#I am doing the same workshop three times and it is so nice to not have to write a new one

[tuiliel]

Hail to Na Morrigna for abiding by my request, by taking the time owed them, and at the same time helping me lighten my load to avoid burnout this summer.

My trust in Na Morrigna expands, and my heart lightens 🖤

[cazzyf1]

Mike Hawthorn's Last Interview

From a magazine called 'Sports Car Wheel' published in August 1959

Mike Hawthorn picks the next champion - by Michael Priestley

A few hours before Britain's newly acclaimed Grand Prix Champion was killed in his green 3.4 Jaguar on the Guildford bypass, Surrey, England, our London correspondent Mike Priestley dropped in on our behalf to chat with his old friend. The two 'Mikes' discussed the future of the sport. We print this interview with respectful homage to a great driver and a nice guy who decorated the sport with his shining achievements and warm personality.

"Mike!" I asked as I pulled up outside the Farnham garage which bears the proud name 'Mike Hawthorn, Tourist Garage Ltd'. "What's the idea of retiring under 30?"

Mike Hawthorn gave me the familiar boyish grin I knew so well, a grin he often used to mask a hurt, and he had so many during his dazzling career.

"I don't know the real reason," he said, "I had to make up my mind whether to carry on racing or give up and run a business. I had reached the top, which is good for business, but after a while I would get worse, and people would soon forget."

"This business is growing. There is more and more work to do. We have had the new showroom for 15 or 18 months, but we still want new workshops."

At his garage, Mike sold Ferraris, Jaguars, Standards and Triumphs. His father, Leslie Hawthorn, owned the garage until he was killed in a road crash a few years ago. Hawthorn's mother and a family friend ran it together so that young Mike could carry on racing.

Some people said Hawthorn left the track to get married. Mike gave me a stock answer. "You'll get nothing out of me on that. It's definitely 'No comment'"

Surrounded by paintings of himself in action, Hawthorn confirmed that he would never race again on any track. But he was toying with the idea of doing the odd speed trial and rally now and again.

"I am obviously going to miss racing," he said, "Particularly when I go to a meet and see the Grand Prix cars on the grid."

Other racing, he said, didn't have the same attraction for him. Unlike Stirling Moss, he was never very interested in sports cars, although he drove plenty of them with great success.

"Frankly, I raced for the fun of the game," said Hawthorn. "I have to admit I never took it seriously like Stirling. I'd say I was lucky to get the championship by a single point."

What he most enjoyed was a battle royal with the masters of the sport. A wheel-to-wheel "dice" with Fangio meant more to him than all the fame and fortune he earned. "I made no elaborate plans to win the championship," he said, modestly. "I wanted to win, of course, but I'm afraid I never gave it much thought until the newspapers started building it up."

Although his success have been varied and numerous, Hawthorn won only three Grandes Epreuves. Even in his championship year, he scored only one outright win. Circumstances were often against him. When Mercedes swept the board, he was with Ferrari. When the Italians had regained supremacy, he had moved to B.R.M. In 1957, he rejoined Ferrari, only to find himself outpaced by the Maseratis and Vanwalls.

Hawthorn's memories of the past eight years must have been bitter-sweet indeed. He lived through high success and bleak failure, good health and bad, friendly publicity and cruel vendettas.

The press was wildly enthusiastic about Hawthorn in the early days, but later he was to learn that there is another side to publicity. In 1955, newspapers branded him as a draft dodger - for the thinly-veiled reason that National Service was in the news at the time - and the whole subject turned into a party squabble in Parliament.

Although the charges were later proved unfounded, the shameful attacks continued abated. One newspaper even started off again when Hawthorn returned home to attend his father's funeral.

Outside in the showroom, I saw two very interesting old cars. One was the Riley tuned by his father and driven by Hawthorn at the outset of his dazzling career. It was being completely rebuilt. The other was the sports Alfa-Romeo which won the 1934 Le Mans.

A notable absentee was Hawthorn's championship Ferrari, which he wanted to keep at Farnham. However, for reasons that must be more Latin than logical, Ferrari refused to let him have it, and the car will probably end its days in bits and pieces.

With the weight of the business on his broad young shoulders, Hawthorn admitted to finding time too short. He seemed preoccupied as he talked The biggest problem of his new life, he said, was the prospect of buckling down to it. He liked the gay life surrounding the sport, and his autobiography "Challenge me the race" contains several references to "Fantastic parties" "monumental hangovers" and other high jinks.

"I do like the idea of leading a quiet life," he admitted, not very convincingly. "But it looks as if it'll be difficult at the moment."

The conversation turned to the qualities desirable in a race track driver. "Let's get it clear from the start," Mike explained. I'm not the fearless type. I've been scared white on the track more often than I can remember, but what really scares me is being a passenger. When I'm being driven, I get really scared. At 40 or 50 mph, I suppose I'm all right, but after that, I go to pieces."

"Judgement and good reflexes are, I suppose, the first essential of a racing driver," he went on, "and I suppose you have to have IT. What's IT? Well it's a blend of good judgment and good reflexes - kind of fifth sense that comes into operation on the track. You could be the bravest man alive, and not get anywhere in racing without IT."

Hawthorn has another thing in common with most other racing drivers. He is superstitious, but not unusually so. He has never liked number One, and since his great friends Peter Collins and Luigi Musso were killed in cars bearing number Two, he had dodged that number also. Hawthorn refused the number Two at Morocco. Gendebien said he was not superstitious and took it. He was nearly killed in a serious crash.

"I like anything with a five in it," said Hawthorn, "I call that a comfortable number," He has never carried a "lucky" charm for fear of losing it.

The Hawthorn family originally lived in Yorkshire, but Leslie Hawthorn decided to move to Farnham to be near the Brookland circuit. It was there that young Mike saw his first race and the die was cast.

Right from the time when he "drove" an old Jowett on the starter motor - he was only eight at the time - he dreamed of racing. He had one priceless asset; his father, who knew the game inside out, both as driver, an engineer, and helped him all the way.

Mike Hawthorn, tinkered about with old motorbikes and modest motor cars, until his father acquired a couple of Rileys. Father and son entered for the 1950 Brighton Speed Trials. Leslie came second in the 1500 c.c. class. Mike won the 1100 c.c. class.

His real break came when a family friend, Bob Chase, brought a new Cooper-Bristol and let Hawthorn race it on condition that his father looked after it.

Hawthorn's debut at the Easter meeting at Goodwood in 1952 was fantastic. He beat such British experts as Abecassis, Wharton, Poore and Hamilton. Then he relentlessly trounced Fangio himself, when the master was also driving a Cooper-Bristol. After that, Mike never looked back, although bad luck was often to harry him.

After getting a fourth place in the Belgian Grand Prix at Spain, in 1952, Hawthorn went to Modena, Italy, to be tested by Ferrari. Unfortunately, he crashed his Cooper there, and, although he was not badly hurt, he felt groggy and unfit to race for a long time.

Ferrari signed him up for 1953. This was the year that Hawthorn drove his finest race, becoming the first Britisher to win the classic French Grand Prix since Sir Henry Segrave triumphed there in 1923.

As a first-year boy in the Ferrari team, he thus beat the great Fangio after a marathon duel, and soundly defeated Farina and Ascari.

Observers thought it was one of the most thrilling races ever, to see Fangio, the "Grand Old Man" of motor-racing, and then audacious "new boy" battling it out, using every clean trick in the book, for 150 miles - Hawthorn finally winning by a second.

Although he won the Sebring 12-Hours and the Le Mans 24 Hours and several other races, 1954 and 1955 were ill-fated years for Hawthorn.

Firstly, there were the disgraceful attacks on him over his Military Service commitments, which finally ended only when he was later rejected as medically unfit because of his kidney trouble and burns.

In 1955 there was more bad publicity when he was involved in the ghastly crash at Le Mans which killed over 80 people. No one was officially blamed after a long investigation, but some people tried to make the mud stick on Hawthorn.

To complete two dreadful years, Hawthorn's beloved father, Leslie, was killed in a road crash in England while Mike was in Italy In 1954.

In 1956, Ferrari decided that Hawthorn couldn't drive for him and Jaguar at the same time, so Mike bade him farewell for the time being and became a 'freelancer'.

It was in the fast but unreliable B.R.M that Hawthorn had his most fantastic racing car crash and escaped with an injured ankle. The car got out of control at 100 m.p.h at Goodwood, cartwheeled several times end over end, and finished upside down with a front wheel torn off. Hawthorn was back with Ferrari, with whom he stayed until his retirement.

The Vanwall won the Manufactures' World Championship this year, and because the British car was, by large and large, superior to the Ferrari, Hawthorn;s championship win was all the more admirable.

He didn't exactly 'nurse' his Ferrari, as had been suggested, but he showed a high degree of 'Mechanical sympathy' and this probably won him the world laurels, informing for a moment his supreme skill and fire.

In spite of the death of Peter Collins and Luigi Musso in Grand Prix racing last year, Hawthorn insisted that it is the safest form of racing there is. That is why he was against the new Formula One, which says that GP cars must conform to set standards of minimum weight and maximum power.

"It means putting a less powerful engine in the same weight chassis. With power you can get out of trouble by putting on throttle. If you reduce the power, nothing is going to happen when you put your foot down to regain control," he told me.

Outside of racing, Hawthorn's interests were limited, both by time and inclination. He sometimes reads thrillers, war books and historical works, but he has no enthusiasm for the Arts or politics. However he had a passion for flying. In 1957 he brought a lightweight Vega Gull which he piloted "quite a lot".

He often used it to get from track to track in Europe. At Hamburg, when Peter Collins and his American wife were on board, the engine failed just after take-off. Mike pulled off the impossible. He made a forced landing on the main runway, down-wind.

Afterwards he found out that a Convair liner had landed at the same time, on the same runway- from the opposite direction. "I didn't see it at all," reminisced Hawthorn. "Guess I was born lucky that way,"

He hoped to do some air racing one day, he said, but he didn't know anything about it at the time. The idea just appealed to him. Motor racing was always the consuming passion of his life, because his childhood was filled with race track impressions; his father being an automotive engineer and racing driver in the golden days of Brooklands.

Hawthorn's private transport was a Jaguar 2.3 which he has "modded" up to series production racing standards. "I can't think of any other car which can meet my needs as well," he explained. "It is good value for money it goes extremely fast. It corners quite well, and there is plenty of room, what more could you want?"

Discussing who would be the next world champion, Hawthorn tipped Phil Hill "Stirling moss is the best driver racing today," he said, "but I think a combination of Phil Hill and Ferrari will do it,"

As I prepared to leave, Mike apologised for being so busy, shook hands, flashed a cheerful grin and dashed away to a business appointment. He was still wearing a sports jacket.

As a nod to the business career ahead of him however, the wonder boy of the track had relinquished his characteristic bowtie for a more conservative and business-like neck-wear. This I took to be the first sign of Mike's "knuckling down" to the job ahead.

[sweetmariihs2]

Look at what arrived today 🫶🫶 (there's still more on the way but they didn't arrived yet)

Unfortunately there's only one page where Cedric is in, in the Wassailia magazine. Today I discovered that each magazine revolves specifically around that theme, so in a Wassailia themed magazine there will only be Wassailia themed activities. I don't know why I thought that there would be activities unrelated to the main theme. All of the Wassailia magazine pages are related to Wassailia, the same way that in the costume party magazine the activities all talk about this topic. I guess it makes sense.

In my country there's only 5 available magazines to buy. Two come together (these ones), other two also come together, and there's one that I'm almost DYING to put my hands on that it's the Cedric's apprentice magazine and it's available to buy separately.

Also we got an extra content about what happened to Cedric in the first Wassailia episode! He probably spent his whole holiday in his workshop. Sofia came to visit him and she gave him a snow globe as a gift and he loved it💗

That's the only image of him that we have. I don't know if I should share the whole magazines because I'm afraid of being accused of piracy😭😭😭

But I don't know, the magazines are from 2016 and it's a hell to find their content. I literally had to buy them to see what's inside! And you can say "well if the fans want to see what's inside then yes they should buy it," but it's really difficult to find, and I know that there are people out there who really wanted to own them but they can't since it's not even selling anywhere anymore. I don't know about your contry but in mine there were just 5 available and I bought all of em, and that's because I searched for hours. While I do have some of them and I can share, which is something that I saw some other magazine owners refusing to do.

And I really don't blame them, since some posts that I found were indeed from 2010's and at that time those magazines were still being produced. They wanted to support the artists involved and that is honestly a very noble thing to do! That's why I'm torn too, because I'm an artist myself and it would be nice to have my work properly sold and not just shared everywhere with absolutely no remuneration.

But yeah, after years since those posts were published, now I'm in the STF fandom and searching for all possible Cedric content and merch I can find on the internet and it's being such a torture to search for these magazines since they're not produced, commercialized or even remembered anymore. Some of the images I have are so poorly photographed and framed, poor lighting, bad quality camera, and I can't even know the context behind the illustrations because most of the time there is no information or even the complete image! Which makes me a little mad because if at the time the magazines were being produced, if fans had saved images or shared the magazines, we wouldn't have had so much trouble finding them today. It is obvious that after years on the market, products are being destroyed and becoming more scarce. The main audience for these magazines are children and the magazine encourage children to cut, paint and doodle, so many copies of these magazines simply ended up in the trash or are completely torn up. It's the correct way to use them after all.

It's almost lost media, but luckily there is still someone somewhere in the world who has them in their entirety after more or less 10 years since they were published. Many of the collectors from 2016 today may not even have their collections anymore, as was the case with a blog that unfortunately lost its collection in a flood and which had some of the magazines. I am literally so amazed by the fact that I have discontinued and untouched products in my hands, and in my language, which is even more unlikely to happen. There's only three left to arrive!

I think I should share these images while I can, as later there may not be any more copies available to buy or even view. If fans are no longer going to be able to buy it because of its rarity, then I at least think they should see what's inside. And the rarity it's not even because they're coveted products, it's just that they're forgotten! People care so little about them that it's starting to disappear and no one will care enough to sell or share it, as is already happening now. After all, it's just a silly Sofia The First activity magazine, but it's very important for us fans, at least the few who know about its existence. And all the copies available for viewing or sale don't even pay the artists anymore, as it's been around for many years and these products are surrounded by resellers. There is no longer any way to buy from the artists hoping that they will get a return, because they won't, the 2010s are over and so are the magazine publications.

I'm really thinking about sharing them, but I'm afraid of being misinterpreted or accused of disrespecting those artist's work. Disney it's literally not producing and selling them anymore at all, and they're really hard to find to buy, so I guess that sharing while I can is a viable option, and it's an act of kindness for other fans, who won't go crazy wondering what's inside knowing that no one has ever shared it and they won't ever do. I really wish 2016 fans had shared it at that time because today we would have images of copies that are no longer available for purchase. Real rare stuff!

So yeah, please tell me your opinions about this... I'm really afraid of doing something I shouldn't and disrespecting those artists in the process. But at the same time, well... they're not involved in this anymore. So I don't know.

[emmetverse]

Usually, Threes and Spark would come up with a hypothetical. Some random, impossible situation, and discuss what they'd do if they were in it. It was fun! It passed the time, and they got a good bit of mental exercise out of it.

If Threes had to listen to these two yap for one more goddamn second, he was going to break something. 

It seemed like everything Roach did just got to him. And in his defence, a full day of anything would get annoying eventually. Including, but not limited to: making inappropriate jokes about them all dying, randomly swerving to walk 'around things' despite it being empty land, nearly forgetting the cart-sled-thing several times thanks to talking to ghosts...

And now, they'd finally sit down to rest, maybe even have a nap, and he was too busy pacing around to just sit the hell down.

Rex was talking about something. Some 'funny raptor story' that neither of them were even pretending to listen to. Impressive, considering that he kept kicking Threes' foot to get him to focus. And yet, he kept going on. And on. And on.

Threes' mind wandered back home, to the others. They should probably check in, huh?

His hand wandered to his pocket. Nothing. He sat up, feeling over the other side. Nothing.

... Right.

That goddarn cat.

"You got your phone?"

Rex glared, mouth still half-way through forming a word. He huffed and rolled his eyes dramatically before responding. "I don't have one."

"Roach?"

The man jumped, stopping in his tracks and looking over.

"Huh?"

"You got your phone?"

"Left it in the workshop."

"Of course you did..." Threes threw his hands in the air and flopped backwards into the sand. "Of course. Of course! Why would either of you have any forethought?"

Rex raised an eyebrow. "What? Because you're soooo smart?"

"I'm not! That's the worrying part!"

"It's fiiine. Relax." Roach smiled widely. "They don't need to know our every move! Sometimes, when we're all at camp, we won't see each other for days and nobody worries. Why would they worry now?"

"Correction," Rex muttered, "We don't see you for days."

"Tomayto, tomahto."

"That's not even-"

"Didn't ask." Roach finally plopped himself down in the sand. Somehow that was worse than the pacing. "We'll be fine. I don't think it wants us dead."

Both paused. Threes raised an eyebrow.

"'It'?"

"Eh."

"That's not an answer."

"Congrats. Can we keep going now?"

Rex huffed. "In case you hadn't noticed, we've been walking all day."

"Time doesn't exist here." He gestured. "And Threes isn't tired yet!"

"I am, actually. Very. Especially of both of you."

"Yikes," Rex muttered.

Threes didn't give them a chance to keep talking. He threw his arm over his face, nestling into his elbow in a vague attempt to block out the world. He heard Rex mutter something else under his breath, but from the silence that followed, it seemed safe to assume he was attempting some kind of rest, too.

Not that it would last long. Before he could even exhale, he heard the sand shift as someone stood, and began pacing again. Back, forth, back forth. It's fine. He could ignore it. Don't some people fall asleep to the sound of white noise? And sure, the irregularity didn't get to him too much. Sometimes irregular things are more fun. Makes the music exciting. If everything was the same beat then it'd be boring. Super boring. This was fine. More than fine. Nice relaxing sleep sounds. Yup.

Threes shoved himself up.

"Can't you stop for five minutes at least?!"

Roach jumped a little, spinning to look at him. "Someone needs to keep lookout."

"You can do that standing still."

"I'd rather not."

The cyborg threw his head backwards and groaned loudly.

"This is why you don't come on expeditions."

He blinked. "... I thought it was because I 'wander off'."

"It's because you're an idiot. So yeah, I guess you could say that's part of it." Threes pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just- if you want to stay up, fine. But we've been walking for hours and the two of us need sleep. And you probably need sleep too."

"No, I.. I slept yesterday."

"That's how sleep-! Ugh."

Roach swallowed. He kicked the sand with his foot. "I don't want to just sit here. How about... You two sit on the sled-cart-thing, and I pull you while you rest?"

"There isn't enough room-"

"But you guys want to rest! And we- we can get there really fast, right? Yeah," he added with a nervous chuckle. "That sounds like a good idea to me."

"No. It's not." Threes pushed himself up. His legs felt like jelly. "Just- just sit. You don't have to sleep. Just sit."

"I'd really rather not-"

"Roach." Threes grabbed his arm, stopping him dead in his tracks. "Just-"

He yanked himself away, staggering a little with the effort.

"No."

And gosh, Threes was trying with every fibre of his being to stay calm. "You're keeping us awake."

"I don't- staying still out in the open is bad-"

"Not having a lookout is bad, staying still while we rest is-"

"Please, just- just sit on the cart-thing?"

"You agreed that I'd be the one in charge while we're out here!"

"And you're a lousy boss!" He was shaking. "We're gonna- staying out in the open like this is dangerous! We're going to get hurt! Anything could sneak up on us or- or fly down and grab us-"

"FOR UPSTAIRS' SAKE, YOU'RE NOT IN UNDAR ANYMORE!"

His words seemed to echo in the nothingness.

"I know this is how you survived but we're not there, we don't need to follow your arbitrary rules. There's nothing here! Nothing lives here except us! I don't care what you see, I don't care what you believe. None of your weird cave paintings are real. Nothing is going to hurt us. You are just a sad, lunatic old man! The only reason any of us deal with you is because you could kill us with one hand, then you'd probably paint our portraits with our own blood and then forget we ever died!" Threes gestured roughly, nearly shoving Roach before thinking better of it.

And Roach just stared. Unwavering, unblinking eye contact. His expression was blank. He didn't say a word.

The cyborg felt his mouth go dry. He stepped back, taking even himself a little by surprise with the action. And then he snarled.

"Just sit. And rest."

He didn't wait to see if the other did. He caught just a glimpse of Rex's shocked expression as he turned, and set himself back down where he had before, tucked in next to the cart. All he wanted to do was punch and scream but goddarnit that wouldn't prove his point. Insead he just forced his eyes closed, forced his heart to slow at least a little, and tried to get at least a moment of sleep.

[misty-zzz]

Chapter 9

Finally writing block had let me go, off to its next victim 🤷

It’s a tad bit of a shorter chapter, but I think it’s a nice one :)

The Wubbox offered its gifts. Shiney clear stones, filled with potential. Dragong steals them right as he lays eyes on the valuables. He shut his eyes, but his concentration was halted by Auglur. They motioned some towards Dragong, he immediately remembers what he’s supposed to do. Not for the gems. He places the three gems on the goopy ground, and clears his throat.

“Thank you… for these supplies…” his eyes scatter around, avoiding any sort of eye contact. Auglur pushes him foward. “And, uhm- these will be a great help for me, and… I am appreciative of it.” He smiles quite awkwardly. Auglur eyes hint in a faint smile. Can’t tell too much of emotion in a floating eyeball flower. Tootoo smiles back, “It’s our pleasure!” She says.

“Anyways, back to this, I’ve finally remembered what I had to do.” Dragong crushes the crystals under his weight. He continued until it was fine dust — but it was just what he needed. He gathers the pile of dust up, and spits right into his palm. This is what magic is like for the monsters. A tad bit strange, but what’s needed.

Fiddlement seemed a tad bit disgusting by the now ball of spit and fine dust. Dragong carefully shapes the mixture into a round fire emblem, somehow able to with his cymbal hands. “Magic for us is weird. I’m not sure how our ancestors found out about this.” Dragong finished the reshaping of the mixture. So he does as he remembers, and places it on top of his forehead.

The orange sludge seeps into his skin and scales, his eyes are shut, and there was a faint glow of red radiating from him. His eyes peel back open. His magic was back, at least for fire balls.

“Did it work?! Fiddlement eagerly tilted forward. Dragong moves over to an area with no one. He draws out the same symbol mid air.

The symbol makes a light carve in the air, quickly becoming a cloud of fire. It shoots out, blasting the wall of the workshop. Gunks of the wall goop fly in every direction. “I did it!” Dragong’s wings burst up. “Oh how I missed magic!” He grins with his sharp teeth.

There were a couple of more explosions from Dragong. Eventually they decided the time had to come. Dragong was going to leave the hole. He’ll miss the triple element ethereals, sadly they aren’t able to join along.

“Don’t tell them about us.” Auglur plead the four. “I don’t want us to be found out by the mythicals. Especially after all I’ve heard from Dragong.” She sighs. “I promise, only we will know.” Tootoo assured her.

“Maybe I’ll come back here every once in a while.” Dragong thought out loud.

They headed off to the outside. Finally Dragong will smell some fresh air. For someone who had been trapped in a cave for so long, he really was a bundle of energy. He bounces on the walls, exploding everything in his path. The only area Wubbox forced Dragong to stop was the areas with the cave paintings.

Along this area, Dragong had a moment to slow down. “Sorry about that, way earlier.” He starts apologizing for seemingly nothing. “For what?” Fiddlement questioned. “That thing with auglur, how she made me say thank you and that stuff.” Dragong grumbled. “We’ve been working on our manners, I guess.” He went on “We knew that eventually we would have to see other monsters eventually. And we didn’t want them to see us as rude or anything.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that!” Tootoo exclaimed. “I’d rather have someone be kind than to be mean when I first meet them!”

“I guess I just kinda saw it as awkward.” Dragong drags along the dirt path.

With a few back rides on Dragong, and a whole lot of walking. They had done it. Now Dragong will reintroduce himself. A new era for him!

He takes his last breath of cave air, and his first in a while of ethereal air. But everything besides the air was ethereal. A group of monsters stood a couple of feet away.

“A little tweedle told me that someone was going inside that cave.” Laughed the small, stout, orange monster. “Is that-”

“The mythicals!” Dragong cuts off Tootoo. “Why in the name of galvana are you here?” Dragong snapped. He hated that Buzzinga. “For you, of course. Eventually you would wake up, we knew it wasn’t permanent.” The edges of his mouth curl. Something bad was about to happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some silly notes::::

GUYSSSSS AAAAAHHAHAHAH

I’m SO excited to write the next chapter, FIGHTING AND ARGUING, LETSSS GOOOO!!!!

Also I kinda want to write a part 2 to fate of the stars, but then there’s another one shot in my mind too. Augahagah. I think I’ll write part 2 when all the adult celestials are released. Okay I think I’m going to go insane. 💃🏼🕺🏼🕺🏼💃🏼🕺🏼🕺🏼🕺🏼💃🏼💃🏼💃🏼💃🏼

[pbandjesse]

Today was such a great day. For real I just had such a good time. I wish I walked a little more. But I got a lot of steps in and I will try more every time.

I slept okay last night. Waking up was hard but James was there. They made the bed while I got dressed. And honestly my outfit wasn't my best choice. I would end up a little to cold. But that was okay.

I was still sure I needed to wash my hair tonight but a hat would make me feel better today. James left and I would follow soon after. They had put some dumplings in a container for me and made me a bagel. They take care of me so much.

I had a nice drive out. When I forst got outside I was shocked to see that the little maroon car that has been parked in the same spot since March 2020 is gone????? Where did it go??? A dirt patch was left in it's place.

I drove out to came and got there around 8. I was proud of myself for driving to the right buildings in the right order be susd I saved myself so much time.

I would walk around and make sure everything was where it was supposed to be. And then to the lodge to read over my papers to make sure I had some stuff to fill in the time of my intro. Which is getting better but could still improve.

Soon I would go and find some of my parents volunteers at the office. I was over there getting my knitting. But it was good timing. I brought those three over to the lodge. Gave them the map and walkie and sent them off. Because they would need to find their spaces and get set up and got real the parents today were so on top of it. They were some of the best chaperones I have had.

They brought so much stuff! 8 logs! 10 bags of popcorn! Wipes! String! Jerky! So excellent. And slowly all the other parents came and I would send them off.

And they would do so good. A little before 10 the buses came. And both drivers knew Walter and were happy to hear her retired and was enjoying his time. The teachers had all been here before too. And it was nice to not feel like everyone was confused.

And they were such good kids too. They came in and we got started so fast. So I did my whole intro and was basically done at 1005. When I should be done at 1020. Oops.

So I explained the schedule. And the map. I should have done rules right away but forgot. I would do it before they left but oops. We broke into our animal groups. And then a bathroom break. And then they were off!!

I had a great day. It was snowing just a little. It would eventually become rain. And my coat did pretty well. I am going to do another layer of waterproofing but I am very pleased so far.

I would spend some time wandering. Checking in on everyone. And just. Exploring a bit. I would read. And catch up on my knitting. And have a snack. I would give 5 minute warnings and make sure everyone has everything they needed. And it was just such a lovely day.

I would also go and talk to Elizabeth about being full time. She told me that they are offering this role and one more full time position because of a grant. So that's awesome. And she thinks what I'm going to ask for it reasonable. She put a meeting for me with Alexi to talk about it on the 21st. So fingers crossed that goes well??

I would also talk to Heather later. About how I would need a new laptop to do the job well. And she gave me the contact of someone who used to be at camp who runs a space and is looking for more artists to do workshops! So that's awesome.

And then!! I finally got an email back from the craft castle about workshops and he wants to meet up to chat this week! Ah! Things are going so well. I really feel like financially I am starting to get a handle on things.

My foot would hurt a bit. I split it open a bit and so I stopped walking as much. But I would still check on everyone.

At lunch I went to heat my dumplings up. I read for a little. And then went to tell them to all ehsd to their programs. But then a dad started a screaming competition??? I was baffled. Like we were going to be out of there a minute or so early. But because oft this weird game we were almost late. Thankfully we would remain on time for the last two and I didn't have to stress.

I would make sure everyone knew the best and most helpful way to clean up at the end of the day. And then everyone would head back to the lodge.

We did a debrief. And I asked them lots of questions. Tried to help them make connections. But they were already so smart they were just so lovely.

Once it was time to go I handed the "mic" over to the head teacher and she would get them all on the bus. And then we said goodbye. What a nice day.

It would take me a while to make my way around collecting all the objects. I tried to put everything outside so getting it on the gater would be quick. But it still took me a while. I would head to the office and get the keys and even though it was raining and cold I was having fun driving around. And continued to be very proud of myself for doing tight k turns .

Once everything was loaded up I went to talk to Heather for a while. Love her. She's always the best.

And then texted James to ask about doing chipotle for dinner. It would start to rain again and I made the call to go straight to the museum. We would go and get chipotle together.

The drive to the museum was good though. Some traffic. Saw an accident. But I just enjoyed the drive and would get to the museum by 4.

And James would come out to meet me and we drove over to get dinner.

We ate and talked and the food was good and I was happy. But I was getting really tired.

My evening plans were light. Take off my nail polish. Wash my hair. Draw some sticker ideas (we are thinking about making themed packs. Baltimore being the first theme obviously).

And when we got home I would plan on jumping right into washing up but James beat me to the bathroom. So I went to cast some bears in resin. But I accidently splashed all my resin everywhere and it was a huge mess and I was super upset. James helped me clean it and then I went and took my nail polish off and washed my hair.

And I felt a little better after that. My hair looks and feels a lot better. I would fix my resin bears. And then in bed to work on my stickers. I made a Poe and a John Waters. I am afraid the Poe looks like Vincent Price but I love how they both look. And then it would just be cuddling with Sweetp and watching videos.

Now it is late. James was doing their podcast and had now joined me in bed. I ams really tired. Mostly my body. I am looking forward to two days off.

Tomorrow I want to do some clothes sorting. And then some cleaning. And maybe some art but I don't have any for sure plans around that. I just want to have a chill and good day.

I also hope I can sleep great. I hope you all sleep great too!!! Good night!! Love you!!

[johnny-kobayakawa-television2015]

Thomas and Friends: Sodor Online Journeys (Story 17): Trouble in The Shed

The Fat Controller/Sir Topham Hatt sat in his office listening to the noise outside. The Passengers were angry. The Stationmaster knocked and came in. "There's trouble in the shed, Sir. Henry is sulking. There's no train, and the passengers are saying this is a bad railway." "Indeed." said the Fat Controller/Sir Topham Hatt. "We cannot allow that!"

He found Gordon, James and Henry looking very cross. "Come along, Henry. It's time your train is ready." "Henry's not going." said Gordon. "We won't shunt like common/little tank engines. That's Thomas's Job. We're important tender engines. you fetch our coaches, and we will pull them. Tender engines don't shunt!" "Oh indeed!" said the Fat Controller. "We'll see about that. Engines on my railway do as they are told."/"We'll see about that." said Sir Topham Hatt. "No engine on my railway is too important for small jobs." and he hurried away to find Edward. "The Yard has never been the same since Thomas left to run his Branch Line." he thought sadly.

Edward was shunting in the yard. "Leave those trucks/freight cars please, Edward." said the Fat Controller/Sir Topham Hatt. "I want you to push coaches for me in the yard." "Thank you, Sir. That will be a nice change." "That's a good engine. Off you go then. " So Edward found the coaches for the three engines, and that day the trains ran as usual.

But the next morning, Edward looked unhappy. Gordon came clanking past hissing rudely at him. "Bless me!" said the Fat Controller/Sir Topham Hatt. "What a noise!" "They all hiss at me, Sir." answered Edward. "Why?" "Because they say "Tender Engines Don't Shunt", and last night they say that I have black/grey wheels. I haven't, have I, Sir?" "No, Edward. You have nice blue ones, and I am proud of you. Tender Engines do shunt, but all the same you'd be happier on your own branch line like Thomas's. In fact, we need a tank engine here."

He went to a workshop, and they showed him all sort of tank engines. Then he saw a smart little green engine with four wheels. "That's the one." he thought. "If I choose you, will you work hard for me?" "Oh, Sir! Yes, Sir!" "That's a good engine. I'll call you Percy. "Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir!" said Percy, as the Fat Controller/Sir Topham brought him to the Yard.

"Edward." he called. "This is Percy. Will you show him everything?" Percy soon learnt what he had to do, and they had a happy afternoon. Then Henry came by hissing as usual. "Watch this. Wheesh!" went Percy. "Yikes!" Henry jumped, and ran back to the shed. "How beautifully you wheeshed him." laughed Edward. "Even though I can't wheesh like that." "Oh," said Percy. "That's nothing. You should hear them in the Workshop. You have to wheesh loudly to make yourself heard."

Next Morning, Thomas arrived. "The Fat Controller/Sir Topham Hatt sent me here. I expect he wants help." he said importanly to Edward. "Shh! Shh! Here he comes." replied Edward. "Well done, Thomas. You've been quick. Listen, Henry, Gordon and James are sulking because they say that they won't like common/little tank engines, so I have shut them up, and I want you two to run the line for a while." "Common/Little Tank Engines indeed!" snorted Thomas. "We'll show them." "And Percy will help too." "Oh, Sir! Yes, Sir. Please, Sir!" peeped Percy.

Edward and Thomas worked on the Main Line, greeting each other as they pass by. Percy puffed along the Branch Line. Thomas was anxious about Annie and Clarabel, but both Driver and Guard/Conductor promise to take care of them.

There were fewer trains, but the passengers didn't mind. They knew that the three other engines were having a lesson. Gordon, James and Henry were cold, lonely, and miserable. They wished now they hadn't been so silly.

Story End

[nettblur01]

For this workshop, I had been using different acrylic paint, but this time, my tutor encouraged me to choose the colours and mix them on the pot and gave coverage. I could save them for the next lesson and the amount for the acrylic paint. I used primary colours again, mixing primary red, primary cygnet, and primary yellow, plus I used white so I could improve the darker layers to lighter ones. Today it was 3 course we used. I was now mentioning that I use cartridge papers for all my drawings. The quality, maybe as for painting with acrylic, is questionable, but not always about the materials we use. It's always about how we are applying and water amount and the paint amount. But also, the paint dries quickly, and I have to watch out for my paper to turn thinner and easily rip or rips when I paint.

I enjoy working with acrylic, although it is not my strength, so I am much more confident applying large, fun brushes to create lines because this is not about the precise job I have to do on my drawings. Correct, how would you like me to be? How do you dream? I put it very nicely and begin it all working with colour, but the instructions, I mean, they can all say I’m ignoring instructions, but don’t hear them review your painting something, and your job is to see.

I need to improve the mixing and how I present my work and also practice my time management. The voice told the story, so we got three instructions. Now you have the instructions: fill the paper with the colour, get the colours, and the colours you’re using to get them working. See how they work? OK, the second instruction is to make up the different sorts of applications you think of because all you do is fill in the paper, so you don’t have to worry about getting every bit of Megan right, but the third is what the story is.

same time you had, but you have to rearrange and think about them in a different way, and that takes time, but you Gotta do the thinking what who knows. Mark so you can you can you can keep

The variety, you cannot have one colour without black is the colour oh it’s about all the light bounces off so tell me the paper different types of Mark I thought about everybody different ways no be careful famous.

The red and blu intensive fill did not just just the paper but as colour could draw attention to the warm and cool colour differences. When I mixed it into purple and white, the white became lilac even darker because the blue had a strong dark out of the purplish black. I learned yellow, red and white quite often create a magenta colour, not just orange but also yellow if I add more turns into orange-yellow, and I could layer up with red with red-orange or peach nude colours. I also could make lilac if I used red, yellow, white, and a small amount of blue. I wanted to imitate colours and acrylic paint lines and outcomes for my next lesson. Also, my time range with colour mixing is better if I stick with large brushes. I also need to manage the small brushes and try to be inspired by my classmate's techniques.

Today's model used my prop tools because I wanted inspiration from natural forest animals and hallucinations of Indians. It's better to request the next model to wear my props until my projects are due. It's okay if I sometimes connect my work out of life better inspiration and vision may be a bit of a fine art, but I personally believe Beatrice Potter's ways and her childhood journey with her animals are more like a language communication with work. My communication is from life with toys, people, and sculpture statutes.

[caramariafilm]

A TIGHT SPOT - Secondary Role For Film Workshop

SHOOT DAYS!!

The day was finally here!

The shooting schedule was at odd times due to the fact we were shooting in the corner shop when it was open - excluding a two hour night shoot after the owner had closed.

This meant early starts!! Day one was a morning shoot then a night shoot with day two being a night shoot. I’ll be talking about the three separate shoots as if they were separate days just to make things easier, however it was over the course of two days!!

DAY ONE

We arrived on base at 0730 with the corner shop opening at 8am. During this time, I set up all my props so it would be easier to take down and get ready straight away. I also helped mic up Cerys while I was waiting :)

Once we got into the store, I introduced myself properly to the owner and just explained what my role was and asked if he would be comfortable with me being behind the counter to reset props. He was really lovely and said he’s straight away, offering help too. I set the props up really easily and was ready to go!!

Here’s the props in their homes :)

For this shoot, my job was pretty similar to THOM, I was just in charge of resetting the props that I had made!! I was also asked to be stills photographer on shoot when I wasn’t resetting props, a job I was honoured to do!

This shoot was loads and loads of fun :) best set I’ve been on for sure. Everyone was super calm and just all friendly with each other but still making sure we were on schedule and all the work was getting done. Vanessa and I worked really really well from the start of this project. Keeping in touch with each other with any help we needed and just up to date, I just absolutely loved working with her! And on set was no different :D

Arriving on set we realised we needed to block some of the daylight out as this was supposed to take place at night. So we got some spare bits of paper and started blocking light out where necessary.

The first day shoot went super smoothly and was only a couple hours long.

SECOND DAY

This was the night shoot. We did some interior shots but the priority for this shoot was the exteriors.

The set up was just the exact same as the first day, I took pictures for continuity of the props - Vanessa did the same for the tip jar - and once these were reset, it was smooth sailing.

Again this shoot was only a couple of hours so it went by super fast.

However I did get a new exciting job for the outside shots! Umbrella holder for sound!

This was honestly really nice:) obviously there wasn’t any production design to be done in these shots as it was the main character running into the shop from different angles as back ups, so I just kept the boom in shelter when takes were happening to ensure no damage to the equipment :)

Here’s me doing a great job of holding an umbrella!

DAY THREE

Final day..! I was pretty tired since I had only gotten a few hours of sleep but we must persevere!! I was still really excited and just being on set was lots of fun! Everyone was considerate of everyone else and all were ready to lend a hand if needed.

Similar to the last two shoots, I had to go in, set up my props and keep an eye on them between takes.

This is where I feel like I made a pretty big mistake, only making two of the Gribbons king size back ups.

I should’ve made more versions to be honest, or figured out a way to make them sturdier as they were losing their shape by the final shoot. Vanessa and I tried our best to fix them when we could but there wasn’t much we can do. I take the blame for this one, I had made my packets structurally sound for a regular condom packet but didn’t take into consideration the battering they’d get over the shoots, with our actors grabbing them pretty harshly over and over. The final day was also when we got the insert of the condom packet which meant:

It looked more like this :/

Now this isn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened by far, however I am just annoyed at myself for not having more backups specifically for inserts.

Next time, I will make specific props for inserts and make them much more structurally sound, using thicker card and lining it with more card, also speaking to the actors about handling the props.

That all being said, I am still over the moon with the job I did. I’ll talk about this in my critical reflection too but this was my first time for making props like these and despite the condom packet setback, I was still really happy with what I had made.

[rj-drive-in]

Drunk Science Department:

Another in our continuing series of tales of scientists abusing alcohol.

INFINITY MEANS INFINITY © 2023 by Rick Hutchins

By the time I got to Boston, I was nearly frantic. It had been almost a week since Professor George had suddenly stopped posting on our common forums and five days since he had failed to show up for the regular Chat. His online friends had quickly become worried; the professor was as regular as clockwork. As someone who knew him IRL from several meet-ups, it fell to me to track him down, to make sure he was all right. After all, he was not exactly a young man and was as prone to accident or illness as anyone else.

But he did not respond to PMs or emails. He did not pick up the phone or answer voice mails. IMs and texts were equally useless. The mood on the forums began to grow more pessimistic. Of course, it was not unusual for people to lose interest in online chatter and drift away– it happened all the time– but this was uncharacteristic of the professor. We all felt that something was terribly wrong.

As luck would have it, I was to be in Washington on business the following week, so it was no trouble to leave a couple of days early and insert a layover at Logan into my itinerary. The professor had hosted one of our meet-ups, a mere eighteen months earlier, at a cookout on his property, so I knew exactly where he lived. It was a nice old home in Ipswich, less than an hour north of the airport by car. He lived alone.

My flight was late in arriving, as usual, but my rented car was waiting for me and I headed out without delay. Needless to say, throughout the trip I continued my attempts to contact him by all the usual means, but he remained as silent as ever.

When I pulled into his driveway about three oclock in the afternoon, his car was parked there and his house showed no outward signs of trouble. It was a two-storey home, more than a century old, weather-worn from the ocean and gray as a summer storm, but well kept up, its small, grassy yard ringed by high hedges. I walked up to the side door on the open porch that we had used during the meet-up and rang the doorbell. When there was no response, I opened the screen door and knocked on the glass window of the inner door.

For ten minutes I continued ringing and knocking, my knuckles rapping louder and louder with each attempt. I alternated back and forth between the glass and the wood, not sure which was louder; I began to fear the old glass would shatter. But nobody answered and there were no sounds from within.

I took a deep breath and considered calling the police. In my mind’s eye, I saw the professor lying dead on the floor of his lab, having been stricken by a sudden heart attack or aneurysm; or twisted and broken at the foot of the stairs or in the bathtub, having tripped or slipped. The sensible thing to do would have been to call the police, but in my heart of hearts I am the same as everyone else– a coward afraid of making a fool of himself.

So I tried the doorknob.

It opened. The door was unlocked. God help me, I thought. I was committed.

A kind of anxious fog engulfed me, a slow and surreal haze of fear, as I entered the man’s house uninvited. “Professor?” I called softly. Then more loudly, “Professor George? Are you home? It’s me, MandelbrotFan, from GalacticBBS.”

There was no answer. The side door opened into his kitchen. There was no overt sign of trouble. Plenty of dirty dishes in the sink, an unwashed frying pan on the stove and a green rubber trash barrel on the verge of overflowing were normal for someone living alone. There was a small pile of unopened mail and a newspaper on the kitchen table. The date on the newspaper was the day before, giving me my first cause for optimism.

I moved into the living room area, separated from the kitchen only by a stained-wood countertop, and toward the door leading to the basement. The basement was where the professor kept his workshop and that was where he spent most of his time, working on his invention. That was where I was most likely to find him.

The door was ajar– it was the old kind with a brass knob and a lock compatible with a skeleton key– and creaked softly when I pushed it open. I stood at the top of the old wooden stairs, homemade by a previous owner decades in the past, and was relieved to see the yellow glow of artificial light down there from off to the left.

“Professor?” I called again. “Professor George? Are you home? It’s your friend, MandelbrotFan, from GalacticBBS.”

There was no reply.

Taking a deep breath, I went down the stairs and made the hairpin turn at the bottom to face the back of the basement, the large area away from the furnace that the professor had turned into his workshop. It was much as I remembered it from my previous visit. Shelves of tools and parts against two walls, an old rumbling refrigerator, work lights hanging from hooks in the ceiling, black and orange extension cords and surge suppressors in a tangled web on the floor, the old couch and coffee table off to the side– and, of course, taking up the most space, the professor’s invention.

The couch was situated at an angle, its back toward me, so it was a moment before I saw that the professor was sitting in it, his legs stretched out with his feet propped on the coffee table. My heart surged for a moment, then was gripped by an icy fist of fear when I realized he wasn’t moving.

“Professor?” I said, but my voice came out as a whisper. I cleared my throat and then tried again, more loudly. “Professor? Professor, are you all right? It’s me, MandelbrotFan from GalacticBBS.”

For a second that seemed to stretch on forever, nothing happened. Then he stirred and pushed himself up, turning his head toward me over the back of the couch. Even in that first moment, I could tell that his face had become more lined, that his long hair and beard and mustache had grown more gray. He pushed his thick glasses up on his nose and peered at me, blinking, as if he had just woken up.

“Mandelbrot? Is that you?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

“We were all worried about you, Prof,” I said. Prof is the username that the professor is known by on all the science forums. “Nobody has heard from you in a week and you haven’t answered any messages.”

“A week,” he said slowly. “Has it been that long?”

Until now, I had remained standing at the foot of the stairway, but now I began to move cautiously forward. “Yes,” I replied. “We were afraid something had happened to you. What have you been doing?”

He gestured toward his invention with his right hand, and I saw that he was holding a half-empty bottle of liquor.

“My life’s work,” he said bitterly.

His invention– his life’s work– bore a vague resemblance to the time machine in the old George Pal movie. Okay, very vague. It looked more like a stationary exercise bike hooked up to a couple of gutted and re-purposed PCs and a 60s-era Hi Fi system. There was also a pegboard with a jumble of soldered wires and a dozen vacuum tubes. On one side of the machine there was a bank of six car batteries in series arrangement and on the other side another bank of four car batteries in parallel arrangement. On the handlebars were strapped an iPad, with the back pulled off, and a couple of controllers that looked like they came from an Xbox, all wired into the gutted PCs.

“The Dimensional Traveler?” I asked. “What’s wrong? Did it fail?” A generous question, since nobody really believed it had a chance of working.

“No,” he replied, with a laugh that sounded more like a choke. “It works. It works exactly as predicted, down to the last decimal place.” He sniffed and took a swig from the bottle and I realized belatedly that he was dead drunk.

I strayed casually across the basement to the machine and looked it over. It was humming quietly with power, but seemed to be in standby mode. The iPad screen was on and displayed a homemade status panel. The current location box said “37,132.”

Turning to face him, I almost cringed. He looked terrible. I took a couple of steps closer to him and held out my hand for the bottle, which he handed over without argument. I took a small drink and held onto it. Maybe he’d let me keep it away from him.

“Then what’s wrong?” I asked. “Obviously something didn’t go as planned. You’re not exactly celebrating.”

“It’s infinity out there,” he said quietly, with a shake of his head.

“Yeah,” I said. “An infinity of parallel universes. Alternate dimensions each just a little bit different from the last.” At first, in the nearby dimensions, the differences might not even be noticeable, but the effect would get more pronounced the farther you went– a different president in the White House, a different outcome to World War II, or maybe Rome never fell or dinosaurs still existed. You might be rich or poor or famous or even dead. If the theory was correct, all possible universes existed.

“You don’t get it!” he grumbled. “But I didn’t get it either. Infinity means infinity. The universes aren’t just parallel, they’re adjacent. They’re sequential. You can’t get from point A to point C without going through point B. You can’t go from level one to level ten without crossing the intervening eight.”

“But what difference does it make? You predicted that, right? You said there is no quantum interval of time between the dimensions. What did you call them? The Branes? It takes literally no time to get from one to another. The only passage of time is what you spend in a particular world, and that can be a fraction of a second.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It would probably only take an hour or two for me to get home.”

“Home from where?”

Another bitter laugh. “Here.”

That’s when the first chill of real horror began to creep down my spine. “You mean…?” I fumbled for the right words, the politically correct phrasing for what I was trying to ask. “You mean you’re not ‘my’ Professor George.”

He looked me in the eye then and smiled for the first time– I think he meant it to be comforting. “No. No, I’m not. But it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

“It doesn’t matter at all,” he said.

“Where is he?”

“You saw the display,” the man on the couch responded. “He’s 37, 132 worlds away.”

A chill down my spine, an icy fist around my heart, flesh crawling, a wave of vertigo, a lump in my throat– you name the cliche, I had it. “Seriously, enough of this,” I said desperately. “Explain to me what’s going on. What’s happening? What did you see out there? Is my friend alive or dead?”

“Alive! Oh, he’s fine. If I’m okay, he’s okay. He might even come back. Not that it makes any difference.”

“Enough with the riddles! Please, explain!”

“All right,” he said. “Sorry. I’m drunk. I didn’t mean to be.” He sat up and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at me sadly. “Infinity means infinity. It really does. And the Branes, the dimensions, they’re adjacent, they fan out. You can’t cut in line. All possible universes exist. And even a fraction, the tiniest fraction, of infinity is still infinity. Do you understand yet? An infinity of all possible universes means an infinity of universes just like this one!”

[sarambcreates]

Through a Lens: Storyboarding and stylization

We had a workshop focused on figuring out the narrative and storyboarding the story, as well as finding the style of our animation. We were given a storyboard template and were tasked to make the story board, as well as a drawing of a frame or something connnected to our animation, then draw tjhe same thing but in a different style.

For the storyboard, since I do not know exactly how many noises will disturb her I made a vague outline of the possibility of a plotline. Doing this made me realise how many key frames can go by so easily, and considering how small this animation is (between 10 and 20 seconds) I ended up leaving a lot of frames empty since I think if i added more action it would definitely go over 20 seconds.

For the drawing I decided to make a frame that will be in the animation regardless the choices I will make of the story, which is of one of her trying to sleep. I chose the image below as reference for the drawings. I got the image from https://www.womansera.com/5-ways-in-which-pcod-can-be-treated-naturally/

I started out by redrwaing the reference but with very geometric shapes and a cartoony style, which is good for showing expressions in an exaggerated way. I traced it with pen which gave it a very drawn look, which could be effective when I make the animation digitally, as it will reflect a more organic arstyle and not so polished that can sometimes happen with digital art.

I then redrew the scene using tracing paper, and altered the scene to look more detailed and somewhat realistic looking. Her hair is splayed out like it would be when someone with long hair is sleeping, and there are creases on the pillow and duvet. While I liked the result the first variation felt a better option as it is more vague looking and will help appeal to the relatability of the animation, which is my main intention with it. The first option also makes for a cleaner style to animate with.

Since I had a style defined I decided to use this base and trace it with tracing paper to make another frame that I am sure to include in the animation. By having two key frames made by hand in the same format it gives me a good template for the style in order to keep it consistent throughout.

I could not exactly start the animation yet because I was not certain yet about how many action scenes there will be of the noise disrupting. I decided to make a new storyboard, this time more concrete in the sense I decided that there will be three main noises that will disrupt her: the snoring, the white noise, and then the birds to show her it is already morning and she has not managed to sleep yet. By limiting it to three I will have enough space to explore her reacting to them, as well as play with the volumes getting gradually louder and quieter. It also is a nice number of noises as it is enough of a quantity to make the audience feel frustrated, but also defines a clear start, middle and end.

To start the animation I decided to scan the frames I made by hand and bring them into Procreate so I could define which brush I will be using to make the lineart, as digitally things look different. I tried the caligraphy brush which would make it look very hand drawn and have considerable lineweight variation (bottom version) and a hard edge paint bursh which is solid and consistent throughout (top version). Putting them side by side I decided the best option was the caligraphy brush, as the variation in weight of the line makes it more interesting, and overall has a more handdrawn, organic look.

[hotchley]

🐨 Hello hello! It’s been a minute! I kinda forgot to send stuff. Let’s see, what’s going on….

In three months, I turn eighteen, and in five months (how is it only five months??) I graduate high school. That is insane and a little terrifying. Like, I’m ready to be done with high school, but at least I know high school, you know? College is an unknown variable and I don’t know what’ll happen. I’m optimistic about it, but it’s hard not to be dreading it a bit.

The poetry is going well! I had another poem accepted by a literary magazine, which I was super excited about. Speech is also going well. I’m giving a speech about heteronormativity, and it’s been really amazing to get to talk about something that I care about so much and have people listen. I’ve tried to explain to so many people so many times what heteronormativity is and why it drives me crazy, so it’s nice to feel like I’m actually doing something, even if it’s something small as a speech.

Oh! Guess what? I won my first ever speech tournament!! We were in another state and me and my roommates stayed up watching late night shows because I love those, and it turns out they do too! And the road trip was chaotic and amazing. Hearing my name called as first place and my teammates cheering and getting a standing ovation (that’s just speech etiquette, but still felt very cool!) was seriously amazing.

I’ve finished all my college applications, so now I just wait. I’ve heard back from a few…all positive so far, but there’s one with a 6% acceptance rate that’s my dream school but it’s insanely hard to get into. I’m thinking I’ll go into journalism. I love writing, and I want to do something that’ll help people/make a difference, so. It seems like a good option. But I have four years of college to figure that out, haha.

I’ve always wondered the difference between a barrister and a solicitor! In America, we have different types of lawyers like attorneys and prosecutors. It can get a bit confusing.

I get to go to a wedding in a few months! My karate senseis. We’ve known they’re getting married for awhile, but we got our official invitations at class last night, so that was cool. I’ve never been to a wedding before, except for one when I was 4 that I don’t really remember. Both the senseis are really awesome people, so I’m excited to get to go and celebrate them.

I was looking through your other blog again…I still adore your writing. Your poetry is so powerful. It definitely inspires me and my writing! And I’m still keeping a Happy Jar on my phone :)

Hi. Hi. Hi. Ummmmm... there is no reason for why I haven't answered asks apart from the simple: I haven't. I have no idea when you sent this but it was an embarrassing amount of time ago. I am hoping it hasn't been three months?

It's always terrifying! I felt the same way because I spent seven years at the school. I was genuinely terrified I wouldn't be able to handle being away from there because they have always kept me okay. But it's been several months since I left and I'm doing okay. Things settled. So be cautiously optimistic, and like I always tell kiddos, your education will always be waiting for you when you're ready. That's how it works. So there's never a rush.

Ah that's so good! I'm so glad you get to do it on something you like. And it's not just a speech. When I was in year eight, I did a speech workshop that was also a competition and I talked for a minute about the value of a human life. People cried. People three years later still remembered it. Our words, whether written or in passing, impact people. Something my friend said months ago that she's forgotten about has stuck with me. It'll be a good speech. It will have impact.

And congratulations on winning!! That's amazing and so cool and you really deserved it!

Journalism is so cool! I mean, you've tried to get in. Rejection is always hard, and if it happens, you need to let yourself feel sad and cry and whatever, but the knowledge that you didn't get in is infinitely better than the sadness of not even trying. I promise.

It's more that barristers go to court and solicitors usually don't. The main reason there hasn't been fusion is because of tradition and also the way people are paid is different- barristers are self-employed, solicitors usually aren't etc.

I LOVE WEDDINGS! I went to two last year, and I also went to the pre-wedding functions which was an experience. One was my cousin- her and her husband are the sweetest- and the other was my dad's friends daughter. That was during my A-Levels, which was chaos, but it was also my first English wedding so that was super cool! Weddings are fun for me because i love love and speeches and the dressing up and aah.

Awww. I think that's the nicest compliment I've ever been given about my writing! The Happy Jar has migrated to a notebook for 2023 and it's much, much easier now so the phone was the way to go!

[nocturnus33]

20 questions about bookbinding

0. What are you excited about binding right now?

I am making author's copies of Late Shift Palindrome; Big Name Death Eater and If the Sun Goes Black.

What is your latest binding?

My copy of the same fics. I'd always made mine first, because I make the mistakes there and then fix them for the authors.

2. What was your first binding?

My first binding was three pieces Bradel notebook.

3. What is your favourite binding so far?

I'm very proud of my copy of Grounds for divorce.

4. When did you get into bookbinding?

November 2021.

5. What is a binding by another binder you really love?

There are so many works I like, Heidi Kyle is a binder I admire.

6. What’s your favourite type of binding? (coptic, stab, fine, Bradel, etc.)

I like full binding.

7. What’s a binding type you’ve never done but that you’d love to try one day?

There is so much I don't know. I think I'll try criss-cross binding soon. I would love to try to work with leather some time.

8. How would you describe your binding style?

Amateur? My binding is still conservative. I'm still learning the basics, and as such, I need to learn the most traditional ways first.

9. What’s your favourite bookbinding tool?

I love my bone folder. I'm also very fond of a small wooden folder I made for my self last week.

10. Do you have a DIY press/what is your press like?

Hubby made me a wooden finishing press. I also have a traditional one that I love so much.

11. What is your workspace like?

Virginia Wolf once said every woman needs a room of her own. That's my workshop! It is much better than my bookbinding skills! It's a lovely space, my room, where I relax. There are several desks, two blackboards, and bookcases. It is decorated with wall decals with words associated with bookbinding, photos of my family and a nice poster of Ziggy Stardust. I have my books, fandom knick—knacks, and an old TV to watch tutorials. The perk of an empty nest is having lots of space!

12. Do you have a favourite cover material?

I use homemade book cloth out of 100% cotton.

13. Do you have a favourite paper for textblocks?

Sadly, in my country, there isn't that much on that line. Importing it is costly.

14. What are your feelings about headbands?

I like them and wish I would be better at doing them, BUT I think they aren't necessary.

15. What type of text do you usually bind?

Harry Potter fan fiction.

16. Do you match the aesthetic of the bind to the text?

Sometimes.

17. Have you ever done a rebind?

Yes, I rebind my mother's cookbook for my son.

18. Do you have other craft hobbies besides bookbinding?

This is the first time I persevere in a craft. I'd never been good at any of them, but this one hook me. I want to learn a little wood carving, as I enjoyed doing my wooden folder.

19. If you had to give past!you one advice about bookbinding, what would it be, and is it the same advice you give newbies

I would tell myself not to get so frustrated with mistakes, they are a normal part of the learning process. A second piece of advice would be not to spend much on supplies and tools at first. I certainly bought things I'd never used.

20 questions about bookbinding

What are you excited about binding right now?

What is your latest binding?

What was your first binding?

What is your favourite binding so far?

When did you get into bookbinding?

What is a binding by another binder you really love?

What’s your favourite type of binding? (coptic, stab, fine, Bradel, etc.)

What’s a binding type you’ve never done but that you’d love to try one day?

How would you describe your binding style?

What’s your favourite bookbinding tool?

Do you have a DIY press/what is your press like?

What is your workspace like?

Do you have a favourite cover material?

Do you have a favourite paper for textblocks?

What are your feelings about headbands?

What type of text do you usually bind?

Do you match the aesthetic of the bind to the text?

Have you ever done a rebind?

Do you have other craft hobbies besides bookbinding?

If you had to give past!you one advice about bookbinding what would it be, and is it the same advice you give newbies?

[arc-misadventures]

Convoluting Directions

Nora: Please!

Jaune: Come on, Nora!

Nora: Please!

Jaune: I’ve already told you three times!

Nora: Please!

Jaune: Haa… Fine!

Nora: Yay~!

Jaune: But, this time you’re writing down everything I tell you! Okay?!

Nora: Okay.

Jaune: Okay!?!

Nora: I’ve got a pen, and paper!

Jaune: Good, once more form the top, you ready?

Nora: Yes I am, Fearless Leader!

Jaune: Okay, first thing you do is go to one of the launch pad overlooking the Emerald forest, and take the launch pad furthest to the left.

Nora: ‘Furthest to the left.’

Jaune: After you land, you must follow the music of the song birds until you meet the Witch of the Green Woods. You need to pass through her garden so you must ask for permission first! But, be warned, there is a price to pay.

Nora: What’s the price?

Jaune: You must join the, Witch of the Green Woods for some afternoon tea, and cookies.

Nora: Tea, and cookies?

Jaune: Yes, tea, and cookies… And, knowing you, Nora ask for something sweet, and mind the Cinnamon cookies.

Nora: Why?

Jaune: They’re delicious that’s why. Okay, after you’ve had tea, you can go through her garden to the back gate. When in the garden you must remember these rules: Stay on the path at all times. Don’t step on her plants, especially the flowers. Don’t pick the flowers, and don’t smell the flowers, especially the red, and violet ones!

Nora: Why not.

Jaune: One, its rude to do that…

Nora: Fair.

Jaune: Two, unless you want to sneeze for the next ten to fifteen minutes you don’t want to smell the red, and violet flowers. Like snorting a pile of finely grounded pepper.

Nora: Noted… Then what?

Jaune: Go through the back gate, and lock it. After that follow the dirt path until it becomes a stone path. Follow the stone path until you reach the workshop of, Vidar the Nome.

Nora: A Nome?!

Jaune: Yes, nice fellow so long as you don’t touch his stuff. He, and his workers will be wary of you at first, just say hi for me, and he’ll treat you just fine. He’ll know you as a friend, and it will be alright. Now, ask him for a cast iron frying pan.

Nora: A frying pan?

Jaune: A cast iron frying pan. Write that down, its very important!

Nora: I’m writing it down, writing it down!

Jaune: Now, you’ll have to pay for it, he won’t accept your Lien, so just offer to help around the workshop. After you have help him for a while he will give you the cast iron frying pan. Thank him, and ask for directions for the, Waining Bridge.

Nora: Waining Bridge…

Jaune: Once you reach the bridge you will find, The Steve, the Ursa of the Bridge. Basically he’s your fairy tale bridge troll. Answer his riddle, and he’ll let you cross.

Nora: What is the answer to his riddle?

Jaune: No idea; he changes the riddle every time, and actually doesn’t know the answers to his riddles. And, if he does he’s lie if you got them right.

Nora: He’s cheating!

Jaune: Yeah, pretty much.

Nora: Then how do I get past him?!

Jaune: Hit him with the caste iron frying pan, and bolt past his unconscious body.

Nora: So that’s what the frying pan is for…

Jaune: Mostly… After you’ve run off the, Wailing Bridge, follow the path until you reach the cliff face, there you find the town of Hollowing Peak.

Nora: Does it howl because of the wind blowing through it?

Jaune: No, its because of all the Beowulfs that live there.

Nora: Oh…

Jaune: After you’ve reached the town of Hollowing Peak, you must search out the Beowulf name, Esmerelda.

Nora: How am I supposed to find one specific Beowulf among a pack of them?! They all look the same?!

Jaune: Don’t worry, Esmerelda is the one wearing the pink tutu.

Nora: Pft! A beowulf in a nice ink tutu…

Jaune: Don you dare make fun of, Esmerelda! If I hear you so much as snorted at her, I’ll break your spine! This is a threat, Nora, don’t make it a fact!

Nora: I-I-I got it! N-No laughing at the Beowulf in the pink tutu!

Jaune: Good… After you find, Esmerelda, ask her foe directions, and give her the caste iron frying pan as thanks. She will point to the Cliff of Despair. Climb the cliff face till you reach the top. There you will meet the Spaniard, a master fencer.

Nora: Do I have to face him in a duel to the death!

Jaune: No, just ask him which way is northwest, and be on your way. He’s waiting for someone else, and doesn’t have time for you.

Nora: Nahh… He sounds like fun…

Jaune: Oh he is delightful to be around! But, you must be quick! Time is of the essence! Follow his directions to the letter, and you will come across to a stone hallway, with stone walls. Their is a light at the end of the hallway, you must reach the end of that tunnel with all possible haste!

Nora: I-Is something going to chase behind me when I get there?!

Jaune: No, its just really creepy there, so you don’t want to hang around there.

Nora: Oh… Okay then…

Jaune: But, once you have entered the light, all you do is take a right, one straight down to the end of the block, and you will arrive at your destination…

Nora: Habinechy, and Findens Chocolate Emporium…

Jaune: Yes, the Chocolate Emporium… after you’ve secured the chocolate, go to the bullgead station, and take a flight back to, Beacon. You understand all of that?

Nora: I understand.

Jaune: Good. Now go! Go, and fly little one! Fly like lightning across the sly!

Nora: I will do so, Fearless Leader!

Jaune: But, remember Nora! Make sure to get the chocolate wafers with strawberry filling for, Pyrrha! Failure to do so, and we are all as good as dead… No go! Go!!!

Nora: I’m already Goooooooonnnne!!!

Jaune: Be swift my little, Lighting Bolt, or may the Gods have mercy on us all…

Ren: …?!

Ren: Jaune…?

Jaune: Yes, Ren?

Ren: Why does, Nora have to do all of… that…?

Jaune: Because its the fastest way to get there.

Ren: Jaune… it a ten minute bullhead ride, and like ten minutes of walking to get to the store. Why are you sending her on a week long quest…?

Jaune: Because its the fastest way to get there, and back. Don’t worry, Nora will be fine.

Ren: Jaune… you told her to into the Emerald Forest; the exact opposite of the way she needs to go?

Jaune: Yeah, so?

Ren: Haa… Jaune, buddy… I love you like the brother I never had…

Jaune: And, I you brother.

Ren: Thank you. But, this has to be the most asi ie, half baked, craziest idea you have ever…?!

(Slam!)

Nora: I’m back baby!

Ren: W-What?! How are you back already?! You’ve been gone for like a minute?!

Jaune: Excellent, Nora! Did you get the chocolate?

Nora: Yes I did! I even got you that Coffee Chocolate you like!

Ren: Wait, what?!

Jaune: Oohhh~!

Nora: Also, I’m sorry; Esmerelda is a wonderful lady! And, looks absolutely gorgeous in her tutu!

Jaune: Told you. Now, give the beast her chocolate so we may appease her.

Nora: On it! She’s still in the bathroom crying about how her favourite show got canceled right?

Jaune: Right.

Nora: Okay… Here goes n-nothing…

(Knock knock)

Nora: P-Pyrrha…? You still in there…?

Pyrrha:

What?!!!

Nora: I g-got that chocolate you like: The chocolate wafers with strawberry fillings…

Pyrrha: Ooh~! Really~?

Nora: Yeah! Here you go, Pyrrha!

Pyrrha: Oh, thank you, Nora. You’re the best!

Nora: Oh think nothing of it.

Pyrrha: Oh, hey guys, what’s up?

Jaune: Not much really? What about you, Ren?

Ren: …

Pyrrha: Ren, you okay?

Nora: You look a little pale.

Ren: I’m going to see the school nurse… I’ll see you all later…

Pyrrha: What was that all about…?

Jaune: No idea. Chocolate?

Pyrrha: Oh thank you!

Nora: Yes please!

[dari-ede]

In the Middle of the Night: Chapter 15

Chapter 15: "꿈처럼 뛰어들 때"

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30

MASTERLIST

Summary: As Bangtan prepares for a new chapter in their lives, they head to their private property in the forest for a songwriting workshop. As a songwriter and producer they have worked with for years, I’m asked to tag along. I was ready for the heavy workload and small amount of sleep during the workshop week. However, I wasn’t ready for the storm that came that changed my friendship with Namjoon forever.

Pairing: Idol!RM/Namjoon x OFC

Genre: Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut

Rating: M (sexual/adult themes, mention of sexual assault in other chapters)

Progress: COMPLETE

NOTE: Their first date. Sadly, no smut again. Damn Namjoon wouldn't let me. 😒 However, there's a nice amount of fluff.

Appearances: Jackson Wang

~~~~~~

-September-

“I am so sorry. I feel shitty doing this to you again,” Namjoon said on the other end of the phone. He had just told me date night had to be postponed again.

Namjoon and the rest of the guys had packed schedules. Not only were they preparing for their online concert, but there were numerous projects they were working on, such as the AMAs and Jingle Ball performances.

When Namjoon shared the Jingle Ball news, I had been thrilled for them. Their recognition and popularity in the US were expanding and they very much deserved it. However, there was one small drawback to this celebration: our date night kept getting postponed. Not to mention our usual hangouts were almost nonexistent.

However, it wasn’t only Namjoon’s busy schedule that kept pushing back our date. My schedule was also a contributing factor. Music had made its way back to me like it hadn’t in years. I couldn’t stop the tunes and harmonies and lyrics from forming in my head. Every day, I was creating music for hours on end. And nothing I was writing felt like I could give away. Every song was meant to be mine.

There were a couple of songs I had become so passionate about, I rented out a studio at HYBE to record them. I knew it wasn’t a good idea, seeing that there were spies everywhere in the building. The only time I used a studio at HYBE was when I was working on a company project. But my excitement for my new music made me dismiss my worries. It didn’t take too long for the staff to figure out I was in the studio for myself rather than another artist.

Word got to Sihyuk, who called my manager to ask if I was working on another album, who in turn called me with the same question. And because I never lied to Kyung when it came to my music, I admitted to the songs I was working on. This excited Kyung. He started spreading the word to music labels to find me a new home. He was certain he could get me the perfect contract. And for the first time in a long time, I felt the hunger and drive to make an album again.

My days were now full of phone calls from Kyung about who I could work with. And because of the large time difference between Korea and California, my nights consisted of being on the phone—not being able to visit Namjoon. Namjoon might have postponed our date twice, but I had postponed it three times.

If I was being completely honest, I didn’t care about missing out on the date. I was mostly saddened at not spending time with my best friend. We typically had lunch together a few times a week, but since our time back from the soop, we were lucky to eat together twice a week. Sure, we talked on the phone and messaged each other throughout the day, but it wasn’t the same.

His news of having to postpone the date was disappointing, but I didn’t want to make him feel more guilty than he already sounded. “It’s ok,” I tried to sound sincere. “What came up?”

“More filming of the new merch—some photoshoots as well. And then Sihyuk scheduled a personal meeting with me. But it has nothing to do with Bangtan. The meeting is about another artist,” he said. His voice turned serious.

This was concerning. Sihyuk knew Namjoon had his hands full with an endless number of Bangtan projects, why would he be adding to Namjoon’s plate? The only reason why Namjoon was ever involved with other artists in the company was for songwriting. “Namjoon, you don’t have enough time to write for another artist. You barely have time to eat.”

“It’s not for songwriting,” he assured.

“Then why does he want to meet with you?” I asked, confused.

“Sihyuk really wants to sign an artist to the company. And he thinks I can help persuade this person.” He was being very careful with his words, I could tell.

It sank in who he was referring to. Me. I immediately felt concerned. Was Sihyuk reaching out to Namjoon because he was a friend of mine, or had he learned Namjoon was something more? “Does he know about us?”

“No. And I don’t think he suspects anything. We’re friends, which is why he’s come to me. Hoseok said Sihyuk cornered him the other day too. Asked him about your new music.”

I let out a groan as I let my body fall onto the couch behind me. I was at home and Namjoon had caught me in the middle of working on another song.

After Sihyuk had reached out to Kyung, I started to avoid going to headquarters. I didn’t want to be cornered by him. However, it appeared he had decided to corner my friends.

“I wanted to give you a heads up and wanted to know from you what—if anything—is alright for me to share with him.” There was some hesitation in his voice, almost as if he was a little scared of asking the question.

I knew why he felt this way. The topic of me and my music had been a sensitive subject for the last couple of years. But that was when I wasn’t sure of my music, things were different now—more certain, even if it had only been a few weeks. “I’m ok with him knowing I’m working on a new album. No specific details, though. I’m talking to labels about possible contracts. Those two things are ok to say. I’d rather him talk to either Ky or myself, though. I don’t like that he’s bugging you guys.”

Sihyuk was a good guy. Sometimes, he stepped over the line when it came to business, but he did it with the best of intentions. He was seeking me out for multiple reasons: I was an international artist, I had a good image—for the most part—free of controversies, I had a good standing reputation with HYBE, I had a devoted fanbase, and most importantly, I had the talent to back up my success. I was going to have to face him sooner rather than later.

“Ok. If it wasn’t Sihyuk—if it was anyone else—I would have just dismissed him and not agreed to a meeting. But I think Sihyuk is genuine when he takes an interest in an artist’s music and career,” Namjoon said with confidence. “I think he came to Hobi and me with sincerity.”

I knew this. Sihyuk had made his mistakes in how he handled the guys when they were younger, but the dynamics and relationships had changed in the last few years. The energy of the company was overall a positive one. And if I was being completely honest, a part of me wanted to sign with HYBE—particularly with Big Hit because of Sihyuk. However, I knew that was wishful thinking. Business-wise, an American label made more sense for me to sign with.

“So, still no theme or muse for your music?” he asked, slightly changing the subject.

I was more than willing to change it. “No. I think I want to take each song at a time and try not to overthink it. Maybe that’s what was causing my writer’s block. Too much thinking. Not enough feeling.”

I could practically feel him smiling on the other side of the phone. “I told you it would come to you. There was just no way you were going to continue without making another album. You're too talented to go without making music.”

He was sweet, but the compliments still made me uneasy. I was trying my best to not let them affect me. Namjoon had been right that we both had problems we needed to individually work on. And I wanted to try my best. “Thank you,” I made myself say. But then my natural instincts came in and changed the topic, “So when are you free next for the date?”

He let out a groan. “Not until after the concert. I’m free for a few hours tomorrow before I meet up with some friends. It’s been weeks that we’ve been planning a guy’s night.”

I suddenly remembered something. “We can do it tomorrow before you go out.”

“You have your weekly call with your parents,” he said as if I had forgotten.

“It’s getting pushed back. They got back from Mexico earlier this week and are now in LA, so I’m calling them later. And I have nothing planned for the morning after, so I’ll be able to sleep in.”

“Yeah, but that would still only give us four hours,” he said. “The date takes at least half a day. Minimum.”

“What could you possibly have planned that would take that long?” I asked with skepticism.

He really didn’t want to tell me his plans, but he gave in a little. “Our first activity is done outside which will take a minimum of two hours. Then there’s the dinner, which is at least an hour. Then there’s doing another outside activity that will take another hour. And then there’s us finally spending the entire night together because one of us leaving immediately after sex would feel cheap.”

I knew he wanted to make our first date perfect, but we kept pushing it back so many times already. Our availability was only going to get worse. “Namjoon, perfection doesn’t exist. I just….” I usually held back voicing my emotions to my partner, a trait I learned from my parents. Or, at least, that’s what Dr. Rob analyzed. I needed to start being more honest, however uncomfortable it might make me feel. “I want to see you. I want to hang out, even if it’s for an hour. I really could give two shits if we have sex or not.” Through my voice, I hoped he could hear my longing—my craving to be close to him. Fuck, I missed him. And it wasn’t just sexual.

He was quiet for a moment. “Really? No need for sex?”

I rolled my eyes. Did he think I was some sex fiend or something? “No, I just want to be with you.” I could feel my palms feeling a little clammy at admitting this to him. I didn't want to sound desperate. Or pathetic.

His voice turned lighter. “Ok. Tomorrow it is then. Let’s meet here at HYBE. I won’t be here; I have a personal meeting that’s going to last most of the day. But I can meet you a little before 7. Bring a jacket just in case it gets chilly.”

My heart fluttered. My palms now sweating for a different reason. “Ok.”

“Alright. Well, I gotta go. The guys are waiting. I’ll message you once I’m outta here.”

“Have fun.”

“Bye.”

As soon as I hung up, my body automatically did a weird and exciting dance. Whatever. I was alone. I gave in to my dance.

“Shit, what am I going to wear?” The sudden question made me stop and think. And I ran to my closet to figure out my outfit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day when I arrived at HYBE, I knew I was very early. But I was too excited not to be.

I figured out my outfit quickly. I remembered Jimin telling me Namjoon liked me in purple or yellow; it was easier to narrow down the clothes with that information.

I went with my favorite jeans—the ones that tended to wrap hugged my curves just right—a simple top that showed the right amount of cleavage, a purple cardigan that made my warm pigment glow, and some booties that elongated my legs and height more. With Namjoon's height, I needed help.

Making my way through security, I took the elevator to the guys’ floor. I was certain Yoongi was in the building—he always was. I could use him as entertainment before my date with Namjoon officially started. Once outside Genius Lab, I knocked. I stared down at the carpet below me, a grumpy cat looked back at me while giving me a middle finger. He'd had this thing for years, he needed a new one. After a few seconds, I knocked again. Still no response. Odd. Had he gone to the restroom?

I got my phone out and called him.

He picked up after a few rings. “Hello.”

“Where are you?”

“Huh? Why?” He sounded guarded.

“I’m outside your studio.”

“Why?” I heard a crash in the background. Yoongi let out a heavy sigh.

What was up with him? “I’m bored and need something to do for the next hour. And I’m not sure if any of the other guys are here.”

“Taehyungi should be there. And Jungkook. Go bug them.”

I made a mental note to give him a peck on the cheek the next time I saw him. “Fine. But, seriously, where are you?”

“Ahhh. Why are you so nosy?” I heard a low voice in the background, but I couldn’t work out what was said.

“Tell me or I’ll kiss you next time I see you,” I warned.

He let out another sigh. “I’ll tell you later.” Click.

I stared down at my phone and contemplated calling him back. However, I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere. I decided to dial Taehyung’s number.

He answered within three things. “Hi, noona.”

“Hey, cutie. Are you at HYBE?”

“Yes, I’m in one of the working studios. Are you here?”

I started walking toward his location; he tended to use the same room whenever he worked. “Yes. Are you busy?”

“Yes, but I can use a small break. Want to get a snack?”

“No, I don’t want to ruin my dinner. But you can get a snack while I get coffee,” I suggested, getting closer to his room.

“Ok. Are you close?”

“I’m a few doors down.” I could see the door from where I was.

“I’ll be right out.”

He opened the door just as I was about to knock on it. He did a once over on me, a wide smile appearing. “Very nice,” he said in English. “Sexy.”

I did a small twirl. “Thank you.”

The two producers in the room tried to get a peek at who Taehyung was speaking with. I didn’t want to be rude, so I stepped forward and we exchanged quick pleasantries with Tae’s team before Tae and I headed to the café.

It didn’t take longer than a few minutes before we were sitting in a private corner of the café with my coffee and Tae’s sandwich.

“Are you nervous about tonight?” he asked in a low voice, looking around to make sure no one was within earshot.

Due to COVID, the number of employees in the building was still limited. And the few people present kept a great amount of distance from one another. “A little,” I admitted to him.

He gave me a small smile. “You’re going to have fun. He really thought it all the way through,” he assured me. I noticed he was omitting Namjoon’s name entirely, taking extra precautions.

“He told you his plans?” I asked curiously.

“Yes, but don’t ask me what they are because I won’t tell.” He looked like he meant it.

“Can you at least tell me if I’m dressed ok for it?” I sat all the way back in my chair to give him a look at my outfit just in case he had forgotten.

Of course, I didn’t have to. Taehyung had an eye for fashion and remembered what I was wearing. “You look good. But…” He gave me a slight look of uncertainty when he looked down at my shoes. “Did you bring something else, just in case?”

“Oh, I have a skirt and heels in my bag,” I assured him. I had backup items in my big purse just in case.

"Let me see," he requested, bending towards the purse.

"I actually took a picture of it. If I take it out, it'll look suspicious," I said as I looked through my phone and searched for the photo I had taken earlier.

Once I found it, I showed it to him. Tae leaned in, took the phone from me, and looked pleased. "Perfect. Put this on right before dinner. This skirt and heels will show off your legs to him. We caught him plenty of times staring at them," he said, giving me back my phone.

What guy wasn’t into legs? I had caught him openly gawking at them several times. And if I was being completely honest, it felt good to know he had a physical attraction toward me.

“You know, if he didn’t have something else to do tonight, I would have canceled my weekly call with my parents and just stayed over his house all night. Or have him over.”

Taehyung shook his head. “He’s canceled so many times with his friends. I think Jackson was slightly serious when he said if he didn’t make it for this hangout, he was considering breaking up the friendship.”

It was funny because I knew Jackson didn’t mean it.

For a moment it was quiet. I took another sip of my coffee, trying to cool down my nerves. My eyes turned towards Tae and found him looking at me with an adoring smile. “What?”

“I like that you guys are together,” he said sweetly.

I really didn’t know how to respond to that. I just smiled, gave a short nod, and took another drink of my coffee.

“After so many years, it’s good to see that it has finally happened,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Seven is a lucky number.”

I was a little thrown back. “I haven’t liked him for that long.”

“No, I meant the friendship,” Taehyung clarified. “But you have liked him for a while.”

I shook my head, still shocked how I had gone so long without realizing my feelings for Namjoon had developed deeper without me realizing it. “I don’t know why it took so long to figure out I liked him this way. I mean, I’ve had a small crush on him every now and then but it would always be brief. It always went away when he was in a relationship or if I was.”

He nodded. “You both are very loyal, so allowing yourselves to like one another when in another relationship was never going to happen. Plus, you hadn’t gotten to know each other the way you do now. It’s very…difficult to tear down his walls.” He began to lower his voice. “Living with him for as long as we have, it was even hard for some of us. I don’t think he does it on purpose, it’s just his personality. He's very reserved, takes on many responsibilities, and feels like he has to take on a lot of burdens himself.” His eyes looked a little sad as he said this.

I understood the sadness personally. It had taken me years to finally be let into his world. While we had been "friends" for seven years, it wasn't until the last two that I felt we truly were. There didn't seem to be many walls between us.

Right then, my phone went off. I looked down to see Namjoon calling.

Taehyung frowned as he looked at the caller ID. “You still have him under ‘Moni’?”

I picked up the phone and answered, ignoring Tae’s question.

“How romantic,” he muttered sarcastically.

“Who’s romantic?” Namjoon asked on the other end of the line.

“Ignore Tae,” I said simply as I stuck out my tongue at the young man across the table from me. “Are you here?” I asked, feeling hopeful.

“Yeah. I’m in the parking lot. Are you ready?” His voice sounded upbeat.

“Yups. I’ll meet you there.” I hung up and gathered my things, Taehyung doing the same.

“You know that he’s starting to put that word into his vocabulary?” Tae asked as he got up from his chair.

I got up with him, pushing in my chair. “What word?”

“Yups. It’s your word and now he says it,” he explained as he waited for me.

“Well, I’ve picked up a few of his own habits,” I countered. “I cycle now.”

“Can you at least change the name to ‘Babe’ or ‘BF’. Why keep him as ‘Moni’?” Tae changed the subject as we walked together towards the elevator. “I haven’t heard you call him that in years.”

“Well, I can’t exactly save him under his real name or other nicknames,” I explained as we waited for the elevator to open. “If the wrong person were to look over my shoulder at the wrong time, they would be able to decipher who he is.”

“What do you have me under?” he asked curiously. The doors opened and we both went in, hitting the buttons for our destinations.

“Weirdo,” I answer lovingly, giving him a smile.

He didn’t look like he believed me. “Really?”

I nodded. I got my phone out, opened Contacts, and showed him.

“You’re so mean,” he said with a smile. “What about Jimin?”

“Lovely,” I responded.

Tae gave me an incredulous look. “And I get ‘weirdo’?”

“Well, that was more his own doing. I originally had him under ‘dummy’ but he found out and managed to get ahold of my phone to change it,” I explained.

He extended his hand. “Give.”

The elevator dinged and doors opened. We had arrived at Tae’s floor. I swatted his hand away. “Next time. Out.”

He leaned over to give me a hug. “Have fun. And remember to switch your outfit.”

“I will,” I said as he stepped out.

We waved goodbye as the doors closed.

A few moments later, I arrived at the parking lot several floors down. I made my way towards where the company cars usually were. Due to his height, I found Namjoon quickly.

As I made my way to him, I allowed myself to savor how good he looked. He was sporting nice, light blue jeans, a black shirt, and a brown jacket. He had on a pair of timberlands and a dark blue baseball cap. I could eat him up, he looked so good. The only thing I disliked about his outfit was his sunglasses and that was only because they were hiding his gorgeous browns.

He gave me a small but deep dimple smile. “Hey,” he said in his low, timbre voice.

“Hey, handsome,” I greeted as I openly let my eyes rake over him.

An embarrassed chuckle came out of him as he turned and gestured towards the open door of the vehicle. The driver was right next to the door, bowing.

I bowed back and entered the vehicle. If the driver wasn’t present, I would have jumped on Namjoon and planted one on him, but I made sure to keep my distance.

We spoke a bit in the car as we drove off, keeping things light.

The car came to a stop about twenty minutes later. I looked around and didn’t recognize where we were at first. I was sure we were in Dongdaemun but wasn’t sure of the exact location. In the two years I had been living here, it was an area I was unfamiliar with.

We were parked in an off alley away from most of the public. Very few people were around, so I wasn’t too worried about being recognized when I stepped out of the car. Namjoon was right behind me with big, empty bags in his hands. We were both sporting masks and thanks to our very casual wear, we easily blended in.

Namjoon turned to the driver and they communicated about where we would meet next. The driver nodded and got back into his car. Namjoon led the way into the streets.

“What’s with the bags?” I asked curiously as I eyed them.

“You’ll see. Come on, we don’t have much time. I promise next time we’ll come earlier,” he said in a low voice so only I could hear.

I knew he was doing this due to people easily recognizing him off his voice. He already stood out due to his height, if he were to speak, he would be at the center of attention.

I followed him closely but kept at a decent distance.

He looked down at me and gave me one of his eye smiles. “You look great, by the way.”

I wanted nothing more than to lean into him, but I restrained myself. “Back at ya. You know, my favorite look on you is anything in a hat—preferably a baseball cap.”

“Well, it’s going to be easy to please you. I’m not even gonna have to try,” he joked.

I sent him a flirtatious smile. He couldn’t see it because of the mask, but I was sure he could sense it. “You really don’t have to try. You exude self-confidence and I don’t think there’s a thing in the world sexier than that.”

I could see his cheeks glowing red, but he didn’t say anything.

We turned a couple of more streets until I finally saw it. Right in front of me was one of the most beautiful sceneries imaginable. It felt as if I had walked into a fantasy—a location I could only dream of.

My feet stopped walking so I could fully capture the sight. I knew where we were. A place I had been wanting to visit for a long time but just never got around to.

Next to me, Namjoon let out a small laugh. “Incredible, isn’t it? I remember being taken aback the first time I came here.”

In front of us was an endless view of street vendors and small shops with a plethora of books. The stacks of texts were so high and many that it almost felt like the scene from Aladdin in the Cave of Wonders. Except for the abundance of jewels and gold that Aladdin was presented with, I was staring into an abundance of hardcovers and paperbacks. We were in Cheonggyecheon Second Hand Book Street. A place where a plethora of books (used and new) from all over the world were sold at decent prices. Namjoon had spoken a few times about coming to this place, but we had always put it off.

“I could stay here for days,” I said breathlessly.

“Unfortunately, we have thirty minutes,” Namjoon said regrettably.

“Let's hurry,” I said as I rushed over to the first shop closest to me.

The next thirty minutes flew by quickly but were so incredibly satisfying. My eyes and brain could not keep up with all the different treasures surrounding me. I focused mostly on the books that looked the rarest and most interesting. I selected a few that were at least 100 years old and a few that were leather bound and in languages I was not familiar with. My hands carried a heavy bag in each. If I hadn’t been as excited as I was, I would have fought Namjoon harder when he paid for all the books. I was far too happy to try and argue.

He bought a couple books for himself, but mostly assisted me in picking for my selection.

Thankfully, we didn’t have to travel far to reach the driver. Namjoon had him park fairly close. We dropped off the bags at the vehicle, freeing our backs and arms of the heavy burden. After leaving the books, Namjoon informed me we weren’t set to leave yet. We were going to be taking a small stroll before leaving for our next destination. He communicated to the driver the next location to meet us in and the two of us headed over to walk along the Cheonggyecheaon stream.

We walked side by side, but still with distance between us. “Thank you,” I said enthusiastically. “I could have looked through those books for hours.”

He looked absolutely delighted. “I knew you would like it. Which are you most excited about?”

I thought for a moment. “That very old, rustic hardback about Greek mythology. The small, brown one. It’s so old and smells a little funky. That’ll be interesting to read through.”

“Lucky it was in English,” he said.

We walked along the stream, passed the market, and did a little bit of window shopping. It was our first date, but there wasn't too much awkwardness. Tonight didn’t feel any different than when we would hang out as friends. Was that a good thing or a bad thing, I wondered? I tried to push the thought away as I noticed we were getting close to our vehicle. It was a good thing it was the middle of a workweek and evening. Not many people were out and about, allowing us to have a pleasant time without disturbance.

We got into the vehicle and started our drive. For the next thirty minutes, we mostly talked about the books we had bought and looked through them. Namjoon had bought another art book that caused him to go into a song he was working on. The conversation then turned to their next album and the songs I was helping them write.

We made a turn on Namjoon’s complex. After passing the first set of security, we got out of the vehicle. We each took two book bags.

Namjoon gave a quick thanks to the driver and began to lead the way.

I gave the driver my thanks as well while I noticed Namjoon getting on his phone. It appeared he was sending a text to someone.

“Who are you messaging?” I asked, trying to get a peek at his phone. It was all for fun, though. He was way too damn tall for me to see anything. Even with the booties.

He knew I was teasing but still dodged me. “Stop being nosy,” he said with a smile.

As we went through another round of security, we made small talk. I wasn’t too worried about the guards noticing us together. I had come here enough to meet Namjoon for our biweekly bike rides or hikes that the security recognized me immediately.

A few minutes later, I was proven right as we arrived at the front of his door.

I let out a dramatic gasp. “What are your neighbors going to think about me coming over?” I asked in a dramatic whisper. There was no one around us.

He let out a smile as he unlocked the door and held it open for me. “We have four bags full of books and we’re wearing casual clothing. I doubt they’ll think too much into it.”

I walked inside. “And here I thought these books were to please me, but in reality, you’re just using them as a cover up.”

The door closed softly behind him. “It’s multi-purpose: I get to spend time with two of my favorite things: books and you. It throws the scent off of us—they’ll think we’re just working.” He set our bags down and took off his shoes, not bothering to set them to the side.

He had said it so casually and swiftly that I wondered if he had realized what he said. But I had caught it: two of my favorite things: books and you. The confession made my heart rate speed up and I could feel a smile forming that I couldn’t control.

I placed my shoes neatly next to the door as I tried to control my heart rate. I moved his as well, not wanting any accidents.

When I turned towards him, he had his attention on me, a smile lingering on his face. “What?” I asked, taken aback by the look on his face.

He took a few steps towards me, closing the gap between us.

I felt his hands come to my waist and pull me close. The scent of his smoky leather fragrance filled my senses. He smelled so good, I wanted to bury my nose in him. I looked up at the gorgeous man in front of me.

He leaned down, pressing his lips lightly against mine.

We hadn’t seen each other in a couple days, but my lips felt as if it had been an eternity. It felt like I was taking a much-needed breath.

He pulled away slightly, smiling down at me. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the parking lot,” he said in a husky voice.

I clung to his forearms, wanting him to bring his lips to me again. “Why didn’t you?”

“I’m an idiot,” he mumbled and leaned down again, giving me what I wanted.

I opened my mouth to deepen the kiss, but suddenly a loud and odd sound went off.

We pulled away from each other and looked around, wondering where such noise had come from. The noise was heard again. And at the same time, I felt my stomach move. The sound was coming from something closer than I thought: my stomach.

“You’re starving,” Namjoon said, his eyes set on my stomach. “Sorry.” And then he began to move. “Give me five to ten minutes,” he said hurriedly as he fled into the kitchen.

I suppressed a laugh as I walked into the clean and pristine household. Namjoon wasn’t incredibly messy, but he wasn’t neat either. I could tell he had gotten help to make the house look as spotless as it did now.

As I made my way down the hall, I noticed the dining room had been set up nicely. The last time I had been here, the table had been stacked with books and notes. He usually used it as a working desk. Now, the table looked like I had walked into a restaurant.

I smiled and made my way to the table, admiring the work and thought that was put into the design. The plates selected were gorgeous and assembled nicely across from one another. The glass candles were simple yet elegant. The yellow flower petals placed throughout the table added a romantic touch. And the small and short flower arrangement which contained a couple of sunflowers was incredibly sweet.

It looked as if this was a real restaurant, where a fancy dinner was about to be served.

At the thought of this, I remembered I was dressed too casual. Grabbing my bag, I headed to the restroom. “I’m going to use the restroom,” I announced.

“Ok,” Namjoon called back to me.

It didn’t take long to change. I debated for a while if I wanted to put on my heels or leave them off since we were indoors. But I remembered Taehyung’s words about Namjoon loving my legs and opted to put them on. Thankfully, I had cleaned them recently and hadn’t worn them since.

After doing a touch-up on my makeup and hair, I made my way to the dining room. Waiting there were two wine glasses and a bottle of Merlot.

I was about to walk over to it when a crashing noise came from the kitchen, followed by a grunt. Acting instinctively, I hurried over. “Is everything ok?”

“Yes,” Namjoon assured me just as I stepped inside the kitchen. His back was towards me and was crouching over a couple of plates. The source of the noise was immediately discovered: several utensils were scattered throughout the counter. Namjoon was mumbling something to himself.

Immediately, a whiff of pork and parmesan filled the room. “That smells good.”

Namjoon’s head snapped toward me. “Why are you in here? Wait at the table.”

I didn’t listen and took a few steps closer. “What do you expect me to do when I hear a crashing noise?”

“Ignore it. I’m constantly dropping things, so it should be of no surprise,” he mumbled as he went back to what he had been working on.

My curiosity kept bringing me closer.

He caught me. “Hey!” He tried to block me from looking.

I ducked and peeked under his arm, noticing what he was working on. It was spaghetti with what looked to be bacon. However, I had a pretty good nose, so I knew the bacon was actually guanciale. It was carbonara—one of my favorite foods! But it didn’t look professionally made.

“Did you cook this yourself?” I asked in astonishment.

He let out a sigh and moved aside, allowing me to get a full view. “Yeah. I made it right before getting to you. And I was just reheating it in the pan. I was putting in some cheese to add a finishing touch. How does it look?” he asked timidly.

I looked down at the pasta dish. The sauce was a bit curdled, meaning he had cooked the sauce with too high a heat. The bacon also looked a little too dark than it should have been, but it couldn’t have looked more perfect. I turned to him excitedly, “It looks really good!”

His face turned lighter at my reaction and he let out a sigh. “Really?”

I looked back down at the plates and stared at them for a good moment. Namjoon was immensely talented in many areas, but it was no secret that things that tended to be simple for the average person—such as cooking and driving—were a struggle for him. For years, he had tried his hand in the kitchen, only to flop most of the time. So, seeing that he had tried his hand at making something himself for our first date made my heart squeeze.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was low and gentle as his eyes roamed over my face.

I didn’t understand his concern. “What do you mean?” I asked, turning to him.

He frowned but there was a small smile on his face. “You look—” he stopped himself as if finally realizing something.

“I look like what?” I asked, taken aback. Had he finally noticed I was in a skirt and heels? I looked down at myself, just checking to see if there was something I was missing. Did he not approve of shoes in the house? “Should I take off my shoes?”

“Whoa,” he said suddenly as he looked down. He took a step back, getting a better view of me. His eyes were so wide and his mouth was hanging open that it was easy to tell he very much approved of the look. A feeling of satisfaction overwhelmed me, but that didn’t stop a blush from creeping its way through my cheeks.

“You look h—great.” His eyes roamed around my legs.

I could only handle being ogled by him for so long. I gave him a slight shove on the shoulder, snapping him out of it. “Come on, I’m starving.” I made a grab for both dishes.

He immediately reacted. “No, let me.”

“You cooked, it’s the least I can do,” I insisted.

He shook his head as he took the dishes from me. “I have all this planned. Go.”

I pouted a little but followed instructions. He got ahead of me the closer I got to the table, however. He put down the plates so he could pull out a chair for me, which I appreciated.

After pouring each of us some wine, Namjoon made his way to his chair. He smiled sweetly and gestured to the dish. “You want me to try it first to see if it’s poisonous?”

I rolled my eyes. I picked up my fork and went for it. I wasn’t worried at all. Due to the way I grew up, I wasn’t a picky eater. While I may have been raised well off, my parents ensured we weren't picky eaters. Only on very seldom occasions did we have fancy meals. I always ate whatever was presented to me and never complained about it. I doubted there was anything Namjoon could make that would make it inedible for me.

Making sure I made full eye contact with Namjoon, I placed the first bite into my mouth and chewed. His face looked a little scared for me. The first thing I tasted was the saltiness of the pasta. It wasn’t intolerable, but just a bit too much for my taste. The guanciale tasted a little charred—it had slightly burned. And the sauce felt a little off—pretty sure it was because the egg had curdled. The dish was decent, though. I would even say, near tasty.

I gave him a nod and went for seconds. “It’s good.”

His eyes popped a little in surprise. “Are you serious?”

I nodded and motioned for him to taste his creation.

He picked up his fork and did so. He made a funny face immediately. “That’s salty.”

I chuckled and nodded. “Just a bit. But it’s still good.”

Namjoon didn’t look convinced. He reached for his wine and took a sip. His face looked a little more pleased. “The wine downs it pretty good. Try it.”

I did and had to admit he was right. “It makes the dish extra tasty.”

“It’s a fine bottle, it’ll make even the worst dish seem edible,” he said, bashing himself.

He was doing it a little too much for my liking. “Stop,” I said, going in for my third bite. I didn’t like him putting himself down too much, even if he was only joking. “So, how was your day?”

He took another sip of wine and let out a sigh. “Alright, I guess.”

We weren’t around anyone else, so I was able to fully focus on his face. His eyes looked a little heavy and his shoulders were sagging slightly. “Tough day?” I asked, feeling concerned.

“Not really. Just long.” He scratched his head and leaned back in his chair, trying to relax. “I was with my financial adviser for most of the day. Dealing with my company shares.”

“Did you decide how much you’re going to sell?” I asked, remembering he had mentioned this before. He wanted to invest in art so as to open his own exhibit sometime in the near future.

He nodded and went on to explain how much he sold. It was a good amount.

“It should be enough to get you a nice quantity of art pieces,” I said enthusiastically.

He gave a small smile, but he seemed to be holding it back.

I had a good guess as to why. “Is it stressing you because it’s a lot of money?” Namjoon was very conservative with his spending and savings. This had been a big step for him.

“A little,” he admitted. “I don’t regret it, but I can’t help but worry.”

“It’s for a great reason, though. Your own collection! How exciting!” I was very pumped for him. “Can you just imagine it—opening up the doors to a display of your own collection?”

A genuine smile came across his face. He was happy again. And then he made a comment that he was going to have to be careful with the rest of his shares, feeling a bit concerned if he sold too many too fast.

I had the instinct of asking him how much his shares were but I didn’t want to pry.

It was one of the few topics I never talked to Namjoon about: finances. While we knew much about each other, one of the things that were still a mystery to me was his true net worth and the amount of money he had in the bank. And it was the same about me to him. I never told him in full detail my worth. In fact, I had never told any of my former boyfriends about my money. It was something I never felt comfortable sharing.

For a moment, I wondered if this would become an issue in the future for us. But that was for another time. We hadn’t even been together a month. We were supposed to be taking things slow.

“How’s the recording coming along?” he asked, reading my mind and changing the topic.

I was grateful. “My vocals are shot. I was trying to hit this one note and I couldn’t. It was embarrassing. I’m going to have to go back to vocal lessons,” I said, taking a sip of my wine.

“You mean with a vocal coach?” he asked, taking a bite from his food. He made another face after eating it. He must have forgotten he was eating his own food. It was cute.

I laughed at his expressions. “I scheduled a few sessions with my vocal coach. It’s going to suck having to do them virtually, but,” I shrugged my shoulders in defeat, “What are you going to do?”

We went on to talk about the latest updates I had received from my family. He then told me of his own family and how they were going to be joining him for the concert in the States. Apparently, some of the guys were going to be taking their families so they could have a vacation with them in the States. After two years, they wanted to take advantage of the opportunity.

I managed to finish my carbonara and wine without realizing it. We continued into the night talking and laughing as Namjoon explained the other projects the group was involved in. We finally had the time to share full stories with one another since we hadn’t been able to.

He was telling me how one of his favorite shirts had gotten a stain on it due to one of Jimin’s pranks gone wrong when his house phone went off. Very few people had his house number and even less called it rather than his cellphone. Whenever the house phone went off at the guys’ dorms, it was usually the front desk or security.

Namjoon checked his watch and then his phone. “Shit.” He hurried over to the phone and took his cell phone out. “I bet it’s Jackson. He called my phone several times, but I have it on silent.” He answered the landline.

I could hear the loud male voice on the other end. Namjoon had been right. It was Jackson.

“I’ll be right down. Give me 15.” He hung up the phone and turned to me, a disappointed look on his face.

I got up and started gathering the dishes. “Well, at least we got a few hours.”

Namjoon hurried over to take whatever I hadn’t been able to grab.

Together, we walked over to the kitchen and placed the dishes in the dishwasher. Once they were put away, Namjoon turned to me and pulled me close. “I’m sorry this date wasn’t longer.”

I smiled up at him. “Are you kidding? It was the best. You hit all the right spots. You bought me books, we took a nice walk—”

“A very short walk. I wanted to go on a nice bike ride with you,” he said with a slight pout.

“We can save that for another date. Bike riding is more of a morning date anyways. I like rides while the sun is coming up. We can do that on a Sunday. Very few people would be out, and we would both have it off,” I suggested.

He placed his large palm around my neck as his thumb rested on my cheek. “You always have solutions for everything, don’t you?”

I linked my hands around his large back. “I really enjoyed today. It was perfect.”

He leaned down and took my lips into his. For the umpteenth time tonight, I turned to liquid. I wanted nothing more than to continue staying here with him, but a stupid voice that came in form of a Hong Kong male reminded me that Namjoon had friends who were waiting for him.

I forced myself to pull away. “Ok, go. Before Jackson storms into this house.”

“Just one more minute,” he said, pulling my face to his.

I gave in for a few seconds, giving in to bliss for at least a few seconds. However, just as the kiss began to get a little more heated, the house phone began to ring again.

Namjoon let out a groan but pulled back. “I’ll call you a cab,” he said as we headed to the front door. He took out his phone and began to make a call, not bothering to answer the house call.

I took off my heels and put on my booties. I didn’t want Jackson to catch me in heels. Unlike everyone else we had encountered, Jackson would read into every single detail and figure out what Namjoon and I were really up to.

Once I had my shoes on, I took my personal bag and one of the book bags. “Is it fine if I leave the rest here? They’re far too heavy,” I said as I stared at the other two bags on the floor.

Namjoon nodded. “Sure. Are you free for lunch tomorrow? I can bring one to you.”

I nodded, already feeling excited for tomorrow.

He pushed open the door and allowed me to go first. We made our way down the hall and through security before reaching our very needy friend.

Jackson looked slightly irritated. “Finally,” he huffed. But then he eyed me up and down, a suspicious look in his eye.

I put up my defenses. “What?”

“What were you two doing? It’s late.” Jackson's eyes went to Namjoon next.

“Work,” I said in a tone that let him know I thought it was a dumb question. I turned to Namjoon. “Be sure he pees regularly; otherwise, he’s gonna have another accident,” I sent Jackson a teasing look.

Jackson turned a little flustered. “For the last time, I didn’t pee on myself. Jinyoung spilled something on my pa—”

I loved getting him worked up, which was why I brought up a recent incident that involved a drunken him with wet pants and everyone accusing him of wetting himself. I cut him off. “Jinyoung doesn’t back up your lame-ass story. No one believes it, sweetie.”

Jackson was about to further defend himself, but Namjoon patted his friend on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go. We’re already late.” He was holding back his laughter.

“Remember to take sips of water in between drinks,” I called out as I left.

“I didn’t pee on myself!” Jackson called out, but then he noticed he had said that a little too loud. Some of the staff were now looking at him.

Namjoon began to laugh.

I waved at them, Jackson narrowing his eyes at me in a comical way. I made my way to the entrance door of the building. As I was about to walk out, I turned one last time.

Jackson was looking down at his phone as he ranted about something and Namjoon locked eyes with me from across the building. He showed me his deep dimples and gave me a small wave.

I made sure Jackson wasn’t looking before I sent him a wink. There were still plenty of people around us. I didn’t want to raise suspicion.

He responded with a sweet wink back as I walked out.

--------------------------

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30

MASTERLIST

[musette22]

Local museum volunteer Chris explaining all the items and history facts to teacher Sebastian and his 20 kids on a school trip or to single dad Sebastian and his twins (one who is really into it and ask a lot of "but why?" And the other one who just sticks his fingers up his nose and yawns lmao)

Okay so I was just on a walk and I started thinking about this ask again (I am so so so sorry for how long it took me to reply to this, I suck wow) because I couldn’t get that new pic of Seb looking like a literal DILF out of my head, but I couldn’t remember the specifics so what came out is slightly different from what you suggested but not much – hope you still like it (I personally screamed into my fist multiples times while thinking about this – I’m furious at how cute this little scenario is, thank you so so much for this!)

Disclaimer: I literally wrote this just now so it’s unbeta’d and probably riddled with nonsense, but I hope you guys like nonetheless!  <3

*********************

“Hi, guys! Welcome to the Concord Museum. My name is Chris and I’ll be your guide this afternoon.”

Chris eyes the little family – a father and two young kids – standing in front of him in the entrance hall of the bite-sized museum, then makes a show of looking around the otherwise empty hall. “Seems like it’s a quiet one today, so you’ll have me all to yourself!”

The father smiles, his sparkling, blue-grey eyes crinkling in the corners in a way that Chris shouldn’t be thinking of as ‘adorable’, but does nonetheless.

“Fantastic,” the man says warmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Chris. This is Margot,” – he gestures to the girl of about eight standing next to him – “and this little guy here is David,” he adds, lightly bouncing the three or four-year-old, curly haired boy on his hip. David gives Chris a wide eyed look before promptly burying his face in his father’s neck. “He’s a little shy,” the dad says fondly.

“That’s fine,” Chris tells them. With a smile, he ducks his head to try and catch David’s eye. “You’re not the only one, kiddo. I’m a little shy myself sometimes, you know.”  

“I’m not shy,” Margot pipes up.

“No,” her dad agrees with a chuckle, “you certainly are not.”

Chris turns his eyes back to their father’s face. “And your name..?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man says, “I’m Sebastian.” He holds out his hand for Chris to shake, warm and dry with long, elegant fingers that fit nicely against Chris’s own, studier ones.

Sebastian, Chris thinks. Perfect name for a perfect guy. The term ‘DILF’ flashes unbidden through Chris’s mind – wildly inappropriate, given the circumstances, but oh so accurate. Sebastian has a sweet, charming smile, incredible bone structure, and dark, wavy hair, swept up in a quiff-like style that manages to make him look both sophisticated and a little boyish at the same time. There’s a hint of grey at his temples as well as in his beard that has Chris placing him at maybe two or three years older than himself.

“New York?” Chris guesses, as he reluctantly lets go of Sebastian’s hand.

“That’s right,” Sebastian nods. “Well, formerly, anyway. We just moved to the area, actually.”

“Oh, really? What brought you all the way out here?”

Sebastian runs a hand through his hair; a nervous habit, perhaps. “Oh, um. My ex-wife got a job in Boston last year, and I didn’t want to be too far from her and the kids, so I decided to follow suit. Only moved down here last month. This is my first full weekend with these guys at my new place, so I thought I’d take them out to do something cultural, learn a little about the local history, y’know?”

“Well, we’ve got plenty of that here,” Chris assures him. “In fact,” he adds sheepishly, “that’s kinda all we've got.”

Sebastian laughs, causing Chris’s brain to glitch, which is probably why the next thing that comes out of his mouth is – “Divorce, huh? I’m sorry, that must’ve been tough.”

When Sebastian doesn’t answer straight away, Chris wants to kick himself for running his big, stupid mouth. As usual. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes hastily. “That’s none of my business. Just tryin’ to make small talk, but I always seem to forget I’m really bad at that. Just forget I said anything.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Sebastian assures him, flashing Chris a quick smile. “Thank you. These things are never easy, but it’s better this way, you know?”

“They’re not fighting or anything,” Margot chimes in again, from a few feet below. “Mommy and daddy only got divorced because mommy’s a girl and daddy likes boys better than girls. Right, daddy?"

Well. Chris tries not to be too obvious about glancing at Sebastian’s face to see his reaction to that bombshell his daughter just dropped, but he’s not sure how well he manages.

Sebastian closes his eyes for a moment as if praying for strength. “That's right, sweetheart,” he says with a grimace. “But I'm sure Chris doesn't need to hear about all that."

Chris begs to differ – he’s actually extremely interested in hearing about all this, but before he has a chance to say anything in reply, Margot squares her jaw and crosses her football jersey-clad arms.

“Why not?” she asks defiantly. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Some girls just like girls and some boys like boys, it’s totally normal. It’s not prola- probu –" She sighs in frustration, looking up at her dad, who’s watching her with something like pride on his handsome face.

“Problematic?”

“Yeah,” Margot concurs, “not probametic.”  

Chris hums in agreement. “It’s not, you’re absolutely right. I’ll tell you what,” he tells her conspiratorially, “I happen to like boys better, too.”

Margot’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You do?”

“I do.”

Suddenly, Margot’s little face lights up, her shrewd eyes flitting to her dad’s face for a second, then back to Chris. “Do you like my dad?”

“Margot,” Sebastian cuts in, a hint of exasperation in his tone. “That’s enough, honey.” When he tuns back to Chris to give him an apologetic look, Chris can’t help but notice the slight blush coloring his cheeks. “I’m sorry about that. She’s gotten it into her head that she needs to find me the perfect man ASAP, or I’ll waste away or something.”

Chris laughs, throwing back his head in genuine mirth. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine,” he assures them, then claps his hands together to change the precarious subject. “So, who’s ready to learn a little bit about what living in Concord was like over a hundred years ago?”

******

Chris always enjoys volunteering at the museum – it’s nice to give something back to the community that’s been his home for his entire life, and to chat to visitors from all over who have come to visit the land of Little Women, among other things – but what Chris likes best is when he gets to show kids around the place. Some of them need to be won over (after all, a dusty old museum isn’t quite as exciting as a trip to Disney World), but others are instantly captivated by the strange objects and old-timey atmosphere – Sebastian’s kids, fortunately, seem to fall in the latter category.

There’s one room in particular that’s an invariably a favorite with kids – the one that houses the old children’s toys. Trains, dolls and dollhouses, most of them made from wood, all arranged in a colorful parade, with a few screens set up in front of the glass display cases on which kids can watch animations of the toys being used. To Chris’s delight, Margot and David are both immediately taken with the display, David pressing his nose against the glass while Margot fires off question after question that Chris answers patiently and to the best of his ability.

“You sure know a lot about them,” Sebastian remarks, not without a hint of admiration, once Chris has finished explaining the mechanics of the miniature train set.

“Ah.” Chris rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess you could say I’m something of a toy enthusiast myself. I’ve actually got a carpentry workshop – that’s my real job,” he explains. “I’m just a volunteer here – and I dabble in some toy making sometimes, too.”

Sebastian’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding. I used to want to be a toy maker when I was a kid, you know,” he says wistfully. “Probably just saw Pinocchio one too many times, but it just seemed like the best job in the world to me, at the time.”

“It kinda is,” Chris grins at Sebastian, getting lost in his dancing grey eyes for a moment. “So what did you end up doing for a living, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m a journalist. I love it, don’t get me wrong. It’s enriching, challenging. But there’s just something about working with your hands, creating something tangible, something useful…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Chris nods. He bites his lip, hesitating for just a moment before deciding to bite the bullet. “Hey, I don’t know if you guys have plans after this, but my shift ends in a few minutes. I live pretty close, maybe a ten minute drive – if you want, I could show you my workshop? Maybe the kids can try out some of the things I’ve been working on, see if they’re actually any fun to play with?”

There’s an excited collective gasp from the kids, both of them immediately turning big, hopeful eyes on their father. “Oh, daddy,” Margot pleads, tugging on his sleeve. “Can we go see the workshop, pleaaase?”  

Chris tries to ignore the way his stomach drops when Sebastian visibly hesitates.

“I don’t know, guys.” Sebastian looks back at Chris. “I don't want to intrude. It’s almost dinner time on a Saturday. I’m sure you’ve got plans, maybe with your partner..?”

Oh, Chris thinks, chest expanding with hope. He shakes his head. “No partner,” he says, holding Sebastian’s gaze. “Just a dog.”

“A dog?” Margot squeals. “Oh my god, daddy, he’s got a dog. We have to go.”

Sebastian chuckles, rolling his eyes. "They've been hounding me about a dog for months, excuse the pun. I want one too, but I'm just not sure I'm home enough.”

Chris nods sympathetically. “Yeah, it can be tricky if you work full-time, but there’s usually a solution for this kind of thing, in my experience.”

“What’s your dog’s name?” Margot interrupts, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet.

“He’s called Dodger,” Chris tells her, unable to keep the pride out of his voice as he talks about his beloved, four legged-rescue.

From Sebastian’s other side, a small voice suddenly joins in. “Like the one from Oliver?” asks David. His big, brown eyes are wide as he stares up at Chris.

“That’s right,” Chris confirms, dropping to his haunches to level the playing field a little. “Exactly like the one from Oliver. You like that movie, huh?”

David nods, looping one arm around one of his dad’s long legs while clearly fighting the urge to hide behind him completely. “It’s my favorite,” he mutters, then quickly sticks his thumb in his mouth to signal the end of the conversation.

“Really?” Chris asks, beaming at him. “It’s my favorite, too!”

David actually smiles at that, doing an excited little wiggle on the spot. “Daddy, can we go see Dodger, please?” he asks his dad, not bothering to remove his thumb from his mouth.

From his spot on the floor, Chris looks up Sebastian too, probably looking just as hopeful as the kids are – maybe even more so.

Smiling, Sebastian shakes his head. “Sure, buddy,” he laughs, ruffling David’s hair. “How could I resist all these cute little faces, huh?”

There’s a chorus of cheers from the kids that gives Chris a much-needed moment to recover from the euphoria of hearing Sebastian call him cute. Well, sort of.

“Alright,” Chris says, getting to his feet again. “I’ll just go grab my things. Meet you guys in the parking lot?”

“Sounds good.”

Chris nods and is about to head in the direction of the staff room, when Sebastian halts him with a hand on his arm. Chris stops in his tracks, swallowing as he tears his gaze away from Sebastian’s elegant hand on his bicep, back to his face.

“Thank you,” Sebastian says, giving him a look from under his eyelashes that can only be described as coy. “I really appreciate this, you know.”

Holding Sebastian’s gaze, Chris lifts a hand to cover Sebastian’s with his own, giving it a quick squeeze. “It’s my pleasure,” he replies honestly. “Trust me.”

Smiling, Sebastian bites his lip, no doubt noticing the way Chris’s eyes flicker down to his mouth when he does. “I do.”

Chris’s foolishly romantic heart can’t help but skip a beat.

“See,” Margot says suddenly from beside them, breaking the moment and sounding awfully smug about it, too. “Not prolametic at all.”

Chris barks out a laugh while Sebastian covers his eyes with his hand. “Whatever you do, never have kids.”  

“Oh, I dunno,” Chris chuckles, giving Margot a wink and David’s hair a quick ruffle. “I kinda like yours.”

Sebastian clears his throat. “Alright, guys. Let’s go find your jackets and we’ll go see what Chris has in store for us, huh?”