#i was like “no way my mid traditional sketch i made in a hurry is getting praise- I CAN DO BETTER”

[kyeterna]

Stardust

[misiwrites]

Beyblade Week Day 3

for the third @beybladeweek2021​ oneshot set in the 4kingdoms-verse, i have a silly little story from the west. takes place at some random point before the beginning of the main fic.

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Fashion / Flowers / Autumn

“Underplates… napkins… saucers… and the cup handles to the right.”

Mathilda places each piece of the set with meticulous care. After the cups and cutlery are in place, she arranges the jam and cream dish on the tray, and then, of course, the centrepiece of the table, the golden cake stand for the treats.

“Handmade by Sir Olivier!”

She giddily sets the macarons and finger sandwiches on the stand. Then a freshly brewed pot of black tea from the kitchen, and everything is ready to go. Her butterfly heart flutters with nervous excitement as she carefully lifts the heavy tray and slowly makes her way out of the servants’ quarters. She has to focus on each and every step to avoid making any silly mistakes that could end up in a tea-stained catastrophe.

It’s a lovely day in early Harvestmoon. Pleasant and still, perfect for having tea outside – not something that could be said about most days in the Country of West, usually so drizzly and grey.

Whatever the weather, Mathilda never grows tired of the beauty of the Tiger Maple Palace, and although acting as a maid isn’t exactly part of the royal page’s routine and the tray is so heavy that it leaves her arms sore, it’s an honour to be asked to serve afternoon tea to her favourite guests at the palace, Lady Chen Mao and her handmaid Julia from the mansion on Kuí.

She finds them under a canopy of branches of blazing orange and yellow, hunched over some papers and magazines on the patio floor. Mao’s holy beast companion, Galux, is having a nap on its designated cushion a few feet away.

“But there are so many different types of zan zi… Oh, look, the tea has arrived!”

Mao is stunning as always. The wide sleeves of her blue-and-orange ruqun dress billow along as she jumps to her feet; she wears her rose colour hair on two long braids today, their shape resembles chains of traditional Western paper lanterns, and Mathilda has no doubt that the style is in accordance with the latest trends of high fashion in this kingdom. The handmaid, Julia, is more composed than Mao and rises to her feet with more dignity, politely nodding at Mathilda who approaches them with the tray.

“Good afternoon, Lady Mao, Miss Fernández,” Mathilda greets them, her cheeks slightly flushed. Relief washes over her as she successfully lands the tray on the garden table. No casualties this time, and the tea is still hot.

“Hi, Matty! Is it okay if I call you Matty? It was Julia’s idea.” Like a robin, Mao soars over to the table, then quickly turns to face her handmaid. “Jules, bring the papers here so we can keep planning while eating.”

When Mao is distracted instructing Julia, Mathilda hurries over to pull a chair out for her. “Um, um, feel free to call me as you wish, milady.”

“Aren’t you one considerate sweetheart, Matty! And how lovely the tea looks! Are these macarons by Olivier again? He’s such a weirdo – I’ve never heard of a knight who’s also a cook before, not to mention a damn pastry chef! Sword in one hand, a rolling pin in the other, how reassuring.”

Mathilda says nothing; hearing Mao talk about her master in such a manner always makes her ears burn, but she can’t not admire her audacious nature all the same. That boyish edge in Mao’s behaviour must have rubbed off on her from her older brother, the Duke of Kuí, whom Mathilda has always found nothing short of intimidating.

As Julia joins Mao, Mathilda can see that the papers she has brought along include several volumes of fashion-related magazines and what look like blueprints for a fashion design project of some sort. She tries not to snoop too much, not wanting to cross her boundaries as an outsider, but she hasn’t even finished pouring the two cups full when Mao is already deliberately pulling her into the conversation.

“So about the zan zi – I was thinking I’d want it to follow the flower theme, but I don’t really want there to be too much gold… you know… and a chai would be a bit meh… Matty, what  kind of hair ornaments do you like?”

“Me? Oh…” Mathilda, who always wears her hair short and simple, racks her brain for an answer of any substance. “Well, um… um... Oh, I went to the Tianguan market square earlier this week, and there was a stall with wonderful flower zan zi from the East… made of fabric… The vendor said that they were created to commemorate the Seiryuu-ou’s late mother… They looked very lovely.”

“From the East? That’s an amazing idea!” Mao darts a triumphant look at Julia across the table. “That’s really unique! You should go check them out with Matty.”

“Of course, milady.”

“But tea comes first, obviously.”

Mathilda ends up spending a long while with the other girls in the garden, leafing through the magazines and following along in curious silence as they (mainly Mao, although she clearly holds Julia’s opinions about fashion in high regard) build their design piece by piece, element by element, carefully considering each detail to complement the big picture. Mao is sketching the design on paper herself as they go, and it’s obvious to Mathilda that she’s quite used to doing this kind of thing.

“Lady Mao,” she asks after a while, “are you perhaps planning to launch your own fashion line? A whole catalogue? You are very good at design.”

“Wow, thank you! You know, that’s actually an amazing idea!” Mao claps her hands together in excitement, her golden eyes positively sparkling at Mathilda. “Let’s make a whole line! This lotus daxiushan can be the first one. Oh, oh, Jules, we need to do the hair next!”

“Glad you brought that up, milady, I actually have several styles bookmarked that I thought you might like.” Julia whips out a HoloPad, and soon the mid-air above the tea set is filled with an array of images of the most intricate braidwork that Mathilda has ever seen, so fantastical that it’s hard to believe that these are photos of real people’s hair. (Perhaps they are not.)

“Oh my cats. Jules, you are the best.”

Mathilda chuckles in content and delight, her hands nested in her lap. These two girls are so entertaining and so eccentric, she never knew the nobles could be this fun. She enjoys their company so much – perhaps a bit too much, even, for someone in her position...

But, for now, she decides to simply go with the flow and worry about it later.

 * * *  * * *

 “Mao, what is this?”

“Shhh! Stop talking, you’re ruining the image! Stay totally still. Be like... what was the word again? Esoteric! You need to look esoteric, Rei-nii.”

Rei has no idea how a person is supposed to look esoteric, especially when he’s forced to stand still while posing in whatever unnatural stances Mao keeps coming up with, currently holding what he thinks is some sort of traditional brass instrument but the name of which he has no idea about.

The only reason he even agreed to a fashion photoshoot was that it’s Mao’s birthday and he wanted to please his childhood friend – but he wasn’t aware that in doing so, he agreed to a day-long session of acting as a doll designed by Mao and her handmaid, in a studio that they have somehow managed to build inside one of the pavilions of Tiger Maple, complete with several landscape backdrops.

It’s not that the clothes Mao is making him wear are bad; in fact, this outfit of a burgundy yichang dress and a dark blue daxiushang robe with a serpent-like lotus pattern adorning the broad yet lightweight sleeves feel rather comfortable in comparison to his usual formal robes that have an unnecessary abundance of coating, thanks to whoever in the past decided that the number of layers was a status symbol and therefore imposing a life sentence of drowning in a sea of layered silk upon the Byakko-ou... but the uncomfortably tight lace braids winding around his skull to form an enormous rosette of hair in the back of his head are a bit too much, as are the flower hairpins that nest above his temples and create a drooping curtain of red and white petals to frame his face; and, after several hours have already gone by, his arms and feet are beginning to hurt from standing still while holding whatever prop items the girls are sticking in his hands, from parasols to flutes and swords and whatever this newest addition is. He’s not used to standing around this much in his monotonous everyday life.

And even worse, Rei has already seen that Mao has an entire catalogue of self-made fashion concepts waiting that she wants to take pictures of him in.

The smallest of sighs escapes Rei’s lips. This doesn’t feel appropriate for his status. Incredible but true, he wishes he was instead having tea with Olivier right now.

“Stay still!” Mao immediately condemns him, “And stop looking so bored! You need to look more dramatic. You’re the king, Rei-nii, act more like it.”

What a long, long day this would end up being.

[pluto-fics]

Inspiration is Motivation － Prologue

Fanfiction | Artist!Taehyung x SingleMom!Reader

Genres: Fluff, Romance, Humor, Smut

Rating: G (for this chapter)

Word Count: 2.385 words

Chapter Warnings: none

Your brows furrow at the earlier statement of your best friend, Hanna.

"Believe me, it'll help you to relax for a few hours and I'll take good care of Ty."

You have no doubt about the latter. Hanna might be that stereotype single woman who likes to go out for a couple drinks every so often, but she is a reliable caretaker and one ridiculously good cook. Based on this, she was an absolute blessing the last two times she watched over your son. However, you still feel a little uneasy about her suggestion.

"I don't know... Tyler is kind of stubborn and moody lately, how could I leave you both alone for nearly four full hours? Not to mention that I can paint at home if I want to, I don't need to go to some weird art course..." you try to defy yourself. The idea of entrusting Hanna with your five year old son for so long worries you. Just the thought of it causes a bad feeling to spread throughout your body. Hanna just rolls her eyes, however. "Listen. I already signed you up for that course this Saturday. It's supposed to start at eleven, won't go past three in the afternoon and you can calmly come back home to Tyler and me having a great time without setting your apartment on fire."

You can't fight down the amused giggle at her statement before you sigh. "Hanna, I really don't-..." you begin, only to be interrupted mid-sentence. "Yes, you do want to try it. I'll be here at 10 this Saturday and you can either go to that course or stay here with us and bathe in my judgment."

And here you are, two days later and sat on a chair in front of an empty canvas and an A3 sized sketchpad, surrounded by strangers who, just like you, are waiting for the course to begin.

You take this time to inspect the equipment provided to you. Brushes and pencils of rather good quality, however accompanied by a cheap, fizzy eraser. The watercolor paint seems decent enough. But the big bottles of acrylics and oils on the desk in the middle of the room, accessible for everyone in it, clearly are not top-notch quality. That of course does not mean it is bad per se, you just might have expected something fancier in the art department of the local Community College.

Your train of thoughts comes to an abrupt stop when you hear someone opening the big wooden door and entering the room, a deep but smooth voice wishing you and your fellow course participants a good morning. The slender figure who just stepped into the room makes your eyes grow wide the second you lay your eyes on him. He is tall, with model like features, facial as well as bodywise. His fashion sense clearly is a little extravagant, for he wears a way too oversized dress shirt with a pair of what almost seemed to be pajama pants of some sort, and a matching beige colored beret topping his head. The big round glasses topping his nose make you curious. Does he need them to see? Or were they simply added to this retro outfit because they fit the vibe?

"I'm glad you all made it here on time, unlike myself" he then speaks while rummaging in the bag he has just placed on top of the desk in the front of the room. You hear quiet giggles erupting from two slightly older women in the back. His lips curve into a handsome smile, not even needing to show the whites of his teeth to make you doubt the existence of a man with such impressive visuals. Yet, you feel kind of stupid for the way you swoon over his looks like a teenager, despite being a grown woman with a child waiting for her to return home.

The young man claps his hands together as if to catch everyone's attention, even though he already possesses the full concentration of everyone in this room. "Now, I'd like to start by introducing myself, if that's alright by you."

He swiftly turns to the chalkboard behind himself and writes down what you assume to be his name.

"My name is Kim Taehyung and I teach traditional art at the local University. But as you can tell, I'm also hosting art courses like this one once a week, while also working as a hobby freelance artist. So I guess you could say that art is my passion."

There it is again. That charming smile of his as he tends to the attentive group of people in front of him. "But enough of me, I think we're all here to improve our skills, so how about we start with some easy warm ups to get creative first?" You notice everyone responding by nodding or already flipping over the cover of the massive sketchpad in front of them to reveal a blank page. Imitating your 'classmates', you flip open your sketchpad and face Mr. Kim again.

He begins by instructing everyone to warm up their wrists by drawing circular shapes of several sizes and shading them to your heart's content to make yourself familiar with the medium you're using. Another hint of his is to try the different art materials provided to each one of the participants and see which one you'd preferably work with today.

A couple minutes later, you can tell Mr. Kim valued his participants' individuality. Only giving a rough theme for the artwork you are supposed to create, he left everything else to you. "Warm Autumn" was the theme he came up with and your mind immediately drifts off into what you would like to call your ‘creative mode’. Images of brown leaves, soft breezes of air and fluffy fabrics of knitwear come to your mind. Thus, you begin by settling on a color palette in warm brown, red and yellow tones and soon start by sketching an idea.

Mr. Kim does no longer talk to the whole course. Instead, he begins to slowly walk around the classroom and take a look at everyone's approaches on the topic. Usually, you'd get so engulfed in your works that you would blend out most of your surroundings. However, Mr. Kim's presence makes it hard for you to fully concentrate on the sketch before you like you usually would. You don't even need to look up to know where Mr. Kim currently stood at, while he gradually comes closer to where you are seated at.

The sound of his steps approaching you slowly sends shivers down your spine, just like the feeling of him standing right beside you, wordlessly examining your sketch. You can't keep from glancing up at his face as his gaze remains locked on the paper before you, an approving look surfacing on his face. He then glances at your face, his eyes meeting yours immediately as he leans down a bit to speak to you with a quieter, low voice. "Nice choice of motives. Do you have an idea for the final composition already?"

You feel your cheeks heating up as you mumble out a shy "Um, kind of", unsure of how to feel about the genuine interest Mr. Kim shows. It's been a while since someone other than your son Tyler had commented on one of your works. The young artist next to you smiles. "You're a fast one, huh? I like that. But let me know if you need anything, alright?" His voice is just as unique as his appearance. And the more you get to hear of it, the more you come to like the sound of it. Nodding your head with a smile, you thank him before he smiles back and moves on to the next participant of his course.

By the end of the course, you have created a piece you are rather proud of - the motives assembled in a harmonic way, adding to the calm and welcoming atmosphere of your painting. Throughout the creation process of it, Mr. Kim came around every once in a while to praise you for your ideas or help you improve parts of your piece in ways you wouldn't have been able to think of yourself. You have actually truly enjoyed today. At the end of the course, Mr. Kim gives his final speech in which he thanks everyone for participating and gives some last advice before sending everyone home with their final artworks. You had just put the materials you had used back to where you got them from, ready to pack your things to leave, when Mr. Kim approaches you with a gentle smile. "(Y/N), am I right?" He addresses you, your heart seemingly skipping a beat at the way your name sounds when spoken with his smooth voice. "Yes, that would be me" you say, turning to him with faked confidence. In reality, something about this Kim Taehyung makes you feel like a shy teenager again. He smiles apologetically as he asks "Do you perhaps have a minute or two to talk? If you're not in a hurry to be somewhere, that is."

To be honest, you want to apologize and leave right now. Tyler is waiting for you at home, after all. And so is Hanna. But your head nods on it’s own accord before your mind could stop it from doing so. What are a few minutes anyway, right?

"Great! Actually, I was curious to see how your piece turned out. To be honest, I didn't really get to look at it yet," he then says as he regards your artwork which is still on the easel at your seat. Examining it interestedly, he chuckles. "You're really talented, you know? This can't have been the first time you’ve painted something like this."

Your lips curve upwards in a bashful smile. "Ah, well actually... It's kind of my hobby. It's just that I haven't had much time to pursue it recently..." you answer. A soft humming noise resonates in his throat before he faces you again. "Are you interested in modern art too?" He suddenly asks, catching you a little off guard. "Modern art?" You repeat, to which he nods. "There's an art exhibition at the City Hall next friday. The main focus of it lays on contemporary artists and most works shown there are paintings and sculptures, rather than installations or anything like that. But I have a feeling that you might like it." You aren't sure where he was aiming at with this information, but you appreciate it. Mirroring his friendly smile, you say "It does sound interesting, yes. But I'm really busy lately, I'm not sure if I'll be able to go."

Mr. Kim seems understanding as he nods. "Well, if you do make it, maybe we'll meet there." He responds, making you nod slowly as you mumble a barely audible "That'd be nice." You want to ask him if there'd also be works of his exhibited there, remembering that he introduced himself as a freelance artist earlier, but the sound of your phone vibrating in your pocket interrupts you. "Ah, sorry" you then say, quickly looking at your phone to see messages of Hanna coming in. It’s nothing serious, just questions about whether Tyler still takes naps after lunch or not, since he apparently got a little energy boost after having eaten well. But it is urgent enough for you to decide that it is time to go home now. "I better get going now. Today was really nice, thank you. And thank you for telling me about the art exhibition, too. As you said, maybe we'll meet there." You speak as you collect your belongings and art piece, Mr. Kim nodding calmly and smiling as he wishes you a nice day before you leave.

On your way home, you keep thinking about today's events. About the fun you have had while painting for the first time in months and the useful help Mr. Kim had offered. The giddy feeling you got whenever he would lean in to talk to you quietly with that soothing deep voice of his. You have really had a great day, even if you still feel a little awkward for being so affected by the male's looks and kind words. But who could blame you, if said artist looks like a piece of art himself?

Arriving at home, the first thing you notice right after opening the front door is the welcoming scent of warm pancakes coming from your kitchen. Peeking past the doorframe, you smile at the sight of your best friend and son pouring dough into a frying pan together, your little son giggling in excitement.

"Hello you two" you greet the diligently working duo and laugh when your son immediately comes running to you to hug your legs and welcome you back excitedly. Crouching down to meet his eyes, you then give him a kiss on his cheek and smile at him. "Did you have a nice time with Hanna?" You ask, your smile widening when Tyler nods eagerly. "Yes! Hanna knows so many fun games for two! We played hide and seek too!” You give Hanna a glance, relieved to see her smiling just as happily as your little son. For some reason you’re always worried that he might be a little too challenging for her sometimes, but seeing her reaction to his happy storytelling, you have no doubt that she adores your son almost as much as you do.

Getting up to greet your friend properly with a short hug, you then look at the pile of pancakes on the kitchen counter. "Someone seems to be hungry, huh" you comment, Hanna rolling her eyes as she speaks, avoiding the topic. "How was the art course?"

You can feel Tyler leaning against your legs, silently requesting your attention. Picking him up to hold him close, you then begin to tell Hanna about the building, the people there, the fun you had when painting something from start to finish for the first time in ages, and in the end you thank her for having made this possible. Yet, a very specific detail you keep to yourself for now － Kim Taehyung.

Thank you for reading the Prologue to my new series “Inspiration is Motivation”!

If you can’t wait to read the next chapter, check out my Series Masterlist and follow @pluto-fics to be notified of new updates.

Stay safe and see you soon! 💜

- Pluto 🌑