#so he (an architecture major) dressed up as an architect

[corvidlore]

A view from above, circa October 2022

I feel bad for people who’ve never experienced a corn maze bc it’s not even fun but you just have to do it

[angellesword]

MAGIC SHOP | JJK (01)

Description: You and Jungkook were best friends who were in love with each other. What would happen when Soojin, your half sister who you’re trying to impress, told you she’s in love with Jungkook too?

Alternatively:

“Would you believe me if I said that I was scared of everything too?”

Genre: childhood best friends to lovers, family drama, angst, fluff, slow burn, pining, slice of life au.

Pairing: Architect!Jungkook x Architect!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings/Note: This fic doesn’t include incest okay? Taemin only treats Jungkook like his own son but he is not related to OC and Soojin by blood. But if you’re uncomfortable, please don’t read. Soojin’s mom HATES OC for being an illegitimate child.

SERIES: CHAPTER 2

"Oh shit, shit, shit—"

You clamped your eyes shut upon hearing the unending profanities leaving Soojin's mouth from the other line.

This same thing had happened more than you could ever count that was why it didn't come as a surprise to you when Soojin, your sister, asked you this: "Fuck. Can you please pick me up? Dad is going to kill me!"

When she said 'dad,' what she really meant was the head of the architects as well the people involved in the project you two were currently working on.

"Soojin, Both of us will be late if I come and pick you up. Can't you just hail a cab or something?" You sighed, stopping the car when the traffic light turned red.

You were just two minutes away from the office.

"But I hate the smell of cabs!" She whined. You could imagine her pouting her lips since she didn't get what she wanted in the first try.

"Please?" She tried again.

You remained quiet.

"You're my sister. You should always be on my side!"

You could no longer keep your mouth shut after that.

You exhaled loudly, finally relenting. She won. You could never say no when she started pulling the 'you're my sister card.'

Admittedly, it was the key to your soft spot, the only thing that could melt your cold heart—the only thing that made you feel like you were a true Kim.

Kim Soojin. This was your half sister's complete name. Her surname was something you had wanted to use ever since you were a little girl. Your father promised you that he would let you carry his last name when you reached the age of majority.

You were twenty six now. Eight years had passed since you turned eighteen and yet, the last name of your mother was still attached to your first name.

Huh. You should have known that nothing would change. You didn't even know why you were still expecting when it was clear from the very beginning that Kim Taemin, your father, never kept his promises to you.

He always let you down, always made you feel that you didn't matter. You didn't want to be like him. This was one of the reasons why you chose to pick up Soojin from a hotel even though it would cause you to be late at work.

You didn't want to disappoint Soojin. This, however, didn't mean that the latter felt the same way.

"You reek alcohol..." You winced as soon as your sister entered your car.

She was wearing the same dress she wore at the party last night. Soojin liked bar-hopping with her friends. She actually invited you but you couldn't join them because you were busy preparing for today's presentation at work.

You and Soojin were both architects at Castle, the architectural firm owned by your father. As mentioned, you two would be presenting today—both as leaders. There were two teams in your department and Jungkook, the head of the architects, chose you and Soojin to lead each team.

In short, your sister was your rival. You knew you should be rejoicing now that it looked like she was an intoxicated mess, a clear indication that she wasn't ready to face your colleagues.

However, instead of delight, the only emotion you felt was disappointment. You were disappointed that she was acting so reckless when she was supposed to be leading people towards success.

"Yeah I know. My head is killing me." She sighed dramatically as she eyed you from head to toe. "Let me borrow your coat. I'm wearing a tube dress. I can't go to the office looking like this."

You took off your coat and handed it to her without a word. She needed it more than you do. Your dress was already appropriate for work. You only paired it with a coat because it's cold in the building, but you'd live.

"Ugh. I need coffee. Can we get one? And what's that thing you made me drink when my head's spinning? I need that too." She locked in her safety belt, a sign that she didn't want to get what she needed to make herself feel better.

She wanted you to be the one to buy her a coffee and probably some ibuprofen to help with her hangover, and since you were the best sister in the whole world, you did exactly what she wanted you to do, leaving her in your car—but not after asking her to open your laptop to send your presentation to one of your teammates via email.

You had the revised copy of your team's output. You knew you would be late so you wanted them to start without you.

You trusted your group. You were certain that they could manage even if you were out here buying vanilla bean frappuccino with three pumps of raspberry syrup for your sister.

Unfortunately, you overestimated your team.

They were a hot mess without you. They couldn't start the presentation since they believed that you had what they didn't have.

"Oh, so now the VIP decided to show up, huh?" You were welcomed by Sin-ae's sarcastic remark the second you entered the conference hall.

Kim Sin-ae was your father's legal wife so you understood why she hated you.

"I'm sorry. Traffic's terrible..." You lied, bowing your head as you continued to apologize to everyone.

"And yet you still have time to buy yourself a coffee..." Sin-ae raised her brow.

You automatically hid the plastic cup on your back. This was Soojin's coffee. She asked you to hold it for a while since she needed to go to the washroom to freshen up a little.

"I'm really sorry..." This was the only thing you could say before making your way towards your panicking teammates.

"What happened? Why haven't you guys started yet?" You whispered, eyes darting to the black screen of their laptop.

"We can't start without you, team leader. You have the revised copy of our project." Mina groaned, tears pricking at her eyes.

She was frustrated as she explained that they tried to sidetrack the important people in this room through motivation and corny jokes.

It didn't work. The panel was pissed off, especially Soojin's mom.

"Did you check your email? I asked Soojin to send it to you," your heartbeat doubled when Mina nodded, feeling dejected.

"I did. But you sent a blank document."

"Shit." You tongued the inside of your cheek, striving to calm down as you opened your laptop.

You still had ten minutes before Soojin's team took over.

You could do this.

But for the second time around, you were incorrect.

You couldn't do this—not when your file seemed to be corrupted. You couldn't even find its contents anywhere.

"Shit, shit, shit..." It was your turn to cuss nonstop. What happened to your damn file?

You felt like you were about to faint when someone suddenly tapped your shoulder.

You looked back only to see Jungkook's soft brown eyes. He had this look that instantly calmed you down.

"Are you having problems?" Even his voice was soft. "Do you want help? Tell me what I can do for you..."

Jungkook knew you were stubborn. You rarely admitted your weakness so he already expected you to shake your head, refusing to accept any form of help.

"There's nothing you can do. Our file is corrupted..."

Jungkook's eyes dilated.

"No." He shook his head too.

How could this happen? It was impossible. You were many things but being reckless wasn't one of them.

He knew how much effort and time you had exerted for this project. You would never allow bad things to happen to it.

Fuck.

Did someone sabotage you?

But who?

"Good morning, everyone!"

The door of the conference room abruptly opened, revealing Soojin who didn't look intoxicated anymore.

She looked fresh, like she woke up on the right side of bed.

She looked like she had already succeeded.

"I'm right on time, aren't I?" Soojin smiled when she spotted your team packing up.

You were too stunned to know what was happening around you—too stunned to know that Soojin planned all of this.

She only pretended like she was drunk so she could sabotage your whole presentation.

She was a good architect, but she knew she'd lose this project. She saw glimpses of your plan and it was clearly better than their team's output.

Soojin couldn't accept defeat, not when this project would serve as a way to be closer to Jeon Jungkook, the love of her life.

The winning team would have the privilege to work with the head of the architects. Jungkook would lead the project together with Soojin.

Mrs. Lee, their client, was a business person who was also an advocate of mental health. She said she wanted Castle to think of a plan that would ease the mind of people.

Soojin's plan was to build a luxury spa that would help people who were in distress to feel relaxed.

Since you blew your chance to show off what you've got, the architects working at Castle didn't have a choice but to just agree with Soojin's plan.

It was approved immediately, especially because Kim Sin-ae coaxed everyone to choose Soojin's idea.

Sin-ae wasn't an architect but she was allowed to be in this conference room since she was not only the wife of the chairman, but also a great friend of Mrs. Lee.

"Thank you so much for choosing our team." Soojin's smile was big as she shook the hand of Mrs. Lee.

"It's my pleasure..."

It broke your heart to see Mrs. Lee smiled. It wasn't because you were jealous of Soojin's achievement. It was more like you hated yourself for being an idiot.

You overworked yourself. Maybe because of exhaustion, you deleted the contents instead of saving the changes you made.

Damn. You should have checked it again this morning.

You continued to beat yourself up as you watched Mrs. Lee conversed with Jungkook and Soojin.

Your stomach dropped at the sight. Soojin was wrapping her hands around Jungkook's biceps.

Luckily, someone blocked your eyesight. You didn't think you could bear another second looking at them.

But you know what they said, it wasn't always luck.

You knew luck wouldn't be on your side now that your father was in front of you, demanding you to look at him.

"Father..." You bowed, greeting him.

Taemin didn't smile, keeping a stoic expression.

"You disappointed me," was the first thing he told you today. You knew he was here, watching you fucked up.

He didn't say anything when his wife threw sarcastic remarks at you. He also didn't ask if you were okay or if he could help you when it was apparent that you were struggling a short while ago.

Your father paid you no mind as he conversed with Seokjin, your half brother who was five years older than you and Namjoon, your other half brother.

Your two older brothers were engineers but Jungkook invited them to ask for their opinions, hoping he could learn a thing or two.

Out of the six members of your family who were here today, only Jungkook showed you kindness.

Jeon Jungkook who wasn't even related to you by blood.

He was just a dear childhood friend who happened to be loved by the Kims, someone who was adopted by your father when he became an orphan.

Taemin couldn't just abandon little Jeon, which was very in contrast to how your father treated you.

"I'll do better, father." You said, voice sounding like a robot.

Taemin clenched his jaw.

"You better. The next time you fucked up, you won't be allowed to set foot inside my building. Do you understand?"

"Yes, father..."

With that, Taemin left. He was immediately followed by your brothers who didn't even spare you a glance.

"A bastard without a brain. I'm glad you're not carrying our last name—" Sin-ae sneered at you right before following her sons out. "—because it would be such a shame."

You didn't have the chance to respond because as soon as Sin-ae left you alone, Jungkook and Soojin came near you.

"We're having lunch with Mrs. Lee and our family today. Wanna join?" Soojin smiled sweetly at you.

You couldn't answer because of the lump in your throat, and also because you didn't really hear what she said. Your whole attention was focused on Soojin's hand that was still wrapped around Jungkook's biceps.

"Yeah, didn't you say you like steak?" Jungkook also smiled at you. His doe eyes were sparkling.

"Ah," you swallowed thickly, finally realizing that they were inviting you to have lunch with them.

"You go ahead. I still have things to do."

"But you haven't eaten breakfast yet." Jungkook's lips protruded into a pout, his forehead creasing.

He knew you for more than two decades now, meaning he could tell if you had eaten already or not.

Judging your expressions—constantly touching your stomach while hiding your other shaky hand behind your back, he could tell that you were hungry.

He also knew that you had a habit of skipping breakfast because you had no appetite from five to nine in the morning. You usually ate at around 9:15am, but you didn't have the chance to do that since you were caught up with today's meeting.

"Uh..." You bit your lower lip, trailing off. You didn't know what excuse to give him since your mind was still not working.

What was the polite way to say leave me alone. I don't want to be with anyone right now?

"Don't force her, Jungkook. Maybe she's not in the mood to eat yet..." Soojin. She was the one who found an excuse for you. She was looking at you as if to say that she got it, that she would not let Jungkook bother you any longer.

Soojin pulled Jungkook towards the exit, leaving him with no choice but to just look at you until he couldn't anymore.

No one could see you anymore.

You were alone in this cold empty room.

You knew you would break down if you stayed here any longer.

And so you left too.

You left the building because the whole place was suffocating you—reminding you that you messed up.

The only place that could calm your heart was the playground. It was located near the elementary school where you and Jungkook studied before.

No children were allowed to go to this playground during class hours. Most of them flocked here at around four pm so right now, it was only you who was sitting on the swing, sighing.

It was such a gloomy day. You were glad that the sun refused to shine while you were having a bad day.

At least one thing felt right.

"I know you'd be here..."

Or maybe two things felt right.

"Are you stalking me?" Your head snapped up, meeting Jungkook's gaze.

He was standing in front of you. You saw him shrugged his shoulders upon hearing your question.

"Whatever you wanna call it. I'm just here because I know you're hungry..." He flashed a toothy grin as he handed you some food.

You accepted it without hesitation. He brought your favorite sweet probiotic drink, some chocolate bars, and a corn dog.

"I can't believe you only bought one corn dog," you shook your head, feigning disappointment.

"Ah, I bought two..." Jungkook was blushing. "But I was hungry so..."

His response elicited a hearty laugh from you. Of course he bought two corn dogs, of course he ate the other one even though he swore to himself that he would never give into temptation.

He loved corn dogs, just like you did.

"Don't laugh at me! You're not the only one with a growling stomach, you know?" He pushed the swing forward.

"Jungkook!" You gasped, heart skipping a beat because of the sudden movement.

He only stuck his tongue out at you.

God. He was such a child.

"What? I didn't get to eat steak so you can't judge me for eating your food!" He snatched the beverage he gave you.

He wasn't planning on drinking it. He was only opening it for you.

You were holding the corn dog on your left hand while your right hand was gripping the chocolate bars.

Jungkook brought the small bottle of beverage closer to your mouth, urging you to drink from the straw.

You did.

You moaned too. It was delicious.

"Stop moaning, you wench!" He glared, causing you to smirk.

"Why? Are you turned on?"

"Shut up." He was flustered again. He even pouted his lips after drinking from the same straw you used. Just like with the corn dog, he also couldn't resist drinking this tasty beverage.

You didn't comment on it. Jungkook was your best friend. He could have whatever you have. Apart from this, you didn't have the energy to nag him.

You appreciated the silence. You simply wanted to enjoy your lunch and Jungkook's presence.

He was lightly pushing the swing back and forth. It made you feel relaxed and for a moment, you stopped the negative emotions from clouding your mind and heart.

You decided to only let the good stuff embrace you. After all, you had a lot of things to be thankful for.

You made a mistake but you were alive, breathing and able to correct it.

You made a mistake but you were healthy, having the energy to create a plan in order not to let the bad things be repeated again.

You made a mistake but you still had a job.

You also had enough money to get by.

But most importantly, despite your mistakes, you still had Jeon Jungkook—someone the world couldn't take away from you, even if they tried to.

And that was enough for you.

more JJK fics:

one shot: EUPHORIA

completed series: YOUR EYES TELL

MASTERLIST

i appreciate feedback ����

[itslieutenanthawkeye]

Lucky Guy

Day 7 of Jeankasa Week: College AU

AO3

Sasha and Connie dragged him forward; they’d loaded him up on caffeine that very afternoon, picked up a set of clothes for him and tried to shave his stubble. Jean hadn’t allowed them to do the latter. The night was starting, and he already felt tired.

Final exams had worn him out, consumed all his energy for the sake of a pass, for the sake of a chance of a good job in the future, a nice home for his family. Not that he had any prospects at the moment, mind you. All he seemed to have was stress, and exhaustion nowadays.

He understood that the two dragging him to the party wanted to help him wind down, but Connie had already started taking over for his family business and Sasha had graduated culinary school a year ago. They were living the adult, independent life already.

Meanwhile Jean was stuck with physics and mathematics. At least the artistic portion part of his classes was fulfilling.

“So, where’s Niccolo?” Connie asked as they got on the tramway.

“He had to close up, but he’ll meet us at the party later.” Sasha said, taking them to the long seat at the back of the tramway. Jean sat in between the two, listening to their chatter in silence. “Aren’t you going to lighten up, Jean? You look like someone just died.”

Jean lowered his head, the repetitive rattling of the cart almost lulling him to sleep. “My will to live has died.”

“Come on, man, is it that bad since Marco left?”

“That traitor.” Jean said, with a tone of voice that spoke longing instead of anger.

Marco and he had decided to study architecture together; Jean driven by his knack for drawing, Marco driven by his desire to be by his side. A year into their university course, however, he’d gotten that scholarship to study photography in Hizuru. A great, one-in-a-lifetime opportunity that didn’t come around twice.

An opportunity that would force them to stay apart for four full years. Since neither had enough money to fly back and forth and Jean had not wanted to give up his studies in Paradis, they’d decided to remain friends. They’d been friends since the beginning, after all.

After the first months of heartbreak, Jean had realized that Marco had left him with just about enough money to pay for three months of rent. Although he couldn’t blame him, Jean had gotten the habit of cursing him lowly for the past year, whenever he was forced to balance his part time job and his ridiculous physics lessons.

“I still don’t understand why you don’t get another roommate.” Connie said, scratching the back of his ear. “Are you just holding out until a cute guy shows up at your door?”

“Or girl.” Sasha added, opening a bag of potato chips sneakily.

“Oi, Sasha,” Jean said, frowning. “We’re gonna get a fine because of you.”

“I’ll pay for it,” Sasha said, waving her hand to undermine the matter. “You guys want some? They’re new spicy ones.”

Jean reached out under her jacket and took a few chips into his mouth. “I take it the restaurant is doing well? With you being okay for paying fines, I mean.”

“Niccolo said that breakfast menu I came out with put us on top. If we keep it up, in about two years we’ll be able to set our next location,” she said proudly, her mouth also half full of chips. She gave Jean a significant look. “We’ll need an architect for the place. And someone here will be almost finished with uni.”

He smiled. “Thanks. I’ll make sure to remind you.”

“You know you can ask for money, right, Jean?” Connie said, resting his back against the seat. “You don’t need to work yourself to death when you’ve got us.”

Another lazy smile came to his face. “I don’t want to be a burden to you guys.”

“You’re more of a burden when you don’t come with us to these things,” Connie said. “First, you missed all barbecue nights at Niccolo and Sasha’s. And now you didn’t want to come, and you know Reiner throws the best parties. His little cousin took down that Galliard guy the last time.”

“Isn’t she a kid?” Jean blurted out.

“She likes to sneak in to get in fights with the college kids.” Connie explained, laughing. “I think she’s been in martial arts since five or something.”

“Now that’s a surprise,” Sasha said, elbowing Connie as the tramway arrived at its next station. Jean looked at the person getting on and his breath caught. Wearing a corseted black dress, her hair up in a high ponytail and wearing a choker around her elegant neck, Mikasa Ackerman stood out as a comet across a blue sky.

“I didn’t think she’d come tonight,” Connie said. “You know, considering Eren.”

“What happened with Eren?” Jean asked.

“Don’t you check her feed?” Connie asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “You know, since you had that huge crush on her in high school and whatnot.”

“I’ve been busy.” Jean said, too tired to try and deny that crush he’d had on her in their school days, the crush that had always irked Marco somehow. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m too busy to be concerned about other people’s drama.”

“They broke up,” Connie said in a gossipy tone, as if Jean hadn’t just snapped at him. “Around six months ago. He skipped town. Didn’t want to be tied down or something, wanted to be free as birds or whatever. He’s backpacking in the continent, I think.”

Jean sat straighter on his seat. That dick. That stupid, nihilistic piece of shit. “Why didn’t you guys tell me? Isn’t Sasha her best friend?”

“Because you disappeared the whole semester, man. That’s why I told you to ask for money instead of working yourself to death,” Connie said, shaking him by the shoulder. “You miss out on parties and gossip.”

“Stop it. She’ll hear you,” Sasha said, lifting her arm to wave at Mikasa. “Hey! Mikasa, over here! Come sit with us!”

Jean felt heat in his cheeks. “Sasha, don’t. She’ll come.”

“That’s what I want.”

“I can’t talk when she looks this pretty.”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Stop being an idiot, Jean.”

Mikasa’s eyes caught sight of them and she made her way to their seat, not bothering to hold onto anything to keep her balance as the tramway moved forward. They had known each other from high school and little things had changed about the way she moved; she carried herself with the elegance of a swan, and the strength of a mountain. He remembered teasing Eren about her being the boss in their relationship during their very last year of school, when the embers of jealousy had begun to die for Jean, and chuckled lowly at the memory of the enraged response he always received.

“Hi, everyone,” she greeted them. Sasha scooted to the side, and Mikasa sat between her and Jean, close enough for him to smell her perfume. “Are you guys going to Reiner’s?”

“Best parties in Trost.” Sasha said, offering her the bag of potato chips. “Want some?”

Mikasa dipped her hand in the bag. “Aren’t you scared you’ll get a fine?”

“She says she’ll pay it,” Connie explained, reaching over Jean and Mikasa to grab more.

“Sasha,” Mikasa said sternly. “How many more fines are you going to pay?”

“She’s paid more this month?!” Jean said.

“She has. It’s getting ridiculous, she can’t go on a tramway without getting hungry…” Mikasa stopped herself from talking and settled her eyes on him, with a vague surprised expression on her lovely pale face. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been busy with work.” Jean said, shrugging, hoping that she wouldn’t see the blush in his cheeks that look of her had caused. He waited a second, wondering if he should bring up that he had, in fact, seen her. “I saw you, though. Drawing, in the Maria building.”

Understanding washed over her face, and her mouth fell open. “You should’ve said hi, Jean.” She said. “It’s a huge classroom, there’s no way I could’ve seen you.”

“I’m sorry.” Jean muttered. Truth was, he hadn’t wanted her to see him in the state he’d been in two weeks ago. With his double shifts at work and his assignments for the end of the semester, Jean had resembled a walking corpse more than a human.

Mikasa was an anthropology and history major and, much like Jean himself, worked part time jobs. However, with her looks, most of her part time jobs were related to modeling. That morning at creative drawing, she’d been hired to pose for the class covered only by a thin sheet. And despite being a class full of professionals, Jean had still not wanted the girl who resembled a goddess to see him bordering a mental breakdown.

“Have you been getting enough sleep?” She asked him.

“Does it show that bad?”

Mikasa’s mouth made a perfect O in terror. “I didn’t mean to sound like that.”

Jean chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. It shows. If uni wasn’t free, I would’ve gone broke already.”

“You need to look after your health more, Jean. Have you even been eating well? If you don’t sleep and don’t eat well, you’re just going to burn out,” Mikasa said, then froze, grabbing the hand that was going to reach out to him. “I’m sorry. I just sounded like a mother there.”

“You’re right, though.” Jean replied, smiling at her. “I haven’t been eating well. With work—”

“Is that why you haven’t been to any of the barbecues?”

“You went?”

Mikasa nodded. “We missed you.”

Jean’s head came up with a thousand names to call himself in that moment. He missed his friends enough during the semesters without the knowledge that she’d been hanging out with them at barbecue night. “I’ll make it next time.” He managed to say. “Did Armin go?”

“He’s been busy with moving in with Annie.” Mikasa said, sighing. “I don’t think I’d talk to anyone outside work if it wasn’t for Sasha and Mina.”

“Wait, Armin moved out too?” Jean asked, growing concerned. “Did those two just up and left you alone in that huge apartment?”

“Armin left me some money to pay a couple more months’ worth of rent.” Mikasa said, almost apologizing in Armin’s behalf. Jean’s fists clenched automatically; he’d seen how smitten he was with that marleyan girl, but leaving Mikasa alone to pay for that huge apartment by herself…

“Besides, I insisted,” Mikasa added with a low voice. “I didn’t want him to wallow in self pity with me when he has a perfectly lovely girlfriend.”

Jean sighed tiredly. He should’ve known. Even heart broken, Mikasa cared more about her friend’s happiness than her own economic safety. In a way, it was something that made her all the more charming in his eyes.

“Hey, are you two going to ignore us all the way there?” Connie asked, slapping the back of Jean’s head. “Why did you have to sit in between us if you’re just gonna talk to each other?”

“He’s right,” Sasha said, shaking Mikasa by the shoulder. “Mikasa, pay attention to your best friend now! She brought chips for you!”

Mikasa narrowed her eyes in Sasha’s direction. “Since when do you carry food for anyone but yourself, Braus?”

Sasha’s face contracted into a miserable expression, and she threw herself over Mikasa, hugging her while kissing her head. “Not the last name treatment, Mikasa!”

Maybe a few years ago, Mikasa would’ve thrown Sasha back onto her seat. This time, however, she limited herself to exchange an amused look with him and Connie, patting Sasha’s head in a conciliatory manner. “Alright, alright. Control yourself,” she told Sasha. “Don’t you have a boyfriend? What will Niccolo say if he sees you hugging a woman like this?”

“He’ll probably think we look hot.” Sasha replied innocently.

“What a perv.”

“Mikasa!”

_________________

The tramway took them to the west end of Trost, where high skyscrapers and fancy apartment buildings rose into the sky. The elevator took them a whole thirty floors up to Reine’rs apartment. As soon as they walked in, Jean stared at the ceramic floors, the balcony with its hot tub and view of the distant mountains in the island. When Reiner came to greet them with a hug for each, Jean held him by the shoulders.

“When did you get this rich?” He asked, baffled. How had everyone gotten rich so quick before him?

“My mother and I won the alimony trial last month,” Reiner laughed, hugging him again to then make a wide gesture with his arms at the people in the room. From the way he moved, Jean guessed he was already drunk. “Nineteen years’ worth of unpaid alimony, all paid in full!”

The crowd cheered, raising their beer bottles in the air to celebrate his makeshift toast. “Galliard, Pieck!” Reiner said, stumbling back into the crowd, being caught by the two exchange Marleyan students. “Get the karaoke machine going!”

Sasha and Connie dived into the party in full, going over to Mina, who had her hands full while pouring two bottles of vodka into a large crystal bowl filled with fruits and juice. Jean rubbed his temple; getting drunk wasn’t on his list of priorities, not with so little sleep in his system.

He turned to look at his right, realizing Mikasa stood by the door, watching the crowd move around Reiner’s apartment with apprehension. He took a couple of steps in her direction, leaning against the wall with his hands crossed over his chest, perhaps in a subconscious attempt to appear nonchalant. “See anyone you know?” He asked.

“Too many people.” She muttered in response, rubbing her arms. “Sasha said this was going to be like the barbecue.”

One would think that with her looks and strength, Mikasa would be a little more popular. She’d been an introvert since secondary school, shielded behind the personalities of her two childhood friends. And despite that a few people had managed to break through the cold outer layer of her personality (like Sasha, who’s might as well have gone through it with a war hammer) it always seemed to Jean that there as hidden sadness behind her eyes, a brake of sorts that didn’t allow her to express herself to the fullest.

“Let’s go to the balcony,” she said, pulling his sleeve. “Bring beers.”

Jean almost -almost- felt bad for Reiner’s father as they walked along the balcony. Trost had skyscrapers aplenty, but very few had a perfect look of the suburbs and mountains, and very few had an infinity pool with a hot tub included. The place must’ve costed a fortune. He could almost see his own neighborhood from this height.

They found a set of unoccupied pillowed seats at the corner, far from Reiner’s infinity pool, and sat there to watch the city in silence.

“I live there,” Mikasa said after a while, pointing south to a cluster of colorful buildings. “It’s the big tall one, with the red lights.”

“Ah, party town,” Jean said. He and Marco had tried to find a place there, but the rent had been astronomical, given its strategic location near the universities and clubs. “Was it a big change from the suburbs? That’s where you grew up in, right?”

“It was a huge change from my uncle’s house,” she said, her eyes set on the red building, amused at some memory Jean wasn’t aware of. “He was grossed out when he visited last year.”

“College neighborhood isn’t for him?”

“He said it was too dirty,” Mikasa said, sighing. “Although I’m sure he was terrified at the number of teenagers that threw themselves at him. He said I was to visit him from now on.”

Jean giggled at that. “Girls threw themselves at Levi?”

“Apparently he’s got something that makes university students go crazy.” Mikasa said, making a disgusted noise. Jean laughed again; Levi had been their teacher in middle school. How any college girl found him so appealing, he didn’t understand.

“Well, at least you can have fun in that neighborhood.” Jean said.

Mikasa made another disgusted noise. “I was only there because Eren suggested it. It was too loud for my liking. Too many creeps on the streets. And the rent is too high.”

“How did you guys manage to afford that? I mean, Eren and Armin aren’t precisely rich,” Jean said, covering his mouth as soon as he realized what he’d blurted out. “I’m sorry, Mikasa! I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” Mikasa said, shaking her head in amusement. “Eren’s brother paid for most of the rent. He works in Marley and sent him money.”

She finished with a sigh, setting her eyes on the floor for a second before taking a sip of her beer. When she turned to look at him, Jean recognized annoyance in her eyes. “Now that he’s gone, Zeke stopped paying for that big chunk of the rent.”

“And Armin moved in with Annie,” Jean finished saying.

“And I’m in that huge place all by myself,” Mikasa said, taking another sip from her bottle. “Scraping my bank account to pay utilities, taking any modeling job that comes up besides working at Sasha’s restaurant, two months behind on rent.”

“Did Sasha offer you money yet?” Jean asked, recalling all the times their friend had tried to hand him checks for his rent.

Mikasa smiled. “A couple of times. But I don’t want to be a burden to her. As good as the restaurant is doing, having her own business can be tricky. One bad luck streak and she’ll be needing that money she offers me.”

“What about a roommate?”

“Nobody I know can afford rent there. I don’t want to disturb Niccolo and Sasha, and Levi has plenty on his plate. And it’s impossible to find a place this late in the year,” Mikasa said, sighing tiredly again. “Do you know how close I am to modeling underwear? A man in this shady company offered me so much money for nudes the other day—”

“Move in with me.” Jean blurted out, and his words were followed by excruciatingly long minutes. Mikasa rested her back against the seat, scrutinizing him with those perfect, serious eyes. “I don’t mean in a weird way. I mean, my rent is much less than yours must be. But ever since Marco left, it’s been harder to afford it on my own. I could use a roommate, and all the people I’ve interviewed were weirdos.”

“Won’t Marco be angry?” Mikasa asked politely. “Won’t he be upset that a girl is living with you?”

Jean smiled. “We’re not together anymore.”

“No?” She said, looking genuinely surprised. “Why? What happened? I thought—”

“Neither wanted a long-distance relationship, or had the money to afford one,” Jean explained, surprised at the lack of pain in his words when he spoke of what had happened. Perhaps, the exhaustion throughout the year had forced his heart to get over a heartbreak quickly.

“Besides,” Jan added, arching his eyebrow in her direction. “I know for a fact that hizuran people are beautiful. I couldn’t deny him having fun over there. So, we decided to stay as friends.”

Mikasa smiled, and Jean blushed. “You’re a good friend.”

“I’m not,” Jean replied, leaning back against his seat as well. “I had no idea about you and Eren. You’re our friend since high school, and I had no idea you’d gotten your heart broken too this year. So, I’m not that good of a friend.”

Mikasa rested her hand at her sides, her pinky almost touching his, leaning back to catch sight of the night sky. “You’re in no obligation to carry anyone’s pain, Jean, let alone mine.”

“What do you mean? You’re my friend.”

“I know. We are friends,” Mikasa said quickly, as if noticing the hint of pain her previous words had caused in him. “What I mean is…I knew it was going to happen. I saw the change in Eren. I knew he wouldn’t want to stay put. He was more in love with the idea of freedom than with me. I should’ve ended it a long while ago. So, no need to carry pain that was dragged on for no purpose.”

“And you didn’t want to go with him?”

Mikasa thought about it for a moment. He could hear Reiner and that Pieck girl singing at the top of their lungs inside, as well as Connie’s laughter. And yet, all his mind was set on was her, how her eyes focused on his as she spoke every word, how a bit of lipstick had smudged on the edges of her mouth due to their drinking. Jean had always been aware of Mikasa’s beauty, but he hadn’t been truly enthralled by it in a very long time.

“I don’t think I would’ve gone,” she said at last. “I love the island. I love my home. I want to have a peaceful life here, grow old here. I like seeing new places, but I don’t want to spend my life wandering. He did.”

Jean nodded, understanding her fully. All he’d ever dreamed of was a nice house in the inner districts, alongside the wife -or husband- of his choosing.

“Besides,” Mikasa said with a quiet laugh. “He never asked me to come.”

“What a fucking idiot.”

Mikasa blinked in surprise. “I’m not mad at him, Jean. You don’t need to be in my behalf.”

“I’m not mad on your behalf,” Jean said, shaking his head, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows, feeling all of that frustration he’d had towards Eren in high school come back in full. “What kind of idiot do you have to be to break the heart of someone like you?”

“Someone like me?”

“You’re fucking amazing!” Jean said, shocked by the confusion in her face. “Mikasa, you’re gorgeous, smart, strong. You can lift a whole hundred pounds without breaking a sweat…who would want to break your heart?”

Another chuckle escaped her throat, and she gave him a look that he could only describe a sweet. “Thank you,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “My heart was breaking the whole last year we were together, though. I guess in a way, him leaving helped me heal.”

“I hope he falls into a pit.” Jean muttered, then shook his head. “No, I hope I fall into a pit, for not noticing you were hurting before.”

“You had your thing with Marco moving away,” Mikasa replied. “If anything, I was the jerk for not helping you like Connie and Sasha did. I was too focused on trying to force Eren to be happy with me.”

“Still, I should’ve helped.”

“You’re helping now,” Mikasa replied, lifting her pierced eyebrow. “You’re letting me be your roommate, aren’t you?”

Jean took a deep gulp of his beer before speaking. “So, you are taking up on my offer?”

“Yes,” Mikasa said, setting her eyes on the section of town in which he lived in. “If you take up on my offer.”

“Which is?”

“The agency wants a couple male models,” she said, elbowing him playfully. “I heard from Sasha how you’re killing yourself at that part time. This money won’t be great, I do warn you, but it will be better, and you’ll have more time to study.”

The color traveled to his cheeks yet again. “I-I’m not a model, Mikasa.”

“No need to be modest, Kirstein,” she said, scrutinizing him again, her gaze sensing a shock of electricity across him. “I saw you on that beach trip we did. You’ve got nothing to envy from the models.”

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, and Jean’s mind became a storm. Had she just told him she found him attractive? No, it couldn’t be. She’d just said he had nothing to envy from male models. But that was just a creative way to call someone hot, wasn’t it? She had no reasons to call him hot, however.

“Jean, I think—”

“Niccolo!” Sasha’s shouted drunkenly, startling the two in their seats. It wasn’t until they turned in her direction that Jean realized how close their faces had been to each other.

“Alright, alright. Do it again.” Niccolo laughed, sounding quite drunk himself. Sasha grabbed her shirt and tightened it around her waist, showing him her bloated stomach.

Niccolo giggled. “It’s adorable! It does look like you’re pregnant,” he said between snorts. “How many garlic buns did you eat back there?”

“Why are you calling your baby a garlic knot, Niccolo?!” Sasha half-laughed, half cried, only causing Niccolo to laugh harder. They were soon on the floor, struggling to catch their breath because of their laughter, and Jean was grateful for the protective mesh at the edge of the balcony.

“They’re drunk.”

“They’re high.” Mikasa said, casting a glance inside. “Ymir and Historia are here.”

“No wonder they’re high.” Jean chuckled. Historia wore a beautiful pink dress, looking as happy as ever with Ymir’s hands around her waist. Ymir, as always, wore a dark suit. As always, she was more focused on kissing Historia’s neck than the conversation around her. They’d been inseparable since their wedding, and from the sparkling necklace around Historia’s neck, Jean supposed their business was growing well.

Mikasa grabbed his sleeve. “Do you want to go get some?”

“You smoke that stuff?” Jean asked, wondering when he’d smoked anything last.

“Not really.” Mikasa admitted, looking at Sasha laughing on the floor while placing a thousand drunken kisses on Niccolo’s forehead. “It looks like they’re having fun, though.”

“We could do it to celebrate,” Jean said, shrugging. “You know, each of just found a good roommate and we might not be as broke from now on.”

“You are sure about the roommate matter?” Mikasa asked, frowning. “You’ll have to take a few visits from my uncle.”

“I’ll cope.” Jean said, looking at Niccolo and Sasha. “Are you sure? What if Eren returns and gets mad?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes. “He can get as mad as he wants. I won’t care.” She said, and from her tone of voice , Jean knew she was done talking about Eren for the time being. She looked more annoyed at the inconveniences that Eren had caused her than heart broken. Perhaps, the exhaustion had forced her to get over a heartbreak quick, as well.

Jean offered her his hand. “Shall we, my lady?”

“You’re still an idiot,” Mikasa said, intertwining her arm with his. “Thank you, by the way.”

“No, thank you,” he said, using his other hand to take their bottles. He offered one to her and lifted his own. “Toast? For roommates?”

“For roommates.” Mikasa said. Their bottles clang together, their sound foretelling a change of wind for the two, perhaps.

______________________

Gabi walked along the bookstore holding onto Falco’s arm. She and her mother spent summers with her cousin Reiner in the island. And despite this being her fifth year visiting him and despite the luxuries of his apartment, she missed him terribly each time she left. So, she clung to him before and after her journeys, enjoying their time together as if it were a treasure.

“Want to get an ice cream afterwards?” He asked.

“The place by the zeppelin museum?” Falco nodded in response, and Gabi smiled widely. “Alright, then. But it’s my treat this time.”

“Let me buy the comic books this time, at least,” he said, pulling out a book with a few giants on the cover. “This looks good, doesn’t it?”

Gabi frowned at the sight of the naked giants. “I hate historical fiction.”

“It’s not like titans were real, Gabi,” Falco said, running through the pages. “This is mostly political-oriented. See? They even consulted a historian from Paradis to write it.”

“Hey, I know her!” Gabi said excitedly, looking at the picture of the main consultant from the work. “She’s the head of the anthropology museum at the island. She’s Reiner’s friend.”

“Is she?” Falco said, his eyes wide as he stared at the picture of Mikasa, who wore a fancy pantsuit and had her hair up in a ponytail. Unlike at the parties, her make up in this was formal, no bright pink lipstick, no dark eyeshadow. “She’s really pretty, isn’t she?”

“Falco!” Gabi said, then took a second look at the picture. “You’re right, she’s really pretty. Her husband is a lucky guy. He always says it himself.”

“Oh, she’s married?”

“Yeah, she married a friend of hers, I think. It was a late spring wedding, so I didn’t get to go. They’ve got a baby on the way and everything,” Gabi said, scrunching up her nose. “He’s friends with Reiner too, but I can’t recall the guy’s name.”

“Gabi, you see those people every summer,” Falco said, his kind face showing a slight hint of repeoach. “You should at least learn their names.”

“Reiner has way too many friends for me to remember,” Gabi replied, not wanting to admit that she did need to be a little more polite to them. “I do remember he had a bit of a horse face.”

“A horse face?” Falco said, horrified. “This woman here married a guy with a horse face?”

Gabi smiled amusedly. “She seemed quite smitten by him. Every time I go and they’re there, they’re always all lovey dovey. Kissing, hugging, they can’t keep their hands off each other,” she said, tilting her head to the side with a flirty smile. “Besides, it was just a nickname. The man is handsome, and taller than most guys, too.”

“Gabi, don’t talk so kindly about married men.” Falco said, closing the magazine with his cheeks flushed. Although his expression caused her own smile to grow wider.

“Are you jealous?” She teased, then placed a fleeting peck on his lips. “You’re way more handsome than horse face. And, you still have more years to grow. I’m sure that you’ll be taller than him by when we get married.”

“Gabi!” Falco said, flushing harder.

[joon-ipersgirl]

"dance with me" - jhs twoshot

genre: strangers to lovers!au, fluff, tiny bit of angst

pairing: hobi x reader (f)

summary: this is the first part of hobi’s birthday twoshot where he meets a girl on a night out on the town but loses her (a better summary will come later)

word count: 1.8k

warnings: some cursing, mentions of alcohol, not a happy ending rn

a/n: whew it's been a minute. as per, school and work are kicking my ass but i wanted to write something for hobi's birthday. i actually finished this first half on time but was stuck on the second half before i decided i should make this into a twoshot. i'm going to finish it though, hopefully soon. i’ll edit everything later. either way, enjoy :)

full masterlist // part two

“Guys, I really shouldn’t,” Hoseok laments.

“Why not?” Jimin whines from his sprawled out position on Hoseok’s aging leather sofa. “It’s been weeks since you’ve come out with us.”

Hoseok shrugs. “I’ve just been… busy,” he finishes lamely.

“Doing what?” Jungkook challenges from the kitchen, his voice barely carrying over the low hum of the open refrigerator.

“Okay, I guess I haven’t been doing too much. I just haven’t been in the mood? Life is just a lot right now,” Hoseok says as he picks at the fraying carpet on the floor. He really should get a new one.

“So, let us help you feel better!” Jimin rolls off the sofa, narrowly missing Hoseok’s head with his legs and keeping his leather pants intact. “A night out dancing with your best friends. Maybe a few drinks. You don’t even have to bring anyone home if you don’t want to.”

Hoseok is still iffy on Jimin’s proposal. Usually, he’d be the one encouraging his friends to enjoy a night out on the town but starting his new job at the architectural firm downtown a few weeks ago had really taken its toll. He knew that he’d have a lot to learn when he started but he didn’t think it’d be this much, the new programming and drawing systems much more sophisticated than what he’d remembered during his undergraduate matriculation. Hoseok spent much of his free time practicing his skills, exhausting himself late into the night. All he wanted to do was rest but it was proving to be challenging after his friends showed up on his doorstep tonight, demanding he join them.

“I don’t know, Jimin.”

“You don’t have to know anything. Look, if you aren’t having a good time by midnight, I’ll call you a cab home myself,” Jimin offers. “And Jungkook will buy you your first three drinks,” he tacks on after seeing Hoseok’s unwavering expression.

“Hey!” Jungkook exclaims from the entryway.

“It’s the least you could do, Jungkook. You’re literally eating him out of house and home right now,” Jimin says, pointing to the roll of kimbap Jungkook has in his hands.

“You can’t drink on an empty stomach,” the younger one counters.

“You ate an hour ago.”

“Fair enough,” Jungkook concedes. “Get dressed, Hobi. Drinks are on me,” he finishes around a mouthful of food. Jimin beams, turning to Hoseok.

Sighing, Hoseok reluctantly drags himself to his feet. “Fine. But you’re buying me drinks and dinner. Nope. I don’t want to hear it,” he says, holding up a finger. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Yes!” Jimin cheers as Hoseok heads to his room.

Twenty five minutes later, the three young men arrive at Antarri’s. Known for its strong drinks and booming bass, Antarri’s had become their regular stomping ground. It was safe to say a few other patrons recognized them in the dark; the trio’s dance reputation preceded them. On any given weekend the establishment would be flooded with young people ready to let loose their frustrations. The proximity of the city’s two major universities being just over a stone’s throw away may also help.

“Okay! Shots first!” Jimin yells over the incessant chatter. Hoseok shakes his head but follows his friend deeper into the club.

“What should we get?”

“Nothing too crazy -” Hoseok starts.

“Tequila!” Jungkook interrupts, waving his arm frantically for the bartender’s attention. Both Jimin and Hoseok blanch at the suggestion. “What? I’m buying. I should get to choose.”

Jimin shrugs. “He is buying.”

Hoseok rubs his forehead, already feeling the splitting migraine he’d have tomorrow morning. Alcohol never seemed to agree with him and he’d learned many times what pushing his limit did to him. Still, he doesn’t protest when Jungkook orders, “Your finest shots of tequila, my good sir.”

Maybe the night would pass by faster this way.

“Okay guys. What’s the game plan?” Jungkook asks around a mouthful of lime.

“Just have fun. If you’re leaving, send a text will you? I don’t want another repeat of last time,” Jimin huffs and sets his shot glass down on the counter.

“I wasn’t even gone for that long!”

“You came back the following evening missing your shirt and a shoe, Jungkook,” Jimin frowns.

“Okay but -“

“Guys,” Hoseok interjects. “Not the time.”

“Right. This is about you, Hobi. We’re going to have a great time. And you -“ Jimin points his finger at Jungkook.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll text the chat that I’m alive. Let’s go!” Jungkook says, pushing off the stool and heading into the crowd.

Hoseok shakes his head at his younger friend. He worried about his safety sometimes.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Jimin checks in.

“Yeah, yeah. Go have fun. I’ll see you in there,” Hoseok responds. Nodding, Jimin pats him on the arm before setting off.

“Remember, I’ll call you a cab if you aren’t having fun,” he calls over his shoulder and then disappears.

Moving over to a less crowded part of the bar, Hoseok leans against the wall. Already his shirt is starting to stick to his skin. The music blares at an obscene level he feels in his bones and he welcomes the feeling.

Though an architect by trade, Hoseok knew his way around a dance floor. He wasn’t captain of the university’s dance team for no reason. Music was a language Hoseok translated with his body, each syllable corresponding to a particular movement as he listened to each rhythm and rhyme. Closing his eyes, he lets it speak it to him.

It doesn’t take long for him to get lost in the feeling. Limbs moving freely, Hoseok glides across the floor easily. He’s not concerned with the curious onlookers as he grooves to one of Billboard’s latest bangers. A small crowd has started to form around him but Hoseok ignores them as he spins through a move. Then, he sees you.

His body sputters through the movement until he slows to a gentle rock, eyes trying to focus on you through the pockets between people’s heads. You aren’t looking at him. Too engrossed in your own movement as you vibe with the music. Hoseok almost feels as though he’s watching himself dance. Intrigued, he moves closer.

He’s pretty sure he’s never seen you here before. Granted he doesn’t remember every face he sees but Hoseok is positive he would remember you because of the way you move. Blinking, he feels like he’s in a trance as he watches you turn, your hips swaying in time with the beat. Hoseok realizes he’s not the only one watching you. A few other guys have gathered but you ignore their presence, favoring to dance alone. Hoseok chews his lip. Did he even have a chance?

The music changes and Hoseok watches you change your movement to match the tempo seamlessly. He smiles. He would do exactly the same. Smooth RnB filters out over the sound system and Hoseok calms his beating heart, finding his own rhythm again as he slips back into his translation. When he turns, he makes eye contact with you, a small smile on your lips as you regard him. He’s pretty sure it’s the alcohol that makes him bold enough to take a step towards you.

Though you don’t move closer, your eyes don’t leave Hoseok’s. A silent exchange happens between you as you continue dancing and Hoseok matches your movements while maintaining his distance. Hoseok nearly holds his breath as you tentatively step closer. If he were to reach out, he’d surely be able to touch you. He doesn’t though. The two of you continue to dance in front of one another, though not with each other as the song changes.

When you turn - back towards him and continue dancing - Hoseok isn’t too sure of what to do. He doesn’t want to impose and ruin your night but he sure as hell would love to dance with you. He takes another tentative step forward, the space between you what chaperones at prom would call encroaching on dangerous territory. Still, he doesn’t touch you though he’s sure you can feel his breath dance across your skin.

It’s you who makes the final move.

He feels your fingertips brush against the outside of his thigh until your fingers wrap around his and place them on your hip. Jeans slung low on your waist, Hoseok’s thumb rests against your bare skin. He lets his other hand settle on the outside of your thigh, his touch light so not to scare you.

Chest against your back, Hoseok matches his hips with yours, the swell of your ass pressed tightly to his crotch. When you curl your arm around the back of his neck, fingers splayed in the hairs at his nape, Hoseok squeezes you in reflex. The heat of Antarri’s only grows worse as you continue to dance and another small crowd gathers to watch you.

Hoseok has never felt so at ease dancing with another human being. He feels like you’ve been partners since you were three and took classical ballroom together for eighteen years. You read his movements and he reads yours as you trade the role of leader and follower back and forth. In all honesty, Hoseok doesn’t want the night to end, especially when you hit a particularly dangerous move - bending at the waist with your hands on your knees, the push back firm as his hand ghosts your back. He has to stifle a groan at the sight, more than a few ungentlemanly thoughts surfacing in response.

Spinning you around, Hoseok gazes down at you as he slots one of his legs between yours. A gentle smile crosses your face and you rest your hands loosely around his neck. Hoseok gently brushes your damp hair from your forehead. You don’t look away as his hand comes to rest under your jaw. He watches your tongue swipe against your bottom lip as he wraps his arm around -

“Y/N!”

The moment is broken at the scream of what Hoseok assumes is your name.

“Y/N, come on! We have to go! Code Blue!” Hoseok loosens his hold on you as you step away. Before either of you can utter a word, your friend is pulling you through the crowd and away from him. Over the din of the music, he faintly hears you call a “Sorry!” as you disappear.

Stunned, Hoseok stands in the middle of the crowd as your figure slowly becomes lost in the sea of swaying bodies. He feels like he’s just stepped out of a sauna, the trance you placed him in lifting as people start to fill in the space around him now that the show is over. Hoseok rubs his face in frustration. How could he have let you leave like that? How was he supposed to find you?

“Hobi! Hey Hobi!” Hoseok turns at the sound of his name to see Jimin elbowing his way through the crowd. “Hey, are you okay?”

Sighing, Hoseok nods.

“Okay,” Jimin says wearily. “Do you want to leave?”

“No, it’s okay. Jungkook still owes me two more shots. I gotta collect.”

Jimin grins. “That’s the spirit! Come on, let’s go.”

Tossing one last longing look to what was supposed to be a promising night, Hoseok follows his friend to the bar to forget what could have happened.

full masterlist // part two

joon-ipersgirl, 2021

[futuristicsaladparadise]

The McConnell siblings

Heather Miyuki McConnell

Rustling Pines Elementary, Lakewood Michigan, 1999 (school picture)

Date of birth: June 17, 1990

Place of birth: Lakewood, Michigan

Parents: Michael and Kazuko (Ito) McConnell

Siblings: Jason Hideaki McConnell, Jess Akiko McConnell

Spouse: Andrei Alexandrovitch Nazarbayev

Children: Annika Jessalyn, Lilia Isabelle

Place of residence: Sun Valley, Texas

Occupation: bookkeeper, Ladd & Company (furloughed due to COVID)

Education: Lakeview Ridge High School, class of 2008; licensed bookkeeper, Fairfield Community College; attended University of Kansas for 2 years, majoring in journalism

Hobbies: writing, yoga

Q: What was your dream job when you were a kid, and how did you become interested in it?

“I wanted to be a journalist since I was about 10, I think? My parents watched a lot of news and documentaries, and I was fascinated by the reporters and narrators. I took my first journalism and yearbook courses in middle and high school. It sounded exciting – I wanted to be able to go to exotic locations and report on what I found. I suppose I wanted to be famous, too. What girl doesn’t want to be?”

Q: How did you and your significant other meet?

“I met Andrei in one of our required freshman courses at U of K, I can’t remember which. He was kind of nerdy-but-sweet looking, with crazy long eyelashes behind his glasses. I thought he would be shy, but he asked me out while we were working on our first group project. We’ve been inseparable ever since!”

Q: Why didn’t you finish college?

“I didn’t finish college because life got in the way. Pregnancy, marriage…suddenly we had 2 babies and just couldn’t keep up!”

Q: Do you regret your choice?

“My family is my life. I would rather have them over a degree any day, no matter how hard it is. Even though it’s been hard not to have the income, I have been glad to have more time to spend with my girls.”

Q: What is your most ardent wish?

“I wish my parents were closer. Andrei’s parents live next door and it’s wonderful, but I’d like to see my parents and brother and sister more often. I’m going to be an auntie and I’m not sure when I’ll get to meet my niece or nephew, and I’m afraid my sister’s graduation may have to be online. I really want to be there for those things.”

Jason Hideaki McConnell

 Rustling Pines Elementary, Lakewood Michigan, 2002 (school picture)

Date of birth: October 3, 1993

Place of birth: Lakewood, Michigan

Parents: Mike and Kazuko (Ito) McConnell

Siblings: Heather Miyuki Nazarbayev, Jess Akiko McConnell

Spouse: Laura Katherine Barber

Children: unknown, due May 2021

Place of residence: Minneapolis, Minnesota

Occupation: architect, Goliath Construction (furloughed due to COVID)

Education: Lakeview Ridge High School, class of 2010; Bachelor’s degree in graphic design, University of Utah; Master’s degree in architecture, Washington State University

Hobbies: skiing, snowboarding, hockey, soccer, hiking

“I like art, and geometry, and useful things. Architecture pays better than being a PE coach or shop teacher somewhere, and most of the time we can go on vacation and do all the sports Laura and I love.”

“Winter break, 2011. I was in Utah, snowboarding at Snowbird, and this other snowboarder was showboating, so I started showing off and, like the idiots we were, kept trying to one-up each other. I ended up crashing, breaking my ankle AND dislocating my shoulder. I didn’t even know she was the guy I had been competing with until the next day, when we ran into each other on the bus back to campus and she offered to buy me drinks as a way of apologizing. She’s a knockout, quite literally, and 5’11” to boot. Best worst date ever.”

“I’ve got it pretty good. I don’t know what I’d wish for. Olympic gold in snowboarding. Yeah.”

Jess Akiko McConnell

Place of birth: Lakewood, Michigan

Parents: Mike and Kazuko (Ito) McConnell

Siblings: Heather Miyuki Nazarbayev, Jason Hideaki McConnell

Spouse: engaged, Henry David Campbell

Children: none

Place of residence: Lakewood, Michigan

Occupation: student, pursuing doctorate in marine ecology, University of California (on hiatus due to COVID)

Education: Lakeview Ridge High School, class of 2014; Bachelor’s and master’s degrees in marine biology, University of Texas at Galveston

Hobbies: soccer, snowboarding, wildlife rescue volunteer

“My parents took me to Belize with them when I was ten, and although we were there for an archaeological dig, I ended up taking care of this orphaned baby parrot. That got me interested in animals, and tropical wildlife, and then ocean life, and now here I am.”

“He was my TA while I was an undergrad. We didn’t start dating until the following year, when he wasn’t anymore, but I’m pretty sure everybody knew. We flirted kind of a lot.”

“I wish I could explain…or just have people understand and stop the damage we are doing to the world. Millions of tons of garbage, plastics, in the ocean, corporations spewing out carbon and chemicals… It doesn’t just affect others. It’s all of us. It’s you. It’s me. It’s the animals, the marine life, it’s everything. We’re driving ourselves to extinction.”

I tried to make Heather’s and Jason’s photos accurate to the late 90s. We had laser backgrounds for our school pictures back then, and Heather’s bangs are similar to what girls would have worn. Since they’re pictured as elementary schoolers, I dressed them how a parent might have, instead of in the grunge or baggy styles. 

Some parts of the photos are edited, and the one of Jess is not mine.

Also, he’s not a McConnell, but Heather’s husband (and Annika and Lily’s dad), so I did one for Andrei, too.

Andrei Alexandrovitch Nazarbayev

Houston Texas, 1998

Date of birth: April 26, 1990

Place of birth: Moscow, Russia

Parents: Alexander Mikhailovitch Nazarbayev and Anna Sergeievna (Semyonova) Nazarbayeva

Siblings: none

Spouse: Heather Miyuki McConnell

Children: Annika Jessalyn, Lilia Isabelle

Place of residence: Sun Valley, Texas

Occupation: linesman, Satterfield Energy

Education: West Caddo High School, class of 2008; attended University of Kansas for 2 years, majoring in engineering and piano performance

Hobbies: drawing, piano, biking

“Ever since I can remember, I wanted to an engineer. And a famous pianist. I never could make up my mind. I was actually supposed to be majoring in piano because I had a piano scholarship, but I ended up being more interested in engineering. There’s this beauty in mathematics, and it’s hard to explain to most people, because they think math is hard. It’s beautiful, and orderly.”

“I met Heather in our mandatory US history class. She sat at the front, and I sat at the back. When she walked in, she had this glow, you know? I knew she was the one but couldn’t figure out how to approach her until we were put together for a group project. I knew it was then or never, so I asked her out and she said yes.”

“I never got my degree because I met the girl of my dreams, and when I had to choose between her and our family, or school, I chose her. How could I regret that?”

“It would have been nice to finish, and we’ve talked about my going back to school once this whole pandemic is past, now that our girls are able to take care of themselves a bit. My parents have even offered to pay, but I’m working so much overtime right now to cover for coworkers out due to COVID, I just don’t have the time.”

“I wish…hmm. I wish I was a millionaire and could travel the world with my family. Maybe we could buy a boat and sail around the world for a few years. I would definitely take my parents, wife, and daughters to Russia…Moscow, Omsk, St. Petersburg…and show them where I was born and where their grandparents grew up. Family is important.”

[fleurlibelle]

Peaches & Cream 🎧 & The Next Episode🎧

Meet Luca Azuka Asinobi @geeky-simz for ma guurl. ❤️ Hope you love our new boi! 

“I manifest reality”

Luca is moving from Germany with his parents to Del Sol. His father is a well-known Architect and has a new job in the city. After high-school, Luca wants to major in Art and Architecture at a renowned college. 

He is aware that growing up in a picture-perfect loving home with money is not something you take for granted. 

His roots are from Germany and Nigeria. Sure he is a smart-ass, witty and a fun dude. At first, most will think he's cocky and arrogant but he is just confident with a golden heart beneath. He values the worth of money and knows how to appreciate it. On top he is very well-educated, knows tons of stuff about pretty much every genre. Luca is a true clever smart-ass and walking encyclopedia! Highly intelligent and usually the best in his class or you can say your "Mister Knows it All."

Literally, a very cool dude, and everyone wants to be his friend. That's what happens once they get to know him but at first, he comes off a bit arrogant, cocky or sassy whatever you want to call it? He owns it. Actually, he is very mature for his age.

Luca doesn’t play games, nor has he interest in such things. In his eyes it's childish but if someone believes they would be able to use him? Be aware you better step up the game. 

Because once he starts to play, he will outplay you and you’re gonna lose. Fact is, Luca is less a talker but a great observer and someone who prefers to be the lead. 

He is amazing at showcasing surface traits, yet he still runs deep because he is emotionally intelligent.

I do adore hiiiim! He is so fucklicious and left me several times breathless❤️❤️❤️ Babe is so fly...🥺

Additional Must-Know Thingies are under cut!

BASICS

Age: 18 | Gemini Height: 6.1 Nationality: German/Nigerian Orientation: bisexual

Parents: Mother: “Lina Asinobi” German | Father: “Chris Okoro Asinobi” Nigerian Raised Hometown: Windenburg Profession: High School

PERSONALITY

Traits: Self-confident, Bro, Playful Dreams: To become a creative successful Architect  Communication: Comes across as cocky, smart-ass and arrogant at first. Once you crack his nutshell everyone wants to be friends with him. Strength: Smart, Passionate, Quick-Witted, Generous, Energetic and Dynamic. A  chameleon. Doesn’t stuck in the past. He’s proud of his sexuality. Loves the love and celebrates it, but once he has chosen his partner, he is incredibly loyal and steady. Never bored. He can keep his own company. Communication Expert. Unstoppable when he is creative, he can move, motivate and inspire people. You can’t fool or play with him, he will see through your motives. Weakness: Due to his deep emotional side he needs someone who cares and feeds him emotionally. He can stir up gossip just to keep things spicy. Fashion-Taste: Mostly casual laid back and but he also loves to dress up elegant and classy, still modern tho!

LOVES

Books

Basketball and Gym

Party

Art (Painting is one of his main passions next to Basketball)

A good conversation about  pretty much anything

Good Humor is sexy to him

adores 90′s R’n’B and Old School Hip Hop like 2PAC, Wutang Clan, Dr. Dre, Eazy-E, Run DMC, etc.

Salad & Water

green and blue are his favorite colors.

Sex & Life

DISLIKES

Betrayal

Small-minded People

Intolerance, whatsoever

Alcohol and Drugs

Some extra facts about his name and roots: His mom is German and Luca is a very popular name in the German-speaking area. The root of Luca is the Latin word “LUX”, meaning light. Though some believe the name comes from the Greek Loukas, meaning "man who comes from Lucania." Either way, his mum views him as her Light of life. So, Luca rocks for sure! 

His father is originally from Nigeria and he belongs to the tribe of “Igbo”. Hence why his name has following meaning: 

Last Name: Asinobi =  A + si + na + obi = From the heart Luca’s Middle Name: Azuka | azu = Confidence/ Well experienced/ Confidence built from past experiences Chris’s Middle Name:  Okoro = O + Koro = Strong man

Hope you love him BBY!😊

Private Download

[thecassadilla]

Written in the Stars - Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,328/AO3

Pairing: Kristanna

Love During Lockdown Series: Serendipity (Prologue) 

Summary: Figuring out how to go on an in-person date during a time of social distancing would be a challenge for anyone. Luckily, it comes easy to Anna and Kristoff, who find a creative way to spend some time with each other amidst a pandemic.

Author’s Note: Well, I’m back again. If you remember, a few weeks back, I wrote a one-shot about Anna and Kristoff meeting during the pandemic because their deliveries got sent to each other’s addresses by mistake. I added that it had the possibility of being expanded, and ta-da! I’ve linked that fic above. I highly recommend reading that fic before this one, but you do you. I can’t believe I followed through, for the first time ever. This was interesting to write because, well, I had to imagine what an appropriate, in-person date would be like right now. This is going to be three or so chapters, but again, has the possibility of being expanded upon! I hope you enjoy it!

In the days immediately following their initial conversation, Anna found herself carrying her phone everywhere with her. She didn’t want to miss out on a single text from Kristoff. They hadn’t had much contact in the week since their chat - from what she had gathered about him, he definitely seemed to be on the shyer side; despite this, and the pandemic that was practically prohibiting them from meeting in person, she was hopeful that everything would work out and they would have a real opportunity to talk. There was just something about him and their interaction that was different, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. 

Suffice to say, when he called her out of the blue on Saturday afternoon, just over a week since they’d met for the first time, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

“Hello?” She answered, breathlessly.

“Hey,” he responded, and she could tell from the tone of his voice that he was smiling. “How are you?”

“I’m great, how are you?”

“I’m doing alright, thanks for asking. Uh, so I know this is going to sound kind of weird, but I haven’t started my car in almost a month and I’m kind of worried that the battery is going to die,” he explained. “I was wondering if you wanted to go for a car ride in a little while? I know it’s short notice and it would be bad social distancing, but -”

“Absolutely,” she cut him off, sounding a little too eager. “I can wear a mask if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No - I mean, you can bring it. I’m going to bring one, too, but you said you haven’t left your apartment in a while, right?”

“I haven’t left in almost two months,” she answered.

“Same here, so I think it would be safe? As long as we’re in the car, and you’re okay with it?”

“I’m totally fine with that,” she said, again fearing that she was going to come off as desperate.

“And...if you want, we can get take-out or stop by a drive-through or something? I know it’s kind of inappropriate, and ideally we’d be going to a sit-down restaurant, but...you know.”

“That would be wonderful,” she assured him. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was worried about not impressing her, because it sure sounded like he was asking her on a first date. The situation they were in was certainly not his fault, though, and the fact that he was still trying regardless of that made her weak in the knees. “What time were you thinking?”

“Um, an hour or so? Or we can meet up later if that’s too soon?”

“No, that’s perfect. I’m dying to get out of this apartment and see a person other than my sister,” she giggled.

“Oh!” He said, sounding a little surprised. “Me too, except with my roommate.”

“I can’t wait,” she said, smiling. “Where should we meet?”

“By the entrance to the building?”

“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll see you in an hour!”

“See you then,” he said, before hanging up the phone.

She was so excited that she wanted to scream. She immediately jumped off the bed and began to tear her room to shreds - she wanted to wear something that was cute but appropriate. She also didn’t want to have to explain why she was wearing a fancy dress to Elsa. After way too much time deliberating, she finally settled on a light blue romper with spaghetti straps and a pair of sandals. She didn't have enough time for a full face of makeup, so she settled on mascara and lipstick, hoping that he wouldn’t notice. Her hair hung down in loose waves cascading down her back, and she mentally applauded herself for taking a shower that morning. When the hour was about to draw to a close, she placed the mask over her face, grabbed her purse and cell phone, and excitedly bounded out of her bedroom.

She paused in front of Elsa’s door, knocking a few times with no answer. She peeked inside, and was thrilled to see that her sister was taking a nap and could not protest her departure. She decided that a text message would be appropriate, and gently closed the door to her room before practically skipping out of the apartment. As soon as she opened the door, a blast of hot air hit her in the face and she was immensely grateful that they were going to be sitting in an air conditioned car instead of going on a walk. Before she walked downstairs, she sent the text message to Elsa and shoved her phone into her purse - if she could help it, she wanted to keep it there the entire time they were together.

When she finally reached the entrance to their building, she could hardly contain her excitement. So much so that when Kristoff emerged from inside, she found herself approaching him with her arms wide open before she realized what she was doing.

“Oops, sorry,” she said, lowering her arms. “I always hug people after when I haven’t seen them for a while, but I guess we don’t live in that world anymore. Hi, by the way.”

Although she couldn’t see his mouth, she could tell from his eyes that he was smiling. She couldn’t help but notice how good he looked; he was dressed casually like her, wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt, but it suited him so well that she nearly found herself drooling. 

“Hi,” he said back, his eyes still sparkling. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been doing as well as I can,” she answered. “I feel like I’m starting to lose my mind, though.”

“I feel the same way,” he chuckled, slowly starting to walk toward the parking lot. “I’m glad to be getting out for a little while. You look great, though; quarantine must be treating you well.”

“Thank you!” She exclaimed, walking alongside him. “You look great, too. And I feel the same way; my sister is starting to drive me up a wall.”

“It’s just you and her up there?”

“So it’s a little complicated, actually. She doesn’t actually live here,” she explained. “I had two roommates.”

“What happened with that?”

“One of them broke his lease, because his internship ended abruptly due to the pandemic, so he had to go back to live with his parents. And my other roommate has been quarantining with her boyfriend, but she took almost all of her stuff with her and she’s not answering my messages, so I actually don’t know if she’s coming back.”

“I don’t mean to cut you off, but this is me,” he said, motioning to a grey SUV. He unlocked it, and they each went to their respective sides. It was blazingly hot inside, as expected, and he put his keys in the ignition. “I’m honestly relieved that it started and I’m really sorry that it’s so hot in here, but it should cool off in a few minutes. You were saying?”

She pulled off her mask and he followed shortly after. “Yeah, so, my sister came to visit, like, a week before everything shut down and then she just refused to leave. It worked out since my other roommate moved out, but she’s driving me crazy.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking over at her. 

She slid the seatbelt over her shoulder and buckled it in. Cool air started seeping out of the vents, offering relief from the suffocating heat. “It’s not the worst thing in the world, but her anxiety is basically out of control. She’s a touch agoraphobic in general, and this is just making it worse.”

“That has to be really rough,” he responded, shifting the car into drive and slowly pulling out of the spot. “I mean, my roommate just sits around and plays video games all day, so I kind of lucked out in that regard.”

“I would do literally anything for her, but I definitely miss having a little freedom; she doesn’t even want me to go on walks, or anything,” she said, shaking her head. “Luckily, she hates Florida, so I think she’ll try to go home as soon as it’s safe.”

“Are you from Florida?”

She glanced out the window, admiring the clear blue sky and the palm trees. She had almost forgotten what the outside world looked like. “No, I’m actually from upstate New York.”

“Get out of here, so am I,” he said, excitedly. “What part are you from?”

Her face lit up. “Arendelle, it’s a small town near Saratoga Springs.”

“I grew up, like, half an hour from there. Near Broadalbin, in Fulton County.”

“No way! It’s such a small world,” she laughed. “What brought you here?”

“I’ve lived in Florida for a few years now,” he explained, focusing on the road. “I came down here for school. I’m becoming an architect, and I needed an internship, and that led me to this part of the state a couple of months ago. Unfortunately, it kind of got put on hold due to the pandemic.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she frowned. “I don’t know much about architecture, but it seems really cool.”

“It is,” he grinned. “But it’s a lot to talk about and I don’t want to bore you. What about you?”

“I doubt you would bore me, but to answer your question, I needed a change. I came out here for school, too, and loved it so much that I dreaded going home during breaks. So I got a job and found an apartment, and now I live here.”

“What did you major in?”

“I’m still working on my Bachelor’s, but elementary education. One semester to go.”

“You must love kids,” he assumed.

She nodded. “I do, I really do. I had a lot of amazing teachers, and I hope that one day I can leave an impact on someone in the same way my teachers left one on me.”

“Wow, that’s really thoughtful of you.”

“Thank you,” she blushed. “I’m really looking forward to having my own classroom, someday.”

He found himself smiling at the sincerity of her response, but before he could say anything, she had already moved onto the next topic.

“What do you do for work?”

“Well, the internship was my job, for the time being. I quit my job as a waiter for the internship, so I’m currently unemployed.”

She nodded fervently. “Same here - I had a part-time front desk job, and the office had to close, so I got laid off.”

“This whole situation is just awful,” he responded, shaking his head. “To get back onto a happier subject - what do you love most about living here?”

“The weather,” she cooed. “I love the warmth and the sunshine. No snow or shoveling to worry about in this state.”

“That’s the one thing that I dislike about living here,” he remarked. “I kind of miss having four seasons. Oh, and I never want to be referred to as ‘Florida Man.’”

She burst out laughing, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. “Oh my god, stop.”

“I’m serious! There are so many negative connotations,” he laughed.

“Yeah, but you’d have to do something dumb, like, stick your foot in a gator’s mouth to earn that title.”

“I don’t know, I feel like they’re handing it out willy nilly these days; any man who lives in Florida is officially a Florida Man,” he smiled, shaking his head. “In all seriousness, though, I do hope to move back to New York, someday.”

“I think I do, too. The distance has helped my sister and I grow as individuals, but I’d like to live closer to her. Not anytime soon, though.”

“I get that,” he nodded. 

“So, what’ve you been doing to pass the time?”

He sighed. “I’ve been doing school stuff, mostly, but now that the semester is over, I’ve been watching stuff on Netflix.”

“Ooh, what have you been watching?” She asked, turning her body so she was facing him.

“Whatever gets recommended to me, honestly. I watched Tiger King -”

“Oh my god, me too! What a train wreck!” She exclaimed, before bringing both of her hands up to cover her mouth. “I��m so sorry, I totally cut you off just then.”

“It’s fine,” he said, glancing over at her. “I kept expecting it to get better, but it just kept getting worse and worse. Other than that, I’ve been watching a mixed bag of stuff. The Office, Parks and Rec, et cetera.”

“Literally, same,” she laughed. “I’ve been watching a lot of YouTube, too, because it’s interesting to see what other people are doing during quarantine.”

“Good point,” he agreed. “I haven’t even thought about how other people have been coping.”

“Almost everyone I watch has been doing the same stuff I see everyone on social media doing. Baking bread, renovating their houses, watching television. I appreciate people who are putting out unique content.”

“I’ll have to get on YouTube one of these days,” he stated. “What are you looking forward to most when all of this is over?”

“Gosh, I don’t even know,” she gushed. “Everything - I want to eat in a restaurant, again. And go back to Disney World, and to the beach.”

“You know, I’ve never been to Disney World.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” he smirked.

“No way! We’ll have to go when it opens!” She declared, and then quickly backtracked a step, worrying that she was too forward. “Only if you want to, though.”

“I’m not opposed to going,” he chuckled. “It was just never high enough on my priorities list. I was actually supposed to go back in March, but then they closed. I’d love to go with you when they reopen.”

“Stop, I’m literally so excited now,” she said, unable to control her smile. “I’m not in a crazy rush to run there as soon as they reopen, but I literally cannot wait now.”

His lips curved upwards as well. “Me too.”

“How about you? What are you looking forward to?”

“Well, aside from going to Disney World, probably just things going back to normal. I miss simple things like going to the grocery store.”

“Do you like cooking?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, I do. That’s another thing that I’ve been doing - practicing my cooking skills. You?”

“God, no. I love eating but I’m an awful cook,” she laughed. “I know how to make some really basic stuff, but I have a knack for burning everything. I’d say that I’m a better baker, but I don't think boxed mixes count.”

“At least you try. I’m pretty sure my roommate would live on microwaveable food and take-out if I didn’t live with him.”

She playfully rolled her eyes. “My sister is no better, but we get by.”

“I’ll have to send some food up to you sometime; can’t have you two starving,” he winked.

“Stop, you’re too sweet,” she gushed. “I would love that, though. My sister on the other hand…”

He glanced over at her. “I notice that you talk about her a lot. Is it just the two of you?”

She paused for a moment before answering. “Yeah, it’s just me and her. Our parents passed away a few years ago, and we don’t have any other family.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry to hear that,” he frowned. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, it’s okay; I’m actually kind of glad you asked,” she said quietly, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers. “My sister and I don’t talk about them, really.”

He raised his eyebrows. “How come? If you don’t mind me asking.”

She shook her head. “Well, my sister had a lot of anxiety issues as a kid, and she became very closed off. They were concerned, but they didn’t really do anything to address it and we both suffered as a result. They got into the accident when I was fifteen, and she was eighteen so she became my guardian, but it was like I was living with a stranger at first. We got better, eventually, but she was a little overbearing and I needed my own space and that was when I moved down here for school. We just don’t bring them up, now. They weren’t bad people or anything, it’s just hard to talk about.”

He nodded along with her as she spoke, acknowledging what she was saying. “I get that. I’m really sorry that that happened, but I have to say - you’re incredibly brave.”

“Thank you,” she looked up at him and gave him a sad smile. “What about your family?”

“I was a foster kid who got bounced around, so I don’t really have a family. I’m still in touch with the family I was with the longest, but it took two other families to get to them.”

She gasped. “I’m sorry, that must’ve been so hard.”

“Well, a lot of good came out of it. It made me want to work harder, for one, but it also made me realize what type of person I want to be and what type of life I want to live.”

“And what is that, exactly?”

“Well, I want to have a family of my own someday. I just...want to be present for the people in my life.”

“That’s really amazing. You’re also incredibly brave,” she remarked, repeating what he’d just said to her.

“I guess we have a lot in common, then.”

She nodded, suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch his arm. She hesitated, though. “You can say that again. But it’s a good thing, I think. Not to wax poetic, but we wouldn’t be here right now if all of those horrible things didn’t happen to us.”

“Very true,” he agreed. He pulled into a gas station, stopping the car at one of the pumps and turning off the engine. “Sorry, I just want to fill up my tank so we don’t break down somewhere.”

“No need to apologize,” she insisted, as he climbed out of the car and started fiddling with the pump. She was completely overwhelmed, but in the best way possible. This was easily the best date she’d ever been on, and she was hopeful that he felt the same way and that there would be many more dates in the future. Though it was a bit of an annoyance at the time, she was eternally grateful for the delivery drivers who’d messed up their deliveries. 

“Alright, we’re good,” he announced, as he climbed back in and started the ignition again. 

“Do you want money for gas?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he insisted. “Where to next?”

She shrugged. “You’re the driver.”

“Are you hungry? We could stop somewhere and eat,” he offered. 

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“What’re you in the mood for? I know there aren’t too many practical options for eating in a car.”

“We could stop at that McDonald’s that was just down the street.”

“Alright,” he said, pulling away from the gas station. “I have nothing against McDonald’s, but if the circumstances were different, I would’ve preferred to take you somewhere much nicer.”

“I know,” she smiled. “But I’m not, like, disappointed or anything. I’m honestly having a great time.”

“Me too,” he responded softly. “I’ve really been enjoying talking to you.”

“I’m really glad that we’re on the same page. Also, I haven’t had McDonald’s in at least a year, so I’m super excited about that.”

“Is that why you suggested it?”

“Maybe,” she smirked. “But also because it’s close by and we don’t have to get out of the car.”

“If that's what you want, then I’m happy to take you there, but don’t worry about the distance. I don’t mind going somewhere else if -”

She interjected before he could finish his thought. “Nope, McDonald’s is great.”

“Alright,” he laughed. “Then to McDonald’s we go.”

[lily-blue]

CODE Z3RO | CODE 14

characters: BTS & Red Velvet genre: thriller, futuristic au warning: death summary: The twelve most ambitious and promising university students are welcomed in Choego, the world’s first entirely artificial intelligence-driven city, to compete for five job contracts that could change their life. But what if something goes wrong? What if they get trapped? What if the city suddenly turns against them? Can they find a way out before the countdown reaches zero? words: 4,7K tagged: @philosopher-of-fandoms​

➼ Chapter Index

The building where the main computer was located looked like a maze, designed with care by a few of the most creative architects in Korea although its structure had minor similarities with the dorm’s where they had stayed for the night before therefore Kang Seulgi had a guess where the exit could have been. So she led her remained teammates towards the stairway with confidence, trying not to think too much about the damaged bodies of their late allies that they had passed by when they had left the computer room. The remains of their burnt flesh’s strong stink mixed with the metallic smell of their blood tugged her stomach but she wasn’t sure she could have wasted their precious time in the nearest restroom, spitting bile into one of the toilets while she was holding onto the cold porcelain. Just like the others, she preferred to go straight to the bridge on the Eastern side of the island, leaving Choego once and for all as fast as they could before something could have gone wrong and the security system of this crazy city would have killed them an inch from the way out. She couldn’t let that happen, she wasn’t able to bear more guilt.

So she tried to keep her thoughts at bay and focus on the current task at hand: getting out of the building safe and sound before history repeated itself and they ended up in a cage with no air or worse, with some poisonous gas filling their lungs without them noticing. Some could have said that she was paranoid but she couldn’t help her own mind. Once the first dose of hope had rushed through her, there was nothing left but memories, vivid pictures of Wendy’s lifeless body on the restaurant’s floor, the silent cry of Joohyun that no one had paid attention to and Namjoon laying on the ground in pieces. Gosh, she truly needed to stop reminiscing or else she could have gone crazy in any minute.

Seulgi’s breath hitched when Yoongi squeezed her wrist, his thumb caressing her scarred skin before he slid his fingers lower and took her hand without taking his eyes off the metal door at the end of the corridor. He made the whole situation so natural that instead of pushing her buttons in a wrong way, the light touch actually soothed the girl’s jittery nerves. And Seulgi was honestly grateful for the boy, for all his efforts and everything he had done for the team from the moment when all hell had broken loose.

When they had reached the door however, she pulled away because her palm felt sweaty and it made her feel a tad bit embarrassed but her flustered emotions didn’t hold her back from remaining close, their shoulders occasionally brushing to each other while they walked down the stairs. Their steps echoed in the silence hence Seulgi cleared her throat and mustered up her courage to speak up, sharing her concerns with the rest of the team instead of pondering over them all by herself. She had learned her lesson by now so she knew that her silence could be just as deadly as Choego itself.

‘There’s a big chance that we won’t be able to use the bridge just yet as the electric fencing system of the 9th sector’s border can be still active but fortunately the port near it belongs to the 23th sector which means, we can get the hell out of here in a boat,’ she said and looked at the youngsters from above her shoulder when Yerim let out a surprised hum.

‘What if we can’t find any?’ she asked and her question was followed by silence as if none of them had dared to voice out the obvious until Yoongi cleared his throat and forced the words though his chapped lips dryly.

‘Then we will have to wait a bit longer to make sure that we won’t end up dead the way Jimin did when he had crossed that invisible border Hoseok talked about,’ he reminded them all of the late boy’s unrestful report on the rich guy’s tragic end before he shifted his cold gaze from the wall to the girl, earning a resigned glance in return. The IT guy was well aware that he could have been easier on her but he wasn’t the type that threw half-truths with both hands just to make people feel at ease around him. He preferred being in silence rather than lying as it took too much out of him to keep track of his lies and only spoke up in crucial moments like the current one when he was the only person who was willing to summarize their chances. If the little girl didn’t like his raw straightforwardness, she should have learned to not ask questions that were inevitably followed by bad news.

Yerim tried her best to keep her mouth shut after their team leader turned ahead, setting a somewhat comfortable pace that she could follow without panting on Jungkook’s right. She counted the stairs to make her mind busy and watched as the boy’s steps complemented hers, filling the air with loud thuds whenever she was midstep. And the girl liked it. She liked that he was there for her even after the bravado she had pulled when she had taken a step further from him in the computer room, not being ready to comfort him the same way he had comforted her with his soft words and light touches after her brother had died and ever since then. She had been a coward when the fog had dissolved to thin air because she had feared that her heart couldn’t have borne with his sadness and that tiny pinch of clear regret in his eyes. She was still a bit afraid that Taehyung had been right when he had walked up to her in the restaurant and had outright told her that it was only guilt that kept Jungkook by her side. Yerim wasn’t ready to hear the same from the boy, to lose him therefore she couldn’t ask him about the hallucination that he had seen.

They were somewhere between the second and the first floor when she heard a loud bang and soon after her forehead bumped into a firm back, earning an annoyed tsk from Seulgi whose right foot slid from one step to another.

‘Stop right there, you scums! All of you!’ someone shouted from behind and the girl needed to tilt her head to right a little to be able to see the speaker’s face although as soon as her gaze rested upon the stranger, she wished she hadn’t been so eager to know what was going on and why were her teammates suddenly so willing to do as the intruder asked them to when they wanted nothing else but to leave this building.

Yerim’s eyes widened in fear when she noticed the gun in the man’s trembling hand and for a moment, she hoped that she was still in the computer room and it was all the chemical fog’s doing although a part of her suspected that the weapon that he aimed at Yoongi was very much real as she couldn’t have possibly been afraid of something that had never crossed her mind before. And all of their previous hallucinations had been about people and situations they had been connected to by their own fears, guilt or regrets. Hence this new turn of events made no sense to the journalist whose nails dug into Seulgi’s upper arm on instinct. She had no idea from where this man had come from and why he wanted them to stop but she was ready to comply if it had meant that they could live. She promised the Architecture major that she would survive and tell the world what had happened in Choego. She couldn’t possibly die an inch from their escape. This wasn’t why her brother had saved her life back in that damned basement.

But the journalist in her didn’t care about rationality when she cleared her throat, eyes boring deep into the madman’s, hungry for the reasons behind his sudden appearance.

‘Who… who are you? And what are…’ the question slipped through her lips and the corner of the man’s mouth twitched in annoyance before he shifted the weapon to Yerim with an uncoordinated move. There was something akin to panic in his eyes although the girl couldn’t have pinpointed what had made him act like a man in despair. Hadn’t he known yet that they had already turned off the self-destructing program on the main computer which meant, they were safe after such a long time of constant danger? Or could it have been the complete opposite that made him furious? After all, the IT major had told them that the program that had been killing them one by one had been installed from the very same room where they had been a few minutes prior. The assumption that this man might have been the culprit sent a jolt down the girl’s spine and dressed her pale skin in goosebumps.

‘Shut up! One more word and I swear, little girl, that I’ll shoot a pretty hole into your pretty head without thinking twice,’ the man said when she markedly opened her mouth again and the words burned onto the tip of Yerim’s tongue due to the threat. As she looked him in the eye, she believed him when he told her that he would have killed her if she had kept rubbing him the wrong way.

So she nodded in understanding and clenched her lips, taking a step backwards on jelly legs.

‘Everything will be fine, just stay quiet,’ Jungkook whispered into her ear when her shoulder crashed into his arm and his raspy voice felt like a soothing cream for her burn marks except that it wasn’t the strong sunlight after a long afternoon on the beach that turned the girl’s skin crimson but the closeness of the engineer who still had an intensive effect on her especially when his breath fanned over her cheek. Gosh! She must have been insane to feel intimidated by Jungkook of all people when there was a man with a loaded gun in his hand barely a meter from them.

‘Are you deaf or something?’ the man asked, clearly annoyed and he aimed at Jungkook then back at Yerim as if he couldn’t decide which one of them had dared to speak up after he had set the rules.

‘Calm down, man,’ Yoongi tried to reason and the girl had to admit that his tone was indeed composed enough to ease her worries. The way he kept the eye contact with the stranger was confident but not at all forceful and for a split second it made her believe that they were safe, that they would be saved by the computer guy once again. By now she definitely owed him her life but she was fine with such debts. Their family wasn’t overly rich or powerful but her father had a stable job at a prestigious company therefore she was sure that they would have thanked him for everything he had done for her in a generous way. Oh, how much she craved her father’s loving arms and her mother’s scolding at the dining table! And how much Yerim missed Seokjin, too.

Thinking of her family wasn’t a wise idea because their precious smile and constant support turned the girl’s vision blurry and before she could have realized, a sorrowful sob escaped her throat the moment the man took a step towards Yoongi.

‘Hah! You are just like those narcissist scientists. You don’t take me seriously. But I’ll teach you not to make the same mistake ever again,’ he spat every word with big hand gestures like a maniac then pulled the trigger.

It was warm at first like the water under the shower head when it touched her still dry, naked limbs. And her body wanted to jerk away from it, a soundless scream escaping her throat as it usually did before she grabbed the tap and changed the jet’s unbearable temperature. But this time she wasn’t in the shower cabin and she couldn’t shake off the feeling that was followed by pain.

Yerim’s gaze loitered over the man’s worn figure before it settled on her tee. There was blood on its fine material near her stomach and her eyes widened at the sight.

She felt out of place when a dreadful scream reached her ears. At first, she thought that it was her own voice that she heard from under heavy layers of water but then she realized that her throat was too dry to give out such horrendous noises. It must have been Seulgi, the girl who stood right in front of her. The same girl who had been her only shield a trivial minute before. Funny but for a split second, the only thing she could think about was that she shouldn’t have taken that unsure step backwards. She had been so stupid.

Before her knees gave out, the world was nothing but white noise. But the collision between her body and the stairs didn’t hurt as much as she had previously assumed. In fact, the edges of the stairs were rather soft like a pillow or a pile of blankets.

‘Hey, look at me, Yerim! Do you hear me?’ a familiar voice called out for her and only then when her blurry gaze settled on a firm chest she realized that she wasn’t lying on the ground but was held in Jungkook’s arms. He must have caught her before she could have fallen and it made her crack a silly, lifeless smile. He smelled like smoke and medicine but she liked even that and hummed as a response to his worried question. Of course, she heard him. His voice was the only thing that filled her mind other than the irritating, buzzing sound in her ears.

Yerim’s body moved slowly even during the smallest movements but eventually she managed to look at the boy whose gaze was fixated on something ahead of them, most probably on the madman who was still very much unstable with a very much loaded gun in his hand. It made the girl wonder what she would have seen if she had turned her head a bit sideway but a part of her didn’t want to know. She just wanted to feel the warmth of Jungkook’s body and fall asleep quietly because her heavy eyelids were killing her. Maybe if she had done so, she could have woken up from this nightmare, too, and then she could have met her brother who would have scolded her for sleeping in on such an important day. Yerim could easily imagine Wendy following him inside and giving him a disapproving glance for trespassing the girls’ area and she would have apologized on Seokjin’s behalf at least a dozen times while she would have put on casual clothes, shoving her pyjama into her bag. The blurry picture made her smile.

‘Guys, she’s bleeding. I… I can’t make it stop. Guys!’ Jungkook cried out as his gaze shifted to Yerim then back to the others. There was something in his voice that bothered the younger but she couldn’t possibly call him out on not being quite himself because she didn’t know the real Jungkook in the first place. Came to think of it, they had barely exchanged a few words since they had first met and people in crisis situations were acting out of character anyway. So she might have fallen for a guy who had only existed in Choego.

But the girl didn’t mind it since they were still in the artificial city and the boy was rocking her back and forth as if he had wanted her to dream about something nice and she longed for the same. Yerim wished to dream about them meeting under different circumstances and him holding her hand even in the most unforgiving cold, shoving their intertwined fingers into his pocket. She wanted to share a milkshake with him with two straws in the delicious drink and plenty of other romantic stuff she had seen in her favourite dramas.

With another wave of pain however she needed to realize that getting shot by a maniac and finding peace in your crush’s arms weren’t as wonderful as it looked on TV which reminded her of Park Min Young in City Hunter and then the first ever role she had seen the actress in, the fearless journalist woman in Healer who had revealed the wrongdoings of the rich and powerful against all the odds.

She looked at her pale hand in her lap and lifted it to her jeans’ pocket.

‘I… you need to…’ she said weakly in a raspy voice but it was hard to form the words. Thus she kept her eyes on her slim fingers instead and started to scratch the hem of her pocket so that the boy could understand that it was too tight for her in this position to fish out the paper she had hid inside of it when they were waiting for the main computer to turn the program off. ‘I wrote an… article about this,’ she explained while her arms slowly turned numb. It felt just like when she had slept on one of them for too long without moving an inch. It felt like a piece of raw meat attached to her shoulder uselessly. It scared her to death but she tried not to show it, hiding the horror behind a smile.

But Jungkook shook his head and refused to take the handwritten report. His eyes looked like diamonds, Yerim realized faintly, although gems weren’t made of water nor his warm tears worthed millions to anyone other than the girl.

‘I’ll call the ambulance. The program is shut down, so there must be a signal in this sector already. Everything will be fine I… just don’t give up, okay? We made it, Yerim! We made it, so please,’ he begged and every single word of his felt like a dagger aimed at the girl’s heart. She really wanted to be strong for him. She wanted to wipe his salty tears off his cheeks with her thumbs but no matter how hard she gritted her teeth, she couldn’t made her arms move.

It took her a while actually, to give up on her pathetic attempts but once the realization settled in her, she bit into her lips and tried to brush aside her building up anxiety. She was going to die soon. She wondered whether her brother had been just as afraid as she felt. Could it have been that he had put on an act for her to try to ease her sorrow? Shedding bloody tears might have been as painful as bleeding out on the floor, soft flesh torn by metal. Suddenly, she felt apologetic towards Seokjin for playing the victim, acting selfish and not considering his pain beside her own wrecked heart.

‘Tell my parents that we… that we both loved them,’ she asked the boy with teary eyes and a fake smile in the corner of her mouth. She wanted to see her parents one more time, dozens of times. She didn’t want to die without saying goodbye but she knew it wasn’t up to her. There was no one who could decide when their time would come.

Jungkook shook his head again, this time with a sobbing, broken sound, but the girl was sure that he would have granted her final wish nevertheless once he accepted the same thing that a part of her refused to. That it was over for her regardless of the signal or the ambulance car that couldn’t have crossed the bridge in time. She didn’t believe in childish tales of the power of human kindness and love anymore. Choego was too wicked for such magic to exist. Funny that this city should have been the bridge to a better future.

‘I’m so sorry, Yerim. I’m so sorry… for your brother and you, too. If only I had shut up and hadn’t triggered him. If I had pulled you out of that lab,’ the boy cried out, rocking her body back and forth desperately as if it could have shaken a little sparkle back to Yerim’s lifeless limbs. She wanted to tell Jungkook that it was alright, that she wasn’t angry with him and that no matter what the chemical fog had made him see, Seokjin wouldn’t have been mad either as he had been unable to hold grudges for more than ten minutes. But when she wanted to open her mouth, all she could manage was a faint smile before she died, eyes being unfocused as a few teardrops ran down her pale skin.

Jungkook’s sobbing made Seulgi terrified. She didn’t want to die in this rotten town so close to the way out but being kept in hostage and not seeing anything but death and the pure panic in Yoongi’s eyes, she was kind of certain that she had been too hopeful too soon.

After the madman had shot Yerim and that painful cry had escaped her mouth, the IT guy had tried to use the chaos to their advantage and take the gun out of the maniac’s hand but things had gotten pretty nasty when getting in the way, the man had shaken the younger off his body and had grabbed her by the arm, using her as some kind of human-sized shield to get to the computer room in one piece, so that he could restart the self-destruction mode that had killed almost everyone in the city. Chest bouncing heavily and breathing uneven, Seulgi had never wanted to smoke so desperately before. 

The girl saw Yoongi’s fingers twitch in frustration when she mouthed a silent “don’t” to him but he attacked the man anyway, pulling her out of his arms with a sudden thug then pushing her on the ground. The all too familiar sound of a gunshot made Seulgi’s limbs froze within a heartbeat. Staring at her hands with her parted lips and blurry eyes, she didn’t dare to look at the two men lying a few centimetres from her seemingly unmoving but then, when she had finally mustered up her courage, the crazy man’s shoulder made a sudden jerk and she acted on impulse. She hit his head hard with the first object that she grabbed - the fire extinguisher from the wall - and rushed to Yoongi, pulling on his sleeve and punching his chest with such intensity as if her life had depended on it.

‘Open your eyes, please! Don’t die on me, you can’t die on me,’ she cried out while her warm tears ran down her cheeks and meeting at the bottom of her chin, they all fell on the boy’s tee in unison. The girl couldn’t have believed that this was how it all ended: with both Yerim and Yoongi dying in their arms and a crazy and desperate, middle aged man lying between their bodies, hopefully unconscious.

Seulgi could hear the engineer boy’s wrecked voice while he talked to someone on his phone but thinking about the possible help being on the way felt too absurd to be true. Why would have anyone come to rescue them now? They were all human lab rats, waiting for this city to send them after their teammates in a rather merciful way. After all, everyone else had been gone already. What was so special in her and Jungkook that they survived? She had always been in the way. If only, she had been more careful and the madman hadn’t grabbed her, then maybe Yoongi would have told them what to do next instead of crying their eyes out.

‘Could you please stop punching my chest?’ a wrecked voice broke the tragic melody of their sobbing and Seulgi snapped her head at the boy’s flustered face, eyes growing twice as big as they usually were. For a moment, she forgot to breathe while she was observing his chapped lips and half closed eyes. Just when he shifted his gaze to her fist and opened his mouth to repeat his request, did the girl realize that she was still holding onto his clothes desperately.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she mumbled under her nose after she took her hand off him and pulled a bit away to give him enough space to even his breathing. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked when he sat up and the worry sounded ridiculous in her voice when Yoongi almost lost his balance due to his trembling left arm.

Truth to tell, Yoongi didn’t seem quite alright. His warm blood had already soaked his tee around his left shoulder and the color was slowly draining from his face. Yet, when he looked the girl in the eyes, his pale lips were in a firm line and he was determined. He even smiled at her to brush aside her worrisome questions.

‘Yeah, don’t worry too much,’ he said when Seulgi opened her mouth nevertheless and she was about to point out that she had a very good reason to be concerned when the IT guy turned his head towards the stairs, watching Jungkook who was still rocking Yerim back and forth, begging her to hold on just a bit longer. ‘How is Yerim?’ he asked but the girl couldn’t find the right words. Instead, she shook her head.

There was a painful sigh escaping from Yoongi’s throat before he leaned his forehead on the Architecture major’s shoulder and closed his eyes. They both knew that someone should have treated his wound but none of them had the willpower to risk taking the stray bullet out of his flesh so they waited in silence, hoping that the ambulance car was indeed on the way.

They were in the same position when the first responder arrived with two policemen. While the officers put a handcuff on the unconscious criminal and took care of the loaded gun that was still unlocked, the man took the bullet out of the IT guy’s shoulder and put a pressure bandage on the wound. Only when the non-emergency attendant arrived did they start the patient transportation.

The ride back to Seoul was a blur of highlighted emotions. It could have taken ten minutes or two entire hours, Seulgi couldn’t have told because she was fixated on holding onto Yoongi’s hand who had fallen asleep due to the painkiller he had gotten. The girl was taken aback how peaceful his face looked like while he was blacked out. She honestly doubted she would have ever found tranquillity in her dreams again after the massacre they had witnessed. Hence she was a tad bit afraid when they eventually arrived and the doctors took the wounded guy away, leaving her and Jungkook on the hallway with the dull blankets around their figures. Since they weren’t injured, people didn’t know what to do with them and they had no idea either. A faint voice in Seulgi’s head told her that she should have called her mom but she wasn’t ready for their usual, pity fights therefore she decided to wait for Yoongi on an empty bench instead and seemingly Jungkook came to a similar conclusion.

‘What’s that?’ Seulgi asked when they sat down next to each other, her gaze settled on the bloody piece of paper in the younger’s hand, but the boy didn’t seem to notice that she was talking to him and the girl didn’t want to push him. It had obviously belonged to Yerim and her death was too fresh and painful.

Eventually, the two university students fell asleep on one another - the girl’s head leaning against the boy’s upper arm and the boy’s atop the girl’s - and they were both dreaming about blood and broken screams. Even though they had escaped, a part of them was still trapped in that horror, in their dreadful memories as if deep down they knew that none of them would be able to rest until the Cheongsan Group stopped their project of developing artificial cities once and for all. Or maybe until the day they died.

➼ epilogue

[giorgiosgiovassiliou]

September 2019

| Reading time: 11 min

ORTHOS LOGOS magazine-Original text in greek

https://orthoslogos.news/author/gvasiliou

Transcendental Surrealism in visual arts and modern era…

A discussion with the visual artist-architect Mr Giorgios (Gio) Vassiliou

Odysseus's return-the decisive instant 110x70cm oi on canvas

A new Surrealism which conveys an idea of what man is capable of achieving, when he is released from his shackles and looks free at the cosmic becoming as well as himself! He is carried by the Visual artist-Architect Mr Giorgos (Gio) Vassiliou , calling him Transcendental. Historically, it was presented in the summer (July) of 2018 at the Historical Archives-Museum of Hydra-Greece***.

According to the rapporteur of this new proposal,

it is the progressive development of Surrealism, as presented in the beginning of the 20th Century.

«I asked a child holding a candle:

Where did your light come from?

He immediately turned it off and told me:

If you tell me where it went I will tell you

where it came from!»

Poem by Hasan of Basra

Giorgios (Gio) Vassiliou was born in Athens in 1970.International recognized as the inventor and founder of Transcendental Surealism in visual arts. He Studied Architecture at Westminster University (London) and Life Drawing. He has been involved in the arts since his childhood and has presented his works in important art galleries in Athens. Many prominent Greek art historians have written official reviews on the evolution and importance of his work, such as: Stelios Lidakis, Georgios Prokopiou, Athena Schina, M. Georgousi, etc. During his many years of artistic research and development, he gradually developed and presented his own artistic style, a new proposal in the visual arts, Transcendental Surrealism. Artworks of him can be found in major Private Collections.

"We all know, Mr. Vassiliou notes, that every season .......

"It simply came to our notice then, that this very idea had to dress up itself and come out in the daylight. Its dress in this charge of it, is the very vision that gives its breath and substance. The subjective nature of the vision is called to be realized, to become real and to be externalized as something with a material existence. This is exactly what happens with the vision of Transcendental Surrealism (TS), descending from the subjective heights that emanates and "lands" in our natural world.

The nature of a vision (as we all know) is to travel us, to fly to unprecedented heights, to transport us to unknown places and dimensions. However, just as vision includes its "flight", it must also have a "takeoff" as well as a safe "landing". Only under this condition, a vision respects itself, when it includes in its manifestation a complete cosmic cycle of events. "

has very special conditions, which define and characterize it, as unique and unrepeatable in the space-time continuum. These conditions give birth to or create "We all know, Mr. Vassiliou notes, that every season is inspired by special conditions, which define and characterize it, as unique and unrepeatable in the space-time continuum. These conditions give birth to or create from their very essence, this entity identity that directs the conquests and aspirations of this historical period. Here in this new proposal, we are primarily interested in the vision of that accompanies the starting idea.

In the vision that concerns T. S. ., as its founder and inventor , Giorgios (Gio) Vassiliou, hopes that the aforementioned condition will be met, in order to offer us safe and complete flights in the future.

The saying "that art follows life" is also known, but sometimes life follows art, and this has HAPPENED lots of times. In Transcendental Surealism the notion of "reasonable time" and causality is collapsing, because the future comes to meet the present and the aftermath! Let us now look at the necessity and usefulness of the Transcendental Surealism not only in the visual arts, but also in the age in which we live and which is creatively integrated. First of all, I must (but I must) refer to the transcendental element, which is the dominant synthetic factor of The T. S..

By definition, the transcendental element is an extraterrestrial or exocosmic conception of another kind of "superior" impression on our world. While it is intended for the here and now, however, its origin (potentially at least) is not of this world!

And, I am referring to this subtle and refined factor, which expands our perception, after all, it is transcendent that transcends our understanding, expands it , if you will, to unprecedented proportions compared to before.

Painting of

Imagine a vast horizon, which as we approach it expands and opens up new dimensions in our visible and invisible spectrum!

Historically, the Transcendental Element has existed, like flashes, since the time of the caves in the human factor! Then humo erectus recognizes that the natural elements (that surround him) surpass him, the sun and the stars surpass him, he begins and sets foot on the transcendental element, ending up with the approach of the divine factor that transcends everything.

Giorgios (Gio) Vassiliou :Collecting the quintessence of life/oil on canvas /135x70cm

"There, somewhere in the depths of history, begins the journey of the search for the transcendent in the human race. The Transcendental Element, it seems, has always been and is (still) intertwined with man's religious or theological existence, as if there were only a means to it.

And, I explain the above conclusion: man seems to be made like an apartment building, his consciousness resides in only one or two at most three floors. Its transcendental nature is found and exists only on the upper floors.

All that remains is to inhabit them so that they do not remain uninhabited! That is, the upper floors are also our home, so we need to get to know them, finally, to inhabit them, as we do with the lower floors. In addition, we can say that if the ground floor is our normal (mostly instinctive) life, the first is our emotions with dreams and the second is our intellect, from there on there is our transcendent floor. That is, we must go up and settle on these floors. This is our future and our destination as humankind! "

And this very fact, through the T. S. , will prove to be a natural factor of human existence and not only through its religious nature. In a way, we are structured to function "transcendentally", beyond all others. We can function, not only logically or mentally or emotionally, we can also "transcendentally".

Over time in arts and literature, the Transcendental element was, with flashes, present in many works throughout the centuries.

It is worth mentioning: the Opus of Gilgamesh, the Iliade and the Odyssey, Sufi poetry, Christian transcendental texts, Byzantine hagiography, the Virgin of the rocks of Leonardo da Vinci and others.

"But even in the most recent years, such as: Jesus of St. John of the Cross by Dali, the crazy pomegranate – poem of O. Elytis, Nietzsche’s Zarathustra, the Nibelungen ring of Richard Wagner, etc. I must also mention the participation of science in the transcendental, in addition to modern quantum physics, which has as its given information: the spirit, world consciousness, the overthrow of the law of causality, etc.

But let's take a closer look at the Minkowski diagrams, which, in addition to the two space-time cones, also have the factor "elsewhere" = somewhere else or something else.

The most obvious scientific allusion to the transcendental (in my opinion) is the so-called 4-dimensional Minkowski diagrams. Scientifically, the diagrams of German mathematician Herman Minkowski accompany A. Einstein's Special Theory of Relativity, presenting the unity of space with time. They show us in the most obvious way that there is no space without time, just the opposite. These two fundamental quantities exist as a unit in the universe of relativity, where we all live, move and exist! The same goes for the microcosm of man and the Transcendental element. Human factor and Transcendental element, it is a unity that we must discover and understand.

This "elsewhere" is an undefined but real factor.

In the role of "elsewhere" can we assume that the super-logical or transcendental element is the most appropriate to place?

The current and prevailing systems have their "axioms" as well as their "laws", and, it seems, are inspired by a dominant factor, which as another God rules them in their own particular way. Everyone wants to get along with this "God" because he provides "happiness" to anyone who is a faithful follower of him!

As for glory (because of the well-known saying: money many hated glory nobody), I must say that today with the power of money, even glory can be acquired or something like that…

"In order to complete this first level of approach of the T. S. , I have to cite some data regarding the time we live in and the acceptance of the transcendental in it. Our age is characterized as "the age of speed" but also of stress. The transitory and the fleeting are dominant everywhere, as never before in history.

This "current God" of our time, it seems that in his total domination of human consciousness has been overturned unilaterally. Now, it seems that the cosmic scales are tilting a lot. A second factor (second voltage on the scales) is needed to adequately balance the human-world system. Now, I have to say in detail that money only provides strength and power when accumulated in quantity by a person. The quantity factor, is what is sought in anyone, who seeks "modern happiness." The amount of money circulating around the world is like the corresponding amount of blood flowing in our veins and arteries. But I ask: where rests the quality to balance quantity? The second balancing factor is only the quality, which seems to be in search. But we must not forget (nor confuse) quality with anything else.

Minkowsi diagram (image above)

So in this current period, the "current God" or the "current material God" or "the one who is finally in fashion" seems to be represented by money and its accessories.

Quality is not a quantitative factor, it is like the salt that flavors the food or the aroma that enlivens the atmosphere. It is a subtle and refined factor, therefore hard to find, in the material world of the quantity we live.

"All these elements over the years have created a need for artistic expression within me. My accumulated quantity was looking for its balancing quality.

So fatal, at some point I felt it was time for this inner event to manifest itself. And what better way to make it visible to everyone through painting, the oldest of the visual arts, which directly concerns human vision, so that it becomes a visible event for everyone. It is now clear that there was a historical need to present the transcendental element in a structured artistic proposition and philosophy.

The next step is to explain why the visual movement of Surrealism was chosen to accompany, in this journey, the transcendental

Surrealism (Surealism = Sur-Realisme = Upper Reality or Over-Reality) by definition refers to a higher level, than the real one, of human perception and understanding. It was historically presented at the beginning of the 20th century. by Andre Breton and his circle (Daly, Ernst, Magritte, etc.) and came from the liberation movement of Dandaism that preceded little time. It was based on three key elements, to express the new perception and approach they offer us, in terms of understanding our world. These were the following:

a) The dream element

Gio Vassiliou artwork :Transcendental woman 60x60cm oil on canvas

Quality, you say, seems to require a struggle to be acquired, not bought, nor is it readily available. It is this direction that characterizes it. Is quality the denominator in the cosmic fraction of the modern age?

b) Associative thinking-free association thoughts

c) Automatic writing

These three factors present a different perception from the real one. Impressions are gained in a fluid, global, diffused way, not from the natural world, but from a parallel stream of thought that runs parallel to life but is not the same as it is.

"There is a shift in the perception of impressions, from the real, to a semi-subjective level, based on the three main points of reference that we mentioned a little while ago.

G. Vassiliou :Long day’s journey into night /oil on canvas /80x60cm

These three factors on which the expression of Surrealism was based, certainly and unquestionably, stand above our natural world, where everything in the cycle of activities almost happens to us, because they are just happened automatically, instinctively and mechanically. But all three factors of Surrealism belong to a semi-conscious or subconscious nature if you want, reducing the participation of consciousness that is also required in our evolution. Concequently, I do not decide when and what I will dream, or when will never have free associative thinking! What happens to me subconsciously in the "I" is not the driver of the human vehicle, but just a passenger!

The need for a more conscious framework than Surrealism seems to be more evident than ever. So my personal study and observation led me to the presentation of Transcendental Surrealism, which combines all the aforementioned elements together into a single and organized whole for the first time in the visual arts and the human intellect. Of course, we still have a lot to say about this event in the future, which will become more extensive in future posts.

Concluding, Mr. Vassiliou states,, "from the bottom of his heart" that Transcendental Surealism is just beginning its long journey in human history and has many destinations and ports to visit. He wishes that in some of these ports (or even airports due to the "flight mentioned above") we all meet and get to know each other better "not only naturally but also transcendentally".

Diptich-Collecting the quintessence of life - Day Night/ by Gio Vassiliou

[a-damson-in-distress]

The Protégé 3

Pairing: MadaSaku

Plot: In search of a new cellist for his prestigious orchestra, an infamously feared maestro stumbles upon a young rising star.

Note: I pray to Baby Jesus that none of you were ever in an orchestra, because I have no idea if what Madara says towards the end sounds even remotely like conductor-talk. I do still know what a bunch of the terms mean form my time as a pianist, but again, I was never in an orchestra and I have no idea if a conductor would use them this way. Also, I kind of sort of perpetuated myself in this chapter, or at least my office number lol. 3.201 is the number of my own office at university and the way Madara describes it (”all the rooms are labelled” etc) is a literal word-for-word copy of how I describe the way to my office when I’ve got people coming in for an appointment. 

And last but not least, here are the links to the pieces mentioned in the chapter: Brian Tyler - Sleight of Hand and Ludovico Einaudi - The Taranta Project . Introductio ad Regnum Tarantulae, Choros, and Taranta are my personal favourites of Einaudi’s album, but I posted a link to the entire album, because it is A.MA.ZINGGGG. If you only want to check out the three songs mentioned, you should search for the songs separately though instead of listening to the album version I posted above, because some of the recordings on the album are live versions and the studio recordings simply sound better.

I’m suuuuuuuuuuuuuper excited to hear your opinion on this chapter as well as the music. None of my friends or family like the sort of music that I incorporate in this story, so I’m incredibly excited to share these pieces with you and anyway asoiwjefoijsdf so yeah, bye.

Sakura was standing in front of the mirror in her hotel room scrutinising her seventh outfit. She was supposed to be at Mr Uchiha’s office at the New National Theatre in two hours, and she had already spent the last 45 minutes deciding what to wear. She couldn’t for the life of her come up with a decent look, since the majority of her wardrobe was very girly, all bright colours, soft lace, and flower prints. Given her fashion sense – or lack thereof, Sakura never thought that she would ever regret not owning a lot of stylish and sleek pieces. In the past, she never felt the need to buy formal and impressionable clothing, since the orchestra provided that for her whenever they were required to dress a certain way for public appearances. But now, Sakura would kill for a nice pant suit, or at least a blouse that didn’t have this person is clearly colour blind written all over it.

Groaning in frustration, the young cellist slipped out of her pastel pink dress and turned to the myriad of clothes strewn across her bed. Her gaze landed on a white shirt her friends had gifted her when she was sixteen years old, right after winning the first Grand Prize at the Rostropovitch Cello Competition. The shirt showed a picture of her instrument in the middle with the words Cello: Everyone Else Is Accompaniment below it. Sakura smiled at the memory. She loved that shirt, and she loved all of her other clothes as well. She felt most comfortable in dresses and skirts and pretty little tops with unicorns and ice cream cones and flowers on them.

But she couldn’t turn up to a meeting with one of the world’s greatest conductors looking like she burped sunshine and farted rainbows.

As she went through her pieces of clothing looking for something more mature or at least subtler, Sakura thought back to the email Mr Uchiha had sent her two weeks ago. He always seemed so poised and mature and suave, even in his correspondence. In the maestro’s presence – physical or digital – Sakura always felt like a naïve little schoolgirl asking her strict and intimidating headmaster for directions to the cafeteria. Thinking back to what she had written, she felt incredibly stupid for asking him what to do next. But then his reply came through, and Sakura couldn’t have been happier.

 Dear Ms Haruno,

at the risk of sounding smug, I have to say you made the right decision. But then again, I expected nothing less from you. As for what happens next – there’s no need to worry, I will take of everything for you. Allow me to lead the way. I am your maestro now, after all.

 Sincerely,

Madara Uchiha

 Sakura got his reply at 1:20 in the morning and naturally, she was so over the moon she didn’t get a wink of sleep that night. Luckily, the following days went by in a blur. She had to sign lots of paperwork for Kyoto Concert Hall, find a new tenant for her flat, answer a bunch of emails from a bunch of strangers from the New National Theatre, go to a total of four farewell-parties organised by her former orchestra’s musicians, and finally say goodbye to her beloved Maestro Senju.

In the meantime, Mr Uchiha had booked her a flight to Tokyo and a hotel room in which she was free to stay for a few weeks while looking for a place to live in the capital city.

Now, two weeks later, Sakura was about to sign the contract that would change her life.

But first, she needed to change her outfit.

Madara saw her walk up the grand staircase, eyes wide with wonder, soaking up the modern and sleek architecture of the New National Theatre. The architect had worked with glass a lot and had installed windows and glass walls wherever he could, so the entire building was bathed in a natural light.  Everything was understated and subtle, yet tasteful and aesthetic at the same time – all pastel colours and typical Japanese minimalism.

Amidst the rather chiselled, sophisticated, and mature look of the theatre, the young cellist stood out like a sore thumb with her bubblegum-pink hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, her white camisole top with lace applications, and the dark-green culotte pants, which she tied above her waist with a pretty little bow.

Madara decided to give her another moment to savour the view while he retreated to his office. He glanced at his watch and noted with satisfaction that she was over-punctual. She still had fifteen minutes to spare before their scheduled meeting, which gave him another fifteen minutes to force all the inappropriate teasing he thought of when he saw her to the back of his mind. Though Madara had thoroughly enjoyed rattling Ms Haruno during their previous encounter, he had to be absolutely professional now – this time he was in his territory, after all, and he had a reputation to uphold. Namely that of a tough and relentless hard-ass conductor, who didn’t feel a thing at the sight of some young musician’s awe-struck eyes staring up at him as if he were her personal god and saviour.

The maestro took a seat at his desk, turned on his speakers, and opened the playlist he created for the upcoming tour. Clicking on the desired music file, he let the sound of Ludovico Einaudi’s Taranta envelop his office as he started jotting down notes on the corresponding sheet music.

Einaudi’s Taranta Project was one of the more experimental parts of the repertoire he was planning for the tour. Frankly, he would not have even included it if Ms Haruno had not agreed to join his ensemble. The compositions Madara chose featured a strong focus on strings, and he simply couldn’t imagine his orchestra performing such avant-garde pieces without a cellist who showed the same level of passion and eagerness to experiment as the composer himself.

The conductor was torn from his thoughts when he heard a knock on his office door. He lowered the volume of the song to a barely audible minimum and summoned her in.

Madara watched his principal cellist open the door and hesitantly step into the room. Her gaze roamed around his spacious office for a second before resting on him.

“Ms Haruno, welcome to Tokyo,” he said as he walked around his desk to approach her.

The maestro noted another blush tainting her cheeks before she stretched out her hand to shake his. “Thank you, Mr Uchiha. You have no idea how excited I am to be here.”

As he gestured for her to take a seat on the grey leather sofa, Madara heard her ask, “That was from The Taranta Project, wasn’t it? Is Einaudi going to be part of our tour programme?” Madara leaned back in the armchair to Sakura’s right and crossed one leg over the other. “That depends. How do you feel about opening with Choros?” He watched her eyes sparkle with excitement.

“I love that idea. But if you decide to perform the entire album, we could open with Introductio and just stick to Einaudi’s original order. It’s softer than Choros and would also set a better mood for Taranta. Though Choros would be more appropriate if you want to go with a darker, more mature concert.”

Madara narrowed his eyes and stared at the pinkette with a pensive gaze. How could someone so seemingly shy and unobtrusive hide so much excitement, passion, and energy? The way her eyes lit up at the mention of Einaudi’s pieces and the way she enthusiastically talked about the things she loved made Madara decide to ask her about her opinion more often. When she realised he wasn’t answering, her eyes widened in shock and she quickly clasped a hand over her mouth, before lowering it just enough to allow herself to speak. “I’m so sorry, Mr Uchiha. I didn’t mean to criticise your choices or tell you what to do. I-I just… got carried away with the excitement and everything,” she stammered, fixing her gaze on her lap before letting out a shaky breath. “I’m really nervous, in case you didn’t realise.”

The maestro studied the cellist for another moment, before murmuring, “Why are you nervous, Ms Haruno?”

She slowly raised her head again to look at him, and Madara had to actively restrain himself from staring at her teeth nervously biting her bottom lip. Instead, he watched her pull a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

“Because… it’s you,” she breathed weakly.

Well, that piqued his interest.

“Care to elaborate, Ms Haruno?”

The young cellist turned her gaze away from him, now resting on her lap again where she was watching her fingers play with the ends of the ribbon she tied above her waist. “Well… it’s probably silly to you, but you’re… you’re sort of my favourite conductor and a huge role model and just – I don’t know, being in the same room with you freaks me out, let alone the thought of playing in your orchestra. Not – not freak out in a bad way,” she fixed him with a frantic gaze, hands waving in front of her in defence, “I’m not saying I’m so freaked out I can’t perform in your presence, just like – you know, a nervous and excited sort of freak out, the sort that makes you annoyingly self-conscious and turns you into a giant perfectionist, because you desperately want to please your idol, and so…,” Sakura let out a long sigh and turned her head away in embarrassment, before laughing anxiously, “and now I need to stop rambling. Anyway, I’m sorry if I stepped on your toes with my suggestions about Einaudi’s album.”

As soon as she stopped talking and started biting her lip again instead, Madara had to remind himself to keep calm. He found her adorable in a harmless sort of way when she was nervous and flustered, but when she was biting her lip, she instantly became a danger to his sanity and his firm conviction that hooking up with one of his orchestra’s musicians was a terrible idea.

The raven-haired conductor cleared his throat to force himself out of his inappropriate line of thought and asserted, “You have nothing to worry about, Ms Haruno. I wasn’t offended by your remarks in the slightest. To be honest, I was simply astonished at first, since none of my musicians usually dare to speak their mind or give me suggestions on anything. It was a pleasant surprise, though. I think I should ask for your opinion more often.���

The pinkette’s shoulders visibly relaxed as her lips spread into a grateful smile, and Madara noted with satisfaction that he was the put who put it there.

“Now, before you meet with our lawyer to sign the contract, I wanted to give you the chance to talk things through, answer any questions you might have. I believe you had enough time to read through it all. Was there anything you’d like to discuss with me?”

“Um, yes, actually. Though not so much about the contract per se, that was probably the most precise contract ever drafted. But um,” he watched Ms Haruno lick her lips with such a fascination as if he were witnessing the birth of Jesus Christ himself, “I did have a few questions about the repertoire and the pieces you’re considering for the tour. I noticed there were a few compositions for a string quartet with a heavy focus on the cello, even some cello solos. I was just wondering if it’s maybe a bit early for me to be featured so heavily. I am the youngest member of your ensemble, after all, with the least amount of experience. I’m basically a rookie compared to your other musicians.”

“Let me assure you, Ms Haruno, that you are by no means a rookie in my orchestra. None of my musicians think that, especially not me. And I would never assign you anything if I wasn’t absolutely certain you could rise up to it.”

The doubtful look in her eyes didn’t waver. “I believe you, and I really appreciate your confidence in me. It’s just – I’m worried that I might get off on the wrong foot with the others if I get so much attention right from the beginning. Maestro Senju didn’t give me a solo piece until I was with the orchestra for a year, and even then, some people got really jealous and upset. I just want a smooth start without any bad blood.”

Of course, Madara mused, he sensed there was a deeper reason behind her uncertainty. He knew that she knew how good she was and that she could perform those solo pieces in her sleep. Her hesitance had nothing to do with her doubting her musical prowess, but everything to do with her kind disposition, almost too kind for something so competitive and cut-throat as Japan’s classical music scene.

Madara decided then that it was good he had taken such a liking to her. The cellist was right – if she wasn’t careful, his musicians would eat her for breakfast. Lucky for her, the big bad wolf of a conductor harboured a teeny-tiny musical crush on her.

“Ms Haruno, you are the only person in my ensemble that I have personally pursued. Everybody else had to audition, but not you, because that’s just how good you are. I’m not going to leave you unnoticed in the background, that would be a waste of and insult to your talent. That being said, the tour programme isn’t finalised yet, so we can talk about changing bits and pieces, depending on how well our rehearsals go. But if I’m satisfied with your performance, you will take centre stage. And if anybody has a problem with that,” Madara was just about to finish his sentence with they can come to me but refrained from doing so when he realised how inappropriately possessive it sounded. “Then you should just be happy about the fact that older and more experienced musicians feel so threatened by someone so young. If anything, their jealousy is a compliment. Trust me, knowing you’re better than others is a great confidence boost,” the conductor added with a smug grin.

Her melodious laughter echoed through his office which only made his smirk widen. When she calmed down, the pink-haired musician started biting her lip again, this time probably to stop herself from grinning. After another moment where Madara allowed himself to simply enjoy her carefree happiness, he added with gentle encouragement, “Seriously, Ms Haruno, don’t worry about what others think of you. Our profession was and always will be highly competitive, and you will always make enemies no matter how kind you are or how many cookies you bake for your colleagues. Don’t ever allow other people’s inferiority complex to rain on your parade.” Madara looked at her intently, his eyes softening as he murmured, “You’re too good for that.”

A deep blush spread across her face, and her doe-like eyes stared up at him with that look of wonder and admiration that made him want to shower her with compliments, if only she would keep looking at him that way. If he hadn’t known any better, Madara could have sworn her gaze rested on his lips for a split second before meeting his eyes again.

The maestro had to physically force himself to look away. It got increasingly difficult to remain professional with all the adorable blushing and fidgeting. Here he was, a 39-year-old man who loved old Scotch, vintage cars, self-assured women, and everything else that was ripe and mature in this world. And yet this young naïve little thing who was so nervous she was basically shaking in his presence, staring up at him like a lost lamb looking for shelter, stirred up a protective instinct in him he never knew he had.

Change of subject, Madara reminded himself. Right fucking now.

“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about, Ms Haruno?”

Please say no, please say no, please say no, please say –

“Yes.”

Fuck.

The conductor raised an expectant eyebrow while forcing his expression to relax in an effort to mask his internal struggle. He wanted her to stay for all the wrong reasons, so he needed her to leave for all the right ones.

“About your list of rules,” Sakura started off hesitantly.

Dear God, please don’t mention rule number five.

The fingers of Madara’s right hand dug into the armrest as he prepared himself for the worst.

“There was this one part where it said that you as the conductor choose our concert outfits. I was just wondering what fabric the clothes were made of. Because Maestro Senju tried it with velvet pant suits once and we all got a horrible rash, supposedly because of some chemicals they used to dye the fabric. I know it’s silly and fabrics should be the least of your worries, but honestly, the rash was so annoying we had serious trouble concentrating on our performance. So I just wanted to make sure the clothes are… you know, normal.”

Madara released a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, and his fingers relaxed their grip on the leather of the armrest.

“I don’t know what fabric they’re made of, but I know it’s not velvet, and I know nobody has ever gotten a rash or experienced any other bad reactions. But don’t worry, everybody wears their concert outfits for the dress rehearsal, so should you feel uncomfortable in any way, we can still make adjustments before the actual concert.”

A small smile spread across her lips, and she nodded in finality. “Great, thank you. Then that would be all for my part.”

He replied with a nod of his own and stood up from his armchair. As Madara lead the cellist to his office door, he reminded her of her next appointment, “You’ll see our lawyer Mr Hatake next. He’ll go through the contract with you and answer any legal questions you might have. His office is on the third floor, in the Legal Department, room number 3.201. All the rooms are labelled and have door signs, so you really can’t miss him.”

The pinkette shot him another grateful smile. Madara offered his hand and when she took it, he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Welcome to the jungle, Ms Haruno.”

The conductor opened the door of his office and sent her away with a devilish grin.

“So you’re my boyfriend’s replacement, huh?”

Sakura looked up from her sheet music and was met with the face of a gorgeous blonde staring her down with a haughty look.

“Excuse me?”

Sakura took in the person in front of her and realised then she was also holding a cello case. The blonde stepped closer and took a seat right next to her.

“Shikamaru Nara. He was our principal cellist,” the musician explained while opening her case.

“Oh,” it dawned on Sakura. Of course. Some of her former orchestra’s musicians had hinted that the only reason Maestro Uchiha was able to take on a new cellist was because he kicked out the last one.

“You must hate me now, too, huh?” Sakura shot her fellow cellist a half-hearted apologetic smile.

The blonde to her left scoffed. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because I took away your boyfriend’s seat in the orchestra. You could have still played together.”

“Please,” the woman made a dismissive gesture with her hand, “that idiot was never coming back.”

Sakura looked at her incredulously and prodded, “So you don’t hate me?”

The blonde cellist shot her an amused grin, which immediately released some of the tension Sakura was feeling. “I don’t hate you, silly. It’s not like you were actively involved in getting him kicked out. And the Maestro was bound to replace him at some point. So relax, no hard feelings.”

The pinkette laughed awkwardly before offering her hand. “I’m Sakura Haruno. It’s nice to finally meet another cellist of the ensemble.”

A smile tugged on the blonde’s lips as she shook her hand. “I’m Temari Sabakuno. Welcome to Tokyo.”

“Thanks. By the way, what did you mean with your boyfriend wasn’t coming back? I assume every musician would fight tooth and nail for a place in Maestro Uchiha’s orchestra.”

“Not this idiot of a musician,” Temari scoffed while adjusting her endpin. “To be honest, we were kind of hoping to get caught. We were both tired of sneaking around, and Shikamaru was already looking for an excuse to quit. He’s not the most ambitious person, you know, so he wasn’t planning on staying much longer.”

“Why didn’t you leave with him?”

“Because unlike him, I don’t want to stare at clouds all day. I want to conquer the world,” the cellist proclaimed with a proud grin. “No but seriously, I really did want to stay. Maestro Uchiha gave us a choice – either break up and stay in the orchestra or one of us leaves. It was a no-brainer, really. I still get to do what I love with one of the world’s greatest orchestras, and Shikamaru can just chill.”

Sakura felt a smile tugging on her lips. Even though Temari was a virtual stranger, for some weird reason, she was still happy that everything worked out well for the both of them and that – most importantly – the blonde didn’t hold a grudge against Sakura.

That was at least one person in the orchestra who was nice to her so far. The pinkette’s gaze roamed around and took in the many musicians scurrying around the stage and readying themselves for the rehearsal. Some of them had introduced themselves, others only smiled and nodded in her general direction. And then there were those who didn’t even deem her worthy enough of a single glance. A part of Sakura felt shunned, and yet another – albeit smaller part – proud. As Maestro Uchiha had said, everybody else in his ensemble was so much older and so much more experienced than her. What did it say about them if they felt threatened about someone so young?

Not that she needed a lot of encouraging from her conductor – she knew she deserved her place in his orchestra – but for some reason, being praised and complimented by Maestro Uchiha felt so much better than being praised by anybody else, even her previous conductor. Sakura couldn’t wait to show his entire orchestra what she’s got and to prove to her Maestro that he made the right decision in choosing her.

The chatter suddenly quieted down as their conductor entered the stage.

Sakura noticed that her Maestro had a penchant for wearing three-piece suits in dark colours. He never failed to uphold the suave and refined appearance he was known for, though sometimes he would discard his suit jacket and roll up his sleeves for a more relaxed look, like he did for rehearsal today.

The pink-haired cellist had to remind herself not to stare too much. Her Maestro was illegally handsome, but he was still her Maestro.

He tapped his baton against his music stand twice to signal the whispering flautists to quiet down. Once he had everyone’s attention, he let his cold and calculating gaze roam through the rows of musicians who were all expectantly looking up at him. It was clear to Sakura that Maestro Uchiha demanded everyone’s undivided attention and that he had no problem commanding each and every one of this 73 musicians with nothing but silence and a good old-fashioned intimidating stare.

“Before we start with our first rehearsal for the upcoming tour, allow me to address the elephant in the room. As you all know by now, the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra has got a new member as of this April. Ms Sakura Haruno joined us from Kyoto Concert Hall and will fill in our vacant spot of principal cellist.”

Maestro Uchiha’s eyes rested on her for a fleeting second as he spoke her name. Gone was the teasing and relaxed conductor she talked to in his office four days ago.

This was not Mr Uchiha.

This was Maestro Uchiha.

Calculating, in control, and completely in his element.

“Now, let’s show Ms Haruno how well we can all work together. We’re starting with Brian Tyler. Everybody take out your sheet music for Sleight of Hand. Strings, I want you to remember the sudden crescendo at the beginning. Flautists, I want to hear a seamless transition from staccato to legato between the fourth and fifth bar. Once Ms Haruno begins her pizzicato in the seventeenth bar, I want the violinists pianissimo as well as Mr Uzumaki with the xylophones in the eighteenth bar.”

This was it, Sakura thought excitedly. She usually never felt such a thrill during rehearsals, only at concerts. But this was a rehearsal under Maestro Uchiha. She felt goosebumps spread across the entirety of her skin as she readied herself and her instrument. Glancing up at her new Maestro, she caught his intense gaze. He gave her the slightest hint of a smile.

And then, he raised his baton.

“From the top.”

[illusionfm-blog]

*    𝖘𝖚𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌  ,  chapter  ii  :  the  second  part  ft  .  emerson  hemmingway  ,  ya  favorite  fake  ass  !  intelligent  n  powerful  ,  no  nonsense  ,  problem  child  but  aint  nobody  gotta  b  knowin  that  bc  she  won’t  make  it  known  .  she’s  playing  some  dangerous  games  but  that  big  head  of  hers  is  convinced  she’s  not  abt  to  get  caught  and  lowkey  ?  if  anyone  can  pull  it  off  ,  it’d  be  her  !  

⋆    ╰    another     year     at     hollingsworth     ,  another     year     of     the  big     six rivalry     .     i     hear     that  EMERSON    HEMMINGWAY     is     ensuring  CHI    MU    OMEGA     gets     a     solid     pledge     class     and     stays     at     the     top     of     the     ranks     .  oh     ,     you’re     not     familiar     with  HER  ?  EM     is     the  TAYLOR    HILL     look     alike     from  CHICAGO    ,    ILLINOIS     .     a    part     of     PC  ‘16     ,  she  is     majoring     in  PRE-MEDICAL    BIOCHEMISTRY        and     has     plans     to  PURSUE    MEDICAL    SCHOOL    AND    HER    LIFELONG    AMBITION    OF    BECOMING    A    SURGEON     after     undergrad     .     it     makes     sense     they     pledged     their     house     ,     their  FERVID     &  ERUDITE     attributes     make     them     perfect     matches     .     however     ,     their  MENDACIOUS     &  UNRELENTING     attributes     keep     their     name     alive     on  greek     rank     .     if     you     don’t     catch     them     dancing     to  RHIANNON    -    FLEETWOOD    MAC     at     a     fraternity     band     party     this     year     ,     you’ll     be     sure     to     catch     them     nursing     their     morning     hangover     at  THE    CHI    O    HOUSE    .  cheers     to     another     wild     semester    !

tw  :  mentions  of  drug  use  ,  mental  illness

⋆  ╰    𝑺  𝑻  𝑨  𝑻  𝑰  𝑺  𝑻  𝑰  𝑪  𝑺   .

𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍    𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 :     emerson  elaine  hemmingway  (  formerly  katsopoulous  ) 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬     :    em  ,  emmy  ,  ems 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆    /    𝒂𝒈𝒆 :    august  12    ,    twenty  -  one 𝒛𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒄     :    leo 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓    𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒚    /    𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒔     :     cisfemale    identifying    with    she  /  her    /    hers  pronouns 𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏     :     openly    bisexual    and    biromantic  ,  no  preference 𝒐𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏    :    pre-medical  biochemistry  major    at    hu  ,  forward  for  the  hu  women’s  ice  hockey  team  ,  academic  success  center  advisor  &  personal  tutor  ,  personal  trainer  ,  aspiring  surgeon 𝒉𝒐𝒈𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔    𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆    :    slytherin 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏    𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅    𝒃𝒚     :     fiona  &  lip  gallagher    from  shameless  ,  debbie  ocean  from  oceans  8  ,  spencer  hastings  from  pll  ,  princess  bubblegum  &  marceline  from  adventure  time  ,  natasha  romanoff    &  carol  danvers  from  the  mcu  ,    meredith  grey  &  alex  karev  from  grey’s  anatomy 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔    :         -    distant  ,  mendacious  ,  unrelenting  ,  severe  ,  obsessive  ,  easily  goaded  ,  defensive  ,  pessimistic  .

+        fevrent  ,  erudite  ,  observant  ,  level-headed  ,  astute  ,  perceptive  ,  polished  ,  ambitious  ,  capable  .

⋆  ╰      𝑨  𝑵  𝑻  𝑬  𝑪  𝑬  𝑫  𝑬  𝑵  𝑻 .

more  bullet  points  ,  for  the  𝖜𝖎𝖓

emerson  elaine  katsopoulous  comes  into  the  world  on  an  uncharacteristically  warm  chicago  night  ,  testing  positive  for  opioids  ,  a  father  who’s  already  forgotten  her  mother’s  name  as  he  rots  in  a  prison  cell  ,  and  no  reason  for  anyone  to  believe  she’d  ever  amount  to  anything  .

custody  is  awarded  to  her  grandpa  ,  christos  ,  and  pretty  much  the  only  family  she’s  ever  known  becomes  the  ratty  neighborhood  she  grows  up  spending  her  evenings  in  .  christos  surviving  on  disability  and  doing  odd  construction  jobs  here  and  there  under  the  table  for  some  spare  spending  money  ,  emerson  spends  most  of  her  days  under  the  supervision  of  the  dysfunctional  families  in  her  neighborhood  ,  all  fucked  up  in  their  own  ways  but  doing  their  absolute  best  .  she’s  reading  the  label  of  the  cigarette  boxes  she  plays  with  as  toy  cars  by  the  age  of  3  ,  chatty  and  curious  ,  always  inquiring  why  the  man  in  the  street  is  laying  there  with  a  spoon  in  his  hand  or  why  the  ladies  on  the  corner  at  night  are  “  dressed  like  its  warm  when  it’s  really  really  cold  outside  ”

christos  enforces  a  strict  no-visitation  policy  for  emerson’s  mom  and  ensures  the  whole  neighborhood  keeps  it  up  ,  although  there’s  very  little  he  can  do  when  the  vagabond  woman  seeks  emerson  out  on  the  playground  at  school  with  playground  attendants  who  clearly  don’t  care  enough  about  their  jobs  to  pay  attention  

one  of  emerson’s  earliest  formative  memories  is  her  mother  “  picking  her  up  ”  from  school  and  telling  her  they  were  off  to  go  on  an  adventure  ,  causing  an  amber  alert  to  be  put  out  for  the  then  seven-year  old  emmy  .  watching  her  mother  abandoning  her  on  the  sidewalk  to  bolt  away  at  the  sound  of  the  sirens  approaching  is  something  emerson  recognizes  as  the  beginning  of  her  trust  issues

the  older  she  gets  ,  the  more  she  acts  out  ,  landing  her  eventually  in  a  behavioral  school  in  downtown  chicago  where  she  spends  her  days  learning  just  about  nothing  in  class  and  acts  out  even  more  severely  .  christos  is  at  his  wit’s  end  with  the  visitations  from  police  and  her  behavioral  officer  ,  even  a  brief  stint  in  juvie  not  being  enough  to  curb  the  girl’s  enthusiasm  for  trouble  .  

aggression  towards  authority  figures  was  a  major  complaint  ,  but  the  most  severe  issue  became  emerson’s  quick  tongue  and  sharp  observation  .  after  having  learned  a  few  tricks  of  the  trade  from  other  students  at  the  behavioral  school  ,  she  finds  herself  increasingly  talented  at  conning  the  absolute  living  shit  out  of  other  people  .  at  first  it’s  small  things  ,  trading  academic  favors  for  weed  and  somehow  selling  that  for  twice  its  worth  to  the  gullible  students  ,  finding  ways  to  forge  signatures  on  things  she  needs  signed  by  a  guardian  ,  to  the  more  elaborate  and  high  scale  ,  such  as  taking  the  SATs  for  private  school  students  in  the  next  county  over  and  making  BANK  ,  conning  boys  into  trading  off  their  rolexes  which  she  later  pawns  .  

christos  puts  her  in  ice  hockey  at  the  recommendation  of  her  juvenile  probation  officer  at  the  age  of  13  ,  which  proves  to  be  one  of  her  saving  graces  .  her  coach  becomes  a  notable  figure  in  her  life  ,  smacking  the  sense  into  the  chaotic  child’s  mind  that  she  can  accomplish  so  much  more  than  she  gives  herself  credit  for  .  her  behavior  interventionist  recommends  an  adhd  screening  for  which  she  finally  gets  a  diagnosis  ,  and  a  prescription  for  adderall  ,  which  marks  the  beginning  of  her  transformation  .

just  before  entering  high  school  ,  christos  and  emerson  are  contacted  by  a  woman  who  identifies  herself  as  her  long  lost  aunt  .  as  it  turns  out  ,  her  hockey  coach  had  done  some  digging  and  found  that  her  father  ,  a  man  em  had  never  once  spoken  to  ,  had  an  estranged  family  located  in  ohio  ,  moguls  of  a  local  architecture  chain  with  political  ties  and  very  well  off  .  wanting  to  branch  out  into  more  metropolitan  areas  ,  they  mention  their  interest  in  moving  to  chicago  ,  and  concoct  a  plan  that  changes  emerson’s  life  

thanks  to  some  insider  ties  ,  her  politician  aunt  daphne  has  completely  erased  her  felon  brother  from  any  connection  to  her  ,  and  has  forged  a  life  for  herself  with  her  architect  husband  .  feeling  a  duty  to  her  estranged  niece  (  and  preferring  to  get  ahead  of  any  potential   surprises  that  could  come  from  having  secret  family  derailing  her  political  career  )  daphne  and  christos  come  to  the  agreement  that  emerson  can  be  “  adopted  ”  by  her  aunt  ,  living  as  her  daughter  and  trading  the  slums  she  grew  up  in  for  a  life  of  luxury  and  illusion  .  emerson  learns  to  tell  the  lie  with  ease  ,  “  i  lived  with  my  grandpa  instead  of  my  mom  and  dad  due  to  some  health  complications  that  were  best  treated  at  the  university  of  chicago  medical  center  ,  but  they  spent  as  much  time  as  possible  here  ”

in  order  for  the  lie  to  work  ,  and  possibly  one  of  the  most  difficult  moments  of  emerson’s  life  ,  daphne  regretfully  has  her  cut  off  contact  with  everyone  from  her  “  old  life  .  ”  letting  go  of  a  felon  father  and  schizophrenic  drug  addicted  mother  was  easy  due  to  never  having  attached  herself  in  the  first  place  ,  but  abandoning  the  families  that  raised  her  and  the  hockey  coach  who  changed  her  life  was  among  the  most  painful  thing  she’s  ever  done

she  changes  her  last  name  ,  moves  to  the  upper  class  suburb  of  chicacgo’s  finest  ,  her  con  artist  tendency  making  her  transition  seamless  and  the  illusion  of  fitting  in  so  much  more  than  an  illusion  .  learning  from  those  around  her  ,  emerson  learns  the  exact  things  to  say  ,  the  precise  ways  to  move  ,  and  with  a  newly  funded  bank  account  thanks  to  her  “  parents  ,  ”  she  pulls  off  the  act  with  ease  .  she  moves  up  into  a  premier  hockey  league  ,  achieves  grades  that  catch  the  attention  of  countless  schools  ,  and  transforms  into  a  driven  and  determined  steam  train  ,  with  a  one  way  ticket  into  a  legacy  she’s  built  from  the  ground  up

hollingsworth  u  became  her  most  appealing  option  after  touring  the  premises  and  finding  the  competitiveness  of  an  ivy  league  without  the  social  ineptitude  — equal  parts  ritzy  glam  and  fierce  ambition  ,  hu  seemed  to  embody  everything  emerson  was  seeking  without  the  pretentiousness  of  the  other  schools  groveling  at  her  feet  to  have  her

her  first  few  years  are  a  breeze  ,  her  family  connections  meaning  she’s  set  up  in  countless  places  to  achieve  whatever  she  wants  .  she  gets  an  internship  at  the  medical  center  doing  research  by  her  sophomore  year  ,  is  a  starter  on  their  women’s  hockey  team  ,  and  is  enjoying  the  social  aspect  of  her  sorority  time

shit  TRULY  hits  the  fan  the  summer  before  her  senior  year  ,  when  daphne’s  campaign  for  mayor  of  chicago  is  rattled  by  an  investigation  that  exposes  her  senior  assistant  for  having  embezzled  from  the  city  .  though  daphne  herself  is  innocent  ,  the  political  climate  pushes  for  a  closer  eye  on  the  hemmingways  and  their  dealings  .  a  crisis  manager  (  literally  olivia  pope  lmao  )  does  her  own  research  and  before  emerson  knows  it  ,  she’s  suddenly  thrust  into  her  senior  year  with  absolutely  no  financial  support  from  her  family  .  as  it  turns  out  ,  due  to  the  corners  cut  by  not  formally  nor  legally  adopting  emerson  (  as  it  would  have  left  a  paper  trail  )  ,  the  financial  aid  daphne  provided  would  route  in  a  way  that  would  not  line  up  with  the  birth  certificate  that  showed  emerson’s  birth  parents  as  people  other  than  her  fake  parents  .  not  wanting  to  risk  a  scandal  that  would  make  national  headlines  without  doubt  ,  daphne  and  emerson  devise  an  alternative  where  em  uses  her  academic  and  athletic  prowess  to  earn  scholarships  to  cover  her  schooling  ,  which  can’t  be  traced  and  leave  no  red  flags  for  anyone  trying  to  dig  up  dirt  .  

emerson  knows  she  can’t  let  anyone  think  she’s  struggling  ,  both  for  her  own  ego  and  for  the  sake  of  her  aunt’s  campaign  ,  which  is  why  she’s  pushing  herself  to  the  edge  to  keep  up  both  her  academics  and  her  athletics  to  maintain  these  scholarships  .  while  these  cover  the  basic  costs  ,  keeping  up  the  lifestyle  she’s  had  requires  a  bit  more  effort  ,  which  is  where  it  seems  this  tiger  won’t  change  her  stripes  no  matter  how  well  she  had  hidden  them  for  so  long  .  what  started  as  simple  tutoring  turned  into  a  teleportation  back  to  her  behavioral  school  in  chicago  but  on  a  wider  scale  —  she  sells  her  adderall  prescription  to  make  quick  cash  and  offers  her  services  for  fake  test  taking  or  last-minute  essay  writing  .  it’s  high  risk  ,  but  also  high  reward  ,  and  emerson  has  always  thrived  in  high  pressure  situations

⋆  ╰      𝑨  𝑵  𝑨  𝑳  𝒀  𝑺  𝑰  𝑺  .

personality  wise  ,  em  is  known  for  being  the  cool  calm  and  collected  type  ,  who’s  a  bit  of  a  mystery  to  most  .  she’s  an  illusion  and  lives  the  lie  she’s  been  telling  as  if  its  her  second  skin  ,  sometimes  losing  what  she  believes  in  at  her  core  .

she’s  deeply  ambitious  and  wants  to  be  a  surgeon  ,  her  dream  since  she  was  a  child  as  medicine  was  the  most  stimulating  thing  possible  to  her  .  she  did  so  much  research  on  her  “  fake  illness ”   to  sell  her  story  that  she  ended  up  falling  in  love  with  it  ,  and  has  been  set  on  medicine  ever  since

this  aggressive  ambition  can  also  show  as  fixation  or  obsession  ,  and  emerson  has  a  severe  problem  with  not  knowing  where  to  let  go  .  while  she  seems  cool  and  detatched  ,  she’s  obsessed  with  never  feeling  like  she  could  have  done  more  and  will  always  be  the  girl  who  can  be  goaded  into  taking  things  too  far  ,  often  putting  her  in  dangerous  situations  that  she  has  to  figure  her  own  way  out  of

she  tends  to  take  everything  kinda  seriously  and  despite  being  p  relaxed  ,  her  perfectionist  type  a  side  makes  itself  very  apparent  in  the  day-to-day  of  her  life  .  she  knows  how  to  play  hard  and  enjoys  herself  a  good  party  ,  but  even  in  the  way  she  plays  beer  pong  she  hates  to  fail

has  a  sexy  deep  voice  n  an  even  SEXIER  deadpan  sarcastic  wit  .  ..  .  def  the  friend  to  call  out  bs  without  batting  an  eye  ,  usually  wearing  an  oversized  hoodie  n  gucci  slides  ,  em  is  the  literal  intersection  of  boujie  and  casual   PHEW

having  such  an  unstable  upbringing  and  so  many  shitty  experiences  at  such  a  young  age  have  hardened  her  and  made  her  deeply  unwilling  to  trust  others  .  she  tends  to  keep  the  world  at  a  distance  ,  and  even  her  closest  friends  always  admit  it  feels  like  they’re  still  an  arms  length  from  her  deepest  layer  .  emerson  is  pretty  sure  the  only  person  to  ever  see  her  cry  is  her  grandpa  ,  and  intends  to  likely  keep  it  that  way

instead  of  freaking  out  ,  em  shuts  down  !  v  unemotional  !  she  just  detatches  and  tries  to  be  calculated  which  tends  to  make  people  think  she’s  some  shitty  robot  who  doesnt  give  a  fuck  about  anyone  but  herself  bc  of  her  “  rich  girl  upbringing ”  which  is  true  to  an  extent  ,  but  nobody  will  ever  know  the  true  backstory  that  explains  her  emotional  detachment  and  secrecy

in  a  way  ,  even  though  she  has  the  world  convinced  she’s  this  composed  individual  ,  she  still  always  thinks  of  herself  as  a  chaotic  problem  child  which  only  fuels  her  determination  even  more  ,  often  to  the  extent  that  she  fucking  burns  herself  out  .  she’s  incredibly  cynical  and  has  a  p  negative  self  perception  because  she’s  just  that  fucking  hard  on  herself

has  never  really  been  in  love  !  she’s  never  let  anyone  close  enough  to  her  that  she  risks  getting  attached  enough  to  get  hurt  ,  which  means  relationships  are  usually  rather  shallow  and  end  when  she  gets  bored  or  when  they  get  tired  of  waiting  for  her  to  open  up

stressed  as  SHIT  trying  to  keep  up  her  illusion  for  her  own  ego’s  sake  and  that  of  her  family  !  she’s  ashamed  of  her  upbringing  and  her  aunt  has  always  been  pretty  good  to  her  ,  and  em  recognizes  that  if  daphne  wouldn’t  have  appeared  ,  emerson  would  probably  have  ended  up  like  either  one  of  her  parents  .  people  have  noticed  that  emerson  seems  a  lil  more  anal  than  usual  ,  but  the  con  in  her  makes  it  easy  to  convince  everyone  she’s  just  stressed  with  the  prospect  of  graduation  and  medical  school  

[curufins-smile]

Handbags at Dawn

Turgon is faced with his Great Nemesis at the park.

(For @alackofghosts )

Turukáno sighs in contentment. It is a pleasantly warm day in one of Tirion’s leafy parks. He has managed to find a well-maintained bench, and has a good vantage point to watch Itarillë feed a trio of fat pigeons by the fountain. He turns to his satchel to look over the architectural plans he brought with him to read while his daughter is occupied, but his peace is shattered by a voice.

“Oh, it’s you.”

There is only one person who could impart such disgust with his very existence into three words. Turukáno looks up to see Curufinwë standing next to him, arms crossed and a practically vibrating Tyelperinquar next to him.

“Can I go play with Itarillë, Atar?” Tyelperinquar asks, tugging at Curufinwë’s tunic.

“I don’t know,” Curufinwë says, his eyes never leaving Turukáno’s, “can you?”

Tyelperinquar sighs dramatically. “May I go play with Itarillë?”

Curufinwë acquiesces, and Tyelperinquar goes running off.

“Pedant,” says Turukáno, never one not to take advantage of an opening. Especially with him.

“Tyelpë is old enough for me to correct his poor grammar,” Curufinwë retorts. “If it were up to people like you, he’d still be baby talking. I’m surprised that Itarillë is as well-spoken as she is.”

The rules of engagement between them are very simple and have been hashed out over countless battles since childhood. Children and spouses are off limits - both get along surprisingly well with the other’s child. Aside from that, almost anything goes.

“I see that you could not be bothered to dress well today, Curufinwë,” Turukáno says. “Forge clothes? Honestly, I would be laughed out of court if I wore your regular ‘fashion’.”

Curufinwë does not rise to the bait, and instead smiles. Turukáno hates his smile. It should be a smug shark grin as befits his terrible nature, but instead he has inherited a glowing, dimpled smile that makes it look as though he’s never had a bad thought in his life. Turukáno hates. It.

“Turukáno, you’d be laughed out of court because everyone knows you’ve never done an honest day’s work in your life,” Curufinwë says sweetly. “All you do is direct the real workers and then take credit as the architect.”

Turukáno could kick himself. He walked straight into that one. “It takes a guiding hand to bring such a large scale vision to life. Not that you’d know, how many actual inventions and new designs do you have? All you seem to do is the work your father is too good for.”

Turukáno can tell from the gleam in Curufinwë’s eye and the way his smile has faded a little that he’s scored a major blow there. Curufinwë is by all accounts an incredible smith on a practical and theoretical level, but seems to lack the creative spark that sets his father apart.

“Oh, is that large scale vision responsible for the new monstrosity being erected in the city?” Curufinwë replies, a sharp note entering his formerly breezy tone. “I was commenting to Turco the other day that such a carbuncle on the beautiful face of Tirion could only be your handiwork. Honestly, it’s all the crafters’ guilds can speak of, this new blemish under construction.”

Turukáno grits his teeth, and tells himself that all radical and new architectural styles meet such ridicule before their wider acceptance, and that Curufinwë is just lashing out at a perceived weak spot after Turukáno’s telling blow.

Before he can retort, there is a shriek of laughter from the fountain, and both fathers look over. Tyelperinquar has removed his shoes and is now paddling in the fountain basin, and Itarillë has just splashed him from her seat on the fountain edge. The pigeons appear to have flown off, but the children have other entertainment now. Despite his father’s faults, Turukáno very much appreciates Tyelperinquar and his friendship with Itarillë.

He turns back to Curufinwë who is watching the children play with a fond smile. Round two.

“I’m surprised someone so vitriolic could produce such a lovely child as Tyelperinquar,” Turukáno says.

Curufinwë turns a narrow eyed stare on him and raises an eyebrow. “Really, I could say the same thing about you and Itarillë. Your lady wife seems to take the forefront in raising her, judging from personality alone.” He pauses. “The apple falls far from the tree unlike you and your father.”

Turukáno almost chokes. “Oh, that is incredibly rich, coming from you!” He cannot believe Curufinwë has even dared to go there. “I am not the one who trails after my father like a lost puppy, begging for any scraps of attention he will deign to give me.”

Curufinwë’s cheeks have reddened, whether in embarrassment or rage Turukáno cannot tell. He slaps away the rogue thought that Curufinwë looks rather attractive when blushing.

“Well, there is much to admire about my father,” Curufinwë hisses, all trace of his grin gone. “Unlike yours. Tell me, what has Ñolofinwë ever accomplished, other than to sit in court and whisper poisoned words about my father as he attempts to usurp a throne that he has no right to?”

Turukáno finds himself rising to tower over Curufinwë, grabbing him by his tunic. Curufinwë however remains uncowed. He’s smiling again. Turukáno reminds himself that no matter how tempting it may be, he really should not punch Curufinwë. He may be short for their people, far smaller than Turukáno, but his work in the forge has left him sinewy with muscle. And he fights dirty, always.

A concerned cry from the fountain makes him let go of Curufinwë as though he has been burned. “Is everything alright, Atar?” shouts Itarillë. Tyelperinquar is dripping wet next to her, similarly worried.

Both Curufinwë and Turukáno paste on grins. “Everything is fine, sweetheart!” Turukáno shouts back. “Curufinwë and I were having... a spirited debate.” Next to him, Curufinwë nods. Apparently satisfied with this explanation, Itarillë and Tyelperinquar return to splashing around happily.

Curufinwë sighs, and all the anger seems to escape with it. “I suppose we should stop for now,” he says.

Turukáno moves up on the bench to allow Curufinwë to sit next to him.

“You weren’t here yesterday,” says Curufinwë after a moment, his eyes fixed on their happy children. “I had to make small talk with your wife.”

Turukáno chuckles despite himself. “She came home saying how pleasant you were, and how she can never understand my issues with you.”

Curufinwë shudders delicately. “Ugh, I just can’t be nasty to her, she’s too nice. My reputation will be shot if this continues.”

Turukáno stretches his legs, the joints popping and making Curufinwë cringe. They are like this, the pair of them. They burn both hot and cold in waves, and delight in their razor sharp tongues and biting wit. Turukáno wants to kiss him as much as he wants to hit him, and he often wonders if Curufinwë feels the same. They each provide a sparring partner to the in a war of words, filling a gap that provides stress relief and an outlet for any stewing anger.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

[injeok-blog]

Roh Suha: Survey

What is your character’s name? Nickname?

Birth name: Roh Suha English name: Susan Roh Nickname: Sue/Su

Does your character have any birthmarks? Scars? How did they get them?

No birthmarks. A few moles on body: back of right calf, left ankle, hip, ring finger. Only scars to note are a burn the size of a kidney bean on her knee, several mosquito bites on her legs, and scratch-marks on her left wrist from a minor fall she’d taken off the back of her second boyfriend’s bike.

Who are your character’s family? Are they close?

Father: Roh “Jimmy” Joohyuk, 74. Chairman and Co-founder of Oh+Roh Architects. Member of the Architectural Institue of Korea and the Korea Institute of Architects. Lecturer at University of Seoul. Warm persona despite tight-lipped face and towering disposition. Level-headed, with the comportment of a monk. Suha is very close to him and admires him most.

Mother: Heo Yeeun, 70. Recently retired anesthesiologist. Practical but emotions are in constant flux. Known to hold grudges. Spends most of her time these days hiking and photographing nature. Hopes to see one of her photos published in the National Geographic someday. Suha is fairly close to her, but they do butt heads from time to time.

Younger brother: Roh Suhyun, 32. Hair stylist. Unabashedly outspoken. Bright, feigns idiocy. In a long-term relationship with boyfriend from university—they had been fellow pre-law students (before Suhyun dropped out to pursue his current line of work). Scares Suha because his intuition is always fuckin’ spot-on. Suha is very close to him.

Describe your character’s closest friends/types of people they surround themselves by.

Suha keeps a large circle of friends around her at all times but the majority of her friendships are superficial/prolonged only by some lingering sense of obligation and because sometimes you need to get out of the house and see someone other than your whining kid or your husband’s dumb face. Regularly lunches with work friends (current coworkers, former employees who moved on to start their own practices, clients she clicked with) or classmates from SNU and Cornell. Suhyun is her best friend. Her neighbor, Heesun used to work alongside Sewon until she decided restaurant business was more her flavor please don’t mind the pun. Together they bitch about him with reckless abandon.

Where was your character born? Where have they lived? Where do they call home?

Born and raised in Seoul. Father was just starting to get a name for himself, mother had just started residency at the hospital. Home was a small apartment in a well-to-do neighborhood south of the Han. Six years later, family moved to a slightly larger unit just a few streets away, to accommodate for another little one. Family’s final move took place after Suha’s matriculation to SNU, to a single-story home in Yongsan-gu designed by Suha’s father.

Lived in NYC for a few years after graduating. Lived in Ithaca, New York, to finish a master’s program. Returned to Seoul and lived with family for another two years until engagement in 2010. Commissioned a fellow architect/former classmate to design a small house in Hannam-dong, where she stayed with husband until their separation in 2016. Currently living in a two-bedroom loft in Daechi-dong.

Where does your character go when they’re angry?

To the office. To the gym. Work and working out are the only two things that will take her mind off her boiling rage.

Does your character have any phobias?

Gets squeamish at the sight of blood.

Describe your character’s most meaningful past relationships.

Wouldn’t consider any of the relationships that came before her marriage meaningful—just necessary learning experiences.

Age 17: Her first boyfriend. Stupid attractive and otherwise completely vacuous and unable to hold a conversation. 3 months.

Age 20: A heartthrob (none of her friends agreed with her on that) from Busan. Stoic, short of words. A truly fear-inspiring face, with a protruding jaw, high cheekbones, and long monolids. Emotionally unavailable unless drunk, which was most of the time anyway so maybe in retrospect he was actually very emotionally present. Helped her mature. 2 years.

Age 23: A go-getter. Felt like she was constantly in competition with this guy. Unhealthy relationship, but did get her past her career slump/minor existentialism. 1 year.

Age 27: An Asian-American guy from Denver, Colorado. Enthusiastic, spontaneous, and fun-loving—but a total smart alec. 7 months.

What’s in your character’s refrigerator right now? On their bedroom floor? On their nightstand? In their bag/wallet? In their garbage can?

Fridge: Two tupperwares of banchan: kimchi and pan-fried potatoes with pepper. A carton of eggs. Leftover shrimp vindaloo from yesterday’s lunch. A drawer full of vegetables: cucumber, radish, spring onions, kale, broccoli, asparagus. A drawer full of fruits: strawberries, blueberries, apples, pears, grapes, melons. Whole milk plain yogurt. A carton of coconut water and two bottles of sparkling.

Bedroom floor: Hardwood floors and a pewter cowhide rug.

Nightstand: A lamp and a Byredo candle, Tree House scented.

Bag: iPhone, keys, wallet (+ daughter’s photo at eighteen months), two pens, a pack of mints, tissues, two hair ties, Sensai lipstick in #16, Garrett Leight sunglasses, ibuprofen, hand sanitizer, a fine-tooth comb, a few spare pads, her business card, a compact, hand lotion, band-aids, tweezers, and two flash drives.

Garbage: Banana peels and other miscellaneous food compost.

Look at your character’s feet. Describe what you see there. Does your character wear dress shoes, gym shoes, no shoes? Ratty socks, or slippers knit by grandma?

Manicured toes unpainted thank you very much under white socks under The Row white lace-up sneakers.

When your character thinks of their childhood kitchen, what smell do they associate with it?

Sesame oil comes to mind first and foremost—mom had always been liberal with it. Spice did not feature heavily in the diet as both her parents and brother had a low tolerance for it (much to the chagrin of Suha’s bolder palate), so chicken soup and other clear broth-based meals were customary.

Your character is doing intense spring cleaning. What is easy for them to throw out? What’s difficult for them to part with?

No sweat: most everything printed on A4; tabloid magazines; Christmas cards; anything that’s been relegated to the Reject portion of her closet; discolored/damaged cook and bakeware; museum pamphlets; airplane tickets; electronics; gifted perfumes

Second thoughts: cookbooks that she’s been meaning to flip through; kid’s crafts projects; baby shoes; high school mixtapes; polaroid photographs; dad’s handwritten letters, sent during her studies abroad; vintage hand-me-downs from mom

It’s Saturday at noon. What is your character doing?

Finishing up a morning bikram yoga class; picking up Saeeun from Sewon’s for some wholesome mother-daughter grocery shopping; fixing a simple lunch or cutting up fruit while Saeeun’s occupied with the iPad.

Your character is getting ready for a night out. Where are they going? What do they wear? Who will they be with?

Likely checking out the opening for a new shop or show—alone, now. Black’s the easiest and the first thing she’ll reach for until she remembers that Maison Margiela dress she’d plucked off the off-season rack last Sunday.

What is your character’s greatest regret(s)?

Not speaking up for a girl who’d been ostracized from her third grade class for having cleft lip. Not being able to provide a full family for Saeeun. Letting her marriage break down—not having done more.

Is there anything your character was/is currently obsessed with?

Speed-walking on a 5% incline on the treadmill; using her milk frother for perfect vanilla lattes; (dancing to) old bossa nova records.

What is the trait your character likes most about themselves? Likes least?

The good: integrity. Probably her guiding principle. The work relationships she fosters, the foundations for a new plan, the flatware on her table, the food she puts into her body, the specs on her car, the hairstyle she decides on for Saeeun. Everything requires a heavy dose of intentionality and integrity.  

The bad: impatience. Her tendency towards perfectionism manifests in other, less productive (re: destructive) ways. Has a hard time keeping that fuse unlit.

Does your character have any medical problems?

Suffered some hair loss back in university thanks to a crippling case of clinical depression (lost another good chunk from the anxiety wrought by the hair loss itself), but the time’s passed and her follicles are in tip-top shape along with the rest of her health.

What kind of car does your character drive?

2015 BMW 3 Series Sedan in black.

What fragrance(s) does your character use?

Imaginary Authors’ Saint Julep (2017) is the current casual go-to—sweet mint, tangerine, bourbon, and sugar cube. Her classic pick is MEMO’s Moon Fever (2007)—bitter orange, lemon, sage, vetiver, leather, and tonka bean.

Does your character own any pets?

No. But her brother and his partner own a massive chow chow named Diablo, who also happens to be the sole reason she never visits. It’s essentially wild. How they manage to keep it on a leash is beyond fathoming.

Describe your character’s educational and work background.

Education: Public school, then foreign language school. Always kept to herself. Selfishly smart, why don’t you share, kids used to say. Finally took a peek out of the shell over the course of her short-lived first relationship. Crawled out of it for good and let all hell loose after getting The Acceptance Letter, i.e. the crowning achievement of her childhood. Nearly flunked out of SNU her first year but cleaned up her act and just barely made it to Dean’s List. Her reputation at work/shining referrals thereafter landed her a place in the graduate architecture program at Cornell.

Static work history: Oh+Roh (Seoul), Partner, 2014– Oh+Roh (Seoul), Senior Manager, 2012–2014 Oh+Roh (Seoul), Senior Architect, 2009–2012 Oh+Roh (Seoul), Architect, 2008–2009 Richard Meier & Partners (NYC), Architect, 2004–2006 Richard Meier & Partners (NYC), Architectural Intern, 2003–2004 Oh+Roh Architects (Seoul), Architectural Intern, 2002–2003

What did your character grow up dreaming of becoming?

An ice cream store owner. Then a rocket scientist.

How good of a singer is your character? Dancer?

She can carry a melody, but there’s no technical finesse to her delivery. Never had time to humor afternoon noraebang trips. Solid dancing skills. Took ballet as a kid and picked up dance again after grad school as a fitness hobby.

What is your character’s political affiliation?

Left-leaning. Voted for her girl Sim Sangjung in the 2017 election.

Which countries has your character been to?

For school: USA For work: USA, Japan, China, Hong Kong, Denmark, Switzerland, France, Brazil, Mexico For leisure: USA, Japan, China, Hong Kong, France, Germany, UK, Italy, Spain

What cuisine is your character’s favorite? Dish? Dessert?

Cuisine: Mexican, Indian, Sichuan Dish: Galbi-jjim Dessert: Mango sticky rice

Does your character have a sweet tooth?

Unfortunately. Has to keep herself in check.

What genre of film does your character enjoy?

Animation. Must have been Saeeun’s doing. Before her, it’d probably been crime or action or thrillers but she also could just be making this all up.

What are some of your character’s pet peeves?

People who interrupt (hypocrite), bad table manners, slow walkers (especially the ones that refuse to walk in a straight line so it becomes impossible to pass), “irregardless” and “I could care less”, humble bragging.

What are some of your character’s bad habits?

“I told you so”, never admitting that she’s wrong or apologizing when it’s too late, pulling out her phone at any given moment.

[deercreekhubbard]

A Golf Course Unlike Any Other: How The Masters Became The Masters

When Bobby Jones won the Grand Slam — all four major tournaments in a calendar year — it included the U.S. Open, the Open Championship, The U.S. Amateur, and the British Amateur. Today the first major of the year is Jones’ own tournament, The Masters. Hosted on the course he built, Augusta National, it has become an annual American sporting tradition that transcends golf. But The Masters wasn’t always iconic, it wasn’t even always called The Masters, and it almost failed a number of times. We caught up with golf historian and Bobby Jones biographer Sidney Matthew to find out how Augusta National and The Masters went from a bankrupt passion project to a seminal part of our sporting identity.

Why did Bobby Jones build Augusta National?

Because he was tired of playing in front of crowds. He wanted a sanctuary, and he always, from early in his career, had the ambition of building the world’s greatest inland golf course.

What would make the ideal golf course in his mind?

Well, it evolved over time. As he played around the world, he collected knowledge about all of the famous golf courses. He borrowed from these golf courses, the very best features. And of course he studied golf course architecture. He wrote about it. He discoursed on it. He talked to his pals who were golf course architects, and he believed that you never really mastered golf until you try to figure out what the architect had in mind when he built the golf course. That way you would be able to play the golf course correctly, the way it was intended by the architect.

What were the world class courses Jones borrowed from?

Late in his life, Jones said, If I were to be sentenced to play on one golf course for the rest of my life, it would be the Old Course at Saint Andrews. And the reason for that is the essence of golf is adventure, and the key to adventure is variety. A golf course that provides the most adventure and the most variety provides the most enjoyment because it presents a different challenge every time you play it. The ultimate golf course would never play the same way twice two days in a row because of weather, because of conditions, because of the playing partners. Because of the way that the course may be set up with flag positions, and just the seasons, and the way the grass grows. But with Saint Andrews, it provides the most variety of any golf course that Jones had ever seen.

Jones didn’t design Augusta National alone. Why did he take on a design partner?

He chose Alister MacKenzie because MacKenzie was a kindred spirit in this notion that the Old Course is the best golf course in the world. And MacKenzie understood it, the Royal and Ancient hired him in 1921 to do a line drawing and the first competent survey of the golf course that had been done. MacKenzie was in the Boer War early on and studied the art of camouflage. He could see that the Boers were digging trenches and building embankments to hide their guns. So you’d move your troops in thinking that you were out of range and they’d blow you to bits. So he copied some of those features of camouflage in some of his golf courses. He would put a bunker 30 yards from the green but trick you into believing it was the green side.

Sort of an optical illusion to play with the mind?

Yeah. You see that today, and of course you know. MacKenzie said when you play a golf course, you should envision yourself on the forecastle of a ship than on the heavy sea. And when you’re looking at the front of the ship, you see the waves crashing at you. You see the breakers, white caps. Those are bunkers. But when you look back behind the ship, you see the rolling sea and you see no white cap. It’s all green. And when you’re on a MacKenzie course, you can see that today.

What was MacKenzie’s more general design philosophy?

MacKenzie believed that many of the broad roads will lead to destruction, narrow is the way that leads to salvation. You should build a golf course with as much variety and as many options as possible. The USGA sets up an Open golf course that you’ve got to be a marching soldier right down the middle. You’ve got to hit your drive right straight down the middle, you’ve got to hit your shot straight on the green, and you’ve got one putt or two putt. If you stray to the right or stray to the left, it’s going to cost you a shot because you’re in rough up to your ankle and will break your wrist. What that does is make a very mechanical, unimaginative golfer, because straight, straight, straight, that’s all you do. MacKenzie spawned the strategic school of golf course architecture. The penal school of architecture was old-testament thinking — if you sin, you should be punished, and there is no forgiveness, there is no redemption. That’s the way it is. The strategic school of golf course architecture said wait a second. Let’s flatten some of these bunkers out, so with a heroic shot, you should be able to redeem yourself. But it’s got to be a heroic shot. So they at least give you a chance for forgiveness and it followed the reformation. It had a religious overtone to it. So a golf course provides the most enjoyment for the highest-skill player or the lowest duffer. And that’s the variety of the adventure. That’s beautiful.

You described Jones’ reason for building Augusta National, as he wanted a sanctuary away from the crowds. Then why create this tournament?

Everyone said that Bob Jones was insane for building a golf course during the Depression. Golf courses were folding, and Augusta folded twice. The fact is that he seized on the opportunity because of the piece of ground. Jones saw the piece of property and said, That’s it. We’re going to build my dream course on this piece of property. He said it looked like this land was lying there for years waiting for a golf course to be laid on it.

But (after building it) they folded a couple of times. So (the partners) decided, Let’s see if we can hold an invitation tournament and then invite all of Bob’s pals. Surely they’ll come. And Grantland Rice said, Well, I’ll help you out. All of the sports writers go down to the [Florida] Grapefruit League [for] baseball in the winter in Florida, and I’ll tell them to come back to Augusta and report on the tournament and maybe we can bring the gate up. They also told the British press, if you guys can make it to New York, we’ll put you on a train, put you up at the Bon Air Vanderbilt, and that’s how they got the British Press to come. Of course anybody who was anybody wanted to come play at Bob Jones’ first invitational tournament. Because Bob was a national and international hero. And so everybody showed up and the gate didn’t come in. So Alfred Severin Bourne had to reach into his pocket and come up with the $5,000 purse. Then in the second year, Gene Sarazen hits the shot heard round the world on 15 and makes, and all the sports writers go crazy, and so everyone wanted to go to the next tournament in ’36 to find out what in the world’s going on in Augusta. And that’s really what kicked it off. Jones initially thought it was somewhat immodest to call it the Masters, but in 1938, Jones said, I think that it has earned the right to be called the Masters, because it continues to assemble those who are entitled to call themselves the masters of the game.

Jones won the grand slam. It included two amateur tournaments. How did the Masters come to supplant one of those?

In 1894 when the USGA was formed by the top half dozen golf clubs, amateur golf was on page one of the sports page. In Plato’s Republic the amateur athlete was the hero who was emulated by the populous. And that was true at the turn of the century. They did not have professional golf at that time. They had exhibitions. Walter Hagen was the first guy to make a living as a professional golfer in the late ‘20s.

And this is because it was viewed as being sort of undignified?

Well it was. Golfers were associated with caddies. They were not educated. They didn’t dress well. They were shagging the member’s wives. They were not allowed in the club houses. It was not looked upon as an honorable profession, and mainly because it was associated with gambling and drinking. One of the reasons Bob Jones retired in 1930 was he had more ambition than to be a professional golfer and he hated to travel. It was the horse-and-buggy era. They traveled by ship, they didn’t have private citation jets yet. It was horrible. And the biggest purses were a few thousand dollars, so, you might make a few hundred dollars. Jones had a profession. In 1928 he’s working as a lawyer for Coca-Cola, and all of the big companies wanted him as their lawyer so they could play golf with him.

So when the Masters first started, it was more of a social outing with Bob Jones to rub shoulders with Jones and all of his pals rather than a money-making thing. And it wasn’t until the later years that it became a major because of the publicity that it got, and because of the uniqueness of the golf course — a golf course unlike any other. And it continued to assemble those who were entitled to be called “the masters of the game.” Anybody who was anybody wanted to win Bob Jones’ tournament, the same way that [later] they wanted to win Arnold Palmer’s tournament. You always want to win the King’s tournament.

So I suppose we could say that the Depression sort of leveled the playing field in terms of the perspective people had on professional golfers. 

It did. Everybody had to be scrappy. Hagan was the paradigm. But Neilson, Snead, and Hogan, that triumvirate really kind of launched it. I mean, Snead goes over to Saint Andrews and he wins it in ’37, first time he ever saw it! Hogan goes over to Carnoustie in ’53, and he’s on his way, he’s won three, he’s on his way to win the grand slam, right? That he couldn’t make it back to play in the PGA was his problem. But he won Carnoustie the first time he ever saw it. So these guys became international superstars as professionals.

Later on The Masters becomes iconic — it transcends golf. It becomes an iconic sporting event. How did it become so popular?

Well, yes, the popularity became universal. People who did not play golf found that they enjoyed watching it on TV. Remember, golf was a rich man’s sport. In Great Britain, it’s a poor man’s sport. You know, it’s a common town, and everybody in town belongs to the golf course. And you don’t have to be rich to play it, the courses were public. Here they’re private, so only the rich guys could play it. But you didn’t have to play it, you could watch it, and it became extremely popular because it had this swash-buckling Errol Flynn–type character, Arnold Palmer, making these heroic displays of athleticism and looking fabulous.

But The Masters also became a singular tournament because Bob Jones and Cliff Roberts made it gentile. They made it fun for the spectators, and they raised the level of sportsmanship. In the ’60s when Jack Nicholas was overhauling Arnold, some spectators shouted out, “Miss it! Fat Jack.” Jones heard that, and he was terribly distressed. So he sat down, put pen to paper and he wrote out some suggestions for the spectators. They still hand it out today. It says, that, in the game of golf, etiquette and decorum are almost as important as the rules governing play. Most distressing are those rare occasions upon which a spectator will applaud or cheer misplays or misfortunes of a player. Although these occurrences are extremely rare, we must completely eliminate them if our patrons are going to deserve their reputation of being the most knowledgeable and considerate in the world. Now, that is a pretty high standard. But guess what? You don’t see anybody acting out. The patrons of the Masters are the most considerate and knowledgeable in the world.

Source: Men’s Journal

The post A Golf Course Unlike Any Other: How The Masters Became The Masters appeared first on Deer Creek Golf Course.

[bunkershotgolf]

2019 U.S. Hickory Open Golfers Excited About Belvedere GC

Ernie Ernst said the key element in selecting a host course for the U.S. Hickory Open, or to simply have a great hickory-shafted clubs’ tournament, is going where they want you.

“That’s Belvedere,” he said.

Historic Belvedere Golf Club in northern Michigan, which has hosted an annual Society of Hickory Golfers major championship since 2006, will host the major among the majors, the 2019 U.S. Hickory Open on June 20-22.

“Belvedere members embrace the event, and they completely shut down the course for three days allowing us to compete with complete access,” said Ernst, chairman of the U.S. Hickory Selection Committee who lives in Neenah, Wis., and winters in Phoenix.

“That’s unheard of almost anywhere else for a hickory tournament. Belvedere caused a real buzz when the application first came out. It was clear you better get online early or you were not going to get in. I guess the proof in the popularity of Belvedere was that registration filled up in just a little over two days. That’s also completely unheard of.��

The U.S. Hickory Open annually attracts an international field of golfers who play with antique pre-1935 hickory shafted golf clubs or authentic replica hickory clubs. Belvedere is the only club in the U.S. to have as many as 44 antique hickory club players. Competitors dress in period appropriate apparel, including knickers, ties and jackets. The Society of Hickory Golfers celebrates and promotes the hickory game of the 1910s – 1930s.

“Belvedere hosts a great hickory tournament, so we know the quality up there, and we know it is a tremendous historic venue and the golf pro, Marty Joy, runs a quality tournament,” said Ed Ronco, the current Society of Hickory Golfers president and a regular competitor from Wyandotte, Mich.

“Plus, you can’t beat the scenery in Charlevoix. The players and their wives are excited to go there. The club plans a great weekend for everybody with things for everybody to do in addition to the golf.”

Dennis “Marty” Joy II, the head golf professional at Belvedere and a competitor in hickory tournaments, said the club is more than excited about the U.S. Hickory Open.

“Here at Belvedere we have the most hickory society golfers of any club in the country,” he said. “We have 44 men and women who are members here who play with antique hickory golf clubs. A lot of our members will be playing in the U.S. Hickory Open.”

Conservative estimates of the total number of hickory players in the world now total about 3,000. And the number is growing. Ernst said there is growing popularity in hickory golf, and it happens in a homegrown manner.

“It’s homegrown in the sense that you don’t seek out hickory golf and say I want to play that way, but you get introduced to it,” he said. “It is not for everybody. It’s more for the person who loves the game, especially enjoys the history and hickory allows a tremendous outlet for that passion. I always tell people my love of the game got me into it, the thrill of searching for the authentic hickory-shafted clubs and fixing them up drives me to stay in it, and finally the people you meet keeps you in it. It’s a great group of people.”

Ronco first got involved in the game in 2011 and has seen steady growth.

“I fell in love with it and the biggest difference between 2011 and now is the number of tournaments you can play in has grown tremendously,” he said.

The former educator treats hickory golf like he did his craft.

“One of my goals in teaching was giving kids opportunities, and so in golf I give back by giving people opportunities to play hickory golf,” he said. “One of three things happen. They say it’s wonderful, but not for me. Or, they say it’s great and I have to do that again. Or, they get completely into it.”

Belvedere is a perfect fit for those who are all in for hickory. The Belvedere Hickory Open has been played 13 times at the course and is considered one of the four major championships by the Society of Hickory Golfers. It will not be presented in 2019 because the Open is coming to Belvedere.

Belvedere, like many of the historic courses in Great Britain, allows some limited public play during the golf season. The course was established in 1925 and designed by renowned golf course architect William Watson. It has been recognized as one of the best golf courses in the Midwest and is best known in Michigan for hosting 40 Michigan Amateur Championships. It will also host the 2025 Michigan Amateur during Belvedere’s centennial year.

In 2016, the original hand-drawn architectural plans by Watson were discovered and a two-year restoration plan returned the golf course greens, fairways and many of its tees to the original design of 1925. The changes were completed with architect Bruce Hepner’s help in time for the 2017 Belvedere Hickory Open.

Ernst said when a tournament is at Belvedere the historic grounds and clubhouse combined with the players dressed in authentic clothes transports a person to another era.

“It’s quite a sight,” he said. “Some guys wear the clothes to honor that era of golf. Others wear the clothes because they really like to dress up. The bottom line is it announces our presence. You can’t miss a group of us on the golf course.”

For information about Belvedere visit www.belvederegolfclub.com or call 231-547-2611

For information about the Society of Hickory Golfers visit www.hickorygolfers.com  

[anikasenkujo]

Meet Karan Bose!

Introduction

Name: Karan Bose OC Namesake: Karan Johar (Bollywood Film Director), Rahul Bose (Bollywood Actor) Nickname(s): Bhidu (by Anika), KB, Ranbo Age: 17 (SDC) • 28 (DIU) Gender: Cis Male [he/him] Orientation: Straight DOB: 31st July, 1970 (Leo) Personality Type: ENTJ Height: 5’10” / 178cm Nationality: Indian Hometown: Pune, Maharashtra, India Known Languages: English, Hindi, Bangla/Bengali, Marathi, French [in school], German [nonfluent], Japanese (currently learning) Affiliation: The Speedwagon Foundation (Official in Golden Wind), Stardust Crusaders, Morioh Warriors

Stand:  「 Industry Baby 」 How was the Stand Acquired: Stabbed with the Stand Arrow by DIO, along with Anika and her whole family. Occupation(s): Student (SDC) • Assistant Studio Manager at Dawn FM Records (DIU) • Head of the Speedwagon Foundation in India (as of Golden Wind) Hobbies: Singing, Dancing (Hip Hop Dancing), Cooking, Playing Chess, Reading books, Working Out

Dislikes: Overenthusiastic girls (he and Jotaro bond over this XD) (Anika is the exception), Losing, Being called “immature” when it comes to romantic choices

Relationships:-

Father: Sourab Bose [b. 1936]

Mother: Chandini Bose [b. 1936]

Sister: Shalini Bose [b. 1976]

Best friend: Anika Sen [b. December 16, 1971]

Goddaughter: Jovita Kujo

Possible F/O: Shinobu Kawajiri

Karan Bose is an Indian Stand User, having been born in Pune, Maharashtra, India, on the same day as that of Harry Potter.

His father, Sourab, is an economist in the oil industry, and his mother, Chandini, an Indian Classical Music teacher (in the field of Hindustani Classical Music).

He has a sister named Shalini who is five years younger than him and is very close. By the time DIU arc starts, she’s completed her Bachelors in Architecture, working as a Jr. Architect. His best friend is Anika Sen, whose father met Karan’s father, and they became friends-colleagues-business partners in the oil industry. Anika and he have been friends since they were born and were considered to be inseparable as kids.

Like Anika, Karan has been a victim survivor of bullying and bringing in insecurities in him, but he vowed to learn MMA from Anika's mother along with Anika..

When he, Anika and their families traveled to Egy

Fun Facts:

Since childhood, he’s been trained by his mother in Hindustani Classical Music, thus he is very very proficient in singing.

When he was young, he wasn’t physically strong, and that seemed to be not so desirable among girls and fellow classmates who liked to poke fun at him. So, one day after the music class, a group of his classmates cornered him, beat him up and mocked him, telling him to come punch them knowing well that he couldn’t.

Karan then later came up with a fantastic idea. He asked Anika for help and they ended up composing a song basically exposing these boys and girls that were bullying the both of them, and got them suspended from their high school.

This gave him a major boost in life and thus these two would compose songs with one of them being so popular that he was invited to sing in one of the Indian radio stations, although he’d always bring Anika along.

He then took to working out in the gym as a boost of confidence and ever since, this never stopped. There are girls that swarm him now but he never pays attention to them, thus enabling him to relate with Jotaro when they first meet, even when he had the fleshbud planted on him.

Karan’s favorite festival is Ganesh Chaturthi, which marks as the birthday of the Hindu god Ganesha, who’s supposed to be the god of wisdom and intelligence, the god of new beginnings and remover of obstacles. The celebration lasts for 11 days, ending with the immersion of the statue of the god in water. He and Anika would be busy making sweets, running around, playing the dholak, a two-headed hand drum, and dressing up in every way possible.

Although they completed their bachelors together, Karan wanted to pursue business, so he took up a MBA degree, then worked in a recording studio for two years, and as he went to Morioh, he met Kai Harada, RJ of Morioh Cho Radio, who had a friend who was setting up a new recording company: Dawn FM Records, for which Karan was assigned to be the Assistant Manager.

He met with Shinobu and Hayato at a children’s park, before he learned that Shinobu was married. That is when Yoshikage Kira took on the face of Kosaku Kawajiri.