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nico-di-genova · 4 years ago

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coffee shop au please cass 🥺🥺

Maya, you genius, I love you for sending me this!!

“You know,” Nile says, coming up behind him as he’s putting the finishing touches on a hazelnut latte, “if you’re going for subtlety, I’m not sure a heart is the right choice.”

Nicky feels the beginnings of a blush warm his cheeks, “It’s the only design I know how to do.” He’s swirling the heart atop the coffee before him with practiced ease, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he puts all his concentration into perfecting the latte art. This part of the job had never been a part of his training. Quynh and Andy preferred it when the drinks were completed efficiently, but right now it was slow, and the man who ordered the coffee was a regular; Nicky may have also thought he was cute, but that was beside the point.

Nile leaned over his shoulder, just enough to get a better look at the small details Nicky was adding to the foam, “With how much work you’re putting into this, it may as well be a confession of your love.”

“I don’t love him,” Nicky hisses under his breath, glancing up just long enough to cast a look at the man across the café, sitting at his usual spot by the large bay windows. He’s already got his sketchbook out on the table before him, a pencil in his hand. Nicky tries not to stare too long at the curve of his lips, or the way his curls stick out from underneath the beanie he’s wearing. He makes even more of an effort to ignore how breathing suddenly becomes a lot harder. “I barely know him, Nile. I’m just being nice.”

“You’ve been working on his drink for five minutes now.”

“It’s called customer service.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she teases, smiling in a way that tells him she’s just picking on him. Nile is the only coworker who knows about his crush on Joe, she’s the main reason he’d even spoken to the man in the first place. Usually, she runs the register, and he makes the drinks. When she’d noticed how he stared at Joe, how the tips of his ears would go pink when the man laughed at one of Nile’s terrible jokes, she’d make some excuse to slip into the back when Joe came in, forcing Nicky to finally speak to the man, rather than marvel from afar.

He swirls one final flourish into the design, and then steps back to admire his work. The heart is a little lopsided, but Nicky supposes it’s the effort that counts. “There. Done.”

Nile takes another quick look at the drink, “Looks great. You should probably bring it to him before it becomes an iced latte though.”

It is the longest he’s spent making a drink, but another quick glance at Joe tells him the man doesn’t mind. He’s already thoroughly engrossed in whatever sketch he’s working on today. From the few short snippets of conversation they’ve had, Nicky knows he’s studying art at the university down the street, the same school Nicky attended for philosophy and law. He’d yet to see any of Joe’s work though. As he always did when Nicky approached, he snapped his sketchbook shut quickly and then looked up with a smile that was dazzling enough that Nicky’s brain always short-circuited a bit.

“Hey again coffee boy, I was starting to think you got lost back there,” Joe’s voice was light. In the golden afternoon sun that filtered through the window behind him, he looked ethereal. Nicky had to force himself to remember how to breathe.

“I um… I was trying something different.” Joe’s order is always the same. Hazelnut latte, one pump of liquid sugar and one pump of pumpkin syrup. It was just on the cusp of too sweet for Nicky, but Joe must have liked it, he came into the café at least three times a week for it.

Joe’s smile widens, “Yeah? Different how?”

In lieu of an answer, Nicky places the drink before Joe. He can’t help the nerves that bubble up inside him. It’s dumb to get so worked up about a drink, especially because there’s no way it could compare to whatever Joe kept hidden in his sketchbook. Even still, he twists his hands anxiously as he watches Joe study the latte.

“You did this?”

“Yes. I’m still learning, so it’s not perfect-.”

“It’s great, Nicky!” He looks back up at Nicky, brown eyes bright with the light from the sun and the joy he seemed to constantly radiate. “Are you sure art’s not your thing?”

The first time Joe had told him what he was going to school for, Nicky had made the mistake of blurting out that he’d never met a real artist. He was distracted by Joe’s freckles at the time, and only continued to stick his foot further in his mouth by explaining that he’d never understood art. He’d come out sounding pretentious, like he was putting Joe down, when really he’d just lost control of his mouth. Nile had picked at him for a week after that, only stopping when she realized how mortified Nicky really was. Even the mention of the conversation is enough to make his blush deepen, he can feel the heat of it spreading to his neck.

“Don’t worry, Nicky. I’m only teasing. It’s good, you’re very talented.”

Nicky, who has never been the best at receiving praise, even from people he doesn’t want to kiss, finds himself at a sudden loss for words. Joe’s curls, the freckles that dot his skin like constellations, the way he twirls the pencil in his hand as they talk, with nimble fingers and practiced skill, it makes Nicky feel like he’s about to combust. He can spend hours debating the merits of good deeds, can present a case before a mock jury with the cool demeanor of someone far his senior, but around Joe, any sort of speaking skills seem to go right out the window.

He manages to stumble over a quiet, “thank you,” before turning to rush back behind the counter. It’s embarrassment that forces him to keep walking, right past Nile’s questioning gaze, and into the stockroom that’s hidden away from customer view. He takes a very vested interest in the stock of styrofoam cups and sweetener packets, counting each individual thing until the blush and pounding of his heart fades. 204 cups, 518 sugar packets, and one idiot who loses the ability to speak anytime the boy with pretty eyes and a soft smile comes into the shop.

By the time Nicky works up the courage to come back to the counter, Joe’s already left. Nile’s still there though, leaning against the register and looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“You’re a disaster,” she states.

He groans, “I know.” He leans heavily on the counter before him, burying his head in his hands.

“Joe must like train wrecks though,” Nile continues. He can feel when she moves to stand beside him and looks up to see her offering him a piece of folded paper. “He left this for you.”

Nicky tries not to look too excited as he grabs the paper and quickly unfolds it. When he catches sight of what’s on it, his breath leaves him all over again. It’s him, unmistakably so, down to the mole on the right side of his face. Joe has left out nothing. He’s drawn Nicky’s apron, syrup stains and all, the untied laces of his right shoe, the strand of hair that always sticks up at an odd angle and refuses to stay down no matter how much Nicky fusses at it. Under the drawing, there’s handwriting:

‘Call me, maybe I can show you some ‘real’ art sometime.’

Nicky’s mouth has gone dry.

“Is that his number?!” Nile shrieks, snatching the paper from his hands to get a better look at the ten digits that have been left under Joe’s message. Nicky feels his heartrate pick up all over again.

“You got his number! This is possibly the smoothest pickup method I’ve ever seen.”

Nicky nods, but he’s not really listening to what Nile’s saying. He’s too busy thinking about a hazelnut latte, one pump of liquid sugar, one pump of pumpkin syrup, and a badly drawn heart on the top.

#anyway #if you need me I will be starting my own coffeeshop in a small italian village just to feel happiness #my fic #the old guard

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unioncolours · 3 years ago

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A 2nd Majsasaurus Year!

Today, 22nd of September 2021, it’s been two years since I officially joined the magical world of fandom. 22.9.2019 I uploaded the first chapter to my fic Shadows and Sand, and the rest is history.

I did a deep dive into my first year as a fic writer and active member of fandom last year, when it was my first anniversary. You can read it here!

In that meta discussion about my membership of fandom, I presented it as if walking on clouds. I was so, so happy and talked during all the discussion about my happiness in fandom.

Since that post was written, my life and also my perception of the fandom I am part of has changed. Change isn’t always bad, as I really had a honeymoon phase with fandom over a year ago, and the low after hit hard.

But let’s see what I’ve been up to and what I’ve been writing! The following year provided much change and fun things! Please keep reading 💜⬇

The first fic I wrote since 22.9.2020 was a Sakura x Ino fic. I had for a longer while been interested in writing a woman-loves-woman ship, which I had never done before, and as a wlw-person myself the urge to explore that part led to Promise me this is just a kiss. The pairing itself was chosen on rather random, it had to be two women and I like Ino, so I chose the most popular Ino-wlw ship for this for convenience.

I really liked writing the fic and it was well-received! It was the first time I had written a fic that was entirely centred around exploring feelings and having sex.

After this I jumped directly onto the next idea that had been boiling inside me for a longer while. Up to this point, all I had written, except the wlw-fic, had been set in the Naruto canonverse and I was itching to try to work with a multi-chaptered modern au! The pairing was of course my beloved Shikadai x Inojin.

It was during the creation of this fic I began to struggle. This was a new genre, as this was romance only and all my other works had been action and fantasy based, except the sex fic of course. I was maybe over critical and stressed, which resulted in me having a hard time writing it. But I made it. Was the sky always this beautiful? ended up being 35k long, and in hindsight, I freaking love, love, love how it turned out in the end and what it represented. I am very proud of this fic.

I “upgraded” as a fan by the end of October when I bought myself a digital drawing tablet. I began drawing fanart of Shikadai and Inojin and preferably them two together, haha! I still draw a few days a month and find it extremely fun as a side hobby beside the writing.

We are now in November 2020. By this time, I had completely finished my zine fic, Under the Scorching Sun, which I had written during September and October, for the Shikatema zine I was kindly accepted to. I was proud of what I had created and was eager for the rest of the contributors to wrap up theirs, so we’d have a wonderful zine for sale in 2021. It was lovely to write ShikaTema again. As the zine fic was about to be released in months from when I had at first finished it, I wanted of course to write something fans and friends could immediately take part of on the internet. I had hyped myself up to a state where I wanted to write a third and final story in my series To love and never let go, my epic series about Shikadai and Inojin.

Now, I should maybe have waited another month, but I was worried the readers would give up on me if I didn’t write it right away. In December, I began writing To find hope in the Universe, with my usual speed and love for the art.

What I by then didn’t realise or even recognise was that I was very slowly turning burned out. I ignored all the signs.

In December I wrote simultaneously as Hope in the Universe a fic that was part of the Shikatema server’s Secret Santa event. The fic’s name was The Ghost Stories of our Hearts, and it was ShikaTema, as the event’s name suggests. It was fun to write and despite the final big fic, Hope in the Universe, pressing down on me, I finished The Ghost Stories of our Hearts and was very happy with the result. Sadly, at this point the burnout began taking control over me, and I never managed to reply to the comments.

The 15th of January, I began uploading To find hope in the Universe. It was a lovely experience, even if it was tainted by negative feelings coming from my decreasing happiness and the fact that it didn’t do as well as To dance above the Stars, the second fic in the series. To deal with two very contradiction emotions, loving my work, the characters, how I have painted an entire world around the characters and how I knew some people honestly loved my hard work, and then the negative feelings coming from not feeling good enough and depressed, was a difficult thing to navigate and still is when I think back to that time. It didn’t help that during the process of uploading the fic I went through grief, and I chose distraction as my coping method. I kept writing and working, the only thing I ever knew.

Our pre-order of the Shikatema zine was in full motion by this time and it was a nerve-wracking time! Mostly because of excitement but also worry. I’m super happy for my friends who were part of the zine, with whom I could share all the excitement and nervousness with. The zine ended up making good sales, which made me happy among the uploading of the long fic.

To find hope in the Universe was completed 31st of March 2021. When I uploaded the final chapter, I felt nothing. It was so weird, so spooky, to have finished a long fic and a series on top of that and not feel anything. But deep down, beneath the layer of depression, I felt great pride.

That was the emotion that broke free once the burnout left me. Pride.

I had created this empire of Shikajin, a whole alternative timeline, an alternative canon from my own head and to this day, that is my internet legacy. I love Trial of the Heart, which I wrote in 2020, but if I have to choose between ToH and this series, I will choose To love and never let go in a heartbeat.

So, even if it felt depressing and hopeless in the moment, I look now back with pride and happiness. Never forget that. Never forget that I made that.

April was a curious time. I swore to not write anything, because I had by now recognised that I was burned out and needed to rest, yet managed to scrape together three smaller fics.

The first one was another wlw-smut fic, TemaSaku this time called Another Light. I wanted to explore that part once again. I wrote it in canonverse and honestly think the fic ended up extremely nice. Perfect amount of feels and sex. It didn’t feel hard to write at all, because the setting, characters and emotions were so different from the fics I had written the last five months.

Now more interesting things lay on the horizon! A new zine, the Ino-Shika-Cho zine called Beyond a Bond had an interest check during the spring, and later the contributor application. I urged in the interest check to please give us the next gen kids, Shikadai, Inojin and Chocho – my kids and babies, and when it turned out they were going to feature, I had to apply as a writer. For this application I wrote a one shot, called It’s just hair, and I loved this spunky little story featuring the best babies that I created.

I also edited one of my tumblr fics, And then I kissed him, into a longer, better version that I later in May uploaded onto AO3. It was once again a Shikajin, a sequel of Trial of the Heart, and it was a fun little project.

Now May came and I sent in the application for the zine early, which I now am relieved I did. I am happy that I did the work for the application in April instead of May, because in May I had a few breakdowns and another grieving period, which lead to complete creative paralysis. I didn’t write a single word during May, only uploaded the two one shots I had prepared in April.

What I did do in May was to read through the Shikatema zine I had contributed to! It arrived in the mail! I was so nervous; my whole body was shaking when I opened the package right outside the post office. The zine now resides on the parade place in my little zine shrine in the bookshelf. Thank you to the mods who made this a reality!

To my great happiness my zine adventures continued as I was accepted to the Ino-Shika-Cho zine as a writer and was assigned to write my favourite characters. I felt so relieved and overjoyed, mind blown by the sheer talent among the contributors.

On the other fandom front, June didn’t continue any brighter, with stress and mental pain still having a strong grip around me, despite the very happy news that I am still so grateful for. I wrote a Yamanaka family fic which to this day hasn’t seen the light of AO3, because of negative emotions surrounding it. I turned into a complete wreck compared to me in June 2020. In June 2020 I was flourishing, I loved what I did, I loved fandom and I loved the friends I had made through Discord servers. Now I could find myself crying my eyes out over a wip not going the way I wished it would. What had happened to Bex 2021?

I was so incredibly frustrated with myself, groaning in defeat when my hands just couldn’t write. I managed to push through 6k of what I called my “emo au” – more of that later – and finish the Yamanaka fic which is still buried, and on top of that I had the zine and another fandom event, The Naruto Photo Album, to create content for. Why couldn’t I do it? Why couldn’t I find happiness in something that once was my reason for happiness?

In the end, I managed to write 15k in June. My former monthly word count used to be 30k. One could think this would turn into the end of my fic writing career, or the beginning of a longer hiatus, but I am stubborn and want to meet the expectations of the people who love my content, so I didn’t want to give up. I wanted to try. I wanted to be whoever I was before.

Funnily enough, the healing came in the shape of the most self-indulgent fic I have ever, ever written, a fic I like possessed began writing July the 1st 2021. It was nothing less than a freaking fairy tale AU, namely a Shikadai x Inojin Peter Pan AU. I can hear you laugh at the silliness of it, but this whimsical AU gave me back my love for writing. I hyper-fixated on this story quite a bit and stopped writing on everything else, something I almost never do.

Only happy boys fly ended up being 21 000 words long! I knew it was a niched story, and true to my guesses, the story has to this day very low stats. Today, two months after it was published, it has just above 100 hits and 10 kudos, so for all I know, only ten people read and liked it. I try to not care too much, since I love the story and in some way, that story saved me from going batshit insane over my emotions about writing.

At this point I had begun writing my fic from the Ino-Shika-Cho zine, finding joy in silly scenes with my favourite characters and trying to heal. The writing process was frustratingly slow, but one word at a time I got forward and as of today, the draft is done. The pre-orders are in December. At the side of the zine fic I wrote a short fluffy Shikajin story, CLEAR, a story with almost no plot, because I knew how much self-indulgence could help me.

And then, I finally began writing for real on my emo au, A gang of fallen stars, which has the first few chapters up right now! I have for the first time in six months a longer fic (if we don’t count the Peter Pan story) and it feels… good. This fic is once again a modern au, but in darker tones than my other modern au from November 2020. I honestly like what I have so far, even if I during June and July almost planned to never finish it. I am so relieved I managed to begin the upload. In September the Photo Album was released and I could show my two fics I wrote for it.

It sounds like this year has been nothing but misery, and at times it felt like it. However, there are a few fandom friends who brought light to my life when I couldn’t see it. The first ones to mention are of course my partners in crime, @notquitejiraiya and @thespookymoth. Together we created a server dedicated to Ino-Shika-Cho during the spring and it has been tons of fun with the members there! Thank you two for listening to me and for being my friends during 2021.

I also have to mention Soverel, who carefully begun taking contact through comments and likes on my twitter, and later through direct messages, and it has been a fun ride ever since. We’ve had lovely discussions which are very dear to me and your support means a lot to me. Thank you for being you and for drawing so many wonderful artworks you’ve shared with me. Haha, and for making me play Genshin Impact, even though I do it like twice a month!

Another person who has made my days so much brighter is @sugarriene. Thank you for sending me that one dm that made us chat regularly, thank you for popping up and sharing panels and your wonderful drawings with me, and for vibing head canons with me. You are a lovely person, and you make me happy.

Finally, I want to give a shout out to @yoboseyokyu for listening to me when I had to yell into the void and for making me happy with your cute posts on both twitter and tumblr.

Since September 2020, I’ve written around 195 000 words and drawn close to 35 illustrations, most of them of Shikadai and Inojin. Almost 200 000 words of Majsasaurus. I’ve created a Discord server and I’ve been part of two zines as a writer, plus a free PDF-project.

It has been a wild year. A year filled with passion for my favourite characters and ship, with the excitement that came with being part of projects and hyping them. It was a year where I learned to draw digitally, and heck what fun it was.

This also a year where I learned people can be mean to me because of what I ship and that fandom friends won’t necessarily always stay to be your friend anymore and how much it can hurt. I also learned what my limits are, and what punishment I get if I don’t listen to my own mind and rest when I have to.

It was a year, guys.

Now, onto the third Majsasaurus Year. Cheers!

And those of you, who supported me when I needed it – thank you and I love you.

#majsasaurus

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years ago

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Skill without imagination is craftsmanship and gives us many useful objects such as wickerwork picnic baskets. Imagination without skill gives us modern art.

- Tom Stoppard, Artist Descending a Staircase

Sir Anish Kapoor’s ArcelorMittal Orbit tower was completed in 2012 at a cost of £19 million ($27 million). It was intended to be a permanent lasting legacy of London's hosting of the 2012 Summer Olympic and Paralympic Games, assisting in the post-Olympics regeneration of the Stratford area. At 376 feet (114.5 metres) it became the UK’s tallest public artwork.

London Mayor Boris Johnson put into motion a design competition that was held in 2009 and it called for designs for an "Olympic tower". A 9 panel commission made of the great and the good was set up to recommend to both Johnson and the government. It received about 50 submissions. Boris Johnson had said that his early concept for the project was something more modest than Orbit, along the lines of "a kind of 21st-century Trajan's Column", but this was dropped when more daring ideas were received. Boris Johnson was believed to want something like the Eiffel Tower or the Statue of Liberty what he and the government settled on was something completely different with Turner-Prize winning artist Sir Anish Kapoor in partnership with Cecil Balmond of Arup Group, an engineering firm.

Kapoor said that one of the influences on his design was the Tower of Babel, the sense of "building the impossible" that "has something mythic about it", and that the form "straddles Eiffel and Tatlin". Balmond, working on the metaphor of an orbit, envisaged an electron cloud moving, to create a structure that appears unstable, propping itself up, "never centred, never quite vertical". Both believe that Orbit represents a new way of thinking, "a radical new piece of structure and architecture and art" that uses non-linearity – the use of "instabilities as stabilities." The spaces inside the structure, in between the twisting steel, are "cathedral like", according to Balmond, while according to Kapoor, the intention is that visitors will engage with the piece as they wind "up and up and in on oneself" on the spiral walkway.

The Independent described Orbit as "a continuously looping lattice ... made up of eight strands winding into each other and combined by rings like a jagged knot". The Guardian describes it as a "giant lattice tripod sporting a counterweight collar around its neck designed to offset the weight of its head, a two-storey dining and viewing gallery". According to the BBC, the design incorporates the five Olympic rings.

Upon its launch Johnson said "It would have boggled the minds of the Romans. It would have boggled Gustave Eiffel." Nicholas Serota, a member of the design panel, said that Orbit was a tower with an interesting twist, with "the energy you might traditionally associate with this type of structure but in a surprisingly female form.”

When Anish Kapoor’s commission for the Olympic Park in London was unveiled no one really noticed, as most viewers thought it was still under construction.

Orbit confused viewers for sometime, but when they realised that the twisted metal structure in place was indeed an artwork they were up in arms. It was soon slammed by critics and citizens alike.

Overall reception to Orbit was mixed, but mostly negative. With regard to its potential as a lasting visitor attraction, The Guardian's Mark Brown reflected on the mixed fortunes of other large symbolic London visitor attractions such as the popular, but loss-making, Thames Tunnel; the Skylon structure, dismantled on the orders of Winston Churchill; and the successful London Eye. When plans were first reported for an Olympic tower, the media pointed to a manifesto pledge of Johnson's to crack down on tall buildings, in order to preserve London's "precious" skyline. The Times criticised the idea as a vanity project of Johnson's, with a design "matching his bravado", built to "seal his legacy", surmising it would be compared to other similar vanity projects such as the "wedding cake", the Monument to Vittorio Emanuele II built in Rome, or the Neutrality Arch, a rotating golden statue erected by Turkmenistan's President Saparmurat Niyazov, while comparing Johnson to Ozymandias. Art critic Brian Sewell said "Our country is littered with public art of absolutely no merit. We are entering a new period of fascist gigantism. These are monuments to egos and you couldn't find a more monumental ego than Boris."

The Times reported the description of it being the "Godzilla of public art". In October 2012, ArcelorMittal Orbit was nominated and made the Building Design magazine shortlist for the Carbuncle Cup - an award for the worst British building completed in the past year, which was ultimately awarded to the Cutty Sark renovation.

Jay Merrick of The Independent said that "[Orbit's] sculptural power lies in its ability to suggest an unfinished form in the process of becoming something else", describing how its artistic riskiness elevated it above the banal artworks of the public art movement that have been built elsewhere in Britain's towns and cities. Merrick was of the opinion that it would be either loved or hated, being a design which is "beautifully fractious, and not quite knowable".

Jonathan Glancey of The Guardian described Orbit as "Olympian in ambition" and a "fusion between striking art and daring engineering", and said that, the Aquatics Centre apart, it represented the architecturally striking Joker in the pack, given that the rest of the landscaping and architecture for the Games "promises little to get excited about". He believed it would become a "genuine eyecatcher" for the Olympics television coverage, with its extraordinary form being a "strange and enticing marriage of sorts" between the Eiffel Tower and the un-built early Soviet era Tatlin's Tower, with the biblical Tower of Babel as "best man".

The Times writer Tom Dyckhoff, while calling it "a gift to the tabloids" and a "giant Mr. Messy", questioned whether the Olympic site needed another pointless icon, postulating whether it would stand the test of time like the London Eye and become a true icon to match the Eiffel Tower, or a hopeless white elephant. Suggesting the project had echoes of Tatlin's Monument to the Third International, and especially Constant Nieuwenhuys' utopian city New Babylon, he asked whether Orbit was just as revolutionary or possessed the same ideological purpose, or whether it was merely "a giant advert for one of the world’s biggest multinationals, sweetened with a bit of fun".

Rowan Moore of The Guardian questioned if it was going to be anything more than a folly, or whether it would be as eloquent as the Statue of Liberty. He speculated that the project might mark the time when society stops using large iconic projects as a tool for lifting areas out of deprivation. He questioned its ability to draw people's attention to Stratford after the Games, in a similar manner to the successes of the Angel of the North or the Guggenheim Museum Bilbao. He also questioned the piece's ability to strike a chord like the Angel, which he believed had at least "created a feelgood factor and sense of pride" in Gateshead, or whether it would simply become one of the "many more unloved rotting wrecks that no one has the nerve to demolish". He postulated that the addition of stairs and a lift made Orbit less succinct than Kapoor's previous successful works, while ultimately he said "hard to see what the big idea is, beyond the idea of making something big".

Fellow Guardian writer John Graham-Cumming rejected comparisons to icons like the Eiffel Tower, which had itself not been intended to be a lasting monument, only persisting into public acceptance as art through being useful; he also pointed out the Colossus of Rhodes collapsed within a few decades, and the Tower of Babel was "constructed to glorify those that constructed it." He suggested that a future mayor should reconsider whether it should be pulled down. Questioning its corporate role, he believed that meant it looked less and less like a work of art and more like a vanity project.

Even Sir Anish Kapoor acknowledged the criticism and said of its clunky features,“It’s an object with all its elbows sticking out and it is slightly awkward, but I think I made it for that reason, I wanted it to be slightly awkward.”

After the 2012 Olympic Games, the Orbit tower was used as an observation tower, running at a loss of £520,000 ($884,000) in 2014–15, according to the BBC—or losing up to £10,000 ($17,000) a week in 2014, according to the Guardian newspaper.

Amidst the rising clamour of the costs matched only by the disdainful disinterest in the massive sculpture, something had to be done.

To appease Londoners, ex-London Mayor Boris Johnson brought in Carsten Höller to add a slide to the 376 feet tall artwork, making it the highest slide in Europe.

Kapoor later said he was pushed into the high profile collaboration by Johnson. Kapoor would later say that Johnson’s request “felt to me as if it was turning the whole thing in the wrong direction.”

“It was not always my thinking. The mayor foisted this on the project and there was a moment where I had to make a decision - do I go to battle with the mayor or is there a more elegant or astute way through this?,” he told the Guardian.

“I knew of Carsten’s work so I thought, well, who better than a fellow artist to join up with and make this a positive story rather than a negative… Luckily, and thankfully, Carsten was open to it, so we found a way round this,” Kapoor explained.

Judging by the unforgettable success of Höller’s slide installation at Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall, it’s easy to imagine what made Kapoor click and extend the invitation to the Belgian-born Stockholm-based artist.

“One makes artworks for other reasons than profit,” Kapoor told the Guardian. “I understand this is run as a so-called attraction, which I have problems with personally… I want it to be slightly more highbrow than that, without wanting to be pompous about it. There’s a difference between a fairground ride and art,” he added.

Höller, meanwhile, took a more lighthearted approach, urging people to embrace “the amusement side of it.”

“A child might be here purely for the slide, while the serious art lover might see this in purely formalistic terms. I personally like the confusion, that you don’t know what it is but it still creates a very unique experience,” he told the Guardian.

The ArcelorMittal Orbit re-opened to the public on 5 April 2014. Since then it has done below average business in attracting people to come and visit it or try the slide.

The London Legacy Development Corporation (LLDC), which runs the park where the sculpture is located, released numbers revealing the sculpture’s sizeable debt and a steep drop in visitors. Steel magnate Lakshmi Mittal had provided a £9.2 million ($11.2 million) loan to help pay for the original construction of the sculpture, but this loan has ballooned to £13 million due to the accrual of interest.

Ticket sales to the observation platform and a tunnel slide designed by Carsten Höller were meant to help repay the loan, but low visitor attendance prompted a £58,000 ($70,000) loss in 2018/19 alone. Visitor numbers have dropped from a high of 193,000 in 2016/17, when Höller’s slide was introduced, to 155,000 in 2018/19.

It’s not just an artistic folly but a commercial one too.

It's not wholly fanciful that such artistic scuptural landmarks can help lift places. No one can put a figure on jobs created or investments made in Gateshead thanks to the Angel of the North, but it has at least created a feelgood factor and sense of pride. The Bilbao Guggenheim of 1996, still the archetype of such town-boosting, certainly placed a relatively obscure city at the centre of attention.

Buildings can't do it alone and if people find their attention has been drawn only to a wasteland, they will go away again. The Guggenheim worked because there were also dull practical things in Bilbao such as new transport infrastructure and business parks.

But the most important ingredient of a successful icon is that it works artistically. It has to strike a chord, sound the right note, catch a mood, win hearts and confound sceptics. In other words it has to be aesthetically pleasing because it’s good art made by equally by great craft and graft.

The ArcelorMittal Orbit has become an unloved rotting wreck that no one has the nerve to demolish.

#orbit #stoppard #quote #britain #art #sculpture #modern art #olympics #society #culture #aesthetics #anish kapoor #carsten holler

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ohmypawsandwhiskers · 4 years ago

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2020 Wrap-Up

I was tagged by @ammocharis to share what I was working on over the past year! While this year has been hectic, I joined the wonderful DAOCE server and participated in Reddit threads that helped me develop my OC, Nehna! I also was inspired to pick up drawing, but that doesn’t have many pictures XD

1. Piece I spent the most time on

(art for banner done by @singuminklarity)

I started this labor of love this year, which was originally planned to be 20 chapters, and now I’m looking at possibly 40. I worked on it predominately throughout the month of November, with NaNoWriMo, and it has taken on a life of its own. Nehna is quite possibly one of my favorite OCs I’ve made, and it has also been an absolute blast to just fill in some of the lore for ancient elves and how life would have been. It is nowhere near done, but I am so excited to keep writing it.

You can find that work here

2. Secret Santa

I did something new this year, and I participated in a Secret Santa, where I got to try my hand at writing someone else’s OC and their pairing. It was something that was nerve-wrecking, because you are never sure if you are portraying things correctly, but it paid off in the end!

You can read what I wrote for my recipient here! Cullen ponders what to do for Wintersend.

3. Piece I spent little time on

I have never really had a space to create a page for an OC, but I created a wiki page for Nehna, that gives her an overview of her character arch. It needs some tweaking, but it was interesting to figure out how to set up a wiki page!

4. Ongoing projects

I have been doing some short drabbles that may or may not end up in the stories I have planned. Most of them are on reddit, but I might migrate them over to ao3.

5. Academically

I assisted a comparative study that examined how Germany trains their police force vs. how my home county in the US trains theirs. The hope is to improve not only community relations, but also move towards a more holistic approach to dealing with crises in the community and limit fatalities and police brutality.

I am also working on my PHD proposal regarding the ICC’s actions in African countries. It has stalled for a bit as a result of mental health, but I think I’m about seven pages in?

Project count: who knows XD I haven’t taken my ADD meds to be that organized today.

If you feel like doing a wrap up, feel free to do one! I’m tagging @noire-pandora @in-arlathan @tejaswrites @molliehaswords @curiousthimble @dreamerlavellan @caffeinatedrogue and anyone else that is interested!

#wrapped2020 #paws speaks

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missgarnet · 4 years ago

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Scars to Your Beautiful

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.8k

Genre:tattoo artist au / fluff

Part One of Yours, Mine, & Ours

Part Two Part Three

Summary:Y/N has struggled to feel beautiful in her own skin, but Jungkook is determined to change that.

Link to ao3

You paced back and forth outside the tattoo parlor, trying to work up the nerve to go in. The appointment was made weeks ago, but you became a nervous wreck every time you thought about meeting with the artist and having them see the mess they would have to cover.

The door creaked on your way in, but that was the only noise in the room. You checked the time on your phone, only five minutes until your appointment, but there wasn’t anyone there. You sat in one of the waiting chairs, bouncing your leg and checking your phone to pass time. As you were getting up to go back outside, you heard a voice coming from the back. Someone was singing from the back of the shop, their voice creating a calming melody. You can’t help but stay, wanting to hear the rest of the song. Their voice was so clear and filled with emotion, and as you listened you could feel your eyes beginning to water.

The guy singing turned the corner, and immediately froze as the two of you made eye contact. His doe eyes made him look even more like a deer in headlights as he stepped into the room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the door open.”

You started fiddling with the edge of your skirt, trying to steady your voice and speak up. “No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure if I should’ve called before, or knocked at the door, or...” you felt your face growing warmer with every word as you rambled on, constantly apologizing for interrupting him.

Jungkook scrunched his nose and gave a bunny smile while he listened to you going on and on, eventually the sight became too much and he started laughing at your reaction.

Your rambling came to a sudden halt when the sound of his laughter finally registered. “You know, it’s rude to laugh at someone,” you snap, looking up to meet his eyes. “Here I am, apparently making a fool out of myself by apologizing for walking in five minutes early, and… and you don’t even care enough to just stop and listen to me. Instead you just stand there laughing and make me feel like even more of an idiot, as if that were even possible.”

He starts to blush and picks at his hair as he mumbles something under his breath.

“Excuse me?”

He glances up and tries to avoid looking at you as he speaks up, “I said I was only laughing because you look cute when you ramble… and when you get all angry.”

“Oh,” your anger begins to soften at his observation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to act angry or rude, especially when you were nice enough to make this appointment on short notice. I’m just going through a lot and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. If you want I can go, I’ll still pay for this appointment time.”

“No, please stay,” he says this in a soft sweet voice as if he were asking a question. You can’t bring yourself to respond yet, afraid that one word will cause you to break down and start crying already. After a small nod of your head, he leads the way into a small glass office with sketches framed on the back wall.

There’s a petite young woman sitting in one of the chairs next to the large black desk inside. It was almost comical how large the over-sized headphones she wore looked on someone so small. The artist tapped her foot along to whatever music she was listening to and was more focused on her sketch than anything else going on. She lowered the volume for a minute and said, “Hi! I’m Mina, one of the other tattoo artists here. I’m just working on sketches and keeping an eye on JK, so feel free to just pretend I’m not here.”

Jungkook perches on the edge of the desk and grabs a sketchpad and pencil from behind him. “So you said on the phone that you were fine with just being an open canvas, but I want to make sure you're completely happy with the tattoo you’re getting. I want to get to know you, your style, any interests that might change what kind of tattoo I sketch.”

“Um, well I have a pretty plain sense of style, my ex didn’t like when I wore flashy things. I love flowers a lot and I like art, not Picasso or anything like that, but I really love Starry Night and Van Gogh’s sunflowers,” you started to smile as you thought of all the beautiful things you adored, and took a shaky breath before you continued. “But I don't really care what I get, I just want to feel pretty again."

He tilts his head, “What do you mean, why would you think that you're not beautiful?”

You glance at the girl in the corner, nervous to show not one but two people your biggest insecurity. Your hands shook as you pulled the bottom of your skirt high enough over your thigh for him to see the scars he would have to cover. He didn’t say anything at first, just started sketching the paper in his hands. When he glanced up at you, you couldn’t see pity in his eyes, he was more focused on his sketch than any imperfections you felt.

“Miss, I don’t want this to come off the wrong way, but I think you’re really pretty just the way you are,” he glances up from his work and gives you another sweet bunny smile. “But I know that sometimes it takes a little bit of change before you can see yourself that way. So, I’m gonna work really hard and draw something new just for you, and maybe when it’s done you could see yourself the way I do.”

Jungkook had a more appointments that day, but finished those sketches in only a few minutes. Meanwhile now matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t find something that covered your scars and looked as beautiful as he wanted to make you feel. He rushed to the cafe as soon as his shift was over, wanting to go upstairs and get help from Taehyung on this design.

The little bell on the door jingles as he stumbled through, slamming into Namjoon and almost sending them both to the floor. Namjoon drops his mug on his way down, leaving bits of broken glass all around the coffee spilled. The two men burst out in laughter, drawing the attention of the entire cafe and an irritated Jimin.

He huffs and makes his way over to where the broken mug lays, shaking his head at the mess. “Joonie, I thought you said you were going to start looking at where you were going. You can’t keep breaking all of my coffee mugs.”

“But… but,” Namjoon stammers, “But it wasn’t me this time. JK was the one not paying attention.”

“Sorry,” Jungkook mutters. “I was just in a rush because I need Tae’s help with a design for Y/N, this really pretty girl that came in the shop today.”

Namjoon’s head jerks up at this, “Y/N, like my neighbor?”

Jimin smiles and runs a hand through his hair, “I think I’ve seen her in here before, she’s cute, but not as cute as our little kookie,” he says reaching out to pinch the youngest’s cheek. Jungkook blushes at his remark, and Jimin begins to tease him even more, “I think someone has a crush. You don’t like her more than me, do you?”

“No, I just think she’s nice,” JK says in a pouty voice, “I just wanted to make her happy, but that doesn’t mean I like her more.”

“Jimin that’s enough teasing,” Namjoon laughs at the two of them carrying on. “Especially when you and Hoseok were sitting in here saying the same thing yesterday, and trying to hit on her.”

“Shhh,” he giggles, “he doesn’t need to know that. Also you were doing the same thing, and you’re always in that apartment next to her. I swear you only go there to avoid us while you flirt with your hot neighbor.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, “No, I go there because I can never get any work done with all of you at home. Besides, us sitting here arguing about who’s flirting with her the most isn’t going to help JK. Tae’s at the flower shop filling in for Hobi today, he can probably help you design something.”

You were admiring a display of roses when the door to the flower shop was flung open once again. The shop was pretty popular, but you expected it to be a little busy, but today there were more people than usual and they all seemed to have some urgent problem. However, you didn’t mind waiting around for the owner to finish up with everyone else coming in, it gave you more time to look at the new layout of the store.

What you didn’t expect was running into your tattoo artist… literally. He was the one to throw the door open and run toward the owner, knocking you to the floor. “Are you sorry?” He yelled, springing up from the floor.

“What? Why would I be sorry, you ran into me?” You asked, wondering how this guy could go from being sweet to rude in a matter of seconds. He was probably only being nice earlier because you were paying him then.

He started nervously pulling at his hair and looked at you in shock, “No. No, I didn’t mean… I- I was trying to ask if you were okay and then I thought I should say sorry. It’s just that girls make me really nervous and I don’t really know what to say so everything gets mixed up.”

The owner began chuckling at the spectacle his friend was making. His shoulders shook as he tried to stop laughing long enough to ask Jungkook what he needed. Jungkook just backed away from you sheepishly and pulled Yoongi to the back room with him. You could hear them muttering back and forth, but before you could see what was going on the other owner came out to run the shop.

Unlike the first owner, Hoseok was far from reserved and the two of you chatted as he picked the flowers from Yoongi’s list for you. The arrangement he made was beautiful, but it was also a much freer style than the ones Yoongi created. He smiled and waved as you left the shop yelling, “Bye bye little blossom, you’ll be back soon!”

“Goodbye sunshine, see you next week!” You said, spinning around to shout as you left the store.

You couldn’t stop smiling when you got home, there was something perfect about the warmth from your hot chocolate and the way the flowers were filling up the room. There was excitement all around you as you began to write down your plans for the next few weeks. Even though you were all by yourself in the apartment, you didn’t feel alone anymore. You were looking forward to going out again, buying flowers and baked goods for yourself, and even getting the tattoo you’ve always wanted.

JK wanted to be sure that everything was perfect with the design for you. The guys had never seen him so focused on anything before, but after long nights of sketching and reworking the designs, he finally got Yoongi and Tae to help him create not one but two options that were perfect. He couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when you saw them. When the day finally came for you to come back in, he was a nervous wreck and kept checking the clock all morning.

You were a little early for your appointment again, but you didn’t have to wait like last time. As soon as you walked in, Mina walked you back to the office where Jungkook was trying to hang up two colorful sketches on a display board. On the left was a bridge and cityscape that looked like a Van Gogh, and the other had groups of flowers from your favorite bouquets.

“Both of these are for you. I wanted you to have a choice on what goes on your body. The left one is the Pont des Arts in Paris drawn like Starry Night. And the other is a cascade of flowers, it starts with birds of paradise, then a rose, a tiger lily, and finally yellow violets. It’s a bit bigger than the scaring, but it overlaps in a way that uses the scars to add definition to the petals.”

Your hand traced the design and you couldn’t believe how much attention to detail went into each line. You could see the tattoo itself, but you could also see lines that moved in the same spots as the scars. “It’s perfect,” you whispered in awe. “I want both.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Both?”

“If it’s possible, could we do the flowers on my thigh, and use the other sketch somewhere else? It’s so beautiful and I don’t want all of this work going to waste.”

He went to the computer and started tapping his forehead as he messed with something on the screen, “What if we take the bridge piece, make it a little smaller and use it as an arm piece on the other side. We can start on the thigh piece today, and do the other one in between sessions for that. Then I’ll have enough time to adjust the sketch and you can get both around the same time.”

Weeks went by, the arm piece was finished first and you were in awe of how well it turned out. You kept wearing short sleeves and showing it off every chance you got, but you still hadn’t felt comfortable enough to wear shorts that showed your thigh yet. The scars were almost all covered at this point, but there were still a couple spots to be filled in at your last appointment.

By this point you and Jungkook had settled into a routine, he got used to you being early each time and would let you sit in his office talking as he finished up with other clients. The two of you would put on music and then you would get settled in the chair while he got the machine set up. The first time was a bit of a shock when the needle touched your skin, but by now the hum of the machine was a comfort and the feeling had dulled.

The end of the appointment felt too soon, when he brought you to the large mirror to get a final look you couldn't bring yourself to open your eyes. Tears started running down your face as you tried to turn away from Jungkook and the mirror. Your hands felt warm as he wrapped them in his, “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“What if I look in the mirror and I still see them? What am I going to do if I look and I still don’t like what I see?”

“You were perfect even when your scars were visible. That and there’s no way to know if something is better if you don’t look. You were so confident after seeing your arm piece, and I promise you’re going to like this one even more. If you want, I can close my eyes and we can count to three and look together.”

You nod your head and feel him shift the two of you towards the mirror as you start counting, “One… two… three…” The piece before you was even better than he had described, you had seen the sketch and the progress each time you visited but it was different this time.

He looked at you with that little bunny smile you had grown to love and said, "I wanted this to be what I saw when you first walked in the shop. The flowers all have meaning to them, I asked Yoongi hyung to help me pick which ones to use. The top one is for freedom or joy, and the others all mean love in one way or another. I thought that maybe they would help you feel that way about yourself."

You smiled and pulled him close, "I love it, thank you."

He mumbled something and looked to the side. You reached up and placed your hand on his cheek, guiding him to meet your eyes. He clears his throat and repeats himself barely loud enough for you to hear, "Y/N, will you please go on a date with me?"

#bts fic #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts ff

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whats-the-story-tc · 5 years ago

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26th-28th of April, 2020

"The Ones with the Series of Unfortunate Events"

[LONG AS FUCK SORRY]

After what happened on Saturday, I could barely fall asleep at night. I had a splitting headache from all the crying and genuinely felt like shit. Morning came, and I immediately reached for my phone. Nothing from her. It still being quite early, I tried to go back to sleep, and spent a full hour tossing and turning, a head full of thoughts, until I couldn't take it anymore. I turned my phone on and checked the notification bar, only to see a very familiar name and face.

I submitted my essay to her already, way before it was due, so when she actually assigned it in Google Classroom, I just pressed 'Mark as done' and thought I was good to go. V has obviously seen it (two links here). And, even though I didn't submit jackshit this time, she still felt the need to send me a "Thank you :)". I was overjoyed. FINALLY. So, as I explained here already, I had an impulse thought and decided to respond. "And thank YOU for the "task". I had a lot of fun with it. (I mean, the [poet's name] one.) If you're ever curious about anything of this sort, don't keep it to yourself :)" Of course, I regretted it as soon as I sent it. And, of course, I knew I wouldn't get an answer.

I promptly took a full day of rest after that, like I was trying to recover from a bad break-up. I didn't expect to hear from her again the next day.

Monday morning. New notification. Same old love of my life. She assigned us a project we'd already spoken about last week — to reinterpret a monologue from the play I read, the one V really likes, in any shape or form. Painting, video, prose, or, to quote V: "tiktok (not that I know how that works, but it's your choice)". She also said that she wants to keep what we make, maybe even share them with our Geo/Art teacher. I got even mote excited than when she first announced this. I knew I wanted to draw something, to show her a side of me she'd never seen before. I'm starting it on Friday. Doing a bit of painting, too. Wish me luck.

At around 2 PM that same day, Pocketwatch Friend noticed V's reply to her essay and asked me how she should respond to her. Found it quite funny, not gonna lie, knowing my history with replies. And as my friends told me about the responses they got, I realised a fundamental difference. All of them were skimmed over going into detail. They noted them fine, but didn't take the time to explain why they were noteworthy. So basically, they lacked content. Meanwhile the only things she spent paragraphs pointing out about my essay were miniscule stylistic mistakes. This gave me a fair bit of reassurance about what I do. I did enough. I was enough.

Come Tuesday, I was a nervous wreck to say the least. I always am, when it comes to online classes, but especially so when I have class with V. I walked up-and-down in the room, listening to her talk, not daring to say a word. God, I wish I kept to that.

Before I get to the part where y'all laugh at my misery, a teensy bit of prelude. Here I mentioned that the first time I had spoken to V after class, the 11th of October, 2018, we spoke about Hamlet. In short, I was a bit oblivious, and didn't really know how to recognise the Oedipus complex I've seen associated with the play. We were covering the story of Oedipus anyway, so I trotted up to her after class to talk. I remember the afternoon Sun shining really bright that day, and V being very relaxed and fully in her element as she spoke, leaning against my desk (that I wasn't sitting at by then). I went home smiling, unable to get her out of my head after that. It should've been clear from that day.

Now, on to class. There were a lot of good bits, a lot of interesting bits... but I don't want to talk about those now.

Last ten minutes, V asks if there are any questions. "I might just have one." I said, and immediately regretted it, even though I could hear the smile in V's voice as she said "Off you go". Theatre/Literature buffs, I'm sure you'll know the line "Frailty, thy name is woman!" from, you guessed it, Hamlet. Now, in the poem we were talking about, there was a line with the exact same structure, only with different words in the place of frailty and woman. I tried to twist it and see if V made that same association, but luck didn't favour me that day. V had no last clue what I meant when I said the quote was familiar. I tried to explain it to the best of my abilities, though I didn't remember the exact Hamlet quote. Neither did V. "I don't really know Hamlet by heart." "Neither do I!" I tried to counter, but just made it more awkward. Bless her soul, V googled it there and then, but just by me saying it was said to Gertrude, it brought up another play with another Gertrude — coincidentally, the one V stroke up a conversation about with me on the very last day of actual school. Those being the results made V laugh, so at least that's a win from my part. I ended up looking it up myself, trying to remember the quote, and ended up answering my own damn question. "So it was the grammatical structure, then?" V asked, with that very same peace in her voice as last year, and I excitedly replied "Yes!". Conversation over. And even though she genuinely sounded interested, I hated myself for bringing up a totally unnecessary thing. Though I hope that I made V "pull [Hamlet] off the top shelf" after class, as she said she might, were it not for me finding the answer.

I was already feeling horrible. Then, V brought up the assignments mentioned earlier and sounded really excited about it, starting to list what she imagined us doing. "A rewrite of the scene in the play..." and as she was saying my name, I grinned and asked her "Was this an indirect reference?". I needed no further convincing that she, indeed, read what I texted her. But here comes the part I laugh at now, but right then it was horrible. She actually chuckled at my teasing question, and God I wish I remembered what she said. Then I said: "I was actually planning on something else, but..." because I found it an interesting idea, and I have been meaning to do that, too. And that's where it got awkward. V, the usually unfaltering and confident V, was startled. Proper startled that she might have accidentally changed my mind. She started saying "oh, no, I didn't mean it like that, I was just trying to predict things..." and that made me worried, so after the oh no, I immediately started rambling "no, no, of course, I know what you meant, I understand". So there we were, talking over each other, both of us a nervous mess that we may have said something wrong we didn't mean. Right now, I find it absolutely hilarious, because how on Earth did we manage that?? But there and then?

I started crying. Silently, of course, not to worry her even further. (I didn't want to turn my mic off because I was scared it would malfunction again.) But I was so tense, that all my gasoline pool of nerves needed was this little spark of awkward, and it caught flame. I stood there, tears streaming down my cheeks, blaming myself for speaking and thinking I should've just shut up.

Soon after, V told us not to stress about the assignment, because "it's just homework". Everybody's favourite Cynical Twat, who is even worse at social situations than I am, tried to express he was glad to hear that, but did so in a very confusing and sarcastic way that V didn't really understand. "It would be pretty shitty of me" to make us stress, she said. So I dried my tears and jumped in, because she deserved to hear the compliment. "I don't mean to speak for [Cynical Twat], but I think he meant that we're all glad you said that. Not many people do it like that." I told her something along the lines of that. "Oh, okay." she said, disbelief thick in her voice. Hey, V. We bloody love you. It's time you start believing it.

Class ended soon after, and I spent about twenty minutes sobbing and cursing myself. The message from Pocketwatch Friend saying "I can't believe [V] replies to everything" as they were talking about her essay, only made it worse.

That night, I had a conversation with one of my underclassmen I talk to every once in a blue moon. We were discussing school and teachers, and I intentionally didn't bring up V. I waited for her to. Though, okay, I did provoke it a teensy bit, but just slightly. So, we talk about her, and through the things the girl says, I find out that... heh, of course, I'm not the only one she strikes up convos with. Turns out, after a joke, V even winked at her! (Okay, she did that to me once, too, when I stood up for her in class, but that's not the point.) After that, I was carrying the convo on just fine, but inwards, I was spiralling into a great big void of 'You ain't special to her, bitch, the fuck were you thinking'. The girl ended the conversation with "the woman's weird (...) but that's how we love her". Right. Yeah.

Now, two days later at current, I'm back in the room where all the crying went down. Bit surreal, thinking back. I'm sure I won't forget this for quite a while. Will my unlucky strike stop anytime soon? I don't know. We'll see. But I don't think anything could surprise me anymore.

You may take that as a challenge, V.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

#tc #tcc #teacher crush community #female tc #female teacher crush

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shireness-says · 6 years ago

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Playing the Part ch. 7: What is this Feeling?

Summary: As a stage manager who's clawed her way up from bottom, Emma Swan can handle just about anything thrown her way. But does that include handsome lead actor Killian Jones? A CS Broadway AU. Rated T. Also on AO3. Prologue Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6

A/N: Even more feelings this chapter - starting to seem like a pattern with me, isn’t it? Chapter title taken from Wicked, purely for the feelings reference. You’re welcome.

Thanks once again go to @snidgetsafan, my brilliant beta. Sorry I’m a mess who can’t remember to edit her own chapter, love ya bunches.

Tags: @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, @thejollyroger-writer, @mythologicalmango, @onceuponaprincessworld, @idristardis, @teamhook, @courtorderedcake, @aerica13, @revanmeetra87, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes. If you want to be tagged going forward (or taken off this list - I won’t be insulted!), shoot me a message, and I’ll make it happen.

Enjoy!

He tries to keep Liam’s words in mind; he really does. But while his brother’s encouragements carry Killian through the rest of rehearsals, they’re harder to remember in the minutes before the first preview performance when there’s a crowd full of eager theater-goers filing in, excited and expecting something marvelous.

Killian should feel confident; he knows his lines inside and out, backwards and forwards, and lord knows they’ve run the show start to finish enough times in rehearsal for there to be no concerns about choreography or scene changes anymore. He doesn’t feel confident, however. In fact, if he were forced to name it, he’d say this feeling is somewhat closer to panic - pulse beating frantically, stomach churning like a storm-tossed sea, and a rising conviction that everything is about to go wrong.

Maybe under other circumstances, he’d go find a quiet corner to release his anxiety in - screaming pointlessly seems like a fantastic outlet right about now - but they really, really don’t have time for that at the moment. There’s only 25 minutes until curtain, people are starting to fill the seats, and cast and crew are still scrambling everywhere to complete last-minute prep. Even if Killian were able to find an empty corner to scream into, there’s no way he wouldn’t be heard.

Since that’s not an option, Killian’s just doing his best to keep himself distracted. Luckily - or not, depending on whose shoes you’re standing in - Belle is just as much of a nervous wreck, and Killian is able to divert his attention to comforting her. Not that he’s alone in that effort; Will Scarlet no doubt has other things he should be doing, but is doing his best to buoy Belle’s spirits instead.

“God, I feel sick,” she moans, cradling her head as best she can without messing up her wig or makeup. “Why do I want to do this again?”

“Because you’re a bloody brilliant actress, love,” Will attempts to reassure, though the attempt falls a little flat.

“It doesn’t feel like it at the moment,” she admits. “God, what if this falls apart like last time? I don’t think I can bear it if that happens.”

“Yes, well last time was largely due to the meddling of other people,” Killian reminds her. “His twisted mind has no bearing on your talent, Belle. You’re a natural for this role. Don’t let him do more damage than he already did last time by letting him get in your head.” It’s in moments like these that Killian can see exactly the damage Belle’s ex did to her, undermining her self-confidence and leaving her convinced that disaster is lurking behind every stroke of apparent luck. It sets a small flame of fury burning in his heart, one that keeps chanting that his friend deserves more. It’s as good a reason as any to set aside his own nerves - the need to perform his best not just for himself, but for Belle so that she can piece her career back together.

“He’s right, lass,” Scarlet chimes in, slinging an affectionate arm around her shoulders to draw Belle closer into a comforting embrace. “No sense letting your thoughts dwell on a bitter old bastard. He’s not worth it; you’ve got too much talent for him to touch.”

Belle offers a relieved smile at their words, and Killian can feel the tension marginally lift from the atmosphere. They fit together, he thinks, Belle and Will, like two oddly shaped puzzle pieces that shouldn’t connect but do all the same. Scarlet is all rough edges where Belle is the picture of grace, but their oversized hearts seem to still beat in time - if they’re ever willing to admit it. Killian hopes they will soon; as amusing as this flirtation is, there’s too much chemistry and potential for them not to eventually act on it, hopefully before everyone is awash in their cast-off pheromones. Belle would give Will some needed focus, and Will would in turn grant her more levity while giving her the support she’s so sorely lacked in her past. That might be the real proof of a compatible relationship, Killian thinks; two pieces that complement each other rather than match exactly.

“Now what do you say you help me make the final checks?” he asks her. “Make sure all the glow tape is bright enough for you to find in the dark?”

Belle even manages to chuckle a little, surprising them all. “Alright,” she replies, “I suppose that’s as a good a distraction as any.”

Killian could use the distraction himself, but he senses now is his cue to leave. Though this may have started as a communal attempt to buck Belle up, things seem to be veering towards a more private moment, and he’s willing to let the lovebirds have their space. Approvingly, he watches Scarlet leap to his feet to offer Belle his hand up from their seated positions before quietly slipping away. It’s not his moment to share anymore, and he may as well check in with David anyways.

As Killian begins the somewhat meandering path towards the dressing rooms, his thoughts turn to Emma, as they so often do when left to their own devices. Despite being in the same building, he’s hardly seen her all day, Emma nothing more than a blonde, black-clad blur as she runs around making last minute preparations. Is she as nervous as he is? Emma always seems like a beacon of calm collectedness, but Killian wonders if it’s all a front. Somehow, it’s comforting to think that she might be just as anxious about this performance as he is.

Whatever the case, as the saying says, the show must go on. Before Killian emerges into the well-lit hallway of the dressing rooms, he takes the chance to breathe deeply to try and shake out some of the jitters. It doubtless won’t work as well as he needs, but Liam had a point, back when he visited - actors feed off each other’s energy, and they really don’t need a theater full of fretful, neurotic performers right now. Fake it ‘til you make it, or so the saying goes.

So after a final pause to collect himself, Killian steps out into the hallway to find David and deliver what feels like the performance of a lifetime.

———

Emma’s mind feels like an ever-expanding, frantic to-do list of items both personal and professional. Honestly, she should probably turn off the former; lord knows she’s got enough to worry about with the show alone. But Neal’s been on her about Thanksgiving ever since Henry declared his intention to stay in town for the parade, despite previous agreements that he’d spend the holiday with Neal and his family. When the show first started gathering buzz, the cast had been asked to perform on the parade broadcast, and Henry is ecstatic at the prospect of actually getting good seats to watch it. They’d tried going once, years ago, but the crowds had been thick despite the cold temperatures, and their view had been somewhat obstructed. Emma doesn’t blame Henry for wanting to stick around to see the parade in person instead of on TV - she’d do the same, and Henry’s own declarations on the subject make it impossible for his dad to really argue about how Emma’s keeping him from his son.

(It also has the added bonus of Emma getting her kid on the holiday, which she’s not celebrating internally. Not at all.)

But with less than a week left before the holiday and three days before Henry’s birthday, Neal is on her to give him a weekend Henry can come up on the train for a “real family holiday”. His words. As if the dinners Emma and Henry have been attending for years on Thanksgiving with Ruby and Granny and whatever other stragglers they manage to attract don’t count. Asshole.

That’s a later problem, though, because honestly, Emma’s got more than enough on her plate right now. There’s last minute checks of the cameras streaming to backstage and reassuring Arthur that yes, his name has been spelled correctly in the program (Arthur King, for God’s sake, it’s not even hard to spell), and of course this is the moment that the headsets develop a weird static background noise, which Kristoff really needs to fix before the curtain goes up. It’s chaos, in short. Emma can only hope that she looks on the outside like she’s in control because on the inside, she’s panicking a little at the thought of all that needs doing. They’re ready; consciously, she knows this. But it’s hard to remember that when people are filling into the velvet-covered seats for the first time and the only thoughts left in Emma’s head are about all the things that could possibly go wrong.

When the lights go down, though, all those thoughts disintegrate. As backwards as it sounds, the actual show has always been the easy part for Emma. No matter what happens onstage, what’s done is done. If something goes wrong, all she can do is react and try to mitigate any fallout. There’s an odd comfort to that, the sheer transience of this art form. All Emma can do from her perch is call the cues, and leave it to her assistant stage managers to put out fires as necessary.

Thankfully, there’s been none of that tonight. On the crew side of things, the scene changes are running as smooth as butter. Emma’s trained her crew well; she’ll have to buy them all drinks after opening night if this keeps up.

The same can’t quite be said of the cast, however. There’s always nerves associated with the first few performances; Emma’s always thought it’s part of the reason for previews. Killian is visibly tense, however, at least to Emma. He’s been such an outstanding actor during rehearsals that Emma had kind of forgotten exactly how inexperienced he is. He’d essentially been plucked out of chorus and supporting roles and shoved straight into a leading part, this role undeniably his largest to date. It makes sense that he’d be feeling the pressure of that. Even if Emma can spot his nerves from her perch in the booth, she’s not too concerned about the audience picking up on that same discomfort; if they do, they’ll likely write it off as a Darcy mannerism. The character is supposed to be socially awkward, famously so. It’ll work.

Emma only hopes his nerves won’t manifest in a more visibly obvious way.

———

Killian hadn’t held much hope that getting on stage would help his nerves, and on that front, he’s not disappointed. If he looks half as uncomfortable onstage as he feels, he must be quite the sight. Knowing that Darcy is supposed to look a little out of place is little consolation. The whole while, he can’t help but feel like a fraud, like someone they just plucked off the street, stuffed him into these fancy clothes, and shoved onto the stage. The weeks and months of preparation don’t matter, the conscious knowledge that he’s prepared for this doesn’t matter; suddenly, the crushing weight of his inexperience smashes him right in the face. And it’s terrifying.

He’s making it through, for the most part, reassuring himself the whole while that this will get easier the more he does it. It helps that the first act is much less demanding than the second, with the letter, Pemberley, and all the rest of it occurring after the intermission.

But then, when they hit the Netherfield parlor scene, the worst case scenario happens.

He’s supposed to banter back and forth with Belle about what makes a lady ‘accomplished’, but as soon as he opens his mouth, the words are gone. Missing in action. Not to be retrieved by the means of mortals. He’s practiced these words over and over, rehearsed them on this very stage, practiced them with Henry in his dressing room, but that doesn’t matter. He’s forgotten every single one of them, right here in front of an honest-to-god audience.

Shit.

Killian isn’t really sure how he gets himself out of that mess; he doesn’t have a conscious memory of it. He manages to force out some words, he knows, but he couldn’t tell you what they were. Doubtless the wrong ones. The only thing he’s certain of is that Belle and Regina must have saved his arse back there; he’ll have to send them flowers after he’s inevitably fired for absolute incompetency.

That’s the obvious outcome, he concludes, waiting backstage before his next entrance. Clearly, he can’t handle the barest expectations of his job; the obvious answer is firing. It’s been a nice three months and a performance, now he’ll go live out the rest of his career in shame and obscurity. Maybe find a nice job where he doesn’t ever have to speak in front of people again. Yeah. That sounds nice - not to mention, more appropriate for his obvious lack of public speaking skills.

Somehow, he manages to make it through the rest of the first act without any further snafus - he suspects by sheer fear alone. Even though the applause is suitably loud, he can’t help but feel that it’s not intended for him, and is instead in appreciation of his scene partners or the supporting players. It’s with a heavy heart that he all but slinks offstage during intermission with the full intention to go have a breakdown in the nearest uncluttered corner.

———

Ok, Killian’s little onstage brain fart wasn’t exactly the most convenient thing on Earth. But at the same time, Belle and Regina covered it like the pros they were, and the audience doesn’t seem to have cared. Really, Emma doubts that anyone outside of the production even noticed his goof. Of course, based on her experience with Killian, she also doubts that he knows that, or that it will keep him from beating himself up over it.

Sure enough, they’re barely a minute into intermission - by all accounts, when Emma should get a little break while the rest of the crew sets the stage for the second act - before Mulan calls her over the headset.

“Hey Boss?” she starts, weirdly hesitant. “Jones is off sulking in a corner. He’s not in the way or anything, just… what do you want us to do about him?”

Emma sighs heavily, though she somehow manages to repress the eye roll that’s almost an automatic response by this point in her life. “I’ll be down in a sec to… I don’t know, give him a pep talk or something. Where’s he camped out?”

“In that weird unusable corner backstage left.”

“Ok thanks. Just hold on a moment, and I’ll be right there.”

“Sure thing, Emma.”

She tells herself as she makes her way down the back stairs that it’s all in service of the production, but it’s more personal than that. Killian is her… something. Not paramour or suitor, obviously, but… friend? Maybe? Whatever label he wears, he’s special, and that makes it Emma’s particular duty to build him back up during what is undoubtedly an episode of self-doubt for him.

Sure enough, he’s right where Mulan said he would be, sitting in what looks to be an uncomfortable position on the low brick ledge at the foot of the wall, head cradled in his hands. Frankly, he makes quite the pathetic picture.

“What’s up with you?” she asks bluntly, causing Killian to jerk his head up in wide-eyed surprise, before deflating just as quickly.

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” he apologizes miserably. “I know I’ve gone and messed the whole thing up. Whatever reprimand you’re about to deliver, I completely understand.”

Emma snorts in response to that self-flagellation. It’s apparent that he’s deep into the self-loathing portion of his evening. “Ok, well, you clearly don’t, because this isn’t that big a deal.”

Killian scoffs, clearly skeptical, though in his costume it has more the effect of a kid throwing a fit on Halloween. “Don’t patronize me, Swan,” he warns.

“I’m not!” she insists. “What do you think previews are for?”

“Publicity,” he states with utter certainty, looking at Emma like she’s the one who’s lost her mind.

“Ok, yeah, eventually,” she concedes, “but honestly, they’re mostly about working out the kinks. And your little… incident today is just another kink to iron out.”

“I think that’s selling it short, Swan.”

“I swear, Killian, it’s not. This happens. The beauty of live theater is that what’s done is done - there’s no sense dwelling on it. And honestly, the audience didn’t even notice.”

“You noticed,” he points out obstinately.

“Yeah, but I’ve read the script, like, twenty thousand times. I have started literally running this show in my sleep. I’m supposed to know when you mess up,” she replies. “Look, that’s not the point. The point is, no one out there cares,” Emma emphasizes, sweeping a hand in the general direction of the house. “A lot of shows take previews as a chance to see what does and doesn’t work in the script, and then change the lines before opening night. Some people literally come to the previews so they can see what changed. If anyone comes back later and notices, they’ll just think it was a script change.”

“Really?” Killian asks, looking up with wide eyes in a manner that’s almost childlike, reminding Emma a little of Henry when he was little and just beginning to discover all the wonderful facts the world had to offer.

“Really. They’ll think it’s a cool Easter egg, or whatever the kids call it. Now if you’re ready to stop moping around, we’ve got a show to finish. Liam wouldn’t want you to be sulking back here and fixating on things you can’t change.”

“That’s low, Swan, dragging a man’s brother into this,” he chides, but he’s standing up all the same with the hint of a smile on his face as he attempts to brush the dust off his rear (which Emma does not stare at, thank you very much).

“Yeah, well, I did what I had to,” she retorts before continuing in a softer tone. “You’ll be ok? No need to drag someone over to watch you?”

“I’ll be fine, Swan. Now go, you’ve got a show to run, and don’t have time for my nonsense in the least.”

“If you’re sure,” she says, already heading for the back stairs. He’s right; they’re due to start any minute. But she really does think he’ll be alright - can see it in the determined nod he makes to himself before setting off back towards his dressing room to change coats in record time. She hadn’t seen this side of Killian before, the intense self-doubt, but all her experience with his hardworking and easygoing nature suggests he’ll bounce back.

The show will go on, and Emma thinks she’s even managed to convince Killian of that too.

(She sure hopes so, at least - otherwise, they’re all screwed.)

———

He’s still not fully confident, walking back onstage for the second act, but he does feel slightly better. With Emma’s words in mind, he’s at least able to appreciate that the applause maybe is for him after all - though he’d have to be truly dense to believe the response after his solo was intended for anyone else. Under other circumstances, he might feel guilty that he forgot his brother’s words, or that he instead latched onto the reassurances of his crush, but desperate times had called for desperate measures, and words of wisdom are appreciated from any and every corner.

Killian’s not sure if it’s the change in attitude or just a change in perspective that causes it, but the second act really does feel like it goes better. With Emma’s reassurance that the audience has no idea when things go wrong ringing in his ears, paired with the freshly remembered promise Liam extracted from him to not get too stuck in his own head, Killian is able to reclaim some of the illusion that things are just like in rehearsals, without the pressure of a paying audience. It certainly can’t be called a perfect show, but he likes to think that he and Belle made for an engaging onstage couple and salvaged the mistakes from the first half.

The audience certainly seems to agree, if the curtain call applause is anything to go by. Belle, of course, receives the largest round of applause - deservedly so, if you ask Killian - but he receives his own share of whistles and cheers. The sound of their audience’s response fills Killian with a warm glow of pride in what he’s accomplished, even despite the rough start, and helps him remember why he started on this adventure in the first place.

After everyone’s taken their bows, the cast raises their arms towards the booth in the traditional thanks for the crew’s efforts. It a compulsory gesture, one countless productions have repeated day in and day out, but it’s entirely heartfelt on Killian’s behalf - especially after the reassurance Emma offered him at intermission. He’ll thank her later with his words, but for now, he stares towards the bright lights and the woman he knows is there, even if he can’t see her, and hopes she understands just how deep his thanks truly run.

———

Despite any proverbial rough seas, Emma’s pleased with how the first preview went. Yes, there’s still plenty that needs working on, but this whole thing is intended as a learning curve, and she has faith that by the time the show formally opens, they’ll have smoothed everything out to a seamless final product. She’ll make it happen.

In the meantime, there’s still plenty to do. The stage has already been reset, and the stagehands dismissed for the night (though Emma thinks she caught a glimpse of Will Scarlet hanging around a few minutes ago, likely he’s stuck around for reasons more personal than professional), but Emma likes to double check everything, just in case. Call it a personal habit, one leftover from her own stagehand days. Plus, she likes to take a quick breeze through the dressing rooms to make sure nothing important got left behind - or, god forbid, on the floor, where Ms. Blue will make that clicky noise about how no one is taking proper care of her costumes. Emma would like to avoid that outcome if at all possible - somehow that tiny woman is deceptively intimidating.

She thinks Kristoff might still be around here somewhere, messing with the mics and whatever else he does - some aspects of sound design and tech are still a real mystery to Emma - so she detours to Dorothy’s perch on stage right to grab her wireless headset before wandering back to the dressing rooms. Kristoff mostly managed to fix the static before curtain, but there was still an annoying little buzz the whole time. He probably already knows about it and it’s on his own personal to-do list, but Emma figures that bringing the devices to him wouldn’t hurt. A helping hand and a reminder all in one, if you will. It’s well within her authority anyways.

She never makes it to the podium, however, as Jones suddenly steps out from the hallway to the dressing rooms, dressed once again in his street clothes. As much as she’s ogled him in costume, Emma has to admit - he’s just as good-looking in a henley and plaid. It was just as true before she saw him in costume for the first time, but knowing how well those breeches display his ass just adds another level of appreciation for that same ass in jeans.

“Can I speak with you for a moment, Swan?” he requests.

“Yeah, of course,” she replies. “Is here fine, or…?” There’s no one around, but still, if he wants to have any sort of official, job-related private discussion, they should probably go find a room with a door and no chance of interruptions.

“Oh, yes, here’s just fine,” he smiles, as if he read her mind. “I just wanted to thank you, Swan, for earlier.”

“Oh, that isn’t necessary —” Emma begins, but Killian firmly interrupts her, hand raised in a halting motion.

“It is to me,” he insists. “You may not think you provided much of a service, but to me, your words were...indispensable. Just what I needed in that moment. You may not have noticed, Swan,” he chuckles, “but I was a bit of a mess back there.”

Despite his heavy words to start the sentence, his self-deprecating teasing at the end lends some needed levity to the exchange, allowing Emma to relax ever-so-slightly despite her continuing discomfort with being thanked.

“Yeah, maybe a little bit,” she laughs, causing a wide smile to break out on his face. God, it’s a nice smile. Goes great with those street clothes she was checking out a minute ago.

“Oi, thanks for that,” he teases. “I can say that, you can’t.” An attempt at a wink follows, making Emma laugh in turn. It’s hard not to - his idea of a wink is closer to a facial spasm, both eyes closing instead of one and eyebrows doing the work of mimicking a wink. “My point is, I needed a little kick in the pants. Thank you for doing so kindly and gracefully.”

Emma snorts. “‘Gracefully’? That seems a bit far.”

“Well I don’t know,” he defends. “You were fairly tactful about it. Or at least didn’t directly tell me to pull my head out of my arse. I’d call that a graceful approach.”

Honestly, it’s hard to take his defense seriously when he phrases it like that. The barely suppressed smile, still evident in the creases around his eyes, doesn’t help either. “Still, graceful?” she demands. “That’s, like the last word I’d associate with myself.”

“I don’t know, Swan, I certainly think you live up to your namesake,” Killian responds, far more earnestly than Emma would have expected. Is that really how he sees her? That’s… weird, but there’s something nice about that knowledge too. It’s comforting to know that at least one person who’s not her kid thinks so highly of her.

“Is there anything else you need?” she asks, quickly changing the subject. If Killian’s face falls a little bit at the end of their bantering - because God, that’s what it was, wasn’t it? - then Emma pretends not to notice. Or care.

“Er, no. That’ll do it. Again, thank you.” There’s a moment of empty silence before he nods resolutely. “Have a good evening, Swan.” And just like that, he’s gone again.

Emma’s struck with a small pang of guilt over his sudden departure. They were kind of having a moment, after all, before she abruptly cut it short. But it’s for the best, isn’t it? Keep the professional boundaries, and not get too close?

No, the thing to remember about today is not two emotionally vulnerable conversations with Killian, but how well the show went, and how much the audience liked it. That’s it. End of story.

(Even if those blue eyes are wide enough to get lost in, and his ass really does look great in a variety of pants.)

#cs ff #my writing #Playing the Part #What is this Feeling?#Broadway AU #stage manager!Emma #actor!Killian #and a little bit of panic

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azuleif · 6 years ago

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11 Questions!

I was tagged by @gardenoftulip, @nessajjewell and @rueitae to answer some questions. Thank you all, you made me feel special! 💚💙

Rules:

1.always post the rules

2. Answer the questions given by the person who tagged you

3. Write 11 questions of your own

4. Tag 11 people you want to get to know better

Sorry this got a bit long!

Questions from @gardenoftulip

1. Name 3 things in nature you find the most beautiful? The sky, stars and animals.

2. What's the funniest way you've been injured? I'm clumsy. I could fill an entire post with stupid and funny ways I've gotten hurt! The most recent though, was probably trying to walk across a clear living room floor with a dead leg. I tripped over literally nothing and managed to sprain pretty much everything possible in my ankle! I spent 12 weeks in a walking cast...

3. If you could ask your pet 3 questions, what would they be? Can you please exist? 😂 I don't have a pet, sadly. I would LOVE a cat though.

4. What are your pet peeves? Hmm, tough one. Maybe when people interrupt me for no reason when I'm watching or listening to something. Especially if I have headphones in. Can't you see I'm busy??? I'm 100% the kind of person that aggressively pauses my show until they're done.

5. What's the first thing you ate today? Toast! With marmite on.

6. What makes you laugh? A lot. It's not hard. But puns and bad jokes are especially a huge weakness of mine.

7. Do you have a hidden talent? If so, what? If I do, it must be really well hidden...

8. What's your zodiac sign? Does it fit your personality? I'll be honest, I have no idea about zodiac stuff. It's not something that interests me So I'm afraid I can't answer.

9. What is your favourite holiday? Any holiday that means I can stay home and not interact.... 😂

10. If you have one, who is your celebrity crush? Yoo Kihyun, the main vocalist from the Kpop group Monsta x. I think Jeremy Shada might be getting there too...

11. If you could be a genius at something, what would it be? Anything? Please? Okay seriously though, I'd have to say music. I love music, but I just don't have the skill for it myself.

Questions from @nessajjewell

1. What is your favourite food? My favourite food changes a lot. I guess the only consistent thing is fresh seasonal fruit?

2. place you've always wanted to go? A tour of Asia would be cool. Or France.

3. Favourite show? J-just one??! Voltron Legendary defender has to be my all time favourite, at the moment at least. But I also love shows like Scorpion, marvel's Gifted, miraculous ladybug, full metal alchemist and Teen titans.

4. Single or nah? Single!

5. Video game you last played? Monster Hunter.

6. Can you do a weird talent? Not that I can think of. What would even class as weird?

7. Tennis shoes or sneakers? Uh oh. I uh... what's the difference??

8. Soda or pop? As in fizzy drinks? I don't tend to drink any.

9. Favourite drink? Coffee! I live off the stuff!

10. What is your favourite hobby? Gaming. As much as I love drawing, it does sometimes get stressful, especially if it isn't working out how I want it too. Gaming is my stress relief and always fun~

11. Is there a store you go to frequently? I'm very introverted, and shops are sooooo stressful for me. I do all shopping online if I can! But I make exceptions for certain comic book, game and merch shops.

And finally, questions from @rueitae

1. Movies that had a great impact on you as a child - you know the ones you vividly remember watching as a kid? There are so many! Eldorado, Sinbad, Osmosis Jones and all the pokémon films really come to mind though.

2. What is your occupation? Or what do you want to do as a career? Tell me about it! My actual job is pretty boring, so I'll talk about my dream job instead! I've always wanted to be in game design. I love designing characters, and I would LOVE to be on a team that creates concept art for games.

3. Spinning rides or up and down rides? I get motion sickness really easily... But having said that, I love spinning rides for as long as I can enjoy them without feeling ill.

4. What is the most neat place you've ever visited? Would you live there? I haven't really travelled much, even within my own country. But I've been to Newcastle a few times to visit family, and I do love it there. I don't think I'd live there though, I'm a country girl and I think the city would overwhelm me too much after the novelty wore off.

5. How did you find your current fandom? My uncle watched Voltron before I did, when it first came out. We're really close and have similar tastes so when he got excited about it, I was definetly interested! I kept putting it off though, and it wasn't until I kept seeing it on Tumblr through miraculous blogs I follow that I eventually watched it, only a month or two after my uncle did.

6. What's the hottest wing sauce you've ever eaten? I don't really know, sorry! But I do like spicy food.

7. What's the fic/art you've always wanted to write/draw but haven't gotten to for any reason. Oc? Original story? Tell me all about it! Oooh boy. I am ALWAYS coming up with story ideas. I have an entire universe of stories that I've wanted to write and draw since I was 13! I've got entire timelines and realities planned out, and even every single side character has concept art!

My favourite story of mine at the moment is probably Thieves Heart. It's so much fun to draw! And I love coming up with new ideas for it. I even love the designs I have for my main characters, Kyrad and Chiel, which is a rarity.

Kyrad is a thief because it's his family business.

Chiel is a thief because she loves the thrill of it all.

They keep crossing paths, and while Chiel adores the competition and might have a growing crush on her newfound rival, Kyrad isn't so keen. He'd much rather steal in peace.

He does have his eye on a cute but sassy civilian though, and has no idea she's actually the very same thief stealing all his hauls!

There's so much more I could say, amd although I really want to enthuse about all of my stories, its kind of nerve wracking and I also know that once I start, you literally can't shut me up. I get carried away easily...

I do keep toying with the idea of starting a webtoon, but my own lack of confidence holds me back I think.

8. Comfort food. if there is one snack/meal that is your go to- what is it? Maybe it's a drink? Any kind of hot food including rice, noodles or soup works for me. It could be my mum's chicken soup, it could be instant ramen. It depends a lot on my mood.

9. One person you really look up to as a role model. It's... really hard choosing just one person. I can't choose only one from my family, so I'll have to go for a friend of mine instead. She's a good 10 years older then me, but age doesn't matter. She's such a dear friend and I don't know what I'd do without her! She's helped me through so much. She has a lot of the same issues I have, and seeing how strong and amazing she is really inspires me. She's helped me with my anxiety in such a huge way, and if I could be a fraction of the person she is I'd be so happy. I want to help people like she's helped me through my problems. ❤

10. Favourite colour combination? Maybe pastel blue and silver?

11. What is your favourite outfit? That one clothing combination that makes you feel hip or comfortable or both. Just jeans and my Star Labs hoodie. My hoodie especially is my favourite piece of clothing and is so comfortable, it's baggy, it's soft and warm. I miss it every time it goes in the wash!

Again, thank you so much for this, it's been fun! I'm sorry it got so long.

I'd love to tag some people to answer some of my questions but not only have I spent a little too long on this already, but I'm a nervous wreck when it comes to tagging people So... oh well?

#tagged #about me #i got to gush about a story of mine a little bit!#thank you #11 questions

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thatwonderfulbubble · 6 years ago

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some venting?

I liked change.

The thrill of things shifting, turning different shapes and sizes, whole new paragraphs, exciting plot twists. Change is how you grow. Change is how you become. It never bothered me much, until now.

My life changed drastically at least 4 times in 3 years. A chronic illness, than moving to another country where people speak a language with too many letters, than moving back to my country but for a new city, the abandon of Law to become a pastry chef. It was all pretty wild, and pretty nerve-wrecking. I was suffering a lot at this point: from stress, fatigue, disappointment, unfulfillment, self-doubt. But it was okay, because I thought I could push forward. "You go on", I told myself, "you go and swallow it".

Then my (ex) girlfriend broke up with me. And the whole thing, the whole pain I was trying to push and push, came crushing on me.

I've realized I was depressed. I mean, truly depressed. Before this, the signs of it creeping under my skin, seeping into my pores, were clear and spreading. But the break up was, really, like punching a black hole into my chest. And it seemed to suck everything good in, every warm feeling, every colorful joke, anything that could resemble a spark.

It wasn't her fault. Of course it wasn't. But I felt like the only solid beautiful thing in my life was gone, and that I was left, abandoned and unworthy of love. It was pretty rough. It still is pretty rough, to suddenly find myself devoid of a sense of home, a sense of purpose and a sense of love. Always in another city, pursuing a dream that tasted like ash, and with a black hole shaped as Her in my chest. And so depression gave up seeping in: it invaded like a flood, carrying everything on its way.

I wanted the never ending changes to stop, stop, stop, and moved back to my mother's. I thought a sense of comfort and stability, of something I know, would make it all go away. All the pain, the tears, the cluttering of suffocating nothingness. But it didn't.

It didn't because change shifts, creates new hard shapes. But I hated my plot twists, my new paragraphs. I was in pain. I am in pain. But that is the thing about change: whether you choose it or it is bestowed upon you, it happens. And the only thing you can do is to either get used to it or to create new changes to deal with.

This weekend was my Birthday. And, even though it started bleak, with me not wanting to get up, not wanting to get phone calls, upset for having to spend it, for the first time in years, without the woman who I still, despite my wishes, adore, it became a day of my mom waking me up with an excited kiss and hug, of my niece drawing figures on my art at lunch, of finding myself led to a surprise party organized by my friends.

This was when I realized, despite my pain and my sorrow, there are people who have my back, who go out of their ways to make me feel loved, wanted, cared for. And, although my life is a mess, and there is a person-sized black hole in my heart, there are also people who fill it with their tender, larger than life presences.

We cannot stop change. But we can look forward to become something that one day might be just as beautiful as we were before.

#i am just very emotional today i guess #and sharing a lot #so there you have your regular disfuncional follower venting #depression #mental health #Diary

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josai · 8 years ago

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maybe i’ll burn a little brighter tonight, let the fire breathe me back to life

Hajime doesn’t know what to expect when he rings the bell at Tooru’s place.

It’s been just over a year and a half since he’s seen Tooru. Well, 541 days, if you ask Hajime. Not that he’s counting.

Since Hajime left, Tooru’s moved to a new place. It’s nice. Bigger than his old apartment, that’s for sure. He’s got four walls and a front yard now. He can finally grow that flower garden he always used to talk about it, late at night when they’d hide from the world together in Hajime’s bed. Before the addiction, before all of it, back when they were just Hajime and Tooru, and they didn’t have all of this baggage hanging off of them.

Hajime gets halfway up the walkway before he sees it, snug against the house, a few flowers already sprouting. Red, pink, yellow. Hajime doesn’t know the names of them, but they’re pretty, and they really suit Tooru’s personality. Hajime can just imagine how focused he must have been when planting them, paying attention to how closely they’re planted together and in which order, because he always used to say, the devil’s in the details, Iwa-chan!

It’s been an eternity since he’s heard him say those words.

He knows that if he hovers for too long he’s going to chicken out, so Hajime goes right for it. He steps up to this unfamiliar door, searches for the bell and rings it.

He calculates how much time he’d need to make a clean getaway - six seconds, maybe eight? Either way, it’s too long, because the door’s being thrown open before he’s ready for it.

And there’s Tooru.

Hajime’s heart is beating so fast he can feel it in his throat.

Again, finally , after so long, after so many nights lying awake thinking about all the things he wants to say to him, all of the things he needs him to know and understand, Tooru is here.

And Hajime hasn’t a damn clue what to say.

He knew this was going to be emotional. He knew that it wasn’t going to be easy, but he didn’t expect it to feel like this. Guilt. Shame. Fear. He’s a wreck, and shit - what were all those things that he wanted to say ? All he can think is I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-

Tooru looks the same as he used to, but also… different. He’s staring at Hajime, brown eyes wide, hand gripping the edge of the door tightly. He’s dressed for work, in a pair of black slacks and a white button-up. He looks like he has even less idea what to say than Hajime does, which is fair considering that he wasn’t expecting him.

Hajime shuffles on his feet. He takes a deep breath, and lets it out, forcing himself to look up and meet Tooru’s eye. He offers him a crooked smile, and his voice comes out quietly.

“Hi,” his voice cracks when he speaks, volume barely louder than a whisper, but Tooru hears it.

Tooru stumbles forward, and this time, Hajime is there to meet him. He falls into Hajime’s arms, and Hajime pulls him in, warm and close, and Tooru just melts against him like he was waiting for this. Tooru draws his arms around Hajime and squeezes him like his life depends on it.

Hajime inhales and presses his face into Tooru’s hair, swallowing back tears.

It all just comes pouring out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice quiet and uneven, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” He repeats it, over and over, until the words all bleed together, and all they can do is hold each other. Finally. Hajime caused so much pain, so much hurt - but Tooru still accepts him.

That gives him enough confidence to talk.

They stay pressed together for a while, before Hajime finally pulls back, and wipes his face with the sleeve of his jacket. Tooru’s still sniffling, but he looks up with Hajime with so much hope.

“Can I… come in?” He’s still hesitant. A little afraid, but Tooru nods. He smiles at him, and nods.

They sit down for tea, and Hajime talks. He has a lot to say. Talking isn’t easy, but Hajime has to do it, and he knows it. It’s one of the things he learned in therapy - be open and communicate his feelings clearly, no matter how difficult it might be.

He confirms what Tooru had spent all this time hoping - that he went to rehab. He’s been clean a year and three months now, after one relapse during his stay at rehab.

It was hard , but, he knew he had to do it. Stick to it. It was the only way he was ever going to get to live again.

“You relapsed?” Tooru asks, voice quiet, hardly audible. He’s sitting next to Hajime now, a hand on Hajime’s arm. Hajime nods.

“Yeah. Just once. Waking up in that hospital.. I knew if it ever happened again, I’d be dead. And I… I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t end like that.”

Rehab lead to a sober living home, where he spent another year of his life out in the country on a farm. Working, living, learning how to live his life again. Starting to build up his muscles again, weak from going so long without using them properly. He went to bed sore for months, but he could feel the difference. See it. He started getting energy back, started wanting to do things he once loved again. Therapy played a huge part in that, and it’s something that he still does, that he’ll probably still need for a while to come.

“But you’re back?” Oikawa swallows, “You’re.. living here again?”

Hajime nods. “Yeah… the program helped set me up with an apartment… and a small job… it’s not much, but it’s something to bring in some money, and routine to the day… and I need that.” He takes a deep breath, and offers Oikawa a smile, tears in his eyes. His voice is shaking when he speaks again. “I’ve got my life back on track… and I’m going to try my best… and work hard to keep it this way. This is something I’m going to have to work on for my entire life… but… I’m ready to move forward... “ He takes another breath, fighting back more tears. “I can’t ask you for anything, Tooru… but… if you could find it in yourself to forgive me… or- or if you wanted to move on… I would love to get to know you again… to maybe be friends again, someday…”

Tooru shifts, rubbing away fresh tears. He nods, smiling, soft and happy. “Yes… of course we can, silly… we can do this.” He laughs, soft and beautiful.

Relief floods Hajime’s senses, and he feels like he can finally breathe again. “I have a new phone now… maybe I can give you my number… and we can talk? I’ll call you… or text. We can grab some dinner, or see a movie… or just catch up… would that be okay?”

Tooru nods, beaming, and gets up to grab his cell phone from his bag. He comes back and they exchange phone numbers. Tooru types his name in with a bunch of emojis - it’s nice to see that some things haven’t changed, but he keeps Hajime’s phone, examining it.

“Iwa-chan, did you have to go into a time machine to get this phone?” He laughs, waving it in his hand. “I feel like I could drop it on the floor and it’d do more damage to the floor than the floor would do to it.” He snickers, tossing it back at Hajime, who chuckles.

“I thought about getting something new and nicer, but then it wouldn’t have a keyboard-”

“That’s the point! I’m honestly surprised that thing even has emojis.”

Hajime huffs out a laugh, shaking off some of the tension in his shoulders that he didn’t realize he was still carrying. He looks over at Tooru, with his bright, sassy smile; it’s a sight that Hajime remembers all too well, and it gives Hajime hope.

Hope for them.

They talk a little bit more, but it isn’t long before an alarm sounds on Tooru’s phone, and he curses under his breath. “I have to get going… I have work…” He bites his lip, standing up. Hajime follows suit, nodding. “But we’ll meet up again soon, okay?”

Hajime nods. He’s not going to miss this, the second chance he hardly dared dream he’d get. “Of course. Whatever you want to do, okay?”

Tooru smiles at him, and doesn’t hesitate to pull him into a hug. Hajime hugs him back, warm and tight and everything he’s been missing. The kind of hug that says more than words can, the kind of hug that holds a promise. Hope.

They pull away from each other, eyes teary, but full of smiles.

We can do this.

Hajime says his goodbyes, heading out to go and catch the next bus to go home. Halfway there he feels his phone vibrate; he pulls it out, only to see a text from Tooru.

Don’t wait too long to invite me out for dinner!

Hajime stops in his tracks, staring down at the text message. He breaks out in a smile, eyes tearing up again as he laughs. It’s unbelievable, almost.. He’s so happy and excited… His hands shake as he types out a reply.

It’s nerve wracking, it’s terrifying, but it’s time.

Hajime’s ready to live his life again.

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365daysofj2 · 8 years ago

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In A Heartbeat (NORAD!Boys, NC-17)

When the doorbell rings, Jared jumps out of his chair and tries to pretend he hasn’t been nearly jumping out of his skin with anticipation for hours now. He forces himself to stroll to the door instead of running like he wants to. When he opens the door, Jensen’s standing there with his little white fluffball in his arms, and fucking hell, he’s even prettier in person. Although Jared saw plenty of Jensen’s modeling photoshoots on Google Images, nothing could have prepared him for the vibrant green eyes, longer and prettier eyelashes than most women Jared knows, and those fucking obscene lips, pink and shining from the cold, and the slight pink flush on his freckle-dusted cheeks. He looks Iike a marble statue of divine perfection given flesh and blood. Jared can’t even speak; the entire English language has left his head except for the words, God, he’s pretty. Jensen’s smile falters. “Jared? Hi, I’m not late, am I?” Jared swallows hard. “No, uh—come in. Please.” He steps aside, feeling so awkward he wants to hide his face in his hands. Jensen puts Icarus down on the floor and he trots right up to Jared’s legs and starts sniffing him all over. Jared kneels down, awkwardness forgotten, and lets the teeny fluffball sniff his fingers. Then he gives him some chin scratches and pets, and Icarus snuggles right up to him as if they’re lifelong friends. “He likes you,” says Jensen. Jared looks up to see Jensen grinning just as wide as he is. “I knew he would. He’s got good taste.” Jared stands up and extends a hand. “So do you.” Jensen takes his hand and Jared pulls him in for a hug. Jensen doesn’t hesitate at all, simply folds himself into Jared’s arms like he belongs there. Jared just holds him for a long moment, relishing the feel of another person after so long a drought. He joined the military during the DADT years, and even though it’s been several years since it was discontinued, he still feels the old paranoia and instinct to run from guys who seem too friendly, even when they’re civilians. But Jensen? Jensen’s a different story. Jared finally lets go, even though he doesn’t really want to, and Jensen steps back. “So, are you hungry? I’ve got chicken and dumplings in the slow cooker, and I was planning to bake some crescent rolls once you got here.” Jensen’s eyes brighten. “That sounds amazing. Yeah, I could definitely eat.” Jared leads Jensen to the kitchen and pops the crescent rolls, already folded and spread out on the tray, into the oven. “Would you like something to drink? Iced tea, lemonade…wine?” “What kind of wine?” “I’ve got some California Chardonnay,” answers Jared. “It’s supposed to be good with chicken.” “That sounds awesome,” says Jensen. Jared gestures to the dining room. “Have a seat, I’ll bring it out.” Jensen sits down at the table. Jared pours two generous glasses of wine and takes them out to the dining room. He hands one to Jensen and sets the other at his own seat. Jensen smiles. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.” Jared glances at the timer on the kitchen counter. “The rolls will be done in about ten minutes, and then we can eat.” Jared bustles around, putting butter and salt and pepper on the table and setting it with silverware and bread plates. Jensen finally grabs his wrist before he can go back in the kitchen. “Are you avoiding me?” he asks, point-blank. Jared bites his lip. “I’m a little nervous,” he replies, which is the understatement of the year. He’s actually terrified that Jensen’s going to realize that Jared isn’t good enough for him. Jensen smiles and the corners of his eyes crinkle up in the most adorable way. It’s ridiculous, how amazingly gorgeous Jensen is. It’s hard to believe he’s real. “Please don’t be. Underneath the TV star exterior is just another Texas boy who spoils his dog rotten and dotes on his nephew.” Jared takes a deep breath. “I know. It’s just—you’re you. And I’m just me.” “Well, ‘just you’ is a pretty amazing guy,” says Jensen, standing up. He wraps an arm around Jared’s waist and pulls him close. “One I can easily see myself falling for—if I haven’t already.” Jared feels his cheeks grow hot. Jensen tilts his head up and kisses his jaw. “You’re smart, and you can cook, and you’re built like a freakin’ tank…” He gently nips at the skin under Jared’s ear. “And oh yeah, you have the brightest smile I’ve ever seen and the most adorable dimples, to boot.” Jared literally squirms in discomfort at the praise he doesn’t feel he deserves. But Jensen just reaches up and turns Jared’s head so he can capture his lips for a tender kiss. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re perfect,” murmurs Jensen. They keep making out until the oven timer shrieks, thoroughly wrecking the moment. Jared springs back and rushes to the oven to grab the rolls before they burn. He sets the hot pan on a cooling rack and retrieves two large stoneware bowls from the cupboard. He puts the rolls in a basket and takes it out to the table, then returns to dish up the chicken and dumplings into the bowls. He takes the two bowls into the dining room and when he sets one in front of Jensen, he moans with pleasure. “Man, that smells amazing.” Jared ducks his head. “Hope it tastes that good.” Jensen takes a bite and closes his eyes. This time the moaning is almost obscene. “Oh my God, that’s good.” Jared can’t hide his smile. “Thanks,” he says quietly, and reaches for a roll. He butters it while Jensen takes another pornographic bite. They don’t talk much during dinner, preferring to eat quickly and get to the fun stuff sooner. Jensen helps him clean up the dishes and pack up the leftovers, which Jared agrees to let him take when he leaves tomorrow. Jensen gives him a passionate kiss to thank him, which threatens to turn into another make-out session until Jensen draws back and whispers, “Let’s take this upstairs.” Jared grins and takes Jensen’s hand, leading him up the stairs to his bedroom. It’s dark, but when Jared goes to turn on the light, Jensen stills his hand. “Leave it,” he breathes. “More romantic that way.” Jared grins. He picks up a lighter and lights the two aromatherapy candles he put on his dresser this morning. “How’s this for romantic?” In the low light, Jared can see Jensen’s answering smile. “Perfect.” He crosses his arms over his stomach and pulls his black sweater over his head. Jared removes his t-shirt and steps out of his jeans and boxers. Jensen sheds his own jeans and boxer-briefs and takes a tentative step forward. Jared decides to show Jensen just how much gym time he gets in a week and scoops him up in a bridal carry. It’s only a few steps to reach the bed, and lays Jensen out as carefully as he would a porcelain doll. Jensen reaches up and cups his neck, then pulls him down for a bruising kiss. Jared climbs on the bed without breaking the kiss and straddles Jensen’s hips. Jensen throws one leg over Jared’s back and flips him with so little effort that Jensen actually laughs out loud. After a second of catching his breath, Jared does as well. “That’s my signature move,” says Jensen. “Learned it in the pilot.” “You do your own stunts?” asks Jared, raising an eyebrow. “Most of ‘em,” Jensen replies proudly. He presses his lips to Jared’s jaw and kisses a trail down to his stomach. “My own nude scenes, too.” “You do nude scenes on network TV?” “It’s 2017,” answers Jensen. “My ass pulled a 3 share last time.” “I assume that’s a good thing?” “My ass got better ratings in two minutes than Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s gotten in two years,” Jensen boasts. Jared traces the curve of Jensen’s ass with one hand and then teases at his hole. “I can see why.” “But your ass—” Jensen runs the tip of a finger around Jared’s hole so lightly that it makes Jared’s hair stand on end. “Your ass is a fucking work of art. You got lube?” Jared opens the nightstand drawer and pulls out lube and one of the brand-new condoms he just bought yesterday, because his were left over from high school. He hands both to Jensen and Jensen kisses him in thanks. Jensen slides one slick finger into Jared’s waiting hole and Jared has to consciously fight to stay relaxed. It’s been a long fucking time since he last did this—way too long, if you want to know the truth. But Jensen’s gentle and patient, easing Jared open with strong, sure fingers. Jared throws his head back and Jensen nips at his neck before turning his attention to Jared’s nipples, teasing one and then the other to hardness with his talented tongue. By that time, he’s got three fingers in Jared’s hole, and Jared’s just about losing his mind. “I’m ready,” he gasps. Jensen looks up. “You sure?” Jared nods so hard his hair falls in his eyes. He pushes it back as Jensen rolls the condom onto his thick, leaking cock and slicks it with lube. He enters Jared with care, giving Jared time to adjust as he goes, and Jared’s nerves sing with pleasure at the feeling of being filled up, being cared for, being loved. Jensen pulls back and then hits the sweet spot, and Jared sees white sparks at the edge of his vision. His breathing goes ragged as Jensen starts to fuck him with exquisite care. He’s thrusting as hard and fast as he dares, but Jared still wants more. “Harder,” Jared breathes, clasping the back of Jensen’s neck and crushing their lips together. Jensen obliges him in both, kissing him hard enough to bruise and fucking him hard enough to rattle the wall. Jared’s senses are overloaded and he can’t focus his attention, he’s just one big ball of tension and excitement. He comes with a bitten-off shout, and Jensen releases his lips and thrusts even faster until he achieves his own release. He collapses next to Jared, panting and trembling with exertion. Jared removes the condom for him and ties it off before tossing it in his bedside trash can. Jensen nods his thanks and tangles his fingers in Jared’s sweat-dampened hair, and when his breathing slows he presses his lips to Jared’s for a lazy, languid kiss. “I’m so glad you’re here,” breathes Jared when they break apart for air. Jensen smiles. “Yeah, me too.” “I wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow.” Jensen’s face falls. “Yeah, I do too.” “When can I see you again?” “I have a break around Valentine's Day,” replies Jensen. “I’ll come down then.” “When do you finish for the season?” “The end of March.” Jensen strokes Jared’s hair. “I usually go back to LA, but maybe I just might have to take a detour.” “You’d do that for me?” Jensen kisses him, soft and sweet. “In a heartbeat.”

#j2 fanfic #j2 #j2 au #365daysofj2 #bottom jared

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avi-stella · 8 years ago

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Work of Art (Ch. 4) | Zen/Hyun Ryu x Reader

RATING: Teen | GENRE: Fluff/Slice-of-Life SUMMARY: You happen to see a handsome-looking male and decide to draw him unsuspectingly. Taking interest (in you or your drawing, you don’t know), he gives you his number, and your relationship starts from there. NOTE: Takes place after Secret 02 and may contain spoilers. Reader is not MC. This is reader-interactive.

[PREVIOUS] • • [START FROM CH. 1]

If Zen had to describe how he was feeling at this moment with just one word, it would have to be nervous. He was internally debating with himself, wondering if he arrived too early or not. On one hand, he may have gotten a bit excited and arrived far earlier than the meeting time, but on the other hand, if you came early yourself, then you wouldn't have to wait for him if he came on time instead. The young man sat at a table, tapping his fingers against his thighs. Just a few minutes before, he was tapping his feet against the floor and shaking his leg, but he figured he would disturb the other patrons if he kept that up, so he opted for something a bit more discreet.

Zen hasn't had a girlfriend in five years, and this fact made him feel a bit doubtful as to whether or not he still had his charms. Sure enough, he had his looks, but there was more to it than just that. The actor wanted you to know that he had much more going to him than just appearance alone, and he wanted to determine as to whether or not you would like him for who he was a whole. As much as he bragged about his appearance, Zen couldn't help but still feel uncertain about it. If people only saw him for how he looked.

The young man isn't quite too sure how he wants to go about this weird and awkward start of a relationship with you. Just a while ago, a new party coordinator joined the RFA, and Zen couldn't deny his growing attraction towards them. Unfortunately for him, they did not return his feelings and instead fell for Seven instead. As upsetting as it was for Zen to have lost a chance of being romantically involved with someone, seeing his friends happy was good enough. Both the newest member of the RFA and Seven were happy together and obviously cared for one another, and for Zen, that was enough. ...But he wanted to experience love too.

He wanted to make somebody smile with his words and presence alone. He wanted to shower them with love. He wanted to hold hands, walk around the streets without a care in the world, share food, and just have a really good time overall. He wanted to wake up to their voice and go to sleep with the last thing on his mind being their face. He wanted to laugh about stupid things and share secrets. Zen had his dream with his career, yes, but he wanted to share it with someone special.

And then that was when he saw you. The actor was having difficulty with his new role and decided that a change of scenery might do him some good, so he had gone to a cafe with the hopes that it would help refresh his mind. He felt you staring at him from across the way, but you apparently didn't notice that he knew. It wasn't anything new for the actor; he's been stared at several times before, so he merely let things be.

However, when he stole the occasional glances towards you out of curiosity, he noticed that you were scribbling something. He wasn't too sure what though since he was too far away to see; it made him feel slightly self-conscious, but he thought your look of concentration was pretty cute and difficult to ignore. That was when he decided to strike up a conversation with you. Zen got up from his seat and made his way over to you.

Zen never quite had difficulty with words. Improv and smooth-talking were some of his talents, but when his eyes flickered over to your drawing of him, his mind somehow went blank. The details you paid so much attention to had him stunned. It was flattering how you managed to get all of his details perfectly and depict him in a way that captured his essence, and he panicked when his mind came up empty-handed.

Suddenly, words seemed to fail him, so he awkwardly gave you his calling card and briskly left. The actor tried to maintain a cool and suave demeanor, but as soon as he left, he buried his face into his hands and groaned. He realized he never gave his name nor asked for yours, and he figured that was probably the worst case of having a guy give the person they were interested in his number.

But to his pleasant surprise, you ended up contacting him despite his awkward gait. Zen found it awfully sweet on how considerate you were to text him first at night in case you ended up accidentally waking him. Of course, that wasn't ever going to happen because he planned on staying up until you called him, but you didn't know that.

The actor brought himself back to the present and slapped his cheeks to prepare himself. He wanted to be the perfect gentlemen. It's been a while since he's treated someone, and he wants things to go well, and hopefully, things could grow from there. Zen hears the door open, and he excitedly looks up, hoping that it's actually you this time. He's been shooting his head up at the door whenever it opened only to be disappointed when it's someone else who came inside, but this time, it's you that enters the cafe.

It really is you, and the young man has to discreetly pinch himself to make sure that he isn't dreaming. His eyes widen when they fall upon your figure. He's in complete awe. The dress you were wearing looked wonderful on you, but what Zen was most captivated by was the excited smile on your face. The small bite of lip to contain your excitement, and Zen found himself biting his lower lip too.

You look around the cafe, thinking you might have arrived too early, but your eyes make contact with Zen's. The actor almost wants to look away from embarrassment, but he doesn't. He keeps his gaze locked with yours as you slowly start to make your way over. Zen immediately gets up from his seat and pulls your chair out for you. You giggle softly to yourself. It hasn't even been three whole minutes since the start of this date, but you already decided that it was going to be a good one.

You take your seat before Zen takes his own again, and the young man tries really hard not to bounce in his seat. He keeps his head down for a while, probably to hide the small blush on his face, but you still catch it. He looks up at you through his lashes and offers you a small smile. "You look beautiful," he finally manages to speak, and you know that he's being sincere. He wasn't saying it out of formality; he truly did find you to look beautiful, and you grin.

"Thank you. You look very dashing yourself," you return, and Zen gives a lopsided smile in response, not quite sure what else to say.

It's a bit awkward and nerve-wrecking, and the two of you take your orders, hoping it'll help alleviate the tension in the air. It isn't quite successful, and the two of you sit there, taking a few occasional sips from your drinks, avoiding eye contact but stealing a few glances at each other here and there. Just then, you feel your legs accidentally brush against Zen's, and you immediately pull them back.

""Sorry,"" you both apologize at the exact same time.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, smiling bashfully with an equal amount of blush on both of your cheeks before breaking out into a small laughing fit. You've attracted the stares of other people, but you don't care. You're too lost in your own little world as the previous tension dissolves away. You rest your elbows on the table and daringly lean forward.

"So, introductions..." you start.

Zen flashes you a wink. "Ladies first."

You lean back, unable to hide the stupid grin on your face, but when you look at Zen...he seems rather happy himself. It's as though he enjoys that stupid grin of yours, and it sort of pulls one out of him as well. So, you introduce yourself. You give your name once more and talk a little bit about yourself. The entire time, Zen seems fascinated, nodding his head and offering comments and questions here and there. Then finally, you decide you've had enough talking about yourself, and it's Zen's turn to introduce himself.

In all honesty, you can't take your eyes off of him when he starts to talk about himself, but not in a narcissistic manner. No, he was animated and passionate with his words and small actions, a large and toothy grin on his face. You lean forward on the table again, captivated, and it doesn't escape Zen's notice, and he beams even more that you're interested.

He tells you little things about himself and his hobbies, and you can feel yourself falling for him. You loved the way his eyes would light up whenever he talked about his job, or the way he would tilt his head to the side whenever he was thinking about something, or the way he would relax his shoulders whenever he got caught up in his words, or the way he would just...smile and look at you like you're the most beautiful person he's ever seen in his life, focusing on you and only you.

Zen pauses to take a moment to catch his breath, and a comfortable silence fills the air between you two. Your hands are on the table, as are his, and he bites his cheek while wondering if it would be okay for him to reach out and grab hold of your hand.

"No, no, no, that would be inappropriate," he thinks to himself. "That'd be moving too quickly...or would it? It—It should be fine, right? I mean, she seems interested in me, and I'm definitely interested in her, so..."

From the corner of your eyes, you see Zen's fingers twitch. That's when you finally realize how close your hands are to each other, and it dawns on you. You bow your head and press your lips together in a firm line to stop yourself from letting out an excited squeal at how adorable this young man was being right now. You decide to help him with his decision.

What do you do? • Tell Zen, "You can hold my hand if you want to" • Go for it and quietly hold his hand • Brush your legs with his again underneath the table

[NEXT CHAPTER]

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