#fucking collections of literature in the course of doing this project and it still isn’t good enough LOLLL like i appreciate you trying to h
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study buddies :: cc!multiple x reader
fluff , platonic , gender neutral ! some headcanons if the mcyts were trying to help you do hw :D
cc’s included in order: tommyinnit , tubbo , ranboo , wilbur soot , philza , technoblade
tommyinnit
i feel like he’s the type to be in a long discord call with you whilst you both try to finish your work
mans uses the screensharing feature like there’s no tomorrow
“y/n watch my stream on discord and help me guess the answers”
“tommy no! i haven’t even taken a film class before”
“your guess is good as mine”
“just cheat and google the answers!!!”
“fuck you”
he actually just wants your attention because he’s bored out of his mind doing homework
five minutes later of asking you to help him guess questions he’s like
“hey y/n”
“what now?”
“let’s play bedwars”
“oh my god shut up!!!”
if tommy has to speedrun something before a deadline, it is a whole different story tho; he will be so focused on completing that he won’t hear what you’re saying
if you’re struggling in math, you’re on your own
“math is shit, only numbers i need is my primes and youtube analytics” says tommy any time you complain about math
besides the fact he isn’t good at solving math problems, you can’t even read his handwriting if he did try showing you how to do a problem
“okay, y/n, it’s simple, just look” he says in his kareninnit voice and everything
you’d be like “is the variable a G or a 9??”
“fuck you that’s a 4!!!”
tubbo
i don’t know if tubbo ever talked about school before but something about him makes me think he’s actually pretty good at math
like he can explain a few things when it comes to math / algebra
CODING GO BRRRR
no geometry or calculus though, anything past algebra will go bad
if tubbo is doing homework with you, he will definitely tune you out
“hey tubbo can you help me on this question?”
you don’t get a response until like 20 minutes later
“oh yeah, what was it y/n?”
like now you answer? i just got the answer myself after so long, forget you smh
“oh nothing tubbo, nevermind!”
but you’re still grumbling in your head because if he answered just a bit earlier you wouldn’t have gone through the work of finding the answer online
i can also imagine if you’re taking chemistry tubbo is like ;
“oh you’re taking chemistry? let’s make some bombs!” /lh
tubbo would definitely pull an all-nighter with you to finish your projects together
if you had a group project, he would make you do the writing part while he does the drawing part
“we definitely aced this project”
“of course we did, if i made you draw we would’ve ended up with stick figure diagrams”
“TUBBO. THE FUCK?”
ranboo
okay i know ranboo said he isn’t a theatre or band kid (unless im wrong and forgetful) but i feel like he’d be somewhat educated in the topics nonetheless
half the time he’s great moral support, helping you stay motivated !
the other half is him making fun of you
“i cant believe you’re failing, that is so sad, can’t be me”
“it’s literally an honors class, ranboo! it’s supposed to be hard!!”
“taking an honors class willingly? also cant be me AHAHA”
i honestly can’t see ranboo going to school like i know he’s a minor and said he had zoom calls before and plays volleyball but like did i miss something? has he dropped out yet? like something about ranboo does not scream “student” /lh
besides that, i’m not sure what subject he would actually be good in,,, but something about nutrition/health sciences,, he knows a few things
don’t get me wrong, i don’t think he actually likes the subject but somehow remembers what he learned from the class
also gives me the type of energy of the type of person to take a first aid class to be a certified person to do cpr on someone just to kill time during his lunch breaks for a while or something
“i am a certified cpr person”
“my life in ranboo’s hands? oh god please no”
you two would probably joke about the ‘bad’ people in your classes or talk shit about your schools than actually doing anything homework related ngl AHAHAH
“you think your school is down bad? mine went back to campus full time after like 6 months into quarantine because they were running out of money”
“what the hell y/n? your school is a scam, drop out”
“arghhhh i knowww”
“i bet i make more money than your teachers combined AHAHAH”
wilbur soot
he doesn’t seem like the best person to ask for help for homework but can info dump you on very specific historical events + a bit of geography
i kinda see him as the person you can ask to proof read an essay for you and would help it improve immensely
who needs a thesaurus when you have vocabulary boy wilbur?
i dunno if it’s an american thing only or at all, but if/when you get to studying hamilton in your english class, he will get so fucking excited
“no wilbur it isn’t fun! imagine listening to lin-manuel miranda rap ‘alexander hamilton’ at the white house from like 2009 on repeat for over an hour whilst trying to write an analysis about it!! it was so distracting”
“well clearly someone has a personal problem with mr lin-manuel. if i were you, i’d be singing the whole thing”
is this last bit personal and complete spite from my freshman year english class? yes. i do not care? no. /hj
unrelated but i actually scribbled nice guy ballad lyrics and other songs on my english scratch papers in freshman year but anyway
probably isn’t the best person to be in a call to do homework with but wilbur doesn’t mind you ringing him occasionally sometimes
i dunno i can just see him easily get bored of the silence or something but also doesn’t want to bother you too much
but he is genuinely proud of you whenever you tell him you aced a big test you were studying for :D
philza
this man’s bad advice is as bad as him trying to help you on any subject
he’s an old man so /hj
but like honestly, he hasn’t been at school for so long, phil can probably only help with the most basic things when it comes to school
if you have a wack teacher that makes you collect data through surveying people, phil would be one of the best people to ask! straightforward and won’t take too much of your time compared to other people ahem,,
statistics things ! sobs
if you ever complain a lot about your classes and contemplating dropping out and stuff, he will def scold you hard
“ugh phillllllllll can i just like,, never go to school again?”
“do not drop out”
“argh fine, i won’t just ‘cause philza minecraft said so”
honestly if you get a high score in a big test like your sats/gcse’s (whatever you’re taking from wherever you are) he’d probably order you a small meal or something to celebrate :D
like how phil bought ranboo bought him food to his house, it would start as a joke but when you get your test scores back he’s like “YOOO GOOD JOB Y/N”
expect a left meat pizza coming to your house .
technoblade
like wilbur, techno is also helpful when it comes to history!
def knows a decent bit of literature too
besides that i don’t really see him being that helpful
even if he was supposed to be an english major
he will just get mad at the school system for teaching you useless things
“being in school is good but why do you need to know how to know if something is a triangle or not? i can obviously see with my eyes that it’s a triangle”
“i dunno! ask the person that made up geometry”
“just look at a kaleidoscope and be over with it, it isn’t that hard”
“that isn’t how it works—”
“bruhhh”
if you’re looking for the person to call while doing homework, he is not the person /lh
it’s either like 0 or 100 with techno
he can just completely not say anything and ignore you or go on a full rant about whatever class or homework you have
if you have an essay you need written, it will take a lot of bribing but he might take the opportunity if you are rich
“techno i’ll paypal you $10 please help me”
“no. i can make 10 times that amount in 5 minutes if i just started streaming right now”
“techno i don’t have that kind of money! pleaseee”
“no. instead of complaining, you can use that time to actually start you work”
“you’re the worst”
then you speedrun the essay and get an A just to spite him
#dream smp imagines#dream smp x reader#dream smp x y/n#dream smp headcanons#sbi imagine#sbi x reader#sbi headcanons#mcyt imagine#mcyt x reader#mcyt x y/n#mcyt x you#mcyt headcanons
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blame @nicolodigenovas for inspiring me to write this (based on this amazing post)
It was a nice afternoon, clear and sunny, and absolutely perfect for lounging under a tree in the park with his latest read, an intense old italian romance that made him miss his home country. Instead, Nile was leading him across town with a jump in her step, to a tattoo shop of all places. He’d never shown any interest in the idea of them, he barely thought of them as art but the excitement on Nile’s face when she told him she got an apprenticeship with an amazing local tattoo artist he couldn’t say no to her - not after all the medieval literature readings he’d dragged her along to.
The shop itself was nice, large arching windows framing an intricately carved black door with the name painted on the front in a shimmering gold, and even Nicky had to admit he chuckled at it; “A Piece of Immortality,” it was rather poetic he thought.
Nile was practically bouncing through the door, eyes as wide as her smile as the bell chimed, dragging Nicky by the hand inside. Her excitement only seemed to rival his when he found himself pouring over old scriptures late at night in the library, maybe even surpassed it as she immediately dropped Nicky’s hand and ran over to the man at the counter; Nicky couldn’t understand what she said from here, but she was animatedly nodding along to what he was saying, his gaze a bit unsteady as he pulled some pages from behind the counter, much to her delight, as she began to pour over them.
The shop was very open, and Nicky found himself strangely welcomed by the warm colors that contrasted nicely with the cool metal accents adorning the walls and chairs, but more than that he could see Nile working here; he could easily picture her at her own station, completely engrossed in a new project, spending hour after hour learning new tricks and new styles, excitedly helping clients find the perfect thing to put on their bodies forever - though, Nicky could never understand why someone would do such a thing, Nile loved it and he wanted to support her as best he could.
A tall, dark-haired woman emerged from the back room and Nile wasted no time in introducing her to Nicky as Andy, one of the owners of the shop, as she was embraced in a crushing hug. Nicky glanced over at her arm, an amalgamation of black lines and words etched onto her skin; he could see a dragon looping around her arm, it’s body slinking up nearly its entire length, its face painted with a menacing scowl.
“Come on, you have to see the new stuff we’ve been working on and you’re going to love Yusuf’s!” Andy said, giving him a small nod before leading Nile to the back room. She shot him a giddy smile before following after Andy as fast as was professionally appropriate, leaving Nicky alone in the front room, save for the man behind the counter who looked like he’d sooner fall over drunk than actually be able to answer any questions as he paged through a book with glassy eyes, a not so subtly placed flask next to him, and the man sitting in a nearby chair, who nearly took Nicky’s breath away.
He was reclined in the chair, hands behind his head as his eyes trailed over the photos on the wall where there were countless tattoos pictured in so many styles and colors, Nicky almost wasn’t sure where to look but he felt his gaze travel back to the man before him. He was wearing a faded yellow shirt, thick curls tucked under a backwards baseball cap and the deepest brown eyes Nicky had ever seen. However, none of those things compared to the smile he gave Nicky when he turned around, a brilliant and encompassing smile that Nicky was sure put the sun itself to shame. Suddenly he was no longer missing the day he had planned.
Nicky somehow managed a smile back, awkwardly crossing his arms across his chest while he watched the stranger stare up at him, utterly lost in his eyes until he realized the man was actually speaking to him.
“Huh?” Was the only word he could manage, giving his head a small shake.
“You look a little bit lost,” he said, eyes crinkling as he managed another heart-stopping smile.
“Yes, well I’ve never been in a tattoo shop before.” Nicky tried to laugh, but his nerves twisted it into a rather unsettling chuckle. It didn’t help that the man was still smiling up at him, and if he was aware of the way Nicky’s eyes watched him adjust his hat, he didn’t indicate it.
“Ahh, well you certainly look cute when you’re confused.” He winked and Nicky’s breath caught in his throat, which he only just managed to play off as a cough. The man grinned, clearly happy with Nicky’s reaction.
Seconds passed, and then some more and Nicky still couldn’t manage to get words out, his mind circling over the word ‘cute’ like a vulture, except a vulture probably doesn’t have to deal with getting compliments from cute guys and probably sweats less than he was right now. A million things were running through his head, but none of them seemed like good responses, especially to a man as gorgeous as him.
And it was again that Nicky realized too late that the man had said something again. “I am so sorry! What was that?” he asked, kicking himself while he plastered on a smile he knew wouldn’t hide his growing blush.
The man chuckled. “I asked if you were here to get a tattoo,” he said, turning in his chair to face Nicky directly, clearly enjoying how flustered he was getting, wringing his hands together in front of him and eyes flicking back and forth towards him.
NIcky’s eyes widened, his response coming quickly from his mouth. “Oh, definitely not! I don’t really get the whole tattoo thing, I mean I guess you’re here to get one but honestly why even do this?” His hands moved in the air in front of him, voice tinged with a slight annoyance while he eyed the images on the wall, the ghost of a grimace crossing his face.
“And what do you mean by that?” The man’s tone was low, eyes narrowed, but Nicky didn’t seem to notice as he took a step closer to the wall, pointing lazily at the photos.
“It’s like this,” Nicky slipped into a neighboring chair, “most people regret their tattoos later in life, and it’s like the shop says, they’re immortal, they stay on your body forever. And besides that, why would people even choose to put this on their bodies? It’s not even art!”
The man eyed him with growing resentment, lips turned down; Nicky clearly didn’t realize who he was but his words stung nonetheless. His thoughts went to the tattoos that were sprawled across his arms, covered by the sleeves of his shirt, and the tattoos, his tattoos that were displayed on the wall, among those of Andy’s and Booker’s.
“Hm, that sure is something to say to a man in his own tattoo shop,” he spoke carefully, his back rigid and shoulders stiff.
Nicky paused, unsure of what he meant by that when Nile suddenly came running up to him, gripping his arm and giving it a friendly tug. “Yusuf, your new stuff is amazing! The color scheme is perfect, I mean the client is going to love it!”
Nicky gulped.
Oh.
Oh fuck.
He could feel his palms start to sweat and no amount of wiping them against his pants was doing any good. Of course Nicky would meet a cute guy and manage to insult not only him, but his entire livelihood and there was no way he could pretend he didn’t mean every word he had said, not with the way he had said them.
Nile turned to him, oblivious and Nicky rubbed at the stubble on his cheek.
“I see you met Yusuf, isn’t his stuff amazing?” She gestured to the photos on the wall and even though there was no way Nicky could know which were his, his eyes leaned towards the ones with sweeping, careful and thin lines - he could almost picture Yusuf sketching them out on paper with a careful precision.
“Was Yusuf showing it to you?” she asked, moving to stand next to Nicky, her eyes lit up with a familiar passion.
“Not exactly,” Yusuf said flatly.
“Oh, what were you talking about then?”
At Nile’s question, Nicky could feel the shame curl in his stomach and he didn’t even know how to begin to explain to her exactly how badly he fucked up. But apparently he didn’t need to because Yusuf rose from his chair, casually rolling up his sleeves to display arms that were nearly completely covered in tattoos. And Nicky had been right, he could see the similarity between them and the ones of his clients in the photos, though some were no doubt work from his colleagues.
“Nicky here was just telling me how much he doesn’t like tattoos, what was it you said?” Yusuf was nearly glaring at him, arms crossed across his chest and Nicky knew there were no words to make up for what he did. “Oh yes, it was ‘it’s not even art.’”
Nile’s mouth dropped open, eyebrows raised and eyes flicking between the two before Yusuf spoke up again, “I think you should go.”
And Yusuf was right.
Nile placed a hand over Yusuf’s arm, whispering a quick apology to him before pulling Nicky from the shop, her steps hard and purposeful, body tense. Nicky just followed quietly, not even glancing back at Yusuf, whose eyes he could feel watching him as he left the shop just as Andy emerged from the back room with a question on her lips that he was too far to hear, but he didn’t need to hear it to know what it was about.
The afternoon air was cooler than earlier, a little biting against his skin but he barely had time to enjoy it because as soon as they passed the windows, Nile turned to him with an exasperated look. She glanced back towards the shop longingly, taking a moment to collect her thoughts before speaking.
“Nicky why would you say that? I know you’re not like that, you can’t tell me that you really think that,” she said, sounding almost disappointed with hands dropped at her side.
“Nile, I’m so sorry!” He pressed his hands to his chest, eyes pleading as he watched her run a hand over her jacket to smooth the collar, a nervous tick of hers.
“Nicky, this is my job. I just got this apprenticeship!” She gestured to the shop next to them. “You can’t just say stuff like that, I thought you were working past some of that conservative stuff!”
And he had, mostly. There were just some things that were hard to shake off after growing up in a strict catholic household, but that was something he loved about his studies. He loved to be able to study the literature and learn about the religions from around the world, it allowed him to see so much more than he was exposed to when he was younger and he could grow into a more accepting person than he was raised to be.
“I will fix it, okay? I will fix it, Nile, I promise!” He grabbed her hand and she gave him a polite smile and a small nod, letting him leave while she headed back to the shop, hands tucked into her pockets.
And Nicky would figure something out, if not to fix it but at least to give a worthy apology - both to Yusuf and Nile. She didn’t deserve this, and she was right, he was trying to get past some of his conservative ideals and if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t even completely sure he truly believed in what he said. It had all come out without a second thought and he could still see the pain etched onto Nile’s face and how utterly upset Yusuf was at his words.
He would figure something out, he had to.
#the old guard#the old guard fic#tog fic#tog tattoo au#userlyde#mywriting#its been a hot minute since ive written anything but lyde you inspired me#also ive read through this like 3 times and i guarantee theres still mistakes so oh well
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Patients Zero - iii. by Imperial-Radiance
~Also on Wattpad~
*gasp* *cough*
Oh, good god. What? I thought I was— But, how am I—? Didn’t I get—? Wait, where am I?
Hard: I’m on something hard. Hard, flat, slick, and cold. My back hates this. I’m guessing it’s a floor. But I feel grooves, not just one that takes up my entire hand. It almost feels… made for me. Impossible. My eyes; they’re closed. It’s dark, behind and in front of the lids. Yet, there’s a glow: a… soft one? Not the blinding white from before? It’s cool, still, but not as much somehow. I wait for a voice to give me any sort of insight of where I am, and all I get back is just the gentle hum of a… a… Wait, is that a fan? No, is that a heater? Even on the hottest days outside in the real world – real because this is a fantasy, still, especially if I’m alive – it never went past room temperature. I… I’m boiling like I’m stuck in an oven.
Oh, my god. Am I being cooked in here? No, screw that. I’ll accept going out in plenty of ways in this diminutive state, but I will not go out as someone’s di—!
Well, this is… new? I finally lift my back up and open my eyes, and I’ve found myself lost… and in pain. Holy crap! Everything hurts! Ugh. But that’s the least of my worries. I’m alive, somehow, for some reason. But, why, and why here, wherever here is?
Am I crazy? This sure looks like a living room: not very different from my one at home. There’s a sofa, a table, and works of art that admittedly caught my vision immediately. I’ve liked to think that I’m not a leech for moving media, so not seeing a television or the like here is pleasing. There are dimly lit LEDs as large as me, a rug across the ground over there as large as me, and an actual fan even larger than me. Sure, it nearly takes up a whole wall like a fireplace would, but the latter would be unconventional. It’s blowing out heat, so it must switch between hot and cold. The only thing missing is a collection of literature of varying genres, but I doubt printing that small is even possible. Besides that, it’s like it was made for me.
But that’s just it. That’s fucking weird. It’s made for me, and how small am I now?
I must be going insane. This can’t be real. This room can’t possibly be mine—Oh. Oh shit.
That’s a kitchen over there behind me. A real kitchen – well, as real as it can be with its counters and cabinets. But it’s the actual cooking stuff that made it real: the primitive tools in the corner for refrigeration and cooking – some solar funnel/pot thing, I think – and the bruised yet familiar food scraps from my past life stacked in a triad of pyramids next to them. Wait, past life? I say that like it’s been forever since I was… ambushed… by someone big enough to make a place like this if they’re careful.
I’ve got to get out of here. But what is here? First things first, I should probably get my ass off the floor: this uncomfortably perfectly-sized floor.
O-Okay. Up and at it. The floor isn’t an ocean anymore. Appliances don’t have as much of a chance of killing me now. If I go this way, then I can sit at this table right here and contemplate all the dumb stuff I did to get here… wherever here is, not to mention there are enough chairs to fit a whole family or a group of housemates. Housemates. AmI alone here? Why am I here? Why do I keep asking myself these questions rather than just looking for the answer?
I’m irrational. This is irrational, but I must make the most of it. No, screw it, do I even have a choice? Well, with all these grabbable, sharp things around, I guess the answer’s technically a ‘yes.’ But. I’m not that depressed. I’m not. Not *sigh* that depressed. I’ve fought this long for others’ lives before and my own at this level, so why stop now? It’s not like I’m not used to being like this. It’s just this current situation that’s new… and heaven knows how much I love surprises… and rambling. Where was I? Oh, right.
If I go that way, now, then I can go to a surprise upstairs with who-knows-what… or who-knows-who. Would they really bunk me with someone else? I wasn’t one for strangers at full size, so how would they think I’d manage one on this scale!? They’re the ones that are short-sighted, not me. Ugh, I can’t wait to deal with that possibility. Though, maybe I don’t have to.
There’s the door. Huh.
I know I just got out of some stasis a moment ago, but it only just occurred to me that all the windows are covered and presumably closed. There seems to be no light peeking out of anywhere, either, so either it’s still nighttime, or I’m enclosed somewhere cut off from the world. No, the latter’s always going to be true here, now that I think about it. I don’t know where here is, but I do know it sure isn’t out there. There’s no use in not verifying it, though.
I guess that I shouldn’t be surprised how what should be a small door doesn’t have a lock. Yet, it has a hinge – two of them? Okay. Am I too dumb for not checking the windows? No, just crazy, but I knew that already. What’s crazier, though, is how I’m simultaneously right and wrong upon opening this door.
This is a small house, and this sure doesn’t look like a lab, a ward, and especially not that basement. To be honest, I kind of expected there to be grass or an equivalent on the ground here. Ground. I say that like this place containing me isn’t on a freaking table right now. Well, to be fair, they brought in real grass, plants, and stuff for the diorama dwellings, so I guess it’s not that weird. But those were for hundreds if not thousands of people on several stations. This is just me… and a house for me… on a table.
A table in what looks like a… a bedroom? I mean, I think I can make out the mountainous shapes of a bed, nightstands sandwiching it, and I think a dresser across from them, but it’s freaking dark in here. I’m surprised I can see that far away. Those LEDs boxed in my walls shouldn’t be able to reach that far, even if their brightness was somehow magnified through the cracks between windows and the door, yet here they are. Despite that, there’s no denying I’m in some resting place for some giant somewhere. Somewhere.
I could be freaking anywhere, but where?
I do know one thing: it’s damn fine that I don’t have a fear of heights. That helped me back there with the commons, so it’ll help me here, too. But, god, damn it, that drop is large. I bet it was intentional, along with my placement here. With the back edge cut off by the wall and the front sharply opening to this no man’s land of a room, I don’t have many options of escape.
I hear a heater running like a radiator under a window on one side of this table, and I’d rather not get burnt to cinders today. I could test my luck descending the curtains, but I don’t think I’m in proper form to climb or slide down. The opposite side is blocked by a chair in the corner. Falling onto a cushion might not be a bad idea. Maybe there’s a vent I can get through behind there. Hmm.
Screw it. I’d rather risk seeing my maker than wait for them to come to me. Chair, it is. It seems like the only way to go. But, should I take a leap of faith or weigh my options? Eh, watch with my luck, and this room’s patron comes back in and throws something atop of me – maybe even themselves. A smudge on somebody’s ass: that’s not legacy worthy. At least if I’m up here for some time, then I can probably make it back in the house and use it for even a smidgen of protection.
Hopefully.
Huh. Should I be bothered by how my steps aren’t clicking across this surface? I mean, they never did in the basement, but there were plenty of people around causing noise and whatever. Here, I’m alone… at least for now. That should be calming, shouldn’t it? Alas, as I continue forward, the curve of what-now-looks-like-an-accent-chair crests over the horizon and—
Oh, curse me.
So, I was right in being worried about possibly being suffocated to no end in colossal clothing. But, of all of them, did it have to be scrubs? I’m no color aficionado, but I do think that’s how that health-centric blue is supposed to look in this lighting—er, lack of light, I should say. Of course, they’re not just any scrubs, either. Any sensible physician would know to discard of their scrubs in at least a hamper to be washed after use or just use a new pair. These look like cast-offs like mad.
I’d put money down on them being his. That monster brought me here, didn’t here? Then, me being here would make sense: I’m where he lives or, at least, stays so he can watch me like some project.
Looking back at this rather extravagant house for a subspecies like me, who knows how much other preparation has been done since he acquired me? Is he why I’m hurt like this? Speaking of hurt, wasn’t I beeping before, and that led to all of this? It’s stopped now, and so was I, but is replacing it with pain much better? If I run away, then how do I know that the beeping won’t restart and lead to an even greater demise?
I’m curious, though, considering he could’ve ended me earlier while I was presumably incapacitated if that were his goal. But what if he may have plans for me, instead? What if he’s planning for me to run away, and that’s why he’s away, probably watching from afar? The basement had cameras whether they wanted us to know they were there or not, and I bet there’s some in here, too, with night vision, thermals, and all that other fancy gobbledygook. Ugh, it’s dark and distant in here, but damn it, I’m going to find one if it’s the last thing I—
Are you kidding me?
Do not tell me that’s been him this whole time. Him, and he’s that? Well, that’s poetic as hell, isn’t it? He was going to take me out beforeall this crap started. Now, he’s going to do me in here, instead, screwing me sideways and 1-upping me even more so.
In my visual pursuits of a camera, the last thing I expected to find was an I.D. To surprise me even more, I recognized the face on it. I remember my first time seeing it.
I was on a lunch break, just reading in my journals about Match Day – how it had been the largest amounts of matches in history or whatever – and then Doc Adams suddenly broke the fun and excitement, coming in with a list of our future interns. One of them was him. If it had been just a few years prior, then I would’ve been excited. After all, there’s nothing wrong with more doctors, right? But, Adams, the louse, has… had been trying to get me out of the doctoring game since.
It’s because he knows that I’d be better at his job than him, and the supervisors at the system H.Q. have been telling us both this. I can’t help that I love – loved– helping people directly so much to not replace it with a tedious desk job, even if it looks over pretty much everyone else in the hospital. Thus, his solution was to put more and more people in our ranks to dilute the focus away from me. It worked for a while until someone had a symptom that they didn’t know how to treat, but I did.
Despite my knowledge, this new guy was perfection, though, and from across the ocean, no less. I bet Adams creamed his pants at him on the list: this—What’s his name again? Oh, yeah: this ‘Mikul Merchant’ or whatever. I wonder how many bribes Adams had to make to get him. But that doesn’t matter now, does it? The first day for the interns would’ve been months ago, and the kid and I are both here, apparently, with him ruining my life just as much if not more so than he would’ve been without this wretched disease.
Though, if he was already on this continent way before then, then he must’ve been excited, too. After all, I’m sure his home country has its own center like this where he could’ve been. Why was he here, and how in the world did he turn out to be a carrier, too?
Upon registration, everyone is given I.D.s, but rather than having the random number sequences and barcodes the others get until they’re rendered useless by dwindling heights to where they can’t carry the damn thing, carriers’ listings are just ‘zeroes’ with a Q.R. code. I’m positive that’s how that self-deprecating squad of bugs found me and put their emotions out on and into me. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one here, so why would they charge me rather than someone like him? Well, besides his youth, foreignness, and relative handsomeness that may correlate with them, unlike me, he’s a carrier of and might as well be immune to both strains.
Curse this minute minutia. Curse my imperfections. But, most importantly, screw this—!
*CLICK* God, no.
Before I can even blink, a beam of light blinds me, revealing the previously dark side of the room and thus allowing me to see that this isn’t just a bedroom but more like a hotel room. A vanity adjacent to a closed closet appears. It’s spanning across the wall opposite me, this table and chair, that house of mine, and the window. How I didn’t see the reflection of this house in the mirror beforehand is beside me. But, no other reflection aside from my own hasn’t yet come into view, which makes me wonder if this is genuinely that giant’s room.
I know I used to come across my team’s scrubs in my office on occasion, so who’s to say that a lead person isn’t just keeping subject/’Doctor’ Merchant’s clothing with them for testing or safekeeping? Though, I don’t think that just throwing them across a chair shows its direct importance or proper sanitation practices. Or, maybe there’s another type of experiment going on. Perhaps it’s just dealing with me and what I do in this new location? Either way, that doesn’t answer whose room this is or why—
Never mind. There, he is. I’m here with him. I should stop doubting myself. No, this is the one time I should challenge anything and everything I’ve ever known.
Emerging from what I assume is a bathroom, a lanky, lean embodiment of a supposed human comes through. Supposed. Humans aren’t meant to be that large. It’s almost godly – the glow of his mostly bare, solely-pants-wearing, towel-draping-necked form – but I’m not glorifying a monster, checking his face and onyx hair over the sink and counter like he hasn’t done anything wrong. His auburn skin with no marks in sight is so nourished like he’s been able to bathe sensibly and get proper sunlight. There’s not one eye bag or wrinkle like he’s never had a single stressor in his life: the pampered, pompous prick. I’d almost say he’s prettier in person, but beasts are never pretty.
If you’re here, then you should be under all the stresses. Yet, here you are, flouncing around almost naked like you aren’t contracted with and spreading disease! If that’s the case, then why the hell am I here, trapped with you—!?
You… You… You’ve got to be kidding me. I mean, it was only a matter of time, but… don’t fucking dare.
Before I can even comprehend it, his almond gaze snaps on me like a locked crosshair in a gun’s sight. I try freezing in place, but I’m sure the vanity lights are making my eyes glow like a beady animal’s, so it’s all in vain. Aside from that, I didn’t think he had even noticed me at first, but then he had squinted his eyes and cocked his head like an inquisitive dog trying to hear. Just to test my luck, he even acknowledges me… or whatever he thinks I am if he doesn’t know for sure for some reason,
“H-Huh?” He sounds so soft, almost… Nope, I’m not going to say that. There’s no way he actually cares. I… I’m nothing in comparison. He’s taken out souls larger and smaller than me, so what difference would I make? “Is something there?” See? ‘Something.’
I’m a thing now.
I almost thought he’d salivate for his new toy, treat, or whatever I am to him. He’s already been a predator in public upon thousands of eyes. How much craftier will he be, all alone? I’m not going to wait to find out. Even if that’s what he’s expecting me to do, I don’t care. It’s fight-or-flight, and the former is definitely out of the question.
“W-Wait!”
Like hell, I’m doing that.
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The Firsts
Summary: No one ever told him that living was going to be so difficult. That there would emotions get couldn’t label and distinguish. He’s just a young boy trying to navigate through life and its unexpected ups and downs.
Genre: Humor, Fluff, smut(?)
Pairings: Oc x Felix, Oc x Changbin, Changbin x Oc x Felix
Warnings: poly relationship, angst in some part, excessive fighting about the MCU.
Parts: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17
A/N: This story has a theme of Firsts. First love, first kiss and many other firsts. Each part can be read on their own and are meant to stand as oneshots. It’s basically a collection of oneshots (little snapshots into my Oc’s life. 😁)
“Thor.”
“Loki.”
“Thor!”
“Loki!”
“Neither!” Seungmin and Minho stopped dead in their tracks as they stared at Aiden with narrowed eyes. He hadn’t really wanted to get in between their little quarrel over which brother was hotter, Thor or Loki, but it had been going on for the past four hours and Aiden was actually tired of it.
“Excuse you?” Minho asked with a raised brow. “Have you even watched Thor?” He asked.
“No.”
“Do you even Marvel?” Seungmin asked and Aiden shook his head. “Then you can’t contribute to this conversation!!!” He exclaimed, cheeks puffing out in frustration.
“Oh, well excuse me!” Aiden held up his hands in defense and slipped between the two, walking ahead of them. There was silence for a brief moment before the two boys were back at their argument, trailing behind Aiden as they made their way up the long driveway. Bang Chan was a friend of Changbin’s and extremely popular, or so Aiden had heard. His family was originally from Australia, but they moved when his father got a chance to expand their business in the Korean market - he was known as a self-made millionaire which of course made Chan a hit with all the people that wanted his family’s money.
He was a sweet guy, if not a bit reserved and wary of people. But he has hit it off with Changbin one day during chemistry and the rest was history - though it had only been a couple of months. Chan has offered to host study sessions at his place and who were they to refuse such a generous offer? Their first visit, Aiden had expected to see a mansion but was greeted with a modest house. Decent size and you could tell that the place was pricey, but it didn’t scream wealth which had surprised Aiden but at the same time was a blessing. It put Chan in a different light for him - though rich, he was still a normal person and his family tried to live modestly. True role model.
Knocking on the door, it was opened in less than a minute to a bright-eyed and smiling Chan. “Hey guys.”
“He-“
“Channie hyung! Thor or Loki?” Minho asked as he pushed Aiden lightly, the male stumbling to the house.
“Whoa.” Chan wrapped his arms around Aiden quickly to catch him before he went tumbling down, eyes looking back at the other two. “Loki.” He said.
“Ha! See, I told you!” Seungmin cheered happily, Minho simply rolling his eyes and scoffing.
“Uncultured swine.” He snorted and made his way into the house - as if he owned the place - with a shake of the head. “Thor is the better of the two brothers and you can’t change my mind.” He huffed.
“How can you say that when Loki is literally the best at everything?” Seungmin questioned as he followed quickly behind Minho, their voices fading as they disappeared around the left corner and into the study.
“Uh...” Chan stared at Aiden in confusion as he stood upright and brushed himself off.
“They’ve been going at it since the 5th period.” Aiden told him, flashing him a smile. “They won’t shut up and told me I couldn’t contribute to the conversation because I haven’t seen Thor.”
“You haven’t seen Thor?” Chan asked, his eyes wide, trailing after Aiden as he walked in. Closing the door, Chan followed up his previous question with another. “Have you watched any of the Marvel movies?”
Aiden was silent for a moment, staring at Chan as he debated if he should answer truthfully or not. He could probably lie and get away with it, for now. But if the talk of Marvel movies and Thor continued, his lie would be seen so quickly. It was probably just best to say the through, despite how embarrassing it really was. “No, I haven’t.
He winced at the gasp Chan gave, loud and overdramatic and he knew he had made a grave mistake with this answer. “Oh my god!” Chan turned quickly, feet shuffling as he made his way into the den. “Aiden hasn’t seen any of the Marvel movies!” Chan’s voice was nearly drowned out by the loud gasps that fell from the other’s lips, complaints filling the air to the point Aiden wanted to just leave and pretend this didn’t happen. But he knew if he did run away, he really wouldn’t live this down.
Reluctantly, he moved into the study and stared at his ‘friends’ as they all sat around a decent-sized coffee table - books and papers laid out for their intense study session that has yet to start.
“I can’t believe you!” Seungmin scolded with a shake of his head.
“How have you lived this long and not watched a Marvel film?” Woojin, Chan’s friend, asked concerned.
“We bonded over Spider-Man dude. Spider-Man! I thought I knew you.” Changbin tsked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“First of all, we were eight!” Aiden huffed and glared at Changbin, arms crossing in a mimic of the other’s posture. “Second of all, I’ve just been busy.”
“No one is too busy to watch a Marvel Movie. There is literally an entire cinematic universe.” Minho scoffed, disgusted by this horrid betrayal of his friend.
“I have things to do!”
“Like what? Whine about how much you want to fuck Felix?” The words were said so nonchalantly that Aiden had to wonder if Changbin’s brain had been working when he so easily spilled his greatest secret. “I mean-“
“Whoa! Where did that come from?” Chan asked with wide eyes, head whipping back and forth between Felix, Changbin, and Aiden.
“I don’t know. Changbin be out here making up stories so he can be so melodramatic.” Aiden hissed, eyes narrowed at the male and he could see Changbin shrinking in on himself, trying to apologize with his eyes. Aiden would only consider the apology if he could get out of this situation without anyone actually thinking he wanted to screw around with Felix.
“I don’t date anyone who hasn’t seen at least Iron Man.” Felix said, a smirk playing on his lips as he joked.
“Well damn, looks like you struck out buddy.” Chan laughed and clapped a hand over Aiden’s shoulder. “Aiden hasn’t seen a single Marvel movie.”
“Wow, you truly do love under a rock, don’t you?” Minho asked in awe.
“Listen, Linda, can we dropped this stupid subject and actually study?” Aiden whined.
“Marvel isn’t stupid. Marvel is life!” Seungmin protested and Aiden could only roll his eyes as he took his seat next to Changbin. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“At this moment in time, I don’t care.” Aiden stuck out his tongue at Seungmin, snickering with the other pouted.
“Alright children, let's get down to business.” Woojin spoke, arms extending across the table to signify the end of this discussion.
“Fine. But this isn’t over. Thor is superior and you all will see this, I swear to you.” Minho huffed as he flipped open his book to start working.
Felix was glad the topic had been dropped and everyone settled into a comfortable silence. It gave him time to think about things that had been said - words so haphazardly thrown about with no regard to the people involved. And what was Felix supposed to say? ‘Right on, let's find a bed and get down to business?’
How was someone supposed to act to such a crude confession as that? He wasn’t appalled by it - he knew that much - but it also wasn’t a favorable confession considering it came from Changbin. But Aiden did deny it, claimed it was made up but it was too specific to be a lie. Changbin wasn’t that good at making up stories; his C+ literature project proved that much. So he laughed it off, continuing the joke of blasphemy about Aiden never seeing a Marvel movie. But he was aware now, so extremely aware. Every few seconds Aiden would lift his eyes to sneak a glance at him, Felix catching the movement out of his peripheral.
He was a peculiar person, Aiden. The times that they had interacted alone, he seemed so shy and uncertain. Yet when with Changbin, his personality was alimony bigger than life and on countless times pulled laughter from him over something idiotic he had said or done. There was something about him that interested Felix in some way, but was it in the way that Aiden wanted? To suddenly have feelings forced upon you was inducing anxiety-inducing and suddenly he was feeling and questioning things he had never questioned before.
‘Would it be worth it? Was he worth Aiden’s time? Would it work out? Did he even have feelings for Aiden in return?’
None of those questions were getting answered and they were burning the back of his mind, demanding some closure. The offer slipped out before he could even stop himself, lingering heavily in the quiet room. “You could always come over to my place and we could watch the movies.”
Aiden’s head lifted and their eyes locked. Everyone in the room stilled and Felix could swear they were all holding their breaths, waiting to see how this would play out. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t in the same position.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I own all the movies, including Infinity War. We could have a movie marathon this weekend.” It was an innocent offer and yet Felix felt so guilty because there was so much meaning behind it, to him. A spur of the moment thing that would satisfy his need for answers. He just hoped he didn’t up hurting Aiden in the process.
“Okay, sounds like a plan!”
Well, that was easier than he thought.
“Ooooh, sounds like a date~.” Minho teased, a smirk plastered on his face. “Felix and Aiden sitting in a tree -“
“F - U - C - K - I - N - G.” Seungmin continued, a matching smirk etched across his features as well.
“I hate you both so much.” Aiden grumbled, the two boys giggling in happiness at Aiden’s discomfort.
“It’s not a date.” Felix said quickly as he looked around the table. He wasn’t oblivious to the way Aiden’s face fell at his words and he quickly tried to back peddle his statement. “I mean-“
“Poor Aiden. Forever the unconfirmed gay virgin.” Changbin teased, laughing as he was punched in the arm. “Someday you’ll get some action.”
“I truly hate all of you.”
#stray kids#skz#stray kids fanfic#skz fanfic#fanfic#stray kids au#skz au#stray kids au fanfic#skz au fanfic#au story#the firsts#humor#fluff#felix x oc#changbin x oc#changbin x oc x felix
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Such is the life of trailblazers
Story No. 4 of my Season 7 Countdown Project. I would still love prompts for future missing scene fics!
Summary: “This heroine is my heroin.”
Rosa’s never seen anyone who looks like her on the cover of a book before. So of course she’s going to buy that book and read it. Takes place during Return to Skyfire. (Read on AO3.)
Rosa heads straight to her rented garage in Flatbush after work so she can put in a couple of hours on the Audi Ur-S6, which is a dumb-looking car but then, collecting’s never been her thing anyway. She FaceTimes with Tom Hardy for a bit to show him her progress on the ignition system and once she’s shaken him – dear God, Hardy is a talker – she cleans up and heads home.
She doesn’t think about The Crimson Portal until she’s finished heating up her dinner and is looking around for something to do while she eats. She reaches for her phone automatically, but then she notices the heavy hardcover sitting on the counter next to it. She picks up the book instead.
Rosa had grabbed it on a whim as they were leaving the convention. Jake was right, the character on the front cover looked exactly like her and so – look, she’d been curious.
Now, she flips open the cover to read the plot description on the inside jacket. The main character’s name is Xiomara Axis and she’s a natural-born truth-seeker who was abandoned at birth and raised by a blind beggar named Ishara in the slums of Devols’r. It’s even worse than Rosa imagined. She folds the book open anyway and tucks into her leftover chicken and rice.
+++
Rosa’s parents were insistent that their girls be bilingual, and so they only ever spoke Spanish to their daughters when they were young. Rosa appreciates that now – her Spanish isn’t flawless, but it’s pretty damn close – but the first few years of grade school were rough. She’d already learned to read in Spanish at home but her English was almost nonexistent and she hated being so far behind everyone else. She hated silent reading time when she had to pick her way through the worn, sticky pages of the readers everyone else had burned through, and she hated the shelves full of real books at the back of the classrooms, mocking her with titles she could barely decipher.
But when she did finally crack the English – Rosa doesn’t say or think this lightly, but it was friggin’ magical. Rosa tore through books, read her way through practically the entire school library (which, admittedly, was just a one-room portable) and then got her own card to the neighborhood branch of the public library.
She read all of the worst young adult romances of the ‘80s and ‘90s, and every dumbass Babysitters Club book (though she’s since swiped her mind clean of all of them), and everything by Anne Rice and VC Andrews and Judy Blume and Lois Lowry. She was especially drawn to fantasy novels, anything based in entirely original worlds that she could get lost in. Her favorite was The Song of the Lioness series, which she read at least three times through, because here, at last, a girl was the hero.
But by middle school Rosa had decided that even Alanna of Trebond – the red-haired and fair-skinned protagonist who tried so hard for so long to hide who she really was – didn’t belong to her, a Latina born to immigrant parents who, at age 14, already knew exactly who she was but had no idea what to do with that person. Rosa was angry at 14, already hard-headed and independent. She was fed up with white girls and white boys and white men, for fuck’s sake, telling her story.
So she stopped reading. Rosa decided that she needed to live in the real world and not her fantasy novels if she was going to figure out her place.
Over the years, she’d pick up a dumb summer beach read now and again. She plowed through nonfiction books when she came across a new subject she needed to learn all about. She even briefly majored in “ethnic” literature in college before realizing it was totally insulting that anything non-white just got lumped together.
But otherwise – well, fantasy was best left to children, she’d decided a long time ago.
+++
Rosa’s dinner goes cold as she blazes through the first three chapters of The Crimson Portal. At the end of the third chapter – The C’y’thian Denizens – she lays the book flat on the kitchen table so she can pack the chicken and rice back into a tupperware bowl. She grabs a diet soda and a bag of Pirate’s Booty stashed in the back of her pantry instead, and she takes the book and the popcorn and the drink to her living room and curls up on her sofa, socked feet pulled up under her legs and a blanket in her lap.
She can’t remember the last time she just indulged in a book. Not since she was a child, for sure. She reads for hours, well after her bedtime, pausing only to take out her contacts and change into pajamas, and later to crawl into bed, where she keeps reading under the orange glow of her bedside lamp.
Xiomara is mean and hilarious. She’s a fierce protector and a ruthless revenge-seeker and she’s smart in a way that’s useful in her adventure-seeking life. She speaks three languages – the one of her birth, the one of her youth, and the one that was an unexpected side effect of the time she was poisoned by the Liars of Dollomar – and is proud of the heritage that unspools before her as she seeks the Ancient Forbidden Rings.
Xiomara knows herself. And if the rest of her world doesn’t understand her, that’s their problem. Rosa is in love.
She finally closes the book, sliding a slim razor between the pages to mark her place, when her eyes are aching and her concentration is so shot that she knows she’ll probably have to reread the last chapter or two in the morning. She sets the book on her nightstand and turns off the lamp, and when she closes her eyes, she sees herself: tall, proud, wild hair flying all about, black eyes bright and eager even as the world burns all around her.
She smiles as she slips off to sleep.
End Notes:
Title is from Bikini Babe Workout (Bash Brothers).
The Skyfire episodes aren’t my favorites, but I love the idea of Rosa realizing that her doppelganger is the hero of a fantasy novel. And I love even more that she reads the book and totally digs it.
I haven’t actually read The Song of the Lioness (what I have here is from Wikipedia) so if I got something horribly wrong – I’m sorry? Please feel free to let me know and I’ll make revisions.
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felicity helena burgess is the twenty year old sophomore in professor ellison’s classics course. they are a capricorn, which is probably what makes them so creative and diligent. every time i see them, i can’t help but think of loose fitted turtle necks, the smell of your grandmother’s coco chanel, the sound of turning pages, no makeup but red lipstick, running barefoot in a graveyard past midnight, the smell of fresh coffee in the early morning, golden glitter stuck to your skin.
FULL NAME : felicity helena burgess
NICKNAME : effy/effie, flick (to family members only)
BIRTHDAY : january 9 1999
ZODIAC : capricorn sun, scorpio moon, capricorn rising
NATIONALITY : american
RELIGION : roman catholic
SEXUAL & ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : bisexual , biromantic
HOMETOWN : fairfield, connecticut & new york, new york
FAMILY :
father: laurent (laurence) burgess
mother: jacqueline black
full siblings: ambrose burgess, 28 & brother, 21-22 (wanted connection!)
half sibling: emile burgess, 42, from father’s first marriage
step sibling: step sister , 18-22, from father’s current marriage (wanted connection!)
ACCENT : posh, new england
LANGUAGES SPOKEN : english (germanic), french (romance), german (germanic), russian (slavic), mandarin (indic, eastern zone), greek (hellenic / literate, not fluent), arabic (indic / literate , not fluent)
MAJOR : english literature
MINOR(S) : french and romance philology & greek
HOBBIES : reading, horseback riding, tennis, tarot card readings, collecting vinyl
AESTHETICS : loose fitted turtle necks, the smell of your grandmother’s coco chanel, the sound of turning pages, no makeup but red lipstick, running barefoot in a graveyard past midnight, the smell of fresh coffee in the early morning, golden glitter stuck to your skin + PINTEREST
CHARACTER PARALLELS : camilla macaulay (the secret history), siobhan roy (succession), kitsey barbour (the goldfinch), amma crellin (sharp objects), alice charles (the politician)
FAMILY PARALLELS : roy family (succession) belfort family (wolf of wall street), horowitz family (clueless),
BACKGROUND & FAMILY DYNAMICS
if you grew up in north america, you have probably heard of the burgess family. hell, even if you didn’t grow up in america, you have probably heard of the burgess family.
though they pride themselves on “small town family values” and “keeping the business in the family,” the burgess family has no intention of actually relating to small town america, to trusted catholic traditions, to family run businesses.
true, the leaders of the multibillion dollar media conglomerate known as VVIO are all close friends of the family, if not actually family members, but that’s about where the similarities between the burgesses and middle class america end.
Vvio is one of the largest media conglomerates in north america. think similar to cbs/viacom, they have news, movies, television, late night shows, streaming platforms ! whew..
their father, laurent burgess, known better as laurence in an attempt to americanize himself after emigrating from france in the 1960′s, is the ceo and mastermind behind Vvio. coming from a poor family from the outskirts of paris, laurence moved to america’s real capital — new york city, not dc — with big dreams and even bigger ambitions.
in the grand scheme of things, Vvio grew into the multibillion dollar corporation that it is today rather quickly. by the time laurence was in his early 30′s, he was a millionaire. at that point, he was married to a woman he’d known in france, his “first love,” who he’d flown out from their small town to be with him in new york at the first signs of success.
he was a multi millionaire, a drug addict, an alcoholic, a serial cheater. he fell in love with a young french model in the 80′s, and is having an affair for an entire year before his wife finds out. though they try to reconcile, they ultimately end up getting a divorce, and he marries the french model not even a year later.
that french model was jacqueline black, felicity’s mother. they would be married for nineteen years before ultimately getting a divorce, which both can be blamed for, but it was mostly laurence and his inability to stay faithful or sober
the burgesses grew up in fairfield, ct. each of the siblings attended private school in the city, a near two hour commute each way for the best education possible.
THE SIBLINGS: growing up, everyone was constantly fighting for the attention of their father. the eldest son, ambrose was “the fuck up,” but he’s a rich fuck up, so did it really matter? very george bush-esque — always drunk, doing coke, fucking prostitutes, but did he still get into harvard with no merits because of his last name? you bet. emile was their father’s pride and joy. which wasn’t necessarily a good thing, when all his siblings had daggers in their eyes thinking that he was just as much a fuck up as ambrose. it was true, fortune favors the fuck ups. felicity’s other older brother (wc!!) would be the obvious choice to take over. sure, he can be wild, reckless, and impulsive — but he’s intelligent, fiercely competitive, and a people person through and through. everybody loves him. except for their father, who seems not to notice all the areas in which he excels. felicity is “daddy’s little girl” which was nice as a kid, she was favored and loved and one of the few children in which he shows affection toward — but it quickly grew old as she grew up. intelligent and well rounded, never one to drunkenly throw herself off a bridge like her, or snort so much cocaine they can’t move their legs, or get in a car accident that needs covering up like her brothers. but no matter what, she was the little girl. kept away from the business and the politics, a fragile mind like hers couldn’t “handle it.” she spends so much time trying to prove herself again and again to her father, that she was just as intelligent and capable as her brothers, only to churn out the same goddamn result. her relationship with her step sister (wc!!) isn’t a great one, seeing as they are the same age, and have been in competition with one another since they became sisters at thirteen. but she has it lucky — she will never feel the need to fight for laurence’s attention.
PERSONALITY
when felicity was three years old she wondered into the section of the house her father forbade the kids from going. included in that section was his library — an enormous room with high ceilings, covered ceiling to floor with bookshelves, lined with all sorts of books from academic papers to novels, first edition to signed copies, etc. she fell in love, and when her father found her in there, he decided to let her explore, expand her horizons instead of punishing her for breaking the rules (which probably would have happened had it been one of her brothers, rather than her)
it was the start of her love for all things language arts & literature. her father saw it early on, deciding to hone in on the skill, he allowed and encouraged her to pick one book from his library each week. while the jacqueline spoke to all their kids in french, laurence also decided it was best to hire tutors for felicity, who clearly had a knack for languages, and encouraged her to learn some of the world’s most important languages, as well as choose ones that she would like to learn based on interest alone (like greek, for example)
felicity is an academic through and through. not only does it come naturally to her, but she enjoys learning. unlike her brothers, going out and getting fucked up all weekend isn’t her idea of fun. she’s much more straight edge — enjoys sophisticated dinner parties with a glass of wine. if she’s hanging out with “the boys,” she’ll have a glass of scotch. she never drinks in excess, always seems very collected and poised, and is the first to call out her siblings for acting idiotically. not that they care, there never seems to be any repercussions in the burgess family, not legally at least — though their father’s disappointment tends to be one of the worst consequences imaginable.
picking a weekly book from her father’s library continued until she moved to attend leopold university at eighteen. when she was thirteen, she came across a book on astrology, and was completely enamored by it. of course, she’d learned about zodiacs before, but never in depth, and it became a new project for her, learning everything about the signs and birth charts, planets and placements. by fourteen she was discovering her entire family’s birth charts, seeing how they each fit in and played a part. with one another. this eventually lead to other spiritual activities, such as tarot cards, which is now one of her biggest passions. she has a collection of different decks, but her favorite remains as the deck she’d bought for herself at seventeen, from a vintage, spiritual and healing store in the east village of new york.
emile was the first of the burgess siblings to be accepted to leopold and handpicked by professor ellison, so that when felicity and the others decided to attend, he’d already had the burgesses on his radar. one of the most powerful families in north america, and even the world, it was no wonder that ellison had taken an interest in them. since joining the classics course last year, felicity has formed quite a special bond with their professor. her knack and knowledge of multiple languages has piqued his interest, and they often sit together in his office and discuss works of different origins and translations and compare the literatures together. professor ellison has been helping her in her quest to learn greek and also arabic, which so far she has almost mastered reading, but still needs to work on speaking.
kind of has major daddy issues, thanks to spending her whole life competing for her father’s validation, which is where her strive for professor ellison’s validation comes from. she really seeks for his approval and favoritism, because it’s his validation that soothes the open wound that her father could never seem to fill with his empty promises and lack of approval
RANDOM HCS/TIDBITS
has a big, fat orange cat named henri
drinks 3-4 cups of coffee every day, along with 2-3 cups of tea
has never received a grade lower than 97%
wears a lot of gold jewelry, especially gold rings
wants to be a novelist, and yet hasn’t even started working on her first novel. does have a few published short stories and poems, though.
has an entire drawer in her apartment full of crystals for different days, moods, seasons, health issues, etc.
parisian girl at heart, spent many summer and winter vacations in paris and it’s her favorite place in the entire world. yes, she romanticizes the fuck out of it
that being said, she romanticizes the fuck out of everything and everyone. perhaps it has something to do with being a writer and a poet. you’re always sad and in love with something.
WANTED CONNECTIONS
siblings! she has an older brother (21-22) and a step sister (18-22) that would work for this group! if you’d be interested in being a part of the burgess fam (the step sister would obviously have a different last name) then hmu
cousins!!! this family is VERY family-centric, the whole company they own is family-centric, so even if they’re not actually close, they’re close. if that makes sense. this could be a cousin from his first marriage or second marriage (if through the mother’s side), or a cousin from the dad’s side in which case might cause some ~drama~ because felicity’s dad definitely slighted his siblings and doesn’t really talk to any of them (which would be that muse’s parents)
best friend: felicity spent most her life surrounded by boys (she’s the only daughter, minus her newer step sister), and has always found it easier to get along with them. so, mostly, she’s friends with boys, but i imagine her BEST best friend, the one she shares all her secrets with and really lets in, is a girl.
close circle: effie is a capricorn which means she doesn’t let just anyone in. she’s never really liked the idea of having a lot of friends. a few, very close friends has always been the smarter decision in her mind. that way you don’t lose track of who you should and shouldn’t trust. and if someone misplaces your trust, you know exactly who to cut off. where their loyalties lie. anyway, like i said, she tends to mostly be friends with boys, just because it’s what she’s used to, and finds herself being fiercely competitive with most other girls, so this would be mostly made up of guys! with maybe an exception.
roommate: could possibly be looped in with best friend / close circle, but i imagine they have a quaint, historical, and beautiful two bedroom apartment off campus.
rival: if i get her step sister wc, that would be this, but if not, just someone in which a rivalry has sparked up since they both joined the classics course. perhaps they are both striving to be the professor’s favorite or something IDK
toxic, on-and-off rs: this could be m/f/nb since effie is biromantic/bisexual, but basically the two are just not right for each other. it’s equally toxic on both ends. on felicity’s end, she tends to be controlling and jealous, and very much a know-it-all that can often be hard to deal with. probably an rs that won’t last anyway because they truly are not meant to be but also it’s nice to see where the chemistry goes anyway lmao
bad influence: effie is v straight edge so someone get her dunk !!! she tends to pass on most parties unless it’s like #dinnerparty so like i need a connection that drags her ass out to everything she says no to
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hello this is a cute little highschool!AU for otayuri it’s my second fic ever don’t judge me
anyways this was supposed to be a funny little crack fic based on some starter but here we are with 3486 words and a whole lot of regret
“prom?”
Yuri gasped, looking up from the ring at Otabek, who was eyeing him nervously, and nodding furiously. It was a perfect promposal. Not to over-the-top or public, but something simple and beautiful and quiet…just like Yuri’s new prom date.
Otabek smiled widely, a rare gift from him, and plucked the ring out of Yuri’s fingers, sliding it back onto his hand.
“I’m glad. You can call me Beka, by the way…if you want to…or whatever.”
Yuri smiled widely.
“Call me Yura.”
#fanfic#yuuri on ice#yuri on ice#yuri plisetsky#yurio x otabek#otabek x yurio#otabek altin#otayuri#otayurio#otaburi#otaburio#there are TOO MANY SHIP NAMES
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Illusion
Chapter 2
Originally Claudio had persuaded Felicia to live with him (at some inconvenience given their differences) to discourage her from sleeping with anybody else.
He did not love Felicia. He was fixated on her. Obsessed. Above all, he dreaded losing his young girlfriend.
But the cocaine nights were getting to be a problem. The chaos was making their life together untenable. ‘Out with friends’: what a mountain of youthful idiocy the phrase conjured.
It was 8 o’clock in the morning. Felicia had just come in, still off her head. Yet to come down, when she would lie with her face to wall, so bleak and guilty.
Before she’d arrived back, despite anxiety about her night-long absence, he had been shaved and showered, his maroon silk dressing gown on, coffee ready. He’d been about to start the day. She stumbled in, half-falling off her heels, traces of white powder up her nostril, flinging her jacket over the kitchen stool.
Then the high-speed monologue. ‘Don’t look at me like that. I’ve been enjoying myself! We had such a laugh. The cab driver was an idiot. He tried to overcharge me, said it was a night fare because I’d been out for the night. Idiot. Bel was there. She’s come out. Her parents have banned her. Well, you know what they’re like. They’re such good Catholics they’d lick the Pope’s bare arse. She’s in love – not with me, don’t worry! With this woman – she was there for a bit till she punched this girl who was coming on to Bel and the bouncers came for her. Bel asked how you were – you know, how we were. She’s of the firm opinion, Claudio, especially now she’s a militant lesbian, that all men are idiots. But I said, what can you do – I meant what can I do – if I don’t fancy women. Do you know what she said, she said that she only started fancying women when she was seventeen. A woman hit on her and she liked it – a whole lot! And when they did it, you know, she was much better than any man. Think about that. I might try it. Only joking! Anyway, after this first demon girl lover, Bel said she found men’s picos ridiculous, that’s before you even get to what men are actually like, I mean their characters. I said, they’re not all bad but I have to admit Claudio is a bit of a shit!’
‘Ah, well that’s nice,’ said Claudio. ‘How very edifying it all sounds.’
Felicia twisted her face into a mask of clichéd scorn – a ‘new’ expression – Claudio could swear it didn’t exist in his youth, a generational tick for cynical times.
‘Darling,’ he said, ‘your opinions when you’re this far gone aren’t worth a dime. That’s all I’ve got to say.’
‘Don’t come over all moral with me, Claudio. You like a drink with your fancy friends when it suits you.’
‘Felicia…’
‘Anyway,’ she went on, biting into an apple she had snatched from the fruit bowl, ‘at least I’m faithful to you.’ She sat down and flung her feet up on another chair.
He turned away on the pretext of pouring his coffee. This he hadn’t expected.
He prepared his own mask and turned. She fixed him fiercely. ‘You, on the other hand, Claudio. Do you know what you are – a love cheat, a typical porteño. You don’t see yourself as a generic Buenos Aires skirt-chaser. You’re too “civilised”. Precious vegetarian in a country of meat-eaters. Poet. Novelist – except that you haven’t had a novel published for years. Living off the income from your grandparents….’
‘Leave my grandparents out of it. They were hardworking Jewish immigrants who…’
‘I will leave them out of it!’ she shouted, thoroughly fired up. ‘I’m talking about you.’
‘What about me?’
‘You’re a cheating, middle-aged ponce, with your out-of-date grooming… your shiny shoes, your manicure. Your hair with grey flecks all done up in a sweep to make it look thicker.’
‘I’m not listening to this.’
‘You better listen, cheater!’
‘You’re contemptible,’ he muttered.
‘Deny it, hijo de puta! You know all the tricks. You did it with me. Some low-lit bar, you all world-weary. Putting your head to one side. The flickering eyelashes. The candlelight gleaming in your slimy, cheating eyes. You toy with the stem of your glass. You swirl the wine with trembling hand. You utter some deep and meaningful bollocks. Next thing it’s back to her place. And then she’s in for a real disappointment. But Claudio has another one to write in his little book. I bet you’ve got a book by the way. I’ll find it… I bet…’ She slowed, looked down to the floor and suddenly seemed to fade before his very eyes.
‘I need some coffee,’ she said.
He poured her a cup. She put her feet down, sat up and sipped slowly and thoughtfully. Staring down she whispered into the cup, ‘Little cup, why does he cheat on me? Aren’t I good enough for him?’
He moved over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Felicia… these nights out… the drugs… you get things all wrong… it’s got to stop.’
And that Claudio did believe – even if mainly for selfish reasons.
Felicia said, ‘Claudio, I’ve been thinking about Arcadia…’
‘Oh, not that…’
‘Yes, that.’
Later, as she came further down and grew sad and anxious, a better atmosphere arose between them. They went through to the bedroom. His love-making was intense. Her response was tender. Afterwards they lay quietly together.
‘I’ll get clean there,’ she murmured, burying her head in his naked chest. ‘Then I’ll make a new start back here in Buenos Aires. I’d already thought of that when Lazar was here but I wasn’t ready. I was in denial. Now I’m ready... Oh God, I shouldn’t have gone out last night… Never again.’ He murmured approval, suppressing his scepticism.
Nevertheless… Might there be something to be said for Arcadia? Did the abstinence rule offer hope? Maybe if the two of them could be away from everything in a place where she couldn’t get cocaine, she could find out she was better off without it and be a little more amenable.
They continued to lie side by side. Claudio stared up and saw… Arcadia.
He projected on to the ceiling the image of a graceful mansion set in a natural paradise. In the centre of it all, a ‘clean’ Felicia, devoted, available day and night. His heart beat faster. Perhaps, with plenty of time at their disposal, they would feel relaxed enough get into some seriously interesting sex games. He closed his eyes.
‘By the way, Felicia, did you already know Lazar?’
‘No. He’s your friend. What makes you ask?’
True answer: suspicion of Lazar; suspicion of Felicia; jealousy of any man in Felicia’s vicinity.
‘Nothing… just a thought.’
‘Do you think I’ve met him somewhere and fucked him?’
‘Felicia. No.’ It was precisely what he was wondering. ’You know, my love, I’m coming round. I have to say Arcadia beckons to me now. It could be good for both of us. Truth to tell, I’m a bit jaded myself.’
‘You’ve changed your tune. That’s good.’
He needed her again. He moved his hand ‘expertly’ between her thighs. There was a pause. He smiled his winning smile. As he lifted himself on to her she looked up past his shoulder at the pale ceiling which had held his dream.
Afterwards he said, ‘You call Lazar, will you? I don’t always feel like talking to him.’
The call was made and Lazar visited the next evening.
As soon as he had settled himself at the table with maté Lazar picked up where he had left off.
‘There’s no clear definition of what to take with you to Arcadia. You use your taste and imagination. You wouldn’t be invited if you didn’t have taste and imagination!’
‘Isn’t it a bit… boring?’ asked Felicia.
‘It depends how you define boring. Competitive games are not allowed. I know some people would hate that. Their main idea of a holiday is to find someone to thrash at tennis or golf and while away the evening at billiards or poker. No, no golf course, no tennis or badminton courts, no croquet, no bochas.’
‘So what is it,’ asked Claudio, ‘meditation and yoga, all that stuff?’
‘Absolutely not. Climbing, riding, boating, collecting flower and rock specimens. Theatricals. Flirting – with the utmost decorum. Do you enjoy flirting, Felicia?’
‘What Argentine doesn’t flirt?’ she replied. ‘Men are worse.’
‘Anyway,’ continued Lazar, ‘The idea is to re-create the way the English aristocracy entertained themselves in their grand houses a century ago.’
Lazar and Claudio had studied English literature at the boarding school they had attended together which, though Jewish, had been modelled on British lines. Dickens, Robert Louis Stevenson and Agatha Christie had always been a shared reference.
‘Then why no croquet or billiards?’ asked Claudio. ‘Surely they’re essential along with drink – tea-time Madeira, port when the ladies have retired after dinner.’
‘A good question. I will swiftly answer it. Significant as is the Victorian, Anglo-Saxon “dream” at Arcadia, there is another idea which is even more important. From this there can’t be any loss of focus due to people messing about or getting drunk.’
‘Good heavens,’ murmured Claudio, ‘what is it?’
‘I mentioned it to you before, Claudio. No machines.’ Lazar leant forward and spoke with sudden intensity. ‘No cars, No gadgets. No transistor radios, calculators, electric razors and hair curlers.’
‘What about watches?’
‘The exception. A modern thing allowed at Arcadia because, like Yorick’s skull in Hamlet, a watch is silent and helps philosophical thinking. Apart for that no post, no telephone, or cameras of any kind,’
‘What about the Victorian masters of photography: Fox Talbot, Julia Margaret Cameron? They did all their work in country houses.’
‘Wait, Claudio, I’ll explain.’
Felicia was fidgeting. ‘Come on you two, this is getting boring. We don’t need the finer points.’
‘Felicia is right,’ declared Lazar. ‘There is only one central point. The machine. Arcadia is fixed in the past, but, let me tell you, a past that was heading for a different future from what actually happened. A past that said no to machines except the simplest. Any machine that is incapable of being understood or repaired, come to that, by an ordinary person is an enemy. Alienation. Marx, Marcuse and all that. Remember? None of this “harnessing science” rubbish. Computers: shit. Machines that we can’t understand are shit. They make idiots of us. People are slaves to them.’
Felicia got up and, leaning her forehead against the window, stared down at the traffic-choked street. ‘Rush hour… Look at them all.’
Lazar, sitting across from Claudio, was drumming his fingers on the table. ‘By the way,’ he said, ‘if you take binoculars to look for that condor, they will have to be antique. An ancient brass telescope might be more in keeping.’
Felicia turned from the window. ‘Let’s decide once and for all, Claudio. After a day like today I’m feeling that computers are shit too. Let’s get away from this pollution, from all this noise and mess. The city stinks. We can’t get rid of the cockroaches here in the kitchen. I need a break. It sounds all right.’
‘Well…’ Claudio rubbed his chin.
‘While you’re thinking about it,’ said Felicia, ‘why don’t you offer Lazar a tinto.’
Claudio silently cursed that this would mean he would have to endure Lazar’s company for longer, but he was not averse to a drink. ‘I’ll open a bottle,’ he said.
He got up and headed for the wine rack. He busied himself. The cork popped.
‘Tinto, Lazar?’
They drank. Before long they were on to a second bottle. Claudio rustled up some food, partly to get away from the intensity of discussion with Lazar. While he cooked, Felicia and their guest went into the other room and seemed to be swapping Buenos Aires gossip.
Outside, darkness fell. The moon pushed its way up over the muddy Plata into a sky rancid with police sirens. The windows were wide open but Claudio felt no trace of a cooling breeze. Staring out, spatula in hand, he thought again about Arcadia. A contrast… luxury, quiet… Heaven maybe…
‘Lazar,’ he called out, ‘Are you hungry? I will be honoured if you will sample my vegetarian stroganoff.’
When they came through Claudio asked Lazar casually, ‘By the way, will you be at Arcadia this summer?’
‘No, I’m staying here in town.’
This decided Claudio. ‘Oh, that’s a pity,’ he murmured.
He put the food out. Felicia poured more wine.
‘Buen provecho!’ said Claudio. ‘Thank you for your idea, Lazar. We have overcome our doubts. We cannot resist your blandishments. We are ready.’
The three raised their glasses to Arcadia.
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AK Monthly Recap: June 2017
It feels like my first real summer in New York this year. Last year I spent a lot of time away — big trips to South Africa and Colombia, plus I left for the Fourth of July and Labor Day. But this year I’m determined to fully experience the city in the summer.
The verdict?
Summer in New York sucks.
Don’t get me wrong, I still adore this city — but summer is not when it’s at its best. The scent of urine in the air is particularly pungent. Standing on a subway platform is like being in a furnace. Layers upon layers of grime and sweat build up on your face. And the only way to truly cool off is to go somewhere inside with air conditioning.
Still, I’d rather be here than anywhere else.
Destinations Visited
New York, New York
Reading, Boston, Cambridge, Somerville, and Chelsea, Massachusetts
Asheville, North Carolina
Favorite Destination
Asheville is one of my new favorite getaways in the United States!
Highlights
Getting named one of Forbes‘ Top 10 Travel Influencers. A huge honor, a big surprise, and easily the highlight of my month.
Asheville was a fabulous trip. I fell in love with the city, its food scene and the lovely people who call Asheville home. I won’t get too into it because I just wrote the whole post about it, but it was lovely. I’d really like to go back and experience more.
Celebrating my dad’s birthday and Father’s Day on a beer tour of Boston. My sister arranged for the three of us to do a tour with City Brew Tours, which took us to four breweries around the area. It was a lot of fun! If you’re into beer, I would definitely recommend checking them out. They’re in several cities.
We finished with dinner at Myers and Chang, a favorite Boston restaurant of my sister’s and one I shockingly had never been to. They serve fusion Chinese-Thai-Vietnamese-Taiwanese fare and definitely lived up to the hype.
Seeing Allison Janney on Broadway in Six Degrees of Separation. Unfortunately, the play recently closed, but it was SO good! Hilarious and weird in all the right ways. Allison Janney elevates every project she’s in, but she’s almost always in supporting roles, so it was so nice to see her as the lead.
Exploring some new parts of New York. I did a trip to Little Italy in the Bronx and I know I’m going to be making more trips for the outstanding bocconcini (bite-sized mozzarella) at Casa della Mozzarella! I also checked out Coney Island, but it was rainy and a bit depressing.
Lots of visits from British friends. Three sets of blogger and travel industry friends from the UK came to New York this month! I was happy to see them. Sometimes it feels like the European travel bloggers don’t come to the States at all, so I was thrilled to spend time with them here.
I chopped my hair off. Not too too much, but I did lose a good six inches! I also re-colored it. I’ve been wrestling with whether or not to return to my dark natural color — has the blonde run its course?
Getting my first Stitch Fix and Trunk Club boxes. I’ve been wanting to change up my fashion lately and I was curious about the online services that choose clothes for you, so I decided to try out Stitch Fix and Trunk Club.
They’re similar. Stitch Fix sends you five items; Trunk Club sends you ten. Both charge a styling fee ($20 at Stitch Fix, $25 at Trunk Club) which you can put toward your purchase. Also, Stitch Fix gives you a 25% discount if you buy all five items. Stitch Fix sends you styling ideas with the items; Trunk Club pairs you with a personal stylist you use each time.
Between the two services I definitely prefer Trunk Club. The clothes were much higher quality and fit me better. I like building a relationship with one stylist, and the clothes are all from Nordstrom, which I love. If I had a bigger budget, I would have bought more of the items (but I can’t justify spending $147 on a flannel, even if it looks awesome on me).
I did end up with two pieces I love — cool distressed skinny jeans with a fringed hem from Stitch Fix and a fabulous coral lace dress from Trunk Club. I’m definitely going to continue with Trunk Club.
Challenges
I got stuck in delay hell in Charlotte. There were storms in New York when I was due to fly back from Asheville, and my flight kept getting delayed and re-delayed every hour, then cancelled, then I got booked on the last seat on another flight home. I was supposed to be home by 4:00 PM; I didn’t get home until 1:30 AM.
It would have been so much better if the delay had been all at once, not an hour at a time!
Also, my phone has started to fall apart, but I really don’t want to get a new one when the new update is a few months away…it’s running on borrowed time.
There were also a few setbacks this month that I’d rather not go into. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a viewing of Dead Man On Campus.
Most Popular Post
On Influence, and Using It Wisely — We have an obligation to our followers to do as much good as we can.
Other Posts
14 Reasons Why I’m Smitten with Asheville, North Carolina — 4,000 words about my weekend in Asheville.
In Odessa, Romance and Grandeur — I seriously fell hard for the Ukrainian city of Odessa.
Six Ways to Travel More Sustainably — We could all stand to do better.
Bucharest is Fabulous and Fun — All the best things I enjoyed in this cool city.
Most Popular Instagram Photo
People love a good door. This shot from Cartagena did well. For more updates from my travels, follow me on Instagram at @adventurouskate. I am soooo close to hitting 100k…
Fitness Update
I had the most unlucky week at the gym this month. On Tuesday, I had to quit a fitness class halfway through for the first time ever. It was Tabata (a series of drills where you do 20 seconds of exercise followed by 10 seconds of rest) and though there isn’t much I can’t do for 20 seconds, it was so exhausting that I was seeing stars and felt like I was going to faint. Leaving the room and sitting down made me feel better, but I didn’t go back.
Also, fuck burpees. I hate them so much.
Then on Wednesday my Zumba instructor was a no-show (first time that’s ever happened), so I decided to attempt running on the treadmill instead, and though I was doing a modest two minutes of running at 6 mph followed by one minute of walking at 4 mph, I felt a twinge in my knee and had to stop. I couldn’t do stairs without pain (not fun in NYC).
Then on Friday I mixed up the times, again for the first time ever, and was late to Zumba. Oh well. At least I had my personal training session right after and I’m lifting more weight than I was last month!
What I Read This Month
We’re officially halfway through the year and I’m 36 books into the 52-book 2017 Popsugar Reading Challenge! I actually read eight books this month, four of them from Book of the Month (where you can get a new book for three months for $9.99 each — US only). Here we go.
Lillian Boxfish Takes a Walk by Kathleen Rooney (2017) — This is my favorite novel of the year so far. Lillian Boxfish is based on the life of Margaret Fishback, America’s highest paid female copywriter of the 1930s. Lillian takes a walk through gritty Manhattan on New Year’s Eve 1984, meets characters along the way, and reminisces about her life. It was as much of a love letter to a transforming New York as it was a story of an incredible life. I absolutely loved the author’s use of language.
If you are an independent woman, a writer, or a New Yorker, you must read this book. If you like smart books and memorable characters, you’ll adore this book. As the book ended, I felt so sad — I wish I could go for a walk with Lillian in real life! Category: a book set around a holiday other than Christmas.
The Explorer and Other Stories by Jyrki Vainonen (2013) — Did you know that “Finnish weird” is a genre of literature? They don’t use literary agents in Finland, so they’re less commercially minded and thus publish a lot of strange literature. I love Finland, so I was eager to jump in!
These stories are weird. “The Explorer” is about a man who decided to journey into his wife’s thigh. That kind of stuff. I found this collection of Vainonen’s stories similar to Ottessa Moshfegh’s Homesick for Another World, but not as repulsive. At 92 pages, it’s a quick read. If you’re planning a trip to Finland, pick this book up! Category: a book from a genre/subgenre you’ve never heard of.
The Mothers by Brit Bennett (2016) — Three teenagers growing up in an evangelical black church in San Diego make a decision that haunts them for years after and throws them into turmoil. The book centers on motherhood — characters’ mothers, how they mother each other, and the book is narrated by a chorus of mothers in the congregation.
I loved this book — and at the same time, it made me so sad for each of the characters. I wanted to take care of all of them in the end. The book is also a study on how evangelical communities too often blame the woman when anything goes wrong in a family. Category: a book with a family-member term in the title.
A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles (2016) — What a magnificent book. Lush, cinematic, and beautiful. Count Rostov, a 30-year-old aristocrat, is sentenced to house arrest for the rest of his life in the grand Metropol hotel in Moscow. Through this predicament he tries to find beauty and meaning however he can as Russia changes exponentially — and the results are deeply moving.
I want this book to become a movie SO badly! It sounds a lot like The Grand Budapest Hotel, but so many of the scenes are described so beautifully, and the dialogue is incredibly witty. I definitely had a crush on the Count at one point. This book will leave you with the biggest smile on your face. Category: a book set in a hotel.
Eugene Onegin by Alexander Pushkin (1825) — This was my book club’s pick of the month — a Russian novel written in verse! Eugene Onegin is a man sent from the city to the country following a relative’s death, and he has a number of adventures in life and love. The entire book is written in verse, and I was very impressed with the translation.
It’s funny, it’s light, it’s delightful, and it’s something different. It did help to go through Wikipedia after reading each chapter and seeing what I missed, though. Between this and A Gentleman in Moscow, I’ve awakened a new interest in Russian literature and culture. My friends and I want to celebrate this book in Russian style at our next meetup — so we might go to Brighton Beach in Brooklyn (a.k.a. Little Odessa) or just hit up a vodka bar with a walk-in freezer! Category: a book with a title that’s a character’s name.
A Million Junes by Emily Henry (2017) — This is the closest I get to a summer read — a bright and fun book best enjoyed if you let go a little bit. Two teenagers in a rural Michigan town are the surviving progeny of two feuding families — and they’re cursed. Of course, they fall in love and try to undo the curse with the help of several ghosts.
At first I was rolling my eyes and thought the teenagers were too witty for their own good, Gilmore Girls-style, but once I let go, I began to enjoy the book a lot more. The book isn’t just an adventure, it’s also about dealing with grief and how you move on and live your life while honoring those you’ve lost. To my surprise, it’s one of the highest rated Book of the Month selections this year. Category: a book with a month or day of the week in the title.
The Gift: Poems by Hafiz, the Great Sufi Master, translated by Daniel Ladinsky (1999) — I’ve been curious about Persian poetry for awhile, so when I found a shelf devoted to Persian poetry at Malaprop’s in Asheville, I decided to pick up this volume. And what a surprising treasure it was.
Hafiz’s poetry is about celebrating the love of God — a funny, compassionate, deeply loving and giving God. The kind of God who is on your side, your best friend, cheering for you and helping you. I actually found out later that this is one of Elizabeth Gilbert’s all-time favorite books; knowing her brand of spirituality, I’m not surprised at all! If you want more poetry in your life, I highly recommend picking up this book or any of Hafiz’s poetry. Category: a book by an author who uses a pseudonym.
Dirty River: A Queer Femme of Color Dreaming Her Way Home by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha (2016) — I was recently putting together a list of my all-time favorite memoirs and was shocked to realize that almost none were written by women of color. I read a lot of books by women of color, but they tend to be fiction, so I’m making an effort to add some more memoirs to my list. If you have any recommendations, I’d love to hear them; Roxane Gay’s Hunger is next.
Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha grew up in Worcester, Mass., and this book is about her emigration to Canada, her discovery and celebration of her queer, brown, working class identity; her difficulties with disability; her struggles through severe poverty; and her coming to terms with her sexual abuse. This book covers so many perspectives that aren’t featured in mainstream literature, and for that reason alone this book is worth a read. She tells her story frankly and apologetically, and the scenes are richly painted (especially the South Asian queer events in Toronto). Category: a book by or about a person with a disability.
What I Watched This Month
It was time for my annual House of Cards binge, and it was awesome. It wasn’t my favorite season (that’s a tie between Season 1 and Season 4), but House of Cards on an off season is still better than most shows on television.
Just one thing — without revealing any spoilers, they mentioned a possibility related to the election that would have been SO cool to see play out, so unusual and dramatic that I was certain they were going to do it — and then they didn’t do it. It felt like Chekhov’s gun to me, and they ultimately did nothing with it.
Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt was nice, if a bit off, this season. Of course, I loved the addition of Hamilton‘s Daveed Diggs to the cast! (And the “Boobs of California” song has yet to leave my head.)
Also — I saw Wonder Woman. SO good. It amazed me how remarkable and yet ordinary it felt to watch a feminist superhero movie with the male gaze removed.
Coming Up in July 2017
I’m heading back to the Keys! Florida Keys Tourism invited me to come back and try out some things I didn’t get to experience on my February trip. The Keys are one of my favorite new discoveries in the States lately; I’m glad I get to go back so soon. What am I most excited for? The Hemingway lookalike contest in Key West! I’ll be concentrating on Key Largo and Key West this time around.
And now I’m even more glad that I didn’t end up writing a post on where to find the best key lime pies in the Keys because I have time to do more research! Delicious, delicious research…
Other than that, I’m likely staying put in New York the rest of the month, but I’d love to get in some day trips around the region. There are boats that go direct to Jersey shore towns from Manhattan, and I’d love to get to City Island in the Bronx as well.
What are you up to this summer? Share away!
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