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olivetreehugger · 3 years ago

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SnK Scouts/Veterans as Health Care Workers

Note: features Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Levi, Erwin and Hange. A part two to my “SnK Warriors as HCWs” post found here. warning: mentions of blood, trauma, gore (it’s healthcare). Also, I know Hange is nb, I headcanon them as female, so I will be using she/her pronouns.

Eren: this boy is definitely too involved in everything and has too many people depending on him at once to not be a nurse. The kid barely passed the NCLEX but that didn’t stop him from applying to every trauma center within a 25 mile radius of him. He got hired as a night shift trauma ICU nurse and he frequently picks up shifts in the ER. He wears the cheapest scrubs he can find, often stained with ink in the pockets area. He isn’t a shitty nurse per se but there are tasks that still need to be done at the end of his shift and he gives a crappy report that’s missing too many details. Nurses hate picking up his patients, it’s always a mess. His charting is really spotty and he gets called into the manager’s office all the time to fix it.

Still, he tries really hard to improve his time management and skills. He wants to be like his friends Mikasa and Reiner, who are the best nurses he knows. He wants to be involved in the traumatic cases and emergencies because he wants to learn as much as he possibly can. He’s really good at wound care, for some reason (hint hint). He’s kinda cocky sometimes too, which can be troublesome when Dr. Galliard is working. People know to steer clear of those two when they’re both in the ER. Also, Eren always has a black cloud around him; whenever he works it’s gonna be a hella busy day in the hospital. Lots of emergency surgeries, intubations, codes and deaths. He’ll always jump in to help you if your patient is crashing, though, no matter how busy he is.

Mikasa: she’s a prodigy. She was a straight ‘A’ student in nursing school, got a perfect 75 on the NCLEX and was immediately hired to the trauma ICU after doing a short internship there. She worked night shift for a year but her sleep schedule was so so fucked she started having night terrors, so she switched to day shift. Eren still calls her a traitor for it :/. She keeps trying to get him to switch over but he just hisses at her and threatens to chug a case of Monster energy drinks. She hasn’t given upon him yet, though.

This girl’s work ethic is beyond measure. She comes in exactly at 6:30 am, looks up her patients, takes report, gives a great update to the doctors when they round, and provides impeccable care to her patients. She knows exactly which treatments the doctors will order before they even speak. She’s incredible at inserting IVs--everyone in the hospital knows Mikasa Ackerman can put an 18g in a 90 yr old lady’s arm AND get blood return (just trust me, it’s flipping impossible). She has great skill when it comes to emergency situations and is a big believer in team work. If she notices your patient’s crashing and you don’t know what to do, she’ll calmly coach you and save your patient, too. All before lunch time.

It doesn’t take Mikasa long to be promoted to charge nurse. When she’s in charge all the reports, paperwork and audits are completed before shift change. She divides the patient assignments really well and is very fair to the new grads. All around she’s an incredible nurse and leader on her unit, but don’t be fooled. If it’s been a rough day, Mikasa will get in her car and sob so loud her throat goes raw. A lot of people depend on her and working in a trauma ICU is really, really demanding. A lot of patients are demanding, rude and busy. She has a lot of trouble with stress management and is thinking of cutting her hours down so she can catch a break. Someone please hug her <3

Armin: for some reason my brain is just SCREAMING respiratory therapist. Like, I imagine this beautiful blond boy in gray scrubs (the color for RT’s in my hospital) going around helping intubate patients, giving nebulizer treatments and doing blood gases. I can just see him huffing and puffing when the attending doctor is overzealous about weaning vent support. -“Why are we changing the patient to pressure support? do you see how tachypneic he is on volume control?”

-“are you gonna put in the order? if not, your patient’s gonna be on PRVC all day, I’m not changing it without an order”

-“Doc, the patient looks like crap and their blood gas looks like death...oh, you still wanna extubate? ok, well I’m gonna leave the ventilator in here just in case. better yet, let me call a pastor in here, too.”

This kid is sassy af and he knows it. He’s smart af too, knows everything there is to know about the lungs and respiratory care. Knows every ventilator mode better than most doctors. Will certainly tell a resident off for ordering the wrong type of inhaler for a patient. He’s so damn intelligent that he even made the ice queen Annie melt like a popsicle.

He has no chill when it comes to his patients and even less chill (like -4078875874670) when a doctor gets in his way. For this reason, Armin has recently been toying with the idea of going to PA school so he can have a little more autonomy. He works al over the hospital, usually frequenting the trauma, CV, and medical ICU. The nurses there love him.

Jean: Jeannie boy. Baby. Sweetie. He’s also a nurse. He is strictly dayshift and trauma. When he first started, he thought he’d do a year in the ICU and then go to CRNA school. He didn’t want to be around sickly patients with hopes and dreams and fears--it was too icky for him. But, over time, he learned that he LOVED trauma. Jean loves the controlled chaos that comes with the ugly, bloody messes that roll in through the ICU’s doors. He always gears up for trauma season (summer time) by bringing Dunkin Donuts iced coffee for everyone on the unit (day and night shift because he’s a supportive king). He gets really good at dealing with arrogant trauma residents and ortho docs who think they’re hot shit. When Jean sees a resident yelling at a nurse, he jumps in and threatens to have their license revoked. He will dig under their skin and page them incessantly throughout the day, too, just to get back at them. Jean is not a fan of lateral violence in the workplace, no sir.

He always, always makes sure every room is stocked and new bags are hanging for the next shift. He has a thing where if things aren’t properly organized on the unit his brain just spazzes. He’s on the unit council and education committee because he also loves to teach the new grads. He also doubles as charge nurse, when management can’t be there (there can be one or more charge nurses amongst the staff, they usually work different days, though) He and Mikasa work so well together, teaming up to get tasks done, coding patients, running them down to get scanned, etc. People joke they’re the mom and dad of the unit. It makes them both blush <3 (Eren doesn’t like it, lol)

Jean loves to see patients healing from horrendous injuries, he’s constantly cracking jokes with the awake patients to try to make them feel better, and he’s really good at calming anxious family members down. Our boy just makes such good connections with people. He’s the guy you call when your confused patient is one second away from ripping his breathing tube out. He can convince the most restless, agitated patient to chill out. He’s got the voice for it. Also people love his mullet. It looks great.

Connie: I really didn’t know at first but I feel like Connie would make a great physical therapist. He’s got great energy, he’s funny and I could see him dancing to Earth, Wind & Fire in front of his patients to hype them up for therapy. He’d be very sweet with them

Sasha: I’m sick and tired of the food jokes, quite honestly. She’s more than that. In my mind, she’s an occupational therapist, helping disabled patients learn to feed, dress and clean themselves again. She works directly with Connie as they round on all their patients in the hospital, they make a great team! She’s extremely patient and would make a very good nurse, but is unsure of where life is taking her. That is until she meets Niccolo the dietician in the cafeteria, and she falls hard. He encourages her to follow her heart and she does!

Levi: Hm. This one stumped me. Levi is a bit...cold. It’s not like he has incredible social skills. He’s meticulous and focused and kinda mean? He reminds me of an anesthesiologist, tbh. Like he’ll sedate the shit outta you for surgery, makes sure you don’t die on the table, and then drops you off to the unit as fast as he can. He never takes off his mask while in the hospital and he scrubs maybe four times before surgery. He is very good at medication calculations and knows everything about nerve blocks, intubation, pain medication and sedation. He can look at a person and just KNOW what kind of sedative to give and how much. Your blood pressure will never bottom out while he’s there, he’ll warn the surgeon and immediately get that norepinephrine started.

If Zeke is the one operating, Levi is on his ass to finish up the surgery ASAP and to not linger, because Zeke takes his time and ignores the tele monitor alarming in the background. After surgery, this 5′2 demon will scream at the 6′ resident about the importance of blood pressure management and sedation in neurosurgical patients. Levi plays no games and he also just really hates Zeke lol

He seems like a jerk but genuinely cares about getting his peeps through surgery. His favorite surgeon to work with is Hange Zoe, because she’s brilliant and fast, but also cognizant of her patient’s hemodynamics. Levi likes taking trauma cases as long as it’s with her. When he drops a patient off to the trauma ICU or goes there to intubate, he makes sure Jean or Mikasa are there because he knows everything is gonna go smoothly. He trusts them a lot. He likes Armin, too and even let him intubate a few times. On his breaks, he’s drinking tea and reading a Williams & Sonoma catalog or scrolling through cleaning Tik Tok lol.

Erwin: This man. This beautiful and hunky beefcake. Omg. I HC him as someone who went to nursing school, became a charge nurse on the trauma unit back in the early 2000′s and fell in love with it. Erwin would eventually fall in love with leadership and educating, too. He went back to school and earned his Doctorate of Nursing Practice (a practice doctorate). He managed the trauma unit for ten years before his brilliant leadership skills and wicked smart brain got him elected as the Director of Trauma Surgery recently. He is the first person with a nursing degree and DNP to ever accomplish this, so it’s very controversial. A lot of toxic doctors threaten to leave the hospital for this (because they’re assholes), but Erwin threatens to fire them in response and it usually shuts them up.

He often holds lectures in the hospital auditorium. With a mind and voice like his, people are so drawn in by him. He advocates for nursing staff, for reimbursement when continuing their education, better staffing, parking, etc. He makes nice with doctors and gets them to sign petitions for the nurses to get these things. He’s a bit manipulative He’s also a fantastic manager and director, he’s really good at negotiating things. The nurses and residents all love him because he rounds on every ICU frequently, brings food, and asks them how he can help. He can be a bit daunting because of his height and deep voice but once he starts talking to you, you just get sucked in. All around an absolute king.

Hange: This character reminds me of a trauma surgeon and intensivist (ICU doctor) we have, Dr. Omi. A great surgeon, really really smart, but takes absolutely NO bullshit. She will yell at you if you freeze during intubating. She wants you to recite every step before you take it, otherwise she’ll take the tube from you and do it herself. In surgery, she’s the same way. She wants you to learn, but by her standards. If she asks a question, you better know the answer or fess up right away, she doesn’t like the “uhms” of uncertainty as you try to search for a shitty response. Either you know it or you don’t. And if you don’t, she’ll teach you. Yeah she can be rough around the edges, but she’s got a big heart. She loves her trauma team. She buys them breakfast and gives them funny personalized gifts. One time, she bought an apply tree for Mikasa and brought it to her car at the end of a shift. Mikasa forgot to plant it and it died in her backseat. Hange will sometimes ask, “Mikasa, how’s your apple tree growing?” and Mikasa will lie through her teeth. “It’s growing!” Fess up, Mikasa. Those google search apple trees are starting to look familiar.

All around Hange loves to work and teach. She is a wonderful trauma surgeon and has saved tons of lives.

#snk headcanons #attack on titan #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #jean kirstein #connie springer #sasha braus #levi ackerman #erwin smith #hange zoe #lama writes

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shireness-says · 4 years ago

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The Set-Up Scam

Summary: They’ve always been friends first and foremost - Emma and Killian, Killian and Emma - until suddenly, they’re something a little more too. But with a $600 betting pool on the line about when they’ll actually get together - well, maybe there’s incentive to keep the good news a secret. ~5.5k. Rated T for language. Also on Ao3.

~~~~~

A/N: Merry Christmas, @nevertothethird! I was delighted to be your pair for @cssecretsanta2020. It’s been wonderful chatting with you, and I look forward to a full stalking. ;)

You said you liked secret dating, friends to lovers, and characters being forced to work together - so I, like a fool, tried to include all three. I hope you like the result!

Special thanks, as always, to my beta, @snidgetsafan - the greatest treasure under any tree.

Tagging: @ohmightydevviepuu, @welllpthisishappening, @thisonesatellite, @let-it-raines, @kmomof4, @scientificapricot, @thejollyroger-writer, @superchocovian, @teamhook, @optomisticgirl, @winterbaby89, @searchingwardrobes, @katie-dub, @snowbellewells, @spartanguard, @phiralovesloki, @profdanglaisstuff

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

They’re friends, first and foremost. Best friends, really - Killian and Emma, Emma and Killian. Partners in crime and two peas in a pod and every other cliché there is (and Killian would definitely know all of them). It’s been that way since the very beginning, when Killian let her peek at his attendance quiz answers in that awful intro to astronomy class in college. Their relationship had grown from there: late nights in the library and each others’ dorm rooms, studying or watching movies or chatting, all the way through graduation and eventually grad school. They get each other in a way that usually doesn’t happen for Emma, both coming from rough backgrounds and determined to make the world a better place because of it. Hell, they even work together now at Misthaven County Middle School - Killian as an English teacher, and Emma as a guidance counselor.

And all that time, it’s been strictly platonic.

It’s not like Emma hasn’t looked. He’s an objectively good looking man, and smart and sweet and funny. But he’d been in some “it’s complicated” situation with a grad student when they’d met, and then Emma was in that weird period where she and Graham gave it a shot, and by the time they were both available… well, by that time, they’d been Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. A collective, a pair, absolutely entwined every way but romantically. He’d become her person, and it wasn’t worth risking that. There was no guarantee a romantic relationship would work out, anyways - or that Killian felt the attraction too.

The thing, though, is that they’re Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. Always together, always in each other’s stories, two birds of a feather. People constantly think that they’re together - or should be.

Emma doesn’t really mind, most of the time. She and Killian usually think it’s pretty funny, trading stories back and forth on his or her couch. Where it gets annoying is when each and every one of their friends are determined they should be dating. It’s been years of meaningful looks and hints about “so why aren’t you seeing anyone, Emma?” - but the last straw is the stupid, stupid bet.

“I just don’ unnerstand why you and Killian aren’t a couple!” slurs Mary Margaret, assistant principal and friend, at her yearly end-of-summer bash. “You’re ovviously in loooooooooove.”

“Sure we are, Mary Margaret,” Emma placates.

“But why haven’t you yet?” she demands. “You made me lose the pool!”

That draws Emma up short. “I’m sorry, what?”

The little pixie-haired brunette frowns. “Don’t you know? We’ve had a betting pool going for ages about when you’d get together this year. I thought for sure it’d be the Fourth of July.”

It’s a good guess, actually - Ruby throws a famously boozy bash every year at her grandmother’s diner, conveniently situated right below the inn. It’d make sense for them to get drunk and take things upstairs - except for the fact that none of this is rooted in sense in any way, shape, or form.

“That obviously didn’t happen,” Mary Margaret frowns sorrowfully, staring down into her plastic cup full of god-knows-what. It doesn’t last long, though, as she perks right back up. “But they let me make a new guess! I’ve got my money on the Friday after your birthday.”

“How much money are we talking here?” Emma can’t help but ask. It’s like a compulsion, one she doesn’t like or understand.

“Five hundred and fifty dollars.” At least that’s what she thinks Mary Margaret says; the slurring gets particularly bad on the f-sounds. It’s an astounding sum. Truly stupid.

Kind of tempting.

“And everyone bet that it would happen this year?” she makes sure to clarify.

“Yup!” Mary Margaret pops the p-sound and then giggles to herself about the noise.

“Then I’m putting fifty dollars on it not happening this year. That Killian and I won’t get together.”

———

She means it at the time, too. Because yeah, there’s sometimes that niggling little what if?, but they’ve known each other for eight years. Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. It’s not going to happen - honestly she’s not even sure she would want it to.

Until.

It’s not the Friday after her birthday, when they’re all going to hit the bar, but it’s the night before her birthday - a Tuesday. Killian comes over to grade vocab quizzes and eat greasy pizza, and stays to drink beer and watch stupid baking shows with her on the couch. Honestly, in so many ways, it’s a night like any other: two friends, just enjoying each other’s company.

Until.

Maybe it’s the beers. Maybe something’s been building for longer than she ever thought. Maybe it’s just that they’re both feeling good and, well, it is her birthday. But Killian kisses her - or she kisses Killian - they kiss each other and it’s like something slots into place. Like of course this was going to happen - they were just waiting for the perfect moment. It makes sense, in a way that Emma hasn’t let herself think about; he’s the person she trusts most, the best man she knows, probably the most important person in her life. Her best friend - and, probably, something more.

“That was…” he gasps, some indeterminable amount of time later. Somehow, he’s wound up on top of her on the couch - not that she’s complaining.

“Only the beginning,” Emma completes, smirking in a way she definitely picked up from him.

Now that this has started, she has no intention of stopping.

———

“Ok, don’t kill me - or, like, run away immediately - but I need a favor. A huge one,” Emma says much later, both of them naked and sated beneath her sheets.

Killian laughs beside her, peering up from the pillows with a smile. “After that, darling, I’m predisposed to give you just about anything you want.”

“And I’ll give it to you again,” she quips back, mostly to make him keep laughing. It works. “But seriously. Did you know that everyone’s got a bet going on us?”

That pops his head up. “I’m sorry, a bet? I… What? Who?”

“Seems like pretty much everyone. Ruby, Mary Margaret, David, Robin, Belle… I could go on and on. A six hundred dollar pool on when we get together.”

“Typical,” Killian mutters - though Emma catches a fond note in his tone. “Who’s the lucky winner, then?”

“Ok, this is where the favor comes in.” Hopefully this isn’t a breaking point for him; Emma would hate to have this taste of them, only to have it ripped away from her. “See, Mary Margaret told me about this when she got trashed at the back to school party, and I’d had a few too and was all hopped up on righteous fury or whatever, and I kind of… put fifty dollars in the pot that we wouldn’t get together this year at all.”

Killian stares at her for a moment, and Emma’s frankly scared that he’s going to get out of bed and go - but instead, he bursts into a near-hysterical cackle. “So you want to keep this a secret until the new year, so you can win the pot?”

Emma grins, knowing she must look like the cat that ate the canary (or however that weird-ass saying goes - again, English is Killian’s thing). “Exactly. We could spend it on a weekend getaway or something.”

“I’m in, then. Under the radar.”

“It’s just two months and change,” Emma says. “It’ll speed by. How hard can it be?”

———

Turns out - their friends are determined to make it as hard as possible. Even if they don’t know it.

Things are fine, at first. In fact, nothing really changes: Emma and Killian still show up at each others’ doors most nights, and Killian comes to hang out and grade papers in her office during his free periods most days. It’s just that their evenings are now filled with kisses and touches, and those afternoons in her office with all kinds of promises of things to come. It’s thrilling, in a way, to put on the front of normality for everyone else while only they know the truth. It’s nice, too, to be able to get their feet underneath them in this relationship without so many prying eyes watching them figure it all out.

Just because they don’t know, though, doesn’t mean their friends stop trying. There’s a bet on the line, after all, and their friends have never exactly been ones to step back and let things naturally run their course. Not for those busybodies; not with six hundred dollars and Emma and Killian’s supposed happiness on the line.

(The fact that they’re right - that the two of them really are happiest together - is irrelevant.)

David, of all people, is the first to start meddling.

“Do you guys want to get dinner?” he asks out of the blue one day - calls Emma up on her phone and everything. “You and Killian and me and Mary Margaret, I mean.”

Emma’s antenna raises immediately. “What, like a double date? C’mon, David —”

“No! No,” he says hastily - a little too hastily, Emma thinks. “No, a cousin of mine - Kris, you’ve met him - he’s opening up his own restaurant. Some place with Scandinavian food, I guess?”

“That’s actually a thing?”

“I guess. I don’t know, he studied abroad in Norway in college. Anyways, he could use a little business, support or whatever, so Mary Margaret and I figured we’d bring some extra people along. You know, help him out. And maybe Scandinavian food is good after all.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

The line sits silent for a moment, before David breaks. “So… you in?”

And as much as Emma suspects this is all some elaborate set-up - well, it’s supposed to be to help someone else. David’s cousin, who she has in fact met and is really a good guy. And so she reluctantly agrees. “Yeah, I’m in. One of us will have to check with Killian if he’s available —”

“What, he’s not right there with you?”

(He is, his lips kiss-swollen and pulled into a delicious smirk, but that’s not the point and none of David’s business.)

“ — but yeah, I’m down.”

In the week between the call and the dinner, Emma actually finds herself starting to look forward to it. Yeah, it won’t be a real date - not with David and Mary Margaret there - but it’s still a chance to wear a pretty dress that’ll make Killian’s eyes bug a little. She’ll have to pick something he’ll have fun taking off of her later, once they’ve pretended to go back to their own homes.

Emma’s just pulling into the parking lot, however, when her phone rings, David’s name popping up on the screen.

“We’re not going to make it tonight,” he says without preamble, followed by the most fake-ass cough Emma’s ever heard in her life. “We’re sick.”

“Yeah, sick off your own lies,” Emma mutters. “Alright, well, I guess we’ll go another time —”

“Oh no, I insist you guys still have dinner. You and Killian deserve to have a night off!”

“David, c’mon, don’t play dumb —”

He ignores her. “Besides, you’ll be doing me - and Kris - a huge favor. I already told him to charge whatever you guys get to me. Splurge a little, have dessert and a bottle of wine. It’s all on me.”

Killian climbs out of his own car as David pleads his case, cocking his head in confusion at the no doubt frustrated look on Emma’s face. He looks like he wants to kiss it better; Emma wishes he could actually do so.

“Fine,” she caves. “If you’re sure. But I’m running up the bill.”

“You say that like it’s a surprise.”

Emma takes particular glee in ending the call. She should have seen this coming. “Looks like David has come down with a possibly fatal cough, so he and Mary Margaret aren’t coming tonight,” she tells Killian, rolling her eyes. No need to resist that particular urge.

He snorts. “Ah, liar-itis. I thought he might be coming down with a case.”

“Complicated by meddler’s cough. Don’t forget that.”

“Of course not.” He dips down to capture her lips in a gentle, lingering kiss - another urge they don’t have to resist with none of their friends around to see it. “You look lovely tonight, Swan.”

She smirks back. “I know.”

“Of course you do,” he laughs. “I’m sure you wore that just to torment me through dinner. Now, shall we?”

“We shall.” Emma slips her hand through his offered arm. “Dinner’s on David, by the way.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

———

“So, how was dinner?” David asks the next day, his cough mysteriously cleared up.

“Good,” Emma replies, knowing exactly what he’s digging for. “Your cousin’s got a good lingonberry cheesecake. Don’t worry, Killian and I totally ran up the bill. Kris has been well supported. You’re welcome.”

“And?” he demands.

Emma makes sure to play up her confusion. “And… what? It was a great dinner, might even go back if I ever have a date, and then I went home. Honestly, what did you expect to happen, David?”

Even through the phone, she can almost hear him audibly deflate. Something like a sigh, or perhaps the sound of his entire plan collapsing in on itself. Personally, Emma thinks it’s hilarious.

(It’s especially funny when she vividly remembers the way Killian had stripped her out of that dress, can still feel the scratch of his beard on her inner thighs.)

(But again - those are things that David doesn’t need to know.)

———

The set-ups multiply like rabbits, and Emma starts to notice her and Killian being forced into more and more situations together, just the two of them. Fuck only knows why they think these clumsy attempts will work; after all, Emma and Killian held out for 8 years of each other’s company before finally getting together (without anyone’s help, she might add). Still,

Trivia night is a weekly tradition for them all, down at the Rabbit Hole. Some weeks, the turnout is good; sometimes, not so much. They usually meet up at someone’s house and carpool from there because there’s not a ton of parking spots outside the bar, and it’s always worked well - two, maybe three cars instead of a half dozen or more. It’s a good time, and Emma always finds herself looking forward to Thursdays.

Tonight, they’ve met at Robin’s, Killian’s former roommate. It’s a good crowd tonight, too - Robin and his fiance Marian, Mary Margaret with David, Belle the librarian, Ruby and Mulan, even Graham and Lance and Tink. The gang’s all here, probably trying to let loose a bit before holiday obligations set in, and they’re raring to go - all twelve of them.

Emma hopes that it’s not planned - that there just happen to be two cars and then some worth of people here - but it’s more likely planned. Robin probably twisted their arms to come, just for this.

“Emma, would you mind checking the door one more time?” he calls as they congregate in the driveway. “I’m sure I locked it, but I’ve just got that niggling little feeling…”

“Sure, no problem.” And it isn’t - it’s checking the damn door. Except it’s actually winding down his stupidly picturesque front garden path to the front door, and then having to maneuver around the always-unlocked outer glass door to make sure that the real door is locked, and then maneuvering and winding and everything back… and by the time Emma makes it back, everyone’s already piled into Mary Margaret’s station wagon and Robin’s little SUV, even the middle seats everyone usually hates, leaving just the conniving man himself and Killian standing on the asphalt.

“Sorry, looks like the two of you will be riding together,” Robin says, not seeming remotely sorry. “This is convenient anyways! I know how much time you two spend together, if you decide that it’s easier to crash together afterwards… it wouldn’t be a problem for the extra car to stay here overnight.”

“Oh, I’m sure it wouldn’t be,” Emma grumbles. “I don’t suppose you have any underlying motive here, do you Robin? Say, to the tune of six hundred dollars?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he responds cheerily. “I just really, really want you to know that you can keep your options open. And, you know, other euphemistic things if the urge moves you.”

Asshole.

(Emma does not leave her car at Robin’s overnight - but that doesn’t stop Killian from meeting her at her place afterwards.

“This euphemistic enough for you, love?” he teases as Emma pulls at his shirt, trying to tug the cotton tee over his head.

“How’s this for a euphemism: fuck me.”

“That’s not exactly how that word works, Swan.”

“I could not possibly give fewer shits about semantics than I do right now, Killian, unless it somehow relates to you getting your pants off.”

Somehow, even in the midst of their frantic stripping, he manages to laugh. “As you wish.”

She’s always preferred straight talking anyways.)

———

“Thank god I found you both!” Mary Margaret declares, bursting into Emma’s office a little too dramatically for her tastes. Until now, she and Killian had been having a wonderful lunch together, but that’s obviously a thing of the past now.

“That seems a little extreme for a Friday,” Killian comments mildly as he sets his cafeteria burger back down on the styrofoam tray. Personally, Emma thinks the cafeteria food is disgusting, but Killian’s got a real fondness for the cheeseburgers, and especially the french fries. No one’s perfect, she guesses. “What terrible impending tragedy can Emma or I save you from, Mary Margaret?”

“Kathryn’s father is in the hospital, so she and Fred can’t work their assigned booth at the Winter Carnival tomorrow.” Storybrooke County School District’s charity carnival is a tradition every winter - one Mary Margaret takes very seriously. Something that’s clearly about to come back and bite them all in the ass. “Would you two be able to cover tomorrow? You’d be doing me such a huge favor…”

Killian raises a single eyebrow as he turns to meet Emma’s eye - that eyebrow that always seems like a dare. “My schedule’s clear this weekend. Count me in. What do you say, Swan, think you can find room in your schedule to save Mary Margaret from the tragedy of all tragedies?”

Emma rolls her eyes at the way he’s putting it on thick, but truth be told, her only plans had been spending the day with Killian. Might as well. “Sure, what the hell,” she says, reaching for another bite of her microwave pizza. “I don’t have anything else going on.”

In retrospect, Emma realizes that Mary Margaret could have done something terrible with this - assigned them to the kissing booth or something. God, she hopes that there’s not a kissing booth at a middle school carnival, but it feels like just the kind of thing she’d pull. Thankfully, they’re set up at the ring toss game. It’s not strenuous in the least; they don’t even have to take money, just paper tickets. Really, the only questionable thing is that they’re crammed right together in the box formed between the booth walls and the counter and the table of bottles behind them. Maybe that’s something that would have bothered her a few weeks ago, back when they were Emma and Killian but not Emma and Killian. Now, it’s just an excuse to get right up in his space and enjoy all those little touches, right under everyone’s nose.

(Maybe, every time they have to duck under the counter to retrieve poorly-thrown rings, Killian takes the opportunity to steal a quick kiss while no one else can see. And maybe - just maybe - Emma uses those same opportunities to steal her own kisses right back.)

“Soooooo, how’s it going?” Mary Margaret chirps when she pops up out of nowhere mid-afternoon. It’s like she thinks she’ll find them making out in the middle of the carnival or something. Which… fair. The urge is there. But they’re professionals - and Emma wants that money, dammit. She’s not caving here.

“Just fine, Mare,” Emma replies. “Nothing worth reporting.”

“There’s not? You two are looking awfully cozy in there… nothing to report?”

“Well, you’re the one who set up the booths, so…”

“Aye, just making the best of it,” Killian helpfully adds.

Emma almost feels guilty about the way that Mary Margaret visibly deflates.

“You know this was another ridiculous set-up, right, love?” Killian asks once their friend has walked away. “She probably never even needed our help. It was all a ploy.”

“I see it now,” Emma sighs. “I had just weirdly hoped she’d be above all that bullshit.”

Killian quirks that eyebrow yet again. “Mary Margaret? Infamous meddler? Of course not. It’s cute that you thought that though, darling.”

“Oh, shut up.”

(“Mary Margaret told me to take the weekend off, that they’d over-scheduled,” Kathryn tells Emma later when she tries to ask how the other woman’s father is doing. “Was that not the case?”)

(Fucking figures.)

———

Ruby, frankly, is not a surprise. In fact, if there was one person Emma would figure would be pulling this bullshit, it’s Ruby. The girl’s too competitive for her own damn good - not to mention that mile-wide chaotic streak running through her soul.

“Pucker up!” she crows, thrusting what Emma assumes is a sprig of mistletoe over her and Killian’s heads. They’re at Ruby and Mulan’s place for… some party; it’s probably, maybe holiday themed, but Ruby’s never needed an excuse to throw a party. Anything to get them all drunk and laughing and forgetting about the stresses of the week.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Emma demands. “Ruby, don’t be stupid. This isn’t college anymore.”

“Oh, like we ever did this in college,” Ruby scoffs with that devious twinkle in her eye. “Besides, college shenanigans are a state of mind. And I’m not giving that up. Now c’mon, no weaseling out of this.”

“It is the rules,” Mulan points out, appearing to slip her arm around Ruby’s waist and drop an affectionate - if slightly tipsy - kiss on her shoulder.

“Yeah, you hear that? Smart half says it’s the rules. So go ahead and pucker up and kiss him. And then go make out for a while and maybe bone each other so I can win the pool.”

Killian blushes a little bit at the phrasing - something that’s surprisingly cute on him, knowing how often he usually tosses around the innuendoes and exactly how dirty a mouth he has when they’re alone. Before Emma knows what he’s doing, he leans in to press a gentle kiss to her cheek, and then another, smacking one for good measure. “Who are we to deny the great, determined Ruby Lucas?” he proclaims grandly. “One kiss: delivered.”

Ruby’s face gets a bit mutinous; it’s the only word for that particular storm cloud, really. “No it isn’t! That’s cheating!”

“Eh. Technically, it was a kiss.” God bless Mulan for being the only one willing to go against Ruby when she’s got a plan; perks of being the girlfriend, Emma supposes.

“And more importantly, Rubes, that’s all you’re going to get from us.” And that’s Emma’s last word on the subject.

(“Happy Christmas, darling,” Killian whispers into her neck later once they’re back at her place, dangling his own sprig of mistletoe over their heads. “How about it? C’mon, give us a kiss.”

Emma is more than happy to comply.)

———

Emma wouldn’t say it’s common for her to get calls from the school librarian, Belle, but it’s not unusual either. So when Belle calls her up in mid-December, shortly before Christmas break, Emma doesn’t think twice about it.

“The new Scholastic catalogs are here,” Belle informs her. “I haven’t started sending them to classrooms yet, but if you want to take a look now…”

“I’ll be right there.” Yes, the catalogs are full of books for middle school students, but Emma still loves those things. They’re chock-full of nostalgia.

“I haven’t even taken them out of the box yet,” Belle explains when Emma meets her at the check-out desk. “They’re all still in the back room. Here, I’ll let you in.”

That should have been Emma’s clue here. Why would a box of new catalogs, just arrived in the mail, already be shoved into the storage closet? But Emma’s too excited about the prospect of those newsprint magazines to think about it. By the time Emma realizes there’s nothing in this little closet but printer paper and old yearbooks… Belle’s already closed and locked the door, trapping Emma inside.

So it’s yet another set up, most likely. It’s a good thing she’s not claustrophobic, at least.

Sure enough, not five minutes later, Emma can hear Killian’s voice outside the door.

“How many boxes did you say it was, Belle? I’m happy to help haul, but I’m just wondering if we should get a hand cart to assist.”

“Oh no, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Belle’s voice responds. “Just a few trips for each of us. Right in here…”

And suddenly, Killian’s in the cramped little closet too, and the door is shut and latched behind them. Gee, what a surprise.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Emma comments dryly. Somehow, probably on some kind of ridiculous romantic instinct, Killian’s hands have already found their way to her hips. It’s nice, really, ignoring the circumstances.

His face is adorably confused, looking around the room and back to the door and then to Emma’s own face and all over again. “Did she just lock us in here?”

“Yeah, keep up, Jones,” Emma teases. “I assume another stupid set-up effort.”

That makes the confusion disperse alright, a smirk full of promise creeping across his face instead. “If that’s the case… we’ll just have to make the most of it.”

“Oh no you don’t,” she warns. “There’s a camera in here.”

“So? It’s not like she’s watching the monitors.”

“So, Belle recently started dating Will Scarlet in IT. You want to take the chance she locked us in here, and forgot to have her boyfriend monitor us?”

“Fuck,” Killian swears, dropping his head back in dramatic emphasis. “They’re really going overboard, aren’t they?”

“I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.”

Thirty minutes later, when Emma and Killian have done nothing but talk and try to find some little extra space in the crowded closet, Belle finally lets them out, just in time for the end of Killian’s free period.

“I’m sure you have no idea how that happened,” he comments, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“It’s just the weirdest thing,” Belle agrees.

Well, that’s one way of putting it.

(Emma makes it up to him, several times over, at her place that night, with a take-out pizza to boot.)

———

After what feels like an eternity, it’s finally here: New Year’s Eve. As long as they make it to midnight and the new year proper without anyone finding out, this whole ridiculous farce is over, and they can be the couple they’ve technically already been since October. Emma and Killian, Killian and Emma - but more than they had been before.

They’d spent Christmas together - not that that was anything unusual. With everyone else going to visit family, the two of them often spend the day together, eating take-out Chinese and watching holiday movies. Killian’s got a brother back in England that he makes sure to call, and some years Liam will fly over, but Killian usually saves his visits for summer vacation, when he can stay in whatever little English hamlet his brother calls home for weeks at a time. There’s always something nice about spending the holidays together, just the two of them, but it was extra special this year. Who knew Emma was the kind of girl who wanted to trade kisses under the Christmas tree between swapping gifts?

(Killian, apparently - but then again, he’s always claimed to know her better than she knows herself.)

“Just a few more hours,” he murmurs against her neck, twining his arms about her waist from behind as Emma carefully brushes on mascara. “Few more hours, and then it’s all in the open.”

“Thank god for that, too. After all the PDA we’ve gotten from certain people all these years, I’m looking forward to rubbing it in their faces a bit.”

They carpool to Mary Margaret and David’s, just like they do every year. It’s routine, really; Emma always crashes at Killian’s after the annual New Year’s Eve party so that someone is there to help her with the hangover in the morning. Killian makes better hashbrowns than anyone she knows - even Granny - and they always manage to pull her out of the worst of her misery. He’s good about taking care of her, too, with water and Advil and making sure to shut all the shades as tightly as possible. They even share a bed a lot of years; it’s just that tonight, Emma knows there will be a lot fewer clothes involved.

They drink. They eat. They mingle. Sometimes, they’re together, carefully not touching, and sometimes they drift apart. That’s how this party usually works, after all - and Emma is nothing if not committed to seeing this entire thing through, pretending nothing is different this year, that she and Killian definitely aren’t together. Nothing to see here, folks.

God, she’s so fucking lucky he didn’t cut and run once it became obvious just how much of a competitive lunatic Emma is.

Finally, though, it’s the moment - less than a minute left. Killian is already waiting for her by the patio doors, just like he promised. Emma is only too happy to wind her way over there, grinning when she finally finds herself in front of her boyfriend - about to be secret no longer. Behind them, the assembled drunken crowd loudly counts down the last seconds of the year. They keep their hands determinedly to themselves - just as agreed, so no one can try and claim anything happened before the strike of the new year - but Killian still looks at her with that twinkle in his eyes and wiggling eyebrows. It’s anticipation, and excitement, and a good bit of joy - knowing that soon, this will all be out in the open. No more keeping their hands to themselves.

“You ready for this, love?” he says just loud enough for her to hear as the clock hits ten seconds.

“Hell yeah,” she grins back - because she is. She so is. This has been a long time coming - years in the making, really - and you know what? The whole secrecy may have helped her wrap her head around the whole thing, as well as win her the pot, but she’s ready to take it public. Maybe rub it in everyone’s faces just how happy she is and how she did this on her own schedule. Why the hell not?

Cheers erupt all around them, and Emma’s grin stretches to something that almost hurts her face. Killian looks much the same. “Happy New Year, love,” he says, finally pulling her towards him by the hips. “I think it’ll be our best one yet.”

Fireworks are going on outside, lighting up the snow on the ground, but Emma can’t be bothered to pay attention - not when Killian attacks her lips with purpose, grinning happily into the kiss before she insistently deepens it, slipping her tongue into his mouth to play. It’s just another in a series of kisses, they know - but it’s more than that. It’s a display, in the best way, declaring them them.

Emma and Killian. Killian and Emma. A pair, a unit, a couple.

“HA!” shrieks someone across the room as their make-out finally gains attention. Emma thinks it might be Ruby - though, at this point, it might be Mary Margaret. Maybe both. It’s definitely Ruby who materializes just as Emma and Killian finally break apart with a laugh. “It’s about fucking time!”

“Yeah,” Emma agrees - something that seems to short-circuit Ruby’s brain for a moment, if that look on her face is anything to go by. “It really was. And you know what else?”

Ruby shakes her head mutely, that twist of her eyebrows demonstrating that she’s still trying to get her bearings about what the fuck is happening here.

“It’s the new year. That pot is mine.”

“That’s my girl,” Killian whispers in her ear.

Best. New Year’s. Ever.

———

On January 1st of the new year, Emma and Killian - Killian and Emma - they, them, a pair, a unit, a couple take their six hundred dollars in winnings and treat themselves to a goddamn massive lunch at Granny’s. Together. In public. Because they deserve it.

Grilled cheese has never tasted so good to Emma - especially the crumbs off the corners of Killian’s lips.

#csss20 #cssecretsanta2020 #cs ff #captain swan #cs fanfiction #my writing #the set-up scam #secret dating #friends to lovers #oh my god and they were ACCOMPLICES #happy holidays everyone!

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xpeachesncream · 4 years ago

Text

acquainted | fourteen

> series masterlist | series playlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: jungkook x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 2.7k

warnings: cussing/mature language, overthinking, insecurities, questioning feelings/thoughts

notes: please look out for chapter 15 - it’ll be the final chapter for this series, however, you’ll get to choose your decision. ☺️ thanks as always for all the love!

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead@bluesharksandfish@photographic-girl @yonkoghan @moonchild1 @thebeebi @brightcolorsoffendme (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

Close to a month had passed since you had seen Jin during that rainy night. Close to a month had passed since he quit being your creative writing professor. Close to a month had passed in complete silence and you still longed for him.

Close to a month had passed and your feelings hadn't changed.

Jin was in the same position, being that he was keeping his word and waiting for you until you were ready. He had quit because he honestly couldn't keep seeing you in class and he knew it wouldn't be a good idea with where his feelings were at for you. He only thought of the time to come, even if the light seemed to get weaker as the weeks passed on. He still had hope that you two would be okay. It also gave him a little bit more time to get himself together, clean up the empty space in his home and focus on his other job with all the deadlines he had to meet. He felt lonely, but he knew he had to put himself in this position in order to confirm where he stood with you and everything else.

He had seen Grace last week when she came to grab the last of her things, putting her movers to rest. It wasn't the best reunion, but she had flatly told him she was leaving for New York to continue improving her restaurant there before opening her Nevada location. He had given her his apologies and told her he wished her the best of luck, but she shook her head and told him to save it. She also told him that she hoped he was happy with how everything turned out and that you two definitely deserved each other for how selfish you both were. Jin quietly took it as he watched her stomp off to her car with a box of things in her hands.

Okay then. What else can he say?

He stands in his backyard, sipping on some coffee before he hears his front door open and shut. The individual comes beside him but leaves enough space in between and doesn't make eye contact.

"I'm only doing this because mom told me so." Jungkook says, his hands dug deep into his sweat pockets as he looked out at the view.

"Thanks anyway."

"So, why did you call me here?"

"Want anything to eat or drink?" Jungkook looks at him and shakes his head.

"I don't plan on staying long." Jin sits on one of the chairs, with Jungkook following suit.

"I just want to say I'm sorry that I wasn't a better brother to you, and that I didn't take your feelings into consideration." Jungkook presses his lips firmly together before slowly nodding.

"I appreciate that."

"I—" Jin sighs. "I know I was selfish, and it was wrong for me to not be upfront with you, or Grace like I should have been in the first place." Jin shakes his head. "I was just caught up—Still caught up." He catches himself. "I felt so much happier that I pushed everything else aside. I hadn't felt that way in awhile." Jungkook honestly agrees, he knows the feeling. But also, he noticed the change in Jin and wasn't sure what it was. He was happier around his friends. Full of life. Like he looked forward to every day. And he liked seeing that in him. He hadn't felt that kind of happiness and confidence radiate from his brother in awhile, and if someone was pulling the best out of him, then he couldn't even be mad at it. Yeah, he was hurt, but Jin had done so much for him as they were growing up that he only wanted him to be happy in the end. He wanted Jin to take care of himself first and foremost, since he had always been taking care of everyone else around him - Grace included. So no, he couldn't hate him, nor could he stay mad.

"I get where you're coming from, I really do. And I forgive you, but I can't say that I'm over it. It hurt pretty badly coming from you, especially."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you like that. You're my little brother, you know you come before everyone else." A small smile crept up on the corner of Jungkook's lips.

"You're a lot happier." Jin looks at him. "I can see how happy she makes you." Jin doesn't respond and simply sips his coffee.

"She does. Except, I'm not sure where I stand with her anymore."

"Why?"

"She's overwhelmed with everything going on." Jin shakes his head. "I don't know if her feelings for me are strong enough to overcome that."

"I think they are. I mean, obviously you were worth it to her, right?"

"Sure."

"Okay, it's not gonna be the easiest for me to talk about, but, coming from me as your brother, I don't think you should give up on it, especially if you both mean something to each other throughout all of this. I think the thing that matters most here is what you really want. I don't blame you for all of it, even though I came off pretty harsh. You've been taking care of me and everyone else around you that I think you should finally take care of yourself." Jungkook stares out at the view.

"I don't know, it's difficult."

"What's difficult about it?"

"I just don't want people to look down on her and I think that's what she's afraid of."

"Fuck 'em." Jungkook shrugs. "It'll take a bit for everyone to get passed it, but fuck it. You're the only one who truly knows her and again, I think that's all that matters. I mean from what I know, besides all of this, she's a really good person." Jungkook sighs. "Smart, beautiful, funny, caring."

"That she is."

"Then?"

"I don't know how else to tell her that, or prove to her. We haven't talked these past weeks."

"Maybe she just needed this time, but I wouldn't let her get away like that."

"I guess. I just don't wanna force her, or be on her case." Jin's head hangs low. He really missed you, but he wasn't going to press you and be on your case. He wasn't that type of guy, even though this shit drove him crazy.

"Look." Jungkook places his hand on Jin's shoulder. "You're always gonna be my brother and I'll always love you regardless of the dumb shit you pull. Do this for yourself. The least you could do is try, and if it doesn't work out, then you can say you tried."

"Thanks." Jin smiles toothlessly.

"One day, I'll get back at you though. I won't forget it." Jungkook playfully punches his arm, causing Jin to slightly yelp.

"Please, nothing physical. You're so much stronger than me." Jungkook smiles at him before pulling him into a hug.

"Everything will be alright, Jin."

"I hope so."

You poked at your slice of banana bread at the dining table before lazily swirling the spoon in your coffee cup. You had spent the weekend at your parents' home, just to get some good, quality family time in. It helped you get your mind off of a lot of things and get your priorities straight. It also reminded you of who the most important people in your life were. But even with all of this, your mind still lingered to Jin every once in awhile - wondering if he was okay, how he was doing, what he was up to.

If he still loved you. If he still wanted you.

Majority of you felt like you'd never figure it out with the radio silence over the last couple of weeks. Maybe this was just it. And you were trying to come to terms with it. Be mentally prepared to accept the fact that this was just it. Even though you were just able to fully come to terms with the fact that you had loved him that night Jimin had stayed with you, listening to you cry over and over again.

"You doing okay, sweetie?" Your mom sat next to you at the table, giving you a small, reassuring smile. Your parents were amazing, and you had a strong relationship with the both of them. However, your mother had always been your confidante, the parent you could go to for anything and everything without having felt judged or anything like that. She never scolded you, never angrily got upset at you for the dumb mistakes you've made. Instead, she's always lent a warm, gentle hand and reassured you that things would always be okay. That you'd grow from the experience and that it was only up from there.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Things still clouding your mind?" You stayed silent before you looked up at her. You hadn't said much about Jin this weekend because the whole point was to stay away from it all before having to go back to your lonely apartment and face your thoughts again. But, this afternoon, before having to leave, you just needed to hear the reassurance from your mom. You needed her this weekend.

"Mom, when did you know you loved Dad?" She chuckled a bit.

"I knew I loved him when I realized he never ran off during arguments or hard times. He gave me space, but he was always there, ready to fix things. Never gave up. It made me long for him all the time. He was the only one I'd look for, even after I had just called him stupid or ridiculous." You let out a small laugh.

"That's cute." She nods, but she doesn't say anything else for a bit. Gives you a little time to ponder on her response and sit there. But at the same time, she's reading you and she's reading your body language. A mother just knows.

"Honey, whoever he is--" She pauses before she switches up her statement. "--If you haven't been able to get your mind off of him, maybe that's telling you something."

"What? How do you know?"

"I just do. I'm your mother." You sat there for awhile, poking your banana bread more before you drop your fork and look at her with your teary eyes.

"Mom, I think--" You sniff and quickly wipe your nose. "I messed up big time." She shook her head.

"If there's a will, there's a way." She softly says before you start to tell her about every single thing that had been occupying your mind. How you had a new professor that you had a harmless crush on. How that eventually spiraled out of control and things got further than you both had expected. Grace. His engagement. Seeing him during late nights, the secret calls. The LA trip. Jungkook. How he told you he loved you. Everything.

You just needed to lay this out on the table.

And yet, your mom never judged you. She sat, listened and held your hand the entire time. Caressing your hand and brushing the hair out of your face as you cried and told her you felt stupid for doing such a thing, but you loved Seokjin. You had fallen in loved with him and there was no going back for you. Not after Chance. You had opened yourself up to him and let him in even though you've tried your hardest to take it easy. To let yourself fully heal from losing Chance.

You couldn't help it. Even though you were afraid.

"Ohh, babygirl." She says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I know it hasn't been easy, and it's not the best situation to be in, but if you're still looking for him after all of this--" She pauses. "If he's still waiting for you to be ready, maybe it's just meant to happen that way. You shouldn't stop yourself just because you're afraid. You might regret that more."

"I know." You sniffed. "But it just feels so messed up, you know? Even though that's how I feel about him, I feel like I'll never over overcome the anxiety or the what if's."

"The circumstances weren't the greatest, I'll tell you that. But you can't help who you fall in love with, right? Whether it turns out good or bad, your paths cross for a reason. Whether it's a blessing or another lesson to learn from. And from what I hear, it sounds like he was at least able to make you happy and pull you out of this dark hole you had been living in since Chance passed." She says looking at you, worry filling her eyes. She gently caresses your hand with her thumb before letting out a small sigh. "I know Chance's passing was the hardest thing you have ever had to endure, and I know it has been incredibly hard to pull yourself out of the dark since then. It's been hard to see you go through this."

"Jin did make me happy. I felt wanted."

"But, is that enough for you?" You shrug. "Honey, all I want is for you to stop shielding yourself from the world and living in the shadows. I know it's been difficult, and I know Chance was everything to you. But, he would have wanted you to be happy, okay?" She nods reassuringly. "He would have wanted that for you and so much more. No matter what that means - if you stay with Jin, or if you go and focus on yourself. Let yourself live and be happy, baby. It's okay." You let the remaining tears fall as you nod in agreement with her. Suddenly, a huge weight has been lifted off of your shoulders, hearing it come from your own mother.

Let yourself live and be happy, baby. It's okay.

It's almost like you can hear Chance's voice coming through and that's what makes you feel at peace.

And so, you pack up your things to head back over to your apartment, feeling 10x more refreshed than when you got here. You hopped into your car, debating if you'd send Jin a text before getting home.

[ryujin] 3:37pm: hey, are you almost going home?

[y/n] 3:38pm: just about to leave to head back. what's up?

[ryujin] 3:39pm: nothing, baby! just drive safely for me. i'll see you when you get back? text me if you wanna go somewhere.

[y/n] 3:40pm: okay! but aren't you with namjoon?

[ryujin] 3:41pm: yessss and? he can wait. lol

[y/n] 3:42pm: jeez lol don't do that to him! i'll text you later though if anything. have fun! be safe!

Over the weeks, Ryujin was able to tell you about the time she spent time with Namjoon and how she unexpectedly spent the night at his place before picking you up at the airport. You watched as she told you the details, the rosy tint filling her cheeks as she blushed and smiled from ear to ear. It made you happy that she was happy, and that she was exploring things with him. You didn't know much about him personally, but from what you've heard, he sounded like a great guy. You wanted a good guy for your bestfriend, someone who could appreciate her for who she is - a loud, tiny-but-packed-with-attitude, smart, beautiful woman.

You figured you'd text Jin when you get settled at home. It'll at least buy you some time to formulate the text, and what you'd say when you see him in person. It's a nice day out and it's contributing a lot to the calmness you're starting to feel. Things feel like they're falling into place, even though you hadn't had a chance to talk to Jin yet. Things just felt better than they have been in awhile.

You get to your apartment building and park in your assigned space before grabbing your things out of the trunk. Your duffle had gotten a lot heavier, being that your mom shoved some of the things she had bought you into the bag, plus an additional bag full of groceries. You slowly walked into the building and towards your floor, only to be greeted by an individual standing in the hallway, looking towards the opposite end of the hallway.

In front of your door.

"Jin?" You ask as he slowly turns around, his expression warm and inviting. He carried a huge bouquet of flowers in front of him, so huge it almost covered that small smile he gave off.

"Y/N."

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babytsum · 4 years ago

Text

wanna be - m. atsumu

friends to lovers atsumu fluff because i said so.

warnings: none, just unedited so might be a lil sloppy lol, mention of konoha x reader (they go on like one date)

word count: 3.5k

wanna be by the internet (2018)

he remembers you from onigiri miya.

your baggy jeans, loose t shirt, eyebags. he remembers it all down to the way you stuffed your face with onigiris to the neon lights the shined outside. you were pretty, but he was indifferent. after all, he was miya atsumu, a player both on and off the court.

to you, he was miya atsumu, osamu's brother. and miya osamu was simply a friend who owned a restaurant and understood the crushing pressure of being a student with a part time job that struggled to pay rent. besides, one day you'd pay him back because you were one smart cookie, though he didn't know in what way. however, he did notice how atsumu made an effort to avoid eye contact while you introduced yourself. he didn't miss the color that made its way to his cheeks when you held your hand out for him to shake.

and he sees you again waiting outside his team's gym after practice.

that day, your hair was tied back. you wore a long coat that went down to your calves and loose black clothing under it. did you always wear loose clothes? you smiled and waved in his direction and his heart skipped a beat. he waved back excitedly until he turned around and saw hinata jumping up and down at the sight of your happy self. turns out, you were karasuno's manager in high school. atsumu, usually confident and cheerful, now sunk into his sweater while his teammate introduced you to the rest of the group.

"i know atsumu. i met him at onigiri miya a few weeks ago."

he nodded as you spoke. he barely knew you, but your presence had a significant effect on him, one that was beyond what he can describe.

so maybe he goes over to his brother's restaurant more, once or twice a week.

"so, how do you know hinata?" stupid question. hinata literally told everyone like a week ago.

"i went to karasuno and became the team manager for their volleyball team," you answered anyways, how sweet of you, "i actually got to see you and osamu play at nationals. that's where i first met him."

all of the sudden, atsumu wishes that he paid more attention to the pretty managers of the opposing teams. although, he does thank whatever higher power is out there that he got to meet you at some point and curses osamu for not telling him about you at all.

"i didn't know you knew (y/n) in high school."

"what do you mean?"

"i just didn't know that she was a team manager and all that, you know? i feel kind of bad for not knowing she existed."

"oh she definitely existed. who do you think i made extra bento boxes for when we went to tokyo?"

"those weren't mine?"

hinata invites you to watch him practice and he doesn't know if its a curse or a blessing.

on the one hand, you can see all of his talented sets and gameplay. on the other, he usually reached peak idiot during practices, at least that's what sakusa would tell him.

that's not going to stop you from sitting down and letting out a cheer for hinata's, and even bokuto's, spikes. you knew that shoyo and kotaro loved the support they got. it gave them motivation, made them perform better. of course, the team wouldn't mind that.

atsumu just wishes he got a few cheers or smiles from you.

the next time you see him, he's sucking face with some hot model with a drink in hand at a party that shoyo brought you to. you weren't surprised. you were close enough to osamu to hear him rant about his brothers antics, so you brush it off like usual when seeing two people getting a little busy. after all, you were here to take a break from studying

by the middle of the party, you're tipsy and cheering on bokuto who was shaking ass to hot girl summer. hinata is passed out on the couch in a fetal position while kageyama sits down and stuffs his face with rice. osamu joins him and witnesses the mess that is you and bokuto. atsumu looks disheveled and everyone already knows why, all of you just hope that the room he went to earlier was not the master bedroom.

"tsumuuuuu," you slurred as you spoke, a happy smile plastered on your face, "you're a manwhoreeeeee."

"what?"

"i'm joking, but also not," you kissed the tip of his nose, "you're a very nice boy."

he didn't know whether to be offended or flustered, especially with the combination of your little antics and the alcohol in his system, which only resulted in a strong of incoherent words that entertained osamu.

"man, i really wish you met her in high school. she was way worse." kageyama added, memories of you blatantly flirting with your close friends for fun.

"she really was. i believe the first thing she ever said to suna was 'holy fuck, how do you look so fucking hot while shoving those jelly sticks in your mouth?'" osamu laughed, the image of his teammate's red face playing in his mind, "the (y/n) you know is more tame, a stressed college student with a low alcohol tolerance."

you gave bokuto's ass another smack as you giggled at the way his ass jiggled. having athletic friends is fun, especially when the stress from your graduate studies needs to be relieved and their pro player money literally prevents you from paying for your own food. you were lucky.

the day after, you drive to the gym you knew they would be practicing at. of course, sakusa had the common sense to not drink the night before practice. his other three teammates did not.

atsumu is the first one to spot you, a big bag in hand, your hair tied back, another pair of loose jeans and a plain t shirt. it's more different from the flattering plants and small top you wore last night, but he wonders how you can look like this after a night of drunken fun. it was almost like you were glowing.

hinata greeted you first, taking your bag and thanking you for the food.

"are your heads okay?"

"i think i died last night."

"you die every time there's alcohol at a party, shoyo."

"hey!"

sakusa snickered while the rest tried their best to hide their laughs. you weren't wrong, though. shoyo does end up passing out on someone's couch after some energetic dancing.

"what about you, tsumu?"

"i don't remember anything that happened except for bo's ass."

"not even the hot blonde girl?"

"the what?" again, everyone failed to contain their laughs.

"you manwhore!" you chuckled, handing him his bento box.

"you should have seen how red he got when you kissed his nose!" bokuto chimed in.

"i did that?" your smile faded, "sorry, if i made you uncomfortable, tsumu."

"it's okay, i don't remember it." he lied.

the memory replayed in his mind again and a foreign feeling came over him. it was warm.

the next time he sees you, you're at osamu's house to taste test his new food. it's osamu's classic duo, his dear brother that loves to freeload off of him and his stressed grad student friend who also likes free food.

when atsumu walks in, you motion for him to sit next to you while stuffing your face. you're wearing baggy clothes again and he's pretty sure that you slept with your makeup still on from the night before.

"osamu, if you keep cooking like this, i think i might marry you."

"gross."

"what's gross about marrying the hotter twin?" you turned to atsumu, a smirk on your face.

"we look exactly alike."

"yeah, but he cooks."

atsumu couldn't argue with that. you were funny. you were always funny and warm even when talking down to him like this. and it made his heart beat faster, his face a little redder, his smile a little brighter.

fuck.

"i can cook."

"yeah, a pack of cup noodles." osamu responded while you chuckled in agreement.

"they're some fire ass cup noodles."

"yeah okay, playboy."

"playboy?"

"do you prefer manwhore?"

"no."

you throw your head back, laughing again at atsumu's expression. for someone who fucks around, he was easy to fluster. and you enjoyed it every time. the way he would look down in an attempt to hide his crimson cheeks, the slight smile that would rest in his face. he was pretty.

it all confirmed osamu's suspicions.

"you guys want to make every sunday a taste test day?"

"yes!" you responded excitedly. more free food? you're there.

"sure."

after osamu packed up some food for the two of you, both of you walked out. the early afternoon sun was scorching and your baggy jeans and oversized hoodie were not helping.

"you wanna get some coffee? i'll pay."

"what are you doing? trying to woo me or something, manwhore?"

"you look like shit and i think it's because you're tired."

"fair. but you have to drive me home first. i need to change and i do not want to walk to the bus stop."

"you didn't drive here?"

"i wanted to take a nap on public transport, sue me."

after a ten minute drive filled with food critiques, you finally made it to your house, quickly changing into some shorts and a t shirt that was actually your size. your raccoon eyes were fixed and you were back in atsumu's car in no time.

"i had no idea you existed up until a few weeks ago."

"nice way to start a conversation, tsumu."

"sorry-"

"you know, when i was karasuno's manager, i thought you were terrifying."

"how?"

"it was after one of your serves, you had this scary look on your face, but i forgot what you were looking at. you scored an ace, though."

"the fangirls."

"huh?"

"it was those squealin pigs that almost messed it up. i remember."

"you call your fangirls pigs?" you scoffed, "you're a whole manwhore." "yeah whatever, (y/n)."

you both went on to reminisce about high school memories, him mostly talking volleyball while you talked about shoyo and tobio being absolute dumbasses. he was interesting, really. his voice was smooth and his tone was always lively, always showing some emotion.

the cafe was mostly empty, a few people scattered around. the bitter taste of coffee met your lips as you hummed with delight.

"what are you looking at?"

"how are you drinking that shit? didn't you order extra espresso shots?"

"yeah, and? i see a ridiculous amount of condensed milk in yours, but i'm not saying anything."

"whatever." he chuckled.

everything was natural, both easing into friendly teasing comfortably. there was always some sort of glint in his eyes, a sly smile whenever he wasn't talking, reddened cheeks whenever you caught him staring.

being friends with miya atsumu was easy.

every sunday was easy. talking to him was easy. thinking about him was easy. a little too easy. and summer becomes fall. and fall becomes winter. and every sunday, there's a new source of energy you find despite your sleep deprived state.

"bo's sending me on a blind date." you tell the twins excitedly.

it's been awhile since you've gone on a proper date. you really haven't had the time for anything except for fooling around at a party once in a while. even if it went nowhere, at least you had something to distract you from the blonde manwhore who's constantly on your mind.

"oh, really?" osamu grinned, "i would have gone a date with you."

"liar. we both remember what happened while you were in school."

"yuck."

atsumu looked between the two of you, the gears turning in his head until it finally clicked.

"you guys went on a date?"

"sadly, yes," you chuckled, "we became closer friends, but that was not the move."

"agreed."

atsumu had already accepted that he had feelings for you. which he suppressed out of embarrassment. he had already accepted that you would have rejected him anyways. you called him a manwhore after all.

"when is it?" he finally asked, jaw clenching. his harsh tone wasn't intentional, but it was there nonetheless.

"next saturday. i'll tell you two about it when we taste test, again."

"you wanna get some milk tea after?"

"no. i have to buy a dress."

"oh."

atsumu watched you walk out the door, a cheerful smile on your face. he felt sick.

and when next sunday comes, you're an hour late.

you looked like you were up all night studying for exams. he recognizes the smudged mascara, the eyebags, the messy hair. except instead of your usual baggy clothes, it's a dress that loosely hugs your figure. he doesn't miss the way your nipples peaked through or the marks on your neck. nasty.

"samu, i'm gonna need more food than usual."

"you got it boss."

the sounds of the kitchen fill the room as you lay your head down. you turn to atsumu, eyes droopy and exhausted.

"you look like you had fun. who did bo hook you up with?"

"his name's konoha. he played for fukurodani back in high school. bo's such a sneaky lil shit."

"how?"

"i may have had a small crush on him in high school when i saw him at a training camp. i told bo and he probably remembered it and thought it was funny."

"nice," he replied, running his fingers through your hair, "are you guys going on another date?"

you closed your eyes, relishing in the feeling of his touch, "i don't think so. it was fun, but i don't think i like him that much anymore."

"ah."

he internally celebrated while osamu rolled his eyes.

and winter turns to spring in atsumu's apartment.

soft white walls, light brown cabinets, a fridge filled with his brother's food. a few photo frames hung around, the most notable once being a photo of osamu stuffing his face when they were kids. the best part was that osamu hated that photo, yet it was also the centerpiece of his table.

you set down the vase of flowers that you were asked to bring. something about making the party feel more "springy" or whatever atsumu said. you were expecting a nice apartment, atsumu was a pro volleyball player of course. but you weren't expecting it to be this nice.

it almost makes you sad. the fact you were constantly exhausted, studying, and stressed while atsumu was the same age having fun and being a playboy. god, this kind of sucks. why the hell was this man friends with you anyways?

"your dress looks so cute!" always count on shoyo to immediately make you feel better.

"you look good even in your big jeans, but you look even cooler?" bo added on, making your cheeks heat up.

while you and sakusa exchanged a small wave, atsumu came out of his room. an unbuttoned short sleeve, white shirt underneath, jeans. wow. god. fuck. and seeing you in the pink dress that flowed around your body, the sleeves being a little puffed, the same train of thoughts ran through his head.

"you needed help setting up?"

"uhm, yeah. can you guys get the plates out and shit?"

"you want us to shit on the plates?"

"shoyo-" you cackled at the confused tangerine headed boy.

it's a good thing you figured it all out before the guests arrived.

seeing kuroo and kenma after so long was refreshing. and the fact akaashi also had a caffeine addiction was comforting. and yachi? she was so grown now. your conversation with the two was interrupted by a tap on your shoulder.

"hey, stranger."

"konoha?"

you gave him a short hug. both of you caught up on the last few months, the situation being less awkward than you expected. it's not like he was trying to get in your pants again, what was the harm in talking? there's nothing wrong with two tired college students having a conversation, right?

suna's voice became distant to atsumu as he observed the blonde across the room. should he go there and save you? his question was quickly answered when you greeted the man with a hug.

"dude? can you hear me?" suna waved his hand in front of his face.

"don't mind he's just being a simp." osamu responded, a smirk on his face.

"am not!"

"for who?"

"(y/n) (y/l/n)."

"that cute manager from karasuno?"

"yep."

"you go, dude!" suna patted him on the back.

"i don't like her like that, we're just friends."

"why is your face red?"

"it's not red!"

"ooo! is atsumu afraid of (y/n)'s cooties?"

"suna, we're twenty three."

"and you act like you're sixteen with this lil crush, atsumu."

atsumu sighed in response. it was too late. you were going to go home with konoha, or maybe you two would go to his many spare rooms. and you would go on another date. fall in love with him. marry him. have his kids.

"she calls me a manwhore a lot."

"she's not wrong."

"aren't you two supposed to be supportive?"

"no." they both said in unison.

"look just offer to give her a house tour or something," suna advised nonchalantly, "works every time."

"good idea."

feeling a presence behind you, you turned around only to be met with a scary looking blonde towering over you. konoha kissed your cheek and bid you a farewell once he realized another figure grabbing your attention.

"house tour?"

"thought you'd never ask, manwhore."

after a tour of a guest room, a bathroom, and a washing machine, the two of you finally made it to his master bedroom. of course, the pillows on his bed were thrown around and there were a few shirts thrown on the floor.

"i may have forgotten to, uh, put those away."

"how are you gonna give me a house tour and forget to clean your house."

"i remembered to fold my blanket!"

"you don't fold your blanket when you wake up? do you even make your bed in the morning?"

"shut up."

you chuckled as he looked away, a poor attempt to hide his face. judging by the mess of clothing, the setter probably had no idea what to wear for his party. the one that was being hosted by him, in his own apartment, right now.

"i see you had a little fashion show this morning."

"i didn't know what to wear!"

"you're the host!"

"what if i looked bad?"

"who cares?"

he looked at you, a confused expression on his face. his eyebrows were furrowed, mouth slightly parted open. your eyes landed on his lips before you immediately turned away. you couldn't get distracted, but he looked so pretty. instead, you sat down on the bed, finding a pillow to rest your head against.

"if it makes you feel better, you look really nice today, tsumu."

"i did it! you finally didn't call me a manwhore!"

"you're still a manwhore."

he pouted while you threw your head back in laughter once again. atsumu took this as an opportunity to sit next to you on his bed, readjusting your head onto his lap. you looked up at his face, eyes boring deep into yours.

"what are you thinking about?"

"you."

"do i have something on my face?"

"no."

his fingers made its way onto your scalp, slowly massaging your head. a moan left your lips at the satisfying feeling. the past few weeks have only stressed you out, but atsumu's presence cushioned you when necessary.

"how's konoha?"

"he's okay, i'd honestly become friends with him if he wanted to."

"didn't he give you a kiss?"

"it was just a cheek kiss."

"you wouldn't mind if i gave you one, right?"

"who cares? i think everyone should give their homies a kiss."

and with that, his lips met yours. his were soft and warm, and though you were caught by surprised, you kissed back. you two melded together until you sat back up.

"i meant a cheek kiss, but whatever."

"you kissed back!"

"no, i didn't."

"did to."

"i don't want your cooties."

"are you five?"

you rolled your eyes, laying back down on the bed. he ended up giving you a kiss on the cheek, then slowly traveled to your ear, then your neck, then dangerously close to your chest. he laid down next to you, arms around your waist, head resting on the crook of your neck. you acted as if you were indifferent, but of course your cheeks still heated up and your heart was beating faster than usual.

"do you wanna be my girl?"

"no."

"rude."

he chuckled into your neck while you grinned, turning your head to look at the pretty setter. it only resulted in more kisses on your face which you happily received.

"is osamu still single?"

"don't even joke about that."

#atsumu miya #miya atsumu #inarazaki #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu fluff #miya atsumu fluff #atsumu miya fluff #hq fluff #hq fic #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fics #miya atsumu scenario #miya atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu imagine #atsumu miya imagine #🍓.writes

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brightbeautifulthings · 4 years ago

Text

Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace

"'What if sometimes there is no choice about what to love? What if the temple comes to Mohammed? What if you just love? without deciding? You just do: you see her and in that instant are lost to sober account-keeping and cannot choose but to love?'"

Year Read: 2014, 2020

Rating: 5/5

Context: It's hard to know where to begin writing a review for this book. I read it for the first time in graduate school in about five weeks (alongside everything else I had to do in grad school, so I don't recommend that), and it basically blew my mind. At the same time, it's hard to imagine tackling it any other way for the first time. Despite its difficulty, there are things obsessive and immersive and, appropriately, even addictive about it. Full immersion might be the only way to read it for the first time, and I obsessed about it for months afterward. Since I'm not on any deadlines, I took it more slowly this time (21 weeks) so I could enjoy the writing and the nuances without the pressure to finish. For my less coherent weekly updates in real time, see my blog posts. Trigger warnings: Everything, everything. Death (on-page), child death, animal death, suicide, suicidal ideation, rape, pedophilia, possible incest, child abuse/abusive households, graphic violence/gore, eye horror, severe injury, drug use, addiction, alcoholism, mental illness, depression, OCD, grief, racism, ableism, transphobia, sexism, inexplicable hostility toward Canadians.

About: If it's difficult to know how to write a review, it's equally hard to describe what Infinite Jest is about. It's about so many things, tennis, addiction, communication (failures), and entertainment among them, but I'll do my best. Beneath all the numerous characters, timelines, and subplots, the main plot is about a film so entertaining that it kills anyone who watches it, robs them of all desire to do anything but watch it until they die, and what a faction of Canadian assassins will do to possess it. The auteur is James Incandenza, a suicide whose son, Hal, is a prodigy at Enfield Tennis Academy. Next door to E.T.A. is Ennet House, a drug rehabilitation center where Don Gately, former thief and Demerol addict, is taking it day by day to stay sober. Though they don't know it, Hal and Gately are connected, and the deadly Entertainment and those who seek it draw their paths closer and closer together.

Thoughts: It's rare to find a book that is actually as smart as it claims to be, but IJ is--certainly much smarter than I am, despite all my attempts to make sense of it. It starts off strong and doesn't let up for several hundred pages, which is a huge achievement all by itself. Wallace excels at writing extremely polished sections that could almost function alone as short stories, and the first chapter is one of my favorites in all fiction. It's reassuring, I think, to start the book off on a strong note, in case we worried we were in for a thousand pages of tedious slog. It can be both, but it's often heartfelt, insightful, and funny as well, and the payoff is well worth the effort. I don’t know how Wallace manages to pack every page with so much meaning. Anybody can put tedious lists in their books or make reading purposely difficult (and I have attitude about writers who do this for no reason), but there’s nothing haphazard about this book, despite its size and varied focus. Everything seems utterly intentional. The conversations are really top-tier; Wallace has a great ear for how people talk, and it's a fascinating look at how communication works and doesn't work.

Thematically, I think the book succeeds on more than any other level, including plot or structure. If we could say this book is "about" anything, we would almost certainly start with the themes and not the plot, which is often secondary to whatever point Wallace is trying to make at the moment. It takes an in-depth looks at things like addiction, depression, loneliness, failed communication, sincerity v. irony, critiques of postmodernism and metafiction (while being very meta itself, at times), and the very specific selfishness of an American culture that insists on freedom even to the point of self-destruction. At times, it feels a little heavy-handed or like it was yanked right out of an intro to philosophy course, but I suppose something in a thousand pages has to be obvious if we're ever going to pick up on it. A lot of these themes resurface in his other work, from "This is Water" and "E Unibus Pluram" to Orin Incandenza's Brief Interview style Q and A (and he would be a perfectly fitting character in that book).

The characters are some of my favorites in literary fiction as well, particularly the Incandenza family and Don Gately, and to a lesser extent Joelle Van Dyne (although Wallace typically doesn’t write female characters very well, and she comes with some issues). Hal and Gately couldn't be more different; Hal excels at everything he's ever done, and Gately has a record that includes accidental homicide on it. Hal is the hero of non-action, since little that happens in the book is engineered by him, while Gately is closer to the more typical hero of action, who defends the undeserving at great cost to himself. Yet their struggles with addiction are similar, and they both manage to be incredibly sympathetic characters. In my opinion, the book is always at its best when we’re with Hal or Gately, but I’m strongly driven by good characters. Despite being dead, James Incandenza's presence is also felt all over the book, from the Entertainment he created to his haunting ETA and sticking beds to the ceiling (probably the weirdest ghost I've ever seen in fiction). He's a tragic character in a book full of tragic characters. The others are too numerous to name, from the other tennis players at ETA and recovering addicts at Enfield, to the various bystanders populating Boston. We get brief glimpses into almost all of them, and while they may not all feel relevant at the time, most are memorable or heart-wrenching or slapstick funny, or all three. It's a book that contains multitudes.

That's not to say it's always on point though, and it isn't. There are a number of very serious problems with representation in this novel, and they're as bad as its detractors claim. A lot of the 90s humor aged very poorly, but that's not an excuse for some of the unabashedly racist depictions of African Americans, the uncharitable descriptions of Steeply's and Poor Tony's cross-dressing, or--however much I love him as a character--the fact that Mario Incandenza’s descriptions are ableist in just about every possible way. Wallace thinks he's capturing "voice" when he's really encouraging harmful stereotypes. The humor of the novel often doesn’t depend at all on these stereotypes and would in fact, be a lot more funny if I wasn’t spending so much energy cringing at it. So many of the little racist and ableist asides could have easily been edited out of the entire novel to make it less offensive. There are also sections where he seems at pains to be as gross as possible for its own sake. There are plenty of things grim or uncomfortable or flat out distasteful about this book, but sometimes the graphic violence kind of jumps out and stabs you in the eye, say, with a railroad spike.

If there are times when I was totally absorbed in the little tragedies of the Incandenza family or Gately's struggles, there are plenty more where it's like pushing something heavy up a hill. No lie, some of it is slogging through tedious minutiae and various experimental writing styles (some more successful and less offensive than others). Wallace has a gift for purposeful tedium; it’s at its peak in The Pale King, but he gives it a nice warm-up round here. The novel is difficult and meant to be, since Wallace maintained that some of the best pleasures are the ones we have to work for, and he's not totally off base. There's something very satisfying about living, for a time, in a book that spans a thousand pages, that demands focus and perseverance, and manages to give back (almost) as much as it takes. The book is always structurally interesting, but it starts to get more complicated toward the end as various characters and plots begin to almost slide into one another. I forgot how frustrating it was to near the end and realize--again--that it wasn't going to wrap up with any kind of satisfaction; the various plots slide, but they don’t meet. I thought if I paid closer attention on a second read that I would pick up more of the plot things I’d missed on my first, but I think the problem is that those answers simply aren’t to be found in the actual text. Of course, they can point us toward various conclusions, and the novel certainly encourages us to speculate and make connections, but I don’t think the actual answers are there.

That brings me to some of my final thoughts, for now. There's no doubt that this is a hugely successful book, and I believe it accomplished exactly what Wallace meant it to do. He jokingly referred to it as a failed entertainment, much the way Jim considered his lethal Entertainment a failure, but I have the sense that Wallace, unlike Jim, failed on purpose. The book purposely pays more attention to structure and theme than it does to plot or character, yet the plot and characters are hugely compelling for what we see of them. Imagine the book it could have been if he had paid equal attention to all of them. Wallace attempted to create a book that people wouldn't want to stop reading. Reaching the end certainly encourages us to begin again, as the first chapter is actually the last in chronology, but that trick only works the first time. By my second read, I realized that starting over wouldn't help me fill in any of those blanks or answer any of my questions, and I was content to let it go. On the one hand, IJ depends upon its structure to tell the story it's telling. On the other, think of the book it could have been if it spent more time telling a story and developing its characters and less time belaboring a point. It's one of the best books I've ever read, and the tragedy is that I think it could have been even better.

#book review #infinite jest #david foster wallace #literary fiction #adult fiction #5/5 #rating: 5/5 #2020 #bookoween

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mosylufanfic · 4 years ago

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Closing Time

Happy Killervibe week, y’all! This first story is for the Coffee Shop theme.

Closing Time

Cisco shut the door behind the last wifi hound, locked it, and raised both fists in the air. "And we're done!"

Done for the night, done for the pay period, done forever. In two days, he'd be starting his grad program at the university and a TA-ship with it, and he'd never have to make another latte unless it was for himself.

"Not quite," his manager said. "We've still got to finish the closing."

"But done with customers," he said, coming around the counter. He started to clean the espresso machine, singing, "No more frothers, no more cards, no more Karens' dirty looks -" He paused. "Huh, you got anything that rhymes?"

Caitlin, already pulling the drawer, rolled her eyes at him and turned to go into the office where she would count the money and deposit it in the safe. Also her last time.

Cisco hit the button for the cleaning cycle, shut off the canned Jitters-approved music on the overhead speakers, and pulled out his phone. "Requests?" he called into the office.

"You pick!" she called back, as she always did.

He decided it was an old-school cheesy hair band kind of night and put on Aerosmith as he started emptying the dishwasher, stacking all the cups and plates up for the next morning.

He liked closing with Caitlin, because she always had them do all the little tasks and chores way before closing. He knew some of the other baristas bitched and moaned, saying there was plenty of time to take out the trash or do the pastry inventory after they were closed and she was just cracking the whip because she could. But Caitlin always got them out on time and also never left anything undone for the openers if she could help it.

Also, it didn't hurt that he was kind of head-over-heels in love with her.

" - jonesin' on love, yeah, I got the disease," he sang as he wiped down the table where the last wifi user had been sitting, dropping crumbs into his keyboard until the bitter end. "Falling in love is so hard on the kneeeeeees -"

She was pretty and smart - she was going to med school! How hot was that? - and kind of funny, once you got her talking. In his year behind the counter, every single one of his favorite shifts had been with her. He'd even agreed to work closing on Saturday nights because that was her closing night, and nobody else ever wanted that shift so it was always just them hanging out as he cracked jokes and told stories and made up alternate lyrics to the music on the loudspeaker and generally acted like a third-grader trying to get the attention of his first crush.

Not that she'd ever reciprocated. Oh, she was friendly enough, in her reserved way. But though she would banter with him if there was nobody in the store, she'd never flirted back or texted outside of work, even when he would shoot her a what's-up every now and then to test the waters. She'd never even given him the look when they were alone and the store was locked up and he'd just made her laugh, and . . .

Clearly he was a fellow Jitters employee and nothing more.

He sighed, tossing the cloth into the laundry bag. It was probably good they were both leaving. Unrequited love was probably great for radio hits, but terrible for his self-confidence. Maybe he'd get lucky and lock eyes with a hot fellow TA during orientation, and if he ever ran into Caitlin around campus, he could smile and catch up without that tinge of longing pressing on his chest.

He checked the bathrooms, just in case that one last "no, I'll be five minutes, I really need the bathroom" guy had left a horrible present behind.

Luckily, they were spick and span. Caitlin had cleaned them a couple of hours ago, so he could probably eat off the floors. He narrowed his eyes at the toilet paper holders and opened one. "For Chrissakes," he muttered.

Caitlin was rolling coins when he knocked on the door jamb. "Hey, Charmin' Hal hit us again," he said. "I need the keys."

She looked up. "What? When did he get in?" She handed him the key to the supply closet.

"Maybe when we had that drive-thru rush around nine? He got all three spare rolls."

She shook her head. "What does he use them for?"

Cisco shrugged. "We don't have to care in -" He checked his phone. "About thirteen minutes."

By the time he'd replaced all the spare rolls, Caitlin was signing the deposit slip. "We good?" he asked.

"Just about. I have to lock up the safe. Can you grab the pastry cart?"

"On it." He tossed her the keys to the supply closet, and she caught them. "Wooo!" he cheered. "A stellar catch from Snow on third!"

She smiled in a way that made his stomach all warm, but turned away and started gathering up all the stuff to go in the safe. He grabbed the cart and wheeled it out front to start filling the ruthlessly cleaned pastry case so it would be ready for the openers.

After a few moments, the safe thumped closed, the light in the office switched off, and she came out to help him with the last pastries. When they'd filled the case, she handed him a roll of bills, his share of the tip jar. "Oh, and this. It came on the truck today."

It was an envelope with something stiff and plastic inside. He ripped it open and found a gold Jitters membership card. "What's this? Some kind of comment on how much free coffee I drank in my tenure here?"

She smiled. "Every Jitters team member that leaves on good terms gets a lifetime membership in the loyalty program." She nodded at the card. "You were here for more than a year so you get gold."

And fifteen percent off Jitters drinks and food. "Nice!" Discounted caffeine was not to be sneezed at, especially in the program he was going into. "What'd you get? Titanium? Diamond-encrusted?"

"Managers get platinum," she admitted.

"For the kind of crap you put up with, you should get free Jitters for life, not just twenty percent off," he said. He'd personally seen her smack down entitled Karens, kick out jerks creeping on baristas, and call the cops on a dude who was flashing people in the drive-thru.

She shrugged. "It's still a good deal." She reached out and hit the lights, so the lobby went dim and quiet.

More than once, he'd wondered what she would do if he leaned over and kissed her in the soft after-close darkness. The thought came up again. Why not? Last chance, right? She was so close he could smell the hazelnut syrup she'd spilled on her apron earlier. What if he just -

But her silhouette had already turned and started walking to the back, and her voice floated to him. "Come on, let's clock out."

He cleared his throat. "Right. Yeah. Let's do that."

He'd cleaned out his tiny locker earlier, so all he had to do was whip off the apron and toss it in the laundry bag. Caitlin's landed on top of it, and she picked up her purse and the bag of things from her own locker.

"Have you got everything?" she asked. "I signed my key back to Tina earlier, so I wouldn't be able to get us back in."

He patted his pockets. Wallet, keys, phone. "Got it all," he said, grabbing the bag of stuff from his locker.

He clocked out, approved his time card, and then stepped back to let her do the same. The staff door shut behind them with a heavy, final thunk, the lock clicking.

"End of an era," he said. "The Cisco and Caitlin closing show is no more."

"Yep," she murmured.

They stood in the tiny parking lot, the lights spilling down to form a pool around them, keeping the darkness back. On the other side of the building, traffic rushed by.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, suddenly awkward. "So, uh. This . . . this was cool. I liked working with you."

"Me too."

"Good luck with med school and all that. Maybe I'll, um, I'll see you around campus."

"Probably not," she said. "The med school is on the other end of campus from the engineering building."

He looked at his shoes. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"So maybe we should arrange to meet up sometime," she said.

It took a moment for the words to percolate, and then he blinked at her. "To - "

"Meet up," she said again. "For, um, for coffee or something."

Hang on, was this like a post-employment thing? Meet up with your manager afterward? To what, like, talk about work stuff? She was aware that they worked (had worked, past tense) at Jitters, not a Fortune 500 company, right?

"Sure," he said slowly.

She put her hands behind her back. "Only if you want. I know you'll be busy."

Something pinged in his brain. Maybe it was that bashful motion, maybe it was the angle of her chin as she looked away. Maybe it was the trace of a blush across her cheeks.

He held up a hand. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

Her eyes went big, and her cheeks went pinker. She bit her lower lip.

"Oh my god," he said in wonderment. "You are. You're asking me out."

She looked utterly crestfallen for a split second, then rallied. "Okay, I can see I might have misinterpreted certain -"

He almost yelled, "I didn't say no!"

They both goggled at each other for a moment.

"What are you saying then?"

"I - yeah, absolutely, yes, let's -" Hook up? Date? Have a torrid love affair? Get married and have a succession of fat happy babies? Yes please, all of the above. "Let's do that. But - you - you knew I liked you?"

"You were kind of flirty," she said.

"But you never - You acted like you weren't even the tiniest bit interested!"

"Cisco, I was your manager up to three minutes ago! That's like the definition of sexual harassment!"

"Not if I'm cool with it!"

"Okay, but if we'd started dating a year ago, every time I made a schedule, people would have said I was giving you more hours or better shifts or not making you do the icky jobs, even if it wasn't true. You know they would've."

"A year ago," he said. "You've had the hots for me for a year?"

She primmed up her mouth. "As you well know, you're very cute."

He felt his grin spread all across his face. "Damn right I am. I'm such sizzlin' hot stuff that you couldn't wait three minutes after you were officially no longer my manager to hit on me."

She went pink to her hairline. "I - I just - it seemed like a good -"

He almost collapsed into laughter. God, why had he never taken that into account? All his pining and longing and yearning, and he'd never once considered how conscientious Caitlin was. Of course she wouldn't have acted like the other manager, Ralph, who was nice enough but went through the cute new baristas like a hot knife through butter. And yeah, people did say that about whatever newbie he was swapping spit with.

When Cisco had chortled himself into silence, she stood shaking her head. But not in a "I changed my mind, you're a complete goober, no fat happy babies for us." More like, "I knew what I was getting into and I still think you're cute, God help me." She had a little smile on her face.

He wheezed out a breath. "So," he said. "We're doing this?"

She nodded, and her smile widened. "Sounds like."

"Just one request, okay?"

"What's that?"

He reached out and took her hand. It slipped into his shyly, but she didn't pull away. He said, "Let's do Slurpees and mini-golf, or hit the pizza buffet, or something. Just, anything but coffee."

FINIS

#Caitlin Snow #Cisco Ramon #killervibe #killervibeweek20 #fanfiction #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #coffee shop AU #the flash

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musical-veebs · 4 years ago

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So it's kind of shameful that I haven't made a post about Snow White Blood's first EP, Once Upon a Fearytale, but if I say 2020 happened I hope you'll understand. The super short version is that I rather enjoy it (check out Lullaby for the Undead if you're impatient and just want one song), and I've been looking forward to a full album ever since I heard it. The good news is that it's finally coming out in about a month from when I'm writing this, and the first song from it was just released (which is what this post links to).

Quick thoughts before I get sidetracked: Snow White Blood does fairy tale-inspired symphonic metal, and they do it well. It doesn't quite manage to stick to the more traditional versions of the stories (ask your favorite folklorist all about it), but it's still fun what they do with them. The singer, Ulli Perhonen, is pretty great and why I know of the band in the first place, but I'm also a fan of what they do with the instrumental parts. This song, Shared Hearts, is based on Snow White and Rose Red (no, not that Snow White, the other one), which was an interesting choice because I suspect the reason most people heard about the band in the first place was that Ulli Perhonen did guest vocals on the Blackbriar song...wait for it...Snow White and Rose Red. The two songs take it in different directions though, and I like both. The singers feel better matched in this one though...Ulli really outshines Zora Cock in the Blackbriar one. Zora's pretty good and I like her on her own in some songs, but she doesn't really have the power to match Ulli. I feel like Lilly Seth's voice and singing in this one complements hers better.

Uh, anyway, Blackbriar is fine in general even if not usually my thing, and Snow White Blood is great, and Ulli Perhonen is a highlight of whatever she's involved in, and they both did songs about the sisters Snow White and Rose Red, and they're both pretty good. Go listen to them. And stuff.

Ok, now that that's out of the way...

I caught the premiere of Shared Hearts because I just kind of happened to be looking at the time, and it took a little adjusting at first because I'd just been listening to Fearytale again. Once I got into it though I ended up putting it on repeat for like half an hour and spent most of that time Having Feelings (including crying) about my own sister and our relationship.

[oops I got sidetracked for a few hours by being very tired, but now I'm back...hi!]

Where was I? Right, so...I've gotten the impression over the years that my relationship with my little sister when we were growing up was not typical. So many people have told me stories about how much they fought with their siblings or just were indifferent and didn't have much in common, but the two of us were pretty close in age and always got along really well. Not quite as intense as in this song, but there was a reason strangers sometimes thought we were twins. We weren't like best friends or anything, and we were definitely capable of driving each other nuts sometimes (especially me...sorry about that), but we were always close and got along with each other and each other's friends and spent a pretty decent amount of time together. I knew lots of people who couldn't survive ten minutes together in the car to go get ice cream or something, while we managed ten hours with no problems to go visit family.

We were remarkably well behaved and could keep each other entertained with silly games or songs or making up stories about the shark-infested forest or whatever. Back then I was more of the smart, nerdy one and I always thought she was the cool one, but as we've both gotten older it's pretty clear that she's a huge nerd too, just in a less stereotypical way, and I might be a bit cooler than I gave myself credit for. She's also super smart and has done a frankly intimidating number of different things, not just for her age but for anyone. And it's funny because back when we were both in school she was the more social one, while I was the one who was single until my mid-20s, and I was more known as the academic one. Now she's the one who went to grad school while I was too busy being disabled and never finished high school, but she's had more bad luck with relationships than anyone deserves and I'm very happily living my best queer, poly life with a bunch of wonderful people. Go figure.

And I say all this and could go on at length for a while longer, and people could tell you I bring her up in conversation fairly regularly and have plenty of nice things to say about her, but...

After she moved away for school we gradually drifted apart. Even though she lives a couple miles away again at this point now that she's done with it we still hardly ever talk. We get along fine when we do, but we're both such different people at this point that I never even feel sure how to talk to her, much less what to talk about. I'm so worn out all the time from just existing that I never get around to figuring out what to do about that. And I think this song may have just given me the push to do it anyway. Maybe I'll mention some of the stuff I said in here. Maybe I'll just send this to her. Who knows? It's about time to do something though. I only have one sister, and I lucked out and got a pretty great one, and she deserves better from me if I can manage...

#metal #symphonic metal #sisters

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tolkien-in-beleriand · 5 years ago

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so a number of people is curious about PhD here in Brazil and as I have nothing else I want to do right now let me tell you about it

I’ll talk about the two processes I went through for my PhD (masters is kinda the same but a bit simpler)

as I already told you here in Brazil the best universities are free, it’s kinda hard to get in but if you do you have the best education available in the country and chances are you will get some kind of scholarship. in my case as I am poor as hell I had a scholarship since first year of grad school and also a place to live. yes, I was paid to live in a nice city away from my abusive family and to study in the best program of my field in Brazil

then came the masters in which I also had a scholarship

and then the nightmare begins

see as part of my scholarship I had to finish my masters in two years. what does it mean? it means that in my second year I was writing my masters dissertation, finishing papers, preparing for qualification, then argumentation, writing my PhD project and preparing for the PhD tests

and of course as you probably know by now I love complicating things so I applied for two PhDs programs. why? only God knows, but I did. now each university has its own way to deal with PhDs applications so I’ll tell you about the two kinds of tests I had to go through

first my home university:

first you write a project. 20 pages. must have: abstract, key words, title, introduction, methodology, cronogram of activities, bibliographic references. it must present a certain novelty in the idea, they want something new, a thesis (that I will later prove right or wrong in 200 to 300 pages). my thesis was basically “Fantasy is a literature genre and it IS NOT the same as fantastic literature (don’t get me started - I wrote a PhD thesis about it but I’m still bitter)”

you need to hand this project in September. then in October is the written test. in our field the written test (in this particular university, as I said it varies) is: they pick a literary topic, that is a surprise only reveled to us mortals the day and hour of the test, and we have four hours to write an essay about it, in a room like an exam, no researches allowed. the topic in my year was History and Literature. then they grade the essay 0-10 and you need at least a 7 to go to next phase.

fine, now the few people who got the 7 go to phase “analyzing the project”. you get a grade on that too. and you need a 7 to pass as well.

then if you are lucky enough to have your project accepted you go to phase “interview” when a board will make all kinds of questions about your study, project, plans, you know... to make sure you were the one who wrote the thing and know what you’re talking about (I just need to mention here that at my interview they said my project was perfect and made 0 questions because, and I quote, “we know your trajetory and we know what you are capable of and no one else studies Fantasy Literature here”)

then they grade the interview. if you didn’t get at least a 7 bye bye bird, it doesn’t matter if your project was perfect and you aced the written test, it’s goodbye

after this they add all the scores and divide by something and if your final score is below 7, that’s goodbye too.

then you need to do the language test because oh yes YOU DO NEED TO KNOW TWO FOREIGN LANGUAGES to be accepted in any PhD program here.

and that’s it for my first application. I passed first place. usually the good programs gets scholarships and our program was very good so we had like six scholarships every year for sure and then maybe more. they give the scholarships according to the final score so yep I got it

but... when I traveled for my second PhD application I still didn’t have any of my scores, I didn’t even know if I had passed the written test and let me tell you I was desperate and honest to God terrified I wouldn’t pass

anyway, now process number two:

they make things quite different there and they are way more demanding so I was just really terrifie that I would end the year with a crappy masters and no PhD perspective.

first test they do is the language one, a translation and ooooh boi do I hate translating stuff. but it was okay, I wasn’t worried about that part. the system there was very different. while at my home university the process was spread through months, here you had three days of tests and if you failed the first day you are not even invited for the next day. again, you need 7 to pass.

so first day: language test, 52 people applying. 20 passed for day two, me included.

second day, written test. I knew they had a different style from my home university but I was not prepared for that. they gave you 10 questions, all about literature. you had to pick five and answer. so you kinda had to write 5 mini essays on 5 different topics and the questions were like “in the page 25 of the essay Memory in Baudelaire by Walter Benjamin the author express a view on how experience play a central part in the story of the narrative genre. comment on that.”

one of them was to “comment on” the trajetory of the novel as a genre. I read the 10 questions then I started laughing. then I noticed the Professor in the class was the one I wanted as my supervisor there (she is like a big deal in Fantasy studies), the one who, in two months, would be in the board of my masters argumentation. I started crying. so much. I had to be escorted to the bathroom to “calm down”. well, I thought, it’s over, I better not even come back to the exam room and save me the embarrassment of looking the Professor in the eyes. but I couldn’t do that. I had to at least convince myself that I did everything I could. so I went back and started answering the ones I thought I had a shot at. we had four hours too and after doing my darnest to answer 4 questions I wanted to die before having to answer one more. so I chose the novel one because, you know it’s not that hard to trace a genealogy of the novel as a genre. but I was so tired. so incrediby tired and I thought I won’t pass anyway so I might as well have some fun. and friends, what did I do? I wrote a mini novel where my protagonist was the novel “living” through all its phases. I can’t remember a word of that but I did it.

when I was back to the hotel I started crying so much and felt so guilty, I was sure I would fail both programs. next morning the result would be on campus and honestly I only went there because I had spent too much money to just ignore the result, I would never have peace if I didn’t check. but I was really really sure I didn’t pass so I checked out the hotel, got into a taxi, asked him to take me to campus for two minutes, so I could check a thing, and then he could take me to the station

ooooh I have no words to describe my happiness when I looked to a list of FIVE names who had got through to the next phase and my name was there.

I still can’t believe it and until this day I wonder what kind of crap did people write because they considered my “novel is a protagonist of a novel” answer over other 15????

anyway so I was happy but fucked because I had checked out the hotel so I had no place to go and the interview would be only at 5pm so there I was full of bags wandering around the campus waiting for my interview.

interview time: board with two fucking specialists in the Fantasy field and an ass who thinks she is above this. I was very nervous, they asked a bunch of questions about my project (oh yeah I forgot to say you had to hand a project like in the other uni and it is considered part of your application as well) and then... last question... from the ass “why do you consider fantasy as literature” I froze, the other two smiled (they knew my reputation). I want to murder that woman. why do I consider fantasy as literature? WHY?? son of a motherfucking bitch. so I smile*** and ask “what do you study?” she answers “Goethe” with an air of superiority. I say “oh I love Goethe, he is magnificent and the way he.... bla bla bla” I was just showing off. then I say “now think about why you consider Goethe literature. that’s your answer.” I want to say that if I had a mic I would drop it but nah... if I had a mic I would probably make that bitch eat it.

they didn’t have score there, you only passed or failed. I passed. one of five. from 52. I got a scholarship there too, but I decided to stay home. my supervisor at my uni was amazing and a wonderful person and so so smart and funny and he is in a band and is super cool and nerdy, also one of my best friends and one of the most successful translators in Brazil

so yes. this is two of the possibles processes you can go through to get in a top PhD program. and that friends is the easy part. seriously, masters and doctorates are exhausting and it breaks you. neurotypicals get mental illnesses because of it and honest to God I don’t know how I managed it. neither does my doctors. no, actually I know. it was spite.

*** funny story: because of an incident in my masters interview, before my PhDs interviews my supervisor called me to “teach me how to interact with stupid people”. he basically told me I was not supposed to laugh at a stupid question, I was not supposed to death stare the board after a stupid question and, of course, I was not allowed to get up and leave. because I did all that in my masters interview and almost didn’t get into the program. then he made me pretend he was the board talking shit and I had to smile and take notes. his words “it doesn’t matter if you are writing a curse and planning that person’s murder, smile and take notes.”

in my defence I did all that because in my masters interview a Professor asked me if I knew that Tolkien was an author who died in the 70s and that The Lord of the Rings wasn’t just a movie. after I laughed and asked if she was joking she got mad and then I tried to explain that yes, I did in fact know that John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, born in January 3rd, 1892 and dead in September, 2nd, 1973, was an author and wrote the book called The Lord of the Rings who inspired Peter Jackson’s trilogy. then I pointed out that my study had nothing to do with The Lord of the Rings, book or movie. I was in fact studying Tolkien’s essay “On Fairy Stories” and how critics point out The Lord of the Rings as the base of moderny fantasy without noting that Tolkien himself wrote the theory I consider the foundation of fantasy as a genre. then she said “that was done before” and I said “no it wasn’t, surprisingly enough people never came to this conclusion until now” and she looked me in the eyes and asked “are you sure? did you do a deep and careful research on the matter?” and I said “yes I did” and I swear to God she asked “did you try google it?”

yep I just got up and left. did I try google??? are you fucking serious? yes I did, when I wasn’t even at the uni yet you moron. google. can you believe it? I was reading papers from Oxford and Cambridge and this ass ask me if I used google.

I had a very bad score at my masters interview but my supervisor loved it anyway.

so that’s it. I hope it helps to have an idea how things work around here.

#phdblr #phd #masters #academic life #long post #very loooong post

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kcrabb88 · 5 years ago

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Ooh, Enjolras and Combeferre, for the asks?:D

Enjolras: What are the two things you’re most passionate about?

ONLY TWO let’s see.

Writing! Obvious probably, but true. I do have trouble writing when I’m deeply anxious, but I am very much not the sort of person who generally speaking, has to fight to sit down and write. I WANT to write. All the time I want to, even if I’m annoyed about what I’m working on. I’d write if no one paid me ever (can’t say that on Twitter, or I’m advocating to not pay artists, apparently, but that’s not what I mean, I just mean that writing is a compulsion for me, a thing I NEED to do, whatever the monetary result).

My work with Sister District! I have been feeling a bit shit about this lately because everyone is so focused on the presidential election (I GET WHY, I do!) but state elections really and truly are so deeply important, which we are seeing even more right now. Doing this work over the past three years has really helped me stay out of the Political Internet Despair Cycle. People well and truly ARE out there fighting the fight! And I’ve met some amazing candidates who are doing so much good work in their states!

If I could put three, the third one would be musicals! Which everyone here knows already.

(I like how I spend 40 hours a week being a librarian which I do enjoy! But I define my personality more by these three things hahahaha).

Combeferre: Describe your best friend.

How to describe my favorite people!!

@librarianladyx is my roommate and very own Feuilly! We are a team! I can depend on her for absolutely anything and she encourages me about everything I do and also is very kind in dealing with my occasional neuroses! She lets me read my writing aloud to her (she’s deeply smart and is a great editor!) we go to the theater and travel together, and she is the most generous person I know. I am lucky to be stuck inside with her, truly!

@distractedkat My life would not be the same without her! We survived our broke grad school/and just post grad school years together. She is deeply funny and if I ever need a pick me up she is perfect for it! She’s an amazing writer and is so resilient and she can do anything she puts her mind to. RIDE OR DIE.

#Thank u Pilf!#KCrabb does memes #pilferingapples

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mrsrcbinscn · 4 years ago

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Franny’s 30 Day Cover Challenge

Playlist

Franny’s 30 Day Cover Song Challenge: (categories are mostly from here, and here, with some from here, and a couple I made) in September 2020 one of her musician friends challenged her to do the thing and she was like “It seems like a fun way to show everyone what kind of music has influenced me as a musician, singer, songwriter, and just like, person. So I’m going to do it.”

In reality, she recorded most of them in 1-2 days to distract her from how sad she is because Wilbur hates her and he’s sad lmao

It helped a little.

(If you want me to drop the playlist she mentions in #24 let me know, I have it started I can finish it)

TW: mentions of Franny’s political beliefs so tw: politics, an allusion to suicide though the word isn’t directly used, mention of 9/11 and the subsequent invasions...nothing graphic with any of these triggers but worth a forewarning

Day 01 - A song that makes you happy

Honey Spiders by The Parlotones

“The Parlotones are this fantastic indie rock band out of South Africa. And I actually thought about doing their song, uh, Stars Fall Down for day sixteen, but I’m going with Honey Spiders for day 1. There were lots of Parlotones songs, I mean. Push Me to The Floor, We Call This Dancing, Should We Fight Back...but ah, Honey Spiders always puts me in a good mood.”

Day 02 - A song that helps you clear your head

Light of a Clear Blue Morning by Dolly Parton

“I grew up on Dolly, and it’s funny because for the longest time this song wasn’t really on my radar as much as it is now. But when I was twenty-two I was going through something really difficult, and my then-fiance now husband was abroad for work, so I was alone in our apartment and just. Really, profoundly sad and lonely. So I put on a Dolly Parton record and just laid on the bed and Light Of A Clear Blue Morning played and I had a good long cry and felt so much better after that. When I need to think about how to solve a difficult problem, or I feel overwhelmed, I just listen to that song.”

Day 03 - Song you love from a band/artist you hate

Should’ve Been A Cowboy by Toby Keith

“Honestly, he’s called me a nasty lady to my face and I’ve called him a facist enabling pig to his, so I have no qualms openly saying I hate Toby Keith. That being said, Should’ve Been A Cowboy is one of the best country songs of the 90s, undeniably. I loved that song when it came out when I was thirteen, and I still love it.”

Day 04 - A song about drugs or alcohol

Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss

“This is probably cheating, because my lovely best friend Daniel and I cover this a lot at Dara & Danny shows. But today look who I have! My friend Max from Seoul Hanoi’d! Max the Korean Scot who can’t hide his accent to save his life, so let’s see how it sounds in a Scottish accent.”

Day 05 - A protest song

Talking Vietnam Blues by Phil Ochs /// and Here’s to The State of Mississippi by Phil Ochs

“This one was hard because I. Fucking. Love. Protest music. I could have done a whole 30 days of protest music - wow, let me know if I should do that and give my husband a heart attack with all the twitter threats I’ll invite. Huh. Right, so I was going to do Your Flag Decal Won’t Get You Into Heaven by John Prine. But I decided to do two Phil Ochs songs because I don’t think Phil Ochs is talked about enough. It’s a shame we lost him so young. Ochs’ sardonic humor and honesty in his writing has influenced me as a songwriter deeply. When I write political songs, I don’t hold back, and it’s because of Phil Ochs’ writing that I have that courage. I’ve been singing Love Me, I’m A Liberal since I was in college with constantly updating lyrics. It was so hard to even choose which songs of his to do because for his fairly short career his songbook is lengthy and full of gems. I’m Going to Say It Now, Draft Dodger Rag, Spanish Civil War Song, I Ain’t Marching Anymore...I couldn’t pick one so I’m cheating and recording two.”

Day 06 - A song you wish you wrote

When I Think About Cheatin’ by Gretchen Wilson

“I will forever be pissed off that I didn’t write this song. I’m absolute trash for my husband, so it’s never -- I’ve never had to be in a situation to ever consider -- but this song gets me every time. It feels like I could have written it. Because we do spend a lot of time apart travelling for our work. And the sentiment expressed in the song is a little too real.”

Day 07 - A song in a language you don’t speak

Khattar by Khine Htoo

“This will either be a charming attempt to sing in Burmese or I’m about to offend a lot of people. Which, being a politically outspoken woman on the internet, I’m used to anyway. So. 1, 2, 3, okay here goes.”

Day 08 - A song by an artist no longer living

Phop Samnang by Sinn Sisamouth (inspiration)

“Haha, you thought I’d see the name of this category and not do a Sinn Sisamouth song? You were wrong.”

Day 09 - A song you want to dance to at your wedding

Devoted To You by The Everly Brothers

“I’m already married, so this was actually our first dance song at our wedding. Day three of our wedding, like the more Westernized wedding ceremony day. We had a three day long traditional Cambodian wedding and I felt like a princess. An-y-way!”

Day 10 - A song that makes you cry

Borrowed Rooms and Old Wood Floor by Emily Scott Robinson

“Unfortunately, Emily Scott Robinson and I aren’t related. Sad, I know, because she’s so talented. Almost her entire album Traveling Mercies is...sad as hell. The record reminded me of early Dolly Parton, and my second solo album. You know, all those sad-ass songs. The Dress is honestly the song that makes me the saddest but I can’t even listen to it without crying so.”

Day 11 - A song that you love hearing live

Prove My Love by Violent Femmes

“There is nobody I have seen in concert more than Dolly Parton, but Violent Femmes and George Strait come incredibly close. The Cranberries, the amount of times I saw them in the 90s and early 2000s...close fourth. Probably. The very first concert I dragged my husband to was a Violent Femmes concert, he was not prepared for how hard college me went.”

Day 12 - A song from before 1960

There Ain’t No Sweet Man That’s Worth The Salt of My Tears by Libby Holman

“This song is from 1928. I came across it when I was in grad school and it’s, as the kids say, a bop.”

Day 13 - A song you think everybody should listen to

White Man’s World by Jason Isbell

“I think perspectives of people of color should of course take precedence in these conversations. But I find this song to be a good faith attempt of a white man coming to terms with the institutional racism and sexism in the world around him. And I think this song can be a useful tool to explain certain concepts of racial justice to ignorant but well-meaning folks. As a woman of color I think Jason Isbell did a great job not centering himself even though it was from his perspective. This song is great musically and necessary socially.”

Day 14 - A song from the 1970s

You’re No Good by Linda Ronstadt

“Linda Ronstadt is grossly underrated, that’s all I have to say here.”

Day 15 - A song people wouldn’t expect you to like

Racists by Anti-flag

“I mean, I’ve talked about how much I like punk in the past, and I remember a video of Seoul Hanoi’d doing Spanish Bombs at a San Antonio show made the rounds, but I don’t think I’ve talked about how much I like Anti-flag. People don’t expect me to like punk for some reason. But I agree with...everything punk music is all about.”

Day 16 - A song that holds a lot of meaning to you

Blue by LeAnn Rimes

“It’s silly, but I won a county fair singing competition with this song in high school and it really fueled my passion for music, that win. It’s also the first song Cornelius heard me go full Georgia on, with the yodels and all, at the little bar in my hometown on his first trip meeting my parents. The song doesn’t cut to my very soul ot anythin’, but it’s special to me.”

Day 17 - A song attached to a memory

Supernova by Liz Phair

“I remember buying Liz Phair’s Whip-smart album when I was eleven. And in college, when I was getting ready for dates with Cornelius in my dorm room, I would dance around to a CD I burned and wrote on it with a sharpie, ‘Pre-date Movie Scene Music.’ God, what was even on there? I’m about to expose myself as the most basic 1999-2001 bitch. I remember Head Over Feet, I mean, Alanis Morisette? I was a young woman in 2000, obviously I loved her. Mm, Dreams by The Cranberries...oh, Kiss Me, Sixpence None The Richer...yeah, anyway, Supernova was on there.”

Day 18 - A song from the year you were born

Call Me by Blondie

“...I can’t believe Call Me is as old as I am.”

Day 19 - A song that reminds you of someone you miss

Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing (yes, of course she does a cover with banjo)

“This was my late best friend Molly’s favorite hymn. And I sang it at her funeral at her husband’s request. Molly and I grew up together in the small town of Payne Lake, Georgia and Molly was the most devout Christian...but she was also the first person I came out to as bisexual when I was a teenager, and she said that Jesus taught her that love was the greatest commandment and that meant I was automatically twice as good at it as her. Her faith guided her every action but she never talked down on her two best friends - Dan(iel Maitland) and I for not sharing it. Molly was doing the whole emulate Jesus thing beautifully. I miss her every day and it’s been seven years. If you ever think that people won’t miss you...you’re wrong. All right, let’s see if I can get through this without crying.”

Day 20 - A song by an artist you discovered this year

Hello, Anxiety by Phum Viphurit

“I just discovered this quirky Thai-Kiwi singer and not to be dramatic, but he’s my favorite thing in the world right now.”

Day 21 - A song with a city or country in the title

Oh! Phnom Penh (track 20)

“This song was written after the fall of the Khmer Rouge, and after people began to make their way to what was left of their homes, alone, or with what was left of their families. If you want to learn more about what that was like to actually live it, my cousin Reena Boran has a video interviewing her parents and paternal grandfather and uncle about it. Reena is a journalism student currently studying in London but she lives in Cambodia. Her mother is my aunt Malisruot, my mother’s youngest sister. The video is English subtitled on her channel, I’ll link it in the description box below.”

Day 22 - A song from the 1960s

To Sir, With Love by Lulu

“I didn’t actually discover this song until I heard it covered at a 10,000 Maniacs concert in the 90s. My friend Allison was standing next to me and I just started crying and she’s like ‘are you okay?’ and all I just blubbered out ‘My dad!’ For the uninitiated, my dad married my mom, who’d raised me alone until then, when I was six and he adopted me when I was eight. My dad didn’t have to adopt me, he didn’t have to call me his daughter, he could have just been like half of my friends’ stepdads and give me a place to live and nothing else. But my dad was my biggest supporter from day one. He convinced my mom to let me join the dance team and show choir instead of science club, he was the one that talked my mom down from probably killing me when they found out I was only studying music and not music and political science at NYU. I am who I am today because he is my dad. And this song just says everything I’ve always thought about him.”

Day 23 - A song from your childhood

Una Lacrima Sul Viso by Bobby Solo

“But Franny, aren’t you a Cambodian raised in the US? Yes, but you were fooled. My very white father is also an immigrant. He is from Switzerland and while he didn’t teach me to speak Italian and German growing up, he played German, Italian, and French records all the time. My parents often spoke to each other in French and I picked up some French but properly studied it starting in high school, and I didn’t study Italian until college -- and my German is still …. [points to a spot on the screen where she later inserted a card linking to a video on her cousin Köbi Framagucci’s YouTube channel titled ‘Can My American Cousin Speak German?’ where he tests her Standard and Swiss German speaking and comprehension]. But hell if I couldn’t sing every one of the songs from my father’s French, German, and Italian record before I knew what the words even meant.”

Day 24 - A song that gives you chill vibes

Glorify by Ivan & Alyosha

“Dan(iel Maitland) and I actually have an entire playlist on my Spotify accounts of songs to listen to to get us out of writers’ block. And one that I often will put on repeat and just absorb through my headphones with my eyes closed is a song called Glorify by Ivan & Alyosha. I think it touches on a lot of the themes I include in my songwriting. Christian mythology, the darker side of humanity, it often reminds me of what I love about songwriting. If you say please I might drop a link to that playlist.”

Day 25 - A song that’s your signature song

Long Gone Lonesome Blues by Hank Williams“Right, so I chose this instead of a Kitty Wells song or I Get A Kick Out of You (her being

featured on a 2005

recording propelled her career majorly) because if you’re familiar with me you might have seen a video that went around in like….2017? 2016? of Dan(iel Maitland) and I doin’ the song at our hometown bar in 2014. I posted it in response to some tweets because hoes mad when a WOC calls out racism and sexism in the Nashville music industry. ‘Bet she don’t even know Hank’, really? You think I wouldn’t know the history of one of the two music industries I work in? Please. Anyway, she knows Hank and nails the incredibly technical yodel -- the

most difficult

one in Hank’s songbook - in Long Gone Lonesome Blues. Mm...Lovesick Blues though, that also strikes fear into my heart. Anyway stay mad I guess?”

Day 26 - A song by your favorite band

Gun Shy by 10,000 Maniacs

“10,000 Maniacs was one of my favorite bands when I was in like 5th grade through 10th. I listened to them for a little while after Natalie Merchant left for a solo career, but the Natalie Merchant era was really what resonated with me the most. Gun Shy was a bit too advanced for my little 5th, 7th grade ears to really appreciate when I first discovered the album In My Tribe. Merchant’s voice -- because like, I don’t have a very conventional voice either, so her and Dolores O’Riordan really changed my entire perspective on what a woman’s voice can sound like in rock music. Um, yeah, so her voice more than the lyrics just wowed me. And as I got closer to graduating high school and especially in college I actually understood what What’s The Matter Here, Hey Jack Kerouac, and Gun Shy were talking about. Gun Shy...really became a significant song to me because...being born in 1980 I grew up in a relatively peaceful time. The Cold War was all but thawed by my tenth birthday. But I was getting ready to leave my then-boyfriend-now-husband’s apartment for class at NYU on the morning of 9/11. We stood in line for hours to donate blood. And then my government invaded two completely unrelated countries and jingoism and terrifying, fervent nationalism, and xenophobia just smacked me in the face. And friends of mine from high school were convicted to drop out of college and join the Army, and died, for an unjust, imperialist war, and suddenly Phil Ochs, John Prine, and Bob Dylan lyrics hit a lot different, and I understood what Gun Shy was really about.”

Day 27 - A song you hate by an artist you love

Mrs.Robinson by Simon & Garfunkel

“Paul Simon is one of my favorite songwriters ever, um, and I actually used to like Mrs. Robinson….until I got married and everyone sang it at me. It’s kind of my fault, I did choose to take my husband’s last name. And I leaned into it by making my social media handles all Mrs. Robinson...but still. Only play the song around me if you want to die.”

Day 28 - A song that a younger you would have loved

Mean by Taylor Swift

“I’m so genuinely glad that I am older than Taylor Swift. Middle school Franny did not need Taylor Swift to enable me and fuel my ego. Some of her singles, while not really 35 and 40 year old Franny’s cup of tea, young me would have played until my mother hid the record or cassette from me. Although - fuck if Tim McGraw didn’t immediately give my happily married ass flashbacks to my first love and make me bawl like a baby? Right, so when Speak Now came out and I listened to it, Mean, while not a song that adult me has listened to maybe more like ten times, I immediately thought ‘wow, I needed this song when I was in middle and high school.’ I could literally picture 7th grade me with my little guitar and my little cowboy boots my dad bought for me singing this at the talent show making eye contact with the kids who bullied me as if it was some kind of own when it’s not. I could still, almost thirty years later, name them if I really wanted. So, for 7th grade me, Mean by Taylor Swift.”

Day 29- A song that reminds you of your partner/spouse

ផាត់ជាយបណ្តូលចិត្ / Phat Cheay Bon'dol Chet by Sinn Sisamuth (translation) (female singer covering it) (modern, studio recording of a male and female singer dueting it) (a cool violin cover) (another female singer) (cool guitar cover)

Feat. some members of Seoul Hanoi’d. Andy Chaiyaporn (violin), Max Cho (piano), Jodie Batbayar (cello), Aisulu Niyazova-Li (percussion) and Franny has her guitar

“The song, lyrically, only reminds me of my husband a little bit. But Phat Cheay Bondol Chet has several memories with my husband attached to it. The first time he heard me sing in Khmer was at my mother’s house in Atlanta when I had him visit the first time to meet my parents. My mom had a little dinner party at our house to show him off, like Asian moms do when they think their daughter snags a good one, and I was hand washing the dishes while my mom and the other Cambodian parents were listening to Sinn Sisamuth records. I’ve always loved the song I’ll be showing y’all today, like I’ve always just stopped what I was doing and -- so it came on and I just started singing along without really being aware of it. And then at a different diaspora get together that summer, that song came on and I just kinda. Pulled him aside to the side yard of that person’s house to look at the stars with him and translated the song. It’s one of the Khmer songs he instantly recognizes now, so it’s special.”

Franny did NOT say in the video that college her 100% had him sit in the grass with her outside that person’s house, where nobody could see, so she could makeout with him

Day 30- A song by one of your favorite songwriters

Reincarnation by Roger Miller

Feat. Seoul Hanoi’d, done more in the style of the Cake cover

Also instead of singing the lyric “you’re a girl, I’m a boy” she goes “you’re a girl, so am I” because she doesn’t ever change pronouns, she just makes it gay because she is a bi-con

“Roger Miller, to me, is as important as Dolly Parton, Paul Simon, Bob Dylan, in the American songbook. He’s not as talked about which is a shame because his discography is iconic. Getting to be a part of King of The Road was one of the highlights of my career.”

#&&...hc

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softfists · 5 years ago

Text

I listened to this episode of the Ezra Klein Show the other day and found it profound and moving and thought I’d pass it along. It’s an interview with Dr. Alison Gopnik who studies cognitive development in children. She and Ezra talk about a lot of things, but one idea that stuck with me was that we don’t care for people because we love them, but that we love them because we care for them. This seems like a truism, but it really isn’t, especially within the context of their conversation. (Also I just highly recommend The Ezra Klein Show in general, as Ezra is an excellent interviewer and brings on a variety of interesting, smart people.)

It resonated with me because for most of my life, I wasn’t a very caring person. It wasn’t that I was an asshole, but care and the ways it’s conventionally expressed just weren’t really a part of my emotional vocabulary. My family wasn’t particularly emotionally expressive when I was growing up, though of course they loved me. Both of them are very cerebral, and whether it was their genetics or upbringing, that’s how I was too. Still am for the most part. It took a lot of effort to become the kind of person who wasn’t perceived as cold and aloof most of the time, even by my friends. When I was in high school, my best friend wrote me a letter saying, “I want you to know there are people who want to care for you and it seems like you don’t notice or want anything to do with it”. This was my best friend, so it was a real wake up call. I didn’t even really feel particularly aloof. The only brain you ever really know is your own, so this was just my normal.

When I got to college, I decided I was going to be different. Initially it was only because I was obsessed with how I’d be perceived professionally. I’d known I wanted to be a scientist since I was 15 or 16, and so was obsessed with early networking and putting on a good, likable face for professors who would write me grad school letters and peers who might later be in my field. I learned this from my mom who’d also cultivated a professional mask to overcome her shyness, introversion, and disinterest in the feminine workplace norms of her time. When the idea of putting on this persona stressed me out, she’d tell me that it was a skill like any other, and if I could learn how to do math or read, I could learn this, too.

The funny thing is, over the course of several years, I discovered that fake it till you make it does actually work. I was afraid I’d come off as artificial and everyone, including my friends, would figure out I was only playacting warmth/care/empathy. But no one ever called me on it, and slowly I realized I wasn’t playacting anymore. In the past, I’d liked my friends, but it was a very cerebral kind of relationship: I liked talking to them about things that interested me, and because I’d been very judicious, my friends were uniformly thoughtful, interesting, and smart. This wasn’t in itself a bad thing but it did mean if they tried to have a friendship based on more than that, my response would be to abort and extract myself from the situation. Loving people just for who they are and not for their interestingness utility still feels like such a recent development that I continue to be surprised it isn’t the draining, terrible slog I was sure it would be. I’m fairly certain I’m still in the lower percentiles of warmth among the general population, especially toward people I’m not already close to, but I’ve also discovered that one of the greatest joys of being alive is caring and being cared for by my loved ones. Once upon a time I didn’t even think I had the capacity to care half as much as I do now. I know this is something most people learn early in their lives, but because I came into it so late, every time I remember is a small, happy revelation.

#personal

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goodticklebrain · 5 years ago

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Q&A August: Austin Tichenor of the Reduced Shakespeare Company

They say you should never meet your heroes, but obviously “they” were never enlightened enough to consider Austin Tichenor of the Reduced Shakespeare Company a hero. Like many Shakespeare geeks, I was exposed to Reduced Shakespeare Company’s performance of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged) at an impressionable young age. Once the DVD came out, I watched it over and over again, soaking up the irreverence and affection for Shakespeare like a sponge. It never occurred to me that I would one day meet the curly-haired pompous idiot in the black pants whose antics had entertained me so much, let alone be lucky enough to call him a friend, but that’s exactly what has happened.

I first met Austin (after exchanging mutually admiring tweets with him) in April of 2016, during their world premiere of William Shakespeare’s Long Lost First Play (abridged) at the Folger Library. I was prepared to be utterly starstruck, but Austin was so wonderfully down-to-earth that within minutes I felt like I’d known him forever. Totally lacking the pomposity and idiocy of his stage persona, Austin was overwhelmingly encouraging and supportive of my work, immediately welcoming me to play with him in the Shakespeare comedy sandbox. I had literally just started working full-time on Good Tickle Brain, so his enthusiasm meant the world to me.

I could gush about Austin for many more paragraphs, but I’m sure you’d rather hear from him, so here he is, my Comedy Fairy Godfather, in his own words!

1. Who are you? Why Shakespeare?

I’m Austin Tichenor, a playwright, director, and actor. I'm the co-artistic director of the Reduced Shakespeare Company, a three-person comic theatre troupe that reduces long serious topics into short silly comedies.

My first exposure to Shakespeare was undoubtedly in the original series of Star Trek! I read Shakespeare in high school English classes and got to see fantastic productions of Shakespeare at American Conservatory Theatre in San Francisco and the Berkeley Reprtory Theatre, but I didn’t get to actually WORK on Shakespeare until grad school where I both played Claudius in a production of Hamlet and reduced my first Shakespeare (it was a directorial exercise: a five minute reduction of Much Ado About Nothing). My first professional theatre job was creating plays for young people so I went to Shakespeare immediately, creating 45 minute cuttings of Much Ado, Midsummer, and The Tempest.

So the opportunity to join the RSC in 1992 and perform its signature work The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged) (written by the RSC’s founders) in London’s West End for eight months combined all my theatrical loves: smart silly comedy, non-realistic theatricality, and Shakespeare — which is kinda redundant, now that I think about it

2. What moment(s) in Shakespeare always make you laugh?

My favorite moments are typically when characters make incredible discoveries about themselves, and these are usually comic. Malvolio’s “I am…happy!” Terrible actor Francis Flute fully committing to the moment on “Dead, my dove?” Benedick’s “There’s a double meaning in that.” Hamlet toying with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, or telling Claudius he “shall nose” the dead Polonius as he goes upstairs. Olivia’s “Most wonderful!” when the penny drops and she realizes “Cesario” is actually Viola (and Sebastian’s twin).

3. What's a favorite Shakespearean performance anecdote?

I have two!

1) We were performing William Shakespeare’s Long Lost First Play (abridged) for the Shakespeare Theatre Association conference — the savviest and most knowledgeable group of people I’ll probably ever perform for, ever. I was playing Richard III and limping downstage to say my first line, one of the most famous first lines in all of Shakespeare. But I was distracted because I saw there were people sitting on the sides and I didn’t want to limp too far downstage for them to see — and in my distraction I said, “Now is the moment of our...” As soon as the word was out of my mouth, I knew I’d blown the line (it’s supposed to be “Now is the winter of our discontent”) and I knew I couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t happened; not in front of that crowd, not in our style of show. So I quite audibly said, “Oh f&$# me,” and limped back offstage to come in again. This time I said the line right and emphasized the first word: “Now is the winter of our discontent!” It brought down the house and everyone asked whether I’d planned it. Sigh…no, I hadn’t.

Mya interjects: I was in the house for this performance and this moment remains one of the highlights of my theatre-going career. What Austin neglects to mention here is that Reed, who had been left alone onstage after Austin had retreated, went over to the wings as if to confer with Austin, and said, sotto voce, “No, I don’t think anybody noticed.”

2) We were performing The Complete Works on a stage that had a little runway that circled the orchestra pit. In one of the scenes, Adam Long (one of the RSC’s founding members) decided to hop over the pit, from the stage to the runway, and he ended breaking the runway floor and falling through the boards. Thankfully uninjured, and delighted that he had this opportunity, he immediately uttered the immortal words, “Don’t worry, it’s just a stage I’m going through."

4. What's one of the more unusual Shakespearean interpretations you've either seen or would like to see?

I’m glad that nowhere in here have you asked what my favorite play is. I don’t have favorite Shakespeare plays, but I do have favorite productions. Here are two:

1) The Folger Theatre at the Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington DC’s production of Love’s Labor’s Lost was delightful from start to finish: Incredibly smart, wildly funny, and wonderfully charming. The director and her team made the King’s desire for “a little academe” quite literal by re-creating the Folger Library’s handsome reading room onstage. (I wrote about this terrific production here.)

2) The Chicago Shakespeare Company production of The Tempest, co-directed by Aaron Posner and the magician Teller, turned Prospero into an actual wizard and filled the production with literal magic. (There must have been magic in Shakespeare’s original production as the First Folio has a stage direction that mentions that characters disappear by means of “a quaint device”. Teller filled his production with many quaint magic tricks and devices!) With music by Tom Waits and great comedy from its clowns, it was the most entertaining and completely realized production of The Tempest I've ever seen.

Favorite moments?

When Henry IV (Jeremy Irons) slaps his snotty son Prince Hal (Tom Hiddleston) in The Hollow Crown adaptation of Henry IV, Part 1 taking him (and the audience) by total surprise.

When Francis Flute’s (Sam Rockwell) emotions bubble to the surface unexpectedly in the ridiculous “Pyramus and Thisbe” in the film version of Midsummer.

When Juliet (Claire Danes) stirs and almost wakes up in time to prevent Romeo (Leonardo DiCaprio) from killing himself in Baz Lurhmann’s Romeo + Juliet.

When Antigonus (Gregory Linington) distracted the Bear, dooming himself but preventing the death of Perdita, in the Goodman Theatre production of one of my least favorite plays The Winter’s Tale.

5. What's one of your favorite Shakespearean "hidden gems”?

The hidden gem of Shakespeare is actually right out in the open: He’s written incredibly theatrical plays, filled with rich and elusive characters that still fascinate us 400 years later, and even the most serious of his plays (including his Histories and especially his Tragedies) contain more comedy than is generally realized (or pulled off). Shakespeare was a showman whose livelihood depended on entertaining his audiences, so he created plays filled with music, devices, comic bits, fascinating characters, time jumps, changing perspectives, and shifting tones that are always serious (especially his Comedies) but never solemn.

(You don’t ask what my Shakespearean pet peeve but here it is: Productions that lack urgency and ignore the above, as in: Comedies that are beautiful-looking and melancholy but not funny. Histories that ignore the comic chaos that Shakespeare layers in. Tragedies that are one-note, over-the-top, and not in any way believable. Romances that equate pastoral with languid and not compelling. Argh.)

6. What passages from Shakespeare have stayed with you?

Oh so many...

Beatrice’s “Kill Claudio,” which comes seemingly out of the blue and yet is so right.

Falstaff’s honor speech, when done right, in front of a live audience.

And I find Miranda’s “O brave new world that hath such people in’t” just incredibly moving. (I’m always moved by Joy. Tragedy can suck it.)

Mya interjects: “Tragedy can suck it” might be my new personal motto now. Thanks, Austin.

7. What Shakespeare plays have changed for you?

Henry VI, Part 1. Reading it again recently, I was struck by the level of chaos Shakespeare depicts in a kingdom struggling without a ruler. It’s almost like Monty Python meets Veep: Sentences can’t get finished because people are running in and out, declaring “I’m in charge! I’m in charge!” with grand impotence. Of course Shakespeare would write it like that: He needed to entertain his audience, who were probably also nervous about their aging queen who had yet to declare a successor. Shakespeare created a chaotic warning that England shouldn’t descend into that kind of comically dangerous madness again — a warning that wasn’t really heeded, unfortunately.

8. What Shakespearean character or characters do you identify the most with?

Having played so many of them (albeit in reduced forms), that’s a tough call. But because I’m also an actor and a playwright, the ones I probably identify with the most are Shakespeare's seemingly autobiographical ones: Peter Quince, the only (I think) actor-playwright in the canon. Hamlet, the Danish prince with surprisingly strong opinions about theatre’s power and how certain speeches should be played (and how annoying comedians can be). Benedick, who struggles with his writing so comically. Suffolk, who in Henry VI, Part 1 declares, “I’ll call for pen and ink and write my mind.” And Bottom, of course, who thinks he can play anything.

Mya interjects: PETER QUINCES OF THE WORLD, UNITE!

9. Where can we find out more about you? Are there any projects/events you would like us to check out?

I’ve spent the last several years doing incredibly deep dives into Shakespeare, across many media:

My RSC partner Reed Martin and I wrote Pop-Up Shakespeare, an incredibly fun (and useful) introduction to the Bard’s life and works with beautiful, amazing, and funny illustrations by Jennie Maizels.

I contribute monthly essays about the intersection between Shakespeare and popular culture for the Folger Shakespeare Library’s Shakespeare & Beyond blog.

My weekly podcast (now in its 13th year) is a backstage glimpse into the life and works of the Reduced Shakespeare Company, featuring interviews with our many comedian, actor, playwright, author, director, composer, dramaturg, and artist friends and many many deep dives into matters Shakespearean.

Reed and I also wrote the definitive irreverent reference book, Reduced Shakespeare: The Complete Guide for the Attention-Impaired (abridged), which is still inexplicably in print (perhaps cuz it’s definitive).

We also wrote the stage play William Shakespeare’s Long Lost First Play (abridged) (“An absolute resolute hoot of a bawdy comedy of errors!” Broadway World), which premiered at the Folger Theatre in 2016, has toured the US and the UK, and is available for licensing via Broadway Play Publishing.

And in November 2019, the RSC will perform the international premiere in Israel of our brand new script Hamlet’s Big Adventure (a prequel) — what would happen if Tom Stoppard wrote Muppet Babies. It’s the comedy of the Prince of Denmark!

If after reading all this, for some insane reason you still want to get in touch, come find me here on Twitter. I think Mya will agree that it’s a much more civilized and fun place than its reputation suggests.

(Back to Mya) Thanks so much to Austin for taking the time to answer my questions! If you want to HEAR us actually talking to each other check out:

Reduced Shakespeare Co. Podcast #493

Reduced Shakespeare Co. Podcast #532

Reduced Shakespeare Co. Podcast #653

Q&A August continues next week with two phenomenal women who are using Shakespeare to build the most amazing things.

#Q&A August #shakespeare #reduced shakespeare company

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