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ohnoyoonoh · 5 years ago

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PREVIEW of PHILIA & EROS

author -; @ohnoyoonoh

genre. au -; highschool au, based on/inspired by the movie. the half of it. coming of age.

pairing -; lee jeno x oc, huang renjun x oc, jeno x oc x renjun, renjun x jeno (ish)

synopsis -; a story of where someone asks a writer to write them a love letter for the girl they like except the writer likes this girl, too. it's an adventure of lessons in friendship and first love with renjun, jeno, and hwayoung in the town of dalgleish, oregon.

author’s note -; sneak peek into my upcoming story with jeno and renjun. i was actually very passionate in this story. this is the first story in a while that will be tagged with networks, yayyy lol lmk if you wanna be part of the taglist

warnings -; love triangle, strong language, minor bullying, whole story includes touches on sexuality, touches on sex but not committed, underage drinking and drug use, mention of minor character death (renjun’s mom), kissing, long ass story lemme tell you that

word count -; (preview) 4.8k and it’s only the beginning

Love. Love certainly comes in different forms. According to C.S. Lewis, there are four types that people focus on: Storge, Philia, Eros, and Agape. Omitting agape as many do not believe in the Christian faith, the other three simply play a role in everyone’s upbringing whether they notice the existence of these loves in their life or not. Following the words of Lewis, we would be obliged to love every single day without a choice whether it’s to us or seeing it with others. We see love wherever we go. But in this society, do we really know what love is? Love is not as straightforward as we thought it would be unlike adding and subtracting in math. Love is strange but whatever the perspective by the person, it could also be the most beautiful thing in the world.

And that is not how you write a world-class essay to make you pass an honors class.

Huang Renjun began to press the backspace of the conclusion to the last essay he needed to write for the English class. It wasn’t his essay that he was writing but one that was in his queue of his homework services. The list was stacked with requests of the take on C.S. Lewis’s Four Loves for Mrs. Lee’s Junior English Honors class, but the teacher could care less that the students cheated in the class in the peewee town of Dalgleish in the state of Oregon.

Dalgleish didn’t have much except for the Pretty Douglas Fir trees decorated around the boundaries of the town. It was fitting as the Dalgleish basically meant green field. There weren’t many open fields but looking at the town from above, the amount of trees make it look like a green space. That was one of the things that Renjun enjoyed seeing, the nature that the town offered. It was calming, least to say. Losing himself into the natura was a good getaway from the extensive labor he needed to do to support him and his family. His family consisted of his father and younger sister, Mei. His mother passed away due to breast cancer when Renjun was thirteen and Mei was ten.

That was the reason why he started his business of the homework services, but it also extended into adding more part time jobs to continue a decent salary for a high school student. His father never asked him to do any of these jobs because he never wanted to overwork Rejnun and his sister during high school. He wanted to make sure that they could focus primarily on their school work and occasional side jobs to include in their résumés and transcripts. Though due to the passing of his wife, he wasn’t able to commit to his computer science career and waived off the successful path to enter a minimum wage job.

Renjun understood the reason for his father’s lack of working, which is why he stepped up a little more than a teenager should carry on their shoulders. He loved his family too much to not do so. Which is why, he was checking off the list of names on his queue for the homework that needed to be handed that day.

Zhong Chenle

Eleanor Lee

Amie Quill

Wong Yukhei

Eugene Mills and the list going on.

He calculated the amount that was due and the total, making sure that no one paid him less. He didn’t mind if someone paid more, as it would be beneficial to any extra expenses that needed to be paid off. “$20 per essay, mm.. $200. That should be enough to cover the water bill and the groceries.”

Mei nodded, writing the total on the sticky notes that littered all over the mirrored wall. The wall full of sticky notes for the week logging any needed tasks to be finished. Wherever there weren’t any sticky notes were old pictures of the family and memories in their upbringing or new polaroid pictures of Renjun and Mei. It was a nice reminder of the moments that were captured in the midst of the hard every days.

“Hey, uh, Renjun, I was wondering if I could go to homecoming?” Mei questioned, breaking the silence as Renjun revised the to-do lists while editing his own essay. He forgot to do so since the amount of requests to do their homework was unbelievable. The only downside of the homework service was that everyone requests last minute. “Renjun.”

“Sorry, I forgot to do my homework,” he snapped his head up, letting his sister know that she had his undivided attention. Mostly. “Uh, what did you ask?”

“I was just asking if I could go to homecoming, I’ll even work extra hours to pay for my dress. I’ll even pick up some of the homework in your requests,” Mei pleaded, not verbally but through her eyes. Renjun stared at her, wondering if she was serious. It wasn’t uncommon for freshmen to attend high school events, especially someone like his sister. Mei was and still is the type of person to enjoy the events that school offers. It was the perfect opportunity to spend time with her friends and escape the hours of working. That was what Renjun recalled during their late night talks as they pleated the dumplings for their lunches for the rest of the week.

“Renjun, stop spacing out,” Mei shook his shoulder, seeing if it would wake him up out of his trance.

“Uh, yeah yeah. You can help me with some of the homework and take over my shift for the next two days at the library, is that okay?” Renjun offered. He knew he would have felt bad if he said no. Knowing his sister, she would either give up on working and not get a new dress, or give up working and not going to homecoming all together.

Mei agreed, nodding her head profusely and quickly embracing her brother. Renjun stood there, reluctantly wrapping his arms around her. Mei rarely showed affection to him which is why he seemed so surprised at the actions. Nonetheless, he appreciated the love. God. Love. Love. Love. His essay. His eyes widened, releasing from the grasp of his sister, “Crap, I need to finish the last paragraph of my essay.”

The sound of the alarm ringing through the kitchen, notifying the Huang siblings that it was time for them to head to school. Renjun groaned, wanting to bang his head against the wall. He shoved the folder with the homeworks that he finished inside of his backpack while tossing Mei her lunch. He grabbed the pen that hung off of the wall, checking off the sticky note that was made a week before to remind him of the work to do. Renjun rechecked everything once more to be certain that he hadn’t skipped over anything. Assuring himself that he didn’t miss anything, he grabbed the keys of his dad’s car and made his way out the door. Before exiting the house, his dad seemed to be missing from his usual spot on the couch but knew he was home due to his shoes still at the door.

“Mei, is dad still home?” Renjun questioned as he sat on the floor to put his shoes on. Mei turned around to face her brother and nodded, “He’s taking a shower and already made his food.”

Renjun nodded, slinging his backpack over his shoulders to adjust the straps as he wore it, “Are you ready to go?”

“I’ve been ready, I don’t know about you,” Mei sarcastically retorted. Renjun scoffed, standing up and opening the door to allow his sister to go out first. As they walked outside to get to the car, Renjun playfully kicked her leg causing her to quickly turn around to punch him. He quickly ran to the car to escape her wrath.

“Alright, I’ll see you later. Don’t forget your shift at the library,” the male informed his sister as they both entered the school. Mei groaned but nodded, saying goodbye to her brother as she parted ways to join her friends. Now, Renjun was stuck to being a high class loner for the rest of the day. He never made any friends, well ones that didn’t last long. Though he was content with that. It was better than having ones that would backstab you or talk behind your back. For being a small town, Dalgleish didn’t have much to offer with people. So, people created their own drama. Luckily in all of the Huang siblings’ time in Dalgleish, they never had any mentions of being in drama. They only were the butt of the joke of their low-class dad, but Mei and Renjun never paid attention, so the joke died before it was even alive. That belonged to the top of the hierarchy in their school. But, Renjun could care less about them and rather focused on his studies and jobs.

“Here is yours and Chenle’s homework,” Renjun flipped through the countless essays in the folder, handing Lucas the needed homework.

“Ahh, thanks, let me send you the money now. I’m also paying for Chenle’s, just in case you wonder why there’s extra,” Lucas pulled his phone out to send the money through the Venmo app.

Feeling his phone buzz, Renjun took his phone out to check that the amount was correct. Confirming that it was right, well it was actually over. Chenle and Lucas were always kind enough to pay extra. They always said it was just for the hard work that he gives since they were his first customers and the growth of the services. “Thanks, Lucas.”

Lucas smiled before heading his way for his class. After he left, Renjun continued to make his way to all of the students that needed their work for the day. He scheduled different locations and times around the school to make sure that his contraband work wasn’t known to the faculty of the school. The only one who knew was their English and Physics teachers. Mrs. Lee and Dr. Jean.

Mrs. Lee immediately knew that the essays by the students in her class weren’t written that perfectly. The growth from one essay to another seemed to be developed overnight. Not trying to question her students, they were bright but most that had the perfect scored work weren’t the brightest. Knowing this, Mrs. Lee found out after give and take, she realized that the work was by Renjun. To let him know that she knew, she asked to conference with him after class. The only thing that Renjun grasped from the conversation is that she blatantly called her students stupid when it came to essays. Renjun agreed but defended them that they were smart in other areas and needed to strengthen their levels in the writing department.

And for Dr. Jean, he just didn’t care.

“So, who’d you write for this time? I just don’t wanna read the essays to waste my time to give them A’s,” Mrs. Lee sat in her chair, sipping on her cup of coffee as she watched Renjun pack his stuff up so he could attend his next class.

He dismissed his teacher’s comment, placing his essay on her desk, “I’ll give you a list later. Oh, I also need a recommendation from my favorite teacher.” He smiled, setting a blank recommendation letter for the college he’s applying to on her desk.

He watched her scan over the document, only for her face to scrunch up in disgust. He reflected her expression with his own face, confused as to why she looked repulsed, “What is it now?”

“I don’t know, you could have chosen a better school with your grades and get in,” she tossed the paper into her neat stack before grabbing the essays and shelving it.

Renjun shrugged, knowing that the reason is that he was afraid to leave his sister and dad. More so, his sister. He didn’t want to leave all of the responsibilities to his sister. To delve even farther, the responsibility of taking care of their father. He wasn’t sure if Mei was ready to do it. A lot of people may wonder why he even thinks of his father, but his dad was still family. Their dad may not be in the best state and not pulling his weight as the head of the family, but he still worked every so often. Their dad was lucky enough to be friends with the owner of his job, and the owner understood the hardships that he was going through. The consequence of his lack in effort fell on his children.

“I just think it would be better if you attend some other college, maybe, I don’t know,” Mrs. Lee retrieved another document on a clipboard, handing it to him.

He grabbed the clipboard, wondering what it was. An application to University of Oregon. He laughed, tearing his eyes away from it to look out the window. She’s still trying to do this. He gave the clipboard back, “I can’t go to this university. It’s not even that good.”

“It was good to me,” Mrs. Lee gave him a hall pass on a sticky note before waving him off to allow him to get to his next class.

“Well, I’m passing and staying in the best town in the world,” he waved as he walked out of the class.

Renjun pondered on the idea of leaving Dalgleish, but would it be the right decision. Everything he needed was right here. There could be a great job opportunity when he graduates from the community college. Well somewhere and that somewhere is not in Dalgleish. He was going to have to move out of the town one way or another if he wanted to pursue his dream of becoming a computer scientist. Maybe, he could find a way to come back to Dalgleish, opening a company would be beneficial. That was settled on a maybe. For now, all he needed to do was pass junior year and move onto senior year.

Making his way inside of the physics classroom, he showed the pass to Dr. Jean, only for it to be dismissed. He took his seat next to the window in the back. With the lack of care that his teacher had in the class, Renjun worked on the next requests of his services.

“Renjun, you’re working with Isabelle,” his teacher declared. Renjun picked up his head so fast, wondering as to why there’s suddenly a project. He was always informed beforehand in the beginning of the semester of what’s to come, but he came to realize Dr. Jean was the best teacher at coming up with random projects. Renjun just nodded, clearing his backpack from the chair next to him allowing Isabelle to sit it in.

Isabelle gave him a head bow, greeting him, “Hi. I’m Isabelle but you could just call me Hwayoung. You probably already knew that. I can’t believe Dr. Jean still calls me Isabelle, probably because he can’t pronounce half of our names.”

Renjun chuckled, shutting his computer off to place back in his backpack. He picked two of the copies of the paper before tossing the extra copies inside of the extra copy bucket that was behind him. He handed the paper to Hwayoung before reading the document. Seeing it was the project, his mouth contorted to a form of disappointment in finding the surprise assignment. The project didn’t even have anything to do with physics but basically getting to know your partner and put it in a PowerPoint. He didn’t know if he wanted to cry or laugh. He glanced in Hwayoung’s direction: Pretty. Pretty. Popular.

Choi Hwayoung. The ideal girl that anyone could ask for. She was nice and smart. She was one of the pretty girls of the school, and everyone knew that. Renjun liked her when he joined the Model UN team, and she was also on it. He thought that she was also smart when she stood her ground during the time of Model UN. He wished he could have stayed longer as he enjoyed it, but his sister wasn’t all that capable when he had to leave for a competition once. Despite thinking the basic reasons for him liking her, he liked how she smiled and her dimples just protruded. Her eyes were full of life when debating. How she spun her pen between her fingers when she was in focus. Renjun, tone your feelings down.

Now, he wasn’t sure if he still liked her due to the lack of attention he gave his own feelings.

“Oh right, my name is Renjun,” he whispered as Dr. Jean ranted on another go of the conspiracy theories of the Illuminati and Beyoncé . His teacher always made the time in class go by faster or slower depending on how dedicated he is to the conspiracy topic. Some were more interesting than others. He looked over to her writing, “I think you knew that already.”

“Yeah, I did. You were on the Model UN team but left, you were really good at what you did,” Hwayoung complimented him. He smiled, nodding as his way of accepting the praise.

The small talk ceased as the bell rang for dismissal, he collected his items and shoved them into his backpack. He slung his backpack over his shoulder, “I’ll do the project and turn it in when it’s finished.”

“But this is a two person project. I am not asking for your homework service to come in play here,” Hwayoung turned to look at him. “Maybe, we could just actually do it together. Unless you don’t want to because you’re uncomfortable to do that which then do the project by yourself, just text me if you need anything.”

With that, she smiled and left. Renjun watched her leave the classroom. That was a first. Typically any project with partners left Renjun to do the work all by himself, which he didn’t mind. Most complain that they had to do it by themselves, but he enjoyed the easy A without the others messing it up.

The final school bell rang, but Renjun was already in the car, waiting for his sister. He hummed to the music, tapping to the tunes of Ariana Grande’s Dangerous Woman album. His head turned to the door opening, and his sister joined him in the car already singing the song. Renjun turned down the volume, “Ready?”

She nodded while buckling up her seatbelt. Renjun placed the car in reverse, only for a student to be waving a paper trying to get his attention. He wasn’t paying attention, trying to get Mei to work on time was his priority.

As he continued to reverse the car, he still hadn’t noticed the student until Mei tugged on his jacket. He slammed on the breaks, finally seeing the student waving the paper around in the rear-view mirror. He almost ran over him. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to come to a compromise in his head that he almost committed homicide by accident, “What the hell?”

The male student walked around from the rear of the car before going around to the driver’s side. He knocked on Renjun’s window before Renjun rolled the window, “Why were you in my way?”

“You almost killed me. Shouldn’t you feel a little empathetic?” The student smiled with a teasing tone in his voice.

“If you have nothing important, I will be going now,” Renjun put the car in drive, starting to press on the acceleration pedal. He still wanted to know what the student wanted, but it was probably just another order for homework help. “If you want me to do your homework, find my number and text me.”

“I want you to help me write a love letter. I read your essay for Lucas, and it was really good,” the student requested, holding the note out. Renjun slammed on the brakes once again, but this time, Mei slapped her brother in the shoulder for the discomfort of their backs hitting the seats so harshly. He looked at her with an apologetic expression before his gaze turned back to the student.

The student held the note at the window, which Renjun started to read.

Dear Choi Hwayoung.

The first three words were enough for Renjun to decide if he was going to help this fool or not. He shoved the letter back into the hands of the requester, “Nope, I’m not writing a love letter to Hwayo- to her.”

“Oh, to who?” Mei pitched in. Love always made people curious, well more nosy. Then, the ideas of who ends up with who just turned into a big mess. Renjun certainly didn’t want to help someone out that wanted to create a love letter. Plus if he was the recipient of a love letter, he hoped it wasn’t made by someone that didn’t have feelings for the person. Or in Renjun’s case, written by the person’s personal feelings. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be genuine. Artificial. Unauthentic. Fake. Love isn’t supposed to be any of those things if a person wants to make it work.

“No one, Mei.” Renjun answered before he turned back to the student, “Have a good day.” He rolled the windows back up and continued to drive away to his priority. He looked in the mirror once more to find the student sulking with his head down. He chuckled. That’s so pathetic.

“Hey, you could have totally picked that request up. That was Lee Jeno,” Mei tapped away on her phone as she informed him of who the student was. Renjun scoffed, but he also was unsure why the name of the student is relevant. Customers are customers. There’s no needed relationship as it’s based on monetary and satisfaction of getting work done. Mei looked at her brother who stayed silent, and she was sure that he had no clue who Jeno was. She raised her eyebrow, “Do you not know who Lee Jeno is?”

“Do I care? Mm.. Not really,” he didn’t really care about who Jeno was. He rarely cared about any of the people in the school, as they weren’t his business. He wanted to stay out of anyone’s mouths as much as possible. Renjun thought of who Jeno was because he did sound familiar. They lived in a small town, so everyone knew most of each other. Dalgleish compromised mostly of East Asians, but nonetheless it still had a good variety of other ethnicities. It shouldn’t be hard to think of who Jeno was. Ah, he’s the boy who used to live four houses down when they were younger before the downfall of the Huangs came about. Jeno would try to invite them to play often with the other kids in the neighborhood, but Renjun was shy at the time, and Mei wasn’t the one who enjoyed company. Though that did start to change as they grew older. Renjun wasn’t shy, just liked to keep to himself to stay out of trouble, and Mei enjoys the energy with people.

“Jeno is the star student of the school, more like the perfect Asian kid. He plays the violin, ping-pong captain, forward for soccer, and is part of A Honor Roll,” Mei listed all of the things that Jeno specialized in. Renjun listened but wasn’t in awe of the achievements that Jeno had. Most of the kids in the school participated in those activities, differing in sports and academics. Everyone had their own skill set to show off, which made Jeno not any different from the student body.

“Okay, what does that have to do with me?” Renjun questioned, stopping at the red light. He wasn’t sure what his sister was making in her brain. She was most likely going to lose track of where she was heading to prove a point.

“Plus, he banks and his parents have this IT company in California. So if you help him, he could probably get you to return in favor by getting you an internship,” Mei added onto her tracks. She sure did make a point. That was a first. Renjun surely could land a job if he gets an internship, but he didn’t want to use someone like that. He wanted to do it on his own.

“Yeah, no. I refuse to do that,” Renjun pressed his foot down on the gas pedal, accelerating the car as the light switched to green.

“How come? It’s a good opportunity, I’m just saying,” Mei said as she shuffled around in her seat, adjusting her jacket.

“Well, I don’t want to use someone like that. I want to get there on my own, no matter how hard it is. I have a plan to get there,” Renjun answered. He arranged his future’s timeline, coming up with the desired plan. He thought of Plan B, just in case the first one didn’t work. Then, he had his safety plans just in case nothing of his wants couldn’t come to reality.

Mei answered with a hum. Renjun was glad that she didn’t continue the conversation. He parked next to the curb in front of the library and turned off the engine. He decided to study at the library. He didn’t have much to do today other than making dinner and finishing the rest of the requests that he didn’t assign to his sister. Plus, the library offered free food and beverages to their workers. And, who doesn’t like free food?

“Your shift ends at 7, which is perfect. I’ll be in my usual section, working and studying if you need anything,” Renjun said as he left his sister as they entered the downtown library. He walked towards the Japanese literature section, quietly greeting some of the regular goers that he recognized. Living in Dalgleish, he picked up quite a few languages. He was surrounded by multiple ethnicities who differed in languages and to benefit the elderly who weren’t comfortable using English, he thought it would be nice to learn their native language. Plus, there were foreigners who came frequently to visit the town. It was like a tourist attraction, sometimes. Even if there wasn’t anything to see in the town.

Renjun was only fluent in Mandarin Chinese and Korean, but he was conversational in other languages like Cantonese and Japanese. He tried to make the effort, plus his world geography class had an extra credit opportunity to explore languages. Despite not seeming to be a people person at school, Renjun was able to converse easily with others when he was out and about. He often got teased by his sister for it because he always said he was not a people person.

He placed his belongings on the ground, unpacking his laptop, and plugging the charger in the outlet to refuel the laptop’s battery. Putting his earphones in to enjoy his music, he bopped his head a little to the beats. Renjun checked his list if he had any new requests. He wanted to know if Jeno asked for one with his love letter. That’s so stupid. Love letters are supposed to be personal. He’s such a dumbass.

“Hey.” came out of nowhere. Renjun jerked in his chair a little, even if he had earphones, he didn’t blast it just in case someone asked him about anything in the library. He still was a worker there, even if he wasn’t working. He thrived off of a busy schedule. He didn’t thrive off on being startled.

He whipped his head to the person who peeked over his shoulder, almost throwing his hands around if it wasn’t in a public place or at least a library. He saw the same boy from earlier, only this time in neater clothes. Jeno was wearing his athletic warm-ups when he was at the school. Renjun just blinked his eyes before shaking his head and getting back to his laptop, “You’re in a library, look through some books for inspiration for your love letter. Good luck to you and bye.”

“Oh come on, I’m not the best at words and expressing my feelings. Can you just at least read it and revise?” Jeno asked, moving a chair from another table to sit with Renjun. The ping-pong star received hushes from those around him, causing both Renjun and Jeno to have apologetic looks to them.

Renjun shook his head, “No. No way.”

“I’ll pay you extra from what your highest price is. I’ll pay you even more for authenticity,” Jeno pulled his phone out. Renjun peeked over at Jeno’s screen to see his website page with the costs of the homework papers. He thought about the extra costs. He possibly could buy his sister’s dress for homecoming, so she could keep her money from work and spend it on makeup and other necessities to get ready for school events. It was a good idea, but Renjun wasn’t the best at even expressing feelings and whatnot.

“I’ll give you $100 for this one letter,” Jeno offered.

“Alright, sold.”

47 notes · View notes

wolffishgrin · 5 years ago

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Long Time No See

Pairing: Choi Seunghyun x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1427

A/N:

Didn’t proofread.

Posting this from my mobile so the spacings are really messed up.

Also, if you’re wondering why am I posting this so late. Well let’s just say i procrastinated, a lot because I wanted it to post the very next day of his military discharge.

And, I should just declare myself an angst writer. (Ofcourse, if that’s even a thing lmao)

I’ll add the read more tag when I open it on my laptop. It’s really late here so bye for now.

Special mention to @apotatomashedbybts who constantly kept motivating me. Thank you friend <3

Backspace. Typing. Backspace. Uggh.

You were not well and decided to work from home. It wasn’t exactly going as you had planned. This was literally your 8th attempt at trying to frame a sentence and yet you couldn’t recall what exactly was the intent of this email that you were typing out. Your boss had asked you to write something for someone but you couldn’t get your head around it because your mind was too busy creating scenarios of your boyfriend’s military discharge.

How you wished you were there, waiting for him but unfortunately you couldn’t. You have had this discussion with him after the news of his prolonged military enlistment and it was decided that it’d be better if you were out of the scene; completely. You didn’t say anything and neither did he. To say that it hurt would probably be an understatement but things were the way they were. He had already been through much and you didn’t want to be a burden by imposing more on him.

Being a celebrity was tough, that too a member of the world famous Big Bang at that. The pressure was unimaginable but Seunghyun, or T.O.P as the world called him, was a man who had the reins of his life in his own hands, and that’s what had made you fall for him. He was unpredictable, carefree but most importantly he was himself.

Taking a deep sigh you tried to push these sour thoughts aside and went back to attempting to concentrate on the work at hand. Today was going to be a long day.

Throughout the day you kept scrolling through your instagram feed to check for updates. After hours of struggling with your work you decided to scroll again and that’s when you saw a video, of him. It was uploaded an hour ago. He was walking away from his car escorted by security on all sides, and towards his patiently waiting fans. He was in a crisp black suit, hair gelled away from his face exposing his glowing face. He looked healthy. He looked..clean except for a tiny cut near his mouth. He bowed to his fans and then proceeded to shake their hands one by one. They crying, smiling, too glad to see him, just like you.

And then you just gave up, frustrated beyond limits, tears making their way to the corner of your eyes and down your cheeks, you shut your laptop, left a message on your work group and switched off your cellphone. You just couldn’t take it anymore. As if the torture of being away from him for these years wasn’t enough that you had to go through this too.

You missed him, missed his smell, his touch, his presence. This place that you both had bought together lacked his warmth. He had left only a month after moving into this house and his memories were barely there. When you started this journey with him you thought you’ll make it through with him, waiting on the other side of the line and you would’ve if not for the scandal that followed and shattered your hopes completely.

You rolled in your bed closing your eyes in response to the splitting headache. You laid there for don’t know how long only to be pulled out of your trance by the sound of the door bell.

You got up, heart racing, butterflies in your stomach and just ran towards the door. You twisted the knob slowly with trembling fingers really not ready to face whatever was behind the wooden barrier but the devil completed the deed by pushing it all the way through. You got the wind knocked out of you when your eyes met. His eyes were boring into you, analysing you, his expression not giving a clue.

And then he did the honours accompanied with his dimpled smile, “Long time no see, y/n.”

But you just stood there, frozen to the ground.

“How... are you here?”

“I mean why?”

“What?”

You kept mumbling those nonsense question with tears streaming down you cheeks. Putting you out of your misery he just engulfed you in his strong arms not caring about answering at all and that was more than what you needed.

His touch that you had missed was more than enough to break you into uncontrollable sobs. You poured all your struggles, loneliness in it and heaved into his chest while he just silently brushed your hair with his fingers and kept kissing the top of your head now and then.

When you relaxed after a while he pushed you away from his chest cupping your face into his big hands. He brought his lips to yours and you obliged, welcoming his gesture. This kiss wasn’t to satiate either of your needs, it was a confirmation that he was there for you now.

He still didn’t utter a word instead pulled you towards your bedroom. Once inside he made you sit on the bed and then disappeared out of the room, god knows to do what. You just waited there for him tapping your feet on the floor, nervously.

He returned with a glass of water and a tablet that looked like aspirin. “Take it” he ordered and you took the medicine from his palm. But how did he get to know about your headache which you had clearly forgotten about as soon as you saw him.

“You always get a headache after you cry and you obviously have one now since this is the most I’ve ever seen you cry.” He answered reading the unspoken question in your eyes and a tear slipped again.

“Y/N”, he whispered, kneeling in front of you and wiping the lone tear with the pad of his thumb. “I’m here now.”

“I know but I just..” You let that trail off facing too much difficulty in speaking fearing that you might end up turning on full mode crying. He understood and just gave on of his heart warming smiles.

You both just ended up cuddling together in the warmth of the blanket, his back against the heardboard and your head on his chest, fingers clutching his shirt and his playing with your hair.

“You know I wouldn’t have left if I knew I’ll have to come back to this.” Hearing this made your heart swell and you thought you might just end yo crying again until he said “I mean how much did that evil boss of yours made you work?” He laughed and you pulled away to hit him playfully.

“What?” He asked and you just bowed you head and mumbled an “I missed you” which was barely audible but he somehow listened.

“Come here.” He pulled you to him again and said “Y/N, you’re a strong woman. I know that and I also know my decisions must’ve hurt you a lot for you to cry like that. But the things that happened in the past year I didn’t want you to be dragged into it, at all and that’s why I kept you away from everything, good or bad.”

He paused and took a deep breath to compose himself. You could feel the pain in his words. “When I ordered them to exclude you from everything, I knew I was driving you away from me and there was a chance you might even leave me, I mean why would a woman like you would ever wait for a man like me? But it was a risk I had to take.”

“And here you are waiting for me, shedding those precious tears for me and I’ll be forever grateful for that. Thank you, Y/N. And I love you.”

You got up from his hold and straddled him, wiping your tears with the sleeves of your tshirt. “I love you too” and kissed him with all your might and he reciprocated. Soon the kiss turned heated, lips against lips, tongue fighting for dominance and hands running down everywhere. Stopping abruptly you both pulled back, eyes burning with passion and panting, gulping air to make up for the loss. That’s when you noticed something silver shining around his neck. You pulled the chain from underneath his shirt. It didn’t take you long to recognise that it was the same pendant that you had gifted him on his first birthday away with both your initials engraved on it.

“You wore this?” You asked feeling the engravings with your thumb. Surprise clear in your voice.

“Everyday.”

———————-

My ask box is open. Feel free to drop in requests.

#bigbang #t.o.p #choi seunghyun #tabi #big bang fic #big bang top #big bang #seunghyun

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smoakmonster · 7 years ago

Text

C is for Complications

Prompt: Sent to the Wrong Printer A/N: I originally aimed for this to be funny, but the muse had other ideas. Set in between 2x06 and 2x07. Enjoy! Word Count: 2.7k Tagging: @thebookjumper, @olicityhiatusficathon, @scu11y22, @mel-loves-all, @dust2dust34, @releaseurinhibitions Also available: on AO3.

xxx

I love you.

The words had been rattling around inside her all morning, really ever since they had gotten back from Russia, ever since she’d told him. You deserve better than her. You deserve better. You deserve...to be with me?

Felicity shook her head, as she attempted to focus on the swarm of emails currently cluttering her inbox.

Mr. Queen needs to read the updated proposal. I have attached a copy to this email...

Since Mr. Queen could not be bothered to attend our last three meetings...

Please inform Mr. Queen that as CEO he is responsible for…

Felicity puffed out her cheeks in attempt to relax herself, as she swiftly typed a response to all the emails labeled “URGENT.” And she’d thought hacking into the FBI had been stressful.

She did glean a small amount of pride, though, in being the sort of gatekeeper to the CEO. She was protecting him, just like she protected him every night that he was on the streets, sending warnings about what lay ahead, deterring unwelcome complications, like street cameras recording him taking his hood off in a well-lit alley or the timestamp similarities between Oliver Queen leaving a scene and The Arrow arriving.

If only she could deter other, emotional complications so easily.

As degrading as it still was, playing secretary by day, never before had she been so grateful for boring office work as she was today. Answering trivial complaints and scheduling an unnecessary amount of meetings that Oliver was “required” to attend kept her busy, kept her mind distracted from the way her heart pinched strangely every time she paused long enough to remember standing outside Oliver’s hotel room...and watching Isabel Rochev saunter out of it.

Felicity wasn’t blind. She knew Oliver’s reputation. She’d seen it firsthand with Helena and Laurel and...and now with Isabel.

But that was before. Before she started working with him. Before he became her friend. Before he became...something more.

When exactly had she let herself care about Oliver Queen so much? When had he become so important?

And yet, somehow, she was pretty sure she’d known for a long time that what she felt for Oliver was too much, so far beyond too much. And that weird, nervous thrill that fluttered inside her chest whenever she remained in Oliver’s presence was specific to Oliver himself. He’d tried all his usual playboy antics on her at the beginning; and even though she’d seen right through them, they’d still sort of...worked?

Because the man she’d gotten to know over the past year was different than anyone she’d ever met. He was better than he pretended to be. He was real. There was so much depth and goodness and honor in his soul that he kept hidden from the world, from his family...even from himself.

And she didn’t understand why.

Oliver Queen was the biggest mystery of her life, and she both loved and hated him for it.

Love.

Oh, that dreaded word again.

Did she really...love him though? She couldn’t afford to. After all, he’d said so himself, caring about someone given what they do every night...it could only bring more pain. She’d already lost so much, her father and Cooper and now….

Felicity swallowed.

Now it was too late.

She cared about him too much to let go now.

That was why she’d stayed, even after they’d found Walter, wasn’t it? The mission was important, but so was he. He was important, but so was the mission. Over and over, every night, she wrestled with her priorities, with his stubborn and reckless behavior, with her inapt and unreturned feelings for him. Sometimes, it was like her mind and heart were at war with one another, like she was the one living a double life. And yet other times, when he’d pause and rest his hand on her shoulder like that, so gently and still so surely, and he’d look at her with such a softness, like his eyes were calling out to her to save him from...something. Himself? She wanted to know the secrets he only told her in stares.

His gaze often left her jarred...and left her craving more.

Her shoulder always felt so cold when he finally had to pull his hand away.

Since the day she’d found him bleeding in the backseat of her car, Felicity knew that what she felt for Oliver Queen--what she continued to torture herself by feeling for him--went so far beyond admiration or friendship.

Oliver was never just the cute, rich castaway who pestered her occasionally with petty, life-changing requests and lied to her face with a charming smile plastered to his own. Somewhere along the way, she’d started needing him, too.

I love you.

Those words rushed through her when The Glades came crumbling down around them.

I love you.

Those words ricocheted inside her chest as Oliver’s warm body smacked against hers, pressing her deeper into the Lian Yu grass, after so many months of not seeing him, of not knowing if he was okay.

I love you.

Those words gutted her to the core as she turned and walked away from him at a hotel in Russia, bitterly muttering “even when it makes no sense whatsoever.”

It still didn’t make sense. And she was still bitter.

And she still loved him.

There. She’d finally indulged herself in not only thinking the words but in allowing herself to linger in them, to let them fill her, to let them hurt her.

Since last year, Felicity had been trying to avoid, deny, or explain away her feelings for Oliver. And now, finally putting a name to it was alarming and yet...soothing in a way she couldn’t explain. It was terrifying and freeing. It was exhilarating and exhausting.

Because he would never feel the same way.

Too bad she couldn’t just write a code to undo everything.

Like getting zapped with a spark of electricity, an idea suddenly came to Felicity. And since she was indulging her thoughts...she might as well go all in.

Pulling up a new blank document, Felicity stared at the empty white page, watching the vertical cursor blink at her over and over, nagging her, taunting her.

Finally, she gave in.

She had to do it. Just once. Just to tell someone, even if that someone was her computer.

Before she could stop herself, Felicity hit eleven keys, typing out three words.

I love him.

There. That wasn’t so hard.

Felicity jumped when the phone at her desk suddenly rang, and she answered it promptly. While speaking with the head of HR department, Felicity quickly minimized the document on her screen and ignored it for the rest of the morning.

Shortly after lunch, while Oliver was still out of the office with Thea visiting his mother, Felicity dared to open up that document once again and stare at those three aching words.

It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t personal enough.

Felicity hit the backspace key three times and tried again.

I love you.

Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, still unsatisfied, Felicity typed out the final five and most important letters, the letters that, for better or worse, remained etched on her heart.

Oliver.

With a little nod to herself for a job well done, Felicity hit “print” and started making her way over to the sleek and overpriced printer in the corner--

“Felicity!”

She froze at the sound of his voice. Feeling guilty and caught off guard and flustered beyond measure, Felicity took a moment to try to compose herself before turning around and staring the source of her current emotional dilemma right in the face.

“What!” Her voice sounded more like cry for help than a question, so she tried again, clearing her throat. “What?”

Oliver frowned, clearly picking up that something was not quite right with her today. He didn’t know, right? He couldn’t know. How could he know?

Ridiculous man, why did he always have be so observant at the worst times?

“Meeting. Conference room.”

Right.

She sighed once with relief as she followed him directly into the conference, like the obedient assistant that she was.

Well, if Oliver remembering a meeting time on his own didn’t show her how off her game she was today, then she didn’t know what would. Thankfully, he was too busy to ask what was actually bothering her. Still, Felicity’s heart decided to badger her for the next two hours. She could barely pay attention to her notes in the beginning. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. She chanted the words like a mantra, keeping rhythm with her pen tapping against her notepad.

But by the time their meeting ended, it was nearly sunset, and the first wave of crime in the city had already begun. Felicity never made it back to check her printer until the next day, and by then The Count had broken out of prison.

xxx

“Oliver, what are we doing here?”

“I just need to grab something.”

Oliver led Felicity through the long aisles of the evidence warehouse, stacked to the brim with boxes and old files. He’d been here before, though under less pleasant circumstances.

“Are you sure we’re even allowed to be in here?” Felicity whispered. “I mean, as us...not, you know, the other us.”

“Well, Lance was able to pull few strings and said that it would be alright,” said Oliver. “We just can’t touch anything other than what I came here for.”

Felicity stopped in her tracks and pouted her lips in that adorably alluring way of hers. “I think you might be abusing your power there, Mr. Mayor.”

“Promise not to tell my secret?” He winked at her, taking a moment to run his thumb once more over the new ring on her finger, nestled against the one with the diamond. He still hadn’t gotten used to that cool, smooth, perfect texture against her skin. He doubted he ever would get used to it...to them.

“Only if you promise to finally clue me in on why we’re hanging out in a dusty evidence warehouse in the first place. Not that I don’t appreciate the lighting aesthetic, but I think if we stay here too long my allergies are going to start flaring up.”

“Well, I can’t tell you. I have to show you.”

Oliver smiled as he pulled her along a little further, down a few more rows, following the path Lance had instructed, until finally they came to the item he’d been seeking. He could tell when she spotted it, because she let out a small “oh” at the sight.

His old trunk.

Releasing her hand, Oliver quickly worked to undo the lock and lifted the lid. His hand stumbled against various items inside until it finally rested on another small box tucked into the corner of the trunk, exactly where he’d left it years ago.

As he pulled out the small box, Felicity gave him a skeptical look. “Please don’t tell me we came here just so you can grab some magical island herbs.”

He chuckled, opening the little container and finding a folded piece of paper inside.

She frowned in amusement as she watched him begin unfolding the paper before her eyes.

“A secret message from your family?”

“Something like that,” he answered.

Taking a deep breath and keeping his gaze fixed on her, Oliver slowly turned the paper around and waited...waited until Felicity spotted the familiar words on the page.

I love you, Oliver.

She stilled when she saw them.

“You know what this is.” It wasn’t a question.

“Where did you…? Oliver, I can explain--” She reached to snatch the paper from his grasp, but he quickly moved it out of her reach and patiently folded the note back up like it was the most precious thing to him--and in some, small way it was--before safely tucking the note into his shirt pocket.

“I don't want you to explain.”

Felicity licked her lips, seemingly flustered in a way he hadn’t seen her in a long time, as though this was four years ago and they weren’t married and he hadn’t told her he loved her yet.

“I-I don’t understand. How did you get that?”

“I um…” Now came the tricky part. He needed her to know why he brought her here tonight, why this one piece of paper had been a lifeline for him in the midst of chaos and darkness and...having to walk away from this woman standing before him so many times.

“I found this in the printer in my office, the night The Count almost…” he paused, swallowing heavily, avoiding her eyes. “The night I killed him.” The night I almost lost you.

“Wait, you said you found it in your printer?”

That was not what he was expecting.

Oliver looked up, frowning, confused by her tone.

“All these years, and I sent it to the wrong printer? Granted, I hadn’t exactly been thinking straight at the time, but still. How could you find this and not tell me? Why not just throw it away and put me out of her misery and...ugh, this is embarrassing--”

“What? Why?” He rushed close to her, his hands coming up on their own accord to grab her upper arms near her shoulders, his thumbs running in circles to try to soothe her.

She visibly relaxed under his touch. “I just…I never meant for you to see that. It was supposed to be for me, for my eyes only. It was just something I did to…”

“To what?” he asked.

“To try to let you go. Because I had all these inappropriate feelings--not inappropriate inappropriate, just feelings about my boss that were not returned--”

“That you knew of. That either of us knew of.” Oliver sighed, drawing warmth from her presence as he so often did, drawing strength from the familiar trust he saw plainly on her face. “I suspected that the note was from you, but after just telling you I couldn't be with someone that I could really care about, I just...I didn't know how to tell you I'd found it. And then The Count tried to hurt you, and then Barry Allen showed up and you went away and things got…”

“Complicated?”

“Yeah.”

Felicity offered him a tender smile. “Welcome to my world.”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to know or not. And for a while, I didn't...I didn't want it to be you. Every instinct inside me told me not to let you in...not to let myself care about you. Everything I learned on the island, that you can’t trust anyone but yourself, that caring about people gets them killed.... Russia showed me that. The Count showed me that. Slade showed me that.”

“But you still kept it?” she asked softly.

Oliver shook his head, barely understanding why he did it himself. “I guess there was a part of me...a bigger part than I wanted to admit...that wanted this, wanted to be with you, even if I thought that could never happen.”

“Oliver…” Felicity breathed, reaching up to caress his cheek and hold his head in place, keeping him grounded, keeping him whole.

“I just wanted you to know that I knew. And I’m sorry I wasn’t ready...before.”

“Oliver, it’s okay. That’s all in the past. And we made it here, didn’t we?”

He sighed a laugh. “Yeah, I guess we did.”

“And I’m sorry, too.”

Oliver started. “For what?”

“For writing you basically the shortest love letter that ever existed.”

He laughed, his chest feeling suddenly lighter and fuller, as only Felicity could ever seem to bring him. And as he leaned down, she met him halfway, and he kissed his wife deeply, right there in the middle of the abandoned corner of the evidence warehouse, the note that she’d written him ages ago pressed between them, right against his heart, where it belonged.

When they finally broke apart for air, Felicity was smiling as she wrapped both her arms around one of his. But when he started moving, she paused. “You’re just gonna leave it?” She nodded to the trunk.

With one final glance at his past, Oliver nodded firmly, sure of his chosen future, sure of one half of his life standing beside him and the other half hopefully sound asleep by now back home.

“I don’t need it anymore,” he replied. “I have you.”

#ohfat #olicity hiatus fic-a-thon #olicityhiatusfic #olicity #olicity fic #how I love thee: a to z series #my stuff #shelley does fic

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olivialaita · 7 years ago

Photo

First time I met Erin Forsyth was on a random drunken dancing night with a couple of new girlfriends from the Auckland Hip-Hop community. I thought, ‘She’s pretty buzzy’, but the night was fluid and we danced for hours and it ended up just being us two left out of the bunch of girls. I’m pretty sure Erin doesn’t remember our first encounter but ever since then, I always thought of her as this light-hearted, quiet, fun, pixie-like chick who I had an awesome night with. Not this alpha female, punk-rock, prolific tagger who would skull beer leftovers and butt roll ciggies from street pickings. I never got to see this Erin, I guess I was lucky. I got to remain in my bubble, thinking of the nice Erin experience I had. 15 years later, she popped back up on my radar, pretty much out of nowhere. I noticed her artworks were related to taxonomy and the way she wrote about it on her Instagram was familiar language that I’ve been exposed to before. That’s right?!, I have a Bachelor's Degree in Biology, duh! I understood her language. So I reached out. Only a couple of weeks later, I’m sitting in her home studio set-up with her bird Popo whom she rescued, who every now and then during the course of our talk, would pipe in with a lil chirp here and there. Erin, who would’ve thought, a Post-Graffiti Pacific artist who is about to show at an extremely significant New Zealand contemporary art gallery. Can you take us back to your upbringings in the Auckland graffiti scene which was like, over 15 years ago!? My place in graffiti has been pretty different to a lot of people. I moved around a bit as a kid because my parents got involved with the church so we lived up in Algies Bay while they were working for a bible college there, then came back down and moved to Northcote. People in Northcote were quite different to people in Warkworth. I had my first jobs at the Woolworths (Supermarket] and at the Fruit & Veg shop. I’d always see these tags like Trojan and Thor, which was a big one on the Shore and y’know, I didn’t really think too much about it but I always looked at the tags and read them. I started going into town just to get away from family and church stuff around then. I was at a rave and the people that I was hanging out with just started copping some tags and I was like, ‘WTF?! You can just do that? You don’t need to be someone famous?’. In my mind, people that done those were masked bandits, characters in a comic book or something, and then here were these people, just right there. I was like, ‘Can I have a go?’ and I did this terrible tag that said ‘Mint’. They said that there were like 50 people writing that and that I had to come up with something better. This was with Ape and some other Grey Lynn kids. We didn’t really do anything together, just smoke weed and do tags which was good too because it doesn’t have to be all fancy all the time. So from the start tagging was the main thing for me. I got together with Fun Boy who I had known for a long time from hanging out in town, especially from moving out of home at a young age - Even when I was at high school I used to work as a flyer girl for raves like the Brain and a nightclub called Ministry which was on Albert St. The drinking age was R20 then but I was like 15/16 and I’d hustle my way in based on working for them and would hang out with all these adults. I didn’t drink at that time but I smoked a lot of weed.

Funny, it was a weird life when I come to think about it - I knew Fun Boy from around and we ended up getting together and living in my Dad’s garage in Grey Lynn. We’d just go racking in the day and tagging in the night and that was pretty much our lives. Occasionally we’d do this with other writers like ADT but mainly it was just us two weirdos. I met most of the RFCs again at that time - I’d seen Deus before while we were both at Freelance Animation School but we never spoke. Anyway, we were all trying to shoplift beer in a beer fridge, trying to be undercover and were waiting for them to leave. Then realized they were all doing the same thing so it was pretty funny and we all went and hung out.

Things didn’t work out with .F. but I still see him around and have a lot of love for him. He definitely influenced me in terms of choosing a good spot, being consistent, all of these sorts of things that were really important to get noticed as a graffiti artist - not as a street artist, not as a professional artist but as a graffiti artist. He was always like, it’s not about style, it’s about getting up and I know that a lot of people don’t agree with that but...

I started spending more time with the RFCs who were more into the style and technique and learning more about how that applies. I remember painting with Prompt and seeing her doing cutbacks on this Mad Hatter character that she was painting and I had never seen anyone do cutbacks before! I was like, ‘What are you doing!?, that’s cheating! [laughs]’. I thought you had to do it all in one line so that was mind-blowing. I wasn’t even a kid at the time, I would’ve been 20 and I still didn’t know anything. Around then I ended up at Over’s house and was asked to choose between joining RFC or IRA which was a strong female crew that included Phem, Wise and Prompt. My choice to roll with RFC had more to do with not wanting to be stigmatized as a ‘girl writer’ more than anything else and I have nothing but respect for those women who could hold their own even back then. I’ve always felt slightly odd with ‘girly’, ‘womanly’ or ‘feminine’ things and it’s something I still struggle with. Although I have never been core RFC I still rep it. And yes I know I wasn’t in the photo in Disruptiv, I lived next door to the Disruptiv Gallery and sometimes I wanted nothing to do with it. And I know I wasn’t mentioned in several recent videos...there’s been words.

Over time, I had different painting partners, Prompt was one, Helper, Fun Boy, Gasp was one of them (while I was in Sydney Dmote, Perso, Detch, Spate, Amuse, Dboe – but that’s another story) each of those people played a big part in my life. We would plan and execute and inbetween fit the occasional sprees. Even though I might not be as tight with everyone as I have been over the time, the past is connected to the present and I really want to honour those relationships because they were really meaningful to me…and then I [nonchalantly] set-up a graffiti store. That was another thing that happened. It started as ‘Out of Order’, upstairs from what was once called Virus Clothing. The space had been a sex dungeon type torture club prior to that and allegedly some guy was actually killed there and thrown off the Hunua Falls. I had a lil place that was once the DJ booth in this club that I was renting by working one day a week for the ladies Katalena Falanitule and Tienke Drupsteen that ran Nu clothing from there. I had hardly any stock but people were really into it, just the idea that there was somewhere dedicated to supplies. There was Harlem Vintage but it was always closed and there were all these issues of just trying to get paint, caps and pens, it was incredibly difficult. So having a place that you could just buy caps, people were really into it and as I lived next door, I could just come down and open it up whenever people wanted stuff.

Later I did an enterprise allowance grant through WINZ and I got some money and moved it into St Kevins [Arcade] and then started selling sneakers as well. I thought that the reason why I wasn’t making enough money was that I wasn’t on the street level. So then I moved down to Great North Road near where Flox is now. I was terrified that I was going to get robbed so I was sleeping in the shop. I was in there with this fold-out bed and sleeping behind the counter and I heard these people talking about robbing the shop, I could hear everything that they were saying! I was like, fuck, it’s just me by myself, what am I going to do? So I crawled into the backspace and turned the light on. This must’ve tweaked them out as they left. But I thought, ‘fuck, if someone does break in here for real, what am I going to do? Just me by myself, I can’t do shit’. So I was like, oh well and went back to sleeping at my house again.

Sometime later there was an RFC exhibition at Disruptiv Gallery and I had arranged for someone else to set-up the shop next day so I could get loose and not worry about it. But I woke up to someone banging on my door the next morning and I was like, “Piss off, I’m sleeping” and then they were like, “You’ve been robbed!” and I was like, “Nooooo!”. It was actually Daniel Hounsel who used to run the skate shop First Floor that set the alarm. There was no money and they didn’t even take all the paint, but they took at least one of each of the shoes.

I don’t know who it was, I’ve been told various things, that I won’t go into. It doesn’t matter to me now but at the time…it felt really deliberate and like it was from the community, this community that I had risked everything for, telling me to fuck off. So I was like, fuck you and I left and went to Sydney. My heart was broken, I felt like I had tried so hard and I had lost so much money trying to do something for everyone. As the business was more of a drop in centre than an actual profit turning business the money lost was that theoretical money trap when you owe what you don’t have. It’s really quite different to having access to funds and advice like a lot of young creative entrepreneurs today. I really didn’t have anything, I actually had dishwashing jobs to pay my rent on the space. I didn’t have anyone showing me how to run a business, I just didn’t know what I was doing TBH. The shop ran from 2003 – 2006 all up.

I eventually came back from Australia while working as Arts editor for The New Order Magazine in 2008. My sister and I had a company called The Busy Nice and we were organizing exhibitions and I was painting and illustrating and needed a workspace. Every shared space I looked into was managed by art school grads or art students and were always ‘full’, so I started looking for a space where someone self-taught, like myself, could work. I literally saw the FOR RENT sign in the window of 6 Upper Queen St, next to all the metal aliens and walked over to enquire. The late Mr Bond was moving filing boxes down the stairs and told me I’d have to talk to his son Graham. I’d been into the electrical repairs shop downstairs and had old 45 player serviced by Mr Bond AKA Mr Fingers and had always thought it was a really interesting space. My sister, along with Christopher Washer, Alexander Hoyles and I got the lease upstairs from the repair store in December 2009. It was the first and only time the family owned building was leased out. I literally didn’t tell anyone that I knew was into graffiti that we had spaces available, I’d been burnt and didn’t want anyone in there that had anything to do with it. Huge numbers of artists worked in the space over the years including renowned artists such as Sam Mitchell, Campbell Patterson, Henrietta Harris and Imogen Taylor to name a few. It was actually Stefan Sinclair from Two Hands that put in the dividing wall in the main space when he was working there. Eventually we began to put on exhibitions and later on the occasional punk show by bands such as Street Chant, Two Wolves and the Raw Nerves.

A high point for me was live-streaming an interview with Aaron Rose the curator/director of Beautiful Losers who I’d met in Sydney. There are no photos from that as everyone that was there was literally transfixed. It was crazy, the cops showed up and everything was so chill, they just told us to carry on!

When the various artists of YGB [Young, Gifted & Broke] started hanging out on mass in preparation for the launch of the YGB app, things started to slip away from me. Although I got put down with YGB as this proceeded, I would drink for a ‘good time’ but then try to get control of what was happening in the space by lashing out and it just wasn’t working anymore. I was personally in a really negative place trying to support my much younger partner through a heavily publicized court case for allegedly writing Gosus and the studios got to be too much. Some days there would literally be 20 dudes I didn’t know in the space and they weren’t listening to me, I was drinking out of control, couldn’t collect rent and it was all a bit of a mess really. Most people in the Hip-Hop community probably only know the space as what it became after that point/after I left i.e The Carwash Gallery). But it ticked over from 2009-2014 as Method and Manners.

For a long time I thought of this as it not working out. But I can see now my time with it was just done and I was just holding on waay too tight, haha.

I’ve taken some time out, my business is not everyones business and am trying to figure out who I am sans drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, graffiti, gluten, meat and dairy, haha. Rather than trying to ‘help’ a community I’m trying to help myself by making the most of what I have, which will in turn (hopefully!) benefit the community. It really seems that in order to be positive in a community, you have to look after yourself and make the most of your talents, I’m sure you know all about that! So anyway I’ve just been figuring that out and it got me the opportunity to show with Deborah White. Have you always been around art? I was always encouraged to do art. My grandma Diana was a florist for over 30 years and my mum always painted and still paints. I loved it and was a geek about it all the way through school. I was consistently in the top of my class for art and art history. When the Frida Kahlo and later the Keith Haring exhibition came to the Wellington City Gallery, mum somehow took my sisters and I to see it and we travelled as a family to Europe for church and she made sure we went to the Louvre. A damn fine education. I left [high school] at 17 and intended to apply to ELAM but was told by my art teacher when I was leaving that I’d never get in without bursary so I just never applied. Instead I just went to Freelance Animation school and started doing graffiti. I moved out of home and it was rough! Looking at 18 year olds now I’m like, they’re not living out of home doing graffiti and going out every day, taking drugs every other night, what was I doing?!

It’s crazy thinking about it but jumping forward, what I learnt from graffiti plays such a huge part in how I construct a composition. Particularly in regards to creating a strong silhouette, being considerate of line and painting from the back to the front. All elements of Hip-Hop rely on a personal rhythm, that’s where your style comes from. When you express this with your body, your mind, your movement and that ‘something else’ you are communicating on more than a physical level.

I attended a Rongoā Māori course in Manurewa last weekend, and it blew my mind. I’d thought we would look at plants and learn their active properties but the tohunga were talking about different relationships between and [how] whakapapa is not just a linear thing but an inter-connectedness of all things through their shared elements past, present and future. There was such truth in that. It was very close to things that I have read about in other philosophies and other religions and not at all what I expected to learn about from the paper I’d done in ethnobotany and my own readings. And the energy from these ātaahua wāhine and being in a room with other people was so much more powerful than any book I have ever read.

What about being a female artist today, being from the male-dominating sub-culture graffiti scene?

As a female artist there’s this other layer where you’re supposed to be hot as well and people seem to think it’s fair game if you don’t maintain your appearance. But unless I’m feeling myself I CBF! The work is way more important. The way I got into the arts was through different sub-cultures in the 90’s. For a woman to be involved in these sub-cultures, which were even more male dominated then, you had to really prove your commitment to the culture by doing something! It wasn’t enough to just show up and be hot or to wear the appropriate thing, you had to actually be doing something or people would just be like, ‘what the fuck are you doing? Fuck off!’. Even though I was pretty active - not to be up my own arse, not saying I was good - but I was active for a long time where I did a lot of...stuff [laughs], I would still get grief. People would imply or straight out tell me that I was only of interest because of who I was dating or because I was a girl. It was definitely something that I took on board and wanted to challenge personally. Like all artists I want my work to be valued regardless of my gender. For a long time I didn’t want to paint anything that would be considered ‘female’ and I still feel kind of stupid when I wear a dress or do my hair. When I was a kid I dressed like a boy as much as possible and didn’t like dolls and stuff and being a tomboy put me at odds with everyone. So painting plants and flowers and kiwi is really liberating for me. Just because these things are beautiful. It doesn’t mean they are weak. I feel really good about being able to tap into my masculine and feminine sides. I’m an artist first so I channel all energies and gender as a concept is really a restrictive construct that puts us against one another.

I have days when I feel really at odds with how women show their bodies on the internet – I’m not really a believer in feminism to begin with – as a term ‘first wave’ and ‘second wave’ feminism only describes the stages of (mainly anglosaxon) female liberation in America. Princess Nokia’s ‘urban feminism’ is really smart and cutting and well timed and the work she is doing by just sharing her personal experience is really powerful.

I try not to judge but I generally stop following people that put up nude/near nude photos because I just don’t want to see that. I’m not a prude and when I was younger I got asked to model a bit and even rode a horse naked for a commercial advertising an exhibition from the Tate. I just wonder if the art for some people is making themselves ‘attractive’ or if it’s the work they are doing. The blurring of this line might seem fun and exploratory but it’s pretty dangerous. The algorithms used as framework for social media platforms like Facebook and Instagram, are based on a popularity system. Permanent high-school. We each have value intrinsically; we are all inter-connected and combined actions that move us further from this truth only breeds resentment.

Anyway it’s a weird time to be making work and to think that you can spend months making a picture and you put it online and then it’s right next to someone’s butt. It’s kind of depressing. So trying to bring the audience back to the gallery or into printed matter or into engagement with one another, into conversation, is really important.

Last time I heard, you were working at The Depot? Yeah I was there for years as well! The Depot was a real turning point because I realised how little I knew. In the past I was always ok in saying, “I don’t know” but while I was there I realized that I need to go out and learn about where we are and how I fit in just for myself. Y’know? What does it mean to be a pakeha? Why did previous generations of my family come here and where from? Even when I try to think about just my personal history, it’s a mess! I have learnt more about the history of Aotearoa New Zealand by studying ecology than I ever learnt in school and TBH my parents didn’t know it to teach me either. Many people see history as issues of the past but it speaks too about inter-generational development and manifests in contemporary life. There was an exhibition called He Whakaputanga Mai o te Rangatiratanga at Depot Artspace which travelled down from the Hokianga. It featured 13 artists making contemporary work about their relationship to this landmark document and the United Tribes flag. In my role as editor for publications I was set to work laying out a publication which featured writing and images by the artists and I was mind-blown. I had never even heard of it before. I never even knew that there was that flag or anything and I was like, ‘OMG this is terrible!, everything I ever knew was wrong!’ I then realized that if I lived my whole life saying ‘I don’t know’ about these things, not only would that be acceptable but it would be encouraged in ‘polite’ society and I’m just not OK with that. My relationship with the Depot was definitely tumultuous to say the least but it was also invaluable. I learnt so much during my time there about relationships, cultural development, and about myself. I just got to a place when it was definitely time for me to go and be more directive in my learning. Other than my one year of study at animation college in 1999 I had no tertiary education and as I still have to make commercial/client work to support myself I tried to find flexible papers specific to my interest in the natural environment of Aotearoa. I couldn’t really find anything THAT specific but there was one paper with Open Polytechnic that was on plants and people. An introduction to ethnobotany which looked at plant identification but also an entry level into cultural uses. But to do it I had to get a student loan to pay for it, because paying for everything is hard as well when you’re an artist. So I enrolled into a Diploma in Environment and Sustainability. I did a bunch of papers that I didn’t know I’d be that interested in but I definitely see now that having a more overall understanding of the environment locally and globally aids the more specific knowledge I have been seeking. I ended up joining the New Zealand Plant Conservation Network (a great online resource) and they were advertising a summer school paper in Practical Field Botany by The University of Canterbury which took place at the Cass Field Research Station centred around learning how to identify alpine plants by seeing them in the field! After a year of studying by myself that sounded amazing. Looking at plants in the field, the mountains, in the summer…then I got down there and it was a degree level paper crammed into seven days with hardout academic students and workers from botanical gardens all around the country. So the anxiety that I would normally feel spread out over a whole term was crammed into these few days. Plus you’re sleeping in a room with strangers with no personal space and 7am starts. I was popping sleeping pills and freaking out and then I was like, ‘Y’know, well, whatever happens, happens and I just got to take in what I can take in and just try and enjoy being here. It’s real work [to think like that].’ Rita Angus used to go out [to the Cass Field Research Station] when it was just a shack to look at plants, it’s very romantic, the tussock grassland. We’d do day trips to DOC [Department of Conservation] land not normally accessible to the public to photograph specimens, learning about key characteristics and how to differentiate between family groups and that sort of thing. So I took in a lot and forgot a lot but it was a really good learning experience. It was only 10 days but so intense, I really thought I was going to fail but I got a B! [laughs]. Well, I’m glad that I’ve managed to catch you before your solo exhibition at Whitespace Contemporary Art. How did that relationship come about?

Justin Jade Morgan who I worked with at Depot Artspace, recommended me to take over his role as Central City Event Co-ordinator for Artweek Auckland, which Deborah White founded. She got in touch with me and I really enjoyed working with her and Marlaina Key for four consecutive Artweek programmes in that role.

This year however, I insisted that I was actually going to show my work and wouldn’t have time to do both. I didn’t have a venue but as I’m pretty used to finding unusual spaces to exhibit I was confident it would happen. I was just going to go hire a warehouse or something and put the work in there like what I would normally do. I’m not used to having any support really, I’m very DIY in that way and it’s always been like that.

Sometime after this had been arranged, she contacted me to say that although their main gallery space was full, they (Ken and Deborah) wanted to offer me the ‘salon’ side to host my exhibition. This was completely unexpected and a really wonderful breakthrough for me. They [Whitespace Contemporary Art] really have their eyes open to what’s happening and a lot of it has to do with Deborah’s work and her commitment to the arts. She got a medal, did you know that? A New Zealand Order of Merit from The Queen just a few weeks ago and she wasn’t even expecting it.

After my exhibition opening, an older couple were looking at my work in Whitespace while I was there and they were quite familiar with the species as they had studied biology and botany. I asked if they were involved with Auckland Bot Soc (botanical society) but they were from Canterbury. It turned out they courted while at the Cass Research centre and he would wait for her in the train station before they went on hikes together through the forest and tussock grasslands.

Erin’s exhibition at Whitespace Contemporary Art ends Sun 22 Oct.

(Images: Brendan Kitto, 2017)

#erinforsyth #postgraffitipacific #urbancontemporary #newzealand #southpacific #polynesia #postgraffiti #olivialaita

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