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artificial-transmutations · 9 months

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Boyfriend Material

Against all odds, Troy didn't hate Luka when they were assigned the same college dorm room. They were quite different, really: While Troy was the almost stereotypical nerd, from his glasses down to his checkered shirt, Luka was quite the opposite. He had a fit body and was majoring in history of sports.

Where Troy was the quiet, bookish type, Luka was outgoing and active. Troy read books, tinkered with electronics or programmed an app in his free time, while Luka went out for the gym or played rugby on the field. And, of course, even though Luka wasn't stereotypically jock-dumb, Troy was much more intelligent than him.

All those differences had a lot of potential for a relationship of hatred from day one, but, surprisingly, the two of them got along fine. They had separate bedrooms and respected each other’s boundaries so much that they barely talked to each other for the first few weeks. For Troy, it was almost as if he had the dorm for himself. Luka cleaned up after himself and in the few instances when he listened to his bass heavy music too loudly, he immediately turned it down as soon as Troy asked him to, thanking him for the notification even.

So, at first Troy and Luka had a distant but respectful relationship that even made Troy question his prejudices regarding the stereotypical dumb jock.

It was only half a year after moving in together that Troy and Luka discovered one thing they had in common: Bad luck in dating.

Troy was, of course, way too introvert and shy to meet a girl. It was a frustrating experience for him. Every time he matched someone on one of the various dating apps he used, he pondered for hours on how to start a conversation with the girl who was surely way out of his league. More often than not he decided not to text her at all and just deleted the contact frustratedly. At other times, he started a conversation but quickly found himself getting bored from the meaningless small talk. It was as if every girl he met virtually was way too shallow and way below his intellect: He couldn't find a common ground to talk about that didn't seem pointless to him.

Luka on the other hand had a quite different problem. Luka was gay, a fact that took Troy a few weeks to notice. He actually had guys over quite often and was, judging from the noises, sexually active with them as well. Here, too, Luka was very considerate not to disturb Troy too much, so Troy didn't mind at all. However, in time, Troy noticed that the guys visiting Luka were rarely the same twice in a row.

Troy suspected that Luka was enjoying his single life and thought nothing of it, but after a while even the socially awkward Troy picked up on the bad mood that seemed to befall his roommate every time one of his partners left. So, just as Luka said goodbye to a muscular Black man one evening, Troy actually asked him:

"Is everything alright, Luka?"

Luka closed the door behind his date and looked at his roommate. "Sure. Why wouldn't it be?"

Troy fiddled a bit with his glasses. He was not very good at talking to other people, especially not when it came to delicate matters.

"I just noticed that you do seem to be... going through boyfriends rather quickly."

"Boyfriends? Oh, none of them was my boyfriend."

Troy didn't know what to answer to that. He had thought the men coming and going were Luka's dates, but apparently not.

Luka sighed and sat down on the couch.

"I didn't get to the 'boyfriends' stage with any of them, you know?" Luka sounded genuinely disappointed or sad.

Troy looked for a way to escape the awkward situation, and probably Luka wouldn't even have minded being left alone. But since he brought up the topic, Troy felt compelled to offer some comfort.

So, he, too sat down on the couch and hesitated a bit before asking: "You didn't? I thought that you, you know, slept with some of them."

"Yeah, I did. With all of them, actually." Luka confirmed. He didn't sound too happy or proud though as he continued: "Getting into a guy's pants isn't very difficult. Getting into their hearts however..." his voice trailed off.

"What's the problem?" Troy asked, genuinely interested. He didn't know the differences between gay and straight people were so significant. Casual sex with a woman seemed impossible to achieve, at least to Troy. Yet Luka described it as if that was easy for gay guys.

Luka sighed. "Good question. Apparently, I'm no boyfriend material. Or the number of guys looking for something serious are rarer than I thought. Whatever the reason, I haven't had a relationship in almost three years now. It's kind of frustrating."

Troy nodded. "Yes, I know the feeling. Dating isn't easy for me either. I guess I'm just too shy. Fact is: I've never had a girlfriend."

"No way! Really?" Now Luka was the one to be surprised. "But you are a nice guy. I bet the girls are lining up for you."

"Not that I noticed, they aren't."

There was a moment of silence between the two roommates before Troy laughed. "Seems like we are not that different after all."

After that, it was like the ice between the two of them was broken. Even though they were very different, Troy and Luka got along even better and talked more. For some reason, Troy even found Luka's situation worse than his own. Sure, Troy couldn't talk to girls, let alone date any, but Luka had his heart broken again and again.

So, Troy tried to help out Luka as best as he could. They even went to a gay club together, with Troy as Luka's wingman, but that plan didn't turn out very well. Even though Troy had a drink or two, he just couldn't muster up the courage to talk to the guys and Luka did the same thing. Eventually, both were just sitting together and observed the club and the people inside and everyone just assumed they were together.

Once they got back to their dorm room, neither of them was very happy.

"Sorry, that was probably a bad idea." Troy apologized. "I really thought you would meet someone interesting today."

"Don't worry about it. It was a good idea" Luka smiled. "I still had some fun today."

"No, it's really unfair!" Troy claimed. Perhaps it was the alcohol speaking but he was really unhappy with how Luka was being treated "You're such a great catch, and I just wish you would finally find a boyfriend! If you ask me, you're totally boyfriend material! If I was gay, I'd date you in an instant!"

Luka had to laugh. "That's sweet, but don't be silly. If you were gay, I'm sure you would have a partner. And even if you wouldn't, you're a great guy, but I'm not sure you were my type."

"What's your type then?" Troy asked curiously. They had actually never spoken about that before.

"Well, perhaps it's part of why it's so difficult for me to find a man. I've got these very specific wishes about a guy I would like to date..." Luka began.

"Come on, tell me more." Troy pressed. "If I'm going to be a great wingman, I need to know."

Luka hesitated, but eventually, he began: "It's hard to explain, you know. But for me, there's nothing sexier than a man who is strong, muscular, confident and, well, a bit on the easy side."

"Easy as in stupid or easy as in easy to have?" Troy asked.

"Both, actually. I would love a boyfriend who is a lot dumber than I am - and pretty slutty, too. A real himbo if you catch my drift."

"Haha, yes, you're right. That's exactly me." Troy said. Actually, he wanted to say "That's *not* exactly me", but for some reason, it came out wrong entirely.

Before he could correct himself, though, he felt a strange tingling sensation all over his body. What the hell?

"I'm telling you, that's what I like." Luka explained further, completely oblivious to what was happening to Troy.

"Oh, really? That's good, I guess." Troy's voice sounded different, and it was getting harder and harder for him to concentrate. His body was changing, and so was his brain, but he couldn't understand what was going on.

"You know, you really helped me out a lot the last few months." Luka said. "I feel much better and happier after talking to you and..."

Luka's voice faded away as he looked at Troy. The man's face was changing, and he grew larger.

"Are... are you okay?"

Troy opened his eyes. "I don't know. I feel weird. Is it hot in here or is it just me?"

Luka took a step back. His roommate was growing, his arms and legs were getting thicker and bigger, and his chest was expanding. He was already filling out his clothes and the fabric was ripping. His shoulders became broader and the arms wider, and soon, Troy's glasses fell down as his face widened and his jaw became more prominent.

All the while his mind became foggier, and his knowledge and smarts quickly drained away. Why was he wearing a shirt that was clearly too small for him? Why was he wearing a shirt at all? Shirts were for wimps, and Troy was a man's man!

So, Troy wiggled out of his shirt before it became to constricting. Exposing his upper body was way better anyway - that way everyone could have a good look at his guns and his sculpted shaved chest.

While the now half naked man kept on transforming, his roommate was almost paralyzed.

"What... what is happening here?" Luka asked.

Troy laughed, his voice sounding deeper and rumbling. "I don't know, but this feels amazing. And it looks like you are enjoying the show, too!"

Luka looked down and noticed he was sporting a massive erection. He was completely transfixed by the display of masculinity his roommate was performing for him.

He didn't notice the pants Troy was wearing were ripped at the seams and quickly fell apart as his thighs were becoming bigger and bigger. However, when he looked back up again, he was looking eye level at a filled to the brim blue underwear. The dick hidden behind it must have been massive - and it was not even hard!

Luka gulped as he saw that the last part was slowly changing, and the strained blue fabric tented visibly, with a wet patch forming on it. He could only barely bring himself to stop staring at the hypnotizing bulge and up the masculine body of his roommate up to his face.

There was really nothing left of the old Troy. Here stood a confident and strong men - with a dumb smile on his face and eyes that didn't show too many signs of intelligence. A total himbo.

Troy grabbed his underwear and ripped it apart with a swift move. The now exposed and hardening cock was obscene, and Luka gasped when he saw it. He couldn't believe how big and thick the member was, and his own penis was throbbing in his pants.

"Here is what we're going to do, stud." Troy said seductively. "We're gonna fuck. All through the night. And then, I'm taking you out for breakfast, 'cause we're dating."

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thinktosee · 3 months

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The Swift Era

The greatest show on earth is upon us. Once upon a time, Buffalo Bill Cody (1846-1917), an American Wild West showman, put together a rag-tag troupe of performers and took them on the road, across the American and European continents. His was possibly the beginning of the era of entertainment as a transformative and global phenomenon. Later on, Hollywood was to adopt and also adapt Cody’s idea into film, which stupendously expanded audio- visual entertainment across the planet.

A couple of weeks ago, we were privileged to watch one of professional sports most brutal and yet, intriguing annual events – the American National Football League’s championship game in Las Vegas, pitting the San Francisco 49ers vs the Kansas City Chiefs. I was able to watch it “live” in Singapore only because it was the Lunar New Year Holiday and that being the case, the major television network allowed a one-time free access to all cable programmes, including sports. The KC Chiefs took the show, I mean, the championship through a delayed comeback, principally on the brains and hand of their stair quarterback, Patrick Mahomes. But hang on. While the media focus on this kid-wonder was understandably and deservedly overwhelming, there were a couple of folks too who were in the spotlight during the match – in attendance was the celebrity entertainer, singer and songwriter, Taylor Swift. She was adoringly cheering her boyfriend on the field, whose name currently escapes me (just kidding). But really, that was what it looked like. Travis Kelce of the Chiefs is no doubt a superb footballer, or perhaps as Prez Putin alluded to, handballer. But he is no match for his GF Swift in the popularity stakes, no matter what ex-Prez Trump said. Listen, music is the bread of life. And Taylor Swift seems to have it cornered. Sorry Beyonce.

I have not witnessed a music sensation as Taylor Swift, especially among the global masses, perhaps since the big bangs Beatles in the 1960s.. This is not to say that I am a fan. Admittedly, I cannot with any bit of honesty say that I am familiar with Swift’s music. My daughter, Sara and her BFF, Marie however are. The duo is presently attending Swift’s concert in Sydney, with self-made bangles and all. I am sure they will be electrifyingly entertained by the greatest show-woman on earth.

After Australia, Taylor will swiftly glide over to Singapore for a six-night exclusive engagement. Something which was grudgingly conceded by the Thai PM. That’s how amazingly popular this musical icon is. As news reports about Swift and her goings-on continue to overwhelm our digital space, one thing is for certain – millions of youth across the universe are crying out for more, more, more. Yes, Billy. This is the new Idol. And what do I like about this? Why, entertainment makes us happy, doesn’t it? The fact that Ms Swift has helped to light-up millions of lives is an amazing thing altogether.

Sports and entertainment, including music have always been fused, as my friend, Rick told me. Except that now Swift and Kelce have made it into a billion people or dollar business. Whatever the case may be, I admire Swift for her unique talent, stamina and grace. She is one of a kind. And she’s giving us a thrill of a lifetime.

My best wishes to Swift and Kelce.

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myrefersofficial · 1 year

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10 Inspiring Movies That Will Keep You Motivated And Focused On Your Goals

Sometimes we all need a little inspiration and motivation to help us stay focused on our goals. Whether trying to achieve a personal goal or working towards a professional one, watching movies can be an excellent way to stay motivated and focused on what you want to achieve.

Movies can evoke emotions, capture imaginations, and make us feel like we can conquer anything. This blog will explore 10 inspiring movies that will keep you motivated and focused on your goals. They tell powerful stories of perseverance, determination, and the human spirit.

They will leave you feeling inspired and ready to take on the world. Whether you need a boost of motivation or want to escape into a world of inspiration, these movies are a perfect choice. So, grab some popcorn, get comfortable, and get ready to be inspired.

#1 La La Land

Damien Chazelle is the author and director of the 2016 American romance musical comedy-drama film La La Land. In the movie, Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling play a struggling jazz musician and an aspiring actress, respectively. They meet and fall in love while pursuing their dreams in Los Angeles.

#2 A league of their Own

The 1992 American sports comedy-drama film A League of Their Own, helmed by Penny Marshall, provides a dramatized account of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League (AAGPBL).

A professional baseball club draughts Dottie, Kit, and several other women. However, when Jimmy, an alcoholic former celebrity, is made to oversee them, things take an unexpected turn.

#3 Gifted

2017’s Gifted is an American drama movie. Chris Evans, Mckenna Grace, Lindsay Duncan, Jenny Slate, and Octavia Spencer are among its cast members. The story centers on a seven-year-old with cerebral prowess, the target of a custody dispute between her maternal uncle and maternal grandmother.

Chris Evans plays Frank Adler, the sole parent of his niece Mary, a gifted youngster (Mckenna Grace). This moving film demonstrates that you can pursue your dreams despite whatever obstacles life tosses at you.

#4 Wonder

August Pullman, a young boy with facial differences who enrolls in a public primary school for the first time, is the inspirational subject of the book Wonder. After watching this film, you will be moved to tears and inspired to battle for those who are perceived as being different in society.

In a private school, in fifth grade, August makes friends with Jack. The two develop a powerful bond as they contend with the bullies in their class.

#5 Slumdog Millionaire

In memories, the origins of 18-year-old Jamal Malik (Dev Patel), who is participating in the Indian version of “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire,” are revealed.

After their mother passes away, Jamal and his sibling Salim become a part of a group of young thieves and live on Mumbai’s streets. Salim enjoys living a life of crime, but Jamal makes do with menial employment before appearing on a game show.

#6 3 Idiots

A highly motivational and inspirational movie tells the tale of three students with a special connection. The plot follows the three of them through their happy times and shows how they discover their life objectives. After going through many difficult times, they work extremely hard to accomplish them.

Along with success, the film is a fantastic stress reliever for people striving hard to achieve major things in life. “All is well” is the finest mantra to live by because it will cause everything to work out naturally.

Finding your passion in life and success will follow you are just two of the inspiring messages the film communicates. The key to maintaining happiness in life is to spend time with family and friends rather than chasing after scores, which are just numbers.

#7 The Karate Kid

In this tale, a martial arts master teaches karate to a victimized child in a supportive manner. “In life, there will be people who will try to suppress you, but what truly matters is how you rise against all the stones hurled at you to accomplish something exceptional,” the movie’s inspirational message reads.

#8 Million Dollar Baby

An inspiring tale for women to observe to lift their spirits and help them succeed in life. It is a remarkable tale of a determined woman who competes with a trainer to excel in her profession. The moral of the tale is that “if you have a strong enough will,” nothing can stop you.

#9 Rocky

The plot of the film Rocky centers on a fighter who battles mightily to win the match. Through this film, a powerful inspirational message of “nothing is impossible if you fight hard for it” is delivered. It also helps us realize that everyone has hidden abilities that, given the right circumstances, can be brought to light.

#10 The Pursuit Of Happyness

Based on the real-life events of Christopher Gardner. Gardner has significantly invested in a “bone density scanner,” which measures bone density. Selling these gadgets makes him feel successful. However, they cost much more and are only slightly better than X-rays, so they do not sell well.

Gardner loses his apartment, and his wife departs him as he struggles to make ends meet. Gardner, compelled to live on the streets with his son, keeps selling bone density scanners and is also pursuing an unpaid internship in stockbroking with little chance of progression. Before being paid, he must dominate the competition by preparing for six months and selling his inventions.

Final Words

In conclusion, movies can inspire, motivate, and help us focus on our goals. The 10 movies listed in this blog are just a few examples of films that can provide the necessary boost to keep us moving forward when we face challenges or setbacks.

Each movie has a unique story, message, and perspective, but they all share a common thread of resilience, perseverance, and determination. Whether you’re an athlete, entrepreneur, student, or simply someone looking to improve your life, these movies offer valuable lessons and insights into what it takes to achieve success.

They remind us that success is not always easy, but it’s possible if we stay focused on our goals, work hard, and never give up. So, the next time you’re feeling unmotivated or stuck, consider watching one of these inspiring movies to get back on track. Who knows, it might just be your motivation to achieve your dreams and goals.

Also Read :–

1. Top 10 Web Series On Netflix To Watch In 2023

2. Top 10 Mind-Boggling Hollywood Movies for Your Cinema ListVisit Us, https://myrefers.com

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pick-em-pool · 1 year

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WEEK 11

🦃 Happy thanksgiving everyone 🦃 As another football-filled week draws to a close, I'd like us to take a break ⛱ from trying to backstab our way to the $300 💲 and think about what really matters here. That's right, I want to spend this week talking about the things I truly care about: Stuffing and gravy what I'm thankful for 🤩

GABBY - 12 POINTS

Ehhh I've got nothing 🤷‍♂️ JUST KIDDING EVERYONE 😅 there are many things I thank the lord baby Jesus Christ in a manger for in Gabby: recently I am thankful for Gabby's absolutely bodacious body unfailing ability to plan everything for us. If it wasn't for her, I probably would have missed 301 appointments, 183 doctor visits, 29 dinners, 7 vacations and 3 bathroom breaks 🛌

PEYTON - 11 POINTS

I am endlessly thankful for Peyton's phat badonkadonk ability to deal with inebriated short people 🤨 For some reason, all our little Napoleon-sized friends feel the need to challenge 🥂 the Lewistown Legend to a drink-off. They probably are feeling insecure that they are eye-level with his belly button and hope to reclaim their honor 🤺 Thank you Peyton for taking those shots so we don't have to! 🥃

VAL - 11 POINTS

How can I pick just one! 🤔 Val has introduced so many things into our lives!

Mio Margaritas

Bottomless Brunch

Sorentino's Pizza

Appendicitis

Country Music

The New York Jets

The list goes on! And after a stellar 11 point week, she's got a lot to be thankful for as well! 🙏 hopefully she can do a prison-break and escape the bottom tier of the rankings. Remember, she's not a prisoner, she's an incarcerated person - a freedom challenged - a jumpsuit enthusiast

JJ - 11 POINTS

Where would I be without the pickleball champion?!? 🥒 If it wasn't for Jean "The Titanium Knee" Jacques Daigneault I would never have been introduced to the best almost-sport of the 21st century! And who WOULDN'T be thankful if they got to cop a ride in that slick Mercedes 🚗🚗🚗 Although, I have to say that nowadays JJ looks like he should be trading in the sports car for a sleigh and 9 reindeer 🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌--🛷 P.S. I want a pony for Christmas 🙏

LISA - 10

Of course you gotta be thankful for Big Mamma 👱‍♀️ She has single handedly saved me $420,069 in medical bills ever since I moved out of the house 😷💉💉💊 I think I've gotten a little TOO reliant on Lisa's medical advice. Last week I'm pretty sure I called her to see if it was safe to eat asparagus 😑 can never be too careful! Also, a major shout out to all the real ones out their who KNOW their kids are mooching off their Verizon plan and letting it happen. YOU THE REAL MVPS

JANIE - 10

Though she is only in 4th place for the Pick-Em pool, she leads the league in French onion soups made, without a doubt the most important stat out there. I think we all know who the real GOAT is. I'm holding out hope I'm still invited back to Scottsdale, but after all of the pictures I photoshopped her face into, I might be sharing the doghouse with Rocky 🐕🐩🐕‍🦺

ABBY - 9 POINTS

Who isn't thankful for their sisters?! (actually Gabby and Val probably fit that description when they were aged 11-15 👭) I thought having a sister would help me know what's going on in a woman's mind 💯💯💯. As it turns out, I could not have picked a worse candidate for study. To date, I have not met any woman who exclusively wears XXXXXLL sweaters, keeps 3 week old orange fruits in her nightstand, and prefers to have her dates at Buffalo Wild Wings. Buffalo. Wild. Wings. 🤷‍♂️ When I took Gabby to Buffalo Wild Wings for our second anniversary, we almost didn't have a third 😬

RUSTY - 9 POINTS

How could you not be thankful for papa Ziegler! The baron of bourbon is the most 'get 'er done' person since Larry the Cable Guy 👷‍♀️👷‍♂️ My man does enough work for 7 people and still has plenty of energy to demolish us in beer pong 🍻 Even the addition of Enzo wasn't enough to slow him down 💪 after the "Family Dog" turned into the "Parent's Dog"

JULIETTE - 6 POINTS

So much to be thankful for, always grateful for the Arizona Adele 🎙 You know what, because we are in a giving mood this week - I'm going to give Juliette TWO bonus points even though she was FOUR days late 🤨 It's because your commish is just THAT generous (and because Juliette scored 4 points even though she had the chance to cheat 😂) Top 3 most honest people in American history:

George Washington

Juliette*

Andy Dufresne from Shawshank Redemption

*may or may not be a syrup-loving CANADIAN

Anyways, THANKFUL for all of you lovely pick-em-pool players, and grateful to be your Commissioner! 🍂🍁🍂🍁 Until next week everyone!

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berthelsen95helbo · 2 years

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seokstrivia · 4 years

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Strawberry Milk | knj

Summary: At a young age Namjoon was taught not to cry over spilt milk, but he wasn’t taught how to speak to girls.

Bet!AU | word-count: 4.4k

Kim Namjoon x Reader: fluff, pining, slowish burn, mutual feelings, clumsy namjoon, soft reader, photography student namjoon, painter reader, cute settings and again, fluff

A/N this was my first request on this blog and I got excited and began writing ,,, haha !!! I hope it’s enjoyable reading as much it was writing ! have a nice night/day and stay safe !! ´･ᴗ･`

“You’ve had a crush on her for how long?”

The playful tone in Jin’s voice seemed to irk Namjoon, it made him want to throw his cupcake at the boy—but he also wanted to eat his cupcake, so he groaned instead.

It wasn’t his fault you were out of his league.

“Have you ever spoke to her?” Jin added with a smug face.

Namjoon rolled his eyes while fidgeting with the straw that came with his strawberry milk. Of course, he’d spoken to you before, exactly fifty-four times... in his dreams.

Okay, so maybe he hadn’t spoken to you in person, but dreams counted too, right? Ugh, it didn’t even matter, dream realm you was as close as he was going to get.

“Dude, look,” Jin chirped up again and Namjoon wanted to so badly shove his dessert into his friend's mouth. “Jungkook is speaking to her.”

Jin’s words were quick to make him turn around to see if he was telling the truth, and unfortunately, he was. Jungkook was so lucky, he was a freshman, he was good at sports and singing and dancing and drawing.

It made him envy the younger boy.

“Everything comes so easily to him.”

That was the first time Namjoon had said anything since he sat down at the table for lunch.

Even though his eyebrows were furrowed and lips puckered, he couldn’t bring himself to hate the younger male.

Jungkook was a sweetheart and he had a special place in Namjoon’s heart.

“You should use this as your chance to speak to y/n,” Jin spoke out with a mouthful of noodles. “He’d make a great wingman.”

Instead of responding to the wide-shouldered man, Namjoon stared at him and his puffed out cheeks in disgust.

He’d lost count at the number of times he’d told the older male not to chew with his mouth full. Jin didn’t listen, nor care.

Food was food, and it was delicious.

“Hey, Namjoon!” Chirped a cheerful voice behind him. “You know y/n, right?”

Namjoon choked on his strawberry milk at the sound of your name, he hastily grabbed a few napkins from his tray before turning around only to be greeted with a bunny smile and you.

You and your beautiful smile.

He felt his heart start beating fast, drumming his ears—getting louder and louder. It was beginning to get hard to breathe, he’d never been so close to you before.

Namjoon thought he was going to spontaneously combust.

“Hi, Namjoon,” you chuckled at the awe-struck expression on his face. “We have scie—“

“Science lab together,” interrupted the male—who now had pink milk drooling down his chin. “I didn’t think you knew who I was.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion before you noticed the mess on his chin. There was no hesitation in your movements as you took a napkin from his hand and wiped the remaining milk.

Namjoon’s cheeks were on fire.

“How could I not know who you are?” You asked in a playful tone. “You’re one of the smartest kids at this college.”

Jungkook was now sniggering at the shock on his friends face, he’d been meaning to introduce you to Namjoon, he just hadn’t had the chance to.

Until now that is.

“Excuse my clumsy friend,” Jin commented with a shake of his head. “He’s not slept for a solid three days.”

Another laugh parted your lips, and it was music to Namjoon’s ears.

“It’s okay,” you told them, a soft smile spread across your rosy lips. “I just wanted to introduce myself to Namjoon before asking him about being lab partners.”

Honestly, Namjoon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. There was no way you wanted to be his partner, the guy who can’t even swallow strawberry milk properly.

Maybe he was dreaming.

However, that question was answered when he heard Yoongi call your name. Asking you to come back to the table to finish your lunch, Yoongi was another male he envied.

“I should go and stop stealing your free time,” you said, clasping your hands behind your back. “It was nice meeting you formally, Namjoon. I’ll see you later.”

You thanked Jungkook for introducing the two of you before leaving to go back to your table. There was a happy smile on your face and a skip in your step and Namjoon swore he died and went to heaven that day.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

“Will you help me with my maths assignment later?”

Taehyung. Kim Taehyung, your favourite cousin and best friend, was always asking you for help—even in subjects you didn’t take, for example, maths.

“Tae, you know I can’t help you,” the tone in your voice was sweet as always, but there was a hint of strictness. “I haven’t done maths since high school.”

A long and agitated groan parted Taehyung’s lips, he was close to crying—frustrated that he couldn’t understand a single thing he was being taught.

His mum, your aunt, told him that he wouldn’t be allowed to hang out with his friends if he failed another test. She was going to take away his freedom and you weren’t helping him from preventing that.

It broke his heart.

“Can you at least look at the problems?” He begged, eyes dewy and sad. “You do science! That’s got to involve some kind of mathematics.”

A chuckle left your throat when you noticed his quivering lip, it made you feel sorry for him. However, you weren’t saying no to be mean, you genuinely couldn’t help him.

“Honey, I’ve told you a million times that it’s just an extra class to make up for being an art major,” you reminded him while moving his fridge away from his eyes. “We make presentations about dirt, it’s nothing too challenging.”

Taehyung knew that he’d heard it a million times and still didn’t listen. To be honest, you were the only one he could ask for help—besides his lecturer, but she scared him.

A sigh parted his lips as he set his head on the wooden table, “I’m going to fail... Again.”

You shook your head at his whiny tone before continuing with your painting. The flowers in the vase were beginning to droop, it made you wish you’d taken a photograph of the still life beforehand.

Photograph...? Photography!

“Kim Namjoon,” you squealed making Taehyung jump in his seat next to you. “Namjoon, can help you!”

“Isn’t he a photography major?”

A lighthearted laugh escaped your lungs in excitement, proud that you’d thought of him all on your own.

“He’s the smartest person I know,” you gushed, cheeks turning red as you spoke about him. “Jungkook introduced me to him at lunch today. He’s such a lovely boy.”

Taehyung wasn’t sure if you were doing this for him, or yourself. Either way, he thought it was adorable that you had a crush on the biggest geek in school.

The geek and the painter. He smiled.

“Do you think he’ll help me?”

You hastily nodded your head in absolute certainty that Kim Namjoon would be able to help Kim Taehyung.

More so, the thought of being able to see him more often—instead of once a week, made your heart melt like butter.

Taehyung’s deep chuckle reverberated through the empty studio, drawing you out of your dream-like state.

“I’ll ask him for you in science lab tomorrow,” you smiled, mood suddenly growing more positive.

The flowers in the vase also suddenly looked more lively than before. Taehyung reclined his head on his hand and watched you begin to paint again, this time with rosy cheeks and a light heart.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

It was raining when you left your apartment, umbrella hoisted up, you tried your best to keep your art folder dry. However, it was a bit difficult when it was half the size of you.

Luckily, the campus was only a ten-minute walk away.

“Do you need a hand?”

You were startled by the sudden voice behind you, but when you turned to see who it was, your beating heart began slowing down and a smile crept over your lips instead.

Kim Namjoon, tall and as handsome as ever, was walking behind you with a broken umbrella. It made you laugh to yourself, yet it was so like him that it didn’t even surprise you.

The male was known for breaking his things.

“I would love some help,” you gushed, cold cheeks suddenly heating up with the proximity. “Thank you.”

Namjoon smiled in return, displaying his dimples for everyone to see, “don’t even worry about it.”

It made you smile, that you, out of everyone on campus, got to walk alongside Kim Namjoon. He was even better looking up close—not that you were staring or anything, that would be weird.

The broken umbrella, that he gripped so tightly onto, caught your eye once more and it made you curious.

“How did you break your umbrella?”

Namjoon visibly jumped at the sudden sound of your voice, he was kind of hoping you wouldn’t speak to him. Especially since his mind didn’t function normally around you.

It was embarrassing.

“Well... I pushed it open too hard and the top part just flew off,” he laughed in shame, eyes watching for puddles on the ground. “I decided to duck tape it back on. No point in a new one when it works perfectly fine.”

A soft chuckle parted your lips, Namjoon had a nice voice and it made you realise that you could listen to him talk for hours and hours.

“Hey, Namjoon?” You quirked back up, umbrella hitting against his every so often. “Can I ask you for a favour?”

It was silent for a few seconds, the rain became louder and the cars faster as the two of you focused back on the path ahead.

Namjoon took a deep breath.

“Of course, you can.”

To be honest, you didn’t think he would say yes, so his response caught you off guard. But only for a split second as you reminded yourself that you were helping Taehyung.

“My cousin, Kim Taehyung,” you began explaining, soft tone harmonising with the rain. “Is bad at maths and I was wondering if you could tutor him?”

Namjoon’s heart began racing once again, the thought of you thinking about him to help your cousin caused his insides to melt. It made him so happy he thought he was going to burst into a million, tiny pieces.

You peeked up at him from the corner of your eye and felt your cheeks grow hotter when you saw the huge grin across his lips.

“Yeah,” he squeaked, quickly clearing his throat to speak again. “Ye—Yeah, of course, I’ll help.”

A huge smile spread across your lips at his response, you would’ve hugged him there and then, but decided not to. Too afraid it would make him feel uncomfortable, so you thanked him over a hundred times instead.

Namjoon’s cheeks only grew redder.

“Thank you again, Namjoon,” you chirped, eyes disappearing into a breathtaking smile.

“I told you to stop thanking me.”

His voice was small and shy as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, eyes staring at the, now very wet, untied laces on his trainers.

“I know, but this time I was thanking you for walking me to my studio.”

Namjoon’s eyes snapped back up, he didn’t notice time had passed so quickly. It made him a little sad that he had to say goodbye and go to his studio, but really, he was over the moon that he got to spend time with you.

He handed you your folder with another smile before you bid him goodbye, reminding him that you would see each other later in the science lab.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

“You walked her to her studio?”

Jin was in shock, he never once thought Namjoon would grow a pair and spend time with you. He was even more shocked that you had asked him, of all people, to help your cousin.

Some would say he was in disbelief.

“C’mon,” Namjoon whined like a child being deprived candy. “Shouldn’t you be happy for me?”

The broad-shouldered man realised that maybe he was overreacting, he just didn’t think Namjoon had the guts to approach you. This, however, put an idea in his head take his new friendship with you a little further.

“I bet you can’t ask her out on a date,” Jin smirked.

Namjoon scoffed at his friends, offended that he thought he couldn’t do such a thing. His newfound confidence had gone to his head, but that didn’t stop him from arguing with his best friend.

“I bet I can.”

That was when Jungkook joined the table, he was confused to why Namjoon and Jin were having such an intense staring competition.

Luckily, before he could ask, Hoseok piped up, “Namjoon finally spoke to y/n today,” he bit into his cold and soggy chip. “Jin bet he can’t ask her on a date.”

Jungkook slowly nodded his head, eyes moving from Hobi’s cheery smile to Namjoon’s flaring nostrils. This wasn’t going to end well.

“Just ask her out without a bet Namjoon.”

The youngest male’s voice broke the intense competition, now with water eyes, Namjoon stared at the younger one in confusion.

“What’s wrong with a bet?” He asked, piercing his strawberry milk carton with his straw. “If anything, I think it would help me ask her.”

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders and remained quiet. You were a nice girl, not overly popular, but friends with everyone— he just didn’t want you to get hurt by Namjoon’s stupid bet.

“What do you get if you ask her and win the bet?” Hoseok asked, completely disregarding what the younger male had said.

“He gets the girl,” Jin answered. “If he loses, I get 20$.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, the bet was nothing but a stepping stone— a challenge even, so he didn’t know why Jungkook was acting the way he was.

He would never do anything to hurt you.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Science lab was as boring as usual, a yawn escaped your lips as you began to pack your things away. Thankfully, it was the end of a long day, so you could finally go home and relax.

Namjoon, on the other hand, was standing awkwardly at the door, mind contemplating what to say and how not to utterly embarrass himself.

That didn’t go too well when you approached him.

“Namjoon, are you okay?”

The smile on your face was kind and endearing and he felt his heart get stuck in his throat. All be could manage out was an incoherent noise while nodding his head and turning a deep shade of red.

It made you laugh.

“Would you like to walk together?” You asked, hand clutching the bag on your shoulder while the other held your umbrella. “There’s a small cafe we can stop before going home.”

Were you asking him on a date? Had you beat him to it? This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Namjoon sighed and the smile on your face fell when he hadn’t said anything.

“We don’t have to—“

Namjoon quickly shouted no to stop you from finishing that sentence, that only made you confused, more so, you had no idea why he was acting like this when he was fine this morning.

“I would love to go to the cafe with you,” he muttered shyly, hand rubbing the back of his neck while he stared at his trainers. “I just... I had kind of planned to ask you first.”

His words caused a smile to appear on your lips while your cheeks added a blush of their own.

“It’s okay,” you assured. “You can ask first next time.”

Namjoon gasped making you laugh, there was going to be a next time? Did you want to spend more time with him? He was so shocked that he didn’t even notice you started walking.

Of course, it didn’t take him long to catch up.

Unfortunately, it was still raining. It had been raining all day, but you didn’t mind, in fact, you always found the rain soothing and quite enjoyed the dreary weather.

“Hey, what happened to your umbrella?”

Namjoon stared at you in confusion before realising you were talking to him, “I broke it again. It’s the bin.”

You noticed how embarrassed he was, but you tonight it was cute, “it’s okay, we can share mine.”

The male was hesitant at first, he didn’t think he could handle his beating heart with you so close to him. With the scent of your perfume filling his senses and thoughts of you taking over his mind, he thought he would pass out.

Still, there was no hesitation in your actions as you handed him the umbrella and coiled your arm through his to keep him close.

“Shall we?” You smiled taking his breath away.

Namjoon simply nodded his head before leading the way like the gentleman that he was.

The walk was nice, it was peaceful, the roads weren’t too busy and the rain went perfectly with the whole romantic anime love scene he pictured over a hundred times.

But, let’s be honest, Namjoon watches too many anime romance comedies for his good. There was no way you would share a kiss in the rain or work in a maid café and then force him to keep your secret.

Although, that would be pretty cool.

“That’s the cafe!” You beamed when you spotted the small corner-shop building. “It’s my favourite place to go to.”

Namjoon smiled as he followed you inside, he was careful to close the umbrella and place it in the stand next to the door.

The cafe was small but cosy and comfortable, there was a strong scent of ground coffee mixed with caramel syrup and it smelt delicious.

Looking at the menu Namjoon noticed the variations on milkshakes they had, the strawberry sticking out, in particular, made him feel quite excited.

“What are you getting?” You asked.

Namjoon pointed at the menu, “strawberry milkshake.”

To be honest, you thought he would choose a coffee, but you thought it was utterly adorable that he decided to go for a milkshake.

“I think I’ll get the same—“

“No,” Namjoon interrupted. “Let me. My treat.”

You blushed at the sweet yet subtle endearment before shyly letting him know that you were going to find a table to sit at.

When Namjoon joined you, he had two tall glasses of pink milk topped with whipped cream, sprinkles and a cherry. It looked delicious.

“Thank you,” you smiled sweetly, before taking a sip and letting it melt down your throat. “It’s really good.”

When you glanced back up at the male across from you, you couldn’t help but laugh. Somehow he’d gotten whipped cream on his nose, he was so clumsy.

“Here,” you said as you handed him a napkin. “For your nose.”

Namjoon hastily reached for the tissue before cleaning his nose, very embarrassed that he’d made a mess of himself in front of you again.

Although, you didn’t seem to mind.

The rest of the time in the cafe was spent talking about interests, as well as, what Taehyung needed help with.

You learnt that Namjoon was a really good listener, you learnt that he had so much to say and so much going through his mind, you learnt that he wanted to know every little thing about the world that he could, but your favourite thing that you learnt about him was that, Kim Namjoon, loved crabs.

It was one of the nicest afternoons you’d had in a while, and it made you hope that there would be more to come as your feelings for the dimpled male-only grew.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

“So, you’ve already been on a date?”

Jungkook was surprised at how quickly everything was falling in place for you two.

“I don’t think it was a date,” Jin added truthfully. “I think it was more like two friends hanging out.”

Namjoon glared at the older male before sighing in defeat, he wasn’t wrong. Neither of you established what yesterday was, so it could have been anything.

It did make him wonder what you thought it was, maybe it was just a, ‘getting to know you,’ kind of thing. Other than that, he probably should have asked for your number so he could ask you out on a real date.

“This isn’t going as well as I thought it was.”

Jungkook chuckled at his older friends puckered lips and dewy eyes, “it’s going better than we all thought it would though.”

Jin agreed, mouth once again full of food, “yeah, it’s going well between you two.”

Namjoon seemed to lighten up by this statement, it was going well now that he thought about it. You’d even smiled and waved at him this morning while talking to your friends.

“I think he’s falling in love.”

Namjoon turned around to an unfamiliar voice, behind him there was a young male with long black hair, accompanied by another male with blonde hair.

“Kim Namjoon?” He asked with a boxy smile. “I’m Kim Taehyung, my cousin told me that you would help me with maths.”

Namjoon slowly nodded his head, “that’s right.”

Jungkook seemed to pipe up at the sight of the two boys standing behind Namjoon, he knew them from football and thought they were hilarious.

“Hey, Jimin!” He yelled seeing the short male standing quietly behind Taehyung. “Come sit.”

Jimin did as he was asked while Tae continued to speak to Namjoon.

“I’m free this evening and tomorrow,” he said, letting the boy with the box-like smile know when he would be able to help him. “If you give me your number we can arrange a time?”

Taehyung sighed in agitation, “my mum took my phone, said I can’t have it back until I pass my class,” he explained. “But I can give you y/ns.”

Namjoon slowly nodding his head, he would be able to get your number which meant he could ask you on a date, but also meant that he could text you every day and night.

“Don’t worry,” the young boy added before leaving the older male with your number. “I won’t tell her you’re in love with her.”

Namjoon felt his insides explode.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

It was another day in the studio, however, this time you had Yoongi as company. Taehyung said he was busy with tutoring after making plans with Namjoon—over your phone.

“So, when the two of you went to the cafe,” Yoongi piped up out of nowhere. “Was it a date, date or just a date.”

A light chuckle parted your lips before turning to stare at your bored friend, “it wasn’t anything like that.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue.

“We’re just friends,” you added.

But the male sitting on the tattered old couch didn’t seem too pleased with your answer. He’d spent days on end listening to you talk about this guy, and how you feel about him—it was ridiculous.

Yoongi groaned in frustration.

“Why not just confess how you feel?”

His remark made you drop your paintbrush, splattering little bits of green pigment across the already messy floor.

“I can’t do that,” you told him before picking up your brush and swirling it in water. “I don’t want to scare him away.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at your words before slowly getting off the couch. He wasn’t happy with you, you never stepped out of your comfort zone for anything and then complained about being bored.

“Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

You shook your head, trying to ignore what he was saying.

“Okay, listen,” he sighed, hands crossed over his chest. “If you tell him how you feel, I’ll buy you lunch until summer break.”

“Is that a bet, Yoongi?”

He nodded his head, “if you don’t, you can never talk about Namjoon to me ever again.”

You scoffed in offence before throwing the paintbrush towards him, “you’re on!”

A chuck parted Yoongi’s lips and he moved to sit back down.

“Hurry up and finish your painting, I want to go home.”

You rolled your eyes.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Spring was shortly coming to an end, Taehyung’s studies seem to be getting better and your conversations with Namjoon only grew longer.

It was going well so far, although, the bet you made with Yoongi lingered in the back of your mind. Should you tell Namjoon how you feel? Or should you just keep what you have now?

On the other hand, Namjoon was trying to figure out how to ask you on a date without stumbling over his words or sounding extremely desperate.

A sigh parted his lips and your ears perked up.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

The two of you were sitting under a cherry blossom tree at the park, not too far from campus, sitting on a blanket and having lunch.

It was Namjoon’s idea. He even bought strawberry milk.

“I’m fine,” he lied, bottom lip red from being chewed on from being nervous. “I—There's something I wanted to ask you.”

Out of curiosity you put your sandwich down and gave him all your attention.

Namjoon gulped.

“Wouh—Would you maybe like to go on a date?” He asked, cheeks turning as pink as the blossoms. “With me?”

A small chuckle parted your lips, “I would love to go on a date with you.”

The male let out a sigh of relief making your smile grow even more. He was so cute and it made your heart race that he gave you so much time and didn’t hesitate to help you.

Maybe Yoongi’s bet wasn’t a bad thing.

“I have something to tell you.”

Now it was Namjoon’s turn to perk up, his eyes widened in curiosity as he sipped on his strawberry milk.

“I like you, Kim Namjoon,” your voice was soft and soothing like honey drizzled in a hot cup of tea. “A lot.”

Namjoon let out a shy giggle, rubbing the back of his neck out of habit, he avoided all eye contact. At this point, his cheeks were darker than the cherry blossoms—they were as red as the cherries you brought along.

It made you giggle.

“I like you too.”

That was enough to have you smiling for the rest of your life. But then again, Namjoon was a good enough reason on its own.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

“You placed a bet too?” You asked with wide eyes.

Namjoon nodded his head in shame, not hearing the word, “too,” after your question, until he replied it in his head.

“Wait! What do you mean ‘too’?!”

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

314 notes · View notes

pupvivi · 3 years

Text

2jin in college, that's definitely the move I think. They met in the mandatory Freshman classes and honestly just barely missed being roommates by a few encounters.

Heejin is pretty popular due to her looks alone, and gets decent grades. She's your typical undeclared major didn't. Hyunjin plays sports for fun, but her heart and soul is in music.

They have a similar group of friends and end up hanging out a lot because of it, their Unnies usually embarrass them to the point where they need to escape the situation.

Hyunjin has a pretty bad crush on Heejin, but it very certain that either A) Heejin is straight or B) She's completely out of her league.

Heejin hasn't really shown any interest in anyone, not even in high school. So she just thinks she's not worth the effort.

#2jin #y'all are gonna laugh at what i have in mind

12 notes · View notes

tenglows · 4 years

Note

22 & 24 fluff with mark? 🥺 like can u make him y/n’s junior that she crushes on but mark thinks she’s out of his league thing JEJDJJSJSJSJ ILY I LOVE UR WRITINGS SO MUCHHHH 💖😭😭😭😭😭

[ 22: i haven't heard from them ] + [ 24: i'm not waiting for a reply back, though ] this is such a cute dynamic i live for this 🥺 thank you so much bub !!!!

the prompts

“dude, you have to tell her” jeno complained, nudging mark's head, who was sending heart eyes your way.

“and risk becoming the seniors' punching and mocking bag? no thank you, i'll pass”

jeno groaned and tossed a fry to his friend's face. the thing is, mark has been hopelessly in love with you for the majority of his high school years. his friends had always asked why he never tried to talk to you, but the answer was easy for him. you were older. you would never think of him that way, probably not even acknowledge his existence in the first place. which, he ended up being wrong about.

that year, with you being a senior and him a junior, you guys became friends after ending up on the same team at the school's sports competitions. he was a complete stuttering and sweating mess the whole time, but when you approached him with a water bottle after he ran a race, he could feel himself falling more and more for you.

what's more, you had never mentioned the age difference between you two. and he was really relieved about that. those antics were really important for the other students, and he knew he got a few dirty looks whenever he walked with you through the halls, but you never found that a problem. even though he was thankful for it, having a chance with you was a total different thing. that was straight up impossible.

“hey baby” mark's body froze at your voice and you ruffling his hair. oh yeah, you never pointed out your age difference explicitly but you did like to coddle the boy. jeno called it flirting, mark called it you simply enjoying to be older.

“as you know, my birthday is coming in a few days. i'll have some friends over at my house, nothing big, and i was hoping you guys could come” you grinned and stared at them expectantly.

“sure! count me in” jeno replied with a big smile, you clapping and turning towards mark.

“i don't know, y/n. will the rest of the seniors be okay with us there?” he asked, skeptical and running a hand through his arm. jeno rolled his eyes.

“when did i ever care about what they thought?”

“never but-”

“no buts” you cut him off. “it's my birthday and i want you there, end of discussion. if someone has something against it, i'll fight them” you crossed your arms over your chest and upped your chin.

“you're too cute to fight someone”

“yeah well, you're too cute not to fight for” you stood up and went back to your friends, leaving mark with rosy cheeks and heart in a whirlwind.

“dude” jeno said in an obvious tone, glaring at his friend.

“what?” mark replied lowly, and jeno sighed before smacking the other’s head once again.

mark took deep breaths waiting to gain the courage to knock on your door.

“oh for fucks sake” jeno protested, as he found himself doing a lot around mark these days, and knocked. mark jumped and glared at him, because he 'wasn't ready'.

“guys!!! hello” you shouted out excitedly and hugged both of the boys.

mark felt all the so mentioned courage fall to his knees when he caught sight of you. you were wearing a squared lime green dress, and matching eye shadow. you looked so beautiful and so, carefree as you always did. that's one of the things mark loved most about you. the world didn't took place in your life. you happened to the world. if that made any sense.

“happy birthday” jeno uttered cheerfully and entered the house. mark had yet to escape his daze.

“happy birthday, y/n. you deserve to have the best one ever” you pouted and wrapped your arms around the boy. “you look amazing”

“thank you mark, it really means a lot that you're here with me”

after that, you two went inside. mark gave you the gift he had gotten you -with shaky hands and legs- and you squealed when you saw the newest vinyl record of your favorite band. jeno winked from across the room when he saw you hug mark tightly, not letting go that quickly.

the sun was setting now and mark was sitting in the backyard, getting lost imagining what the people around him conversed about. being with the older students had gotten him really insecure, but all those nerves dissolved when your friends amiable greeted him. jeno had even gotten along with one of them, talking contentedly by the pool at the moment.

“having fun?” mark was distracted by you sitting beside him.

“a lot, what about you?”

“i really am” you nodded and smiled, all your tooth showing. mark felt his heart smile in unison, realizing how much he liked happiness on you.

silence fell upon you two and you laid your head on the boy’s shoulder. him tensing up automatically, his body erratic at having you so close to him.

“um, don’t you want to go back to your friends?”

“i haven’t heard from them” you paused. “why do you always assume i don’t wanna spend time with you?”

“i-”

“is it because of you being younger? i still like you, mark” you raised your head to look him in the eye. he got lost in your gaze, as usual, but now, he felt as if he had been put under a spell. your eyes being the magician.

“i like you too. i really, really like you” he started talking and he knew, he felt he would not be able to stop. as if he had no control at all. “you have no idea how much i like you, y/n. not in the friends way, i, like you. i’m pretty convinced i am in love with you, i have been for years. i never told you because i thought you would find me pathetic. but then you talked to me, and you still do. but know i'm not waiting for a reply back, though. i still won’t expect that you feel the same”

“mark”

“i just think it was time that i told you. i like you so much and you’re so pretty and soft and”

“mark” you repeated, a bit louder this time. his mouth shutting quickly. you grabbed his face and he observed your hands on his face, shock spreading through his face. “am i allowed to kiss you now?”

mark’s pulse was no longer a whirlwind, it was far from that. the whirlwind broke, it cracked open. his heart was now an opera orchestra, with the instruments pounding in such a thunderous manner it threatened to split his ears. he managed to react on top of the music nonetheless, nodding his head.

your lips felt soft against his. and the magician appeared again, hypnotizing him enough to be absorbed by your magic, the power you had over the world.

still with the hold on his cheek, you planted one last peck on the boy’s lips before separating your mouths. mark loved how your face blushed, and he assumed that if you were like that he must have been burning.

“you were right” you rested on mark’s shoulder again, happiness blooming in your chest. “this is the best birthday ever”.

#mark lee au #mark lee scenario #mark lee fluff #mark lee #nct au #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct mark #superm mark #mark

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coeurdastronaute · 5 years

Text

Either/Or: WWC

“Jess?”

“Yes, Ms. Luthor?”

Squinting behind her glasses, the CEO peered at her schedule on her computer screen and furrowed as she read, but failed to comprehend the words under the seven o’clock time slot that seemed to take up majority of her evening. There should have been nothing there. She carefully kept track of every second, trusted her secretary to do the same, and suddenly, she had to be somewhere on a night when she could have been home.

Leaning back in her chair, Lena Luthor scrolled and clicked on the offending task highlighted in a deep forest green. National City FC.

National City Fire Council?

National City Financial Committee?

National City Freedom Conference?

“What the hell is National City FC, and why is it taking up 3 hours of my evening?”

“The team you had us buy a few months ago. It’s their home opener.” the secretary explained, filing a few things in the drawer in the closet in Lena’s office.

She didn’t bat an eye at such questions. It was her job to know those things, to take care of things, like when her boss came in with a circled article from her ride into the office, and told Jess to fix it. This somehow included a struggling council measure to bring another sports team to the city and help the underfunded women’s program develop.

There were no follow up questions to how it got done, as Lena was immediately onto the next thing, but for Jess, there were hours spent meeting with officials and the in-house entertainment division to see how accumulating a women’s soccer team would diversify their holdings. This meant weeks pouring over spreadsheets and crunching numbers until the small team that was created for just this singular task, that again, came from a circled three inches of newspaper print, developed a plan to make it a success.

“What did I do?” Lena asked, looking up from her computer as her assistant continued her work of pulling and rearranging to prepare for end of month reports.

“You gave me an article about how the city wanted a team but couldn’t drum up the money to commit, and they were going to lose the bid for an expansion team.”

“That sounds somewhat familiar.”

“You said that expansion and bringing professionals into the city was how we continued to grow.”

“I’m sure I did.”

Quickly, Lena googled the team and found a few headlines praising the companies initiative to help grown equality within the sport, to bring jobs and joy to the community, to expand programs for children and sports, to bring a championship to the city. It was all news to her but still made her smile.

“I put together a team who did everything from polling to scouting locations to permits and projections,” Jess explained as Lena scrolled. “You helped pick out the colors and design the logo.”

“I did?”

“No,” she chuckled. “I did all of that. It’s been my pet project. I played in college, you know.”

The webpage was green, deep and royal. A white logo with the crest of the city and an outline of a roaring bear over it sat in the corner. The banner had the team picture with rows of tough and smiling girls looking back. A schedule followed and links to tickets. It was an actual thing.

“You did all of this?”

“I delegated,” Jess explained, handing over a folder. “Take a look at this so you have your talking points.”

“This got past the board?”

“A bit of community outreach, your name on the field, the logo on the jerseys, community services, tax breaks, and city-wide gratitude. It went a long way, and was a sound investment, set to see returns as early as six years.”

“Are you sure you don’t want that promotion?”

“I’ll just take another raise,” the secretary smiled as her boss looked over the papers in the folder.

“This still doesn’t explain why it’s on my schedule though,” Lena decided, closing it and laying it back on her desk.

“It’s the inaugural game. You have to go show your support.”

“I don’t like sports,” she reminded her. “That’s why I created an entire division of this company to manage such things.”

“You wanted more photo ops, and I’m creating that moment for you.”

Jess was right, which was something Lena still wasn’t particularly fond of admitting. Ever since her brother’s implosion and her ascendence to help the company two years ago, it felt as if her full-time job wasn’t being a CEO but rather a figure head looking to make people believe that she was just as strong, just as capable, just as, if not moreso, credible as the leader of a multi-billion dollar organization.

Lena looked back at the file on her desk and sighed, invariably giving in.

“Fine, but I’m not going to wear a jer--”

Smiling, Jess held up her personal jersey with DANVERS printed in big white letters over the number eleven. She wiggled her eyebrows and tried to hide her amusement.

“It’s to support the team.”

“That’s not even my name.”

“You don’t play for them, just own the team. You don’t get your own name on it.”

“I couldn’t get a custom one? I don’t even know who that is.”

“This is your star player, Kara Danvers. Got her in the expansion draft. She’s amazing. Led the league in scoring the past three years, only been in it for four.”

“This is soccer, right?”

With a heavy sigh, Jess tossed the jersey across the desk.

“Keep reading. I’ll have the car here at six.”

Lena smiled to herself as she held up the jersey, happy to have her name on it anyway with the logo of the rebranded L Corp. She never got used to seeing that, her accomplishments come to fruition. Somehow she accidentally bought a sports team, and though she wasn’t thrilled about having to spend her evening not at home on the couch, she was excited to see what her assistant created, excited to have done something for the city she grew to call home.

Not the biggest sports fan on the planet, Lena looked back at the screen with the team on it and found number eleven and gulped slightly, deciding that sports couldn’t be that bad.

XXXXXXXXX

The music blasted in the headphones, so loudly that nothing else could be heard, not even a thundering heartbeat or heavy breathing. The world and its honks and horns and yelling and voices and city chatter completely disappeared to nothing outside of the stadium, outside of the pitch of fresh grass.

Before the first fan would be welcomed, before they thrust open the grates on the concession stands, before the lights were tested and left on, a single player began her routine, sitting in the stands alone and taking in the world around her, as soon it would be chaos-- screaming people on the sidelines, lines calling changes and plays in the heat of the moment, chirping from those coming to disrupt her home. The soccer player’s head nodded to the beat of the song as she prepared, washing the rest of it away and focusing, centering herself.

The stadium was beginning to breathe again, with works appearing, setting up for the sell-out crowd. By the time the first few teammates began to filter out to warm up, Kara was warming up, making her way from side to side with a light jog, stretching muscles and coming back from her solitary centering.

“Are you getting nervous yet?” Nia asked as she sat on the ground, working hamstrings into something more tenable.

“I’m getting excited,” Kara corrected.

She was a leader on the team, and she took the responsibility very seriously. That included measuring her responses for the younger teammates, making sure that she was always on. It also meant that she played her heart out and left every ounce of energy on the field. She was going to lead the league again. She was going to keep her national team spot. She was going to accomplish great things, just as her parents always told her.

“I’m getting nervous,” her teammate confessed. “Sarah Lance is a terrifying defender. And Foster is a sniper.”

“But you’re Nia Nal,” Kara smiled, helping to pull her goaltender up. She didn’t let her escape though. She held her shoulders in her hands and gave her an intense look. “You are a brick wall. You are unstoppable. You are a fortress. That’s your goal, and no one is going to score today.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do,” the captain disagreed, grinning a little wider now. “Hey, Allen, tell Nal what she is.”

From over her shoulder another teammate immediately chimed in.

“Nia Nal is a force to be reckoned with! She’s not allowing one point this entire year.”

“See that?” Kara grinned, turning back to her goalie. “Everyone already knows it.”

“I know,” Nia nodded, a little less worried and a little more serious.

“Good. Let’s run some drills. I’m no Foster, but I’ll try to make it hard for you.”

Leadership was a role Kara felt both thrust upon her and eager taken up, as if it were second nature. She didn’t think about it, not directly, but often her time was spent planning her moves within the team to make them successful. It showed on the field.

On the pitch though, Kara was completely untouchable. She was focused on her goals and she was ready for anything. She was the captain, the heart, the everything for her team, and she gave her all because for so long it was all she had.

“Danvers, lets go,” the coach’s voice called as the player finished getting ready, completing the final tasks of her routine. “I need you for some press stuff.”

“I thought that was after,” Kara furrowed as she trotted over to Cat Grant as the rest of the team finished up in the locker room.

“Opening day means a lot of parading around,” she explained as they walked through the corridor. “You know this team is precarious at best. We have to do everything we can to appease the money bags.”

“I was going to do some appeasing on the scoreboard. Try to put on a show.”

“If you could do both, I’d appreciate it.”

“You know I can.”

With a comparable grin, Cat nodded and tugged open a door that led to a lobby area, where post game interviews would be held, where the team would meet before the huddle, only this time it was nearly empty save for two women.

“Ms. Luthor,” Cat held out her hand as she approached the striking woman that Kara was stuck staring at. “It’s an honor to have you out here to see our first game.”

“I’ve heard you’ve done amazing things. I’m excited to watch,” she smiled back, clasping Grant’s hand with both of hers.

Dimples were there, right on her cheeks. There was also red lipstick. Cherry red and full on the lips. And her eyes. The green of the jersey was absolutely perfect for making her eyes seem like never-ending forests. Kara cleared her throat when she remembered to swallow and looked away from her face quickly, afraid of gawking too long, though her own cheeks grew a bit warm with the observations. The problem was that looking anywhere else was just as bad. Skin-tight black jeans betrayed hips, and the jersey was enough to not hide her chest, and Kara wanted to pluck out her own eyeballs.

While she introduced her assistant, Kara looked helplessly at the door and shifted on her feet, hoping to avoid the weird feeling in her chest and head.

“This is one of our stars, Kara Danvers. She’ll be doing some press with you after the game, so I thought it’d be better to look as if you’ve met before.”

“Good thinking,” Lena smiled and held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Kara nodded, curt and polite enough, the handshake not lasting very long.

“I will confess I don’t know much about soccer, but I’ve done my research on you,” the money explained. “Jess was telling me how brilliant you are, and I’m excited for you to share your talent with the city.”

“Me? Yes, um. I am as well. Excited. I love this city. My second home it is.”

With a funny look on her face, Lena just nodded and turned back to the coach, her glance following a beat later as Kara looked away, her cheeks full firetrucks.

“I wont interrupt anymore of your prep time,” Lena explained. “Thank you Cat.”

“Enjoy the view from the owner’s box.”

“I get one of those?” Lena asked, her voice going a little low as she asked her assistant.

Kara lingered for a moment as her coach made her way back toward the lock eroom to prepare. She met Lena’s lok and offered another shy smile before hurring to turn around.

“See you later,” she offered and cringed as she turned around.

The entire walk back to the locker room, Kara hung her head, oddly confused about the very short but very weird meeting. She didn’t know what to do or what she had done, just that she had a game to win and now knew that Lena Luthor existed.

XXXXXXXXXXX

“Good evening National City!” the CEO cheered from the edge of the pitch, a giant television of herself played just behind her for everyone to see in the sold out crowd.

The sun was beginning to set behind the city, the stadium sitting on the edge of the water with a view of the skyline and the lake behind it. It was all so new and clean and nice, that Lena took a little bit of pride in the fact hat she had some hand to play in it all even if she wan’t acutely aware of it.

“I am so happy to introduce you to your National City FC!”

The crowd roared again as she smiled into the microphone and surveyed the edge of the field with the waiting players and their tiny equivalents.

“It has been an honor to be part of bringing the next great franchise to our wonderful city, and I know these women are going to make you all so proud!”

The cheering was awfully addicting, and Lena was going to try to figure out how to get twenty thousand people to follow her around and agree with everything she said.

“What do you say we get this inaugural season underway?”

Lena smiled and waved, handing over the microphone to the emcee. The deep voice began to introduce the team as the owner walked off of the field toward her assistant who smiled, much too knowledgeable about the fact that her boss was actually having fun despite her inability to admit it.

“You looked good out there,” Jess nodded as Lena stood beside her, shielding her eyes from the squint of the sun as she looked at her team.

“Sports aren’t that bad,” Lena shrugged.

Despite herself, the CEO found Kara Danvers in the lineup, a little girl standing before her as they did the anthem and introductions. Even though everyone was quiet and preparing for the game, the little girl was antsy. Kara held her hands and lifted her up slightly, swinging her a bit, her shoulders and biceps straining. Lena swallowed as she watched Kara giggle with the little girl, and wondered how someone could exist that was insanely hot and also a big old goober. It didn’t seem fair.

“Let’s get to the box,” Jess offered, interrupting the absolute dehydration Lena was experiencing and hoping to hide. “We can go over some of the basics and I can finish explaining the strategy.”

“I trust your judgement, but I should learn a few things for press. This is going to take a lot more of my face than previous expected, I guess?”

“I was hoping a few showings of your face, and if we win, we’ll solidify the team. National City is lacking a prestigious championship caliber team.”

On the field, Kara hopped slightly before stretching out her legs and getting out the jitters. Hair pulled back tightly, her armband meant she was the captain, and she commanded her team with precision.

“Is this our first championship team?”

“I think so.”

“This is a much more enjoyable investment than all those property deals and some of those research labs I have to hear about.”

“Says the engineer?”

“It pains me to admit it.”

The whistle blew and Kara sprinted out, capturing the ball and immediately making her way toward the other goal. Lena’s heart jumped into her throat at the sheer force and speed of it all before she allowed Jess to tug her back to her box.

“How much do you know about Kara Danvers?” Lena asked, hoping it as subtle enough to be taken as small talk.

“It’s all in the folders.”

The CEO nodded as the elevator ascended, and she didn’t dare to chance a look at her secretary.

XXXXXXXXXX

No matter how many times she played, the adrenaline from a game was still mildly addicting. No matter how many goals she scored, the elation of scoring another was a fix that Kara Danvers chased perpetually. Nothing compared to it.

After the final whistle blew though, after the game ended and there was nothing left to give, she found herself full of these things, and no matter how tired her muscles and body became, the high was slow to come down from. It did make everything happen quicker though, and somehow, not long after winning, and a hat trick under her belt, Kara found herself seated in the media room with the team logo behind her and her new owner beside her.

“You must be fairly happy with the game tonight,” one reporter began, “any worries about the team as a whole that you will be working on this week at practice?”

“We’re always looking to be better, and I can’t say we were flawless, but I’m so excited for where we’re at as a team, that I’m just going to bask for the evening before we get back to work in the morning.”

The group chuckled slightly as the PR director called on the next hand.

“Ms. Luthor, how important was it for this team to get a win tonight? Was it validation for your involvement? Vindication maybe for all the naysayers who were against the expansion?”

“I can honestly say I haven’t paid any attention to anyone who was against this project,” Lena smiled as she earned a laugh from the audience. “It’s important to win as many games as possible for any team, let alone this team. We have a lot to prove as the new kids on the block, but I think Ms. Danvers is right, and we should celebrate and come back ready to continue in the morning.”

For the life of her, Kara wasn’t sure why the mention of her name or the corresponding look from Lena made the tips of her ears burn, but she smiled awkwardly and tried to ignore it.

“Ms. Luthor, what made you invest in this team and this opportunity?”

“The excitement in my advisor’s face when she talked about the team,” the CEO explained, nodding to the woman Kara didn’t remember officially meeting. “I can’t take credit for doing much more except being completely taken with Kara.”

The player snapped to look at the CEO for the pause that seemed to last much too long.

“Wait,” Lena shook her head and laughed. “Kara and her team. The sport really. The little girls that come out with the team. My advisor was one of those little girls, and she is now one of the most admirable and driven people I have ever met. If a team like this can give her joy and hope, imagine what it can do for all of the other little girls.”

“How does it feel to have the most powerful woman in the world behind you, Kara?”

“I’m quite taken by it,” she offered humbly with a smile, earning a laugh from the group and Lena in particular. “To be honest though, it is a truly empowering fact. To have someone with such kindness and tenacity as an example, it’s amazing.”

The pair shared a smile, and Kara looked back at the crowd, preparing for the next question.

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transienturl · 4 years

Text

There’s apparently a challenge going on at Twitter where you gotta list off what you know about each state of the US, so I’m stealing the prompt from @fixaidea since it might be interesting!

I’ll be particularly interested to see how much of my knowledge of the states is either from sports (which in the past few years I guess I have become a follower of, sort of, insofar as I only read articles about them) or politics.

Edit from the future: Holy crap this got long. I’m gonna stop after doing the first... half-ish and do another post with the rest later, lol.

Alabama: The stereotypical “red state:” highly Christian, highly conservative. No idea about demographics - I feel like I haven’t heard of a sizable Black population, for some reason? Seems odd for a southern state. Massively into college football and the Alabama-Auburn rivalry.

Alaska: Lots of unpopulated or sparsely populated land, probably largely federal land. Pretty in the supper, supposedly. Lots of wildlife; bears and fish seem like the stereotype. Hard not to associate with Sarah Palin. Used to have a major international airport when the Soviet Union didn’t allow flight over its territory. Population mostly in cities in the southwest coast(?)

Arizona: Hot, dry. Low population density. Significant amount of Native American reservations, I... think? (Not sure that is actually the most appropriate and respectful term?) Only things I know of there are the Grand Canyon, one university, and the Cardinals NFL team.

Arkansas: Uhh... it has a low population, is not on the coast, is probably west of the Mississippi, and probably tends to vote Republican? I don’t actually know where Arkansas is. Actually, maybe that’s Kansas, and Arkansas is near Tennessee and, like, North Carolina. Actually, that sounds right. Forget what I said earlier. That being said, I (clearly) have no idea whatsoever.

California: Huge, so hard to summarize; climate especially varies a lot between north and south. Huge, diverse population. Significant Asian-American population, including Governor. Reliable Democrat vote. LA is basically the biggest population center in the US; has Hollywood and lots of media production. Expensive place to live. Has 2 teams of most sports leagues just like NYC, and still has high population-per-team. San Diego is further South. San Francisco area has tons of tech companies, large bay, golden gate bridge, significant homelessness issue. State is also big on surfing, wine production.

Colorado: Fairly low population density overall, as you might expect from a western non-coastal state, but Denver is actually pretty dense. Has a bunch of the sports teams that basically represent that area of the US. Fairly liberal on the whole(?); was known for early legalization of marijuana. Lots of mountains. (No idea if it’s just Denver that’s a mile high or most of the state’s area.)

Connecticut: Tiny. Usually thought of in the same breath as its neighbors like Massachusetts and New York. I can’t actually think of anything specific to Connecticut that’s not about New England. Has a highway.

Delaware: Tiny. Joe Biden lives there. Uhh...

District of Columbia: Has more population than... I forget how many, but enough states that it obviously should be one. Ridiculously, absurdly blue “state.” (Partially from not including ~any rural area, I’m sure, but still.) The whole federal government is there. Square-ish.

Florida: Big, warm, wet. Nice weather for retired people and those trying to escape the cold. Lots of swamps and wildlife (alligators, stereotypically). Palm trees. We launch rockets there so they can go East over the ocean and are near the equator. Has Disney... uh, world? land? Miami is known as a destination city for partying. Tampa Bay is... I don’t know. Jacksonville has a military port. I would have assumed Miami and Orlando were the only large cities if not for sports. Cuba is close to Miami, so there’s a significant Cuban population. (Hispanic, too, possibly?) Swing state.

Georgia: Southern state with all that entails. Significant Black population. High Christian population, I assume. Elected a Black governor, which is a huge deal. Atlanta is a huge Black cultural center(?).

Hawaii: Y’all know what Hawaii is, so gonna skip the general stuff. Big Polynesian(?) population. Big military population and influence. Big Asian population and a common vacation destination from Japan, China, etc. Expensive as hell, obviously. Very liberal. Big on fighting climate change. Surprisingly diverse climate, considering how small it is.

Idaho: Lots of farming, not a lot of people. The stereotype is potatoes, but I don’t actually know how accurate that is. Midwestern.

Illinois: Has Chicago, a huge city, and a bunch of non-Chicago area, serving as the common example of how states are designed to have diverse population density. Chicago is on the (one of the great lakes), and sometimes it’s very windy and cold. Uh... I don’t actually know a lot about Illinois. Usually votes blue? People seem to like their sports teams?

Indiana: Midwestern. Red state. Known for the Indy 500, Mike Pence being from there, John Green living there, and... not sure what else, really. Has sports teams in Indianapolis, so presumably it’s fairly populous.

Iowa: Midwestern...ish, I think? Known for the first caucuses, and thus for being a small swing state comprised of basically just white people. Has... farms, I think?

Kansas: See entry for Arkansas.

Kentucky: Southern state known for bluegrass music, barbecue(?), uh... and probably some other stuff? In what I’m calling the Tennessee area. Super red state.

Louisiana: Southern coastal state. Has the Mississippi river mouth, I think. Has New Orleans, which is known for cuisine, French influence, and getting hit by Hurricane Katrina. (And football, both college and professional.) Also, mardi gras. Super red state.

Maine: Lots of forests. Not lots of not-white-people. So far northeast it’s basically Canada. Known for Lobster fishing, having an independent-party senator, ranked-choice voting, and... well, being full of forests.

Maryland: Hm. Washingon D.C. was originally Maryland, so this must be near Virginia. Oh, right, Baltimore is in Maryland. Which is known for crab fishing. And uh... I’m gonna guess red state? I feel like I should have more here.

Massachusetts: Where I grew up, which surprisingly makes it hard to describe since you just think of your birthplace as the default. Insert New England things here. Clam chowder, being pretty in the fall, I dunno. Has Boston, the biggest(?) city in New England. Won basically ever sport one year.

Michigan: Is between all the great lakes. Was once a manufacturing powerhouse, and to a lesser extent presumably still is. Has Detroit, known as Motor City, where all (or a lot of) the US auto manufacturers are based, and Flint, known for poisoning a ton of its poor population with lead piping and doing fuck all about it.

Minnesota: Amy Klobuchar’s state, so midwestern and presumably moderate-democratic. Has a professional football rivalry with Wisconsin that almost seems to indicate a general rivalry of sorts. No idea what it’s known for economically.

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blackkudos · 4 years

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Paul Robeson

Paul Leroy Robeson ( ROHB-sən; April 9, 1898 – January 23, 1976) was an American bass baritone concert artist and stage and film actor who became famous both for his cultural accomplishments and for his political activism. Educated at Rutgers College and Columbia University, he was also a star athlete in his youth. He also studied Swahili and linguistics at the School of Oriental and African Studies, London in 1934. His political activities began with his involvement with unemployed workers and anti-imperialist students whom he met in Britain and continued with support for the Loyalist cause in the Spanish Civil War and his opposition to fascism. In the United States he also became active in the Civil Rights Movement and other social justice campaigns. His sympathies for the Soviet Union and for communism, and his criticism of the United States government and its foreign policies, caused him to be blacklisted during the McCarthy era.

In 1915, Robeson won an academic scholarship to Rutgers College, where he was twice named a consensus All-American in football, and was the class valedictorian. Almost 80 years later, he was inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame. He received his LL.B. from Columbia Law School while playing in the National Football League (NFL). At Columbia, he sang and acted in off-campus productions. After graduating, he became a figure in the Harlem Renaissance with performances in The Emperor Jones and All God's Chillun Got Wings.

Between 1925 and 1961, Robeson recorded and released some 276 distinct songs, many of which were recorded several times. The first of these were the spirituals "Steal Away" backed with "Were You There" in 1925. Robeson's recorded repertoire spanned many styles, including Americana, popular standards, classical music, European folk songs, political songs, poetry and spoken excerpts from plays.

Robeson performed in Britain in a touring melodrama, Voodoo, in 1922, and in Emperor Jones in 1925, and scored a major success in the London premiere of Show Boat in 1928, settling in London for several years with his wife Eslanda. While continuing to establish himself as a concert artist, Robeson also starred in a London production of Othello, the first of three productions of the play over the course of his career. He also gained attention in the film production of Show Boat (1936) and other films such as Sanders of the River (1935) and The Proud Valley (1940). During this period, Robeson became increasingly attuned to the sufferings of people of other cultures, notably the British working class and the colonized peoples of the British Empire. He advocated for Republican forces during the Spanish Civil War and became active in the Council on African Affairs (CAA).

Returning to the United States in 1939, during World War II Robeson supported the American and Allied war efforts. However, his history of supporting civil rights causes and pro-Soviet policies brought scrutiny from the FBI. After the war ended, the CAA was placed on the Attorney General's List of Subversive Organizations and Robeson was investigated during the age of McCarthyism. Due to his decision not to recant his public advocacy, he was denied a passport by the U.S. State Department, and his income, consequently, plummeted. He moved to Harlem and from 1950 to 1955 published a periodical called Freedom which was critical of United States policies. His right to travel was eventually restored as a result of the 1958 United States Supreme Court decision, Kent v. Dulles. In the early 1960s he retired and lived the remaining years of his life privately in Philadelphia.

Early life

1898–1915: Childhood

Paul Leroy Robeson was born in Princeton, New Jersey, in 1898, to Reverend William Drew Robeson and Maria Louisa Bustill. His mother, Maria, was from a prominent Quaker family of mixed ancestry. His father, William, was of Igbo origin and was born into slavery, William escaped from a plantation in his teens and eventually became the minister of Princeton's Witherspoon Street Presbyterian Church in 1881. Robeson had three brothers: William Drew Jr. (born 1881), Reeve (born c. 1887), and Ben (born c. 1893); and one sister, Marian (born c. 1895).

In 1900, a disagreement between William and white financial supporters of Witherspoon arose with apparent racial undertones, which were prevalent in Princeton. William, who had the support of his entirely black congregation, resigned in 1901. The loss of his position forced him to work menial jobs. Three years later when Robeson was six, his mother, who was nearly blind, died in a house fire. Eventually, William became financially incapable of providing a house for himself and his children still living at home, Ben and Paul, so they moved into the attic of a store in Westfield, New Jersey.

William found a stable parsonage at the St. Thomas A.M.E. Zion in 1910, where Robeson filled in for his father during sermons when he was called away. In 1912, Robeson attended Somerville High School in Somerville, New Jersey, where he performed in Julius Caesar and Othello, sang in the chorus, and excelled in football, basketball, baseball and track. His athletic dominance elicited racial taunts which he ignored. Prior to his graduation, he won a statewide academic contest for a scholarship to Rutgers and was named class valedictorian. He took a summer job as a waiter in Narragansett Pier, Rhode Island, where he befriended Fritz Pollard, later to be the first African-American coach in the National Football League.

1915–1919: Rutgers College

In late 1915, Robeson became the third African-American student ever enrolled at Rutgers, and the only one at the time. He tried out for the Rutgers Scarlet Knights football team, and his resolve to make the squad was tested as his teammates engaged in excessive play, during which his nose was broken and his shoulder dislocated. The coach, Foster Sanford, decided he had overcome the provocation and announced that he had made the team.

Robeson joined the debating team and sang off-campus for spending money, and on-campus with the Glee Club informally, as membership required attending all-white mixers. He also joined the other collegiate athletic teams. As a sophomore, amidst Rutgers' sesquicentennial celebration, he was benched when a Southern team refused to take the field because the Scarlet Knights had fielded a Negro, Robeson.

After a standout junior year of football, he was recognized in The Crisis for his athletic, academic, and singing talents. At this time his father fell grievously ill. Robeson took the sole responsibility in caring for him, shuttling between Rutgers and Somerville. His father, who was the "glory of his boyhood years" soon died, and at Rutgers, Robeson expounded on the incongruity of African Americans fighting to protect America in World War I but, contemporaneously, being without the same opportunities in the United States as whites.

He finished university with four annual oratorical triumphs and varsity letters in multiple sports. His play at end won him first-team All-American selection, in both his junior and senior years. Walter Camp considered him the greatest end ever. Academically, he was accepted into Phi Beta Kappa and Cap and Skull. His classmates recognized him by electing him class valedictorian. The Daily Targum published a poem featuring his achievements. In his valedictory speech, he exhorted his classmates to work for equality for all Americans.

1919–1923: Columbia Law School and marriage

Robeson entered New York University School of Law in fall 1919. To support himself, he became an assistant football coach at Lincoln, where he joined the Alpha Phi Alpha. However, Robeson felt uncomfortable at NYU and moved to Harlem and transferred to Columbia Law School in February 1920. Already known in the black community for his singing, he was selected to perform at the dedication of the Harlem YWCA.

Robeson began dating Eslanda "Essie" Goode and after her coaxing, he gave his theatrical debut as Simon in Ridgely Torrence's Simon of Cyrene. After a year of courtship, they were married in August 1921.

Robeson was recruited by Pollard to play for the NFL's Akron Pros while he continued his law studies. In the spring, Robeson postponed school to portray Jim in Mary Hoyt Wiborg's play Taboo. He then sang in a chorus in an Off-Broadway production of Shuffle Along before he joined Taboo in Britain. The play was adapted by Mrs. Patrick Campbell to highlight his singing. After the play ended, he befriended Lawrence Brown, a classically trained musician, before returning to Columbia while playing for the NFL's Milwaukee Badgers. He ended his football career after 1922, and months later, he graduated from law school.

Theatrical success and ideological transformation

1923–1927: Harlem Renaissance

Robeson worked briefly as a lawyer, but he renounced a career in law due to widespread racism. Essie financially supported them and they frequented the social functions at the future Schomburg Center. In December 1924 he landed the lead role of Jim in Eugene O'Neill's All God's Chillun Got Wings, which culminated with Jim metaphorically consummating his marriage with his white wife by symbolically emasculating himself. Chillun's opening was postponed due to nationwide controversy over its plot.

Chillun's delay led to a revival of The Emperor Jones with Robeson as Brutus, a role pioneered by Charles Sidney Gilpin. The role terrified and galvanized Robeson, as it was practically a 90-minute soliloquy. Reviews declared him an unequivocal success. Though arguably clouded by its controversial subject, his Jim in Chillun was less well received. He deflected criticism of its plot by writing that fate had drawn him to the "untrodden path" of drama and the true measure of a culture is in its artistic contributions, and the only true American culture was African-American.

The success of his acting placed him in elite social circles and his ascension to fame, which was forcefully aided by Essie, had occurred at a startling pace. Essie's ambition for Robeson was a startling dichotomy to his indifference. She quit her job, became his agent, and negotiated his first movie role in a silent race film directed by Oscar Micheaux, Body and Soul (1925). To support a charity for single mothers, he headlined a concert singing spirituals. He performed his repertoire of spirituals on the radio.

Lawrence Brown, who had become renowned while touring as a pianist with gospel singer Roland Hayes, stumbled upon Robeson in Harlem. The two ad-libbed a set of spirituals, with Robeson as lead and Brown as accompanist. This so enthralled them that they booked Provincetown Playhouse for a concert. The pair's rendition of African-American folk songs and spirituals was captivating, and Victor Records signed Robeson to a contract.

The Robesons went to London for a revival of The Emperor Jones, before spending the rest of the fall on holiday on the French Riviera, socializing with Gertrude Stein and Claude McKay. Robeson and Brown performed a series of concert tours in America from January 1926 until May 1927.

During a hiatus in New York, Robeson learned that Essie was several months pregnant. Paul Robeson Jr. was born in November 1927 in New York, while Robeson and Brown toured Europe. Essie experienced complications from the birth, and by mid-December, her health had deteriorated dramatically. Ignoring Essie's objections, her mother wired Robeson and he immediately returned to her bedside. Essie completely recovered after a few months.

1928–1932: Show Boat, Othello, and marriage difficulties

In 1928, Robeson played "Joe" in the London production of the American musical Show Boat, at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. His rendition of "Ol' Man River" became the benchmark for all future performers of the song. Some black critics were not pleased with the play due to its usage of the word "nigger". It was, nonetheless, immensely popular with white audiences. He was summoned for a Royal Command Performance at Buckingham Palace and Robeson was befriended by MPs from the House of Commons. Show Boat continued for 350 performances and, as of 2001, it remained the Royal's most profitable venture. The Robesons bought a home in Hampstead. He reflected on his life in his diary and wrote that it was all part of a "higher plan" and "God watches over me and guides me. He's with me and lets me fight my own battles and hopes I'll win." However, an incident at the Savoy Grill, in which he was refused seating, sparked him to issue a press release describing the insult which subsequently became a matter of public debate.

Essie had learned early in their marriage that Robeson had been involved in extramarital affairs, but she tolerated them. However, when she discovered that he was having another affair, she unfavorably altered the characterization of him in his biography, and defamed him by describing him with "negative racial stereotypes". Despite her uncovering of this tryst, there was no public evidence that their relationship had soured.

The couple appeared in the experimental Swiss film Borderline (1930). He then returned to the Savoy Theatre, in London's West End to play Othello, opposite Peggy Ashcroft as Desdemona. Robeson was the first black actor to play Othello in Britain since Ira Aldridge. The production received mixed reviews which noted Robeson's "highly civilized quality [but lacking the] grand style." Robeson stated the best way to diminish the oppression African Americans faced was for his artistic work to be an example of what "men of my colour" could accomplish rather than to "be a propagandist and make speeches and write articles about what they call the Colour Question."

After Essie discovered Robeson had been having an affair with Ashcroft, she decided to seek a divorce and they split up. Robeson returned to Broadway as Joe in the 1932 revival of Show Boat, to critical and popular acclaim. Subsequently, he received, with immense pride, an honorary master's degree from Rutgers. Thereabout, his former football coach, Foster Sanford, advised him that divorcing Essie and marrying Ashcroft would do irreparable damage to his reputation. Ashcroft and Robeson's relationship ended in 1932, following which Robeson and Essie reconciled, although their relationship was scarred permanently.

1933–1937: Ideological awakening

In 1933, Robeson played the role of Jim in the London production of Chillun, virtually gratis, then returned to the United States to star as Brutus in the film The Emperor Jones, "a feat not repeated for more than two decades in the U.S." His acting in The Emperor Jones—the first film to feature an African American in a starring role—was well received. On the film set he rejected any slight to his dignity, despite the widespread Jim Crow atmosphere in the United States. Upon returning to England he publicly criticized African Americans' rejection of their own culture. Despite negative reactions from the press, such as a New York Amsterdam News retort that Robeson had made a "jolly well [ass of himself]", he also announced that he would reject any offers to perform European opera because the music had no connection to his heritage.

In early 1934 Robeson enrolled in the School of Oriental and African Studies, a constituent college of the University of London, where he studied Phonetics, Swahili and other African languages. His "sudden interest" in African history and its impact on culture coincided with his essay "I Want to be African", wherein he wrote of his desire to embrace his ancestry.

His friends in the anti-imperialism movement and association with British socialists led him to visit the Soviet Union. Robeson, Essie, and Marie Seton traveled to the Soviet Union on an invitation from Sergei Eisenstein in December 1934. A stopover in Berlin enlightened Robeson to the racism in Nazi Germany and, on his arrival in Moscow, in the Soviet Union, Robeson said, "Here I am not a Negro but a human being for the first time in my life ... I walk in full human dignity." Waldemar ("Wally") Hille, who subsequently went on to do arrangements on the People's Songs Bulletin, got his start as an early touring pianist for Robeson.

He undertook the role of Bosambo in the movie Sanders of the River (1935), which he felt would render a realistic view of colonial African culture. Sanders of the River made Robeson an international movie star; but the stereotypical portrayal of a colonial African was seen as embarrassing to his stature as an artist and damaging to his reputation. The Commissioner of Nigeria to London protested the film as slanderous to his country, and Robeson thereafter became more politically conscious of his roles. He appeared in the play Stevedore at the Embassy Theatre in London in May 1935, which was favorably reviewed in The Crisis by Nancy Cunard, who concluded: "Stevedore is extremely valuable in the racial–social question—it is straight from the shoulder". In early 1936, he decided to send his son to school in the Soviet Union to shield him from racist attitudes. He then played the role of Toussaint Louverture in the eponymous play by C.L.R. James at the Westminster Theatre, and appeared in the films Song of Freedom, Show Boat (both 1936), My Song Goes Forth, King Solomon's Mines. and was the narrator of the documentary Big Fella (all 1937). In 1938, he was named by American Motion Picture Herald as the 10th most popular star in British cinema.

1937–1939: Spanish Civil War and political activism

Robeson believed that the struggle against fascism during the Spanish Civil War was a turning point in his life and transformed him into a political activist. In 1937, he used his concert performances to advocate the Republican cause and the war's refugees. He permanently modified his renditions of "Ol' Man River" – initially, by singing the word "darkies" instead of "niggers"; later, by changing some of the stereotypical dialect in the lyrics to standard English and replacing the fatalistic last verse ("Ah gits weary/ An' sick of tryin'/ Ah'm tired of livin'/ An skeered of dyin'") with an uplifting verse of his own ("But I keep laffin'/ Instead of cryin'/ I must keep fightin'/ Until I'm dyin'") – transforming it from a tragic "song of resignation with a hint of protest implied" into a battle hymn of unwavering defiance. His business agent expressed concern about his political involvement, but Robeson overruled him and decided that contemporary events trumped commercialism. In Wales, he commemorated the Welsh people killed while fighting for the Republicans, where he recorded a message that became his epitaph: "The artist must take sides. He must elect to fight for freedom or slavery. I have made my choice. I had no alternative."

After an invitation from J.B.S. Haldane, he traveled to Spain in 1938 because he believed in the International Brigades's cause, visited the hospital of the Benicàssim, singing to the wounded soldiers. Robeson also visited the battlefront and provided a morale boost to the Republicans at a time when their victory was unlikely. Back in England, he hosted Jawaharlal Nehru to support Indian independence, whereat Nehru expounded on imperialism's affiliation with Fascism. Robeson reevaluated the direction of his career and decided to focus on the ordeals of "common people", He appeared in the pro-labor play Plant in the Sun, in which he played an Irishman, his first "white" role. With Max Yergan, and the CAA, Robeson became an advocate in the aspirations of African nationalists for political independence.

Robeson also developed a sympathy for China's side in the Second Sino-Japanese War. In 1940, the Chinese progressive activist, Liu Liangmo taught Robeson the patriotic song "Chee Lai!" ("Arise!"), known as the March of the Volunteers. Robeson memorized the words in Chinese. Robeson premiered the song at a large concert in New York City's Lewisohn Stadium and recorded it in both English and Chinese for Keynote Records in early 1941. Its 3-disc album included a booklet whose preface was written by Soong Ching-ling, widow of Sun Yat-sen, Robeson gave further performances at benefits for the China Aid Council and United China Relief at their sold-out concert at Washington's Uline Arena on April 24, 1941. The Washington Committee for Aid to China had booked Constitution Hall but been blocked by the Daughters of the American Revolution owing to Robeson's race. The indignation was great enough that President Roosevelt's wife Eleanor and Hu Shih, the Chinese ambassador, joined as sponsors. However, when the organizers offered tickets on generous terms to the National Negro Congress to help fill the larger venue, these sponsors withdrew, in objection to the NNC's Communist ties.

Partly because of the favorable international reputation Robeson gave to the song, it became China's National Anthem after 1949. The Chinese lyricist died in a Beijing prison in 1968, but Robeson continued to send royalties to his family.

World War II, the Broadway Othello, political activism, and McCarthyism

1939–1945: World War II and the Broadway Othello

Robeson's last British film was The Proud Valley (1940), set in a Welsh coal-mining town. After the outbreak of World War II, Robeson and his family returned to the United States in 1940, to Enfield, Connecticut, and he became America's "no.1 entertainer" with a radio broadcast of Ballad for Americans. Nevertheless, during a tour in 1940, the Beverly Wilshire Hotel was the only major Los Angeles hotel willing to accommodate him due to his race, at an exorbitant rate and registered under an assumed name, and he therefore dedicated two hours every afternoon to sitting in the lobby, where he was widely recognised, "to ensure that the next time Black[s] come through, they'll have a place to stay." Los Angeles hotels lifted their restrictions on black guests soon afterwards.

Furthermore, the documentary Native Land (1942), which Robeson narrated, was labeled by the FBI as communist propaganda. After an appearance in Tales of Manhattan (1942), a production that he felt was "very offensive to my people", he announced that he would no longer act in films because of the demeaning roles available to blacks.

Robeson participated in benefit concerts on behalf of the war effort and at a concert at the Polo Grounds, he met two emissaries from the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee, Solomon Mikhoels and Itzik Feffer Subsequently, Robeson reprised his role of Othello at the Shubert Theatre in 1943, and became the first African American to play the role with a white supporting cast on Broadway. During the same period of time, he addressed a meeting with Kenesaw Mountain Landis in a failed attempt to convince him to admit black players to Major League Baseball. He toured North America with Othello until 1945, and subsequently, his political efforts with the CAA to get colonial powers to discontinue their exploitation of Africa were short-circuited by the United Nations.

1946–1949: Attorney General's List of Subversive Organizations

After the mass lynching of four African Americans on July 25, 1946, Robeson met with President Truman and admonished Truman by stating that if he did not enact legislation to end lynching, "the Negroes will defend themselves". Truman immediately terminated the meeting and declared that the time was not right to propose anti-lynching legislation. Subsequently, Robeson publicly called upon all Americans to demand that Congress pass civil rights legislation. Taking a stance against lynching, Robeson founded the American Crusade Against Lynching organization in 1946. This organization was thought to be a threat to the NAACP antiviolence movement. Robeson received support from W.E.B. Du Bois regarding this matter and officially launched this organization on the anniversary of the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation, September 23.

About this time, Robeson's belief that trade unionism was crucial to civil rights became a mainstay of his political beliefs as he became a proponent of the union activist Revels Cayton. Robeson was later called before the Tenney Committee where he responded to questions about his affiliation with the Communist Party USA (CPUSA) by testifying that he was not a member of the CPUSA. Nevertheless, two organizations with which Robeson was intimately involved, the Civil Rights Congress (CRC) and the CAA, were placed on the Attorney General's List of Subversive Organizations (AGLOSO). Subsequently, he was summoned before the United States Senate Committee on the Judiciary, and when questioned about his affiliation with the Communist Party, he refused to answer, stating: "Some of the most brilliant and distinguished Americans are about to go to jail for the failure to answer that question, and I am going to join them, if necessary."

In 1948, Robeson was preeminent in Henry A. Wallace's bid for the President of the United States, during which Robeson traveled to the Deep South, at risk to his own life, to campaign for him. In the ensuing year, Robeson was forced to go overseas to work because his concert performances were canceled at the FBI's behest. While on tour, he spoke at the World Peace Council, at which his speech was publicly reported as equating America with a Fascist state—a depiction that he flatly denied. Nevertheless, the speech publicly attributed to him was a catalyst for his becoming an enemy of mainstream America. Robeson refused to bow to public criticism when he advocated in favor of twelve defendants, including his long-time friend, Benjamin J. Davis Jr., charged during the Smith Act trials of Communist Party leaders.

Robeson traveled to Moscow in June, and tried to find Itzik Feffer. He let Soviet authorities know that he wanted to see him. Reluctant to lose Robeson as a propagandist for the Soviet Union, the Soviets brought Feffer from prison to him. Feffer told him that Mikhoels had been murdered, and he would be summarily executed. To protect the Soviet Union's reputation, and to keep the right wing of the United States from gaining the moral high ground, Robeson denied that any persecution existed in the Soviet Union, and kept the meeting secret for the rest of his life, except from his son. On June 20, 1949, Robeson spoke at the Paris Peace Congress saying that "We in America do not forget that it was on the backs of the white workers from Europe and on the backs of millions of Blacks that the wealth of America was built. And we are resolved to share it equally. We reject any hysterical raving that urges us to make war on anyone. Our will to fight for peace is strong. We shall not make war on anyone. We shall not make war on the Soviet Union. We oppose those who wish to build up imperialist Germany and to establish fascism in Greece. We wish peace with Franco's Spain despite her fascism. We shall support peace and friendship among all nations, with Soviet Russia and the people's Republics." He was blacklisted for saying this in the mainstream press within the United States, including in many periodicals of the Negro press such as The Crisis.

In order to isolate Robeson politically, the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) subpoenaed Jackie Robinson to comment on Robeson's Paris speech. Robinson testified that Robeson's statements, "'if accurately reported', were silly'". Days later, the announcement of a concert headlined by Robeson in New York City provoked the local press to decry the use of their community to support "subversives" and the Peekskill Riots ensued.

Later that year, Edward R. Murrow had CBS News colleague Don Hollenbeck contribute to the innovative media-review program CBS Views the Press over the radio network's flagship station WCBS. Hollenbeck discussed Edward U. Condon, Alger Hiss, and Paul Robeson. Regarding Robeson and the Peekskill riots of 27 August 1949, Hollenbeck said that, while most newspapers had covered the riots well, the New York World-Telegram had drawn from sources that disliked Robeson, including The Compass (successor to PM, Hollenbeck's former employer).

1950–1955: Blacklisted

A book reviewed in early 1950 as "the most complete record on college football" failed to list Robeson as ever having played on the Rutgers team and as ever having been an All-American. Months later, NBC canceled Robeson's appearance on Eleanor Roosevelt's television program. Subsequently, the State Department denied Robeson a passport and issued a "stop notice" at all ports because it believed that an isolated existence inside United States borders not only afforded him less freedom of expression but also avenge his "extreme advocacy on behalf of the independence of the colonial peoples of Africa." However, when Robeson met with State Department officials and asked why he was denied a passport, he was told that "his frequent criticism of the treatment of blacks in the United States should not be aired in foreign countries".

In 1951, an article titled "Paul Robeson – the Lost Shepherd" was published in The Crisis although Paul Jr. suspected it was written by Amsterdam News columnist Earl Brown. J. Edgar Hoover and the United States State Department arranged for the article to be printed and distributed in Africa in order to defame Robeson's reputation and reduce his and Communists' popularity in colonial countries. Another article by Roy Wilkins (now thought to have been the real author of "Paul Robeson – the Lost Shepherd") denounced Robeson as well as the Communist Party USA (CPUSA) in terms consistent with the anti-Communist FBI propaganda.

On December 17, 1951, Robeson presented to the United Nations an anti-lynching petition titled "We Charge Genocide". The document asserted that the United States federal government, by its failure to act against lynching in the United States, was "guilty of genocide" under Article II of the UN Genocide Convention.

In 1952, Robeson was awarded the International Stalin Prize by the Soviet Union. Unable to travel to Moscow, he accepted the award in New York. In April 1953, shortly after Stalin's death, Robeson penned To You My Beloved Comrade, praising Stalin as dedicated to peace and a guide to the world: "Through his deep humanity, by his wise understanding, he leaves us a rich and monumental heritage." Robeson's opinions about the Soviet Union kept his passport out of reach and stopped his return to the entertainment industry and the civil rights movement. In his opinion, the Soviet Union was the guarantor of political balance in the world.

In a symbolic act of defiance against the travel ban, in May 1952, labor unions in the United States and Canada organized a concert at the International Peace Arch on the border between Washington state and the Canadian province of British Columbia. Robeson returned to perform a second concert at the Peace Arch in 1953, and over the next two years, two further concerts took place. In this period, with the encouragement of his friend the Welsh politician Aneurin Bevan, Robeson recorded a number of radio concerts for supporters in Wales.

1956–1957: End of McCarthyism

In 1956, Robeson was called before HUAC after he refused to sign an affidavit affirming that he was not a Communist. In his testimony, he invoked the Fifth Amendment and refused to reveal his political affiliations. When asked why he had not remained in the Soviet Union because of his affinity with its political ideology, he replied, "because my father was a slave and my people died to build [the United States and], I am going to stay here, and have a part of it just like you and no fascist-minded people will drive me from it!" At that hearing, Robeson stated "Whether I am or not a Communist is irrelevant. The question is whether American citizens, regardless of their political beliefs or sympathies, may enjoy their constitutional rights." In 1957, still unable to accept invitations to perform abroad, Paul Robeson sang for audiences in London, where 1,000 concert tickets for his telephone concert at St Pancras Town Hall sold out within an hour, and Wales via the transatlantic telephone cable TAT-1: "We have to learn the hard way that there is another way to sing". An appeal to the Supreme Court of the United States to reinstate his confiscated passport had been rejected, but over the telephone Robeson was able to sing to the 5,000 gathered there as he had earlier in the year to London.

Due to the reaction to the promulgation of Robeson's political views, his recordings and films were removed from public distribution, and he was universally condemned in the U.S press. During the height of the Cold War, it became increasingly difficult in the United States to hear Robeson sing on commercial radio, buy his music or see his films.

In 1956, in the United Kingdom, Topic Records, at that time part of the Workers Music Association, released a single of Robeson singing "Joe Hill", written by Alfred Hayes and Earl Robinson, backed with "John Brown's Body". Joe Hill (1879–1915) was a labor activist in the early 20th century, and "Joe Hill" sung by Robeson is the third favorite choice of British Labour Party politicians on the BBC radio program Desert Island Discs.

Nikita Khrushchev's denunciation of Stalinism at the 1956 Party Congress silenced Robeson on Stalin, although Robeson continued to praise the Soviet Union. In 1956, after public pressure brought a one-time exemption to the travel ban, Robeson performed two concerts in Canada in February, one in Toronto and the other at a union convention in Sudbury, Ontario. That year Robeson, along with close friend W.E.B. Du Bois, compared the anti-Soviet uprising in Hungary to the "same sort of people who overthrew the Spanish Republican Government" and supported the Soviet invasion and suppression of the revolt.

Later years

1958–1960: Comeback tours

1958 saw the publication of Robeson's "manifesto-autobiography" Here I Stand. His passport was restored in June 1958 via Kent v. Dulles, and he embarked on a world tour using London as his base. In Moscow in August 1959, he received a tumultuous reception at the Luzhniki Stadium where he sang classic Russian songs along with American standards. Robeson and Essie then flew to Yalta to rest and spend time with Nikita Khrushchev.

On October 11, 1959, Robeson took part in a service at St. Paul's Cathedral, the first black performer to sing there. On a trip to Moscow, Robeson experienced bouts of dizziness and heart problems and was hospitalized for two months while Essie was diagnosed with operable cancer. He recovered and returned to the UK to visit the National Eisteddfod.

Meanwhile, the State Department had circulated negative literature about him throughout the media in India.

While leading The Royal Shakespeare Company starring as Othello in Tony Richardson's 1959 production at Stratford-upon-Avon, he befriended actor Andrew Faulds, whose family hosted him in the nearby village of Shottery. In 1960, in what was his final concert performance in Great Britain, Robeson sang to raise money for the Movement for Colonial Freedom at the Royal Festival Hall.

In October 1960, Robeson embarked on a two-month concert tour of Australia and New Zealand with Essie, primarily to generate money, at the behest of Australian politician Bill Morrow. While in Sydney, he became the first major artist to perform at the construction site of the future Sydney Opera House. After appearing at the Brisbane Festival Hall, they went to Auckland where Robeson reaffirmed his support of Marxism, denounced the inequality faced by the Māori and efforts to denigrate their culture. Thereabouts, Robeson publicly stated "..the people of the lands of Socialism want peace dearly".

During the tour he was introduced to Faith Bandler who interested the Robesons in the plight of the Australian Aborigines. Robeson, consequently, became enraged and demanded the Australian government provide the Aborigines citizenship and equal rights. He attacked the view of the Aborigines as being unsophisticated and uncultured, and declared, "there's no such thing as a backward human being, there is only a society which says they are backward."

1961–1963: Health breakdown

Back in London, he decided to return to the United States, where he hoped to resume participation in the civil rights movement, stopping off in Africa and Cuba along the way. Essie argued to stay in London, fearing that he'd be "killed" if he returned and would be "unable to make any money" due to harassment by the United States government. Robeson disagreed and made his own travel arrangements, arriving in Moscow in March 1961.

During an uncharacteristically wild party in his Moscow hotel room, Robeson locked himself in his bedroom and attempted suicide by cutting his wrists. Three days later, under Soviet medical care, he told his son that he felt extreme paranoia, thought that the walls of the room were moving and, overcome by a powerful sense of emptiness and depression, tried to take his own life.

Paul Jr. believed that his father's health problems stemmed from attempts by the CIA and MI5 to "neutralize" his father. He remembered that his father had had such fears prior to his prostate operation. He said that three doctors treating Robeson in London and New York had been CIA contractors, and that his father's symptoms resulted from being "subjected to mind depatterning under MK-ULTRA", a secret CIA programme. Martin Duberman wrote that Robeson's health breakdown was probably brought on by a combination of factors including extreme emotional and physical stress, bipolar depression, exhaustion and the beginning of circulatory and heart problems. "[E]ven without an organic predisposition and accumulated pressures of government harassment he might have been susceptible to a breakdown."

Robeson stayed at the Barvikha Sanatorium until September 1961, when he left for London. There his depression reemerged, and after another period of recuperation in Moscow, he returned to London. Three days after arriving back, he became suicidal and suffered a panic attack while passing the Soviet Embassy. He was admitted to the Priory Hospital, where he underwent electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) and was given heavy doses of drugs for nearly two years, with no accompanying psychotherapy. During his treatment at the Priory, Robeson was being monitored by the British MI5. Both intelligence services were well aware of Robeson's suicidal state of mind. An FBI memo described Robeson's debilitated condition, remarking that his "death would be much publicized" and would be used for Communist propaganda, necessitating continued surveillance. Numerous memos advised that Robeson should be denied a passport renewal, an obstacle that was likely to further jeopardize his recovery process.

In August 1963, disturbed about his treatment, friends and family had Robeson transferred to the Buch Clinic in East Berlin. Given psychotherapy and less medication, his physicians found him still "completely without initiative" and they expressed "doubt and anger" about the "high level of barbiturates and ECT" that had been administered in London. He rapidly improved, though his doctor stressed that "what little is left of Paul's health must be quietly conserved."

1963–1976: Retirement

In 1963, Robeson returned to the United States and for the remainder of his life lived in seclusion. He momentarily assumed a role in the civil rights movement, making a few major public appearances before falling seriously ill during a tour. Double pneumonia and a kidney blockage in 1965 nearly killed him.

Robeson was contacted by both Bayard Rustin and James Farmer about the possibility of becoming involved with the mainstream of the Civil Rights Movement. Because of Rustin's past anti-Communist stances, Robeson declined to meet with him. Robeson eventually met with Farmer, but because he was asked to denounce Communism and the Soviet Union in order to assume a place in the mainstream, Robeson adamantly declined.

After Essie, who had been his spokesperson to the media, died in December 1965, Robeson moved in with his son's family in New York City. He was rarely seen strolling near his Harlem apartment on Jumel Place [sic], and his son responded to press inquiries that his "father's health does not permit him to perform or answer questions."

In 1968, he settled at his sister's home in Philadelphia. Numerous celebrations were held in honor of Robeson over the next several years, including at public arenas that had previously shunned him, but he saw few visitors aside from close friends and gave few statements apart from messages to support current civil rights and international movements, feeling that his record "spoke for itself". In 1974, he posed for a portrait by artist Kenneth Hari at his sisters home. The portrait was unveiled in 1978 at the Paul Robeson Center at Rutgers University in Newark, New Jersey, where it remains on display. At a Carnegie Hall tribute to mark his 75th birthday in 1973, he was unable to attend, but a taped message from him was played that said: "Though I have not been able to be active for several years, I want you to know that I am the same Paul, dedicated as ever to the worldwide cause of humanity for freedom, peace and brotherhood."

1976: Death, funeral, and public response

On January 23, 1976, following complications of a stroke, Robeson died in Philadelphia at the age of 77. He lay in state in Harlem and his funeral was held at his brother Ben's former parsonage, Mother Zion AME Zion Church, where Bishop J. Clinton Hoggard performed the eulogy. His twelve pall bearers included Harry Belafonte and Fritz Pollard. He was interred in the Ferncliff Cemetery in Hartsdale, New York. According to biographer Martin Duberman, contemporary post-mortem reflections on Robeson's life in "[the] white [American] press..ignored the continuing inability of white America to tolerate a black maverick who refused to bend, ..downplayed the racist component central to his persecution [during his life]", as they "paid him gingerly respect and tipped their hat to him as a 'great American,'" while the black American press, "which had never, overall, been as hostile to Robeson [as the white American press had], opined that his life '...would always be a challenge to white and Black America.'"

Legacy and honors

Early in his life, Robeson was one of the most influential participants in the Harlem Renaissance. His achievements in sport and culture were all the more incredible given the barriers of racism he had to surmount. Robeson brought Negro spirituals into the American mainstream. His theatrical performances have been recognized as the first to display dignity for black actors and pride in African heritage, and he was among the first artists to refuse to play live to segregated audiences.

After McCarthyism, [Robeson's stand] on anti-colonialism in the 1940s would never again have a voice in American politics, but the [African independence movements] of the late 1950s and 1960s would vindicate his anti-colonial [agenda].

Subsequently, in 1945 he received the Spingarn medal from the NAACP. Several public and private establishments he was associated with have been landmarked, or named after him. His efforts to end Apartheid in South Africa were posthumously rewarded in 1978 by the United Nations General Assembly. Paul Robeson: Tribute to an Artist won an Academy Award for best short documentary in 1980. In 1995, he was named to the College Football Hall of Fame. In the centenary of his birth, which was commemorated around the world, he was awarded a Lifetime Achievement Grammy Award, as well as a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Robeson is also a member of the American Theater Hall of Fame.

As of 2011, the run of Othello starring Robeson was the longest-running production of a Shakespeare play ever staged on Broadway. He received a Donaldson Award for his performance. His Othello was characterised by Michael A. Morrison in 2011 as a high point in Shakespearean theatre in the 20th century.

Robeson left Australia as a respected, albeit controversial, figure and his support for Aboriginal rights had a profound effect in Australia over the next decade.

Robeson archives exist at the Academy of Arts; Howard University, and the Schomburg Center. In 2010, Susan Robeson launched a project by Swansea University and the Welsh Assembly to create an online learning resource in her grandfather's memory.

Robeson connected his own life and history not only to his fellow Americans and to his people in the South, but to all the people of Africa and its diaspora whose lives had been fundamentally shaped by the same processes that had brought his ancestors to America. While a consensus definition of his legacy remains controversial, to deny his courage in the face of public and governmental pressure would be to defame his courage.

In 1976, the apartment building on Edgecombe Avenue in the Washington Heights section of Manhattan where Robeson lived during the early 1940s was officially renamed the Paul Robeson Residence, and declared a National Historic Landmark. In 1993, the building was designated a New York City landmark as well. Edgecombe Avenue itself was later co-named Paul Robeson Boulevard.

In 1978, TASS announced that the Latvian Shipping Company had named one of its new 40,000-ton tankers Paul Robeson in honor of the singer. TASS said the ship's crew established a Robeson museum aboard the tanker.

In 1998, the second SOAS University London halls of residence was named in his honour.

In 2002, a blue plaque was unveiled by English Heritage on the house in Hampstead where Robeson lived in 1929–30.

In 2004, the U.S. Postal Service issued a 37-cent stamp honoring Robeson.

In 2006, a plaque was unveiled in his honour at the SOAS University London

In 2007, the Criterion Collection, a company that specializes in releasing special-edition versions of classic and contemporary films, released a DVD boxed set of Robeson films.

In 2009, Robeson was inducted into the New Jersey Hall of Fame.

The main campus library at Rutgers University-Camden is named after Robeson, as is the campus center at Rutgers University-Newark. The Paul Robeson Cultural Center is on the campus of Rutgers University-New Brunswick.

In 1972, Penn State established a formal cultural center on the University Park campus. Students and staff chose to name the center for Robeson.

A street in Princeton, New Jersey is named after him. In addition, the block of Davenport Street in Somerville, New Jersey, where St. Thomas AME Zion Church still stands is called Paul Robeson Boulevard.

In West Philadelphia, the Paul Robeson High School, which won 2019 U.S. News & World Report for Best High Schools in Pennsylvania, is also named after him.

To celebrate the 100th anniversary of Robeson's graduation, Rutgers University named an open-air plaza after him on Friday, April 12, 2019. The plaza, next to the Voorhees Mall on the College Avenue campus at Rutgers–New Brunswick, features eight black granite panels with details of Robeson's life. Also in 2019, Commercial Avenue in New Brunswick was renamed Paul Robeson Boulevard.

On March 6, 2019, the city council of New Brunswick, New Jersey approved the renaming of Commercial Avenue to Paul Robeson Boulevard.

In popular culture

In 1954, the Kurdish poet Abdulla Goran wrote the poem "Bangêk bo Pol Ropsin" ("A Call for Paul Robeson"). In the same year, another Kurdish poet, Cegerxwîn, also wrote a poem about him, "Heval Pol Robson" ("Comrade Paul Robeson"), which was put to music by singer Şivan Perwer in 1976.

Black 47's 1989 album Home of the Brave includes the song "Paul Robeson (Born to Be Free)", which features spoken quotes of Robeson as part of the song. These quotes are drawn from Robeson's testimony before the House Un-American Activities Committee in June 1956. In 2001, Welsh rock band Manic Street Preachers released a song titled "Let Robeson Sing" as a tribute to Robeson, which reached number 19 on the UK singles chart.

In January 1978, James Earl Jones performed the one-man show Paul Robeson, written by Phillip Hayes Dean, on Broadway. This stage drama was made into a TV movie in 1979, starring Jones and directed by Lloyd Richards. At the 2007 Edinburgh Festival Fringe, British-Nigerian actor Tayo Aluko, himself a baritone soloist, premiered his one-man show, Call Mr. Robeson: A Life with Songs, which has since toured various countries.

Tom Rob Smith's novel Agent 6 (2012) includes the character Jesse Austin, "a black singer, political activist and communist sympathizer modeled after real-life actor/activist Paul Robeson." Robeson also appears in short fiction published in the online literary magazines the Maple Tree Literary Supplement and Every Day Fiction.

In November 2014, it was reported that film director Steve McQueen's next film would be a biographical film about Paul Robeson. As of 2018, the film has not been made.

On September 7, 2019, Crossroads Theater Company performed Phillip Hayes Dean's play Paul Robeson in the inaugural performance of the New Brunswick Performing Arts Center.

#04/09 #01/23

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writtenbyandria · 4 years

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KIRA+DOMINIC — 02

The unrelenting summer sun beamed onto Kira’s exposed back, causing her to shift throughout the duration of her sitting on the bleachers. One hand nursed a bottle of water while the other continuously smoothed over the kempt cornrows dangling past the nape of her neck. The style she hadn’t sported since her elementary school days took some time getting used to due to the tightness forming at her scalp. Huffs swept past her lips riddled in tinted lip balm, her attention rearing from the ongoing basketball game.

When the team her brother Lawrence played for somehow foiled the setup to score from the free-throw line, the recurrence of regret set in; immediately Kira wished she took her friend Autumn Nelson up on her offer to lounge around her pool all afternoon. Releasing yet another huff, Kira placed her water bottle beside her; her finger briefly grazed over a hand belonging to the occupant of the space to her left.

A toothy smirk played the foreground to an immaculate complexion similar to the unrefined cocoa powder her grandmother sifted over the top of her homemade cakes. Under the afternoon sun the pigment of his skin deepened, and appeared richer than it had the moment Kira’s eyes initially settled on him.

“Sorry. I didn’t see you sitting there.” Kira said apologetically. She gathered the personalized purple water bottle dampened with condensation and placed it in between her exposed thighs. The wetness surrounding the aluminum sports’ bottle temporarily cooled her fervent skin, quelling her frustrations for making the rash decision to sit out in the heat for a majority of the afternoon.

This summer, the directors of the annual summer tournament were making strides to incorporate other other promising summer league teams into the scheduling. Teams hailing from other counties were typically unauthorized to compete; the longstanding rule inevitably prevented outsiders to recognize the athletic prowess the players possessed.

The new band of players were ultimately hidden gems; undiscovered talents that were often kept under wraps.

“Nah, you good.” The young boy murmured. His deep baritone startled Kira upon her hearing the bass-filled utterance.

Boys as young as she presumed him to be hardly possessed voices that deep. Even the voices belonging to the guys she attended school with hadn’t had such resonance as the no-name sitting beside her. “You starin’.”

“What?”

“I said you starin’, ma.” The young man repeated evenly. A round of snickers pervaded the sweltering air, emitting from a group of slightly older looking guys he must’ve known.

The gruffness lacing his words prompted Kira to apologize yet again, her attention reverted back to the ongoing basketball game that had finally reached halftime. Kira’s brother Lawrence retreated to the respected benches positioned on the court’s opposite end. He and a few of his teammates crowded around the water cooler, filling the provided wax paper cups generously with Gatorade. Kira's eyes remained affixed to her brother’s lanky frame as he goofed around with classmates she often spotted idling around their kitchen or living room after school, and sighed inwardly as the guy beside her began playing music directly from his bulky black iPhone lacking a proper case.

Rap -- the type of music that her parents chided she and her brother for listening to, the type of rap that hardly made it to radio due to the raunchy misogynistic lyrics and obscenities -- penetrated her hearing.

Before Kira’s mind could register her forthcoming actions, her head bopped along to the piano cadence easily muddled by the lyrics spewed out in a sing-songy rhythm. The lyrics bellowed out in a throaty rasp were vulgar, albeit, but the almost melodic approach to the familiar beat was infectious.

Kira could feel the eyes belonging to not only the young man sitting to her right but the guys seated behind him as well. Her body halted in its aimless swaying while under their watchful stares; her heightened cheeks turned a tinge a red. “I like the beat.” Kira bashfully admitted simultaneous to hearing the referee blow his whistle. Kira’s brother Lawrence and his teammates retreated back onto the court subsequent to tossing the paper cup into the nearby trash can. “I don’t think I’ve heard of him before.” Kira murmured.

A look of amusement etched its way across her face when the young man seated beside her titled his phone in her direction, unveiling the screen displayed the album artwork of a man sporting cornrows just as thick as hers with a fitted cap concealing the top of them. Amidst a horde of cash that had been photoshopped onto the cover art the rapper’s moniker was emblazoned in bold lettering. “...Young,” Kira read aloud, “Ah, Young Travie.”

Her warm and earnest smile was met with one the young man meagerly offered in return.

“He ain’t mainstream. Not yet, at least.” The young man informed.

As the group of guys averted their attention elsewhere, the stare between her and the boy with impeccable dark skin never faltered.

“Kira.” She mumbled.

“Huh?” The boy muttered.

“Kira -- my name’s Kira.”

He nodded sparingly. “Dominic.”

Her mind often wondered to thoughts of him.

Even in the height of merriment, shaking him was proven to be a difficult feat to achieve.

Whenever the opportunity to travel arose, Kira toyed with the idea of running into him somewhere.

Maybe at a mall shopping for kicks.

Or maybe, by chance, they’d run into each other at a random grocery store where they would ultimately have to engage in conversation.

The optimist in her would’ve wanted nothing more than to reunite with him if only for a brief moment.

However, from a realistic standpoint, Kira Mosley was almost certain she and Dominic Parker would never cross paths again.

Her manicured hand enclosed around the highball glass containing the disproportionate amount of vodka and tonic she flagged down the slim bartender for; the incessant urge to guzzle down the glass’ contents grew dire the longer she pondered on what her mother formerly regarded as Kira’s delayed stage of rebellion.

A slight chortle escaped the twenty-eight year old as she brought the glass coated in condensation to her lips and chugged half of the lime garnished beverage before placing it back on top of the sopping wet napkin the bartender provided.

Lipstick, a vibrant shade of currant, smudged the glass’ rim.

“Celebrating?”

A voice queried from behind her, belonging to a man sporting a suit she noticed upon her arrival to the swank rooftop bar. Her eyes lingered on him only briefly, almost as if she recognized him from somewhere.

Kira shifted atop the lucite stool. Hints of her skin exposed by the burgundy jumpsuit she wore felt sticky, courtesy of the L.A. smog.

Kira took a moment to ponder on the unknown man’s inquiry, confirming his suspicions with a subtle nod. “I am, actually.”

“Well, would you mind if I joined you?”

“I wouldn’t. Have a seat” She replied after a short pause. From the adjacent barstool Kira she retrieved her clutch and smartphone.

With intent she watched as the caramel complected man unbuttoned his blazer; his muscular build easily made out through the cotton white button-down and navy trousers. “You like whiskey?”

“I don’t dislike it.” Kira answered blankly, catching the barest hint of a smile creeping up the side of the man’s lips. He waved down the bartender, his eyes solely trained upon Kira as she finished the rest of her vodka and tonic with haste.

In under five minutes, two Manhattans rested before them. The man sporting the tailored suit waited for Kira to reach for one of the cocktails before he sought out to do the same.

“Cheers.”

In unison, the two generously sipped from their glasses.

The initial sharp taste of the whiskey and vermouth combination burned the back of Kira’s throat, but she recovered and downed a great amount of it.

“If I may ask, what are you celebrating?”

She set the glass down, her tongue ran over the fullness of her slightly parted lips, savoring the bittersweet aftertaste. “A new business venture.” Kira sparingly divulged. She had yet to inform her parents of the lucrative finalizations pertaining to the latest venture. She wasn’t about to be as forthcoming about her business matters with some random simply because he ordered her a drink. Kira tucked one of her fine tendrils behind her pierced ear, revealing the faded crescent moon and stars behind her dainty lobe. “I would tell you more, but I don’t wanna jump the gun and speak too soon. The ink on the contracts haven’t dried yet.” She fibbed.

“I understand.” The man retorted, smoothing his hand down the length of his pants. “Where are my manners? I’m Omari -- Omari Grant.”

He extended his hand forward, the width of his palm nearly covered Kira’s entire hand.

“Kira. Kira Mosley since we’re being all formal.” She initiated the separation of their ongoing handshake to sip the remaining brown contents idling the bottom of the rock glass. “Omari Grant --,” she murmured to herself, “-- I’ve heard that name before. Where have I heard that name?” As her mind trailed off into deep thought, her lip stained with a ruddy red hue embedded itself between her teeth. “ The Essence 2013 Men’s issue. You landed the cover feature.” Kira muttered faintly. “You had me, for a second. I, uh, almost didn’t recognize you without the locs.”

She smirked once noticing the kempt tapered fade that made him look even more polished than she recounted.

During a brief period of contributing content exclusively through the publication’s website she was lucky enough to land an opportunity to write a feature on the infamous Baltimore Ravens quarterback who earned the franchise their second Super Bowl championship on the heels of winning announcing his retirement.

“I wrote that feature. Among other pieces I wrote up until that point, that feature about you was regarded as one of the publication’s most raved about exclusives that year.”

“It was nicely written.”

“It was a fixture in cleaning up your image, is what it was.” Kira replied, and pushed the empty rock glass aside. A tight, contemptuous grin etched its way across her face. “And it wasn’t what I initially wrote. Your PR team practically strong-armed me into rewriting the feature hours before my deadline. They threatened to contact the magazine’s editor to complain if I didn’t rewrite it.”

Kira’s statement hung in the air while Omari continued to nurse the chilled Manhattan; her inberiation set in as time ticked away.

“Perhaps I should’ve known better than to email your people an outline of what the article entailed. That was my fault for being so foolish.”

Failing to hear Omari Grant utter anything pertaining to the power moves that could’ve potentially tarnished Kira’s reputation and livelihood, she padded over the bar’s surface in search of her belongings. When Kira recovered her iPhone and clutch, she paid her bar tab which consisted of the two vodka and tonic beverages she drank prior to Omari joining her.

Rising onto the heels of her staggering ankle-strap sandals, Kira ambled towards the entrance leading to the rooftop’s elevator embankment. She navigated past the stragglers pouring in by the groups.

Omari Grant steered close, however. His cologne wafted into her nose before she felt the immense presence of the two-hundred and fifty pound retired quarterback behind her. Rather than uttering a disingenuous apology for enforcing her to revise her original write-up and pander some sugar-coated PR orchestrated bullshit to the public, Omari placed his hand on her exposed shoulders, grasping them gently as the elevator doors diverged and granted Kira entry inside the cab.

An inward sigh slip pasted her lips when he shuffled in behind her.

While in the elevator Omari Grant never expressed his remorse.

Kira did, however, hear his blatant advances to accompany him to his hotel suite.

Slightly buzzed, albeit, she willingly obliged.

The same man whose team successfully disintegrated his former controversial reputation of misconduct both on and off the field, had ushered her into his suite, without a care. The same man whose hired professionals could have potentially severed her professional relationship with one of the few respected black publications she frequently worked for attempted to engage in awkward small talk by the balcony doors; a breathtaking view of the ocean quelled Kira’s flourishing nerves as Omari gathered her tightly wound curls and sloppily kissed her neck. She flinched beneath his touch and at the same time welcomed him to remove her snug jumpsuit after she removed her heels.

By the end of the heated encounter that took place on the floor, while riding out the orgasm coursing through her, Kira’s body completely stilled upon hearing the only two words she desired to ever hear from Omari Grant.

Kira had no ounce of care to hear how pretty he thought she was, or how great of a lay she happened to be.

A wave of emotions afflicted her when he finally uttered that he was sorry for placing her in that tough predicament. She took satisfaction in finally hearing the retired quarterback’s apology for the brash power play he subjected her to simply because of her position.

His near breathless expression delivered with mild gawking at Kira’s naked frame diluted the moment, however.

The act in itself made her feel dirty and even a bit foolish for screwing the man and receiving a half-assed apology afterward.

Instead of joining him in the suite’s bedroom he retreated to, Kira redressed and made a beeline for the door.

Kira failed to bid Omari a proper farewell

#kira+dominic #fiction

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youngcornbread · 4 years

Photo

Black History Month: “Legends Never Die”

Article by Young Cornbread featuring Blake Breeze

Photography by Quentin Lavon & D’Andre Campbell

Meet Blake Breeze, a 20 year-old musician/producer from Atlanta, Georgia.

For the first episode of “why?™” Blake and I visited the world-famous Rucker Park in Harlem, Manhattan.

For Black History Month, Blake and I decided to commemorate the life and legacy of Holcombe Rucker.

Born on March 2, 1926, Holcombe grew up in the historically black neighborhood of Harlem in Manhattan, New York during the thriving era of the Harlem Renaissance. Holcombe’s early life started with struggle; without parents, Holcombe gained much of his insight and life lessons from his grandmother.

During Holcombe’s early teenage years he attended Benjamin Franklin High School and played basketball as a talented 6-foot-3 guard. According to the Landmarks Preservation Commission (NYC.gov) Benjamin Franklin High School was initially intended to help the Italian immigrant community in East Harlem, but shortly after the school’s opening in 1942, demographics swiftly changed with more Black & Puerto Rican students attending the high school. The change led to the high schools’ disinvestment, thus, mirroring the ever-growing social-economical problems of Harlem.

In the middle of Holcombe’s sophomore year, he dropped out of school to join the United States Army for World War II. Once discharged in 1946, the 21-year old married his girlfriend Mary Rucker-Thomas and started a family. Struggling to make ends meet, Holcombe had trouble finding a stable job and escaping poverty.

The difficulties of Holcombe’s situation instilled a powerful sense of dedication to push forward, and with the support of his wife Mary, he was able to secure a custodial job at a New Jersey bank.

In 1947, Holcombe developed a youth basketball league and emphasized the importance of compassion, books, and basketball. His focus propelled him to finish his high school diploma and receive a bachelor’s degree from City College in New York.

Understanding the social atmosphere of his neighborhood, Holcombe’s vision exceeded far beyond the basketball court and into the personal lives of the children he mentored. The mentorship proved insightful as many student-athletes used Holcombe’s teachings as a guide to maneuver the hardships of Harlem.

Children like Bob McCullough and Peter Sherman, both young aspiring basketball players are success stories who initially struggled to find their way in life. McCullough proclaimed his life was going “nowhere” after being arrested at 11 years-old because of gang activity. With Holcombe’s wisdom and guidance, McCullough turned his life around to receive a scholarship to Benedict College in South Carolina. McCullough dominated his entire college career with an average of 28 points per game.

McCullough was drafted by the Cincinnati Royals now known as the Sacramento Kings, but was cut from the team for basketball icon Oscar Robertson. McCullough continued to pursue his education receiving a master’s degree and following in Rucker’s footsteps to become a counselor and lecturer.

The success of Rucker’s basketball league attracted the likes of college recruiters, which helped solidify important connections. Over 700 student-athletes were able to secure college scholarships because of Holcombe’s efforts, therefore, many of those student-athletes excelled to become doctors, lawyers, and educators.

Mary Rucker-Thomas, Holcombe’s beloved wife truly supported all of his endeavors because he was the father his community so desperately needed. Mary understood the value of Holcombe’s work, and she diligently took care of their children, which speaks volumes of her unconditional love.

In 1965, Holcombe Rucker passed away at the age of 38 because of lung cancer. Holcombe’s legacy will forever be felt throughout the world from his compassion to life lessons, his presence is always appreciated.

“Each One Teach One” - Famous African proverb

Blake Breeze - One Love

Talking to Blake at Rucker Park, I learned a lot about his debut project “One Love.”

Blake spoke about his New York City influences from legendary artists like Jay Z, Mase, and DMX. Visiting Rucker Park created a surreal moment because I was unaware that Mase had provided much of the inspiration for “One Love.”

I found this ironic because Mase is from Harlem, which explains the essence of situations becoming “full circle,” considering Holcombe Rucker’s influence stemmed from the social-economical conditions of Harlem.

Blake was extremely enthusiastic about sharing his love for New York legends and the importance of “Harlem World,” Mase’s debut album.

The creative process of making timeless music drives Blake’s ambition for greatness as he produces all of his music; a true form of artistic independence. Blake mentioned he starts each song with the production aspect, constructing soulful instrumentals to record his witty lyrics and infectious hooks and melodies.

Using an MPC sampler and loading drum patterns into his computer, Blake has found much success implementing his own personal style with every song he creates. His knowledge of music is backed by quality tunes that keeps his listeners wanting more with every track.

As of December of 2019, Blake Breeze explained the process of writing lyrics held back his creativity and ability to release songs.

“Know Your Name,” the lead single for Blake’s debut “One Love” showcases his natural sense of crafting a timeless record. In my opinion, I view Blake’s music with the likes of Kanye West, Travis Scott, or Pi’erre Bourne. Individuals that truly understand creating music at the highest level of quality.

Improvisation has become vital for Blake, as he mentioned he knows which beat he’ll freestyle to within the first 20-seconds of the track. From there, his creativity builds the track from his life experiences and sheer talent.

Blake emphasized the importance of production because he initially struggled with crafting instrumentals earlier in his music career. Over time, Blake truly surprised himself as his skills began to cultivate and continue to grow everyday.

A true rapper at heart, Blake sets his intentions to inspire the youth to focus on lyricism, adding he wants “people to start rapping for real again.”

Personally, I agree with this statement, and believe Blake’s vision will help our generation achieve that goal.

“When you’re hearing actual rapping, actual lyricism, you can connect.” Blake Breeze

The balance between incredible production and superior lyricism is tough for many artists, but Blake Breeze can truly do both. In his opinion, the two elements of production and lyricism can separate an artist from their peers. Blake believes the key to longevity lies in the artist’s ability to become well-versed within music.

“One Love” Blake Breeze’s debut gives the listener, excellent lyricism through honest reflections and hard-hitting punchlines.

Wrapping up our conversation, Blake stated sports and documentaries have always served as a major inspiration as well. Much of the goals Blake embarks on helping the younger generation and being an individual of positive influence.

At the age of 20 years-old, the similarities between Blake Breeze and Holcombe Rucker are apparent. Two young men willing to take those extra steps to provide leadership and compassion for their respective artistry.

As a community, we must respect the young women and men taking those strides each and every day.

Much respect to Blake Breeze!

Links:

Stream “One Love” - http://hyperurl.co/30fou0

Released by HeartBox Records LLC

I would like to give a personal thanks to Blake Breeze, Quentin Lavon, Michael Outlaw, and D’Andre Campbell for making this vision possible.

Edited by Alison Preston

#why?™#blakebreeze #holcomberucker #youngcornbread #ruckerpark #harlemworld #onelove

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citizenscreen · 4 years

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This week marks eight years since Once Upon a Screen has been in existence. Sometimes it feels like a lifetime, and at other times it’s as though the years have flown by. Overall it’s been an enjoying ride thus far with periods of frustration strewn in for good measure. As I admitted a few years ago, I am at once both shocked at my stick-to-itivenessand happy I still enjoy sharing my thoughts on all things classic on this blog. It remains an important respite from all the negativity that surrounds us.

Before I get to my celebrations of 8, I must recognize the friends and bloggers who make it a point to stop in on occasion. You inspire me to keep going and to have fun at it.

As is the usual custom for these types of occasions, I begin this celebration with a presentation of gifts appropriate for the occasion. Gifts suitable for an eighth anniversary are either pottery or bronze. I’m happy to accept the following pottery items on my own behalf. You may notice the pottery is adorned by a movie star in each.

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88 years ago it was 1931. Here are 8 of my favorite films from that year:

Chaplin’s City Lights

Wale’s Frankenstein

Browning’s Dracula

Lang’s M

Brown’s A Free Soul

Capra’s Platinum Blonde

LeRoy’s Five Star Final

Brown’s Possessed

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Actors with 8 Academy Award Nominations:

Pacino

O’Toole

Page

Lemmon

Brando

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Eight this-n-thats:

Behind the eight ball: Behind the eight ball means placed in a difficult situation from which one is unlikely to escape. The idiom behind the eight ball was first printed in American newspaper stories in the 1920s and was derived from the game of pool. (Grammarist) Magic eight ball is another common term loosely related to the first. Here, we get to know the future.

The 8-track tape – A magnetic tape cartridge technology introduced by Lear Jet in 1964 as Stereo 8, although widely known by its 8-track moniker. The Stereo 8 was an 8-track version of the 4-track Muntz Autostereo, the first commercial music player for a car. Stereo 8 allowed two stereo recordings on the same tape providing a similar experience to flipping over an LP record of the era. The 1966 Ford Mustang was the first car with a built-in 8-track player, and aftermarket units became available. (pc.mag)

One over the eight – a British expression that is used to say that a person (or yourself) has had one drink too many. It is first served in the early 20th century and may have originated from the notion that having just one more than eight drinks will make you—drunk

A piece of eight – an old Spanish silver dollar, or peso, which once had the value of eight reals (dimes) and was therefore stamped with a large figure 8. In Colonial America, the piece of eight was adopted as legal tender, and it remained so as late as the Civil War. Its value was almost the same as that of the United States dollar.

Eight-hundred-pound gorilla: any formidable obstacle

The Beatles with Eight Days a Week

The Eighth Wonder of the World

My favorite sports #8 is Yogi Berra (May 12, 1925 – September 22, 2015). Berra threw right-handed and batted left-handed. His number was retired in 1972.

A mainstay for the most dominating teams in history, the Yankee that played from the end of World War II until the early 1960’s. Although he never led the league in a single major offensive category, he was just the third man to win three Most Valuable Player awards. Selected to play in 15 successive All-Star games. Played on 14 pennant winners and 10 World Champions, more than anyone in history. Led Yankees to the 1964 pennant as manager. Elected to the Hall of Fame in 1972. (MLB.com)

Pitcher Don Larsen (r), of the New York Yankees, wraps his arms around catcher Yogi Berra #8 after the final pitch of Game 5 of the 1956 World Series against the Brooklyn Dodgers. Photo taken on October 8.

◊

8 1930s movies with Eight:

Oliver Hardy, Mae Busch, and Stan Laurel in OLIVER THE EIGHTH (1934)

Cukor’s The Women, there are 8 of them:

◊

With that I extend a happy anniversary wish to Once Upon a Screen! To ensure eight blessings to it, you and yours here are 8 Jimmy Stewarts. With him I send best wishes and heartfelt appreciation for your continued support.

Aurora

Celebrating an Eighth Anniversary This week marks eight years since Once Upon a Screen has been in existence. Sometimes it feels like a lifetime, and at other times it's as though the years have flown by.

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notesfromthebench · 4 years

Text

Letter 1

Dear Friend,

I felt unintelligent for the majority of my school life. Specifically though, from the age of 12, I felt hugely inferior to everyone else in my class and my year group. Looking back now, I can see that I wasn’t given the tools to truly understand how being dyslexic, and dealing with (as of that time undiagnosed) severe mental health problems, would affect my ability to learn. What appeared easy to grasp and do for my friends would seem impossible to me. I would come home from school and not do my homework, as I felt that there was no point working on something which I didn’t understand and would be incorrect. I knew I would fail, so I did nothing; I didn’t want to really set my mind to working independently at home, away from the help of may peers and my teachers, to ultimately have my worst fears confirmed: that I wasn’t good enough, and never would be.

The feeling of being less than, and never enough, would live inside me, corrupting my every thought, until I turned 18 or 19. To my younger self, there was just one way to release this, and that was to physically give it room to escape my body. I had been self-harming on and off from the age of 11, but it grew to a near nightly ritual when I was 14. I would come home from school, head upstairs to my room, shut the door, put my schoolbag down on the floor, head over to the back corner and begin. In the span of five or ten minutes, I could work out my frustrations about my day into my skin. I would attend school with arms and thighs covered in cuts, scars, burns and bruises. I was cautious, and to my knowledge, no teacher ever found out – or if they did, they never said anything. Looking back, it’s laughable that to me that, at the time, I thought I wasn’t unwell- I knew that hurting yourself wasn’t normal, but I also was aware that there were hundreds of people online with far more dramatic injuries than myself, or friends who were also struggling: I wasn’t that bad. Nevertheless, I knew that what I was doing to myself was abnormal, and should be kept secret. I would wear my PE skort under my uniform to hide my thighs, and I would play sports in my school jumper- changing quickly, in order to expose my arms for the shortest possible period of time.

Throughout the school day, I would go to a bathroom stall and just stare at what I had done to myself, proud of the fact that I was finally taking control and punishing myself for not being good enough. I would skip lunch, saying that I had homework to complete, and I would just stay on the floor of my form room, listening to music, and running through every reason as to why I was an awful human being. And this created a cycle. I would head to class, where I would be reprimanded for not completing my homework, and have my flaws pointed out to me in red pen, and to me, I would take this as confirmation that every time I hurt myself, that I deserved it, and that it would ultimately help me. I had literally fallen into a routine of self destruction; I had fallen into having a fully fledged addiction without really realising it. I was convinced that I was in control- hell, the element of control was the appeal. However, I would then notice scars fading under new ones, and I would feel a huge sense of dread and loss, and rush to replace them. My greatest fear was that someone would notice and make me stop – I needed this to function. Once, when sat in my safe space, against the radiator in my form room, a group of people were sat around me talking about self harm. I remember being petrified when one girl, sat in front of me, grabbed my right hand and rolled up my sleeve. I still can vividly feel the relief I felt that she had selected the wrong arm. However, that event made me more manipulative, and far better at hiding it. I would lie about injuries, claiming sprains in order to wear a bandage over my arms, I would permanently hold my jumper sleeve down by my fingers, I would cover my wrist in plasters, under my watch and wristbands.

I’m so lucky that my scars have faded the way that they have, and although the ones on my thighs are noticeable, I am able to conceal the ones of my arms with make-up easily enough. However, all these memories have been dredged up in the past few days. Lately, the weather has been getting colder and we’re heading towards fall. But with colder weather, comes the fact that older faded scars become more prevalent on the skin, especially being as fair as I am. Brushing my teeth, and groggily leaning against the sink for support, I glanced down and noticed that there were patches of my arm looking darker than usual. After heading to collect my glasses, I saw the remnants of a scar I had all but forgotten about (unless dredging through old journals, or in a particularly difficult spiral of shame and depression). Anyone could see it, and not notice the significance, but memories came flooding back.

When I was 16, after getting a mock GCSE paper back and gaining a mark considerably lower than my friends, I went home in shame, and carved the word stupid into my forearm. I remember it vividly, how calm I was, despite falling apart and screaming on the inside. I was methodical. I remember thinking I wanted it to be ‘unintelligent’ but I was scared that it wouldn’t fit, or that I would spell it wrong, and that I would be saddled with a spelling mistake blazoned on my arm for the rest of my life, validating my lack of intelligence to all who saw. I settled with stupid- this thought process was further confirmation to me that this brand was exactly what I needed. I remember finishing and being very proud of myself. I cleaned myself up, and settled in for a night of sitting on the internet, and neglecting the mounting pile of homework I was studiously ignoring. It wasn’t until I lay in bed that night that I realised that the very next day. I had another HPV jab due at school. Panic filled me. I grabbed my journal, and came up with plans of action of how to hide my forearm when being injected by a nurse in my upper bicep. Bullet points to detail how I was planning on lying about my dominant hand, wearing an arm brace and saying that I had slammed it into the car door, or faking illness and saying that I couldn’t have the vaccine that day. It was as though I were writing a shopping list. Seeing that now, it hurts to know that i was so isolated, and yet so convinced that this behaviour was rational. I was so proud of myself for coming up with my backup plan of wearing the brace, as the nurse who administered my vaccine that day said that it did not matter that I was supposedly left-handed, and proceeded to roll up my left sleeve. Still, after having the vaccine, I went to the little seating area, and, whilst the other people there were helping a classmate who was so terrified she had brought her stuffed toy frog to accompany her that day, I quickly rolled down my sleeve and felt safe in the knowledge that I had gotten away with it. I had outsmarted everyone, and continued to hide my destructive routine.

I’m 23. I left my home city and had the greatest time at University, and whilst relapse is an inevitable part of recovery, I can look back and see how far I’ve come, and realise all the hard work I had to put in, in order to claw my way out of that mental space which would worsen dramatically before it would get better. And, I’m not stupid. I categorically am not. Yes, I need extra time, and I need to put in more work than someone who doesn’t have dyslexia or any other learning disability, but that doesn’t make me stupid. It means that I’m willing to work my butt off in order to get where I want to go. It functions as a daily reminder that, regardless of the fact that there are days when it’s harder to locate than others, I’m determined to get to a place where I’m happy, both career wise, and mentally.

I am also old enough, and have enough hindsight and reassurance, that just because someone else is a lot smarter than you, it doesn’t make you any less intelligent. I would never dream of conflating a grade on a paper or test now with my personal worth. It wouldn’t even cross my mind. Around this time, I read Harvey and found this quotation, which in a way only a 16 year old could, displayed it across my social media platforms: “Years ago my mother used to say to me, she’d say, […] ‘In this world, Elwood, you must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant.’ Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant.” Look at me, I’m philosophical and I read. Maybe I was hugely missing the point of what Elwood was attempting to convey here, or I was setting a goal for myself, either way, it’s laughable to look back at 16 year old me, obsessed with this quote, and thinking that I had also chosen being oh so pleasant. I was cruel to myself, and was permanently grumpy due to lack of sleep and exhaustion. I was not a nice teenager. Nonetheless, at some point over the last 4 years, I chose to be oh so pleasant, and my intelligence didn’t falter, but grew, when in an environment in which I was wholly supported. I leaned that, although I was so unbelievably privileged and lucky to have been given the education I had, an environment which strives for academic excellence, and prides itself on league table positioning was not one in which I could thrive. Whilst this is obviously beneficial to lots of students, it’s taken a long time to not feel guilty in saying that the system that prioritises those things was not one which was helpful to me, especially when I consider the handful of teachers who really did positively impact my life. And that’s ok. People learn in different ways. It just took me a little bit longer, and a little bit more work, than everyone else.

From,

Your Friend on the Bench

#blog #writing #notesfromthebench #writer #letter #confessional #tw self harm

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