#whose idea was it for grades to be due AFTER graduation

[dichromaticdyke]

time to wait in agony

[bvidzsoo]

Under the pretense (1)

The second installment of Popular boys? Overrated ♡

❝𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔢, 𝔟𝔬𝔡𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲.❞

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x female reader

🎭Warning: cursing, very slight mention of being suicidal 🎭Word count: 6.2k 🎭Genre: humor, cliché themes, 90's rom-com vibes; University!au; Popular guy!au; Sport!au; Enemies to Lovers!au 🎭Rating: nc-17 🎭Summary: What was supposed to be the best time of your life turned into something more bizarre and only slightly fun. Don't get me wrong, having to share your theater class out of the blue with popular guy Jeong Yunho, to most, didn't sound like the worst idea, but to you...yeah, you would've been more grateful if the principal found other methods of punishment for her son's misbehavior.

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I present you the start of Yunho and our MC's story, I hope it caught your attention and you'll stick around for the next two parts. You can also check out Seonghwa's, which happens in the same universe, it's in the series m.list. The taglist is open, so just lmk in whose part you'd like to be tagged. I made a visual board and playlist for the series, so check them out as I still update them! ^^ Thank you for reading and let me know what you thought of this part, I love reading your feedback! divider

Taglist: @anxiousskylar @philijack @alienvibecheck @yunhosfairy

♡ Series M.list ♡

꧁༺ Visual Board ༻꧂

♫ Playlist ♫

            I had always been a dreamer, a child with big sparkling eyes, eager to discover the world and its wonders. My parents had always considered me naïve and way too kind, but I found life easier to navigate if I remained humble and kind to those around me. I was not too fond of loud spaces and huge crowds, I would much rather prefer smaller circles where everyone came together to spend their time in silence. That’s how I discovered my elementary school’s reading club. I had been young and disoriented after a strenuous P.E. class when walking down the hallway, pushed into a door by two bigger boys as they chased each other down the hallway. The door I was slammed into wasn’t closed, so I very ungraciously fell inside a classroom in which five people sat in a circle, in silence, with books in their hands and candy on the round table. Eyes fell onto me, mostly surprised, and I blushed as I sputtered my apologies, embarrassed and wanting to hide away as I had disturbed their peace, but my curiosity got the better of me. The teacher in the room made sure I was fine and asked whether I wanted to join them when she noticed me staring longingly at the book in her hands. I didn’t say no to her.

And really, that’s how my love for literature and theatre sparked, evolving into a passion by the time I reached my high school graduation. I knew what I wanted to be, I knew what I had to do next. I had been a theatre kid my whole life, so when my mother rushed inside my room one cool summer evening with my acceptance letter in her hands, I knew my life would change in the next few seconds. Allston Hall University, the dream institution of every student who wishes to become someone important and useful in the near future. I was one of those students, tears streaming down my cheeks due to happiness when my mother read the letter, informing me that I had been accepted and was even the student with the highest grade currently. It was a dream come true, everything I have worked for, my aspirations and hard work were tangible, and I finally felt like I could release the breath of air that’s been constricting my lungs ever since I sent in my application. I was rushing towards the future I wanted, the one I had been dreaming of.

But all good things had a downside to them. Allston Hall University was huge, the biggest in our county, and it harboured various majors and many people, to the point you’d have to watch your every step in the hallways to avoid crashing into anyone. My first day, and week, had been nerve-wracking. People were loud and friendly, sometimes too friendly, to the point I felt uncomfortable in their presence and had to excuse myself to take a moment of solitude. Despite being a theatre kid myself, I felt like the odd one in my circle of people, the one that didn’t fully belong, the one that was a bit different. Everyone around me was outgoing and boisterous, eager to be heard, and even more eager to make more friends. I was quiet and curious, but I liked watching people from the sidelines, assessing a situation from afar before jumping into anything. I liked to meet new people, but I struggled to find common ground with them. I never had many friends growing up, most were surface-level, but the one true friend I did have decided to move counties and start working, instead of following an academic path. There was nothing wrong with that, but our time was limited together and she rarely visited, our friendship has transformed into a long-distance one.

But, to my utmost surprise, I didn’t stay friendless at this huge university for too long. As an extracurricular, I have picked up a Visual Arts class since I have been always interested in it. The class was small and filled with people who dressed better than in any fashion magazine I had seen, all of them having a peculiar aura that I seemed to enjoy a lot. And, to my surprise, they were more like me than my own colleagues. They were quiet, mostly sticking to themselves with big headphones on as they bobbed their heads to the music, briefly greeting you once you entered the classroom. They were mostly art majors, but they didn’t make me feel bad for not being one. A passion was a passion, and they didn’t make fun of you for loving what you loved. However, even here, it seemed that there was someone who wasn’t like the others, someone who was loud and energetic, always laughing and joking with students and professors alike. She was like a happy virus, her happy disposition contagious, and without realizing it at first, I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Perhaps it was because we were complete opposites, unlike my closest friend who thought and viewed the world similarly to me, but with Wendy everything seemed to feel like a new experience.

I couldn’t tell when it happened when the two of us became best friends, but it’s been a year since and we were almost inseparable. Wendy loved spending her free time with me, humming to herself and drawing while I wrote sonnets and read through the next play we’d be going through or even performing with Mrs. Jeong. Wendy felt like a fresh breeze, ready to yank me away from my monotonous days, eager to experience something new. I hated amusement parks, but I went to one with her and had the fun of my life, having never screamed or laughed as much as that afternoon. Wendy couldn’t skate, but one snowy evening, I took her to the skating ring and taught her how to find her balance, and through baby steps, she became even better than me. Wendy loved visual arts but she never understood the charm of a book, a play, or a poem, so I brought her along to the reading club I had been frequenting since my freshman year in high school, and it was an unforgettable experience for the both of us, but Wendy concluded that perhaps literature just wasn’t for her. Much similar to my experience, when I let her drag me to Allston Hall’s first baseball game of the year, all excited and giddy to see her favourite players, only for me to conclude at the end of the game that the sport held no interesting elements for me to find likeable or enjoyable, baseball just wasn’t invented for me.

So yes, Wendy and I were opposite sides of the same coin, eager to learn more and discover the world through our own lenses while dragging the other after ourselves. This would explain why we were currently decked out at the bleachers, sitting at the lowest spot as Wendy’s eyes followed the boys while they played a friendly game and warmed up for their very soon upcoming game. Wendy was athletic and loved to get in a good morning run, which she usually did outside the bleachers to catch a peek of when the boys would go in to exercise. It was embarrassing at first, to walk in every second day with her and have the boys gawking at us, but now it was plainly amusing to see Wendy fall over herself whenever one of them acknowledged her. Her father had been a player in a smaller league, so Wendy grew up in the sport, hence her immense love for it. She was convinced the boys on the University’s team were undiscovered gems and she made sure to stick around them until one of them finally asked her out. She thought I didn’t know, but it was rather obvious that her eyes were set on Byun Baekhyun, the biggest trickster on the team with a notorious grip that could send any batter into a spiral when he’d pitch—these were Wendy’s words, not mine.

I continued flipping through the shortened version of Pride and Prejudice as we would soon do a small audition to see who got which role. Mrs. Jeong wanted to do something special and new this year, so there have been added elements to the play—ones that would send Jane Austen into an existential crisis, in my opinion, but Mrs. Jeong likes to think out of the box and considers herself an innovative person—which I agree with, but the play would’ve been best without the modifications done to it. Wendy, sitting in front of me as I had taken the bench between my legs, hunched over my play, sighed dreamily and tapped her fingers against her chin. She was usually a very loud person, but surprisingly she knew when to remain silent, when to give me space and tranquillity to be able to enjoy my reading time. Her short hair stuck to her nape as she decided to run an extra lap this morning, on the verge of hyperventilating when she finally ran inside the arena, spotting me easily as I was the only person in the bleachers while the boys did their warm-ups. Her bag was with me and I knew she refrained from sprawling out on the ground just because Baekhyun was watching her, so I handed her the water bottle with an amused smile. Wendy took it with gratitude and sprinkled some on her face and neck before she took a small sip, chest still heaving from her run.

“That was very sexy of you,” I said with a chuckle as she settled next to me, trying to regulate her breaths as she caught Baekhyun’s eyes, cheeks flushing even deeper as he waved in our direction. Wendy fumbled with her water bottle for a second, then eagerly waved back and pushed my thigh with her elbow to acknowledge Baekhyun as well. I flashed him a smile and gave him a curt nod, which he returned before the coach blew his whistle and called out his name to get him to focus again.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Wendy mumbled, grabbing her towel out of her bag, “my throat was parched and my brain felt like it was overheating.”

“When will you stop finding ways to kill yourself?” I raised an eyebrow and Wendy gave me a look of confusion.

“I’m just pushing my limits, nothing you have to worry about.” Wendy shrugged, taking a sip of her water again, “You know I’m training for the marathon.”

“Right, I almost forgot.” I fixed Wendy with a stare, rather unimpressed as it was impossible to forget that she was training for next month’s marathon. She speaks of it daily, around the same time after she finishes her run and complains about being on the verge of passing out, I’m sure there are other ways of training yourself for a marathon that don’t involve putting too much pressure on yourself and sending your body into despair as it clings to life—a bit dramatic, but that’s what being a theatre kid made of me.

This was half an hour ago, and now Wendy had completely settled down as she was leaned back on her hands, gazing out onto the field as I blocked out the sound of a bat hitting the ball every few minutes, enraptured by the play as I imagined Mr. Darcy standing in front of me, thick eyebrows furrowed and eyes shining with confusion as Miss Elizabeth—me—tells him that he cannot disrespect her whole family and look down on her, and then expect her to fall to her knees and accept his affections. The language was a lot more modern than the one Jane Austen had used, this is where Mrs. Jeong’s crafting comes into play and makes me cringe as Elizabeth is supposed to tell Mr. Darcy that ‘she won’t throw herself at him like every other bitch’, I just knew Jane Austen was rolling in her grave at the atrocity that’s been done to her masterpiece. I could try and convince Mrs. Jeong to modify that part, hopefully, as she’s rather keen on me due to how seriously I take her classes. Cheers erupted on the field and they increased in volume as Wendy gasped next to me, holding her hands together as she was on the verge of shooting up from her seat. The boys were merely training, yet Wendy treated it like a real game every time she got the chance.

“Oh, that’s a home run—” Wendy’s voice was strained, and she sprang up from her spot as the whole team exclaimed, making me lose my train of thought as I couldn’t focus in loud surroundings, “Seungkwan just hit a home run!”

I looked out towards the field as the boys crowded around Seungkwan, forming a circle as they made howling sounds and jumped around, making Seungkwan cackle loudly as he basked in the attention. He was a rather uptight guy, but out on the field, he was simply amazing although he’s never managed to hit a home run until now.

“Oh, this is amazing,” Wendy mused, her eyes sparkling as she clapped away, showing the boys thumbs-up as they turned our way to bow, pushing Seungkwan to the front as he grinned widely, “They’ll ace the next game, Y/N, I can feel it deep in my bones.”

I chuckled but said nothing as I knew this meant a lot to Wendy, and only grabbed her arm to make her sit down when the coach threw her an irritated look. They couldn’t kick us out because we weren’t doing anything illegal or interrupting their training, but I knew the coach wasn’t too fond of two girls always lingering around the bleachers to distract his boys. Not that it was our attention, but I have caught them busy ogling us instead of doing their warm-ups. Wendy was buzzing as she sat down, chewing her bottom lip before she started chewing her nails, making me grip her wrist to stop her as I knew she did it subconsciously. She gave me a grateful smile and I turned back to my play as the boys had calmed down too, going back to their friendly game.

“Do you want to stay for longer?” I asked as I flipped to the next page, eyebrows furrowing as it was Mr. Darcy’s monologue that wasn’t in the original work, “I think I could make use of a coffee right now.”

“Can’t we stay for another fifteen minutes at least?” Wendy asked with a pout, her sparkly eyes widening as I gave her an unimpressed look, “Yunho is up for pitching right now and then it’s Baekhyun again, I promise we can leave once he’s done.”

I sighed but knew I wouldn’t drag my best friend away before she got to watch Baekhyun pitch again, so I just nodded and threw a quick glance at the field. Indeed, player number 04 was up for pitching, Jeong Yunho. His name didn’t leave a distaste in my mouth as I, thankfully, had never had to interact with him, but it was inevitable to know who he was with how huge his reputation had gotten over the last year. We started out at university at the same time, he’s been a baseball player since he was just a child, and he was rising in the ranks rather quickly. He was amazing, even as someone who still didn’t understand how baseball worked, I knew he was good at what he did and he was often praised for his skills. He was the best pitcher the team had—the university has had for ages, at least based on the coach’s words—and he carried himself like a successful athlete would, always smiling brightly with his warm eyes twinkling with mischief-ridden in them.

Sure, Jeong Yunho had a warm and perceiving aura, friendly and even kind, but even those couldn’t stop the rumours spreading of him being a heartthrob. Better said, he was a womanizer. He appeared to be this soft and puppy type of guy, sweeping girls off their feet with his acts of service and soft-spoken nature, but just as quickly as he wrapped them around his fingers, he dropped them without his ‘kind’ smile breaking from his lips, eyes even teary when he told them that he just wasn’t right for them, that they deserved someone better. Behind his innocent mask lay a man who enjoyed playing with others and using them to his liking with a deceiving smile and excuses that didn’t make sense upon another thought. But many girls didn’t care about the rumours, they thought they were simply fake because certainly the sweet and kind Jeong Yunho couldn’t be like that, not with them at least. And that is exactly how they go their hearts broken by the most sought out playboy of our university, from the baseball team at least. The soccer team was even worse, you’d never hear the end of how cool and mysterious Park Seonghwa was. Personally, I preferred my peace of mind and stayed away from both.

I heard the bat collide against the ball with a loud bang, and I could tell it was a strong hit as the boys ‘oohed’, but Wendy just gasped, stiffening in her seat. I paid it no mind as she reacted to every single thing the players did, living in the moment and giving her all to the game—even if just friendly. But some exclaimed alarmed and tried to warn us—or me—of something, but I was too busy ignoring them as my irritation levels were rising. I just really wanted a cup of coffee and silence to be able to finish reading the play before my class later today.

“Y/N!” Wendy’s shrill exclamation made my head snap up, taking in her wide eyes as she gesticulated, only confusing me more. Turning my head to the right, to see what got the boys reacting like that as well, my own eyes widened into saucers when I realized a white small ball was hurling at my face rather quickly. I knew I could dodge it, it wasn’t too late yet, but I felt blindsided as I stared at it, accepting the fact that it would either break my nose or give me a black eye. But someone was moving on the field, had been for a few seconds now, running full speed towards me and the ball. And before it could collide against my face and ruin it, a black glove was in my face, so close that if I puckered my lips, it would’ve touched the fabric. My heart was beating fast and I stared up at the person who caught the ball with wide eyes, exhaling loudly as Wendy yelped and shot up from her seat again.

For a second, it was completely silent, even the coach stood staring at us with an open mouth, whistle threatening to fall from it, but the boys on the field suddenly started howling once again, yelling and calling out my ‘saviour’s’ name. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed as his cheeks were rosy from the bite of frost of the morning air, but also from having pitched for the last few minutes. I could feel my own cheeks tinge red from the adrenaline and also from the way the guy’s warm chocolate eyes seemed to melt into mine. Yunho looked pleased that he managed to catch the ball, and his fingers closed around it as he lowered his hand and leaned down a little. My back was rigid as I couldn’t help but blink at him wordlessly, gripping the play tightly in my hands.

“Are you okay?” His eyebrows furrowed more, and his face was ridden with worry as he searched for eye contact. I gulped and averted my eyes, exhaling shakily.

“Yes,” I took a tentative glance at Yunho and cleared my throat, “thank you.”

“I’m sorry.” My eyebrows furrowed as he looked apologetic, biting his bottom lip which was cherry red and plump, “I positioned my arm wrong and I was distracted when I pitched, I almost hurt you.”

“Oh, uhm,” I stared at him for a few seconds as I felt Wendy sit back down and subtly nudge my arm, “It’s fine, you managed to catch it so—good job?”

Yunho chuckled, and I was taken aback by how high-pitched it sounded and how warm his tone was, cheeks puffy and rosy, and definitely giving him this sweet and innocent aura, “Glad to be your saviour despite putting you in harm's way myself.”

I hummed as I found myself lost for words, all the acting classes I had taken flying out the window. There was something about his gaze that made me feel small, made me forget how to articulate my words, “Best if it doesn’t happen again, right?”

Yunho chuckled and I felt embarrassed, but he didn’t look like he meant bad, he seemed simply amused. I was sure he could tell I was flustered and that only made me feel more embarrassed, “Right, I’ll try to keep my eyes off you next time then, focus more on pitching.”

Wendy gasped next to me as I just stared at Yunho dumbfounded, trying not to let my confusion show at the sudden change of events. Well, I was under the impression nobody paid me any mind as I never really paid them any mind, I was here for Wendy and it was pretty obvious.

“Are you reading a play by any chance?” Yunho asked as he looked down at my lap, and I cleared my throat, feeling hesitant as I nodded my head.

“Yeah, Pride and—”

“Pride and Prejudice,” He smiled sweetly, his eyes hidden by his baseball cap, “my favourite.”

I knew Wendy wanted to scream and jump up and down, but she was doing a good job of remaining put and silent. For some reason, Yunho didn’t pass me as the person who would pick up a book, let alone a play, to read, so I just gave him a tight smile and an unimpressed look. I had heard the rumours, and I was sure they were true, I didn’t want to fall for his schemes.

“Right.” My tone was a bit sharp and I knew it took him off guard because his eyebrows twitched, “Aren’t you supposed to be pitching?”

And as if the coach had heard my words, he blew his whistle loudly and shouted, “Jeong, get back on the field!”

Yunho bit his lower lip and grabbed his cap as he nodded his head, winking at me before he was jogging back onto the field, making me grimace. Wendy’s eyebrows were raised and she had a suggestive smile on her face, but I just sighed and shook my head, deciding that I wanted to have coffee now, “We both know he sleeps with every girl and then dumps them right after, so before you get even started, I’m not interested in him at all.”

“But he’s so handsome and tall.” Wendy sighed dreamily and I chuckled, standing up.

“There are plenty of tall and handsome guys at our university, I’ll find myself a decent one, thank you very much.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get my coffee.”

“But Baekhyun hadn’t pitched yet.”

I chuckled as Wendy whined, rooted to her place as I got off the bench.

“Meet me at the coffee shop then, I have class in an hour so don’t stay for long.”

“I love you! Save me a seat by the window!”

I chuckled and nodded, waving Wendy off as she focused on the game again, eyes wide and attentive. I kept to the side of the field so that I wouldn’t be in anyone’s way and walked quickly so that I could be out of the arena swiftly, without angering the coach. Wonwoo, who was the left fielder, threw me a quick smile and I waved at him as I passed by, feeling eyes on the back of my head. I didn’t turn around to check who it was as the coach had spotted me and narrowed his eyes at me. I bowed my head and then slipped out of the arena, less stressed and happier now that I was about to get my caffeine fill of the day.

             The rest of my day had gone well, and I was more than excited to attend my last class of the day, drama class. We’d hold the rest of our courses at the small theatre of the University as Mrs. Jeong wanted us to focus on the upcoming play only, assignments already handed out as our final grade now depended on finishing it on time and also delivering our best in the play, the two grades turning into our final score. I happily skipped down the stairs of the theatre and greeted a few of my colleagues as I settled not too far from the front rows, somewhere in the middle of the row. I liked sitting by myself so that nobody could distract me while Mrs. Jeong gave us advice and coached us on how to deliver the lines, when to put emotion in it and just how much of it. I placed my coat on the chair on my right and left my backpack on the floor as I leaned down to unzip it and grab the play, my yellow notebook, a black pen and a green marker. I heard the door of the theatre close and open loudly, then running down the stairs and shuffling as I straightened up, trying to organize my things in my lap as I waited for Mrs. Jeong to show up.

To my surprise, there was movement on my left and I looked over, curious of who decided to sit right next to me when there were numerous empty seats in the theatre, only to find Jeong Yunho staring back at me with a surprised expression similar to mine on his face.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hey I know you, hi!”

Yunho and I spoke at the same time as I heard the girls sitting a few rows in the back behind us whisper and giggle to each other. Yunho flushed as he pushed his leather jacket off his wide shoulders and settled quietly in the seat next to mine. I continued staring at him with confusion as his legs spread out wide, his head turning to face me.

“You’re the girl from this morning,” Yunho said as he disregarded my question, “I actually see you around the field often, do you like baseball?”

“No.” I deadpanned and Yunho’s enthusiasm died out at once, smiling unsure, “My friend loves baseball so I tag along with her sometimes.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” Yunho’s smile became more confident as his eyes took in my features, making me feel a bit uncomfortable, “And how are you?”

“I’m—fine.” I still didn’t understand what he was doing here, but I wasn’t about to be rude to him, “And you?”

Yunho’s smile widened into a grin, and he threw a short glance behind us when the girls started giggling louder, “Rather good knowing you’re here too. Why are you here?”

I tried to refrain from sighing at his not-so-subtle flirting and occupied my hands as I grabbed my marker and fiddled with it, “I’m a drama major, Yunho.”

Yunho’s eyes widened for a small fraction, cheeks flushing, “Oh, that sounds lovely, I—sorry, I’m just taken aback that you know my name.”

I didn’t mean to glare at him, but he was bad at playing the abashed and shy boy persona, perhaps a few acting courses wouldn’t do him bad, “You’re on the baseball team and I have gone to almost every game of yours, so I think it’s only natural I know everyone’s name on the team, no?” I didn’t let him answer me as I gave him a scrutinizing look, “Besides, you’re quite famous for breaking the hearts of the girls you go out with, right?”

Now, I could tell he was actually flustered as he averted his eyes, biting his bottom lip as the flush from his cheeks spread to his ears too. Yunho’s dark hair was messy and wavy, and he wore his glasses now. The black turtleneck made him look comfy and safe, his dark jeans complementing his long legs nicely.

“Ah, those are just rumours, you shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” He rubbed his nape and looked back at me, “I’m sorry, I never caught your name.”

I sighed and thought about whether I should tell him, but it was only right since I knew his name and didn’t want to look like a prick, “It’s Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He grinned widely and extended his hand to shake, “I’m Yunho, but you know that already.”

I hummed and took his hand, a little surprised by how long his fingers were and how much bigger his palm was, it made me blush as I carefully pulled my hand out of his, busying myself with my marker, “So, what are you doing here? It’s a bit weird seeing a sports major here, you know.”

Yunho groaned and I glanced at him to see him rubbing his forehead, “Don’t even tell me about it, it’s completely against my will, if I’m being honest. Not that I hate the theatre or anything, but I’d be much rather doing something else.”

“Well, you can just get up and walk out before the professor comes, you know,” I suggested, nodding my head towards the exit, but Yunho had a solemn look on his face. He let his hands fall in his lap as he intertwined his fingers.

“Actually, I can’t.” He pouted, and I tried not to think of him as a manchild, it wasn’t very appealing, “You see, I might have done something that was against the rules, and this is basically my punishment if I don’t want to lose my scholarship, or worse, get kicked out. I mean, my career would be ruined before I even had the chance to start it, you know?”

I nodded, pretty much on board with what he was saying, “Yeah, that makes sense. Well, it sucks but I still don’t understand why drama class out of all classes they could’ve punished you with.”

“Ugh, right?! Don’t even get me started on it,” Yunho rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses as he licked his lips, turning his body to face mine, “Like, the principal is totally crazy for placing me in this class! I don’t know why she thought a little play-pretending would fix my attitude—her words, not mine—but it certainly won’t. Like, whatever I did wasn’t even that serious, it’s the fact that the stupid professor can’t take a joke, I didn’t even sleep with his daughter!”

So, this is who the real Jeong Yunho was, unfiltered, and apparently, not as perfect and charming as everyone thought him to be. I chuckled, amused that he’d have to suffer through our drama classes because I knew the outsiders always viewed us as crazy whenever they stumbled through the doors of the theatre, “And how long until your punishment is over?”

“This whole semester, can you believe it?” Yunho sounded annoyed, but his face remained void of any annoyance as he slumped in his chair, looking defeated, “I swear to God, the principal was high on some shit when she threatened to throw me out if I didn’t heed her orders. It’s like—I know she’s my mother but we’re at school, for fuck’s sake! Like—this is university, she can’t punish me like I’m some sort of five-year-old, no?!”

I covered my mouth to try and hide my amusement at his outburst, which got other students chuckling. I meant to answer him, but a rather loud scoff coming from the first row caught everyone’s attention as suddenly they stood, whirling around, hands on their hips. My amusement died down as my eyes widened, staring at Mrs. Jeong in surprise, I didn’t know she was there, I thought she was running late.

“Oh, really, young man?” Her sharp eyes narrowed, and I watched from the corner of my eyes as Yunho’s own widened, mouth falling open, “You think you’re here because I believed whatever that professor accused you of? No, you’re here because you promised me you’d stop fooling around, yet here we are!”

“Mom?” Yunho seemed pale as Mrs. Jeong glared him down, he turned to me with a desperate look on his face, “What’s she doing here?!”

He whisper-shouted as Mrs. Jeong scoffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest. I felt a bit awkward and put on the spot as I nodded in acknowledgement at her, then faced her son, “Mrs. Jeong is the head of our department.”

Yunho’s eyes widened comically and I chuckled as I bit my lower lip, “Uhm, did you not know that your mother is the head of the drama club and department?”

“No!” Yunho whisper-shouted and eyed his mother, who had started to grin in contentment. I could see the resemblance in the two as I looked between the mother and son, their smiles were the same and their cheeks were puffy and almost always rosy. Mrs. Jeong was a lovely and compassionate woman, it sometimes made me wonder why Yunho had such little respect for women when his mother must’ve raised him right.

“If you’re done parading yourself, son, I’d like to start my class, thank you very much.” Mrs. Jeong raised her eyebrows and Yunho grumbled something under his breath as he slipped lower in his chair.

“Sorry, Mrs. Jeong.” He avoided eye contact with his mother and Mrs. Jeong smiled in victory, eyes taking in the place as she counted how many there were of us. I smiled at her when her eyes fell on me and she returned it, clapping her hands once she was done.

“Good, I see more of you joined us—I didn’t count my son in—I hope you’re all ready to rehearse for the play before the auditions, and I’m more than eager to help you all out. Today, I’d like to highlight some of the culminant points of the play and discuss the acting techniques they should be delivered with.” Mrs. Jeong intertwined her hands behind her back and nodded before she went to grab her own copy of the play. Yunho looked helpless as he glanced around the room, sighing long as he peered down at my lap over my shoulder.

“Uh, can you share yours with me?” He grumbled, not so smiley anymore, “I didn’t know what we’d be doing today, I’ll bring my play for the next class.”

“Just this once,” I said with a pointed look and put my copy of the play between us, “I don’t like to share and I like to sit alone, just so you know in the future.”

“All alone?” Yunho asked curiously, “Don’t you like sharing?”

“I like my peace of mind and quiet.” I answered, raising my eyebrows at him, “And I really like to be left alone, Yunho, so don’t try to distract me.”

“Okay,” He whispered as he flipped through the pages, making me give him a small glare, “I’ll be silent, but don’t expect me to survive this whole semester if you ignore me the whole time.”

“Go make friends, I’m sure the girls behind us are more than eager to sit with you,” I muttered with a roll of my eyes, and Yunho grinned as he leaned slightly closer.

“Is that a hint of jealousy—”

“Mr. Jeong,” Mrs. Jeong snapped and we both looked at her alarmed, she was frowning at her son, “Leave Miss Lee alone, yes? Or I’ll make sure to fail you in this class—”

“But mom!” Yunho whined, sitting up straight as he leaned forward, “You can’t do that, I’m not even registered for this class!”

“Really?” Mrs. Jeong chuckled, “Aren’t you?”

“You did not.”

“Oh, trust me, I did.”

Yunho’s mouth fell open in shock, and I had to turn my head to hide my silent laugh as Yunho turned into a whining manchild once again, “You will behave in my class, young man, and you’ll let Miss Lee be, understood?”

“Understood, Mrs. Jeong.” Yunho grumbled under his breath and looked down, a grimace on his face as he muttered something to himself, “I can’t even skip class now, for fuck’s sake.”

A laugh slipped through as I gave Yunho another amused smile and then grabbed my marker, way too amused by how things were turning out to be. Yunho didn’t look too amused but Mrs. Jeong did, and she spoke up with a smile on her face, asking us to flip to the thirteenth page of our play.

I could only hope Jeong Yunho, the Casanova, wouldn’t ruin one of my favourite classes for me.

❱❱ Next act

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[bezetka]

What a year, huh?

Since some of you may be wondering about my absence, I thought that a short update post like this would be in place.

I'll start by establishing what's new: I can proudly say now that after five long years I've graduated art school, thus reaching one of the biggest milestones in my life so far. As you can guess, senior year was somewhat rough in the aspect of all of the grades I had to keep up and exams I had to take, but also my art diploma I spent a whole year in the making.

And so, the reason of my dead social media begins to surface: with so many things to take care of, I simply lacked the time or energy to post any updates (...Not to mention that the diploma I was making consumed almost all of my free time and I made like maximum three digital paintings in the span of past year...).

Despite it all, I never lost interest in the fandom I'm still in. I've been here for every CRK update, occasionally doodling some characters when I found the time and hyping myself up. Some drawings piled up, and in due time I'll post the most valuable ones of it all 👀

My art style has quite evolved since then, and soon you'll be able to see the fruits of all this timespan. Since summertime is coming and I can finally relax in a way, I'll make sure to post updates frequently. I've also made a promise to myself to be somewhat more active on platforms such as Tumblr or Twitter, 'cause the last time I was online I didn't quite catch the essence of these platforms... Oops

So, you can @ me all your heart desires, message me or flood me with your ideas. It may be a big AMA to be honest... And I want to spend more time interacting with my followers here 😌

I've got some plans in mind regarding my social profiles, but I'll keep it all simple for now. With college prep ahead of me I've still got a variety of things to work on, but hey. Whose life isn't packed with big changes, especially if more than a year had passed?

If you've read up to this point, thanks for listening to my blabbering!! I know I've got a small bunch of followers right now, but sharing my artwork with even a handful of people that have the same interests as me really motivates me. Have a good day now :))

[chris-mga2022mi6011]

[CB-032] Developing on the Character Bible

What is a Character Bible, and how do I create one?

Following the article on how to achieve a character bible, I filled in the following:

Appearance:

A creature that looks like it evolved from a volcano, magma dripping from his body, some magma in his body which cools and turns to crystals, there are crystals that form around his body, especially in the back.

Backstory:

Before the creature was formed, as a human he lived a normal life just like other humans lived an ordinary life. Although he still lives with his parents, in California, as he is so close to them, and also because they are his biggest strength, who taught him to live a saintly life from childhood. He didn’t have much friends that he could hang out with or a girlfriend as he was not interested in relationships. As a child he was bullied in school but he wouldn’t show any reaction to the forces of his peers, he would want to help friends always, even the elderly. He was a bright kid in class even achieves amazing grades and awards at the graduation.

Personality Traits:

When the character sees someone in need of help, even in a simple situation, he would offer them, without consulting or thinking twice. Another trait of the character is that, he tries his best to stay away from most people so as to avoid any conflicts between any, and thinking that there could be violence with arguments.

Moral & Spiritual Beliefs:

As mentioned earlier, he thinks and believes that by doing good to other is the right things to do. Seeking for a world that is with good hearted people, he thinks by his doing these would encourage other also to do so.

Emotional Range & Behaviors:

He usually don't get emotional, if he has any personal issue he wouldn't want to talk to anyone about it, he thinks it would make the other person feel uncomfortable. He use to be an introvert character but after exposing to the society he overcame that.

Fears and Misbeliefs:

There came a time during school, when he was falsely accused of a wrongdoing, he was accused of drawing unwanted drawings in the toilet walls, and ever since then his classmates would make fun of him, even his close friends would not treat him right, this has made him feel shy.

Talents, Skills, and Abilities:

As previously said the character is a talented person in school, and is bright in all subjects. His favourite areas of study are science and geography. He even won couple of awards in his school's athletic events.

Likes and Dislikes:

The character prefers to be alone most of the time and usually do not like to be disturbed.

Hobbies, Interests, and Passions:

During his free time he tries to learn something new through any means. In the story, the character finds his mission interesting as it's something new to him, hence he does ton of research specially about this volcano.

Current Situation:

Currently, he along with other workers are tasked to undergo an investigation in a local area in China to find out the situation with an unusual volcano. Due to this he is away from his parents for some time until the mission is over. They all are taken on a plane to China, after a couple of days they arrive in the eastern side of China where the volcano is situated.

What They Want Most:

His goal in the story is to complete his mission, make the environment for those people to live healthy in the environment once again.

What They Need:

In the story, the character wants to help those people, but he, alongside with his coworkers, needs time to achieve answers to complete this mission.

Secrets:

There was a time in his childhood, he had stolen from his friend a toy, he has never seen a toy like such, the kid whose toy was stolen from, till this day has no idea who might have stolen it. Their class teacher has seen this act, but hasn't told anyone, it's been a secret between the two, but later the teacher took the toy and gave it to its owner, announced to the classroom that it was found at the back of the classroom.

Worldview:

He sees the world as breaking, he thinks it's filled with unjustly people among which are people who are innocent in heart. He wishes to see the world a better place.

Insecurities & Sensitivities:

One insecurity the character used to experience as a kid was that he was an introvert, he felt left out as a kid, which would alert his sensitivity, which made him want to overcome his introversion.

[snelbz]

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 9}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

A @snelbz X @theladyofdeath collaboration.

Word Count: 3378

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist 

***Announcement! *** After the completion of I’ll be Seeing You and Tempting the Fates, all of Tara and I’s joint fanfiction will be posted on a separate blog that we run together > @snacmc. Be sure to follow the new blog as we will start posting on there soon!

Hestia

– Goddess of the hearth, home and family

Mondays and Wednesdays always seemed to drag.

Thanks to her lack of Rowan in class, Aelin’s classes were boring and she found herself thinking of other things, rather than the notes she was supposed to be taking. Like the way Rowan’s eyes had been on her as she went down on him in the shower earlier than morning.

At his insistence, she’d begun using his shower for more than just sex purposes, as she’d so eloquently explained to him the week before. She was regularly staying over, getting ready for her own classes in the morning, just as he was. But whenever one of them followed the other into the tiled shower, it was used for practical reasons.

As well as sexual ones.

Suppressing a whine as she thought of the way Rowan had pinned her up against the cool tiles that morning, Aelin crossed her legs and checked her watch. Only another twenty minutes and then she had her break between classes. She wasn’t hungry, thanks to the protein bar she’d eaten just before this class started, and she was close to the gen ed building, so she decided she would drop by her mythology professor’s office. She had a few questions about the homework he’d assigned yesterday and face-to-face was always better to her than an email.

Once her anatomy professor was wrapping up, Aelin was tossing her books into a bag and hauling ass across campus. Rowan’s last class was wrapping up, too, and she didn’t want to miss him before he hurried off to do whatever else.

She could’ve texted him to stay put, but she didn’t want to ruin the surprise.

She made it to his building and dodged by those who were hurrying off to their other classes or their beds, and stopped at Rowan’s office door before giving it a halting knock.

It took him a second to answer, but when he did, he was handsome as ever.

His shirt sleeves were rolled up, the button down tucked into his trousers. When he saw it was Aelin at his office door, a silver brow lifted.

“Aelin,” he began, clearing his throat. “How may I help you?”

“I have some questions about the homework,” she began, voice low, even though no one else was around. “Can I come in for a second?”

Rowan moved aside before she had finished her question. With one last glance down the hall he shared with a few other first-year professors, he shut the door, sealing them into his office. The blinds were open, but on the third floor, it wasn’t like anyone could see the private meeting he and his student were about to have.

Even if he didn’t know what kind of meeting it was about to be.

“Are you on your lunch break?” She asked, leaning back against his desk.

He nodded. “Didn’t plan on taking lunch, but I’ve got a couple hours before my next class. Was going to work on some grading. Why?”

He had stepped closer, pausing beside one of the chairs he kept in front of the desk for students to sit in.

Aelin clearly had other ideas of where to sit though. With a smirk, she reached out and lightly gripped his shirt, pulling him towards her.

“You had questions about the homework,” he breathed, leaning away as she tried to kiss him.

It wasn’t that he wouldn’t kiss her. He just wanted to see her squirm.

And squirm, she did. “You know very well that I turned in the homework yesterday afternoon.”

She tried to kiss him again, but he fell away, even though his arms were around her waist.

“I don’t recall that,” he taunted. “Maybe you could remind me.”

“I turned it in just before I did this,” she crooned, and her lips found his.

Aelin kissed him, slowly, her arms snaking around his neck. She swore she would never tire of the feeling of his mouth on hers.

“Oh yeah,” Rowan muttered, against her lips. “Now I remember.”

It only took him a second to grab her hips and set her on top of his desk.

There was a clattering of something tipping over, probably a cup of pens or paper clips from the sound of it, but neither of them cared. Not as he gripped the outside of her thigh where her legs were wrapped around him, or her hand found its way into his hair. He was both frustrated and very glad she’d worn leggings today. While he wished she was wearing something with a bit easier access, it was probably a blessing in disguise that he couldn’t get his hand between her legs.

Or his mouth.

Or any other body parts.

That wasn’t stopping Aelin from rubbing against him, looking for friction, as their tongues battled and teeth occasionally clashed. She let out a quiet moan and he tugged on her hair, pulling her lips from his.

“We’re not fucking in my office,” he breathed, looking her in the eyes. “It is way too dangerous.”

She nodded, knowing and accepting the fact, but it didn’t mean she was done kissing him.

“Was this morning not enough?” He smirked, trailing his lips down her throat instead of returning to hers.

“It’s never enough,” she gasped. “Every time I’m away from you…”

Her words trailed off as their lips met. It was true. It was never enough. She was so fulfilled with Rowan, and the second he was gone, she longed for him.

“Come over tonight,” Aelin begged. “Stay with me tonight.”

Rowan groaned as his tongue slipped between her lips.

They stayed at Rowan’s nearly every night. The only times Aelin stayed at her own apartment was when she had an exam or homework she had to work on, without Rowan distracting her. Lysandra and Aedion had met Rowan over dinner a few nights before, though Aelin had insisted take out was much more her friends’ speed than a fully home cooked meal. However, Aelin had a lab due the following morning, so after dinner, Rowan had gone back home.

Alone.

“We have class tomorrow,” he replied, lips still on hers.

“So we’ll make sure we get up early.” Dragging her teeth across his jaw, she gripped his shoulders. “Bring over everything you’ll need to come straight to class.”

Rowan hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“We don’t live on campus,” Aelin said, quietly. “It’s not like I live somewhere surrounded by students.”

Rowan pulled back and met her gaze. “It’s important to you?”

Aelin nodded, arms still wrapped around the back of his neck. “I love being cooped up in your apartment. I really do. But, sometimes I wanna be cooped up somewhere else, too.”

Rowan huffed a laugh. “Alright.”

“Yeah?” Aelin asked, a soft smile painted across her light pink lips.

Rowan couldn’t help his own smile forming as he leaned forward and pulled Aelin closer to him as he kissed her, softly. They went on like that, dwelling in those slow, prolonged kisses. There was something personal, something exceptional about a long, slow kiss. Something sensual that made Aelin’s stomach feel like it was going to explode, even though it lacked that animalistic passion they had come to find within one another.

A quick knock at the door had them jumping apart, Rowan dragging a quick hand through his hair, not having a chance to reply before the door opened.

“Hey, Rowan, I was hoping you could— Oh.”

The pretty woman froze in the doorway, taking in the scene in front of her.

It was innocent enough, though Aelin’s lips were swollen from their kisses. That could easily be explained away, especially as her teeth found the bottom lip and gnawed on it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had an appointment,” she said, eyeing Aelin, who had thankfully gotten off the desk before she’d entered.

“It wasn’t officially booked,” he explained, slightly stepping in front of Aelin to keep her shielded. “Miss Galathynius had a few questions about the homework I assigned in class and about an upcoming project. She stopped by during her lunch break, since her schedule is so busy.”

Silence built in the office, and after a second, Rowan cleared his throat. “Did you need something, Remelle?”

“Maeve sent out an email about a mandatory department meeting for Thursday night,” she said, slowly, still looking at them both suspiciously. “A couple of us in the building were going to get drinks after, wanted to know if you wanted to come.”

Rowan cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Sure. I’ll plan on it.”

“Good,” Remelle said, a little too quickly. “And check your mailbox in the office. It’s full.”

With another look at Aelin, then at Rowan, Remelle left and the door fell shut behind her.

Silence enveloped the room.

Rowan slowly turned around to look at Aelin, whose face was pale.

“You couldn’t have locked the door?” she whispered.

Rowan scoffed. “Yeah, because that wouldn’t have been suspicious, being locked in here with a student.”

For some reason, the word student felt like a jab coming from him in that moment. Aelin’s back straightened. “I wasn’t aware that the receptionist randomly barges into your office. If a student found it locked, they probably wouldn’t think it was weird, at all. Offices around here are locked all the damn time.”

Rowan sighed and nodded. He stepped towards her and ran his hands up and down her arms, pressing a soft kiss to Aelin’s forehead. “You should go. There’s only so much we can talk about homework.”

Nodding, Aelin wrapped her arms around his waist, and he wrapped her up in his own. “I’ll see you after class?”

“I’ll run by my place to grab some things and pick up dinner on the way,” he promised, tilting her chin up to look at him. “I’ll see you later.”

She nodded and rose up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. Grabbing her bag from the chair, she adjusted her messy bun, which was only a little messier than it had been before and slipped out the office door.

Leaning back on the spot Aelin had just been sitting in, Rowan took a quick moment to breathe before setting his desk to rights and heading down to check his community mailbox. It wasn’t full as Remelle had implied, but there were a few things in it, mostly department memos and notes from other professors. He ignored her suspicious look as he made his way back up the stairs to his office and settled behind his desk to work on the grading he’d planned to do during his lunch.

He was halfway through an essay from one of his upperclassmen when his email dinged on his laptop. It had gone off a few times since Aelin had left, but he’d ignored them, assuming they were automatic replies to Maeve’s email about the meeting.

Tapping on the track pad of his laptop to wake it up, he kept reading over the essay as his email came to life, but he waited until he was done to look over at the most recent notifications.

Freezing, Rowan’s eyes flashed over the subject of the email from Maeve three times before he actually had the nerve to open it.

Meeting in my office after your final class of the evening.

We need to have a talk.

*

Aelin felt as if she had been holding her breath for hours.

Which was exactly how long it had been since she had received her text from Rowan.

As someone who was not nervous or paranoid by nature, she hated the feeling of being so freaked out that she was nearly about to vomit. She had already cleaned her apartment once, and was pouring herself a glass of wine as she was deciding what she could clean next. Maybe she would clean out the fridge.

After downing her glass of wine, she did just that, throwing open the refrigerator door and emptying out what had been in there for over a week.

She didn’t even hear the front door open, nor did she hear her roommate and cousin walk into the kitchen.

“Ace?”

Aelin yelped, jumped, and spun around, nearly knocking over her glass of wine on the counter nearby. “What the hell?” she yelled. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that! Doesn’t anyone realize how fucking rude it is to just barge in?!”

Aedion’s brows shot up as Lysandra stepped forward. “Uh, everything okay?”

Aelin’s face fell into her hands as she leaned against the countertop. “Does it look like everything is okay?” she asked, words muffled.

“What happened?” Lysandra asked, gently prying Aelin’s hands from her face.

Her eyes were still shut, as if she could shut out the world. Taking a deep breath, she released it, answering in one, quick burst. “I think Rowan and I got caught.”

She heard something hit the floor, clearly dropped by Aedion, but Lysandra’s hands went slack on her wrist. “What do you mean?”

Letting her head fall to the countertop, she groaned once before standing up straight and looking at them. Aedion had indeed dropped the bag of pretzels he’d pulled from the cabinet.

“We both had long breaks today, so I stopped by his office to see him for a minute. I didn’t mean for anything to happen. I mean… Yeah, I kinda did. I kissed him first.”

“I don’t need to hear about this. Lys can fill me in,” Aedion muttered, scooping the bag of pretzels off the floor and heading for Lysandra’s bedroom.

“We didn’t fuck or anything,” Aelin sighed after he left. “But we did make out on his desk a bit. It was barely even PG-13.”

“So what happened?” Lysandra asked, getting another glass down and refilling Aelin’s glassed wine and filling one for herself. “How did you get caught?”

“The secretary walked in,” Aelin said, staring at a spot on the hardwood. “She didn’t see anything, we broke apart before the door opened, but… I don’t know. She sounded suspicious, looked suspicious.” Aelin took a sip from her glass. “I mean, seriously, who knocks but doesn’t wait for a come in before they open the damn door? It’s rude as hell.”

“I don’t wait before coming into your room,” Lysandra said.

“That’s different, we live together,” Aelin said, unable to control her chuckle.

Lysandra smiled, but it faded as she shook her head. “That man needs to learn how to lock his office.”

“That’s what I said!” Aelin agreed, and topped off her glass before it was even halfway empty.

“So, what?” Lysandra went on. “She came in but didn’t see anything. Maybe she just always looks suspicious. I’m sure nothing will come out of it.”

Without another word, Aelin took her phone out of her pocket and slid it across the counter. Lysandra slowly picked it up and read Rowan’s text.

Got an email from Maeve. I have to go to her office tonight. Says she needs to talk to me. Sounded urgent.

Aelin had texted back. Did she say what it was about?

No, Rowan had replied. But it doesn’t sound good.

“Have you heard from him since he sent these?” Lysandra asked, setting the phone down.

“No, but we’ve both been in class.” Aelin let her head fall to the countertop again. “He’s supposed to come over after he gets out. But now I’m wondering if that’s such a good idea. What if someone sees him getting here?”

“It’s not all students, and we’re not exactly social butterflies. We don’t know any of our neighbors,” Lysandra said, clearly trying to soothe her.

Aelin just shook her head. “I like him, Lys. A lot. I can see a future with this guy, but… What if this is all too much? It’s too dangerous. We’re jeopardizing our futures.”

Lysandra’s eyes softened. “The secretive part of your relationship is only temporary. Besides, he’s head over heels for you, too. Would it really be worth it to give that up?”

“What if Rowan is about to lose his job?” Aelin shot back. “Lys, I would never be able to forgive myself. I have to do something.”

“Always the hero,” Lysandra muttered. “Look, the best thing you can do right now is stay here, drink wine, and let it all play out. Rowan is a big boy. He can handle himself.” Aelin said nothing, so Lysandra went on. “I just want to see you happy. Does he make you happy?”

“Beyond. Happier than I’ve been in a long time,” she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the counter. “I know it’s only been a few weeks, but… I care about him.”

“And it’s pretty damn clear that he cares about you, so sitting and waiting sucks, but that’s what you’ll have to do.” Lysandra crossed the kitchen and wrapped her best friend up in a hug. Aelin’s forehead fell to her shoulder. “I can send Aedion to get more wine if you want.”

Aelin nodded.

Lysandra chuckled and said, “Then that’s what we’ll do. Why don’t you—?”

A knock on the front door had Aelin’s head snapping up and she hurried from the kitchen. Throwing open the door, she found Rowan standing on the other side. Before he could say anything, she pulled him inside and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. “Gods, I’ve been so fucking worried.”

To her surprise, he laughed quietly, and it only caused Aelin to lean back, eyes wide. “What could possibly be funny right now?”

“I’m not I’m trouble,” he whispered, arms going around her waist. “We’re safe, we’re fine.”

Aelin blinked, all anxiety fading from her body only to be replaced with confusion. “Why did Maeve call you into her office, then?”

“She just wanted to check how things were going.” He shrugged. “Being new, and her nephew, she just wanted to check in.”

“Gods, Rowan!” She shoved his chest, lightly. “You couldn’t have texted me that? I’ve been a nervous mess!”

“She’s not exaggerating,” Lysandra mumbled from behind them. “Hi, Professor.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Hi, Lysandra.”

As Lysandra headed towards her room, he looked down to where Aelin was staring at his chest. He tilted her chin up until she was forced to look at him. His brow furrowed and he was surprised to see silver lining her eyes. “Everything is okay, baby. Why are you crying?”

She shook her head and blinked, but wasn’t able to stop the single tear that spilled over. He wiped it away with his thumb. “I thought we got caught, that I had ruined your life.”

His heart nearly broke. “Aelin…” He wrapped her up in his arms again, holding her as tightly as he dared, as if he could keep her from falling apart. After a second, he leaned back so he could look at her, but didn’t let her go. “Being together isn’t a decision that just one of us has made. We both went into this relationship knowing the consequences. If something were to happen, if someone finds out, you aren’t ruining my life.”

Aelin snorted, and framed his face in her hands. “So we’d both be ruining your life?”

“No one’s life will be ruined,” Rowan promised. “I’m going to be with you, Aelin. Now, and when you graduate, we can have a normal relationship, whatever the hell that means. If you’ll have me, I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s a big promise to make so early in our relationship,” Aelin breathed, running her thumbs across his cheeks.

“I have a good feeling about us,” Rowan followed, melting into her touch.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers, but pulled back and smirked. “But maybe I’ll start locking my office, just in case you decide to make another unexpected visit.”

Aelin threw her head back and laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck as she rose up on her toes to kiss him again.

The day had stressed them both out, but throughout it all, there was only one thing Rowan could think about: he didn’t know what his future held, but there was one thing for sure.

He wanted Aelin in it.

[treatutoameal]

translation of heetae's character introduction in the youth of may scriptbook

transcribed from @byldh_'s scans

-

황희��� (HWANG HEE-TAE) / BORN ON JUNE 23, 1955

A tree frog (disobedient person) who refuses everything that predicates who he is.

To describe Heetae's life in a word, it would be 'war against prejudice.' In order to break the prejudice against children of single mothers, he entered the Seoul National University Medical School as a senior class leader and the top student in his department every year. When his colleagues looked down on him as the "brilliant hillbilly" (ie. unsophisticated countryside person) from Gwangju, he pulled out the latest car model, which he didn't need. Heetae is tired of the stereotype that university students should only carry Molotov cocktails (protest), that medical students should only be stuck in school (study) because they are medical students. Because he goes to Hakrim Dabang (music café) everyday with his acoustic guitar, the delinquent medical student image (ie. playing instead of studying) was a given and because he hated colored glasses, he studied hard in places where others couldn’t see him and maintained the top of his department.

However, that doesn't mean that only arrogance elevates his personality. Rather, Heetae is more of a nerd who enjoys watching his opponents bewildered with his unpredictable and characteristic audacity. Perhaps that was Heetae's way of surviving. He was a child who wanted to run to the drunkard who was getting wasted with his mother, a night-time singer, but got pocket money from him while running an errand for cigarettes instead. If you're strong, you break, but in the case of Heetae, if you break, it's over.

Although his living conditions with his mom were a little poor, or perhaps a lot, his childhood spent with her did not leave a scar on Heetae. The immaturity when Heetae told his mom they had to pay their monthly rent and she replied with 'Oh right', the naiveness when he showed her his first ranking in his grades report and she told him 'Don't work too hard, you can become a singer later', made Heetae mature a little earlier than his peers... In essence, Heetae's mother was a 'strong and funny' person and Heetae resembled her and grew up as an upright and warm person.

Rather, the conflict between the two began when his mother fell sick. Heetae, who grew up while blaming his father for abandoning him and his mother, visited the stranger who didn't even know his mom's face to beg for her medical expenses. However, that day Heetae saw his mother's unfamiliar face for the first time in his life. He cried, fought, begged and burned up in anger, but eventually his mother died in vain after refusing Kinam's help, and Heetae ended up visiting him under the guise of her funeral expenses. Heetae, whose animal instincts uncover his opponents’ clear motives, replied 'Revenge won’t pay for the funeral' to Kinam's cold question as to what purpose he came to visit.

That bold answer satisfied Kinam, and Heetae stepped into that house on the road and steadily adapted to his position of "bastard son." He did not feel discouraged that he was a freerider/parasite in that family, and deliberately acted shamelessly to ask for more bowls of rice.

Heetae, who had a talent for music due to his mom, got into university and formed a two-member group with Kyungsoo, his only friend. Unlike Heetae, who used to stay away from the democracy protests, Kyungsoo, who was enthusiastic about the student movement, often brought injured wanted students who couldn't go to the hospital, turning Heetae's room into an "illegal clinic." One day, Kyungsoo, who was on the run, carried Seokchul, who was severely injured, into Heetae's room. However, her condition was beyond Heetae at the time, and Kyungsoo, who went outside to get help, was arrested and forced to join the army. Heetae, who chose to defer his graduation at the time of his internship training due to guilt and trauma caused by the incident, is a person who's paying that debt.

As such, he sold everything in his possession and desperately paid for the hospital to keep Seokchul alive. When she briefly regained consciousness and pronounced the words 'I want to go home,' Heetae immediately headed to Gwangju, his hometown.

Heetae, who sneaked into Gwangju to transfer Seokchul to the local hospital, is eventually taken home by Kinam. He ends up getting the transfer's money by throwing a winner's punch, telling his father that he’ll do anything he wants him to. Instead, he is dragged into a blind date. Heetae, who was wearing a matching suit that his father had bought for him, had no idea what was awaiting him. The fact that Heetae, who has survived his lifetime on the lookout, would end up completely disarmed in front of one woman. That both of them will spend the most glorious May of their lives.

-

오월의 청춘 (Youth of May)

Written by 이강 (Lee Kang)

Directed by 송민엽 (Song Min-Yeop)

[satrangee-ray]

Meet my MC: About the Past

Inara Hepburn (she/they)

Trigger warnings: Mentions of queerphobia, bullying, loss of family member, sexual harassment.

More below the cut—

All characters and events depicted are fictional, any resemblance to real incidents are purely coincidental. The writer has no intention to throw allegations on, or hurt the sentiments of any community.

Background and family dynamic:

Inara Hepburn was born in 1992 at Los Angeles, California, to Manimala B. Hepburn and Thomas Hepburn, mainly as a last attempt to save their drowning marriage. Their birth merely delayed the inevitable, and two years later Thomas split with Mani for another woman, leaving her free from a toxic and abusive relationship.

Jobless in a big city all on her own, Mani decided to move back to her paternal residence in Kolkata with her two year old, to ensure them a happy and safe life. She took up a teaching job at a government school to cover for their expenses.

Growing up, Inara had a fairly good relationship with their mom, even to the extent of calling her their best friend. This, however, changed drastically when Inara came out to their mom. She was highly disappointed in them for "turning out" the way they did, and she kept searching for means to try and "change" them. Inara, on the other hand, had never felt more misunderstood, and hence, the easy dynamic between the two turned into a rocky one, with both of them dancing around the queer topic for years.

When Inara was 16, she was first diagnosed with anxiety and depression. Unfortunately, her therapist too turned out to be quite tentative in their approval towards her identity. They believed they could make her feel differently with pills and a couple of sessions. Feeling alone in a huge fiasco with no cooperation whatsoever from her family, friends, or doctor, Inara took to flushing pills down the toilet, and channeling all her feelings into journaling in her diary. It was from here that she found an idea forming, and two months into it, she started writing her first novel.

For one and a half years, Inara secretly worked on this novel, pouring her heart and soul out into perfecting every word. Finally, when it was done, Inara asked her mom to give her one last chance to explain everything, and gave her this book to read. Conditions being, no questions should be asked until the entire book has been fully read. Mani agreed, and by the end of it, she was in tears. The book had successfully managed to change all her inhibitions regarding people of different identities. Touched by Inara's talent and dedication, she helped her publish the book under the pen name Indradhanush.

Things had started to change for the better in the Hepburn household. At 21, Inara flew abroad to attend medical school. Four years later, a week before their graduation, they found out that their mom had passed away in a car accident on her way to the airport.

After their mom's demise, their aunt from Northern Irelands re-established proper connection with them, as she was their only parental figure left. Their aunt, uncle and cousin still keep touch with them, through occasional chats or video calls on Whatsapp.

Education and career path:

Inara completed her primary and secondary education from St. Jonathan's Convent, Kolkata (fictional). Throughout her school years Inara was equally good in science and literature. History-geography was not her forte, and the only reason she took up physics-chemistry-bio after her 10th boards along with the compulsory literature subjects is to avoid those two. 

Outside of strict school studies, Inara had always been an inquisitive kid, questioning and introspecting everything in and around them to the degree that people called them crazy. Their mom had a masters in Bengali, hence they grew up in the environment of understanding and appreciating fiction. This led them to write poems and short stories from a very young age. They had almost decided on pursuing a literature based career.

In her school days, Inara was bullied for being "different"; aka both partially white and queer. She found it difficult to fit in, and hence the constant taunts became a part of her childhood trauma. She was also groped and sexually harassed by her math teacher in his office when she was in the 9th grade. Inara and her mom tried to report, but couldn't file a complaint as they were threatened by the said math teacher who held an important position in the church.

After 12th, Inara spent two years pursuing a bachelor's degree in English literature, and writing their second book. But by the first year, she had already encountered her life changing medical book 'Diagnostics Principles' by Dr. Ethan Ramsey (source: her family friend/physician), and her mind about her main career plans had begun to change. As soon as she made a decision, she quit college and took a year off to prepare for a medical entrance examination.

Having obtained a scholarship to study abroad, they took up their seat at a medical school in Boston, and completed their 4 year MBBS course. In the second year, their mom got another book of theirs published, this time a spy thriller, and that too recieved an overwhelming response. No one in their school or college knew it was them, cause it all happened under their pen name.

After graduation, she took up an internship position in Edenbrook Hospital, Boston.

Personal life:

The only best friends Inara had in school were Ayan and Vaani, a family outside of family. They were the ones to always defend her and have her back whenever they would get bullied. Later, Ayan too came out as gay, and Vaani is still questioning her sexuality, but between them three, there are never any judgements. 

Inara fell in love with their classmate Pranani when they were 14, and they dated secretly for 4 years. Pranani's mom was a teacher in the same school and had an influence in the administration. Inara looked up to Pranani's mom a lot, until they realized she was the one to deliberately put them under that math teacher, to replace her own daughter's seat and transfer her to another section. Pranani knew, and did nothing to change it. On being confronted, Pranani tried to gaslight Inara and forcefully kiss her to dissolve the situation. Soon after, Inara broke it off.

Inara always had feelings for Vaani, and they had a short fling in their college days after she confessed. It mutually ended after they realized Vaani wasn't ready to commit, and they were better off as friends.

Inara held a key position in the LGBTQ+ committee of their med university. They ran several campaigns funded by the college over the four years, in and outside of the campus, to spread awareness, as well as aid and advocate for people of the community.

Childhood obsessions timeline— (in order of which one started first, cause none ended till date).

Disney musicals, Barbie movies, Tinker Bell

Akbar-Birbal

Rabindrasangeet 

Sherlock Holmes

Western country music

Bio-chem (started early on, distinguished later, reignited at the start of their medical career)

Agatha Christie

Shakespeare

Queer fanfiction 

Diagnostics Principles :).

About the books:

Phoenix– The first book by Indradhanush, based on an NRI queer couple in California who after several life turmoils find themselves and have a happy ending that the author felt she and her then girlfriend deserved.

The blurry insides of Truth– Second book by Indradhanush, and the last published till date, about a woman whose marriage gets interrupted due to attempted murder of one of her guests on her wedding day. Her to-be husband, a CID officer, stands accused. To what lengths will she go to defend him? Is she really defending him though, or is nobody who they seem to be?

That was my entry people! I had to change the name of my MC's school, because I can't put allegations on any real and existing one.

Hope you got a good insight into the past of my dearest Inara's life.

Tagging: @openheartfanfics @adiehardfan @barbean

[gohyuck]

part 1 is out now! here

pairing: greaser!jeno lee x rich!reader; ft. brother!johnny

genre: greaser!au; runaways!au; criminal!au; angst/fluff/smut

word count: 2k

warnings: none

a/n: this is just a prologue (but you should still read it 😉) and it provides some context for the events of the main story... part of the criminal collaboration by @neovisioned

let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

April 13th, 1956

There’s a couple of lilies in a transparent vase, half filled up (half emptied out? you ponder this in an attempt to keep your mind off of what is right in front of you) with water that likely hasn’t been changed since before the weekend. Jojo, the class pet, runs on his wheel, keeping a surprisingly steady pace for a hamster. He pays no mind to his surroundings. What it must be like - to be completely and utterly unperturbed and unaffected by those around him. Maybe you’ll be reborn as a hamster in your next life. A quick glance (your fourth in maybe three minutes) around the tense room at the rest of your classmates and at the teacher leaves you hoping.

The clock’s ticking is louder than usual - though that may just be your mind playing tricks on you - and the room seems to be holding its breath as a singular entity rather than a whole composed of twenty-three individuals (one of whom is the teacher himself), or parts, within it. The whole situation is like a suspenseful movie scene - you know something big is going to happen, and soon - it’s just that none of you have any idea of what it’ll actually be. All eyes are focused on one person - a person who’s up on his feet with a previously pristine stationary-based letter crumpled between his fingers and who is staring holes through the teacher up front, who just so happens to be the sorry individual who had handed him said letter. The teacher, a man whose knuckles have more hair than his head, is trying his best to stare back. He can’t quite match the student’s gaze.

You glance down at your desk at the wrong moment. Before you can even register that anyone has moved, the distinct sound of a textbook hitting the floor startles you. A chair follows it. Before you can look up, the classroom door shuts with a resounding bang. The crumpled up letter is on the floor by the door. Mr. Simmons, in all his balding, middle-aged, beginnings-of-a-beer-belly glory, stands in front of the chalkboard, mouth open in a comically wide look of shock. 

After what has to be more than just mere minutes, your English teacher decides that the lesson must go on, and in the midst of telling the class (now with twenty one students and one teacher) more about Shakespeare’s specific usage of language in The Taming of The Shrew, he subconsciously wipes his chalky hands on the front of his pressed khakis. You wince. That’ll be hell to wash. A girl behind you snickers behind her hand to the boy beside her that it looks like Simmons does cocaine. Somebody wonders aloud, though in a quiet enough whisper that Simmons himself can’t hear, who would sell a man like your English teacher coke. 

A smart-mouthed class-clown type in the back heaves a cough that sounds oddly like “Jeno Lee”. laughter ripples through twenty seniors. you don’t join in.

Jeno Lee. 

You hadn’t even caught sight of his scuffed black Chuck Taylors or the back of his hand-me-down leather jacket when he’d stormed from the room. There was no glint of his pocketknife, either. You’ve come to see all three as hallmarks of his persona. 

There’s a lingering smell of smoke in the air, though. His seat, after all, is only two over from yours to your right, and you’ve always been unlucky with inhaling his secondhand smoke. Rumor has it that he smokes two packs a day. 

Somehow you doubt that, though. 

Maybe you’re naive, but, after all, nobody with a smile like that can plow through 40 cigarettes in 24 hours.

♕ ♕ ♕

April 16, 1956

That's the last class you ever have with jeno. His desk is noticeably empty the next day, and the next, and the next after that until your teacher finally - though with an air of relief you find at least mildly despicable - lets his remaining students know that Jeno will no longer be attending your high school, or any high school at all. You don’t pretend to understand - there’s only about four weeks left until you’re all set to graduate, anyways - but you also don’t pretend to be surprised. 

The recycling bin hasn’t been emptied for days. In what’s far from your proudest moment, you stay after class - waiting until Simmons himself walks out to check on what sounds like a hallway fight between two boys - to dig through it, trying to hide your triumphant smile from your own self when you find the crumpled paper Jeno had discarded on his last day here. It had very obviously made him angry, angry enough to drop out, and the wonder of what might be in it is killing you.

After all, he’d been good eye-candy in class, at the very least. You kind of miss him being there, even if you’re the only one who does. You squint, trying to make out what the ink on the paper says. 

It’s a letter - specifically it’s a letter from the Neo Institute of Technology, easily one of the most difficult universities to get into in your state. Your fingers twitch as you battle internally over whether to open it or not - rejection is hard to deal with, even if it isn’t your own. Your school sends hardly two or three people to NeoTech per year, and there’s no way someone like Jeno could’ve gotten in. Eventually, your curiosity wins over, though not before Simmons walks back into the room and you find yourself telling him that you’d tripped and fallen near the recycling, all while hiding Jeno’s letter behind your back. 

♕ ♕ ♕

Your brother, home from college for the weekend, is lying languidly across the couch, hand in a bag of chips when you walk in through the front door. You aren’t surprised - you’d seen his prized red Chevy Bel Air convertible parked out front when you’d stopped to pick up the mail. You realize fairly quickly that he’s the only one home - your mother must be at a book club meeting, and your father is still at his 9 to 5. it’s just you and the devil himself. 

Johnny raises one chip-dust covered hand in greeting before turning back to whatever old western rerun is playing on the TV. For your part, you pay him no mind, dropping the mail - some bills, a... magazine, a reminder card from the dentist - on the kitchen counter while shouldering your backpack to keep it from falling. 

“Hey, John?” You finally call, already halfway up the stairs. 

He grunts in response, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. You consider not telling him for a moment, but then realize that you really don’t want to witness the screaming match your parents will have with him if they get to it before your brother does. 

It, of course, being his not-so-guilty pleasure. 

“This month’s Playboy came in. it’s on the counter.” You finally say, though not before throwing him as disgusted a look as you can muster once you see the way your brother perks up immediately. Pig. He drops the chip bag onto the coffee table, scattering bits and pieces of food across it. You don’t hold out hope for him to clean it up. You also don’t wait around to watch him grab his magazine, instead making your way up the stairs and into your room, finally free to be truly alone for the first time all day. 

You shut the door, making sure it’s locked properly, before dropping your backpack on the floor and jumping backwards, bouncing once, onto your bed. The letter’s been in your hand since you’d found it, and you can’t help but feel mildly excited - and also, of course, just a little bad - as you smooth it out in your lap against your plaid skirt. Slowly, very slowly, you pull it open, bracing yourself for what you know you’ll see. 

Dear Mr. Jeno Lee,

Once again, on the behalf of the admissions board at NeoTech, I extend a hearty congratulations to you for being accepted as a member of the class of 1961. The School of Engineering looks forward to witnessing your growth over the next four years, and we know that, upon your graduation, you will make us proud as an alumnus. However-

You pause in your reading, blinking rapidly in mild disbelief. Jeno - Jeno Lee, known for being a greaser and a hooligan, a threat and a terror - had gotten into NeoTech? The realization shakes you, causing you to blow air out through your lips before you continue reading. 

However, we find that we will have to rescind your full scholarship. I understand that you may find it difficult to pay tuition, but there just seems to be nothing we can do: we request a disciplinary record for each student, and yours is riddled with fights and altercations with both students and teachers, especially one Mr. Richard Simmons. Typically, this would be grounds for rescission, but considering how stellar your grades and essays are, we will allow you a probationary semester. 

You will still have to pay your tuition in its entirety. The first semester payment of $1,200 is due by Friday, April 20, 1956. If you cannot pay it, I’m afraid that we will be unable to take you on for the fall semester. 

Best regards and congratulations once again,

Sooman Lee, Neo Institute of Technology President and Board Chairman

Although you’re still surprised at him having gotten in - internalized prejudice, your brain whispers to you, and you hate that it’s right - your heart twists as you read the letter over and over again. $1,200 is steep for a college, and you know that there’s no way in hell Jeno can ever fork that up. Of course, you realize, heaving a heavy, heavy sigh as you do, he no longer can guarantee getting a high school diploma anyways. His rescission from NeoTech must be on its way to his mailbox already. 

Before you can think too deeply into Jeno Lee and his now-precarious future, a loud knock interrupts you, causing you to swiftly slide the letter underneath your bed. You never know if Johnny’s going to try and pick the lock on your bedroom door or not, though you’re glad to see that he stops short of doing so this time. 

“What?” You ask, your tone as annoyed as possible. 

“Don’t ‘what?’ me, shithead,” Your brother responds, throwing your tone of voice right back at you. “Mom’s back, wants your help with dinner.”

“Why can’t you help for once, you ass?” You snark, sliding off of your bed regardless. The door swings open just as you unlock it, revealing your brother smirking down at you in a way that makes you want to right hook him directly in the face. 

“Men aren’t made for the kitchen.” Is all he says, stepping back so you can get out. Before you can reprimand him, threatening to kick his patronizing and patriarchal ass, Johnny disappears into his own bedroom, slamming the door shut. 

“(Name)?” Your mother calls, sounding displeased at having to wait for you. You groan, pulling your own bedroom door shut before bounding down the stairs. As rock-and-roll music starts pouring out of Johnny’s room, no doubt courtesy of the radio he’d gotten as a high school graduation gift, and as your mother thrusts a rolling pin into your hands while grumbling about not raising you right, all thoughts of Jeno are pushed out of your mind. 

Dust starts to settle on the letter beneath your bed. 

It’s no matter, though: though you believe it might very well be the last thing connecting you to the Jeno Lee, fate has other plans for you. Soon enough, the surface level image of who Jeno is will no longer exist to you, replaced by your own truer perceptions. 

Of course, there’s a series of things that have to happen before that.  

It all goes to shit on May 25th, 1957. 

[lokiondisneyplus]

For his entire tenure as an Avenger, Anthony Mackie had never been the first name on the call sheet.

In a galaxy of stars populated by Robert Downey Jr., Chris Evans and Scarlett Johansson, the actor was aware of his place in the on-set pecking order, but would never miss an opportunity to make his presence felt.

“Number six on the call sheet has arrived!” Mackie would routinely shout on films like “Captain America: Civil War” and the box office-busting “Infinity Saga” sequels, according to Marvel chief creative officer Kevin Feige.

It exemplifies the sort of winning tone that the 42-year-old actor has brought to his superhero character the Falcon, aka Sam Wilson, for six movies from the top-earning studio — wry and collegial humor, with the potential to turn explosive at any moment. Both Mackie and his character are set to burn brighter than ever when the Disney Plus series “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier” lands on March 18.

On that call sheet, “Anthony is No. 1,” Feige is happy to report, “but it still says ‘No. 6.’ He kept it because he didn’t want it to go to his head.” The series is essentially a two-hander with his friend and longtime co-star Sebastian Stan, the titular soldier. All six episodes were produced and directed by Emmy winner Kari Skogland (“The Handmaid’s Tale,” “The Loudest Voice”). The series, for which combined Super Bowl TV spot and trailer viewership earned a record-breaking 125 million views this year, is reported to have cost $150 million in total.

For Mackie, though, the show comes at a critical time for both his career and for representation in the MCU. Sam Wilson is graduating from handy wingman (Falcon literally gets his job done with the use of mechanical wings), having been handed the Captain America shield by Evans in the last “Avengers” film. While it’s unclear if he will formally don the superhero’s star-spangled uniform moving forward (as the character did in a 2015 comic series), global fandoms and the overall industry are still reeling from the loss of Chadwick Boseman, who portrayed Marvel’s Black Panther to culture-defining effect. With this new story, Mackie will become the most visible African American hero in the franchise. And when asked whether he’ll be taking the mantle of one of its most iconic characters, he doesn’t exactly say no.

“I was really surprised and affected by the idea of possibly getting the shield and becoming Captain America. I’ve been in this business a long time, and I did it the way they said you’re supposed to do it. I didn’t go to L.A. and say, ‘Make me famous.’ I went to theater school, did Off Broadway, did indie movies and worked my way through the ranks. It took a long time for this shit to manifest itself the way it has, and I’m extremely happy about that,” Mackie says.

Feige says that, especially with the advent of Disney Plus and the freedom afforded long-form storytelling, the moment was right to give the Falcon his due.

“Suddenly, what had been a classic passing of the torch from one hero to another at the end of ‘Endgame’ became an opening up of our potential to tell an entire story about that. What does it really mean for somebody to step into those shoes, and not just somebody but a Black man in the present day?” says Feige.

Like many comic book heroes, Mackie has an origin story marked by tragedy at a young age — specifically around the loss of a parental figure. The New Orleans native is the youngest of six children from a tight-knit middle-class family, whose trajectory was spun into chaos when his mother was stricken with a terminal illness.

“It was unexpected and very untimely. I was 15 when she was diagnosed with cancer, and a few months later, she was gone. She passed the day before my ninth-grade graduation,” Mackie recalls. “If my mom wouldn’t have passed away when I was so young, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

Mackie had already gravitated toward the performing arts before the loss of his mother, having enrolled at the pre-professional school New Orleans Center for Creative Arts. Like many young people grappling with trauma, Mackie says he began to act out. A core group of teachers helped get him out of trouble. Ray Vrazel, still an instructor at the school, personally drove the student to a Houston-based audition for the University of North Carolina School of the Arts, where he was accepted for his senior year of high school.

“Everything I did, I did for my mama. The idea of leaving home at 17 to go away to school would have never been an option if she was still around. She was my best friend. Losing her gave me a kind of strength, and a desire to succeed,” Mackie says.

Succeed he did. Spending that formative year as a minor on a college campus helped Mackie find his “tribe,” a misfit crew of artists and performers, which propelled him to acceptance at New York’s prestigious Juilliard School in 1997. There he was part of the breakthrough class of students of color to be chosen for the notoriously selective drama program, which Mackie says was liberating given the institution’s track record.

“Our year was a huge transition. There were hardly any Asian people in the drama program, maybe one or two Black people and hardly any Black women. In our class, we had three black women, two black men, one Native American, one Asian female, out of 20 people. Ever since then, the classes have been wildly diverse,” says Mackie, whose fellow students included stage and film star Tracie Thoms and actor Lee Pace.

Following his training, Mackie launched a staggeringly versatile career. He has played Tupac Shakur and Martin Luther King Jr. to similar acclaim, a juicehead bodybuilder in “Pain & Gain” and a homeless gay teen in the Sundance player “Brother to Brother.” He has exhibited remarkable staying power in an industry that often pigeonholes actors and has a pockmarked soul when it comes to inclusion.

“I was drawn to Anthony because of his electrifying ability to combine intensity with sensitivity, courage with compassion, and all of it comes across as inevitable, as if it could be no other way,” says Kathryn Bigelow, who directed him in the 2009 best picture Oscar winner “The Hurt Locker.”

Samuel L. Jackson, whom Mackie calls a mentor and has played alongside in several films, says he has “an innate quality that first and foremost makes everyone want to cast him.” On a recent idle Netflix search, Jackson came across Mackie’s latest sci-fi film, “Outside the Wire,” and it triggered a memory of sitting in the audience for his performance in the 2010 Broadway production of Martin McDonagh’s play “A Behanding in Spokane.”

“Watching him onstage, I thought, he’s a very adroit actor capable of putting on many hats. He’s fearless and will try to be anybody. Then, on my TV, he’s playing a nanobyte soldier or some shit,” Jackson says.

Though always humble about getting the next job, pre-Marvel Mackie was rarely offered pole position.

“There were certain pegs. My first was ‘8 Mile.’ It was a monumental step at the beginning of my career,” Mackie says of the 2002 Curtis Hanson film that elevated rapper Eminem to multi-hyphenate stardom.

“After that it was ‘Half Nelson.’ It blew up Ryan Gosling, so I was there to ride the wave. Then ‘The Hurt Locker,’ and it blew up Jeremy Renner. It was the joke for a long time — if you’re a white dude and you want to get nominated for an Oscar, play opposite me. I bring the business for white dudes,” says Mackie.

He remembers the sensation “Hurt Locker” caused during its awards season. It was a moment he thought would change everything as he stood on the stage of the Dolby Theatre with the cast and filmmakers, having just sipped from George Clooney’s flask while Halle Berry radiated a few rows away.

“I thought I would be able to move forward in my career and not have to jostle and position myself for work. To get into rooms with certain people. I thought my work would speak for itself. I didn’t feel a huge shift,” he says, “but I 100% think that ‘The Hurt Locker’ is the reason I got ‘Captain America.’”

He’s referring to “Captain America: The Winter Soldier,” the 2014 Marvel film that was the first to be directed by Joe and Anthony Russo (the current title holders for the highest-grossing film of all time with “Avenges: Endgame”). Mackie says that blockbuster not only gave him his largest platform to date but changed expectations of superhero movies forever.

“It was the first of the espionage, Jason Bourne-esque action movies at Marvel. After that, the movies shifted and had different themes and were more in touch with the world we live in, more grounded,” he says.

Bolstered by the words of another mentor, Morgan Freeman, Mackie feels no bitterness about his path.

“We did ‘Million Dollar Baby’ together, and when we were shooting this movie, I got offered a play. When you do Off Broadway, it’s $425 a week. In New York, that’s really $75 per week. I got a movie offer at the same time, and it was buckets of money. Three Home Depot buckets of money were going to be dropped off at my door,” Mackie says. “The script was awful; the whole thing was slimy. I went to Morgan’s trailer and asked him what he would do. He took a second and said, ‘Do the play. When Hollywood wants you, they’ll come get you. And when they come get you, they’ll pay for it.’ That blew my mind, and I left him that day with such a massive amount of confidence. He’s been a huge influence on me.”

He used the currency of that first Russo Brothers film and five subsequent ones to do what many creators and performers in Hollywood have done in recent years to help balance the scales of profit and representation in content: make things on his own.

Last year, Mackie produced and starred in “The Banker” — what would be Apple Studios’ first foray into original streaming film distribution and the awards landscape — through his banner Make It With Gravy. The film follows the true story of America’s first Black bankers and the white frontman they deployed to acquire the institution, all while supporting Black-owned businesses and communities in the process. A late-breaking scandal over sexual misconduct accusations involving the real-life family members of the film’s subjects delayed the release, overshooting awards-season deadlines and entangling the fledgling producer.

“It was a good lesson, and gave me a new perspective on the world around us. It’s very important to me that the women by my side are treated equally. It was a valuable lesson learned. I was very humbled by my sisters, for once not being mean to me,” he says.

Mackie is in development on the film “Signal Hill,” about the early days of lawyer Johnnie Cochran and the theater he brought to courtrooms long before the O.J. Simpson trial, and is hoping to secure the life story of civil rights pioneer Claudette Colvin as a vehicle for his directorial debut. Raising four sons of his own now, Mackie wants his off-screen work to make them well-rounded men.

“Look at Robin Williams,” he says. “He used to be crass and funny, and then he had kids, and he started doing all these family-friendly movies. Same thing with Eddie Murphy. I’m trying to curate my children’s experience with the things that I’ll be producing, rather than starring in. That’s what is most important. They know my job is my job; they know who I am. I’ve given up the idea of them ever thinking that I’m cool,” he says.

Jokes about the call sheet are among many of Mackie’s filming quirks. Jackson says that sets are often littered with hidden cigar stubs, to be fired up between takes or after long days. Bigelow says his rapport with crew has led to nights where the “clock was ticking but it was impossible to regain composure enough to shoot.” But according to Evans, no Mackie-ism is more famous than the phrase he bellows whenever his directors cut a scene: “Cut the check!”

Evans says this “will be forever associated with Mackie. I find myself saying it on sets all the time. I love it. But I’ll never be able to say it as well as him.”

As the man handing Mackie his armor, Evan says the Falcon’s “role within the Marvel universe has answered the call to action time and time again. He’s proven his courage, loyalty and reliability over multiple films. Sam has given so much, and he’s also lost a lot too. He believes in something bigger than himself, and that type of humility is necessary to carry the shield.”

The question of Sam Wilson’s humanity will be explored at length in “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier,” what Mackie calls a deeper showcase for both himself and Stan and their characters. It was a prospect that at first confused and frightened him.

“I didn’t think we could do on the television what we’d been doing on the big screen. I didn’t want to be the face of the first Marvel franchise to fail. Like, ‘See? We cast the Black dude, and now this shit is awful.’ That was a huge fear of mine, and also a huge responsibility with playing a Marvel character,” Mackie says.

He was quickly assuaged by the level of depth in the scripts from head writer Malcolm Spellman (“Empire,” “Truth Be Told”), especially when it came to the nuances of Wilson — a Black American man with no powers beyond his badass wings.

“Sam Wilson as played by Mackie is different than a Thor or a Black Panther, because he’s not from another planet or a king from another country,” Feige says. “He’s an African American man. He’s got experience in the military and doing grief counseling with soldiers who have PTSD. But where did he grow up? Who is his family? Mackie was excited to dig into it as this man, this Black man in particular, in the Marvel version of the world outside our window.”

Mackie celebrates Sam’s relatability in a universe full of mythological gods and lab-made enforcers. “I’m basically the eyes and ears of the audience, if you were put in that position where you could go out and fight alongside superheroes. It adds a really nice quality to him, that he’s a regular guy who can go out there and do special things,” Mackie says.

While bound by standard Marvel-grade secrecy, the actor confirms there have been no discussions of a second season for “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.” As the majority of domestic movie theaters remain closed due to the coronavirus pandemic, he is equally unaware of the theatrical prospects for his Falcon character — or the Captain he may become by the end of this Disney Plus run. For now, he’s content to take up the mantle left by Boseman, a quietly understood pact of responsibility to Marvel-loving kids the world over.

“For Chad and I, [representation] was never a conversation that needed to be had because of our backgrounds. There was a hinted-at understanding between the two of us, because we’re both from humble beginnings in the South; we have very similar backgrounds. We knew what the game was. We knew going into it,” he says.

Outside comic book movies, Mackie is not done searching as a performer. There is a particular genre he would very much like to cut him a check.

“My team gets mad at me for saying this, but I would love to do a cheesy old-school ‘When Harry Met Sally’-type of project,” he says. “One of those movies where I’m working outside and have to take my shirt off because it’s too hot. I want a romantic comedy. I want to do every movie written for Matthew McConaughey that he passed on.”

[magnetarmadda]

Yo... I've followed you for a while and I see you talk about grad school here and there. I'm currently applying after a hefty six year gap since getting my bachelor's and I'm kinda.... scared. If it's not too prying--do you have any advice? Are you holding down a day job at the same time, or is that probably not a good idea? Is it really difficult to juggle it all?

Hey! Yeah, no problem, totally cool to ask! Warning, though, this has turned into a bit of an essay lol

Ngl my first reaction to most people being like “so grad school?” is to just straight up go “no don’t do it,” but that’s bc most people in my field go to grad school straight out of undergrad. So if you’ve seen me say stuff like “don’t go to grad school,” that’s why! It’s not for the faint of heart, but as a returning student, you’re more likely to be in a position to know about your mental and physical health, which is I think the most important part of being successful in grad school. My biggest advice is to create a support network both inside and outside of your program, and to start building the external network as you start applying--friends (hi!), family, coworkers, previous professors, etc. I am not exaggerating when I say I would’ve dropped out of the program if I didn’t have my external support network to help me keep things in perspective and to attempt to convince me to have a work-life balance

As to your other questions, I work as an adjunct faculty member at the local community college, where I teach 2-3 courses per semester on top of my teaching assistantship as my grad university. This is both because I want more experience teaching (I plan to teach in higher ed after I get my doctorate) and because being a TA doesn’t pay much (it’s really bad, that’s a whole issue--TAs and adjuncts are the teaching backbone of higher ed, and we get paid like shit and rarely get benefits). It’s really hard to balance everything, I’m not gonna lie, but every semester, it’s about finding a new rhythm. “What days do I teach? When are exams and homework due? When will I need to grade? What days require a lot of prep?” versus “what are my responsibilities as a student?” The second part will change as you get deeper into the program. As a fifth year, I no longer take courses and am instead in full-time dissertation mode, registering only for dissertation credits. I’m not a great example of work-life balance, but I’ve been working on it--therapy has helped a lot

That said, I have had a second part-time job (in addition to my assistantships) for all five years I’ve been in grad school. Many of my peers have full-time jobs outside of grad school, and some are married with children. it’s all possible, but it’s about finding what works for you and, again, having non-grad school people who can support the changes you’ll make in your life to make things happen. In my life, my husband cooks dinner and handles a lot of our finances so I don’t have to worry about those things; I have a friend whose wife takes the kids out for an activity every Wednesday evening so he can have dedicated time alone in the house (which has gotten more complicated with Covid, but the kids have had Lots of walks and snowball fights in the winter); I have another friend who lives alone and meal preps every Sunday to avoid worrying about what she’ll eat all week long, and to help with that, we all send her new recipes when she requests them

This is also where a grad school support system helps out a lot, too. I can vent to my external support network easily, and I’ve done it many times in my five years here, but when I want school help or solutions, there’s not much they can do for me. So I then turn to people in my cohort, to professors I’ve had as instructors or done research with, or other friends I’ve made who are also grad students but not necessarily in my cohort or program (or have recently graduated, as some of my friends have finished their degrees in the last year). I wasn’t actually friends with most of my initial cohort (I was weird, I was a concurrent student, meaning I was getting two graduate degrees simultaneously for a hot minute, and I’m referring to my doctoral program for this part). I get on with most of them, but we’re not close; I started to become good friends with a couple of my peers who are in the cohort two years behind me, and that’s helped the last few years a lot, especially now that we’re in a pandemic and so many things have been and continue to be virtual

I'm also upfront about this next bit (both with my professors/research mentor and my students, and online), but I have multiple chronic illnesses, am disabled, am neurodivergent, and have an anxiety disorder. This has made grad school a bit more of a nightmare for me than average--I was actually hospitalized over two years ago for my chronic migraines, and I’ve had to radically alter my personal program three separate times to get the point I’m at. But now I’m in my (hopefully) final year, working on my dissertation, and preparing for post-doctoral life (i.e., looking for professorships and post-docs). I don’t consider myself an inspiration by any means--I’m definitely more of a caution sign lol--and I absolutely made some choices early on in grad school that have negatively impacted my health for probably the rest of my life (not sleeping enough, not taking enough breaks, rarely exercising, horrible eating habits). That said, we’re all going through our own variety of A Lot in grad school, so I like to think we end up being a very supportive and understanding bunch

[kimkymury]

Blue Rose Tears - Chapter 14

Hello again,

 I’m back with another chapter of the Pascal x Carl fanfiction. The story is coming to an end, there will only be two more chapters before the Carl Messier saga comes to an end, so stay tuned in the next updates.

This chapter is softer and cuter, so prepare your hearts for the next ~

The Portuguese version of this story is available on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1048844817-as-l%C3%A1grimas-da-rosa-azul-cap%C3%ADtulo-14

I'm also posting the English version there, so if you want to follow it over there or reread a chapter, here it is: https://www.wattpad.com/story/262308791-blue-rose-tears

Under the cut!

Chapter 14

P.O.V Narrator

Carl's restlessness had persisted for three weeks, a period of time considered even short, but that was enough to depress him. He rubbed his pale hands together, trying to keep them from the cold. Winter had come, Lacombrade was surrounded by a vast white desert, which made the whole atmosphere of the place even darker. The school corridors managed to keep the temperature cool even on the hottest summer days, and now it looked like the walls were meant to freeze them.

The last month of the year always seemed to be the most physically demanding, getting out of bed in the morning became a more arduous task than usual. All he could think about was the comfort he would receive after the end of the school year, he could return to his family's house and spend Christmas with Sebastian. The sky was greyish in color, as if life was not present in that place, making everything even darker. But young students had no time to notice details like this, most of their time was spent preparing for final exams.

This time of year was both a delight and a torture, veterans were immensely concerned with the possible approval of a renowned university, while the other students focused on impressing their parents with good grades. There was a small portion that didn’t care about the tests, it was those repeating students, delinquents or even those who had no goal in mind for the coming year. Carl found himself in the large percentage who devoted themselves entirely to studying, putting other needs aside for a short period of time.

His thoughts could not keep his focus only on the books he studied, several flaws took his concentration, making him frustrated by wasting time. A red-haired figure was still rooted in his mind, for three weeks he had avoided contemplating the image of the scientist, but the memories of past moments were alive inside him.  That was still something that depressed him daily, he felt empty and dejected, what most led him to exhaustion was to act normally for his friends, avoiding any suspicious behavior. But life was not in Carl's favor, as if that wasn't enough to make him gloomy, he had still received sudden news.

Serge had recently said that he needed to talk to Carl in private, and that the matter was of the utmost importance. The religious boy did not know what to expect, a part of himself just asked what it could be, but another small part, in which his subtle fixation by the pianist still existed, made him nervous. He said it directly, without outspokenness or worries, explained the whole situation to his friend. Serge and Gilbert were leaving for Paris next week, and they had no intention of returning. The concept of the idea itself did not startle Carl, he had already heard stories of students who left Lacombrade without authorization or notice, deciding to live on their own or with a partner elsewhere. But when it came to his friends, his reaction was different, he feared what might happen.

He knew that life in Paris would be complicated, especially for two young men who had not even reached the age of majority, and were marginalized by all of society. His first concern was whether his friends would have somewhere to sleep and what to eat, and how they would survive until Serge officially received his title of Viscount, along with his father's possessions and inheritance.

Knowing Gilbert, he imagined that it would not be easy for him to live in an environment where he would be completely unprotected, not to mention the absence of his social skills. There were no questions or doubts, he knew all of Serge's motivations and how difficult the last few days have been for both of them, as he and his roommate were forcibly separated. It was not the time to expose his own insecurities, he should support his friends, even if he did not agree with his choice. He felt lonely, even though he was not literally alone, but everything would change over time.

Everyone grows up someday, the days of youth would eventually end, but that does not mean that this process would not be painful. Perhaps that was his farewell, there was a chance he would never see them again, especially after graduation.  Carl just wanted everything to go back to the way it was before, when his life was under control, when he was happier. His reaction was neutral when he received the news from Serge, he made his concerns evident, but he never failed to support him.

 He even offered to help them pack their belongings and organize their luggage. It would be a difficult time for everyone, especially for them, any sign of positivity and help was welcome.

The pianist was delighted with the response of the religious boy, just as he expected, he spared no thanks before going.

"I knew I could count on you." - A simple sentence that meant a lot to Carl

.

Being alone again, the dark-haired boy was left to reflect on what he was doing. After only a few minutes, he was able to firmly understand the gravity of the situation, and his despair began to surface. Breaking one of the school rules was not what frustrated him the most, but to be witnessing a sin without intervening, the motivations of his friends' flight were diverse, but the relationship they had was what most influenced the decision.

Even if he wanted to, he could not deny the request coming from Serge, he would not endure the guilt he would feel at the thought that it did not help in any way. Looking more closely, when he looked at Serge and Gilbert together, he didn't see anything negative. He felt a certain relief when he saw them close, as if this situation were natural and common, thoughts of judgment rarely appeared.

He recognized that the independence of the pianist would be extremely useful to live alone in Paris, but what intrigued him the most was how the blond boy's adaptation would take place. He hadn't handled changes, rules or responsibilities in general well, but Carl didn't criticize him for that, he just wished he didn't suffer. The empathy he felt for Gilbert gradually increased, and it was not long since he had an experience that made him look at it differently.

~ FlashBack from two weeks ago ~

 Carl's warm breath left a mark in the air as he exhaled the cold winter air, with his clothes made especially for this harsh season, he felt protected from the cold that surrounded him.  He was beginning to regret having gone for a walk around the school, he did not imagine that the thick layer of snow that covered the earth could slow his steps. The only sounds he could hear were the noises of the few animals that had not heard, along with the sound of the wind passing through the dry branches of the trees.

 Nothing would be different from what he was used to, except for one detail that caught his attention, they were low noises that seemed to come from close by. He could not immediately identify what it was about, he imagined that it could be some wounded or abandoned animal, but as he followed the sound, he was surprised by what he saw.

A boy whose skin could camouflage himself in the snow thanks to his coloring, lying face down, totally immobile. Only a thin piece, which resembled sleeping clothes, covered his torso, leaving the rest of his body exposed. His blond hair covered his face, making it impossible to decide whether he was conscious or not. Around him there were red spots, together on his body and on the fabric that covered him, which made him resemble a deceased.

For a few seconds, Carl felt completely frozen, there was no reaction. His heart started to race, he quickly knelt beside the body, checking immediately if there was any sign of life left in him. He was not as surprised as he expected, after all, it was Gilbert, he had already seen him in situations similar to this one, although it was not as serious as this time. He turned him over and placed him in his arms, relieved to see that his cheeks were flushed and that he was breathing.

There was a cut on his lips, the red liquid spread over a part of his face, making Carl even more tense when he saw him in that state. He should call for help, leaving Gilbert in such a sick state in such precarious conditions could be considered a homicide. The school was a few meters from where they were, the blond boy visibly could not walk, he could barely stay fully awake. The religious boy would have to carry him until he found someone who could help him, which immediately made him think of Pascal.

It was not the time for such thoughts to take hold of him, his greatest concern was to keep Gilbert alive, he could not bear to see him leave precisely in his arms, when he could save him.

"Gilbert, answer me, please! Can you hear me?" - He asked distressed, fearing that the worst had happened.

The younger boy's icy hands moved in vain, trying to reach something that didn't exist, while his lips trembled due to the low temperature. He was staring at a specific point, although he blinked a few times, before looking at whoever held it.

"Serge ..." - A faint murmur came out in an almost inaudible tone, a single word was able to sadden Carl.

Gilbert did not care for himself, at no time did he cry out for help or any kind of comfort, he just longed for the presence of his beloved pianist. He didn't think he could be confused with Serge, so he supposed it was a request for him to be taken to him. The communication methods of the green-eyed boy were confusing, subjective and not always coherent, but those who knew him the longest could understand. Carl quickly removed his coat and put it around Gilbert, trying to keep him warm; and with a handkerchief that he kept in his pocket, he wiped away most of the blood that spread on his face.

"I will have to carry you, please, hold on a little longer!" - Wrapping his arms around his thin, weak body, he used all the strength he had to get him out of the snow and take him to school.

It was easier than he imagined, the blond boy's lightness made him easy to hold, it made him increase his speed in the direction he had come from. Along the way, he constantly checked vital signs by pressing his hand on Gilbert's chest, where he could feel the slight contractions of breathing and heartbeat. Upon entering Lacombrade, he quickly ran to the infirmary, asking for immediate help and handing the boy over to one of the teachers to put him on a bed. It didn't take long before more people came to know what happened, but the only thing that interested him was Serge.

Carl managed to catch sight of him from a distance, and waved as he came running towards her. He was taken by surprise, a desolate embrace enveloped him, he had to hold on to whoever was in front of him so as not to lose his balance.

"We were told what happened, we came as quickly as we could, Pascal and Kurt will be here soon"- The pianist wraps around him in torment, his voice could express the pain he felt.

Still in silence, he hugged him back, saying words of comfort to calm him down. He doubted his own words, prayed internally that Gilbert would resist, he couldn't leave now. His condition was serious, perhaps worse than the other occasions that found him injured. They were anxiously waiting for Professor Watts to bring good news, he still remembered the blond boy's expression when he stared at him. Time passed quickly, Pascal's medical care would certainly make a difference in Gilbert's improvement. He was still asleep, only one of the boys could enter at a time, which made everyone even more anxious.

The countless thanks from Serge soothed him, as he knew he had been useful, and if he hadn't made the decision to go for a walk, the blond boy would probably not be among them.

Carl was the last to enter the room where Gilbert rested, accepting only by requests from his friends and teachers, since he was the one who had saved him from death. The sight of the young blond man sleeping soundly was a relief to the religious boy, he could observe the movements of his breathing, and his appearance seemed healthier. He approached lightly and cautiously, already imagining a possible outbreak from the blond boy, similar in other situations that occurred in the past when they tried to help him.

The eyes of the one who slept before opened slowly, trying to understand what was happening and where he was. To the surprise of the dark-haired boy, there was no aggressive or immediate reaction, it was as if he was conscious all this time. Gilbert looked at Carl with his usual empty expression, which left him a little scared and at the same time paralyzed, he feared the younger boy, even if he did not admit it, perhaps because he did not fully understand him.

"Where did you bring me?" - A low and soft voice asked, without showing much emotion.

"We are in the infirmary, how are you feeling?" -He replied hesitantly, since he had not had the chance to have a dialogue considered "appropriate" with Gilbert.

The blond boy sat on the bed, despite the protests of the dark-haired boy, saying that he shouldn't be bothered and needed to rest. He wrapped himself in the blankets and covered his face with his hands, as if he were avoiding being seen in such a vulnerable state.

"You didn't have to do that ... I would be better out there." - Gilbert said as he rested his head on his knees, raising just a little to look at him.

 He could feel his pain with just one sentence, knew his "bad habits", knew that he tried several times to take his own life. A feeling of sadness invaded Carl, even though he didn't know him well enough to give his opinion on something, he didn't want to see him suffering like that.

"I had to do it, you would die if you were still there!" -Carl said anguished, not understanding the reason behind Gilbert's behavior, and blamed himself for having sounded more emotional than he expected.

 There was a silence, none of them said anything else after that, and the religious boy felt that he should go back to his own room. Gilbert was safe and he had been useful, just as he should have been.  He said goodbye and started walking towards the door, stopping in front of it after hearing something.

"Thank you ..." - The green-eyed boy said as he watched him leave the infirmary, in an almost inaudible and emotionless voice on his face.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" - Thinking he was wrong, Carl asks what was said, he never heard Gilbert say something like that.

"I said thank you, now leave me alone ..." - He replied, using an arrogant tone this time, making it evident that he was not comfortable saying this kind of thing.

The religious boy did as he was asked, but from this day on, he started to have more compassion for Gilbert, seeing him in a more humanized way. The blond boy felt that he could trust Carl, if only a little. Both established a bond that determined the beginning of a friendship, perhaps in a peculiar and dark way, but it was still important.

~ End of Flashback ~

Thoughts like this made the future farewell a difficult task, but his restlessness was filled daily with studies and chores, which took up most of his time as the end of the year approached. His winter afternoons, which in the past used to be quiet, were now spent within the Church, taking up full-time Bible studies. He had decided to dedicate himself to Theology after graduation, leaving Lacombrade in about a year or two, along with the memories he created there.

The innumerable verses were not enough to erase the images that haunted him, the moments he spent in the greenhouse or in the laboratory were still fresh in his mind. He constantly martyred himself, because even after he left the scientist, his presence continued as much in his life as in his thoughts. None of his friends had known of the disagreement that had occurred between them, which made it all the more difficult, since they saw each other frequently and could not make evident the coldness with which they treated each other.

The days that followed had not been easy for Pascal either, he could hardly keep his concentration on his experiments, and his failures frustrated him more than usual. From the laboratory window, he could occasionally watch Carl walking around or heading towards the Church, and this was a way to fill his loneliness.  He was preparing to leave Lacombrade in a few weeks, but his main concern at the moment was with the escape of his friends. He had carefully planned how he could help, and all the advice he could give before he left.

His letter to the German University had been answered recently, along with an invitation to the admission test that would guarantee his entry, even with his poor academic performance. For days he had been rehearsing inside his head how he would say this to others, he did not worry about their reaction, he already imagined it would be at least positive. What distressed him was the dark-haired boy, according to the circumstances, it was not appropriate to just say it as he would have done in the past, but he could not leave in secret. At the same time that he yearned for new opportunities and a decrease in his pain, he knew that he would suffer for not having him around, and that made him reflect more than he would like.

Pascal was to leave with the veterans, travel to the neighboring country to accomplish his parents' ambition, and which in the future would become his own. His departure date would be close to when Serge and Gilbert left for Paris, the second week of December would be one of the most turbulent. Part of the luggage was ready, the farewell and thank you cards were already written, it was enough to wait anxiously for that day. He still had one more concern, he didn't tell anyone he was leaving Lacombrade, and he had no idea how to do it. He reluctantly made the decision to tell his closest friends about his departure, and kindly asked them not to say anything to Carl, as he wanted to say it on another occasion. The boys were suspicious, which was in fact natural, as they assumed he would be the first to know, but they listened to the scientist and did what was asked.

His sisters and parents were informed afterwards, they would probably receive his letter after departure, but he explained in detail the reasons for his choice and what he would do next. In the letter, he said goodbye to each of his sisters, asking them how they were doing and making them promise to keep in touch.

Dorothy, Mei, Nina, Lila, Sonya and, her favorite among all, Patricia; he expressed the immense longing to have them close by, and that he would endeavor to make them proud. He reserved a part of his letter dedicated to his parents and his half brother, Michel, who had recently fallen ill again. He couldn't help it and was a little thrilled by rereading the words dedicated to his younger brother, he was very concerned about his fragile health and recommended frequent rest and healthy eating.

Part of his duties had been done, now he must prepare himself to be as convenient as possible to assist Serge and Gilbert's escape. He then decided to write a series of instructions, recipes and advice for when they are in Paris, and knowing the blond boy well, he focused on teaching the pianist to take care of injuries and advising him on how to deal with possible outbreaks of his companion.  The written pages were carefully folded and placed inside a small wooden box, where there were some medicines, produced by Pascal himself. This served both as a substitute doctor and as a reminder of him.  A considerable amount of money was placed in the middle of the medications, just before being closed and tied tightly with a ribbon, in order to withstand the long journey.

The redhead sighs looking at the calendar again, the end of the year was approaching faster than he would have liked, and to make matters worse, it was not ending the way he would have liked. The classes that day had ended, the scientist insisted on attending all of them, as he wished to have Lacombrade's memories recorded in his mind. There was nothing more to be done, he could do whatever he wanted until nightfall, boredom chased him as he walked slowly through the laboratory. Harvesting specimens of plants that survived the winter did not sound bad, it would be a good distraction to prevent bad thoughts from depressing him.

With reasonably slow steps and a calm expression, Pascal heads for the greenhouse, passing the corridors full of students. That everyday scene managed to awaken a feeling of nostalgia in him, which made him happy and saddened at the same time. In the midst of that crowd, the faces of the boys who walked there were mixed and confused, he was unable to recognize them, except for one in particular. A boy with white skin and a little pink from exposure to low temperature, with perfectly combed dark hair, came towards him while carrying a small pile of books.

They walked in opposite directions, there was not even an exchange of glances, both went on their way without imagining what was going on in the other's mind. The dark-haired young man hid the tension he had felt when he saw the scientist in a discreet way, rushing his steps to the library, while trying to appear overly frightened not to arouse suspicion. His efforts were not in vain, Pascal firmly believed that his presence was not noticed and there was no relevance to Carl, which hurt him deeply. The attention of those who wanted it so much and who had always been by his side, was now a very rare event to happen, and it was always covered by a thick layer of coldness and formality.

He rubbed his hands, warmed by wool gloves, in order to relieve the pain he felt at his fingertips. There were few species of plants that were able to withstand the dense layers of snow, most of which consisted of dry branches or leaves that could fall apart with a single touch. Walking in a straight line, he crossed a part of the forest and ended up finding a large building in front of him. It was the well-known chapel of Lacombrade, he did not agree with the choice of name, the structure was too majestic, a masterpiece of architecture to be considered just a chapel.

It had been some time since he had visited such a place, he would go only in times of extreme need, he was not interested in religion at all. Even with his lack of belief in the divine, he could not deny that he was able to admire every part of that wonderful building, he was enchanted by the details and the grandeur of the torrers. He watched the small snowflakes falling delicately in different regions, especially under a cross that was at the top of the Church. It was this same cross that facilitated the identification of the building over long distances, and it was the one that cast a long shadow on summer afternoons, where the sun was in the perfect position.

The scientist remained motionless for a few seconds, lost in thought, and feeling foolish for what he was about to say to himself:

"I doubt your existence, I don't think you are around here or anywhere else." - He said in an almost inaudible tone of voice, still keeping his eyes towards the sky - "But if it is, do not allow that depressive countenance to remain on Carl's face ..."

He did not believe that his words could change anything, he quickly moved away from the Church and walked in a random direction, berating himself for speaking to a being, who for Pascal, was nonexistent.  His words might seem vague, but his intentions did not, he could see the changes in the religious boy's behavior from a distance. He no longer smiled as often, he isolated himself from his other companions, with whom he had always accompanied him before.

 He could use whatever excuses he wanted, he didn't want to appear arrogant, but he felt that such changes had occurred thanks to what they felt for each other. Pascal still remembered perfectly the moment when Carl confessed everything he felt, remembered how strong his heart was beating and the feeling of the last time they embraced.

The same boy who missed him so much, was now surrounded by books, forcing himself to keep his eyes open and continue to read them. The most varied subjects were not enough to keep him focused, his mind was often lost in thoughts that he wanted to avoid. The causes of his distraction were the most diverse, he was concerned about the escape plan that would take place on Friday night, he feared that his lack of concentration would hamper his performance in the final tests.

It wasn't just that that troubled him, Pascal's image came to mind when he least expected it. He missed his presence, his conversations, having him around and all the good times they shared, delving into this type of memory was what made him worse. But there were other sensations that young Carl remembered more than he would like, he lowered his head when he remembered the arms around him, and the texture of his lips next to his. He felt like a failure for not being able to forget, but deep down, he wished he could experience it all again.

The dark-haired boy reflected on how difficult the past weeks had been, it frustrated and tired him. He felt prickled in his head, which made it more difficult for him to concentrate and caused continuous discomfort. Such pain was caused by the excess of alcohol he had consumed the night before, he used to drink when he felt frustrated, but what was something occasional, started to be a recurring habit.

Most of the time, the amount was not enough to make him drunk, but the dark-haired boy had crossed his limits yesterday. He needed to get his feelings out, his frustrations were too heavy for him to carry on in silence. The bottles hidden in his closet were his confidants, the only ones that saw him in his most deplorable state.

He felt weak, he knew it would happen if he drank more than he was used to, so why did he insist on continuing? He was becoming what he promised not to become, he feared that those bad habits were his only reason for living.

Fiery waters erode inside him, inflict so much pain on him that he is able to forget what it really hurts.

"The only moments I stop thinking about this is when I can't even think ..."

His greatest comfort was the calendar, the days passed quickly and the moment when he returned home was getting closer and closer. That year's vacation would be a good one, he could stay with his family during the holidays, and maybe even travel together. He planned every detail of the next two months in his head, which served as a distraction and gave him hope. He would participate in dances, he could cycle around the house with Sebastian, just like when they were younger; he would wake up without the worries and fear of judgment.

He would walk the long corridors of his house, listening only to the sound of his own steps, read all the books he wished and enjoy the visits of family and friends. It all seemed too perfect, and it really was, all he wanted most were moments of joy like these. But everything was still not quite right, the harsh reality would come back to haunt him at the beginning of the following year.

He would feel even more alone, thinking about how Serge and Gilbert would be living on their own in Paris, facing the dangers that surrounded Lacombrade outside.

He focused on what was about to happen, he would need to be there that needed his help, he could take care of his own problems alone, after everything was over. Everyone had been informed in detail about the big day, counting down the minutes to Friday night, where they allowed friends to achieve freedom and hope for a happier life. Carl felt anxious, feared that they would be discovered, that something unexpected would happen, or worse, that they would not be able to survive outside.

This was his biggest fear at the moment, he realized recently that his feelings towards the pianist had diminished considerably. He no longer saw him as an idol or someone unreachable for some time, his presence turned into something normal, and his anguish about this matter seemed to be finally disappearing.

There was only one thing about Serge that Carl longed for: his happiness. He was delighted at how devoted, loyal and enamored the pianist was for his blond companion, when he saw them together, it was as if they could complement each other in some way. He saw them as opposites, which was really true, but they worked perfectly well together.

They were kindred spirits, that was a fact, however immoral and sinful Carl might find, he somehow wanted to experience it. He dreamed of being able to have someone by his side, someone who knew him better than anyone else and that he felt completely comfortable being himself. The young Carl Messier longed for someone to love, and when he was finally able to find ...

The sentence was not completely formulated in his mind, because soon after he started to cry among the books, silently and with caution so that he would not be noticed by the other students. He begged for forgiveness and to give him strength, it was the moment when he needed it most.

A few days have passed since what happened in the library, which Carl would rather not remember and imagine that nothing happened. He was now in room 17, surrounded by suitcases and crates, along with his friends. They had agreed to assist Serge and Gilbert in packing their belongings before the trip, since all help was welcome and it was another opportunity to spend a moment together before leaving. That half of the second week of December had been hectic for everyone, those who were staying were busy preparing for the final exams, and those who were leaving longed for their longed-for freedom, and took every possible care not to be discovered.

 The room seemed even smaller with the number of people present; Kurt and Neka, boasting of their physical strength and athletic build, chose to carry whatever was heavier. Serge and Gilbert carefully removed their clothes from the closet and folded them on the bed, the blond boy preferred to do this silently and alone, while the pianist talked to little Sebastian, who helped him with the task.  And lastly, Pascal and Carl arranged the books in small piles and tied them up so they wouldn't be wrinkled during the trip. Although they did the same task, the two boys remained physically distant, each preferring to occupy an opposite side of the room.

The presence of everyone made the atmosphere more pleasant, although they had to pretend that nothing had happened between the two, that they remained close as always. This made the situation even more embarrassing for both of them, who struggled to maintain physical and emotional distance.

There were many moments when they exchanged glances across the room, they looked at each other frequently and tried to hide it afterwards, they could feel the tension rising in the air. The little space did not contribute to the distance, since they had to get out of the way so that Kurt and Neka could carry the heaviest luggage around the room. They were sitting on the bed of Serge, the red-haired scientist with Carl, beside a pile of books and other objects. Gilbert sat on his own bed, close to Serge and Sebastian, who watched the other two boys position their bags in the center of the room.

The religious boy greatly appreciated the fact that his brother was sociable enough to be able to hold a conversation for a long time, preventing the awkward silence from taking over the room.

The body language of Pascal and the boy who was now sitting next to him could not deceive anyone. They avoid eye contact and act as if the presence of the other does not exist, hoping that this will not be seen strangely. In a moment of carelessness, where everyone engaged in casual conversation, Carl was distracted from the subject and lost himself in his thoughts. He admired Pascal carefully, watching the details of his appearance and trying to see if anything had changed during the time they stayed away.

His red, tousled hair remained the same, perhaps a little longer than he had noticed the last time, sometimes falling in front of his eyes. Carl realized what he was doing, and punished himself mentally for it, the withdrawal would be of no use if his mentality remained the same. He didn't know how long he had fixed his eyes on the red-haired boy, but he just hoped it wasn't long enough to be noticed. Unfortunately, the person the religious boy had so praised earlier for keeping the conversation flowing was responsible for exposing what he so longed to hide.

"What's the matter, Carl? Do you see something that caught your attention?" - The younger boy said, mocking his brother.

He hesitated to answer for a second, everyone was looking at him curiously now, he felt frozen and avoided this as much as possible. He made a point of mentally recalling having a conversation with Sebastian later, being irritated by looking like a fool. His brother looked at him with a mischievous smile, as if he knew something

"What are you talking about? Don't change the subject so suddenly." - Carl luckily was able to formulate a convincing sentence, he returned to the topic that was being discussed before Sebastian's provocation

Fortunately, there was not much more to be done, in a few minutes they all went back to their respective rooms. The corridor of room 17 was empty now, except for the presence of two brothers, who enjoyed the silence to talk.  Carl made Sebastian wait for everyone to leave to talk to him, he seemed authoritarian, but that didn't bother his younger brother. The younger boy already hoped that his antics would have a consequence, but that only served to amuse him even more. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed and a smile on his face, Sebastian asks his brother:

"What would you like to talk about, Carl?"

Cynical as always, it irritated the older brother from time to time, because he did not have this malice when he was his age. Discussions between them were rare, Carl usually scolded him and he smiled as if he didn't care.

"Keep your inopportune comments to yourself ..." - He replied with a serious expression, trying to command respect, which didn't work much.

Sebastian never saw him as an authority figure, even though he tried very hard to make it happen, in the end he was still his good older brother, victim of his mischief. His comment did not bother the youngest boy at all, on the contrary, he only made him smile before positioning himself in front of him. With a childish and innocent laugh, the younger brother subtly mocked the sermon he was receiving.

"Be smart, hiding that you love someone makes everything more noticeable, I've told you that before!" - Sebastian said before running out towards his own room, which was in the opposite direction from room 17.

The religious boy, perplexed by what he had just heard, did not answer anything and stayed there for a few moments. He did not believe that someone as young as his brother, managed to understand the real reason for his behavior.  He wondered what else he could know and be omitting, he feared rumors would spread through Lacombrade, since his brother was Rosemariné's assistant.  He would be more cautious from now on, especially with Sebastian, as his childish appearance was only a cover for his great intelligence.  Indeed, one of the most pure and naive young men, he had the precocious brother he could ever have.

Continued in the next chapter

Written by KimKymury, Thank you for reading it <3

[rmichaelwahlquist]

Juilliard is the tip of the iceberg. If Juilliard grads are struggling to find work – coming from one of the the most prestigious and well funded programs in the country, with some of the most high profile instructors – imagine the job prospects of all the state school grads. It's hard to imagine any scenarios where potential employers are going to take a ***** State University candidate over someone from Juilliard.

What follows may be my longest tumblr essay ever, buckle up for a ride through the perils of music education and a few ideas and solutions along the way!

And yet music programs around the country continue to expand the number of students in their programs – more students is after all in best interest of the institution (more students=more funding) – somehow without much regard to the hard numbers of how well these graduates will do in their careers.

Now, I work in music education and I readily acknowledge that changing this system is like changing the course of a glacier. For over two hundred years the higher education system in music has focused on a relatively narrow range of topics and techniques to train musicians. Berlioz's irreverent send-up of scholastic fugues during the finale of his 1830 Symphonie Fantastique is just one early example of students rankling at the limits of what was taught in school.

And for the first hundred or so years of the conservatory system (the 1800s), especially when it came to orchestral musicians, the product generally matched the demand - well trained musicians to play the music of the times.

On the other hand, I defend the traditional idea that not everything about a music education in a university has to be about job preparedness. For example, whether or not a musician teaches music history or theory for their career, I believe they should be well rounded and have a knowledge of those things. I tell my students: you want to be the whole package. And no matter what innovations come in music education, it would seem unquestionable that certainly the program should train musicians in excellent technique and performance.

I don't have the answers. I wish I did. I wish every person who wants to make music for a living could go to college and leave prepared to have an enjoyable, reliably profitable career in making the music that makes them happy. But right off the bat if you want to make pop (or any popular genre of) music or video game music or movie music – most university programs can hardly begin to help you with that. While some few specialized programs exist, you've really got to be the cream of the crop in the first place to even get your foot in those doors.

But where are the musicians making the money today? What skills do they have that enable them to make this living? And why does a music education have so little to do with either of those answers?

Many first year music students are surprised and disappointed to find that unless they want to be a band conductor, an orchestra musician, or a private instructor, being a music major may not be for them. And indeed it may not be! Many of the 20th century's and now 21st century's most wealthy and successful musicians became so without a formal music education behind them. Same for many of the ones who, while not wealthy, are working in studios and in live gigs with a steady income. Talent, work and creativity have always mattered a lot more in music than a piece of paper from an institution.

I have been wondering lately whether all of this really boils down to the fallout from the invention of recording technology over a century ago. Prior to the age of recordings, western musical notation had had a thousand years to develop and influence the way music was made, performed, and disseminated. Simply put, if you wanted to write, share, or perform music widely, then written music notation was pretty much the only way to do so. The accumulation of this tradition lead to the heights of late 19th century romanticism and the dawn of musical modernism. It's a staggering artistic achievement for humanity, no doubt about it, and it was all made possible because each generation could build on the written tradition of the previous one.

However, the advent of audio recordings abruptly interrupted (and/or accelerated) this progression/fragmentation. The need for creating and reading sheet music has gone from being universal to being niche - as long as the song can be performed, it can be recorded. The middle-man of notation no longer has a monopoly. This has led to the rise of new genres and commercial aspects of music that have fluctuated with the changing times and technology.

Jazz is an interesting case – an entirely new musical genre whose rise I would credit to recording and broadcast technology. Suddenly you didn't have to have tickets to an exclusive venue, training at a fancy school, or even the sheet music. You copied and learned from what you heard on the radio or recordings. You learned right from the best, right in the comfort of your home. You got playing experience doing live gigs. The genre evolved rapidly from Jelly Roll Morton to Louis Armstrong to Duke Ellington to Charlie Parker to Miles Davis to John Coltrane in just a few decades, becoming a well established and vibrant musical language – so well established that it can now retroactively enter higher music education. Those early jazzers would be quite amused, I think, that you can now (as I once did) get a degree in jazz.

Unfortunately, the same effect may be happening to Jazz education as happened to classical music education – the education becomes more about preserving the past than about keeping the music itself alive. (Have you heard some of the things the best jazz musicians are doing today? It is as far from even the wild jazz of the 60s as the earth is to the moon. Still recognizably jazz but not anything you'll learn in school!) Perhaps by its nature, a music education is only capable of teaching about the past. But I think that's an assumption worth challenging.

We may expect a trained jazz musician to be able to play big band styles and bebop with equal fluency, much the same way a violinist may be expected to play Bach and Brahms and Boulez. But is there a point at which a music education becomes too fixated on the past without adequately preparing for the right now, let alone the future, of life as a musician?

In fact, every non-notated music tradition is at risk of the same effect due to recordings. Say you recorded a native music maker from an endangered tradition in the early or mid 1900s. Now for all time, to make music in that tradition there is this temptation to calcification - hardening the whole style around a few interpretations just because they happen to be the earliest of which we have record. The reality is that no musical style ever stays the same forever. Those recorded in the 1900s were not even doing the music in the exact same as their parents, let alone 50 or a 100 years prior. The times changed, the people changed, the music changed.

It will always be that way. Music education may be a glacier set on its course but the flow of music increasingly is finding its way around and beyond it in terms of the art, the artists, the culture, and the money. Now, the times still change, the people still change, the music still changes, while the cultural and practical relevance of a formal music education wanes and wanes.

Man, I hate being so negative about this, but to fix things you have to first diagnose the problem. So let me propose a few solutions or at least work-arounds, especially for music majors.

- don't go into a music degree expecting it to do everything for you. Understand what it is and what it isn't. It will help you be a good musician. It may not prepare you for many other aspects of the career. You can do everything right in a music degree, pass with 'top marks', and still not be ready to go to work in your field.

- do look for opportunities to perform and make music outside the university. How do you expect to suddenly have music making be a money-making enterprise if you haven't already been practicing that? Why wait until you are a 'pro' to start a youtube channel, self release recordings on bandcamp or soundcloud, to self publish sheet music on sheetmusicplus.com? It takes time to build up a following and a reputation and it doesn't come automatically just when you get a diploma.

- do everything you can to learn about music business, copyright, contracts, recording, sound engineering, advertising, etc. whether or not it is required for a class. Learn what you need to know, not just the minimum for the grade or degree.

- be disciplined with your time. Give due diligence to your classes and practice but don't let those things take over the rest of your time. Balance your life and your art. If you don't learn to do that in school you'll have to learn it while trying to start your career...and why wait until that crucial period?

- you've got to be quite committed to make a music career work. It may involve participation in a combination of money-making streams - academia, private lessons, performances, recording, etc. You may even have to balance music making with other non-music income (I know of a successful composer who loves her second career as a yoga instructor). Carefully consider if all this is for you. You can have a lifelong, satisfying and fulfilling engagement with music making without ever making it the sole focus of your study or employment. There is no shame in seeking stability in a career, which music just can't promise.

- don't dismiss the value of the things in your college education that may not be "directly" relevant to the functioning of your music career. Modern college education has a foundation in the ideal that each person should have a well rounded grasp of some of the basics of the world. There's a reason all college grads are required to take classes like math or sociology or science. Practice finding that reason with each class and you'll have a happier time getting through those hoops. There can be relevance in pretty much any topic but don't expect college to spoon-feed you the application of that knowledge.

- Same goes for music topics that seem irrelevant. Just because the class is talking about music history, theory or repertoire that seems useless to you, it doesn't mean that you don't want to know those things as a musician. As I wrote above, you want to be the whole package: a well rounded musician who understands a thing or two about many aspects of life, the world, and music culture specifically.

- do take advantage of every resource that is available for your success. This may not be only within the university system. Look everywhere for mentors, professional contacts, grants, support, performance opportunities, learning opportunities and creative outlets. If you meet somebody who is making it work, pick their brain, ask for their help! If you aren't a voracious type of learner inside and outside of school, being a music major is going to be a tough road. Why suffer through four plus years just to eke out the degree that may not even lead you to a job?

- make the music of TODAY, of RIGHT NOW. Make music that matters to you and to your peers. Make music that is relevant and current and is more than a living museum. Don't be afraid of new music, be afraid of a world without new music!

- keep up with changes in the industry, especially paying attention to where the money is coming from and going. A music career doesn't have to be all about money but, you know, making a living matters unless you are 'of independent means'. Could be NFTs, could be grants, could be (as in the article above) playing your instrument with unusual ensembles. Be as creative with your income pursuits as you are in your art and I bet you can find a happy balance between making the music you like and making money in the process.

- don't give up hope that all the brokenness I mention above can be fixed. Total cultural change is possible and perhaps inevitable within a generation. Balance learning from the past with a push to make a difference in the directions you want to see.

I'll see you in a more vibrant and sonically rich world!

R. Michael Wahlquist | March 2021 | Rexburg, Idaho

[atlanticcanada]

Another month learning at home for N.S. students

Thousands of Nova Scotia students, along with their parents and teachers, are now bracing for another month of online learning.

That's after the province announced Friday that all public and private schools will remain closed for the month of May due to surging COVID-19 case numbers.

"I'm trying as hard as I can, I think all parents are really trying," says Allison Stephens. She's been busy helping her seven-year-old daughter learn from home in Windsor, N.S., while also trying to manage her home-based jewelry business.

"I'm helping her through the day with her online school, then I'm working into the night," she says.

The news that pattern will have to continue until at least the end of the month is a bit overwhelming.

"I think I'm echoing all the other parents that I've talked to that the idea of doing that is stressful," she says.

In the province's COVID-19 update Friday afternoon, the premier said schools will stay closed for the rest of May, "at least."

"We'll reassess at the end of the month to determine whether students can go back to class in June," Iain Rankin said.

The head of the union representing the province's teachers says it's the best move to make.

"Given where we are with the epidemiology, it's the right thing to do, it's the right call … to keep teachers and students, and the communities safe," says Paul Wozney. 

Wozney says there's no evidence at the moment to suggest students have suffered any so-called "learning loss," and suggests students here have been at an advantage over others across the country, as Nova Scotia only shut down schools completely April 27.

But the timing is especially tough for Grade 12 students, whose last year of high school looks like it may end much differently than it started.

Sara Fitzgerald's son will be graduating from Sackville High School this year. She credits teachers for keeping her son's academic year on track after the shift to online learning.

"The only thing we can do is support our kids as much as we can," she says, "and help them out as much as possible with this whole learning from home."

Seventeen-year-old Kenzie Coffin will be graduating from Charles P. Allen High School in Bedford, N.S. this year. She says learning in the classroom was easier for her, and many of her classmates.

"It's not great, it's definitely been a rough adjustment for a lot of people."

She had been hoping for in-person graduation this year, but now she's not sure that will happen.

"It's kind of hard knowing that the cases are going up and probably not going to be able to have that opportunity," she says.

For now, all students, parents, and teachers can do is continue with online learning, watch the province's case numbers, and hope for the best.​

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/3ttmiMu

[chaoswillfallrpg]

ALICIA AVERY-JONES is FIFTY-FIVE YEARS OLD and THE HEAD OF THE AUROR’S OFFICE in THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT at THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC. She looks remarkably like VIOLA DAVIS and considers herself NEUTRAL. She is currently OPEN.

→ OVERVIEW:

tw: death, murder

Alicia-Avery Jones is a name equated with excellence in the wizarding world. A feared and famous Auror before she took on the role of head of the Auror’s Office, Alicia is a powerhouse who rules her workplace with an iron fist. The middle child of famed Quidditch player EMMERSON AVERY and socialite ANGELIKI BROWN, Alicia had a charmed life and was raised in the beautiful village of Alton. Her childhood was staged in Avery Castle, which sat high above the Muggle village and allowed for brilliant viewing when staring out from the drawing room window. The Avery family were famed in the wizarding world, retaining their wealth by becoming the backbone of the British and Irish Quidditch League. Alicia’s siblings, her older brother EDWIN AVERY and younger sister EUDORA were flying not long after they began walking. Alicia was different. Their home had an extensive library and whilst her siblings flew around the pitch on their grounds as their mother watched and drank lemonade, Alicia would pull books out and flick through them on the lawn. The Avery family had been flyers for generations but with two children already taking to the skies and their lineage firmly intact, Alicia was encouraged to follow her mind. Through her books she visited far away lands, read about their ancestors and joined long voyages with great explorers or read the manifestos of great sorcerers who longed to make a change in the world.

Through books, Alicia became obsessed with the idea that a single person could inflict change. Sitting under the hat at eleven years old it considered her options, she had such drive, determination, wit and intelligence… “GRYFFINDOR!” It shouted as Alicia ran to take her place next to Edwin. Alicia had never quite considered herself much of a Gryffindor, but accepted the will of that hat and that it had glimpsed more for Alicia in Gryffindor. Amongst the loud personalities of the house of lions, Alicia was able to hold her own becoming friends with fellow bookworm MINERVA MCGONAGALL who had also seemed like more of a Ravenclaw to her. Her time at Hogwarts was largely in the shadow of the close of The Global Wizarding War, with friends beginning to drop off her radar as whispers about blood purity became louder, leaving her with mostly Minerva and TOBIAS MISSELTHROPE for friends who shared her liberal opinion that blood did not define the sorcerer. When ALBUS DUMBLEDORE returned from his famed duel in Alicia’s sixth year to take up the mantle of headmaster, it confirmed everything Alicia had already believed in. It was up to the individual to change the world and whilst there was good in society who were willing to stand up and defend it they would never fall into what Grindelwald had been planning. Graduating a former Perfect and Head Girl, Alicia quickly enrolled in the Auror Programme and began her training.

A fierce duellist, Alicia stood out in class, Alicia trained and read all day, sacrificing any form of a personal life which would become a staple for her. Her younger years saw Alicia leave a string of broken hearts behind her, but none was more painful then her first girlfriend JOSEPHINE BATES. Alicia met Jo during her training at the academy, a fresh faced eighteen year old, at the time it had felt like love but Alicia knew it wasn’t built to last. Josephine was an adventurous soul whose life had meaning according to love rather than work and soon Alicia’s long hours drove a wedge between them. It was at this point she met BALTHAZAR JONES, a prosecution barrister at Wizengamot and someone Alicia was tasked with working closely with on a case that was about to pass through the court. An expert witness for Balthazar, the two spent an intense period of time going over the case, united in a singular goal. Balthazar was someone Alicia truly admired. Like Alicia his work was his life and the passion and conviction that he pursued his cases with were incredibly similar to that of her own. Although she believed what she shared with Josephine was love, with Balthazar she believed she had found someone whose soul was not only similar to hers but the same and the quickly began a relationship while his case was still being processed through court.

Their short romance was wild. Shared kisses round doors and long evenings alone were passionate and fun, resulting in the pregnancy of their eldest child HESTIA JONES. Alicia was committed to her job and her life in the Auror’s Office, and wasn’t confident she would make a good mother. Balthazar was the only person she could imagine attempting to go on this specific journey with. Alicia loved her baby daughter with every fibre of her soul and when she looked at her, she felt the immense desire to make the world better and safer, not just out of ambition but for Hestia more than anything. As Alicia climbed the ranks at work and put criminals away she spent more time at work, leaving Hestia in the care of nannies, elves and family. It wasn’t the ideal situation Alicia had envisioned for Hestia, but she wanted her daughter to have the best in life which unbeknownst to Alicia was simply time with her parents rather than expensive books, pretty dresses and people in handcuffs. By the time Alicia and Balthazar had discussed being ready to have a second child Hestia was ten years old and sadly would not receive the best of her parents as she was due to  go away to Hogwarts. When GWENOG was born, Alicia and Balthazar made a promise to be there more for their children but quickly became swept up in the day to day of raising a baby. 

What had seemed so easy with Hestia was much more difficult with Gwen. The couple cut their hours back at work to make time for their girls and enrolled Gwen in sports and took an interest in her likes. A lot of the mistakes she had made with Hestia, Alicia was determined not to make with Gwen and although it was difficult with her job she tried to be there as often as she could. With Hestia having graduated Hogwarts and Gwen safely away at school, Alicia decided to accept the position of Head of the Auror’s Office in 1972 whilst, unbeknownst to Alicia, Hestia had both begun and finished her training within the Auror’s Office. Due to the Ministry taking a crack down on nepotism in the 70s under EUGENIA JENKINS, Alicia wasn’t overjoyed to hear Hestia had gone behind her back and enrolled in the Auror programme, potentially jeopardizing her promotion she had secretly been once again gunning for. When Hestia arrived home with her grades in hand, all she was met with from Alicia was silence. Alicia wanted to be happy for her eldest born, but having given up so much of her younger years to being a mother, Alicia was energized by the idea she would once again be working in a job which challenged her. Her silence was not met kindly by Hestia, who in equal silence packed her bags and moved out that same evening, much to the displeasure of Alicia.

In the years that followed Alicia’s promotion, she has seen two more Ministers for Magic which has seen her now working under MILLICENT BAGNOLD and in a time of severe unrest, with fingers pointed at her as the person who isn’t doing enough to stop it. The death of the Minister’s son BOOKER BAGNOLD was a particular low point in Alicia’s career and one she vowed she would never repeat. Since his death, Alicia is focused unwavering and determined, her personal relationships suffering as a result. At work Alicia is unforgiving, running the Auror’s Office with the help of ALASTOR MOODY with sheer tenacity. Her primary goal above all else has been the arrest of SILAS CRUMP who it is widely believed was responsible for Booker’s slaying, though Alicia is not convinced he is to blame. As cases pile up and strange mysteries come to light, Alicia can’t help but wonder if something much bigger is at play. The vampire attack on the co-leader of Sorcerers for Equality BENJY FENWICK is another thorn in her side as well as a clue that all of these cases may not be isolated. Confident in her abilities, Alicia has appointed herself the lead on the case, privately looking into a number of vampires including the elusive GEORGINE FARIBULT and her establishment she had previously been turning a blind eye to, in the hopes of unravelling the biggest case of her career and ensuring the safety of the people of London. 

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Pure-Blood

Pronouns → She/Her

Identification → Cis Female

Sexuality  → Pansexual

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education → Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Gryffindor)

Societies → Pura Sorores

Family → Balthasar Jones (husband), Edwin Avery (deceased brother), Eudora Shacklebolt (sister), Hestia Jones (daughter/colleague), Gwenog Jones (daughter), Lucille Jones (niece/colleague), Florence Jones (niece), Genevieve Avery (niece), Jasper Avery (nephew), Kingsley Shacklebolt (nephew/colleague)

Connections  → Tobias Misselthorpe (best friend), Minerva McGonagall (best friend), Alastor Moody (close friend/colleague), Millicent Bagnold (friend/boss), Rutherford Bagnold (friend), Celeste Maxim (friend), Josephine Bates (ex-girlfriend), Cecily Greengrass (adversary), Cygnus Black (adversary), Benjy Fenwick (person of interest), Georgine Faribault (person of interest), Silas Crump (person of interest) 

Future Information → N/A

ALICIA AVERY-JONES IS A LEVEL 9 WITCH.

[drkfought]

   ─         the  mirrors  surrounding  you  did  as  they  were  meant  to ,  reflecting  back  a  spitting  image  of  jensen  ackles    -    but  it’s  clear  something  is  wrong  from  the  moment  that  a  vision  of   𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬  𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨  𝘨𝘰𝘥   strikes  you .    perhaps  it  was  a  passing  daydream  in  the  frenzy  of  the  funhouse .    you  reassure  yourself    -    you’re  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍  𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 ,   a   𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘺  𝘰𝘯𝘦   year  old   𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗘  𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗘𝗙   whose  virtue  lies  in  your   + loyalty   &   + selflessness ,  although  you’ve  been  told  that  you  tend  to  be  quite   - short  tempered   &  - self  loathing ,  and you’re associated with  𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒆𝒔  𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅  𝒃𝒚  𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒔  𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔  𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏,  𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈  𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔  𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉  𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒚  𝒌𝒏𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒆𝒔,  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒓  𝒕𝒐  𝒓𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒆  𝒕𝒐  𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒓  𝒐𝒇  𝒂𝒏  𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆,  𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅  𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆  𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔  𝒂𝒏𝒅  𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒍  𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅  𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔  𝒂  𝒃𝒆𝒅 ,  by  those  around  you .    suddenly,  however,  you’ve found   𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍'𝐒  𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋   on  your  person    -    was  that  always  there ?     from  the  moment  you  leave  the  funhouse ,  memories  from  your  life  in   𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡   have  begun  to  return   -   leaving  whoever  you  had  been  before  in  the  mirror’s  reflection  behind  you .    you  can  almost  hear   𝚁𝙰𝙼𝙱𝙻𝙴  𝙾𝙽   by  𝙻𝙴𝙳  𝚉𝙴𝙿𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙸𝙽  following  in  your  wake .

hi  i  love  dean  winchester  so  stinkin’  much   ...   i  am  ....  so  excited .    he  deserves  a  life  where  he  wasn’t  hunting  monsters  all  the  time !    one  where  he  got  a  job   &   had  kids   &   is  just  living  life !    let  dean  have  a  life !

full name :     dean  henry  winchester . alises :   the  righteous  man .   the  sword  of  michael .   squirrel . age :   forty  one . gender & pronouns :   cis male ,  he / him . sexual & romantic orientation :    bisexual / biromantic . species :   human . identifying  marks :    multiple  scars  across  his  body .   some  looking  like  they  came  from  knives ,  others  from  guns .    his  memory  on  how  he  got  most  of  them  is  fuzzy

    ─        𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍  𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 .

i  will  try  to  make  this  short .    dean  was  born  to  mary   &   john  winchester   &   for  four  years  he  had  the  most  simple  apple  pie  life  a  four  year  old  could  ask  for .    in  1983 ,  a  demon  went  into  the  winchester  house  to  visit  their  newborn  son :  dean’s  younger  brother  sam .    when  mary  interrupted  the  demon’s  visitation ,  he  killed  her .   slashed  open  her  stomach   &   burned  her  on  the  ceiling .    dean’s  father ,  john ,  witnessed  the  terrible  end  of  his  wife’s  life   &   though  he  made  it  out  alive  with  both  sam   &   dean ,  the  event  would  irreversibly  change  him .

john  became  obsessed  with  discovering  what  it  was  that  killed  mary .   he  learned  to  hunt  the  supernatural   &  ruthlessly  trained  his  sons  to  do  the  same .    dean’s  toddler  life  of  toys  turned  into  tinkering  with  guns ,  his  warm  bed  into  dirty  motels ,   &   his  carefree  existence  into  only  worrying  over  his  younger  brother .    he  became  the  perfect  killer  but  it  took  a  toll  on  him .    his  father ,  far  from  perfect  even  before  this ,  became  harsh  on  dean .   molding  him  until  he  was  more  dutiful  soldier  than  he  was  boy .   dean  did  everything  his  father  asked  &  followed  his  every  order  with  blind  faith   &   even  then  he  would  never  be  the  perfect  son  to  john .    sam ,  on  the  other  hand ,  rebelled  against  the  life  john  gave  them .   though  dean  tried  constantly  to  settle  their  explosive  arguments  as  best  he  could  no  matter  his  thoughts  on  the  matter  at  hand ,  desperate  for  peace  between  the  two ,  he  still  couldn’t  stop  sam  from  running  away  in  the  end .    he  wanted  to  hate  sam  for  it  at  first ,  but  he  never  could .

years  later  when  john  went  missing  on  a  hunt ,  dean  reached  out  to  his  estranged  brother  for  help .   the  job  was  supposed  to  be  a  simple  one  but  after  coming  back  unsuccessful  to  the  tragic  death  of  sam’s  girlfriend  ( same  as  their  mothers ,  in  fact )   sam  entered  back  into  his  life  for  good .   

though  the  plots  of  both  heaven   &   hell ,  sam  &  dean  became  pawns  in  the  story  of  the  world’s  end .    the  apocalypse  slowly  set  into  motion  &  started  with  the  winchesters  at  the  center  of  it  all .    even  though  they  managed  stop  the  world’s  end ,  though ,  it  was  hardly  the  last  threat  to  humanity .    as  years  passed ,  the  brothers  found  themselves  thrust  into  apocalypse  after  apocalypse .     an  endless  cycle  that  they ,  eventually ,  discovered  was  god’s  doing  all  along .   they  were  simply  the  main  characters  of  a  never  ending  tragic  story  that  god  was  writing .    furious ,  the  two  brothers ,  with  help  from  their  rebel  angel  best  friend  &  the  half  angel  son  on  lucifer  himself ,  devised  a  way  to  defeat  god  for  good .    in  the  end  they  succeeded .   jack ,  the  mentioned  son  of  lucifer ,  took  god’s  place  after  his  defeat .    the  world  is  their’s  in  the  end .   they ,  for  the  first  time ,  get  to  choose  their  own  paths .

   ─        𝐀𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃  𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 .

there  was  still  a  fire  at  the  winchester  house  when  dean  was  four  years  old .    an  accident  this  time .    an  electrical  fire .     a  normal  tragedy .     their  mom  was  still  lost  but  dean ,  holding  onto  the  bundle  that  was  his  little  brother ,  watched  as  the  fire  fighters  pulled  his  dad  from  the  flames .     sitting  with  them ,  brother  in  his  arms ,  while  they  consoled  him   &    let  him  wear  their  helmets  would  always  be  a  far  more  comforting  memory  to  dean  than  the  ones  his  father  gave  him  in  the  years  to  come .    john  winchester  became  distant .   negligent .    borderline  abusive .    dean  did  his  best  to  take  the  bulk  of  what  their  grief  drowned  father  put  on  them ,  trying  to  shield  sam ,   &  gave  a  lot  of  his  life  to  helping  raise  sam  where  john  fell  short .   they  moved  around  a  lot ,  finally  settling  in  alucard  when  dean  was  around  seventeen .

when  he  was  a  late   teen  if  he  wasn’t  at  home  or  sneaking  out  for  a  smoke   &   some  girls ,   dean  worked  at  being  a  volunteer  firefighter .    it  was  something ,  he  thought ,  slightly  productive  to  do  with  his  life  as  it  was  already  obvious  to  him  that  he  wouldn’t  be  able  to  go  to  college  with  sam  still  needing  him  around .   at  age  eighteen ,  with  his  high  school  diploma  stating  he  graduated  with  average  grades ,  dean  officially  joined  the  fire  force  at  an  entry  level   &   began  saving  up  money  for  his  own  place .    a  place  away  from  his  father  but  close  enough  that  sam  could  use  it  to  get  away  at  any  time  as  well .   though ,  as  the  year  went  on ,  he  found  that  john  would  have  been  unlikely  to  allow  dean  to  live  under  his  roof  anyway .    

dean  was  notorious  with  women   &   thought  himself  as  careful  but  clearly  not  as  careful  as  he  thought .    when  he  found  out  he  was  going  to  be  a  dad  at  eighteen  he  initially  rejected  the  idea ,  wanting  nothing  to  do  with  the  child  out  of  fear  of  turning  into  his  father .    sam  was  the  one  who  talked  him  down  from  the  anxiety .   with  his  encouragement ,  dean  slowly  worked  to  learn  how  to  be  a  parent .   preparing  a  room .    reading  parenting  books .   anything .    it  came  as  a  shock  a  month  before  the  due  date  to  when  he  found  out  the  mother  was  backing  out  of  keeping  the  child .    she  had  been  the  one  initially  for  raising  it  at  first  but  suddenly  felt  she  couldn’t  do  it .    though  he’d  be  on  his  own ,  dean  had  steeled  himself  to  becoming  a  father  too  much  to  let  the  girl  to  go  up  for  adoption .    beverly  winchester  was  born  feburary  13th   &   dean  took  full  custody  as  her  sole  guardian .    he  kept  in  touch  with  bevery’s  mother  still ,  who  went  on  to  study  psychology  outside  alucard .

being  a  single  father  was  far  from  easy  but  dean  managed ,  always  taking  help  where  he  could  from  his  brother  or  from  friends .    one  friend  even  got  closer  than  others .    when  beverly  was  nearing  three  years  old ,  dean  started  seeing  a  foreign  exchange  student  from  england  who  was  taking  classes  at  the  local  university   &  the  casual  feeling  of  the  affair  wasn’t  there  for  long .    things  blossomed  into  something  serious   &   when  it  was  discovered  she  was  pregnant ,  this  time  dean  was  far  more  sure  about  things  than  when  he  was  twenty .     the  wedding  was  small    &   around  nine  months  later  dean  became  a  father  of  two  as  simon  joined  the  winchester  family .  

for  a  few  years  this  seemed  the  perfect  arrangement .    dean  worked  up  through  the  ranks  at  the  station ,  setting  himself  up  to  be  the  new  fire  chief  one  day ,   &   raised  his  kids  happily  with  his  wife .    but  perfect  sometimes  doesn’t  last  long .    their  relationship ,  after  all ,  had  been  a  rushed  one .    after  around  six  years ,  things  simply  didn’t  have  the  same  spark  as  they  used  to .     the  divorce  wasn’t  nasty ,  they  knew  it  was  a  mutual  thing ,  but  it  still  stung .     he  left  the  court  as  a  single  father  again ,  now  with  joint  custody  of  his  son .    he  didn’t  seen  simon  much  after  the  divorce .   shortly  after ,  he  &  his  mother  moved  back  to  england  which  dean  was  always  bitter  about .    though  simon  came  to  visit  sometimes   &   dean  called  whenever  he  could ,  he  always  felt  like  he  was  far  from  the  boy .

at  fourty  one ,  years  later ,  he’s  gotten  well  back  on  his  feet .    no  serious  relationships  seem  to  stick  but  at  work  he’s  finally  gotten  fire  chief .    he  misses  being  in  the  middle  of  the  action  sometimes ,  but  he  loves  his  job  nonetheless .     if  not  at  work  he’s  visiting  his  brother ,  the  bar ,  fixing  his  car ,  or  dedicating  time  to  beverly   &   simon  who  has  recently  moved  to  alucard  to  be  around  dean ,  much  to  his  delight .    as  his  life  is  coming  back  to  him ,  though ,  it  is  stressing  him  out .   the  world  was  already  dangerous  without  remembering  monsters .    he  feels  as  though  this  is  just  another  story  he’s  now  lived  out   &   isn’t  even  sure  whats  real .

  ─        𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 .

father  to  BEVERLY  MARSH  &  SIMON  SNOW  in  alucard .    he  will  absolutely  go  off  on  you  if  you  are  mean  to  his  kids .    yes ,  this  includes  other  kids  who  bully  his  kids .   he  doesn’t  care  he’ll  yell  at  you  for  being  an  asshole  no  matter  your  age .   absolutely  no  one  messes  with  his  kids .

has  had  beverly  around  since  she  was  born  but  has  seen  simon  infrequently  since  he  was  about  six  since  simon’s  mother  took  him  back  to  england  with  her .    he  doesn’t  love  simon  any  less ,  but  he ‘s  struggling  with  fact  they  don’t  know  each  other  as  well  as  dean  would  like .    he  hates  that  his  son  grew  up  so  far  away  from  him  with  visits   &   phone  calls  too  few   &   far  in  between .

is  also  now  having  to  cope  with  the  fact  that ,  in  this  new  life  he  remembers ,  he  doesn’t  even  HAVE  his  kids .    closest  thing  he  has  to  a  child  there  is  jack   &   he  doesn’t  even  know  if  jack  is  okay .

still  has  the  impala  here .    can’t  have  dean  without  his  car .

while  he  is  the  fire  chief ,  fixing  cars  is  a  huge  hobby  of  his .    if  he  didn’t  love  his  job ,  he  would  absolutely  leave  it  to  work  as  a  mechanic  at  the  local  garage .

while  he  mostly  works  on  his  car  himself ,  he  still  brings  his  car  to  the  garage  a  few  times  a  year  for  things  that  his  own  garage  doesn’t  have  the  tools  for .   they  know  him  there  from  his  recognizable  car .

his  father  has  been  alive  for  sometime  but  he’s  recently  found  out  he  died  from  a  stroke  in  his  sleep .   dean  is  stuck  between  the  duty  of  giving  his  father  a  proper  funeral   &  his  own  bitterness  at  the  man  for  how  he  treated  him   &  sam .     this  is  only  worsened  by  the  memories  of  john  that  will  come  back .

he  is  bisexual !   because  i’ve  watched  this  show   &   have  eyes !    i  know !    is  he  repressed   a  lot   &  hasn’t  exactly  had  an  offical  coming  out ?   also  yes !    doesn’t  mean  he  HASN’T made  out   &   gotten  with  a  guy  or  two  in  the  past .   just  means  he  never  felt  like  he  could  say  anything  about  it  all  growing  up   &   now  just  figures  it’s  too  late .

uuuuuuuuuuuuh   anyway .    i’ll  add  to  this  more  if  i  think  of  more .

[schemerville]

hey, guess who i just saw at NEWMAN BANK & INSURANCE ? FOLASADE “SADE” SHAW! don’t they look good for 40 years old? they have lived here for 8 YEARS and ARE a DANCE INSTRUCTOR & OWNER OF ON POINTE they view the increase in tourism as POSITIVE and LIKE the retirees who moved here. a pinterest board of them would include WELL-WORN POINTE SHOES, SUNNY BEACH SCENES, CARTIER LOVE BRACELETS. ⊰ GUGU MBATHA-RAW ─ CIS FEMALE ─ SHE/HER ⊱ muse bc & florence’s fiancée connection

PROFILE:

Full Name: Folasade Mira Shaw

Nickname/Preferred Name: Sade

Pronunciation: Folasade = Fo-lah-shah-day ; Sade = Shah-day

Age: 40

Face-claim: Gugu Mbatha-Raw

Hometown: London, UK

Ancestry: South African, English

Current Residence: Elmerton, Florida

Length of time in Elmerton: 8 years

Career & Education: Dance Theory, Choreography, Dance Styles - Ballet, Modern Tap, Modern Theatre, Ballroom

Spoken Languages: English, French, Italian

Occupation: Dance Instructor, Choreographer, Owner of On Pointe, Volunteer at Domestic Violence Shelters/Organizations

Occupation (past): Soloist in The Royal Ballet Company, Neo-Burlesque Performer, Exotic Dancer, Artist in the American Ballet Theatre

Personality Traits: reticent, charming, brazen, impulsive, compassionate, guarded, insecure, open-minded

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius ;  February 18th

Character Labels: The Ecdysiast, The Coryphée, The Phoenix

FAMILY:

Parents: Maxine & Kofi Shaw

Sister: Fatima Marianne Shaw

OTHER CONNECTIONS, PLOTS & IDEAS: 

Employees

Co-workers

Best Friends

+more

TIMELINE:

tw: mentions of abuse, homophobia, miscarriage

18th February, 1980 - The Shaw’s welcome Sade to their family. The London UK home grows by one, and Marianne is happy to have a little sister to spoil. Young and clueless about the world she was birthed into, Sade would eventually grow into the strict and religious-based household her parents ran.

Childhood - Sade was well cared for and loved by her parents. Though she proved to be more of a handful to nurture than her older sister, they loved her no differently. She loved to dance, and they encouraged it, so long as she kept her grades up. It was a documentary featuring Anna Pavlova’s ‘the dying swan’ that sparked her Ballerina dreams, and she never looked back.

Teens- Sade’s early teen years were riddled with mischief, most of which she kept from her parents for fear of their reactions should they find out their wholesome daughter had a world of her own when she stepped out of their sights.

Fifteen - Sade faints at school, the battery of tests doctors ran on her at the hospital revealed her pregnancy. Sade is terrified by the news and she is forced to come clean about her misdeeds. The father is Samuel Dugan; a guy from their neighborhood whose parents were friends of the Shaw family. Sade never truly liked Samuel that much, though he was charming and said all the right things, it took him several tries to be successful with his wooing.

Her first time having sex was with Samuel due to peer pressure, and the desire to sate her own curiosity regarding the hype and mystery around the deed. By then Sade had made out with a girl, so she figured; what was one more exploration of her sexuality going to hurt? Unfortunately, that one hookup with Samuel was enough to get her pregnant. Sixteen - The Shaw’s and Dugan’s waste no time in trying to fix the damage caused by the reckless teens. Both parties agreed that avoiding a scandal was imperative, and they weighed the pros and cons of an abortion versus a shotgun wedding. In a bittersweet twist, neither strategy was needed as Sade suffered a miscarriage a week that hospital visit. Sade’s parents transfer her out of that high school and ship her off to an all-girls Christian boarding school hoping to straighten out their rebellious daughter.  

Eighteen - A freshly graduated Sade returns home after completing her 6th form education. Things are strained in the Shaw household, and have been for a few years. Progress reports from her boarding school would always cause some argument or the other, especially when she came home to visit over the school breaks. Sade had grown to like her time away from home, there was some independence and she got to live without being under her parent’s thumb. It gave her a taste of what being on her own would look like, and she couldn’t wait to be free. Once she got accepted into the dance school of her dreams, she hit a roadblock as the scholarship request was denied. Her parents agreed to sponsor her dance education, once she didn’t move out from the family home, and agreed to abide by their rules.

Twenties - Using Samuel as a beard, she engages in a relationship with a fellow dancer by the name of Samantha. It was easy really, she used the nickname Sam when on the phone and in general when referencing her partner, and her parents were none the wiser. Unfortunately, Sade didn’t factor in Samuel’s emotions as he had no idea that he was just a smoke screen. It didn’t dawn on her that he was serious about their relationship until she was presented with an engagement ring and a proposal. Sade’s refusal of the proposal brought out a side of Samuel that she had been turning a blind eye to over the span of their ‘relationship’. If Sade was being honest with herself, the little things that Samuel did, which herself, friends, and family thought was cute, in actuality was pretty toxic behaviour. Red flags should have gone up in her mind, but they didn’t because she was all too focused on sneaking around with her girlfriend. Not even a couple of days passed after she turned Samuel down that things began getting crazy. He would follow her around London, repeatedly send texts, and make incessant phone calls. Sade reported him, and tried to follow the legal route to keep herself safe, but all that did was escalate things. Samuel had been tailing her, even when she thought he wasn’t. He found out about Samantha and had the photographic evidence to prove it. The threat of being outed to her family instilled enough fear in her that she did whatever Samuel wanted. Sade recants her story to the police, and ends her relationship with Samantha, then becomes engaged to Samuel. Sade had a plan of her own, and it didn’t include getting married to Samuel. She needed her parents financial support in order to complete her dance program and auditions, and she knew that she would be kicked out, and cut-off should they learn about Samantha. So as long as she pretended to go along with Samuel’s blackmail, things would be fine, once she delayed the wedding of course.

Sade finds an escape from her troubles in her dancing. With her training at The Royal Ballet Upper School coming to an end, Sade successfully graduates into the Royal Ballet Company. It takes her 3 years to be promoted to Soloist. The start of her dancing career should have been one of the happiest periods in her life, but it wasn’t. Samuel figured out that he had been duped. By the time he was off exposing Sade to her family, she had already packed her bags and fled, never looking back once.

Late-Twenties to Thirties - Sade’s career takes her on an adventure. Working with the Company opens her sheltered eyes to the world. Firstly, she learned that being a ballerina isn’t all glamourous, with party invites and magazine features, but that didn’t thwart her aspirations. As long as Sade had the opportunity to do what she loved, she’s happy. Because she never learned how, managing her finances was a struggle, and living in London isn’t exactly cheap. The cost of living, paired with Sade’s spending habits to impress her friends and colleagues, cost her dearly. It also didn’t help that made a couple of bad investments along the way. Her love life even had a part to pay in her finances. Sade encountered romantic interests that turned out to be financial and emotional leeches.

When Sade learned that her contract with the Royal Ballet Company wouldn't be renewed, she panicked. Deep down, she knew it was a possibility of it happening was high, but when it became a reality, it didn't sting any less. Auditions were competitive and expensive, eventually Sade had to find other sources of income to support herself in between auditions and gigs, and she found that as a Burlesque Dancer.

Thirties to present - Sade found herself a place in another dance Company as a First Artist, but this time, in the United States. Vowing to do things differently Sade considered herself unlucky in love, and steered away from relationships. Instead her attention went to focus on her career. In theory she had the right mentality for starting her life across the pond, but even the best laid plans have the chance to go awry, and for Sade those odds seemed higher. Claims of sexual harassment made by Sade against a Principal Dancer at the company got swept under the rug by administration, and they spun the narrative to make her the villain. The fallout from the situation resulted in her leaving the company. Sade struggled to get her footing financially after that. The only bright spot in her life back then was a married woman that she met and fell head-over-heels in love with. Sade’s ten years without giving a second thought to relationships melted once they got to know each other. Unfortunately, what quality of life could they share when so many things weren’t stacked in their favour? Sade couldn’t ask Florence to leave her wealthy husband for someone who was close to eviction, and struggled to keep the utilities on. Eventually, the plan that they hatched could easily solve their problems, or land them in jail. So far, it’s been totally the former. Rich and beyond comfortably so where things that Sade never thought she would associate with herself. The sky’s the limit now for the newly engaged couple.

As they say, those who can’t do, teach, and that’s precisely what Sade decided to do. After her official retirement from performing, Sade finally had the capital to execute her business plan for a dance studio and school, and thus On Pointe was born.