luka smiled as they paused outside of her door. “Maybe if he’s willing, we could take him to a movie or something? Something he likes to do? And if that goes well, Jagged Stone’s going to be in town in a couple weeks, I can get tickets. He doesn’t do too many shows anymore, maybe Louis would like to see his mom’s oldest client in action while there’s still the chance.” He winked, and Marinette laughed. “Ask him about it. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable or push my company on him. If he’s not ready to spend time with me, I won’t be offended.”

Marinette laughed. “Are you ever offended?” she asked, running her thumb over his cheek affectionately.

“Sometimes,” he chuckled, catching her hand. “I try not to sweat the small stuff, though.” He started to lift her hand to his lips, only to have her pull it away quickly.

“Sorry,” she said, reddening. “It’s just, the kiss on the knuckles, that was Adrien’s thing, I don’t—”

“I understand,” Luka said, and then smiled mischievously. “Wasn’t going for that, actually.” Keeping his eyes on hers, he reached for her hand again, lifted and turned it, and placed a gentle kiss on the little ladybug tattoo. “That okay?”

Marinette smiled. “Yeah.” She sighed. “Thanks for putting up with all my hang-ups. I don’t think many guys would be as patient as you, and...well, I’m grateful.”

Luka leaned forward and laid his forehead against hers. “It’s not like I don’t have my own baggage. Everybody does. Besides, you’re worth it, Marinette. Any guy that wouldn’t wait for you is an idiot. You’re an amazing person, there’s nothing wrong with you, and you’re so worth it.”

“Um,” Marinette said softly, moving away just enough to be able to see him clearly as she looked up from beneath her lashes. “You are too. You know that, right?”

That caught him off guard, and he blinked at her for a moment. Marinette brought one hand up and laid it a little tentatively against his cheek. Luka leaned into it as she spoke. “I can, um...w-well you’ve obviously been going through a lot too. And I don’t really know how...I don’t want to promise anything I can’t keep but…” She sighed. “I’m not as good at this as you are. I’m not, I don’t want...ugh…” She broke off and bit her lip.

“Take your time,” Luka said, putting his hand over hers. “I want to understand.”

“I just mean...even though I joke about how annoyingly composed you are...that you’re allowed to not be perfect. Those moments, when you miss your mom, you don’t have to apologize to me for that.” She swallowed, and her voice was a little thick when she continued. “I don’t know if I can be what you need,” she said in a rush. “But you shouldn’t be sorry for needing it. Not at all.”

Luka let that sink in a moment, and then smiled softly. “Thank you for that,” he told her. “Honestly, that’s enough. If you can just let me work through it as long as it takes, then that’s enough.”

“I can do that much,” Marinette smiled, and it only trembled a little.

He angled his face slightly in invitation, and she moved to meet him in one last, tender kiss. “Good night, beautiful dreamer. I’ll see you soon.”

“Good night, Luka,” Marinette said, adorably shy as she looked up at him.

~~~

I've never had to not use a song before because it was TOO perfect, but this time I just decided quoting any of the lyrics would be so on the nose as to be almost comical. So, I'll just leave this here, the song Marinette and Luka were listening to on their walk:

youtube

#quickspins #beautiful dreams #lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #ml fics

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lonelypond · 4 years

Text

AU Yeah August: Café Quarantine, Part III

NicoMaki, Love Live, 3.2K, 3/4

Summary: The quarantine continues. Nico and Maki get closer, but...

Café Quarantine, Part III

Maki’s phone went off. Nico.

N: There’s muffins in the oven ( ˘▽˘)っ♨ WAKE UP before the timer goes off.

M: NO.

N: Your pad will burn down. Your parents might notice.

Pad? Oh, the slang kick. Nico was in a good mood. Maki grinned.

M: They’d have to be home.

N: You’re in a mood.

M: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

N: Go get the muffins.

M: Maybe.

N: No fever, no coughing “:♡.•♬✧⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾*+:•*∴

Maki glanced at the time. 9:30 a.m. And Nico had already baked? Maki groaned.

N: Up and at ‘em, barn burner.

M: Musicians are night people. Why aren’t you?

N: Nico is magic. And you’re too much, sugar band.

M: Please forget you ever found that jazz slang link.

N: (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

M: if I get up and deal with whatever you put in my oven, will you never refer to me as a hepkitten or barnburner again?

N: Your oven ✧(σ๑˃̶̀ꇴ˂̶́)σ and sure, square.

M: <(｀^´)>

N: 5 minutes.

M: Fine.

Maki pulled on a t-shirt and found her slippers. Muffins? Might be worth waking up for.

###

A duet, Nico jumping in to the livestream from the library. “I Get No Kick.”

Maki at the piano, her voice a sad and sober invitation,

My story is much too sad to be told But practically everything Leaves me totally cold The only exception I know is the case When I'm out on a quiet spree Fighting vainly the old ennui And I suddenly turn and see Your fabulous face

Then Nico for chorus.

I get no kick from Champagne Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all So tell me why should it be true That I get a kick out of you

Some get a kick from cocaine I'm sure that if I took even one sniff That would bore me terrif- Ically too Yet I get a kick out of you

And Maki alone: I get a kick every time I see you standing there before me

And Nico alone: I get a kick though it's clear to see That you obviously do not adore me

Maki after an instrumental riff: I get no kick kick in a plane, oh yeah Flying too high with some girl in the sky Is my idea of nothing to do, And both for the big finish: you know what, babe I get a kick, you give me a thrill, I get a kick out of you

Maki’s phone double pinged. Hanayo. And Rin.

H; Oh my god, Maki that was like a scene from a movie. You and Nico were both so poised, so pretty, so wistful...almost like you were looking out the windows at each other from so far away.

R: TELL NICO YOU LIKE HER. Don’t just sing things.

H: But keep singing. I have so many ideas. You have such great chemistry. (●♡∀♡))ヾ☆*。

R: Kayo-chin’s typing so fast there’s sparks.

And Rin sent a video of Hanayo at her laptop, hunched over, glasses sliding down her nose, fingers moving at a faster tempo than Maki had ever played.

Then a Nico text.

N: So what’d the PR department think?

M: ((●♡∀♡))ヾ☆*。

N: Just like Nico’s plan.

M :◑.◑

N: Nico’s hungry. Did you order pizza?

M: Isn’t that your fifth meal today?

N: Nico burned off fever calories.

M: Yeah. And you don’t have any to spare.

N: Nico is muscle -(๑☆‿ ☆#)ᕗ

M: Tiny muscle.

N: Tiny muscle that can out arm wrestle you.

M: Try me.

N: Oh, Nico will.

M: I’ll order something. Do you actually want pizza?

N: No. But they get it here fast. And NICO NEEDS FOOD.

Maki had an image of Kaiju sized Nico raging through Chicago in search of snacks. It was God Tier humor. Maki played a quick series of notes, chords chasing and crashing into each other, giggling as they sped up to a sudden silence.

N: That sounded silly.

M: Are you outside the door?

N: Yes. Order my pizza.

M: Fine. And it was only as silly as you.

N: ԅ(◉෴◉ԅ)

###

Maki was now having dreams in Korean. The portal to Seoul had moved to the media room as she sped watched through Tomorrow’s Cantabile. Campus envy for start. Such a beautiful location to play. Crazy professor dude was a bit overdramatic but the music...Maki would stop watching when she couldn’t take any more not playing. And the dorms, with the piano right there....Maki would just stay put…

“Ooh, the violinist subplot is so cute.”

“No spoilers” Maki ordered, not looking behind her, where Nico was presumably lounging in the doorway.

“How come you didn’t go to a music school?”

“They call them conservatories. And because I was going to be a doctor.”

“Was.”

Maki paused the stream from her laptop to the TV screen and turned. Nico was leaning, eyes sparkling enough that Maki could imagine the “Nico won this round” smile under her extra sparkly pink mask.

“Northwestern has an excellent music program.”

“You said was.” Nico smirked.

Maki started the program up again.

###

Maki was getting frustrated. Between her parents and their “what’s your premed major choice?” hints and Nico’s dissection of her verb tenses, there was too much attention on her. And Nico was feeling better, less coughing, so they were nearly running into each other in the hall more often. After Nico’s invasion of Maki’s Tomorrow’s Cantabile viewing experience, Maki fled outside, grabbing her soccer ball and working on a few tricks. Rin hadn’t stopped by in a couple of days and Maki was starting to feel too isolated. Just dribble the ball, do some squat thrusts, roll over in the grass for a few yards, then lay on her back, staring at the sky and tossing the ball up and catching it. No sounds but birds and ball.

Maki knew she couldn’t just punt. But the more college classes took her away from music, the less she wanted to spend time in a classroom. And then Nico, with a surprise dream involving jazz, one of Maki’s favorite things. And Maki’s random Café Quarantine idea became the very real pleasure of music with Nico. Maki wanted more of that. Music with Nico, time with Nico, every night with Nico, seeing exactly how much attention Nico would pay to what Maki chose, both clothes and music, what Nico would suggest, where they would agree...Maki hummed a little, she and Hanayo had been tossing themes back and forth. Learning more about DeeDee Bridgewater after Nico’s name drop had “Lady Be Good” looping in Maki’s head and she really wanted to perform it for Nico. Hanayo had suggested “Dames” be the theme, throwing “Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend” into the mix and Maki added “Satin Doll.” She hadn’t talked about this with Nico yet, but tonight’s show was getting closer and Maki was surprised Nico wasn’t out here, haranguing her to practice.

Why wasn’t Nico out here? Maki jumped up, ball tucked under her arm, and quick walked through downstairs, before heading up to the bedrooms.

She paused outside Nico’s door, no coughing, then knocked. “Nico?”

No reply. Maki opened the door a crack. There was a pile of blankets in the center of the bed, with Nico presumably underneath it. Maki glanced at her phone. Two hours ‘til showtime. No Nico tonight.

Maki closed the door quietly, and went into her room. Shower off the grass, then pick an outfit. But first, Maki dropped back onto her bed, hugging a pillow, and willing more energy to Nico.

###

Nightmare. No breath. Buried under cases of coffee, Maki gone for the weekend, the hospital coffeeshop closed, and no one going to be back for days. Or was that Maki coughing, somewhere, fading, when Nico couldn’t move, couldn’t reach her.

Nico sat up, throwing blankets off her, breaths too fast, too shallow, panic...where was she. Dark. Maki’s house, sweat, fever? Where was Maki? Grabbing a mask, an action now so automatic that even on this half awake edge of rooms too big, too empty, too dark panic, Nico knew she needed to reach out for the one on the nightstand. Loop over the ears, trip over the blanket bunched up next to the bed, hit the ground with her knee, curse, stumble toward the door and nearly into Maki, who was heading for Nico’s room, wearing what must be her pajamas, a gray and light blue flannel shirt, partly unbuttoned and what looked like gray boy shorts with a blue stripe down the hip. Nico forced her eyes away from Maki’s very long legs while the surprised redhead skipped back and squeaked.

“Nico? Are you all right?”

Nico leaned against the wall, inhaling through her nose, “Nico’s fine.”

“I heard you…”

“Nightmare.” Nico frowned, “Were you coughing?”

Maki shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest, suddenly seemingly aware of how much skin she was showing, compared to Nico’s pajama pants and frilly camisole combo.

Breathing almost back to even, Nico stood, “Sorry Nico woke you up.”

Maki shook her head, biting her lip, “Wasn’t really sleeping. Would really rather have been talking to you, but I didn’t want to…”

“Thanks for letting me sleep. Had a lot of energy this morning, but it just suddenly disappeared after lunch.”

“Recovery is slow. You have to give yourself a break.” Maki hadn’t thought to grab a mask so Nico could see her soft, concerned expression.

Nico decided she had enough energy for flirting “Nico’s doctors usually wear more.”

Nico watched Maki flush with embarrassment and backed toward her room, “ummmm…”

Nico reached out a hand for Maki’s arm, her touch gentle, “It’s okay, Nico won’t tease you.”

Maki pulled away, fingers now splayed and covering the top of her thighs, where the shirt ended. She wouldn’t look at Nico.

Right Nico, Nico scolded herself, flowers, dinner, candy...or at least a blu-ray and popcorn night first. “I’ll start tea. Maybe we can watch something funny. Nico needs a break from bad dreams.”

###

While Maki decided what to wear, Nico let the tea steep and watched tonight’s Cafe Quarantine. Floor length violet gown with embroidered chrysanthemums, and a textured crepe, artfully falling off the shoulder neckline. Nico whistled. Maki’s closet was deep and delicious. Had she actually worn them places? And which places? And with who? Nico found a sudden discomfort nudging at her, the thought of Maki in a hotel ballroom, someone’s arms around the fitted waist of her gown...Nico refocused on actual Maki at the piano, fingers sprightly as “The Girl From Ipanema” danced, Maki swaying breezes and skirts with her left hand, drifting clouds into sunshine with her right. Nico giggled, Maki was doing her own secret theme with the instrumentals, songs about “Brazil.” They’d be out of songs before Nico could suggest a Flying Down to Rio week.

“Hey.” Maki said breathily from the doorway of the kitchen.

“Nico was about to watch your second song.”

“I’ll go pick a movie.”

And Maki was gone, with a flash of pajama pant clad leg. Except that on Nico’s phone, Maki’s voice was swinging into a bluesy opening of “Lady Be Good” that turned laughing and flirty. Nico smiled, she could tell Maki was forcing herself not to wink as she sang

“I am so awfully misunderstood So lady, be good to me Oh, please have some pity I'm all-alone in this big city I tell you I'm just a lonesome babe in the wood So lady be good to me”

And then with a wink, and a brashness that surprised Nico, Maki started scatting, a huge grin between nonsense syllables, her voice dropping lower and lower, and then suddenly a sprint back to staccato, and then another wink and the final verse, daring someone to save her.

“Oh, please have some pity I'm all alone in this big city I tell you I'm just a lonesome babe in the wood So lady be good to me Oh lady be good to me”

Nico took her mug of tea and a cookie to the media room, still thinking about Maki’s performance. As stellar as Maki was on the piano, she was also starting to show real flair as a vocalist. Nico found herself imagining the duets they could do when her 10 days of isolation were up.

But Nico stuck to practical as a conversation opener. “I left water in the kettle if you want tea.”

“Thanks.” Maki got up, she’d already opened the windows and left Nico the seat closest to them, “I’ll probably just stick with milk and cookies.”

“Oh good, bring the rest of the cookies.:” Nico settled into her seat, “Hey Maki, where’d you get the idea to scat? Ella?”

“The Muppets.” And Maki was out the door. And Nico was once again intrigued by how little she could guess about Nishikino Maki’s thoughts.

###

Another Café Quarantine performed and posted. Nico was buzzing. Even in separate rooms, her duets with Maki were fire. And now Eli was on a video chat.

“You beans have so much chemistry. Nozomi can’t wait until you bring Maki over for dinner.” Eli laughed as she curved a silver bangle bracelet, “How’d you two start dating? All the ‘you were roommates” tropes. Or was it at work? Ooh, a coffeeshop AU! When’d you kiss? Where’d you kiss? Behind the counter at work, while you expertly sprayed whipped cream on a mocha? Taking a break from inventory and sharing a chocolate chip cookie? In the kitchen, wiping chocolate off her cheek.”

“Enough with your fantasies. And Nico is contagious, we are not dating. I thought Nozomi was the nosy wife.”

Eli leaned back and stretched, blonde hair in a tight ponytail. “I’m bored. Nozomi’s gotta keep working but I’m stuck at home. I need vicarious romance.”

“No. You need to put together a dance routine for a night of Café Quarantine.” Nico had decided to drag Eli back into performing. In the two years, Nico had spent at college, she’d had enough dance classes with Eli to be impressed at the ballerina’s abilities. Then Maki could play a more classical piece.

Eli leaned forward, chin in the hand propped on her knee, and sighed. “I’m out of shape.”

“For you.”

Eli shrugged in low key agreement, “I’ll think about it. Are you really not dating?”

“No.” Nico sunk back into pillows.

“Not even a not yet?”

“Maki’s a hard read.”

Eli shook her head, tapping her forehead. “You’re nuts. Do you listen to her singing?”

“That’s just music.” Nico had been telling herself this almost nightly.

“Nico.” Eli’s tone was serious, “no one sings like that if it’s just music.”

Nico sat up, her tone matching Eli’s. “Maki might, she’s a genius.”

“Plus,” Eli was very good at ignoring Nico when necessary, “she invited you to quarantine at her house and didn’t kick you out when you got sick.”

“Her dad wanted to, I think.”

Eli leaned forward, her face contorting comically, “Well, duh, Nico, another point for DATE THE HEIRESS.” Eli’s eyes brightened, “You’re in a Korean drama. Does her mother hate you? Is there an ex? Spill.”

“Don’t call her ‘the heiress.” Nico didn’t want any more attention paid to that aspect of things than she already had to. How was she supposed to compete? Would it be like dating the poolboy or the maid in Maki’s parents’ eyes.

“Maki.” Eli said simply.

“Maki.” Nico liked holding the syllables in her mouth.

“Why aren’t you dating Maki yet?”

Nico flumped back into her pillows, “Nico wants to be well.”

“Say, hey, let’s date. Then it’s settled. There’ll be time for kissing later.” Eli went back to bending silver.

“Things have to be the right temperature. Or they break.”

“Don’t throw jeweler references at me, Nico.”

“But it’s true...how about cooking references? If you take a cake out too early or too late, even by a minute, it’s not as good. And the more complicated the cake, the more a miss messes it up.” Nico groaned, almost throwing a pillow at her phone, “Plus, Nico’s exhausted. And hungry all the time.”

“Still coughing.”

“Yeah.”

“Be careful. We miss you.” Eli’s sincerity was always soothing.

“I miss you.”

“I get the exhausted thing. It’s hard to think about romance when you can’t keep your eyes open. Nozomi’s working double shifts to cover our bills.” Eli held up the bracelet to show it off.

“That’s pretty. When Nico gets cleared, I’ll cook you a special dinner.”

“Thanks.” Eli chuckled, “As long as you bring your girlfriend Maki over.”

Nico chucked a pillow at her phone.

###

R: Did you tell Nico you like her yet.

M: Pick another topic.

R: Where are we going on a double date?

M: Rin.

R: What’s wrong?

M: I’m just thinking about a lot of things.

R: Don’t think. Just do. You overthink (҂⌣̀_⌣́)

Rin was right, Maki did overthink, but right now, she legitimately had at least three major issues she was juggling, including the fact that finding herself sitting and staring into space, remembering Nico’s voice and mimicking her gestures was interfering with Maki’s ability to plan anything.

M: I’m just ready for a change,

R: ( ¬_¬)

M ˚▱˚

R: Is this about your parents?

M: It’s about me. I’m going to be 21.

R: Your trust fund?

M: Not really exactly that. I just feel like I should make an I’m an adult statement.

R: Date Nico.

M: Before that.

R: Oh.

M: Yeah, oh.

R: (σ≧∀≦)σ

M: Thanks.

R: Donuts and coffee in the backyard tomorrow?

M: Not before noon.

R: (≧ω≦)ゞ

###

M; How are you feeling?

N: Tired. What are you doing?

Maki looked at her exchange with Rin.

M: Nothing.

N: Nico too.

M: Good night.

N: Great show tonight.

M (~_^)ｂ

N: See you tomorrow.

M: Donuts for breakfast.

N: Not healthy.

M: Dr. Nico needs to change her opinion, one of them will have blueberries. And toasted coconut is wonder food while coffee leads to longevity. All science-y stuff I read somewhere.

N: Σ(T□T) Dr. Nico?

M: I got the rockin pneumonia and the boogie woogie flu.

N: Will donuts fix you?

M: Yes.

N: Nico will find a recipe.

M: ♥

M: Nico…

N: ?

Maki considered typing something like, what if I quit the coffeeshop? When are you leaving? Can we have a kiss theme week?

M: Get some sleep.

N: c⌒っ╹v╹ )っ

Maki dropped her phone on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Where to start so many conversations?

A/N: And this monster of an @auyeahaugust fic continues. Take care!

#NicoMaki #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #RinPana #Hoshizora Rin #Koizumi Hanayo #Ayase Eli #NozoEli #Au Yeah August #Coffeeshop AU

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footballfangurl · 5 years

Text

Virgil Van Dijk - Baby Fever

So I finished this much sooner than expected so I can post this now. This is the first one shot I've posted in about 6 months, I think, so please let me know what you guys think. I'd absolutely love some feedback 💕

Words: 1528

Getting out of the car, I shivered as the cold December air hit my exposed face. Despite being decked out in a scarf, mittens, a hat and a very warm and cosy winter jacket, I still hated being outside in this weather. Winter wasn't anything for me. And Virgil goddamn knew it too. That's why he dragged me out here in the cold Belgian weather on this holiday, when we were supposed to be inside, laying in bed with nothing else to do except enjoying each other's company and getting up to eat and sitting in the jacuzzi.

"Aww, come on, grumpy pants. Lighten up!" Virgil laughed as he walked around the car towards me, having just gotten out of the driver's seat. I pouted at him as I closed the car door behind me.

"It's cold. If the weather lightens up, so will I!" I grumbled back at him and he laughed again, reaching my side and putting a hand on my waist to pull me slightly closer so he could press his warm lips against my cold ones.

"You and I both know that's not true. You're just being dramatic." He whispered against my lips, pecking them again before he pulled back and grabbed my hand, towing me along towards the little Christmas market that was being organised in the quiet village we were staying in.

"Fine, you win." I answered and he laughed again.

The market was quite lovely. There were Christmas lights hung up in the trees surrounding the marketplace, and because it was so dark outside, it made for a very romantic setting. There were beautiful Christmas trees lined up along the marketplace as well, decorated with red Christmas balls and each of them having a large white star on the very top of it. And the goods in the Christmas stalls were interesting to look at too. There were quite a few stands and stalls that sold things with alcohol in it, but there were a lot where the market stall holders sold products that they handmade, like scarves and jewellery and hats. Virgil got himself a new scarf, because he forgot his back in England and I bought myself some earrings. The old lady who sold them was so happy when I started asking more about her trade, that I couldn't help myself from giving her a large tip. She was just so sweet.

After 5 minutes of staying there and talking with her, Virgil tugged me away from the sweet old lady and I waved goodbye, wrapping my hands around Virgil's arm and leaning my head on his shoulder. His hands were in his pockets, to protect them from the cold seeing as he forgot his mittens back in England too. I swear, this time was the last time I'd let him pack his own bags. He always forgets stuff when we go on holiday. Last time, we went to Ibiza during the summer and he forgot his sunglasses and the sunscreen. The time before that, we were already at the airport when he realised he forgot our plane tickets on the kitchen table. We had to reschedule our flight.

We walked in silence for a minute before the quiet was interrupted by a few children that came running down the market, playing a game of tag. We sprung apart so we could avoid them running into us, because they weren't playing much attention to where they're going but more to avoiding being tagged by their friend. I smiled at seeing the joyful looks on their faces. One boy, who was being chased at the moment, took the chance to deftly step aside to hide behind me, holding onto the back of my jacket. The boy who was chasing him switched targets at seeing that and started running after another girl who was playing their game.

"Amai, dat scheelde niet veel. Sorry mevrouw, en bedankt!" The kid said to me, giving me a toothy grin before running off again to continue playing with his friends. I looked to Virgil questioningly and he smiled, coming over to me to wrap his arm around my shoulders, pressing a kiss against my forehead, which was partly covered by the hat I was wearing, before gently pushing us forward again in a walk.

"He just apologized for hiding behind you and thanked you, babe."

"Aww, that was so sweet!" Virgil hummed in agreement. My heart basically melted at how very cute and very polite the kids were. The way they were enjoying their game, it was so innocent. I loved kids, always have. And I knew Virgil did too. We once talked about it a few months into our relationship, just to see if we wanted the same things for the future. We hadn't brought it up since, though. Maybe it was time…

"Say, Virgil…" I tilted my head upwards so I could see his face. He was looking around at some of the stalls but as soon as I addressed him, he glanced down at me and raised an eyebrow at the look on my face. I didn't know what he saw but it must have been a little bit different or suspicious.

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember, at the beginning of our relationship, when we talked about the future?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." Virgil grinned and stopped walking, making me stop too. He then turned to face me, wrapping his arms around my waist to pull me closer to him. I rested my hands on his chest and started fidgeting them, my gaze falling from his face to my hands out of nervousness. I knew I could talk about anything with him, but it was still a serious subject and I couldn't help but be nervous.

"Do you think, maybe…" I trailed off, one hand smoothing out a crinkle in his jacket and the pointer finger of the other one tapping the zipper of his jacket absentmindedly, as I searched for the right words to broach the subject.

"Maybe…?" Virgil repeated after a few seconds, ducking his head to try and catch my eyes but I avoided looking at his face, instead keeping my eyes fixed on my pointer finger, which was now flicking the zipper back and forth. Virgil sighed a bit and removed his hands from my waist, making me tense up a bit, before one of them came to rest on the hand that was playing with the zipper of his jacket, stilling the movement, and the other one gently pulled my chin upwards so I had no choice but to look at him.

"Hey, baby, what's making you so nervous, huh?" He asked, eyes flicking back and forth between my own worriedly and it only took a few seconds before his eyes widened slightly in realisation.

"Do- do you want to ask if we can start having children? That's what the conversation was about back then, wasn't it?" He asked but I knew it wasn't a question but a statement. He knew me way too well for my own good. He already guessed what I wanted to talk about before I could utter the words, just by looking at my face.

"I-I-… Well, yes."

A smile lit up his face at those words and he leaned in and pressed his lips against mine elatedly. I was a bit surprised at his reaction, but then again, I wasn't. I knew he wanted kids, we talked about it before, but I didn't realise he'd been this ready to have them.

"Really?! Are you serious?" He asked when he pulled back and I nodded, smiling up at him dazedly.

"Yeah, of course I'm serious," I breathed, my hand moving up from his chest to cup his cheek, "I think we'd be great parents, don't you? Can we maybe start trying for a baby?"

"Yeah, I do too. I've actually been wanting to bring this up for a while, but it was never a great time. I think you'd be an amazing mum! The most sweet," He turned his head to press a kiss to my wrist, "loving," he leaned forward to press a kiss to my cheek, "patient," his lips moved down my jawline, pressing featherlight kisses as he went, "and fierce mother in the whole world. You'd be amazing." Finally, his lips reached my lips again and I pushed up into the kiss, hands trailing up and to the back of his head to pull him even closer. His lips were a bit chapped now from the cold, but I couldn't care less. This man truly was the man of my dreams. He was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, the man I wanted to marry and have children with. A pair of chapped lips certainly weren't going to stop me from kissing him.

"And, as for the trying to make a baby part, well, practise makes perfect, doesn't it?" He replied cheekily as he pulled away from the kiss a minute later, winking down at me. My eyes widened in excitement, moving out of his embrace and ignoring his protest at that, before gripping his hand and starting to walk back to where the car was parked.

"We're going back to the hotel. NOW."

Tag list: @virgilvandick @avsensio @leroysanei @theblxefox @no-not-with-out-you @rafinasmarco @the-place-to-sparkle @football-laeli @del-boi @neymarlionelmessi7 @i-ship-it-okay

#virgil van dijk #virgil van dijk fanfiction #virgil van dijk one shot #virgil van dijk imagine #liverpool fc #liverpool fanfiction #liverpool one shot #liverpool imagine #liverpool #football fluff #football #football fanfiction #soccer #soccer one shot #soccer fanfiction #soccer imagine

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kisskissbanggang · 5 years

Text

Standby pt. 4

[25Min. Read/6.7K Words – Bang Chan x Female Reader – Idol!AU – Half Plot, Half NSFW/Smut – Unfortunate Pining, Bondage, Face Sitting, Fellatio, Edging, Risky Situations, Acting Professional]

Every step you'd taken to get here was flashing before your eyes and burning to a crisp. Moving with your family to Korea, loving it enough to stay behind and pursue a degree even when they moved away, studying marketing and management in college, working your ass off to pay for school, landing the internship -- all the money, exams, all-nighters were gone. You were sure of it. Hyun-Jae was going to drag you into your shared hotel room and lock you there until she could put you on a plane to Antarctica to manage penguins. She wouldn't even have to worry about blacklisting you; the fans would probably take care of that tenfold. Some of the printed screenshots in the folder you'd been handed hadn't been very nice. Fat, ugly, foreign -- it was high school all over again. If you had been all or none of those things, you still wouldn't be good enough for them. No one would be. Interestingly, though, a rare amount of those screenshots also seemed oddly positive. You both seemed happy, content, smitten -- where were they when you needed the support right now? But, realistically, you knew that wouldn't matter at the end of the day. You weren't in charge of your fate in those regards.

Hyun-Jae juggled her hold on your arm to her other hand as she slipped her key card out of her pocket and slapped it against the door lock. You'd always suspected Hyun-Jae was partly excited you were a girl so she could split a room with you and make all the male staff share a room for once. It definitely seemed to help in a situation like this. Your room was more like a miniature suite, with two small bedrooms off a central bathroom and living room with a mini bar. Hyun-Jae dragged you into the room and pointed to the couch.

"Sit."

You rigidly sat on the couch as she pulled up the easy chair across from you. She pulled over an in-progress bottle of bourbon and poured two glasses.

"You did this, so you're not letting me drink alone." She took one glass and slid you the other. You took an obligatory sip of the drink. Hyun-Jae shot hers down and slumped back on the chair, rubbing her temples and perching her glasses on top of her head as she stretched. "I thought you'd be different," she yawned. The circles under her eyes matched yours.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, mostly unhearing but also, in a regrettable, small way, meaning it.

"Nothing," Hyun-Jae curtly replied as she stood up, "I'm going to catch the rest of rehearsal. Stay in this hotel, stay in this room if you can stand it. I don't have the time nor the energy to explain to you just how much shit you've created."

And with that, Hyun-Jae ghosted out the door, leaving you in her wake. What could you even do now? Did you even still have a job? You attempted to keep busy, first carefully answering frantic text messages from family and friends asking about bizarre rumors concerning your coziness with some idol. Your parents never really understood this career you wanted in the first place, and now you were stuck trying to gently explain how it might be over before it ever really began. It wasn't until well after rehearsal should have ended that you figured you should eat something. Should you get room service? No, you decided. You needed a change of scenery and a little fresh air.

You were catching the elevator back up after meeting the delivery person in the lobby, your food in hand, when the chime sounding the elevator's calling only one floor up made you flinch. Each dumb decision made in the past 24 hours hung on your shoulders like a cape, trimmed in good intentions and reckless decisions. Why did you have to choose this point in your life to be impulsive and spontaneous?

The doors slid open and you nearly considered running out when Minho and Jisung walked on, still wrapped up in robes and towels after relaxing in the hot tub, but they gracefully cornered you into the elevator car. You all stood in excruciating silence, them exchanging plenty of looks with each other and you just staring anywhere else possible.

"Are you alright, noona?" Minho asked you quietly before Jisung elbowed him in the ribs. You nodded reassuringly.

"I'm fine. Could be better." You shrugged, attempting to look stronger than you felt as you stared at the digital display, the numbers slowly ticking up.

"Not every day you torpedo a job, I'm guessing," Jisung said coolly.

The boys bolted upright as you let out a shaky breath, doing everything in your power to not finally cry, to not finally let go of all this pent up emotion, and especially not in front of them.

Minho smacked Jisung in the arm. "Good job, dummy. Stop being so protective."

Jisung still eyed you suspiciously. "You're not actually a crazy woman who's going to kidnap Chan-hyung, are you?"

"What?!" You and Minho both sputtered.

Minho reached back and swatted him in the arm again. "Now you're being protective and stupid."

Jisung raised his hands in surrender. "I had to be sure! And now I am. Noona," he quickly detoured towards you, "do you really like Chan-hyung?"

Your eyes darted back and forth between Minho and Jisung before Minho hit him one last time. "That doesn't matter; it's pretty obvious she does." He turned back to you, now calmly holding your shoulders. "What does matter is... Noona," Minho implored, "you didn't mean to fall for Chan-hyung, right? Like you didn't go out of your way to develop feelings for him?"

You shook your head firmly. "Like I would want to torpedo my job?" You asked, teasingly raising an eyebrow at Jisung, who was now using Minho as a protective barrier between you.

Minho nodded along understandingly. "Okay. That's all we needed to know."

"Yup," Jisung agreed confidently, "Wait, it is?"

"It is." Minho patted your shoulder encouragingly as the elevator rung for your floor. You watched as both boys turned heel and walked down the hallway, the two of them eyeing Chris curiously as he passed by them, heading straight for you.

You jogged down the hallway and attempted to duck right into your room when Chris bolted over and stopped you, his hand gripping onto yours. "Are you alright?" He asked softly in the hush of the hallway.

"I will be as soon as I get in my room," you struggled, trying to juggle Chris holding your hand while you tried to work around your takeout in the other, all the while attempting to fish out your key card from your pocket.

"I just want to make sure you're okay; this is a really shitty day and a whole mess and I'm worried about you and you won't answer me."

Chris was right. You had exactly five unanswered texts from him on your phone at that exact moment, all with increasing levels of concern.

"This is fine. I'm fine," you babbled, "I'm handling this. We wanted space and we got it sooner than expected but we're handling this. Just take care of you, and I'll take of me."

"Oh my god, would you just let me try to take care of you for once and be there for you?" Chris whispered in frustration.

"Trying to sneak in a quickie before the show?" Came a snide voice from behind the door. You both turned to watch as Hyun-Jae casually swung it open, stepping aside to let you in. You blushed deeply, wrenching your hand out of Chris' grasp and struggling to meet his eye as you followed Hyun-Jae into the room.

"Noona," Chris began warningly.

"Chan," she replied sternly, "you have to be in hair and makeup in an hour. Go relax before the show."

You could almost hear his agitation grow.

"He's fine," Hyun-Jae said, turning back to you, "he'll either jerk off or walk it off." You finally looked back at him as he turned to leave. It was rare to see Chris so frustrated, roughly pushing his fingers back through his hair as he stormed off. You set your food on the coffee table, eyeing Hyun-Jae as she sat and poured herself a drink.

"Oh, don't look so sore about it," Hyun-Jae waved you off as she took a sip, "it was just a joke."

"Excuse me if I'm not in much of a mood to joke about my personal life." You glowered as you paced the room.

"You should be when you drag me into it. By the way," Hyun-Jae noted as she leafed through some notes on the table, her drink in her other hand, "you're international, you're pretty open-minded, so I assume you're on birth control?"

"Uhh," you stammered, slack-jawed, "I am, but I don't need it."

"Because you're using condoms?"

Your cheeks burned.

"Ah." She finished her drink, a knowing smile escaping her. "You haven't actually done it yet. Well, that's good. One less mess for me to worry about."

"That's hardly--"

"What. It's hardly anything to worry about? I doubt it. There's too much time between now and us officially deciding your fate with the company."

You found yourself glaring as Hyun-Jae slipped the notes on the table into one of her folders and into her giant handbag next to your backpack. She'd actually wrinkled her nose when you showed up at the dorm with your backpack a week or so ago. You'd made the switch from your own big handbag for the sake of comfort and preference. She'd said you looked like a student. You'd reminded her you still were.

"Don't make it sound like I'm some animal. I can keep it in my pants." You muttered as you sat on the couch.

She shuffled things around in her bag before zipping it shut. "That may be, but like I said, there's just too many opportunities. And he's handsome, and he's charming, and you'll fall for it like you have been despite all the danger up until this point. He makes you feel special and like what you have is special, and you'll find yourself in bed before you know it."

"Why are you making him sound like such a monster? Or, for that matter, why am I suddenly such an idiot according to you?" You asked, your hands balled up in fists at your sides.

"Oh, don't get offended," Hyun-Jae smirked, "that's not a you thing or a him thing. I know damn well how much pressure these boys are under. I know how stressed they are and how starved for affection they are. It's an expectation of the business. Just, you know, they're usually smart enough to not fool around with the staff. I guess you have him really wrapped around your finger."

You stood up once again. "Oh, just because he acts --" you sputtered.

Hyun-Jae held up a hand so she could continue. "-- He usually acts in a way that benefits him. Do you know how goddamn hard I've worked to make sure fans feel like the only intelligent being Chan sleeps with is his computer?"

She waited only the briefest moment for a response before resuming. "He's married to the job, little sister, which helps when garbage like this happens. Fans have a hard time believing it, and I have less to clean up. At least, that was the theory. I foolishly believed you were married to the job, too. I guess you couldn't help it. Just like he couldn't. Really, I should've seen this coming. Thirty minutes to fix a stuck zipper? Who were you kidding? Who was I kidding? I'm going to get everyone ready for hair and makeup. No wild parties while I'm out."

With that, Hyun-Jae slung on her bag and set her empty glass on the table before breezing out the door, leaving you gawping in her aftermath.

In a matter of seconds, you impatiently tapped your foot as you sheepishly called up housekeeping to clean Hyun-Jae's glass that you had shattered against the front door. This was such an alien sensation. The fury seeping through you felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else.

You attempted to do anything to be productive, to distract yourself from your fear and anger and confusion. You answered a few more texts from family, futilely attempting to convince your parents you weren't going to be homeless and jobless and publicly shamed when you returned to Korea. You’d hoped, at least. Likewise, you ignored the six extra texts Chris had sent you, likely snuck in between stylists and makeup artists putting him through the ringer. Always concerned. Always sweet. Always caring. Each sent you deeper into doubt and confusion. This wasn't just some game to him. You knew it wasn't. So why were you considering it? Glancing at your phone, you considered tuning into the live stream for the show when it eventually started, but thought against it. That in and of itself would be inviting trouble. Instead, you took the first stress nap you'd had to resort to in years, waking up after what felt like ten minutes, only to find out it'd been an hour. How did Hyun-Jae get under your skin like that? How did she shoot through to the core of every dumb concern you'd had about this? It was frustrating that she could sound so right about things you could swear were wrong. You were an adult. You were capable. You were professional. The impatience for some relief, some peace of mind, was eating at you. You spent an inordinate amount of time flipping through television channels.

Even then you were only mildly sated. New texts arose from friends -- was the sex good, was he really that sweet, did he buy you gifts -- and these were too instantly exhausting to even humor. You looked at your phone again. What could checking the live stream hurt? You loved watching the show from the monitors or backstage in the wings. It felt odd to not be there. You wondered how the boys were doing, or how the rest of the staff was doing. For that matter, how could Hyun-Jae turn on you like this? How could she act like you were some dumb slave to your desires and as if she knew best? You couldn't help it reverberated in your head, and you weren't sure what made you more furious -- Hyun-Jae's biting platitudes in general, or the fact that you felt a little exposed from her condescending diagnosis. You spied your phone sitting on the coffee table. It wouldn't hurt to check the stream. Really, it could probably even help you feel better. At the very least it would distract you. Maybe two minutes. Just two minutes.

You snatched your phone and clicked through to the live stream as you sat back down on the couch. The boys were all doing splendid, but your eyes shook as you caught Chris. Chan. Whatever you wanted to call him, his energy was sucking the life out of you. Since when was it possible for him to look this intense and cocky? You were used to a tall level of energy from him, but this was as if he were possessed. He was performing like an absolute beast, grabbing the camera's attention each time it passed. The sweat on his brow, trailing down his neck and down the collar of his shirt, smudging off his foundation as he danced and hyped up the crowd -- you all but threw your phone at the easy chair across from you to calm down. You checked the time. How had you watched for fifteen minutes?!

Fine. He was gorgeous and talented and you were stupid. The joke was on you. Egg on your face, practically frying, you defeatedly got up, grabbed your phone, and exited out of the live stream. You decided to try and take care of some leftover paperwork. Admittedly, this filled enough time until well after the show should be over, but only in that you caught yourself spacing out and reading the same sentence on multiple occasions. It was getting late. You grabbed a beer from the mini bar and headed for the shower.

You couldn't help it, Hyun-Jae echoed in your mind as you simmered under the steaming water, absently sipping on your beer. Having skipped a hair wash and mostly in it for therapeutic reasons, you were able to towel off and immediately hop into some pajamas without dripping too much as you ordered room service. Sure, you could've ordered delivery again, but you didn't want to risk running into Hyun-Jae in the lobby.

Only a few minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. Puzzled, you crossed the room and opened the door, gasping as Chris herded you back inside and clapped a hand over your attempted yelp. You watched, hushed as he softly reached his foot behind him to gently click the door closed.

"It's okay, it's okay," he quietly reassured you, "it's just me."

You peeled his hand off of you. "I can see that, Chan!" You angrily whispered back. "You need to get out! Hyun-Jae--"

"-- Is entirely busy for the foreseeable evening."

You stared, wondering what the explanation could even possibly be.

"Jisung just happened to lose his wallet at dinner after the show."

A commotion passed by the door and you both stopped to listen. "How can you lose an entire wallet, Han?! We were at In-N-Out for five whole minutes! Oh my god the stylists are going to murder you if they find out."

The small herd outside passed the door, Jisung exaggeratedly apologizing all the way down the hallway. You finally got a good look at Chris. He must've been fresh from a shower, smelling amazing and looking cute in just sweats and a t-shirt, his shoes not even tied, and you just wanted to kick him out even more.

"Is everybody going?" You asked incredulously, not sure why you were still whispering.

"Not everyone. Just enough to be annoying. For instance, I'm at the gym right now, Changbin is taking a nap, Felix is reading, and Seungmin is busy doing a broadcast."

"I'm sorry, she took none of the English speakers with her?" You couldn't help but be amused. Hyun-Jae's English was good, but certainly not perfect but any means, and only got worse when she was stressed or frustrated. It was another of those things you suspected she took for granted when having you around.

"Nope, and that was definitely on purpose. Everyone with her is running full distraction tactics."

You crossed your arms impatiently. "For what purpose, exactly?"

"I needed to make sure you're okay," he powered through despite your rolling eyes, "And we need to talk. I mentioned needing time tonight and Minho suggested an entire crazy scheme, so I took a chance."

"Yeah, an insane chance," you huffed. "What is there to even talk about? We fooled around a little and the fantasy is over now. We're being professional about this, remember?"

Chris looked at you, the floor, anything as he attempted to start the fifty thoughts running through his mind, absently reaching for your hand and wincing as you snatched it away.

"It's fine that it happened," you said, softening a little. "We couldn't help it."

You were met with a scoffed laugh as he backed up out of your personal space. "Yeah. 'Couldn't help it.' We accidentally fooled around on multiple occasions now. Couldn't help it."

"You know what I mean. Don't be obtuse." You replied sharply, your eyes narrowing to keep from tearing up. It was hard not to feel miserably vulnerable.

"And I absolutely didn't mean to fall for you," he continued, refusing to meet your eye. You both knew he was a sympathetic crier. "I couldn't help it. I'm just an idiot who keeps wanting to be with you and I -- I'm sorry, but can you please put on a robe or something?"

You were thrown off by the request, looking down to see why on earth he would ask. Admittedly, you preferred to wear comfier pajamas when you were sharing a room with Hyun-Jae than what you normally wore when you slept at the dorm. You hadn't thought much about your flimsy tank top and shorts when you first put them on, but you suddenly felt exposed. You shot Chris a quizzical glance as you ran into the bathroom to pile on your robe.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging there as he gathered his thoughts. "I'm sorry. I've been dying since this morning, and especially after yesterday. The show only made it worse; I'd rather not be distracted. It's not your fault."

You couldn't help but smirk at his brazen confession. Honestly, it hurt to see him so distressed. He deserved a break, anything to lighten the mood. Gently, playfully, you nudged his shoulder, trying to lift him back up a little. "What," you smiled, "couldn't just take care of it yourself?"

His smile returned as he nudged you back, pretending to get all choked up again. "I tried! I really did. I think I'm developing a problem preforming under pressure."

"Is that so? I'm sure you're just being a baby--" you laughed, stopped short as you noticed what you were doing. It's like you were watching from outside your own body as you saw yourself playfully grab Chris' dick. Every voice in your head that knew better started shouting over each other as it throbbed at your touch, but the moment your eyes locked all the noise dampened. Even though you quickly grabbed your hand away, he got ahold of your arm and kissed you, softly, once on the lips, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, like you'd been dating for years and this was just another night. This should stop. You knew you should stop, that this was a slippery slope for both of you.

So how was it you found yourself backing Chris against the wall, kissing him fervently, giggling and playing with each other like this was Seven Minutes in Heaven? You couldn't help it, Hyun-Jae condescended in your mind. Fine. Couldn't help starting it, couldn't help finishing the job.

Your pushing and pulling at each other led Chris to easily nudge you back, his hands in your hair as he kissed you hungrily. He was just as easily turned to step back, a few easy steps to send you both tumbling over the arm of the couch and onto the plush cushions. Laughing into each other, you resituated yourselves, Chris sat up with you resting on his lap, your tongues eagerly wrestling as you caught yourself firmly rolling your hips against his, his growing hard-on pressing up against you.

"Mmph, no-no-no, wait," Chris half-pleaded, half-laughed, his hands holding tight onto your thighs to still you, "be careful or I'll cum. I'm near death, remember?"

"Oh? I thought that was the whole point," you cooed, "isn't that why you kissed me?" Your hands trailed down his arms, a cute shiver running through him as you laced your fingers into his.

"No," Chris chuckled, but not without an edge of seriousness, "I kissed you because I really want you and --"

"Oh, so you don't want to cum?"

Chris gave a nervous laugh, his eyes wild at the implication. "Nope, not what I said whatsoever."

You quickly shushed him with a kiss, raising his hands in yours up over the top of the couch. Sitting back, you admired how cooperative he was, still keeping his hands in place as he watched, mesmerized by you untying and opening your robe. "Still distracting?" You asked cheekily, satisfied as he silently nodded. "Oh, no, I guess it's easier to get distracted than I thought. Looks like I'm getting distracted, too."

Chris watched, momentarily excited and curious as you lifted the hem of his shirt, his intrigue turned to shock as you quickly pulled the shirt only halfway back over his head, acting as an improvised blindfold and binding, as minor as the effect may be. It didn't cease to impress you that he could be so compliant, dutifully waiting in place. "There," you marveled quietly as you let your free hand drift from his collarbones down to his navel, "See? Now I'm plenty distracted."

"Don't think this is making me forget that I wanted to talk about this whole mess," he breathed, waiting for your next move.

"Gee," you pouted sarcastically, "aren't I so lucky you're dying?"

The smallest whine escaped Chris' throat as you resumed grinding your hips against his, the pathetic sound pretending to be an exasperated chuckle on its way out. "It's so bad, I feel like I'm buzzing."

"Oh yeah? Let's see if we can't make that any worse." He couldn't quite see your sly smile as you let your robe fall from your shoulders and onto the floor. His skin was smooth, cold as marble as your fingers danced down the graceful lines of his torso, teasing and winding their way into his sweats to fish out his blushing, leaking length. The sight almost made your heart stop, Chris heaving for breath and practically sweating as he obediently waited for you to give him some relief. It was so easy, so natural to lean in and kiss his lips, to savor his shivers and wavering breath as he let you take control.

You pulled off your tank top, the cool air of the hotel room making your nipples rub pert against him as you resumed kissing him. "You're so warm," he marveled quietly against your lips. He hardly registered you raising your hips a little, just enough to slip the crotch of your shorts to the side and tease the head of his member against your soaked entrance. Instantly, he went rigid under you. "So warm," he repeated, shuddering through a hearty moan. It took so much restraint not to just drop yourself onto his length, but you knew better. Predictably, your resolve proved stronger than his own, unable to stop his shallow thrusts up into you until you bucked him back down.

"You're going to have to slow down if we're going to enjoy this."

"Oh, come on, baby, please help me," he begged.

"I thought you wanted to talk, though," you teased, subtly grinding down on his length. Thankfully, he couldn't see just how much you adored him in this moment, just how pleased you were with how he stretched and filled you just right. It was a little frightening, dealing with the reality that it might not be so easy to let go of these feelings you had, especially with him underneath you and so ready to be yours.

"I do, it's just--" Chris struggled, a clandestine drip of perspiration catching your eye as it rolled from his neck and down his chest, "I do want to talk, I just need you so badly right now."

The cute desperation in his voice helped keep you on track. "Good. But you definitely can't cum yet. Won't it be so much nicer to earn it?"

"Tell me how to earn it, baby," he offered quickly.

"Count." The command was so simple, he looked so cute being understandably confused.

"What, I --" he stammered, desperate for whatever would make you do something as you lifted yourself almost entirely off his length, "One... Two, three," he carefully counted. You barely bobbed the head of his cock in and out of your pussy, the soft ghost of pleasure making his voice waver. "Four, fi-- ah, fuck!" Chris' jaw clenched, hissing as you dipped him full into your depths.

"Good job," you praised sweetly before lifting your hips back up. "Now start again." The counting achieved just what you were hoping: Chris was creating so much anticipation for himself that one of these rounds you could drop on the count of one and probably kill him.

Chris swallowed hard, his Adam's Apple bobbing in his throat. "One, two--"

You were both startled at the sound of the door knocking.

"Hyun-Jae?" Chris gasped, well out of breath for more than one reason.

You took a second to come back to earth, sighing in relief as you figured it out. "Room service. Sit still and be quiet. In fact..." You plucked his shirt the rest of the way off before pulling your tank top back on. Moving quickly, you snatched the bathrobe off the floor, pulled the plush tie from it and fixed it around his eyes, binding it to his wrists up behind his head. Next, you swiftly dropped your shorts, grabbing your panties and stuffing them between his teeth. His shock thoroughly muffled, you admired your handiwork as you bundled the bathrobe closed over you and answered the door just enough to thank and tip the porter before snatching the tray of food. You kicked the door closed once again and set the food on the table, casually nibbling at a french fry as you shed the robe once more. The sight of Chris tied up and waiting for you on the couch really was something to behold, something that filled you with a sudden sense of doubt. All this over you? Would he be this person for anyone, so eager to please and be pleased? You shook yourself out of it. You were chosen each time before this, you were chosen tonight, so it would be you and you would enjoy it, no matter how much your conscience told you this was a dumb fantasy to play into.

You strode over to Chris, his chest barely trembling under his regained confidence, having apparently taken a second to calm down. You gently tugged your panties from his lips, amused by his persistent and goofy smile even amidst all this.

"What took you so long, babygirl?" He chuckled, muffled again as you playfully shoved a french fry in his mouth.

"You definitely don't get to cum if you say that again," you laughed as you set yourself back on his lap.

"Speaking of cumming..." he alluded with a smirk. How was he still so cute even while blindfolded? You stroked his hair, your fingers gliding back to the improvised binding behind his head. You grabbed ahold, pulling him down to lay flat on the couch.

"Since you won't stop asking about it," you lightly scolded, "then we can work on you again after you learn to hold your tongue."

Just as he began to ask, you got up, smoothly turning and swinging a leg over to slowly rest your pussy down against his lips. He quickly got the idea, licking you hungrily as you quickly got his length just as hard as you had previously left it. He groaned and whined under you as you barely stroked him, barely licked his length, only occasionally bobbed him deep into your throat like he seemed to enjoy so much just that morning. His thighs were shivering as you clutched them still, and you once again couldn't help but get distracted. Chris, still wearing his untied shoes and sweatpants, gladly eating you while you sat on his face. It was hard not to feel smitten again. How did you keep getting consumed by this feeling? You earnestly shook yourself out of it, getting the hell over it by jerking his cock perfectly for just enough strokes for him to sound devastated when you stopped. The sound brought you closer to a peak you hadn't expected but gladly welcomed, allowing Chris to rush you to an orgasm with his quickly learning tongue. You decided he more than earned a little affection, sitting up to reach back and lace your fingers into his hair as you ground down on him.

"Chris, Chris, please don't stop," you sweetly begged, letting yourself fully give into your infatuation for just a moment. If you couldn't enjoy it now, when could you? For all you knew, you’d be fired the moment you touched down in Korea, if not even sooner. Your moans reached their own peak along with your orgasm, practically silent with the force of your convulsions on top of him. You collapsed off of him, regaining your breath as he did the same. You sat yourself back on his lap, lovingly kissing his lips as you slowly teased his length back inside you. "You did so well, baby boy," you soothed with only a hint of a laugh, stroking his hair as he got used to being deep inside you again. "Your turn now, right? Remember how to play our game?"

"Count?" He asked quietly, almost unsure of himself.

"Yes, baby boy, count."

Your excruciating game lasted three rounds before you gave him a short break, Chris flushed from his cheeks to his chest in the prettiest way when you heard a faint buzzing from deep within the couch. He was practically in tears when you finally took him fully inside you, only ever truly fucking for just enough thrusts to torture him when you stopped. You started him counting again as you dug around, finding that his phone had fallen into the couch cushions. Six whole missed texts from Minho.

>Hyung

>Hyung!

>HYUNG

>get out of there noona got a phone call and says she has to get back

>get out of there NOW we're pulling up to the hotel

>i don't know how long you have we only managed to hide her key card hurry up

You quickly sat up, barely noticing that Chris had taken the opportunity to surreptitiously grind his length into you.

"Baby," you urged, your adrenaline already rising, "we have to--"

A knock at the door.

"Room service?" Chris laughed.

"Hyun-Jae." You replied in horror.

"God damnit!" He growled, quickly pulling his arms back forward and untying himself, easily showing how much of his restraint had been pure obedience. The door knocked again and you hauled Chris off the couch, pulling him across the room. "What do we do?!" He whispered.

"I'm figuring it out!" You replied, your hushed tone still revealing too much anxiety. Sprinting into the bathroom you turned the shower onto the hottest temperature. You pulled him along and swung open the hall closet door. Chris didn't even protest as you pushed him inside. "Be quiet, hide, and I'll get you out of here."

A knock sounded once again, more intense this time as you could hear Hyun-Jae rummaging through her bag on the other side of the door. You were both breathing hard, nervous out of your minds, and you hurriedly grabbed his hand to squeeze it. You leaned up, giving him one more reassuring kiss as you returned his phone to his pocket. "We're going to be fine. You're going to be fine. I got this."

"Don't forget we need to talk," Chris reminded you, quickly cupping your face and kissing your forehead. "There's important things that I've been thinking about that I want to tell you."

"Of course we'll talk. I promise. But just hide for now."

He nodded and you quietly shut the door before you ran back into the bathroom, stripped, got under the stream, then jumped back out and into your robe the next time Hyun-Jae knocked. One big breath, and you opened the door.

"Took you long enough, little sister," Hyun-Jae teasingly clucked as she walked in, still rifling through her bag. "You missed it, that was the most chaos I've been put through all at once in a long time. First Han loses his wallet, then I.N. asks if we can stop somewhere for milkshakes, long after we'd already left In-N-Out. Lee Know and Woojin will not stop bickering about something I couldn't figure out, and Hyunjin is just there, asking if we can do a million things at once. What an absolute nightmare. I have no clue what got into them."

You watched warily, seating yourself on the couch and picking at your tray from room service, the food now cold from sitting. Hyun-Jae sat in the chair across from you with her bottle of bourbon and two more glasses. She poured you each a glass and offered you yours.

"I'm sorry, for what it's worth. For being so hard on you."

You took the proffered glass and cautiously sipped at it.

"It's just, I guess, I was always under the assumption that you were going to be different."

Your eyes narrowed. "You said that earlier. What does that even mean?"

Hyun-Jae sighed. "Of course, you're aware that you're not the first person I interviewed for your position, or even my first intern. I read your profile and application and fell in love with the idea of mentoring you. But I had to be sure, and I was lucky you worked downstairs. So I brought the group to the cafe one day, and you're there, and you make these googly eyes at Bang Chan, and I wonder if this will spell trouble. I gave you too much money while he talked to you, and you chased me down and gave me my change after I walked away from the register. So, I think, you're definitely worth interviewing."

A blush had crept over your cheeks. You never remembered ever making any sorts of eyes at Chris before you formally met, but Hyun-Jae was good at her job for a reason. Maybe she saw something you didn't.

"And I interviewed you," she continued, "I'm good at interviews, because they're fun for me. I'm sure you remember. I came on real strong and real hard, but the important thing was we held the interview while going out for lunch. I had you look up directions and make reservations while we talked, and despite all the multitasking, it didn't faze you. And I was so impressed, little sister. I still am. So I thought that was a perfect omen, that even if your eyes wandered sometimes, that you would always keep your priorities in order."

"They are in order... Unnie."

"I'm glad," she sighed. "Because I got a phone call from management. You're okay for now. I pulled some strings and you should be good as long as you lay low for a little bit. Social media is starting to quiet down, and it seems that only the positive stuff is persisting. So for the time being, you’re in the clear."

A deep sigh escaped you, a giant weight lifted off your chest. But you still felt like you were in hot water. "I'm really grateful, unnie. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"I just," Hyun-Jae fidgeted with her glass, "I know how easy it is to fall for. You get close to these idols and you really feel for them. I've seen it happen a lot. But it's never destined for anything good. I've been around long enough to know that much. What did I tell you when I hired you?"

You stared right into the floor as Hyun-Jae rose from her chair. "You said you'd always do right by me, unnie."

"That's right." She strode over to you at the couch, petting your hair before setting a hand on your shoulder. "I'll always do right by you, even when you let yourself do something as reckless as fall in love."

Your heart sank in your chest as you downed the rest of your drink. "I'm not in love, unnie."

"Good," she gave you a reassuring smile, "I'm glad you're keeping your wits about you. Let's get ready for bed. We've all had a long day."

With that, you were sure Hyun-Jae leaned down to give you a rare hug but, to your horror, she reached lower, grabbing Chris' shirt that had fallen just under the couch. You watched, speechless as she casually walked straight to the hall closet and opened it. Chris' eyes darted from her to you, back and forth. He looked sullen, heartbroken and even frustrated as he met your gaze. Wordlessly, he grabbed the shirt and walked out of your hotel room.

You felt the air punch out of your gut. Why did he look so devastated? Everything fell into place as you let yourself fall back into the couch. Hyun-Jae walked back over, refilling your glass.

"Everyone does it, little sister. You just need more practice."

[To be continued.]

#happy bang chan day #bang chan #bang chan smut #stray kids #stray kids smut #bang chan fanfiction #stray kids fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios

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mailorderfictionalcharacter · 4 years

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I actually wanna thank you for your text post about the weird trend (that is still very much ongoing) about writing articles or talking about Rory as a product of how she was raised or her privilege. Tbh I never really took any of those arguments or even people saying that Logan somehow "taught her about her privilege" seriously because even after their argument over the article, this never happens? And frankly he was more angry with her over the fact that she criticized people that he considers similar to himself, I highly doubt that if Rory was a lower-middle class person on a scholarship to Yale that he even would've extended any support or interest in the article beyond being angry over it in general. Anyway, I think viewers give the show way too much credit sometimes in how it deals with class differences because the truth is it never really does. It never brings up class differences as a topic in Rory's relationships with Dean and Jess or even with Logan, since yeah, Rory does have rich grandparents, but she never lives the rich life the way he does, and you could even argue she's less sheltered than he is since given her and Lorelai's history, as you mentioned they pretty much went through three social classes in different times. The most she does live it is in about 3 months in that period in season 6 when she took a break, and like you mentioned, she never treats it as a fully conscious "I'll be a rich person doing rich people things now", it's literally just her taking up anything because she doesn't know what to to with herself. And aside from having her tuition fees being paid for firstly by her grandparents and then by her father later on, we never really see either of those people have to pull strings in order for Rory to get a job. Sure, her grandparents WANT her to meet people and make connections, but this is never really brought forth as a reason for Rory to like, get a big job she wanted at the New York Times or anything of the sort. And yeah, Rory gets into Yale pretty much because of her grandfather's connections, but even this is never framed in a way that is conscious of how even with the Chilton education and her hard work, you'd need a connection to get into such a prestigious and pretty exclusive Ive League. It's pretty much the same situation in the revival as well, people immediately guessed that she MUST HAVE spent through her allowance left for her by her grandparents, but we literally never see that happen? I believe that even when the head writer was asked as to how Rory was able to fly so frequently between London and Connecticut, her response was "she has a lot of flyer miles saved up". And considering how these writers went back and forth between "Luke has a LOT of money" to "Luke can't even afford a car", they obviously sooner forgot about Rory having a large sum of money prepared for her by her grandparents than make some very Deep message that Rory actually spent all of it because she's a spoiled rich brat or something. In general the show would always bring up class differences as a way to insert relationship drama, and this isn't even framed as a "you have more money than me" scenario, it's often instigated by the grandparents and it's always based around the idea of someone being lesser just because they're not rich, but just as this is quickly inserted is this taken away because the drama has ran it's course now, we don't need any more of it, bye. So yeah, that's my two cents on the matter.

I feel like the way people argue over Gilmore Girls or make jokes about how Lorelai is actually very spoiled because "ugh its just dinner with her family she's asking for all this money and can't even sit through that", or just the general way in which a LOT of people seem to love viewing Rory (which I chalk partly up to them just being desperate to follow this ongoing trend now where we all 'consciously' reassess media we used to love when we were younger and its actually horrible and all these characters that we liked turned into terrible people with bad politics because Subversiveness or whatever. And its not to say that Rory is only ever perfect because she isn't, her story just isn't about a kid turning evil) is a combination of today's times where we're obviously a lot more aware of certain issues and topics than most people used to be 20 years ago, but it's also this weird trend where we have to bash everything that doesn't remotely uphold these bizarre standards that aren't even set right. Yes, Gilmore Girls isn't perfect by far, but 20 years ago it was significant because it featured a cast of women that were in the forefront. Obviously its a product of its own time as everything else is, but it's also pretty unchangeable and even the revival made it clear that the material has just aged and more or less belongs in its own time. And that doesn't mean it's exempt from being criticized, but even it's own awareness of its characters is pretty limited based off of when it aired and was created.

Like.. also thank you very much for sharing this moment of taking Gilmore Girls seriously with me.

In response to:

Honestly there seemed to be a somewhat emotionally abusive element to the Emily-Lorelai relationship. Like, not the type where someone is consciously manipulative or disregards their child’s feelings on purpose, but the type where you try to raise a kid to live a good life without ever reassessing or allowing your child to have agency in deciding what their good life should look like.

For example, I’m thinking about Lorelai’s parent’s trying to force her to marry Christopher but also the little things we’ve seen in flashbacks. Like, the scene where she doesn’t fit her dress because of her secret teen pregnancy and when Emily notices Emily is very critical and tells her to run around the block (because oh, the horror of gaining ~5 pounds and not fitting a dress).

Gilmore Girls isn’t the Perfect Text but it holds a special place in my heart for showing a multigenerational complicated family dynamic. In my own life, my family is complicated with generations of trauma, social norms, discomforts, and what have you regularly clashing and Gilmore Girls will always hold a special place in my heart for embracing messy family dynamics instead of creating sanitized characters.

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metalchick19-blog · 5 years

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The Bowers Gang: How the Guys Would Behave in a Class with Their Best Friend (Male vs. Female) (Anonymous Request)

* Any and all credit for this idea goes to the requestor.

Belch

With a male best friend:

If he were to have a male best friend in class with him, Belch would tell a lot of stupid jokes - a lot. He wouldn’t feel the need to limit himself around someone he had known for so long, and would unleash his arsenal of badly thought-out puns at every given moment... and the worst part is, any best friend of Belch’s would fire even stupider jokes right back. Because of that, when it comes to the degree of trouble the two would get into, Belch and his buddy wouldn’t get punished for anything serious, but they would definitely have to be separated a couple of times for going into laughing fits during class. After a while (meaning after it happened more than 3 times), it’s likely their teachers would stop seating them next to each other altogether... which would just lead to even more laughter as they mouthed things to each other across the room, and made faces to screw each other up whenever one of them got called on for something.

With a female best friend:

Belch would be much the same with a female best friend in class with him as he would be with a male best friend. They’d still mainly only get into trouble for making each other laugh, but would get caught slightly less often than if his bestie were a boy. This is partly because girls are just low-key like that (there’s a reason it’s mostly guys that get called out for pulling crap), but mainly because they’d have an arsenal of semi-quiet “games” to help them get through class alive; chief among these being hangman, tic-tac-toe, and the occasional tickle fight (first to laugh out loud loses). Really, the only noticeable difference between how Belch would behave with a girl best friend in class vs. a boy best friend is that he would pass a lot more notes to a girl bestie than to a boy one - he would rely on them for communication with his girl-bud whenever they got separated, rather than trying to talk to her across the room (again, because girls just live smarter).

Henry

With a male best friend:

If Henry had a male best friend in class with him, they probably wouldn’t even show up more often than not; they’d just skip school entirely and hit up some of Derry’s local hotspots (the arcade, the library, etc.), or go to Henry’s place to screw around while his Dad wasn’t home (making sure to snag some beers in the process). Really, it’s likely that most of their in-class antics would just consist of doing things that got them kicked out of class - they’d never stay for long, because they would always be asked to leave within the first 5 minutes. This could be for doing anything from flirting very obnoxiously (and unsuccessfully) with the girls in front of them, to graffitiing up their desks, to bursting into laughter at random intervals - in general, the two would just be disruptive in every way possible.

With a female best friend:

With a female best friend in class, Henry would still be a delinquent, but he’d be significantly less unruly about it - although he still wouldn’t do any work (he’s allergic to priorities), Henry would at least bother to show up to class, and would only talk to his female bestie in the typical hushed way most kids talk in during lectures; no outbursts or classroom kick-outs whatsoever. The two would whisper sarcastic, judgy comments to each other throughout the class period (whether about the teacher, or the people around them), and would generally just give off the “I’m a cool kid, and I’m not to be fucked with” vibe (i.e. they’d sit at the back of the class and look disinterested together 24/7). They would always partner with one another for activities though, and would pride themselves on never doing anything having to do with what they were supposed to be doing - they’d just use the time to fuck around with whatever materials had been given to them (they make marker wands literally every time their teacher whips out the Crayola products). However, even though he and his female friend would never really do anything, Henry and his girl-buddy would still end up with a good grade in the class... mainly because they’d intimidate their way into groups of smart kids for all the big projects, and the smart kids would do all the work without question because fear.

Patrick

With a male best friend:

If Patrick were to share a class with a male best friend, it would be all-out hell for everyone involved. Two versions of Hockstetter can cause significantly more damage than just one, and the guys would thrive off of each other to no end. Patrick and a male best friend would show up to class religiously (although even their teacher would want them to skip) because they would always be certain to make sure everything was a non-stop shit-show... meaning it would always be entertaining. Although they would never do anything they could actually be “called out” for (if their teacher could find a reason to kick them out, she would), they would mess with their classmates in a lot of annoying ways that were easy to miss: this would include sticking gum in the hair of the two girls sitting in front of them (sometimes using one piece to stick in both girls’ hair, so that when they stood up, they’d be attached to each other), writing sexually charged (and semi-serious) notes to every other student sitting around them, and straight-up being arsonists in the back of the room. They’d even go so far as to coordinate where they sat sometimes to cause extra mayhem on certain days (they once sat on opposite sides of the room just so they could made sex noises at random intervals during the lecture - their teacher couldn’t pinpoint where the noise was coming from). Overall, Patrick and his male best friend would be one of the main reasons teachers are seen as underpaid - no one should have to deal with the kind of crap they would dish out for less than $18 an hour.

With a female best friend:

If Patrick were to have a female best friend in class with him, the majority of their in-class activities would be limited to one thing - having sex/feeling each other up in the back of the room. Any girl best friend of Patrick’s would have to be open to a “friends with benefits” relationship, as he just isn’t the type to be able to keep his hands off a member of the opposite sex after a certain amount of time - even if their friendship started innocently, Patrick would eventually want a chance to get at them. Although the two wouldn’t full-on do it during class (though not for lack of trying on Hockstetter’s part), there would definitely be a lot of making out, hickie-giving, and undercover handsy stuff (you moan, you lose); in a lot of ways, they’d just use the class for foreplay before going back to Patrick’s place for more. Outside of that, Patrick and his girl bestie would just be known for lots of hysterical laughing, and constant (pretty loud) shit-talking.

Victor

With a male best friend:

If Victor were to have a male best friend in class with him... it would honestly be one of the most wholesome experiences Derry High School had ever seen.The two would talk to each other sometimes during lectures, but, for the most part, would just keep their heads down and do what they were supposed to do - no creepiness or unnecessary trouble-making whatsoever. They’d partner together for projects, spot answers to each other during tests, and, in general, would just act like normal, well-adjusted teenage boys. They’d also probably be the crushes of the majority of the girls in the classroom, just because of their easy-going natures and level 99 charm. Really, Victor and a guy best friend would just be kind, smart guys, and that, coupled with their good looks, would make them nothing short of princely to the people around them.

With a female best friend:

With a female best friend in class with him, Victor would be very similar to the way he was with a guy best friend. They’d talk a bit more (and would probably even pass notes during movies and class discussions), but, for the most part, would simply do their work together and try to enjoy themselves while doing it. With a girl best friend though, Victor would do a lot more “cutesy” type things to pass the time - this would include going a few rounds with her cootie catcher whenever she made one (i.e. once every few weeks), doodling things (mostly jokes about the teacher) and passing them back and forth with her during lectures, and whispering inside jokes during ultra-quiet moments to try to make her laugh. Overall though, Victor would be adorable with a best friend in class no matter what. I mean, come on - Victor is Victor.

#henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #belch huggins #victor criss #The Bowers Gang #the bowers gang headcanons #it

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purplepizzaandjam · 4 years

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dear-wormwoods · 5 years

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–> Playlist: Richie Tozier Tells the Truth <–

I said I would maybe post this today and here I am! Posting something when I said I would! Cutting it close though.

So this playlist is like... Richie’s life if everything in the story stayed the same except that Reddie actually happened (so it’s heavily Reddie themed, but this playlist narrative does still include Eddie dying... just fyi). There’s an accompanying Eddie playlist that mirrors this one, but I’m not sure I’m 100% satisfied with the order of things so I won’t post it tonight.

Detailed explanations underneath. Spoiler alert: shit gets depressing.

1. The Barrens: I like starting my playlists with instrumental tracks or something that has limited vocals, and so this was a perfect fit. Moses the Band has an EP that is all about IT, but I’ll have a lot more to say about one I put on the Eddie list. But uh, this does tie in with the final song, Birch Tree, for Reasons.

2. I’m Good: Richie is super insecure but simultaneously really confident in his interests and abilities, so this is equal parts him actually feeling good about where he’s at and him just trying to convince himself he is. There’s also a good bit in there about being there for his friends.

3. Talk Too Much: Self explanatory. Richie talks too much. But this song is also supposed to kind of fit his Eddie flirtation in their youth - that it’s all meant to come off as teasing, but there’s a secret undertone of seriousness there.

4. Best Friend: For once he stops fucking around and actually admits to himself that he has real feelings for Eddie and it’s not a joke. He wants to say something but doesn’t want to ruin their friendship, the classic trope.

5. The Less I Know the Better: This song is less literal, but in this context it’s about Richie knowing that Eddie has an idolization crush on Bill and not wanting to know if something is really happening there. He wants to get over his own feelings, but still wishes that Eddie (my love) would look at him that way instead.

6. Rules Don’t Stop: The recklessness anthem. This is after something does happen between him and Eddie, but he’s trying to play it off like it’s less serious than he wants it to be because he’s scared, and knows that Eddie has internal conflict about what they’re doing.

7. American Money: This one is very much like that idealized vision of teenage love, where everything is new and exciting and feels eternal. This is that brief moment of perfect teen Reddie with love confessions and plans to run away together and all of that good stuff... before life separates them and their families move out of Derry.

8. Float On: This is when Richie is about to move and is reassuring Eddie that they’ll be fine. Life will go on but they won’t stay apart, everything will be okay. He’s optimistic about continuing their lives together after a year or two of separation, but...

9. Time to Pretend: Now this is the point where Richie’s memories start to really fade. After he moves out to California and starts to get involved in TV/comedy/whatever he ends up doing, he gets pretty easily caught up in that fake, desperate, pseudo-celebrity lifestyle where he’s living way beyond his means and making bad decisions, taking nothing seriously, etc.

10. Silvertongue: As he’s growing more successful, he’s realizing just how much of asset his ability to talk his way into/out of shit really is. He’s gaining notoriety, making money, fucking around and breaking hearts, and still making bad decisions.

11. While I’m Alive: At this point, Richie is starting to feel lonely. He’s not making emotional connections with anyone, and something is missing. So at this point he’s living life in the moment, embracing his vices, and neither thinking ahead nor dwelling on the past.

12. Rest My Chemistry: I think that during his adult life, Richie would dabble too much in the party scene. The book says he’s done cocaine “a few times”, but I think it’d be much more of a Thing if he actually had Eddie at one point and then lost him, but doesn’t remember the relationship - just the emptiness it left behind. The “you’re so young” parts of this song reflect, in this context, Richie sort of remembering Eddie when he’s high - in his mind, he sees Eddie’s face as it was when he last saw him, but he doesn’t remember who this person is at all.

13. I Have Made Mistakes: This is the “post phone call” song. At this point, Mike has called the Losers back, and Richie is starting to remember the past. He’s recognizing that he has to go face his fears and reconnect with his past, but he’s not sure how he and Eddie’s reunion will go.

14. Strangers to Ourselves: After coming back to Derry and initially reuniting with the other Losers, it becomes clear that the amnesia has affected them all and they’re really strangers now, having lived entire lives without knowing each other. It’s a bittersweet reunion.

15. Press Rewind: This is like, the Richie Walking Tour song. It’s pretty self explanatory, since Richie is probably the Loser who is most aware that he has experienced a freaky regression since returning to Derry, feeling like a kid again and assuming his same role in the group.

16. Simple Song: Richie and Eddie finally get some alone time that night and reconnect, things get emotional, Richie is finally able to voice how serious his feelings were when they were younger. They reminisce about the days when they were together, look back on all the years they lost being separated, and start making promises that they’ll stay together when all this is over.

17. No One’s Gonna Love You: This is the point at which shit starts to go south. They’re headed into the sewers, and the reality of this high risk situation is setting in. Thinking that he might really die down there, Richie expresses his feelings again and his remorse that they weren’t able to spend their lives together. (Sidenote: the torn limb bit at the beginning of this song was a TOTAL accident I’m so sorry lmao, it’s too meta)

18: Carry You: So this is when Eddie dies. While he’s dying, Richie is trying to provide comfort and make him smile, all while making futile promises that they’ll get out of this and everything will be okay. Extra added layer of irony because Richie isn’t actually able to like... y’know... carry him out of the darkness.

19. Afterlife: This song is symbolic of what I was talking about in one of my other posts, about how Richie is eager to return to his life and forget about Derry and everyone. This is him sort of partly in denial (can we work it out?), partly enraged (scream and shout), and partly asking the universe if it’s actually possible to be okay now. He bounces back and forth trying to process his sudden grief over someone he’d forgotten about for 20+ years, knowing, and hoping, that he’ll be able to bury these memories too. When love is gone, where does it go? Where do we go? In the end, he accepts that going forward will mean that living will be its own brand of afterlife. Nothing lasts forever. (Too meta: this song contains the words dead lights)

20. Birch Tree: So this song is like... meant to be this sort of uplifting epilogue, because Richie does move on with his life, and the memories do fade. He doesn’t fear death anymore, but he’s not sure why. Time will go by, life will fade, and that’s okay now. There is this lovely imagery of the old hometown, Derry, and the river, the Kenduskeag flowing through the Barrens. He’ll go back there, to where he was happiest, when mortality does catch up to him. Eddie will meet him there, and they’ll finally have all the time in the world.

#stephen king's IT #richie tozier #reddie #it meta #my meta #my playlists #music #meta #tozier tea #richiecore #it hcs #my shit #top tier #reddiecore

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fluffymcu · 5 years

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Hide and seek (Peter x reader)

Summary: everyone else left for a mission, leaving you and Peter alone in the tower. Which means you guys have the chance to do one thing: play hide and seek of course!

Warnings: nada, otra vez, maybe just that its long

The tower was empty. Everyone had left to go on a mission and Peter was originally supposed to go as well, but you were quite upset that you were the only one not allowed on the mission, so you fought until you were able to at least get Peter to stay with you, and he didn't mind. The first day was alright, you had watched a movie, baked a cake, played on the trampoline swing in the backyard, and gotten in the pool. But now, it was the 3rd day and everything was getting boring.

"What do you want to do?" Peter asked. "I don't know... whatever you wanna do." You answered. This always happened when you were bored. You would go back and forth, asking each other what they wanted to do only for them to ask you the same thing. "Ooh. I know," he started. "Let's play hide and seek." You rolled your eyes. "That game is boring, we've played it too many times." Peter smirked. He knew how competitive you were and always knew how to get you to do something: A challenge. "Yeah, you're right. Besides, I'd find you in less than 3 minutes. There's no way you could find a good enough hiding spot to stay hidden for more than that." He smiled widely as you turned to side eye him. You knew what he was doing but you didn't care, it worked. "Oh Yeah? Well I bet I could stay hidden for more that 7 minutes." You challenged. "Ok, then." Peter stood up. "It's official. If you stay hidden for more than 7 minutes, you win, and I owe you a dollar. But if I find you in under 3 minutes, you lose." You started to get up. "Ok, game on." You were about to go hide when he stopped you. "Ah, ah, ah, wait. You should know... There's a catch." He started. You rolled your eyes and placed your hand on your hip. "What is it?" "If you lose, if I find you in under 3 minutes, I get to tickle you for 7 minutes. Also, you get 3 tries. So even if you win the first round, you would need 2 more to go. Deal?" Your jaw dropped to the floor as you blushed. Peter loved to hear you laugh and he would always resort to tickling you because it was always a more promising method than any of his lame and outdated jokes. He chuckled evily and rubbed his hands together. "Ugh, fine. It's not fair, but fine." You grumbled. "Great! You've got 30 seconds." He grinned. "What? But that's barely enough time I mean, this is a big tower, I need more time!" You argued. Peter set his watch while nodding. "I agree, you need all the time you can get, so, better get moving... cause if I find you...you know what'll happen." He wiggled his fingers at you teasingly. You immediately ran to find a hiding spot.

Where could you hide? The kitchen? No. The pantry? Nope. The laundry chute? No, scary. None of the bedrooms would work, so where could you Hide? You stopped to think before running to a hallway closet and closing yourself in. You tried to steady your breaths and keep them as quiet as possible. Peter had super hearing so he could probably even hear your heartbeat from many feet away. But you hoped he didn't rely too much on his powers and just looked for you like a normal being. "Here I come!" You heard Peter's voice faintly from the second floor. About 4 minutes later, you heard the elevator ding on the 3rd floor and his footsteps sounded through the halls. You looked out through the very small crack of the opening on the doors and see a shadow walk right by the closet you're in. You let out a small sigh of relief. You hear him shuffling around places. Occasionally hearing an "aha!" Or "gotcha!" You only needed about a minute and a half for it to be 7 minutes. Soon, you heard Peter's watch go off and hear him sigh. You squeal and jump out of the closet and do your little victory dance. "I won, I won, I won, you lost. Haha." Peter reset his watch. "This round. You still got 2 more to go." You went to the 5th floor and hid in a large cabinet in the second kitchen. Peter would never find you here! You steadied your breaths again and waited for the 7 minutes to be up. A few minutes later, you saw Peter run around looking for you as fast as he could. You saw him come around the kitchen and look for you. He started opening all the cabinets and your heart started beating faster and faster, and he was about to reach for your cabinet door when his watch went off. "YYYES!" You cheered and crawled out of the cabinet. Peter rolled his eyes and looked partly upset that he didn't find you in time so you went and hugged him around the waist and rested your chin on his chest, looking up at him. You leaned in the kiss him but pulled away last second to smirk teasingly. "Actually I think I'm gonna go hide again. Gotta make sure I get another good spot so I can take my prize in the end." You walked back from him and saw his eyes narrow and his jaw tense, and you smiled and went to go hide.

You were looking everywhere for a hiding spot but you couldn't find one good enough. You ran out of time as you hear Peter yell out that he's coming. You panic and just decide to run away from him. When you hear the elevator ding, you dive behind an indoor plant in the hallway and thankfully, he doesn't see you. Then when he's out of sight, you run to the living room and throw yourself behind the couch. You see him walk around, looking under tables, and in closets, so you take this as an opportunity to run again, so you do. But Peter saw you run past and didn't say anything. He looked over at his watch. 57 seconds in. He smiled to himself and went in the general direction he saw you leave in.

You had gone into Peter's room, hoping it would be where he least expected it. You closed yourself in his closet and try to throw his clothes over you to blend in. You were already wearing his hoodie so you hoped that would help. You were starting to think you would win this round, until you saw Peter enter his room. Your breath caught in your throat and you wouldn't dare breathe. You saw him look around cautiously until he went for his closet. Your heartbeat was so fast right now, you were sure he could hear it. He opened the doors to his closet and immediately saw you with his clothes badly draped over you. He went and squeezed your side and you screamed. "Oh, look, I found you. And under 3 minutes too!" He said. Your shoulders slumped and you threw your head back. Peter had a prize-winning smile on his face and you tried to run but Peter blocked your path and threw you over his shoulder. "Wahahait peheter, I want a rematch." You hit his back. "Giggling already? I haven't even touched you yet." He chuckled. You slapped his butt with much force. "Hey!" He flinched and slapped you back. "Ohohow, that's what you get for being an ass." You joked. He took you down to the living room and threw you on the couch. Then he straddled your waist and grabbed your wrists in one hand and held them above your head. You started to squirm already and tugged harshly on his hands. "Y/n, do I need to web your arms down?" He asked. "Nohoho." You started squirming more. "Cause I think I do." He put on his webshooter and positioned your wrists together and shot them to the arm of the couch. "Thahats cheating, loser!" He shook his head. "As far as I can remember, you're the only loser here." After that, he immediately started poking your belly, spidering up you sides, and blowing in your ear. "Ahahahaha, dohohont dohoho thahahat! Ihihim gohonna gehet-" You were cut off by him squeezing your hips and you started to thrash around in laughter. "AHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEASE!" He went to massage your thighs and your laughter went up an octave. "What was that, babe? I could quite catch that." You shook your head side to side. When Peter went to squeeze your knees, your laughter was silent. He noticed and went back to squeezing your sides to give you a break. "Ihihim gohonna gehet you bahahahack!" You managed to squeak. "Nah. I don't think you will." Peter lifted up his your hoodie and blew 3 raspberries on top of your navel. "AHAHAHAHAHA GEHEHET OHOHOFF! QUIHIHIT IHIHIT!!" You were so weak right now, all you could do was push on his head with no avail. After that, he went down to your feet and your heart stopped. "NO! NONONONO PETER PLEASE NOHOT MY FEET I'M BEGGING YOU! I'LL DO ANYTHING!" You begged. You hated getting your feet touched. Peter would always try to give you foot massages but you always refused, and when he insisted, you couldn't last a second before shrieking in loud laughter. He paused for a second and smiled. "Fine. Besides, the 7 minute timer had finished like 5 minutes ago, anyway." Your eyes widened. You had completely forgotten that he only had 7 minutes to tickle you and he had kept going for 5 more minutes! "WHAT?! That's so not fair!" You punched him in the shoulder as he got off of you. "Sorry, time flies." He smiled cheekily. "You did it on purpose, you butt." You stood up from the couch and was about to leave when Peter caught your hand and pulled you on his lap. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your cheek. "Sorry I went over time. Can you forgive me?" He put on his baby voice and pouted. You could never stay mad at him. You rolled your eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Fine." He smiled and leaned in to kiss you passionately and you did the same. The rest of the day you ate snacks and took a good long nap.

Sorry if it's really long, I got caught up in it. 😂 @melongiggles

#ticklish!reader #ticklish #tickle fic #tickle #tickling #marvel #peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman

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adeliriouswanderer · 4 years

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American Fascism, Racism, and the Trump Cult

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything on policy or politics. Quarantine has left me with what seems like an infinite amount of time to reflect on our countries current state of affairs—and as cliché as this sounds, it feels as if we are living in dark times indeed.

Since our current regime began in 2016, all of the progressive policies of the Obama era have been eradicated by an egotistical fascist. Far-right and white supremacist ideologies are being pushed as the new normal by those who fear that their position of power is being threatened by minorities and anyone left of center. A center that is very quickly skewing farther and farther right on the political spectrum. Folks who hold these far-right ideologies have historically been threatened by people of color, folks who identify as LGBTQIA, feminists, women’s rights champions, and others who voice opinions that are different than the rights self-absorbed narrative. Especially when these folks attempt to find seats at the decision-making table.

Our current regime fears these opinions so much that they attempt to silence anyone who speaks out against their clearly fascist policies and statements by convincing their base that our voices and opinions are being incited by “fake news” or as Trump loves to call it, the “lamestream media”. This regime has convinced it’s cult-like followers that any media coverage that does not stroke the ego of the POTUS or any coverage that speaks out against his archaic, and often false views/statements, are untrue accusations and that he is being unfairly targeted. Trump continuously lies to his base and the American people, and when he is called out on his lies, both he and his base scream fake news. The POTUS has convinced his base that democrats are sheep to the media who are trying their best to undermine all of the “great” work he is doing for Americans. Despite Trump not keeping his promises to his base, they still follow him with what feels like a Jim Jones cult mindset. Take this video where trump easily brainwashes his followers into ignoring how his he is lining his and other billionaires pockets by attempting to convince his base, who largely consist of poor/working-class white folks, that they are the “elite”:

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They see no wrong in Trump's behavior. How is that Trump has convinced millions of people to blindly follow his every whim? You see, as badly as it pains me to state this, Trump is not the cause of these deeply rooted, bigoted, ideologies. They have been around since the founding of America. Like a festering cancer that sometimes quietly goes into remission, but is still there, waiting for the body to become weakened so that it can make a reappearance. Folks have long held onto their bigoted ways, Trump simply gave a platform where these ideologies could be voiced and he emboldened those who held them to speak out louder than ever. After having a president in office that championed for the rights of minorities, the right was fearful of being forgotten and worried that their ideologies would be silenced. This fear ultimately led right-wing voters to vote for and blindly follow anyone spoke out in favor of their bigoted beliefs. And trump happened to be the loudest and most aggressive at the time. The right touted his down to earthiness and non-political way of speaking. Trump is praised for “telling it like it is” because for a while, at the turn of the century, white folks seemed partly scared to fully voice what they really thought about anyone who wasn’t white and straight. That’s not the case anymore.

I find it appalling that in 2020, I can scroll through the comment section on any article related to race and find a plethora of comments written by white right-wings and conservatives insinuating that there is no race problem in America. They state racism does not exist; they unquestionably believe that there is a level playing field between white folks and people of color, and that white privilege does not exist. Much like Social Darwinist, these folks believe that people of color and folks experiencing poverty are inherently responsible for their less than status in society. That they’re lazy and unwilling to pull themselves up by the bootstraps because it’s more convenient for them to live off of the government-- like the infamously stereotypical welfare queen, a term coined in 1974, by George Bliss of the Chicago Tribune in his articles about Linda Taylor.

These folks fail to realize that people of color and people experiencing poverty are a result of systematic and institutional racism designed to enslave people of color and keep them from sitting at the decision-making table. Further, they don’t understand how poverty rolls off the back of parents and onto children—how hard it is for children to break intergenerational cycles. Take Kaitlin Bennet, the infamous gun girl of Kent State. She hosts a youtube channel where her main “goal” is to “expose the corruption and demoralization” of the “liberal left.” In this following clip, Kaitlin states that there is no racism in America because she is surrounded by people of color on a daily basis, as if their very existence is somehow justification as to why racism doesn’t exist. She states that some lives are inherently more valuable than others and that those who are experiencing homelessness should get a job. When Kaitlin realized she had couldn’t win a baseless argument against two obviously educated college students, she had to resort to personal attacks against James's sexuality. She’s edited out the word racist or racism from her videos because apparently those words demonetize her youtube videos and she loses money for including those words.

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Let’s break down one of the systems that these folks so eagerly deny and blindly ignore-- the prison industrial complex. In the 80s, Reagan turned the metaphorical “war on drugs” into an actual initiative that was put forth by a seemingly racist governmental body whose aim was to create a caste system to ensure people of color would never rise out of poverty. While Raegan solidified these new forms of discrimination against people of color, it was Nixon who set the stage for the systematic incarceration of black and brown people through his Southern Strategy. As civil rights activists worked to dismantle the Jim Crow laws of the south, Nixon and other politicians began to create a strategy that would ensure votes from whites who aligned with both the conservative republican party and the left-leaning democratic party.

The “Southern Strategy” was ultimately a political movement that aimed to garner votes from white Americans from both sides of the political spectrum by antagonizing racialized fears in the white populace. The campaign painted an image that portrayed people of color as deserving of being poor and uneducated-- it pathologized them as criminals and deserving of their second-class place in society because they simply could not rise above their uncivilized ways. Michelle Alexander states:

The racialized nature of this imagery became a crucial resource for conservatives, who succeeded in using law and order rhetoric in their effort to mobilize the resentment of white working-class voters, many of whom felt threatened by the sudden progress of African Americans.

This campaign ultimately led to Reagan’s 1982 War on Drugs, and his later establishment of mandatory minimum sentencing laws, which were enacted through his Anti-Drug Abuse Act of1986. After Raegan’s enactment of AABA, the numbers of incarcerated black and Hispanic men skyrocketed creating an overpopulated prison system that led the way for privatization. Republicans laid the foundation for mass incarceration of people of color, and democrats solidified the systemic discrimination and oppression that would soon follow a person who was formerly incarcerated throughout their life.

The Clinton (D) administration enacted laws banning drug offenders and felons from receiving public assistance in the form of financial aid or food stamps, denying them the ability to public housing, and stripping them of their right to vote. These combined laws on part of both democrats and republicans led to the creation of a caste system that created a populace of second-class citizens, who were stripped of their most basic rights—this group was disproportionately made up of people of color. Less than 5% of the world's population, has nearly 25% of the world's incarcerated population. Black people make up about 13 percent of the U.S population and 31 percent of those incarcerated for drug use—Latinos make up an additional 18 percent of the total U.S population and account for 20 percent of those incarcerated for drug use. It is important to note that crime is equally distributed between all races, but the impact of policies of the 1980s and 1990s has been anything but evenly distributed-- black men are eight times more likely to be incarcerated than white men and nearly a third of young black men are under criminal justice system control.

These laws have persisted throughout the last three decades and allow for a system that systematically discriminates against an entire sub-group of individuals. When formerly incarcerated people are released from prison they have very little support from institutions designed to provide help to the most vulnerable populations in the U.S. They typically can not get into public housing and private landlords can legally turn them away citing their criminal history as a reason. Formerly incarcerated persons cannot receive federal financial aid to further their education-- and if they do manage to pay for school, most jobs will not even look at their resume, much less hire them because of their felon status. Further, formerly incarcerated persons cannot receive public assistance benefits such as food stamps. A lack of social support leaves these individuals at a high risk of reoffending just so they can survive in the outside world, which ultimately locks them into a brutal cycle of flowing in and out of the prison industrial complex.

It seemed like during the Obama era, there was hope; a hope that our country could heal from our divisive history of viewing anyone other than white straight cis men who are most valued, followed by white straight cis women, as something other than less than. Because, let’s be honest, many folks along all lines of the political spectrum have never fully respected the opinions and lives of people of color, LGBTQIA folks, immigrants, etc. We have been and still are, just tolerated. That’s why Obama was a breath of fresh air. He attempted, and sometimes succeeded, in eradicating archaic policies like the militaries don’t ask don’t tell policy, championed for the rights of minorities and immigrants through bills like DACA, attempted to ensure those who were poor had access to health care. President Obama launched the My Brother’s Keeper initiative on February 27, 2014, to address persistent opportunity gaps faced by boys and young men of color and ensure that all young people could reach their full potential. These were just a few of the many ways Obama worked to level the playing field for those who were not born into the western version of the genetic lottery.

What is it going to take to heal our country and end these systems of violence against black and brown people? When are we going to step up and not give media attention and not vote in folks who are so clearly bigoted to positions where they can continue to marginalize already vulnerable populations? When will this hate for those viewed as other, less than, die out? Is this our new reality for the unforeseeable future? The biggest question of all is: when will the right figure out that Trump doesn’t have any of their best interest in mind? When will they realize that he’s sitting on one of his many gold toilets and shitting on America?

I want to live in a country where equity is at the forefront of our minds; where people strive to ensure all of their neighbors have equal opportunity regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, or class. We must continue to use our voices to speak up for the oppressed and vulnerable, and VOTE for folks who believe in an equal and just society. Will 2020 usher in voices into the political sphere that are representative of folks from all walks of life, or will it be the same bullshit we’ve had for nearly 244 years since America was founded?

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ardenttheories · 5 years

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1. Love the new url, it sounds great! 2. If you want to, what are your thoughts on the extent of the knight class’ exploitation abilities? Like, how Dave needs some ability to See timelines in order to be able to exploit them, and how Karkat sees himself as a master of interpersonal relations, though I’m less sure about how that influences his role as a Knight of Blood. Where does the justification “in order to allow for exploitation” end? Dave can travel through time but why? Seems like an heir

Ran out of characters. Where does it end? Dave can travel through time like an heir would, and then wield weapons that pause time like Aradia can, and then travel instantaneously—again, like an heir, and have a sense of which is the alpha timeline, like some sort of knowledge class. And then that’s not even mentioning his awareness of the narrative. Where does it end? Dothe ends justify the means and you can look sburb dead in the eye and say “I need this to exploit my aspect” that’s ok?

Sorry for pestering you so much, I have a habit of not being able to stop my train of thought once it gets going. Last bit: we haven’t really seen much of what happens in a fully realized page in homestuck (Id argue that Steven Universe at the end of his movie is a pretty good example of a fully realized page of heart) but I’m curious how you think the page being exploitational actually manifests in the page’s powers. Sorry this got so long, I’m just curious if you’ve got any thoughts on this

I’m glad you like it! It’s taking a bit of getting used to tbh - I keep going to naturally type sburbtheory instead of ardenttheories. Oops!

I think, in some ways, it’s as important to look at HOW Dave uses his powers as it is to look at WHAT powers he has.

Dave can travel through Time, much like Aradia can. That’s true! But the way Dave uses his Timetravel is quite different to hers.

Whereas she tends to use it to set up things for the longhaul future, to escape danger, to allow for the continuity of the timeline - and thereby follows exactly what she dictates Time to be - Dave is very much restricted to doing only what Time allows him to do.

His Exploitation of Time works because he spends a week in the game in the course of about three hours. He Exploits the Timeloops to make sure that they can get everything done in their very restricted amount of Time before the Reckoning - something even Aradia may not have been able to do. She doesn’t tend to use her Time abilities a whole lot, especially after a certain point (e.g. when she starts spending more time in the Dream Bubbles), whereas for Dave, Exploiting Time to give them more Time is one of his key moves.

In the same way, he Exploits Time to give them more Boonbucks and more Grist so that they can get everything they need extremely quick. Making loops upon loops upon loops of Daves doing things and then becoming those Daves ensures that everyone is able to survive even when the game seems to be actively working against them.

That’s also another thing to consider, I think. Dave’s Exploitations of Time are completely stable. Every single Dave that we see in the second part of Act 5 - which is especially prominent in the panel where Jade tries to focus in on Dave through her compugoggles, which comes up showing 12 different Daves in the timeline at once - is the exact same Dave.

It’s Dave going back and forth through time, seeing his past selves and future selves and then eventually becoming or having been those selves, rather than a bunch of different Daves from different timelines (such as we see with Aradiabot, for instance).

If Dave sees himself and hasn’t been there yet, he knows that it’s something he has to do in the future - otherwise he’ll end up as a Doomed Dave. And Doomed Daves are Dead Daves, which is something he tries his best to actively avoid.

So, in other words, he can travel through Time because he’s Exploiting how Time works for a purpose; to give themselves MORE Time in a session that has almost no Time at all. It oddly works, because he’s still having to exist within the rules of Time, he’s just… pushing them a little bit.

Heirs of Time, on the other hand, tend to have Time bend to their whim. It does whatever they want it to do, and might even push a bit harder at the rules than a Knight can.

They can become Time itself, do more jumps than Knights can (such as jumping through Timelines without becoming a Doomed Self like Dave would), can have Time flow differently around them (which Dave can’t; he has to create stable Timeloops, whereas the Heir could likely just make everything very slow or even stop around them while they kept going at a more natural pace).

In some ways, a Heir of Time might even be able to slow down their own ageing! We know for a fact that Dave’s grasp on Time isn’t that firm; he can’t Control time, just work within its grasp a bit.

I think, honestly, Dave knows what the Alpha Timeline is because he’d be dead if he was wrong. Which is a pretty simple answer? But all Daves that don’t follow the Alpha Timeline tend to end up dead pretty quick, and if he’s not meant to do it, he’ll die as a consequence of trying.

We know he doesn’t really know what makes the Alpha Timeline because there are instances where he just can’t explain things - when Jade tells him to just “do what feels natural” when he asks about his copy of the SBURB Beta (which somehow ends up with her); when he blatantly ignores Rose trying to leave him behind on the Green Sun suicide mission, which turns out to be the right course of action but isn’t something he thought actually NEEDED to happen - and I would therefore have to assume that his knowledge of what is and isn’t the Alpha Timeline stems pretty significantly from an innate sense that “if I do this I will fucking die”. Or, like, he’s just seem a dead self and knows that’s a bad choice.

His awareness of the narrative, from what I can understand, stems predominantly from exposure to Bro (the alternate form of Dirk). I went over that a bit ago, but it seems that Dirk has a habit of imprinting some of his abilities onto Dave, without actually giving him the full access to his powers (such as how Dave is kind of awake on Derse, but not fully; it’s a reflection of Dirk’s ability to be awake on Derse and Earth at the same time, but because it’s not actually HIS power it doesn’t work quite right).

There was more. You can find that specific post here! There’s also a few other posts in the discussion around that time, too.

Essentially, the narrative awareness thing isn’t totally a Time thing, nor is it anything really to do with his position as a Knight - so we don’t really have to worry about that.

So, to make a long post a bit shorter, there’s actually a lot Dave can’t do. He has to work firmly within the realm of Time, and he can’t do anything that would actively break its laws. A lot of Knights are going to work like this; trying to break the rules will make them face colossal punishment, and really all they can do is use what little wiggle room exists in the Aspect to their advantage.

If it would break how the Aspect works, the Knight can’t do it (Dave can’t have Doomed Selves exist in the same timeline because there can only be one Dave per timeline) - but if it can be justified, then the Exploit works (Davesprite isn’t actually Dave, the Player, so it’s accepted by SBURB).

We unfortunately don’t get to see a whole lot of Page Exploitation, which is frustrating, and also tends to be why I focus more on the description of Protecting for both Classes. However, to give it a pretty simple go…

Pages use their Aspect to Protect themselves. It’s actually a fairly selfish sort of Class - a bit like the Thief - and they have to work up to Protecting other people with it.

As such, when they Exploit it, it tends to be for their own gain - and isn’t usually that flashy at first.

Jake Exploits Hope by enabling people to Believe whatever the hell they want about him so they almost always dismiss him as a threat. He manages to talk Jane round in circles when it comes to her feelings for him so he doesn’t have to give her a firm yes or no, and it’s accepted because he’s “a bit of a dunce”, even though, like John, he can actually be fairly smart.

We can also say that he Exploits how goddamn vague Hope is as a concept. Some of the things he does are based solely around his own Belief in them - and that means he’s actually Exploiting his Belief into ensuring that these weird and wonderful things happen.

If we’d seen more of him in actual Hopey combat, we might have seen even more amazing spectacles like the Giant Hope Explosion. If he’d believed in it, he could have Exploited his Belief (or that of others) to make things Real that never should have been real - like Brain Ghost Dirk!

BGD was never actually a real Dirk or a real Splinter of Dirk, but because Jake Believed that he was, he managed to become Real. He gained all of Dirk’s powers even though he strictly speaking shouldn’t have, and almost managed to defeat Aranea single-handedly. And we know he was almost Real because he managed to stay in one place with some form of automony while Jake ran away.

So, that’s an Exploit x2; Exploiting Jake’s Belief in Dirk to actually make BGD in the first place, and then Exploiting Jake’s Belief in BGD’s existence to make him Real enough to actually Protect Jake (and again, this does come back to Protection, because that’s partly what BGD is for).

Like, it’s not technically stretching the definition and abilities of Hope too far, but it’s definitely getting closer to that line than a Knight would be allowed, and it’s very much more personal than a Knight tends to do.

In a way, you can say that Tavros Exploits Freedom and Options by gathering the entire Ghost Army. There’s an unknown number of Ghosts out there that he can use to his own gain, and plenty of Options to choose from with how the Dreambubbles work. Plus, to find Freedom by beating an unbeatable game, using all the dead souls who were never actually MEANT to be around in the first place seems like a pretty good Exploit to me.

Of course, I say both of those with a HUGE pinch of salt. Tavros’ for sure doesn’t really work when you think about how Knights Exploit, and that can be a bit… tricky. Although a lot of that could be because Hope and Breath are very non-physical Aspects that don’t have exact rules? Whereas Time is very distinct and firm, and there’s definite rules you have to obey.

I’ve seen people use Support instead, but I still think Protect works best. In either case,

They’d still have to obey the same rules as Knights, but I think they’d probably find even more wiggle room. They might be able to find the same sort of footing as a Heir, although it won’t come to them as naturally; the Page of Breath, for instance, might not be able to literally turn into the Wind, but they sure as hell could just mysteriously escape every confinement you try to force them into.

How do they keep escaping? Nobody really knows. But they probably can’t escape things that are sealed 100% tight - such as if they were teleported inside a concrete cube - and they probably rely on using the Breeze more than being the Breeze.

E.g. the Breeze can be used to steal back keys. It can also be used to throw rocks at keypads with perfect precision and oh look, the door’s open, lets go.

They might also be able to phase through things, but not actually turn into the wind - so they’re just corporeal enough to get dragged back through if they’re caught.

It might also just be the difference between what they can Exploit. For instance, a Page of Time might not be able to do the same Timeloops that a Knight can because that ability is focused a lot more on helping other people. They might, however, be able to send other things back and forth through time, like a personal Appearifier/Sendificator, because that’s technically not cheating so long as they remember to send the thing back to just a few seconds after they took it in the first place.

That’d be Exploiting how Time works as a fundamental thing, and just how far you can go before you start screwing up the Timeline. In that sense, I think Pages probably have to be VERY careful.

They might also have a better time at Exploiting Time on much more finite scales - such as by reverting time around a specific object because they’re technically not interfereing with the Timeline.

Pages’ powers tend to be more finetuned and a little more dubious without really stepping over into Heir or Witch territory. That’s as best as I can think to explain it, admittedly.

So, while the Heir of Hope could literally become Good Vibes and Positive Feelings, or literally become an angel, the Page of Hope can only spread those feelings if they already feel them, or could just summon an angel/take on its shape - the difference between Spontaneous Positivity and Shared Positivity, or Actually Being and Pretending To Be.

I think that probably makes sense. It might do! Pages are weird, if I’m completely honest, and the best way to understand them might just be to look at what an Heir can do and think, “okay, if that’s how far you can go when you’re actually becoming a thing, how far can you go when you’re not the thing without breaking the rules?”

#page class #knight class #ardenttheories #class analysis #knight of time #long post//#fun-with-colors

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crampdown · 5 years

Text

Cramp’s Comic Recommendations For Fans Of Classic Rock And Co.

Allright here we go. This is my current list of comics/manga/graphic novels you might enjoy if you’re into classic rock. Before we get started I’d just like to let you all know:

- This list is far from being complete. I’m sure there are many more groovy comics out there that I’m simply not aware of yet so if you have any suggestions feel free to add them :)

- I know I said “Classic Rock” but some of my choices may drift into other musical directions

- Needless to say I do not own any of the following images. They all belong to their rightfull owners and I’ll use them as visual reference material only.

- Sorry for eventual misspelling

Let’s go ^^

1. Bob Dylan Revisited

Let’s start with an obvious choice. This is a collection of 13 well-known Dylan Songs, each of them graphically interpreted by a different artist. The most striking feature therefore is the high variety of different art styles. Some of them are cartoony, some are very abstract while others are almost photo realistic.

Dylan’s mesmerizing lyrics have always been inspirational and these beautiful depictions truly are a sight to see.

Including works of Thierry Murat, Lorenzo Mattotti, Nicolas Nemiri, François Avril, Jean-Claude Götting, Christopher, Bézian, Dave McKean, Alfred, Raphaëlle Le Rio, Maël Le Mae, and Henri Meunier, Gradimir Smudju, Benjamin Flao, Jean-Phillippe Bramanti and Zep.

Zep’s take on “Not Dark Yet”

Jean-Phillippe Bramanti’s interpretation of “Knocking On Heaven’s Door”

Definitely worth checking out not only for Bob Dylan Fans.

2. Baby’s In Black” by Arne Bellstorf

I’ve seen several people in the Beatles fandom complain about the lack of Stuart Sutcliffe material when it comes to early Beatles history.

Well, here it is: a graphic novel that focuses on the relationship between Stuart Sutcliffe and fotographer Astrid Kirchherr who took the very first professional photos of the Beatles during their time in Hamburg (1960-61).

Told mostly from Astrid’s point of view this comic presents itself in a grey and melancholic tone that fits the rather sad story. Bellstorf’s drawings are simplified and charming (they remind me of early sixties children book illustrations which suits the setting’s time period)

If you’re interested in early Beatles history (especially their Hamburg days) you should give this one a try.

3. Blue Monday by Chynna Clugston Flores

I really wish I had known about this amazing comic series a few years earlier, not only because this is a slice of life/coming of age story with teenage characters who are actually likeable and relateable but also because “Blue Monday” is an overall highly entertaining depiction of early nineties teen culture/rebellion in an American suburb that comes with a lot of references to Britpop, mod culture, Buster Keaton movies and Adam Ant (to name only a few).

To quote the author herself: “It’s like Archie on crack, with cursing and smokes”.

The art style of Chynna Clugston Flores is very vivid and expressive and has a certain stylistic touch of anime/manga (like a lot of comics from the early 2000s). I also really enjoy all of the graphic fashion details in this one. Plus, this is the first comic with it’s own soundtrack and that’s always a nice bonus.

I’d recommend “Blue Monday” for fans of Britpop, Punk, New Wave and early 1990′s culture.

4. Punk Rock And Trailer Parks by Derf Backderf

Another story about growing up in American small town madness, this time set in 1980s gritty Punk subculture of the former rubber city of Akron, Ohio. Protagonist Otto who likes to refer to himself as “The Baron” becomes fascinated with Punk after attending a Ramones concert. He meets several Pubk icons (thus as The Clash, The Plasmatics, rock journalist Lester Bangs and many more) and becomes someting of a local punk star himself.

Derf Backderf (who is best known for his highly acclaimed graphic novel “My Friend Dahmer” and his Eisner award winning comic “Trashed”) created a comic that is as “raw and dirty as punk itself”. His art style is an unique combination of expressionism, underground cartoons and punk magazines.

“Punk Rock And Trailer Parks” is a must-have for punk fans (especially if you’re into The Ramones and The Clash. It made me a huge fan of both of them).

5. “CASH - I See A Darkness” and “Nick Cave - Mercy On Me” by Reinhard Kleist

Two biographical graphic novels by Reinhard Kleist, both of them tell the story of a fascinating personality in rock history and both of them are incredibly well drawn. Kleist’s art is full of life and movement and very atmospheric due to his impressive use of stark contrasts.

I personally love his semirealistic way of drawing people and I’d highly suggest you to check out his other works too. He made a lot of biographical comics that really amazed me.

CASH

Cave

Definetly worth reading. Not only for Johnny Cash and Nick Cave fans.

6. Nowhere Men by Eric Stephenson, Nate Bellegarde, Jordie Bellaire and Fonografiks

I talked about this one a while ago but I’ll gladly do it again since it’s just too cool. “Nowhere Men” is set in an alternative past/present and future where scientists became as popular as pop stars (catchphrase “Science is the new Rock n` Roll”) but somewhere along the way something definetly went wrong.

The hype of science shares obvious similarities with the beatlemania of the 60s and the founding of Apple back then. Furthermore, the characters are partly inspired by well-known personalities of Rock history. There are many more or less hidden nods and references to musical popculture wich is why I put it on this list.

Nowhere Men is a thrilling sci-fi dystopian that requires an observant reader because there is a lot of jumping back and forth i time and inbetween information. The art style is realistic and full of very vibrant colours.

I found myself reading this multiple times to get all of the details in the world building. A thoughtful and brilliant writing indeed.

7. P.I.L. by Mari Yamazaki

Japan 1983: 17-year-old Nanami couldn’t be more frustrated. Her grandfather loves to spend all of their household money on useless luxury junk and her strict school criticizes her messy hairstyle. Caught between teenage rebellion and responsibility as she tries different side jobs to earn at least a little bit of money, Nanami also has a thing for punk music and overall everything originated from England.

P.I.L. tells the story of conflict between two generations who aren’t as different as they might seem. Sometimes funny and heartwarming, sometimes with a bit of drama this is a charming slice of life/ coming of age josei with a more simplistic but aesthetical pleasing art style.

as the title might suggest, Nanami is a big fan of P.I.L. and other bands of the punk, neo punk and new wave movement such as The Stranglers and The Killing Joke

8. Yellow Submarine by Bill Morrison

A comic adaptation of an animated film such as Yellow Submarine? Yeah, I was skeptical at first too but hear me out: This is really great. Morrison did an amazing job at capturing the trippy and psychedelic feeling of the legendary Beatles film. As the 1968 film used the medium of animation as an actual form of art to accomplish things only animation can do, Morrison did the same thing and used the advantages of the comic medium to accomplish things only comics can do. And it works. It really works.

Every single page of this colourful book has a different panel layout. Some of them are so beautiful and creative that I’d love to have a full-size poster version of them :’D

If you liked the film, if you love the psychedelic age, you’ll probably like the comic too.

9. In The Pines by Erik Kriek

“In the pines, in the pines, where the sun never shines...”

5 Murder Ballads, some might call them dark Country Music, each of them beautifully illustrated by Erik Kriek. Atmospheric, dark and gritty and always on point to match the spine-chilling western-like storytelling of these ballads, great for fans of horror literature a la E.A.Poe.

10. Andy - A Factual Fairy Tale by Typex

Allright folks this is it:

Typex’s “Andy” is by far one of the best comics/graphic novels I’ve ever red. It defenitely is my personal favourite reading of 2019 (and tbh I kinda doubt anything will top this anytime soon)

This is more than just a biographical take on of the most enigmatic pop-art artists of 20th centuary’s America, this is a portrait of the 20th centuary itself. There are so many references to art, history, literature, music and more that I could fill a book counting them all. And of course this is a monument for the medium of comic itself. Typex really managed to show what comic’s are capable of (At this point I’m really sorry I can’t explain it better I’m not good in writing stuff like this yet...)

Visually one of the most appealing things are the different art styles Typex manages to pull off so well for every chapter in Warhol’s life because each of them are a mirror of their zeitgeist. The introduction of Warhol’s childhood during the 30s is drawn in a cartoony style of old news paper comic strips. The chapter of 1967 has a psychedelic edge. The chapter of the early 60s shows similarities with the works of Roy Liechtenstein

So many icons from the 1930s-1980s have a cameo in this graphic novel it’s just amazing. If you’re even remotely interested in anything of this time period you’d definitely should read this. (seriously, READ THIS). But at this point I’d also like to mention that this comic does not shy away from showing very explicit content and sensetive topics (please keep in mind this has a mature rating for a reason)

Yeah so I couldn’t give this piece of art enough praise. It is absolutely brilliant, a masterpiece in every sense and word.I wasn’t too aware of Typex before but appearentely he also did a graphic novel on Rembrandt. I’m gonna read this too.

Some honorable mentions:

California Dreamin` by Penelope Bagieu

I haven’t red this one yet so I can’t say anything more about it. But I wanted to let you know that a graphic novel about the life of Cass Elliot exists.

Before Watchmen: Silk Spectre by Darwyn Cooke and Amanda Conner

One of the prequels of the legendary “Watchmen” by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons. It’ “only” an honorable mention because you’ll have to be familiar with the Watchmen universe to fully get all of the story. This prequel focuses on Laurie Jupeczyk, the second Silk Spectre and her own adventures during 1967, the summer of love in San Francisco.

Hip Hop Family Tree by Ed Piskor

Another one I haven’t fully red yet, but so far I’m loving it. It basically tells the history of Rap and Hip Hop from the early 70s to the mid 80s. The art style is intentionally old-school wich really fits it’s tone and setting.

Fritz The Cat by Robert Crumb

I suppose I can’t make a list like this without at least mentioning an absolut icon of the underground comix movement. Crumb created the adventures of this nasty junky cat during the 60s. Fritz can be seen as a satirical mirror of counter-culture’s zeitgeist.

and speaking of Crumb, his “Heroes of Blues, Jazz and Country” trading cards are neat too...

allright that’s it for now. like I said, if you have anymore suggestions, feel free to add ^^

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mysticsparklewings · 5 years

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Winter Mountain

At last, we have the final painting for the Art Philosophy November Challenge. I'll be honest, I didn't think the prompt, "Winter Mountain," would give me so much trouble when I first noticed it on the prompt list. Oh boy was I wrong! In fact, I think this one ended up being the one that gave me the most trouble out of the bunch. All of the previous four had their challenges, "Summer Beach" in particular being the one that previously had the most practice pieces. But I just had a much harder time trying to conceptualize this one. I ended up with a total of seven different practice pieces before the final, and unlike all the previous prompts none of them were solid enough for me to pick one and try replicating it directly. The funny thing is, this final one was actually me more or less meeting my breaking point. After seven much smaller attempts that weren't objectively bad but just weren't doing what I wanted them to, I decided maybe it would just be best if I went ahead and tried a practice piece on the same size paper I'd use for the final. I had more than one piece left, so if it went south, then it wouldn't be that big of a deal. It was only after I'd started on this one that part of my problem might've been that I'd been practicing incorrectly. I've kept the previous paintings on the same 5.5" x 8.5" paper, but I've been alternating the long and short sides, similar to what I did during Inktober. By that logic, this one should've had the longest side on the top and bottom. By the time I noticed, I was tired and already fed up with my struggles and thus it was out of the question to worry about fixing it. It does make me wonder though if that could've been why I had such a hard time nailing down the concept from the very beginning. Would I have perhaps not struggled as much if I'd been practicing and had my paper turned correctly the whole time? The world will never know. Anyway. I started off the painting by doing one of my favorite things to do with watercolor; a gradient wash. I stopped it with about 1/5 of the page left blank for what exactly I had in mind, going from a soft pinky-purple to a peachy yellow for a "cold" sunset feel. I was a little concerned about how it was going to try because it looked kind of patchy while it was still wet, but fortunately, it seems the paint largely smoothed itself out. Then came the truly challenging part. I'd learned from my practice pieces that I didn't want to just put in a dark color where the mountain part of "Winter Mountain" should be and then bring the snow/winter part back in with white watercolor, because each time I tried that it ended up looking more like just regular snow-topped mountains and not winter-specific mountains. But I also had a hard time replicating one practice piece where I miraculously put down just the shadow part of the mountains and was able to carve out the shape, even though I did really like the way it looked. (That practice piece came out looking a bit simple for my taste otherwise, but that was partly because of it's much smaller size and me being scared I was going to ruin it at any moment.) But I decided to try my luck regardless. As a result, the mountains here ended up being a sort of mixture of the "shadows only" and "add white to the top" methods. I started out trying to just leave the part that was supposed to be white alone and only add the shadows to create the shape of the mountains, and while that worked, for the most part, I did get a little carried away in a few places. And to be fair there was a little too much of the color from the background poking through to suit me too (though a little of it poking through in some places, a lot of which is still visible, I think adds to the sunset illusion, as naturally, the snow would reflect some of the colors). So much like in my practice pieces, I did end up playing a little bit of back-and-forth between the shadow color and white. And while I'm sure it's still not perfect and there are many watercolor puritans out there ready to scrap me other the coals, I think it turned out okay. While the mountains did their drying, I went in and added what's supposed to be a river, which on both practice pieces I incorporated it into in a similar fashion ended up looking more like just some strange part of the ground. Fortunately, here in the final, I was a little more careful and particular and so it looks more like actual water here. I think. Although realistically it should probably be frozen over and thus not as dark, I digress. Then I very carefully added some shadows/shading to the ground and did my best to blend it with the base of the mountains so that it didn't look like I just forgot to paint that area. Snow, as it turns out, is trickier to paint that one might imagine. Or at least than I would imagine. Especially with watercolor where the primary way to get white is to normally leave the white of the paper. It's odd trying to balance the right amount of white that gets left alone with just enough shadow that it doesn't look like a mistake. While that all dried, I pondered what else I could add. Mountains, a river, and the moon I knew I was going to add later...that's fine and good and all, but that alone leaves something to be desired. I decided to take a risk and used some more of the bluish-gray I'd mixed for the snow shadows and added some mountains that were meant to be further in the background to add a little more interest and fill out more of the paper, as I had put the original mountains in a little low on the page. Then I went in and added my moon and some stars white the white watercolor. (Not my white gel pen for a change!) That all came out pretty subtle since the main white I was using tends to sink back into the paper/colors underneath pretty noticeably. And to this day I still don't know if it's because it's a pan watercolor (as my white from the tube doesn't seem to do that, or at least not to the same extent) or if it's just because of whatever white pigment was used to make it. Either way, I'm okay with that here as it seems more fitting for the moon and stars to be more subtle in this type of sky. I was very very tempted to add some trees--evergreen, specifically--to liven up the landscape a little, but I'd already experimented with that in practice and even when I went back and added some teeny-tiny trees to a few of my practice pieces just to see how it would look and work, they just didn't look that great and I didn't feel like I could create them in a reliable way. If that makes sense. So that was out. Instead, I ended up settling on adding some springs of grass/plants poking through the snow. It's not something we usually think about, but I've seen it for myself that even in the dead of winter with a thick blanket of snow on the ground you can still often see the holdovers from warmer weather poking through. It's not quite the same, but I do think it helped add that little bit of life I was looking for. It was still missing something though, and after some thought, I decided that something was birds. This time, instead of just going in as usual and free handing the birds and their flying positions myself, I dared look up a reference of birds flying in a v-formation and based them off of that, which I quite like. And at first, after I finished it, I still wasn't quite sure if I was totally happy with it. In all honesty, I think I was just a little burnt out on snowy mountains for the night and I was tired and just really wanted to be done. Looking at it again today, I feel better about it. I'm still not sure it's good as it could be, but it still looks pretty nice anyway. And...it's done. I am th-rough this freaking challenge! I'm not mad at what I managed to create from the five prompts, but I do know I'm going to be a little more discerning the next time I think about participating in one of Art Philosophy's monthly challenges. "Landscape" was a bit overzealous of a category for me. The funny thing is I'm still not sure I understand how 5 prompts spread over every 2-3 days ended up being more taxing and time-consuming than 31 prompts with one for every single day. The best I can figure is it's just that much different between full watercolor paintings and poems with ink backgrounds. Whatever the case, it's done. I made some satisfactory paintings and now I can go back to simply creating as the inspiration strikes me. That being the case, hopefully, one of the next things up will be another marker illustration, as while all this painting business has been going on I've had a bit of an interesting story going on behind the scenes... ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble | Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

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