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lovemusicpart2 · 5 months ago

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"In the imortal words of captain James T. Kirk 'there is no room for bigotry on this ship' so if yiu dont mind, sit down and shut up"

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Basics

•Name•

Dr. Maximilian 'Millie' Juliette McAlastair

•Nickname•

Millie, little miss genius, little Britain

•Birthday•

25th August

•Birthplace•

Greenwich, England

•Gender Identity•

Female (She/Her/Hers)

•Sexuality•

Pansexual

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"It greatly upsets me that theres no good tea in the kitchenette"

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Appearance

•Eyes•

Green

•Hair��

Ginger

•Skin•

Very pale/Porcelain

•Height•

5'4"

•Scars•

A few small scars on her hands and a large one from her pelvis to her ribcage from a case

•Piercings•

Basic ear piercings

•Tattoos•

N/A

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"If i have to look at another petty crime casefile again im going to throw up"

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Personality

•One word to describe them•

Alexithymia

(n.) The inability to express one's feelings

•Good traits•

➶ Intelligent

➶ Cheerful

➶ Honest

•Bad traits•

➶ Timid

➶ Easily distracted

➶ Sarcastic

•Hobbies•

➶ TTRPGS

➶ Baking/Cooking

➶ Reading (she loves comic books)

•Likes•

➶ Art galleries/museums

➶ Crime Novels

➶ Board games

•Dislikes•

➶ Hot weather

➶ Being rushed

➶ People not being clear about what they mean

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"Who doesn't love a good murder suicide to start the week"

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Health

•Physical•

Millie is physically quite healthy, though she does suffer from

- POTS

- Hypogycemia

- Anemia

•Mental•

Millie is rather disconnected to the world around her due to some incidents in her youth.

•Illnesses•

N/A

•Sleep habits•

She sleeps decently most nights, but sometimes it's interrupted by bouts of insomnima. However, she is suffers from Charcot-Wilbrand Syndrome, causing her tj be unable to dream

•Eating habits•

Millie likes to cook her own food, that way she knows exactly what goes into it

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”i think even my bones are bruised. What happened?”

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Family

•Mother•

Dr. Lorelai James McAlastair (deceased)

Lorelai was a well known and published Psychologist.

•Father•

George Rafkin McAlastair (deceased)

George was a British politician known for his left wing views

•Sibling•

Older Sister - Harrison 'Harri' Rosaline Hawkins

•Extended family•

God father - David Rossi

Brother in law - Aston Hawkins

Niece - Christopher 'Kit' Hazel Hawkins

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”look, i dont know what to tell you. The Riddler is the best Batman villain"

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Relationships

•Best friend•

Penelope Garcia

•Friends•

Emily Prentiss

Aaron Hotchner

Jennifer Jareau

Derek Morgan

•Enemies•

N/A

•Love Interest•

Dr. Spencer Reid

•Pets•

Cats - Donald & Benoit

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”im so tired that i dont even know what day it is”

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Agent information

•Unit•

Behavioural Analysis Unit

•Rank•

Agent

•Specialization •

Psychology and Criminal Behaviour

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”all i want is to curl up with my cats, watch Clue and get some rest”

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Backstory

•Childhood•

When she was quite young, Millie was very close to her family. Though, when she accidentally viewed her fathers suicide while trying to surprise him, her problems began. She was about 10 when it happened

•Teenage years•

After countless sessions of therapy and attempts to console her over her father's death, it happened again. Due to the sheer pain her mother felt of her husbands suicide it wasn't long before she killed herself too. Millie came home from school and found her mother hanging in the hall. She was about 15 this time

•Adulthood•

After both her parents suicides she joined a university and poured everything she had into her studies. She managed to get a job at MI5, and then later, she moved to America to be closer to her remaining family. She quicklyngot a job at the FBI in their Behavioural Analysis Unit

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”you know, sometimes i just want to go to the sea side and not have to look at a dead body”

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Extras

•Face Claim•

•Theme song•

youtube

#Youtube

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mazeinthemiroh · 2 years ago

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kim hongjoong boyfriend headcanons

genre: fluff

word count: 0.7k

warnings: none

requested?: yes

song rec: purple rain by prince

pls like and reblog if you enjoyed! feel free to request anything <3

before we begin, i just wanna say that i love this man he's just amazing in every way

just needed to get that off my chest, phew

ok lets do this

if hongjoong chooses you as his partner... you are so so lucky

this man is so loyal and will put his heart and soul into the relationship. i think it would take a lot for him to trust someone in a romantic type of way because he wants to make sure that he is with the right person. he doesn't want to waste his time or potentially have his feelings hurt by someone who is not putting in the same amount of trust and effort into the relationship as he is

his main love language is quality time. which... is hard, because he is very busy. but he will make a special effort to try to hang out with you, maybe in his lunch break, he will see if he can meet up with you for a quick coffee. or if he is reallyyyy busy but just wants to see your beautiful face, he will give you the option to hang out in the studio

if you do decide to join him in the studio he will be super happy! will show you how he produces or will ask you for your input for new song ideas. if you like a certain genre he will try and incorporate that for you in his new song!

he is very attentive. loves listening to you talk about all your passions, interests, hopes and dreams. and he will really appreciate it if you do the same for him. someone who really listens and is interested in what he has to say, perhaps about his music or future goals for instance is a person hongjoong would really like as a partner. he really likes connecting with you on a deep, personal level. would probably stay up all night talking to you if he could but man is tired most of the time so will probably drift off to sleep. talking with you about literally anything just takes his mind away from work and all the stuff he has to get done. you really just give him time to relax and enjoy himself.

he catches himself being romantic when he starts writing romantic songs about you. it's like he can't help it! the lyrics were so easy to write for him because all he had to do was think of you

hongjoong isn't too keen on pda (public displays of affection.) he prefers to express his physical affection for you privately. we know from countless of ateez content that he doesn't like skinship, but here comes my ✨theory✨: hongjoong does like skinship, in his own way. there are instances where he is physically affectionate with the members but it is usually when he initiates it. he can be touchy, he just has to be comfortable and trust you, which will obviously happen as you get to know each other more. did any of that make any sense??? lmao

and when he is comfortable enough to initiate more than just hand-holding and other little touches, he will essentially turn into your little cuddle bug. usually when he is sleepy ngl. looking into his eyes you will see a warm glow in them as he looks at you with a sleepy smile, he will shuffle over and essentially flop his body onto yours and will fall asleep then and there. you provide so much comfort for him

dates with him would include:

cafe dates - hongjoong's go-to date is probably finding a cute little cafe to go with you, so you guys can just sit, relax and talk together about anything and everything. he loves these dates because its quick, convenient, requires no planning and also just has the perfect atmosphere for a date!

cultural dates - i'm talking museums, art galleries, going into book shops or record shops or any unique place that catches your eye. he just loves experiencing these things with you

photography dates - if you both are into photography this will be a date he would love to take you on! just having both your cameras and going on walks, working on your photography skills together. he will probably take more pictures of you than the actual scenery because he says you're prettier <///3

conclusion: hongjoong best boy

#hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez #atz #atz fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez headcanons #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #requested

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nationalharryleague · 4 years ago

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Work of Art

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: AU, Artist!Harry, fluff, angst if you squint

Word count: 4K

A/N: Hi everyone! This is my entry for @hsogolden ’s AU writing challenge! Check out their blog they are incredibly talented!!! ALSO, a MASSIVE thank you and shoutout to the lovely Miss Lu, @harrysgucciloafers!!! I could have never done it without her!! Thank you so much for reading and remember, feedback is so so so appreciated!!! You can also send requests to my ask anytime!! I hope you enjoy :) More of my writing can be found in my masterlist :)

***

Sleep was fleeting and you remained staring at your popcorn ceiling in your shitty apartment for longer than you would have liked. It was later than you would have liked when your phone buzzed and lit up the ceiling of your bedroom. Knowing sleep was still far off, you rolled over and examined the text from an unknown number, the bright screen blinding you in the process.

Hi, I was thinking of you today. I thought I would show you this piece that I made of you. Hope you’re doing well. Hx, attached was a slightly blurry photo of a beautiful painting of a woman.

The woman in the painting was made up of beautiful bright colors, her skin a mix of green, blue, and purple tones. Her eyes were a bright and captivating cerulean, standing out behind wide framed glasses, and she wore an intriguing and knowing smirk on her lips. Her hair fell down in blunt bangs over her forehead and framed her heart shaped face. She was young, looking to be only a little bit older than you.

The painting was captivating. It was crafted with such bright tones, using color blocking that blended the abstract with some elements of realism. It felt like someone poured all of their emotion and adoration or hurt (you couldn’t decide which) into it. You couldn’t decide if the artist loved or hated this figure staring back at you. One thing you knew was that whoever texted you was incredibly talented and had obviously dedicated so much time to this piece. You felt awful that it hadn’t reached its intended destination.

Um… Wrong number, you typed out, feeling a pang of sympathy for whoever ‘H’ was.

Oh… okay. Sorry to bother you., your phone screen lit up again.

Your art is beautiful, you quickly sent back, attempting to offer some sort of consolation to the mystery artist. Sorry I’m not who you wanted to talk to.

Don’t worry about it. Just looking for someone from a lifetime ago.

That last part kept you up for most of the night. You couldn’t stop thinking about what that could mean. Old friend? Estranged relative? Another artist? You let your mind dream up Oscar-worthy scenarios until you finally fell asleep.

***

“Please come to Scott’s art show with me,” Grace whined from across the table at your favorite coffee shop. Grace was your best friend from college and hadn’t figured out to get rid of you yet.

“You know how I feel about your shitty boyfriend and his shitty art,” you fired back. Scott was a pretentious “artist” who made “ironic” misogynistic sculptures and frequently “forgot” to pay Grace back for his share of rent. You hated his guts.

“I promise I’m going to break up with him soon. I just need to get to the end of the month so I get my money’s worth for rent,” she assured you. “By the way, I’m going to need some help moving out at the end of the month,” she mentioned nonchalantly. You let out a chuckle at her and playfully rolled your eyes.

“I will go to the show with you on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“You’ll hold my hand.”

A few hours later you walked into the modern and cold art show space, holding onto Grace’s hand for dear life, feeling unwelcome in this environment. Grace blended in easily, her bright blue hair and arms of tattoos suiting her well. The edgiest thing you had ever done was getting your nose pierced… until your grandma threw a fit and your mom made you take it out. You were not an artist and you did not feel welcome in the art community, or at least the type of artists that hang out with Scott. You worked in an office, you dressed plainly and simply, and you didn’t think there was anything special about yourself. You were strikingly ordinary, a sharp contrast from most other people in the gallery. You felt like an outsider because you were one.

Walking around the gallery, you hung onto Grace while examining and appreciating the artwork. You took careful steps, as if to not take attention away from the paintings on the walls and spent time examining each piece as you moved through the room. As you moved from wall to wall, your eyes fell on a strikingly familiar painting. The same girl with the bright blue eyes and the bangs stared back at you, the devilish smirk still playing upon her lips like she knew you had met before.

Releasing Grace’s hand, you all but ran up to the painting in question, trying to take in all the details that didn’t translate over the slightly grainy photo on your phone. The painting took on a life of its own up close. The paint itself was layered thick and thin across the canvas creating a rough texture that made the girl come alive. You were half waiting for her to make eye contact with her captivating baby blues and start staring back at you. You felt like you could reach inside the canvas and hold the beautiful woman’s face in your hands.

“Do you like it?” a deep British voice asked after clearing their throat behind you.

“Oh, it’s so beautiful,” you murmured, still staring at the green and purple woman. It took you a moment to rip yourself away from her piercing eyes and look towards the voice, only to turn around and find an even more captivating set.

They were bright green and belonged to a tall, dark haired man that was breathtaking. He had chocolate brown curls that seemed to be sticking in every direction, like a purposefully perfect bedhead, and stubble that moved up his jaw and down his neck. He had plushy pink lips framing his bright smile and his two front teeth came down the tiniest bit too far. He was wearing a white tshirt that was painted to his fit body as it was a size too small for him, showing off his arms of tattoos, and a pair of orange corduroy flares. His ensemble was topped off with a pearl necklace. He arched a brow when your mouth hung open slightly, trying to take all of him in.

“The painting is gorgeous,” you eventually were able to spit out. “I feel like I know her.”

“I’m glad that I was able to create something so captivating,” he smiled at you. So he was the one that painted it, meaning he was the one who had texted it to you. After getting over the initial shock, you gave yourself an internal high five for having this guy’s number. “Harry,” he introduced himself, reaching out a perfectly manicured hand to shake yours. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Y/N,” you smiled back, debating if you should tell him that you had kind of met before. It felt creepy to tell him, like you were some sort of voyer on an intimate part of his life. “I love her. Can you tell me a little bit more about it?” you asked. You had to figure out if it was worth being creepy about.

“So did I,” he said with a light chuckle. “She’s someone that I used to know,” he elaborated looking over your shoulder, surely making eye contact with the woman. Maybe you were reading into it too closely, but you thought a flash of hurt passed across his features.

“Do you always paint mysterious people from your past?” you teased, wanting to break the slightly awkward silence and also willing to do anything to talk to him further.

“Actually, I’m mainly a landscape painter,” he smiled at the ground, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Looking back at Harry’s wall of paintings you realized that the girl was the only person on the wall, flanked by beautiful landscape paintings depicting all different areas of the world. You quickly picked your favorite, a monochromatic green scene of the Eiffel tower.

After you asked if he traveled a lot to paint, the conversation began to flow. You strolled around the mainly empty studio space, footsteps falling in sync, him teaching you about his paintings and you asking questions, desperate to learn anything you could from him and just wanting to hear that beautiful accent. You learned he grew up in Cheshire and moved to New York for school and never left, but he travelled to Europe often to see his family and to paint. He told you about how his ultimate goals in life were to have one of his pieces in the Museum of Modern Art and to find his soulmate. He was a hopeless yet hopeful romantic. He also had two cats, Evie and Stevie (the latter was obviously named after Stevie Nicks).

He was so beautiful. He had this magical twinkle in his eye that you just couldn’t get over. He looked like he was one of the sculptors’ in the room’s life work. He was just as much of a piece of art as anything on display in the studio.

When the crowd started to thin, Grace came and found you, still rolling her eyes from something stupid Scott had said, him trailing not far behind. “Hi my love,” she greeted you, kissing your cheek casually as always. “We were getting ready to head out but I can see you’ve made a friend.”

“Harry is the artist behind all these amazing paintings,” gesturing to the long wall displaying his artwork. “This is my best friend Grace,” you said, turning back to him. “And that’s her soon to be ex-boyfriend, Scott,” you laughed and pointed to him staring at a blank white canvas in the corner that was obviously not part of the exhibition.

“Wait,” he began, shaking his head and laughing, pointing accusingly between the two of you. “You two aren’t together?”

“What? No!”

“It’s just that you were holding hands for a while when you came in and then she called you ‘love,’ and then kissed your cheek,” he continued laughing, his cheeks a bright red. It was adorable. You felt your cheeks heat up just as bright red as his.

“Oh my god, no.” You broke out into a fit of giggles of your own.

“Well, in that case, would you like to grab a drink or something sometime?”

***

You decided to order a martini when you got to the bar the next night. You thought it would make you look fancy and you hoped it would impress your worldly date. You had put on your favorite red dress (the one that hugged you in all the right spots and hid the wrong ones), praying he would dress up like you did, and slid carefully onto the barstool. Bouncing your knee nervously, you sipped your drink slowly until you saw his well dressed figure enter the bar, making your heart skip a beat.

He was dressed in high-waisted wide-legged tan pants and a bright red cardigan printed with small white hearts that was held together in the front by a single button, leaving his chest and signature pearl necklace on display. His chest tattoos were now slightly visible, the faces of two swallows looking back at you, as well as what you thought might be some sort of antennae peeking up from his stomach. He also wore an award winning smile and shot you a wink when he spotted you from the entrance of the bar. Once again, he took your breath away.

“Hello darling,” he greeted you as he made his way over. You began to panic when he started leaning into you, relieved when his lips found their way to your cheek and quickly moved to the other. When he kissed your cheeks, it sent sparks through your body. Oh my god, he is so British, you squealed inside your head, unable to suppress your American excitement. “I like your color choice,” he smirked looking between your outfits of almost the exact same red. You could only hope your cheeks didn’t match as well.

“Great minds dress alike,” you remarked, earning a laugh from the gorgeous man in front of you. Turns out, your joke was enough to break the ice. Soon the conversation began to flow freely, without anxiety or trepidation, like you were a pair of souls reunited after lifetimes apart. You were two martinis in when you decided to break the news that the art gallery was not the first time you had spoken.

“I think I have to break something to you,” you giggled, everything seeming a little funny after a few drinks, “the art show was not the first time we met.” His eyebrows knit together in slight confusion so you decided to elaborate. “The night before the show you sent a picture of that painting to a wrong number, and that wrong number was me. I promise it was all a coincidence and I am not stalking you.” You held your breath while you waited a moment with bated breath for a reaction from him, but released the stress that had found its way into your shoulders when his smile returned to his lips.

“I knew you had more interest in Amelia than most people,” he chuckled. Amelia, you repeated to yourself, now having a name for the face of your mystery woman.

“When Grace dragged me to that studio and I saw her again, I just had to know more. But then I met you and got a little distracted,” you flirted, “accidentally” nudging his leg with the point of your stiletto.

“I’m glad I’m just a distraction to you,” he feigned offense, clutching his pearl necklace with the hand that wasn’t hanging onto his neat tequila.

“Meeting you tonight was actually just an elaborate ruse to learn more about your Amelia,” you sarcastically confessed, sending him back one of the winks he had been shooting you all night. Your wink wasn’t met with his typical laugh, but a slightly pained smile that didn’t reach his eyes. You worried you had hit a nerve.

“She’s not my Amelia anymore. Actually, I don’t think she ever was,” he spoke gently, taking a sip of his drink and breaking eye contact for what felt like the first time tonight. Oh no oh no oh no, you began to panic in your head. What did this woman do to him?

“I once had an ex tell me they had cancer so I wouldn’t break up with them,” you offered, forcing a laugh and praying you could brighten up his mood again. Thankfully, it worked, bringing back the crinkles by his eyes that appeared whenever he smiled or laughed.

You breathed a sigh of relief when the rest of the night went smoothly. It was better than smooth actually, it felt easy and exciting. Harry made your heart sing and your stomach flutter. He was a perfect gentleman, walking you all the way home (even when he lived on the other side of the city) and even up to your apartment, insisting he needed to make sure you made it inside safe.

The pair of you were standing in front of your front door when he leaned in and pressed his blushed lips to yours. He tasted like the lime that sat on the rim of his drunk and smelled like shampoo and vanilla. Every hair on your body stood up on point and everywhere he touched you felt like your skin lit on fire; you never wanted this moment to end. He gently held your face and you could feel his lips turn into a smile as he pulled away, his beautiful green eyes meeting yours once again.

“I had a really good time tonight,” he breathed, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

“I think we should do this again,” you said, still catching the breath that he took away.

“I promise you’ll be hearing from me soon. I already have your number,” he chuckled, still beaming. You watched as he walked down the hallway away from you, winking and blowing you a kiss before turning the corner. As soon as you entered the apartment, you slid down your front door, dizzy from the haze he had created in your head. You couldn’t wait to see him again.

***

After that night, you couldn’t believe someone like him kept coming back to someone like you. You insisted you were too boring for someone who had such an incredible personality and background. Yet three months later, he was yours and you were his.

You spent almost all your nights together, crammed into one of your small New York City apartments, wrapped in each other’s arms and hypothetically solving the world’s problems. You had learned in this time that Harry was incredibly intelligent and well spoken, no matter how long it took him to get his words out due to his slow cadence. In your conversations, you had come to the agreement that most of the world’s problems could be solved with a little empathy and that green was definitely the best color.

Tonight you laid naked in his bed, your head resting just above your favorite butterfly, and played with his fingers as you listened to him speak about postmodernism and how it rocked the art world. You didn’t understand a thing he was going on about but you loved to hear him speak, his voice vibrating through his chest and how he pulled on his bottom lip when he was thinking. You scanned the studio apartment from his bed, trying to pay attention but losing that battle. The floor was littered with finished and unfinished paintings leaning up against the walls and you noticed one familiar face you had grown fond of was missing.

“Where did your painting of Amelia go?” you asked when he took a second to breathe during his diatribe.

“I sold it,” he said curtly. You hadn’t talked much more about Amelia after that first night, the woman obviously being a sore spot, but you couldn’t help but wonder what happened.

“Oh, okay. I liked that painting a lot,” you spoke cautiously, trying not to hit whatever nerve you had previously.

“It was nice, but I think she should haunt someone else now,” he said with a sigh. Haunt?, you thought to yourself.

“H,” you began, rolling yourself off him to look him in the eye, “can I ask what happened with her?” You held your breath, afraid you might lose him to the heartbreak again.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s long gone.”

“Harry,” you lightly scolded him by using his full name which you rarely did, thinking back to when you agreed not to keep anything for each other. With a sigh, he began to speak.

“I was with her for a couple months last year and when I look back at it, it was really messy. We fought all the time and kept a lot from each other. But I had my rose colored glasses on and I would go as far as saying I was probably in love with her. I was even looking for engagement rings.” You felt a pang of jealousy within you at the idea of Harry loving anyone else. “That was until I found out that she already had a husband.”

Your heart broke for him after your initial shock, resting your hand on his warm cheek in an attempt to soothe him. He didn’t seem sad recounting the story or at the mention of her like he was before; he was now dealing with the remaining hurt of rejection.

“I painted her while I was still really mad,” he continued. “My original plan was to send it to her husband and tell him what had happened. But I decided that three lives didn’t need to be ruined instead of one. And then I was just kinda stuck with the painting. I thought selling it was a good way to get her out of my life and it’s more productive than lighting it on fire,” he finally said with a light chuckle.

A lot made sense all of a sudden. You now understood why Harry always got a little jealous when he saw other guys looking at you. He would loop an arm around your waist and press a kiss to your cheek while he stared them down. He thought you didn’t notice but you always did. You also understood why he was so open with you about how much he cared about you. It was a good thing you were equally as obsessed with him.

“I’m sorry, H. You didn’t deserve to go through all of that,” you said softly after a moment, unsure of what else you could offer.

“It’s okay. We grow from our past,” he shrugged. “And if I hadn’t painted her, I wouldn’t have found you,” he smiled sweetly, pulling you back into him and pressing his lips onto yours.

***

“Oh my goodness, what are you doing?” you giggled when Harry asked you to close your eyes.

“I have something to show you. Please close your eyes,” he asked again.

“What if I don’t want to close my eyes?” you teased, poking the dimple in his cheek caused by his cheeky grin. He rolled his eyes and began his plea again.

“Close your eyes, please. Do it.”

You gave in this time, closing your eyes and letting your heart flutter in anticipation. Harry knew you loved surprises and often took advantage of that fact. You felt him gently rest his cupped hands over your eyes, obviously not trusting you to not peak (he probably shouldn’t). He pressed himself to your back, urging you to make your way further into his apartment.

“Styles, if you let me walk into something, I swear to god,” you continued your giggling, overcome with excitement. Harry mumbled an ‘Oh, hush,’ in your ear before he stopped you both and lifted his hands away.

Your breath caught in your throat as you took it in. The painting was in Harry’s signature style, layered bright colors and varied textures across the canvas. Staring back was your own face, painted in a bright red monochrome with the exception of the color of your eyes that remained the same. You were posed with a bright smile that crinkled the skin by your eyes and you were wearing the red dress that you had worn that first night at the bar.

“Harry, oh my god. It’s so beautiful,” you managed to get out, still in shock.

“I know you don’t think you are, but are the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met. I wouldn’t want anyone else in the world to be my muse.” You felt as if you could explode or melt with the amount of love you had for this man. You held him up on such a pedestal, and now you knew he did the same for you. “From the moment I saw you, I thought you were a work of art. So, I thought I’d actually make you into one.”

Your cheeks burned from the smile you couldn’t shake if you wanted to and you felt yourself get a little teary eyed. You felt as if you had spent the majority of your life thinking you were nothing special and just another person walking down the street. Harry made you feel like you were the center of the universe. You wanted to love yourself like Harry loved you; like you loved him.

“I love you,” you blurted, small tears rolling down your face, wiped away by Harry’s talented hands.

“I love you too,” he murmured softly, pulling your body to his. “I’ll always have your face hung up high in my gallery.”

There she is!! I hope you enjoyed it!! You can let me know what you think here!! :)

#harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles burb #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fic #harry fan fic #one direction #one direction fan fiction #harryandhockey

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typically-untypical · 3 years ago

Text

Missing Constellations

AU: Artist AU

TW: None that I know of

WC: 975

Date: 8/21/2021

There were many things in this world that Logan enjoyed, museums, debate, space, but modern art was not one of them. He simply didn’t understand it and no matter how his boyfriend tried to explain it to him, Logan simply couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Despite his distaste for the medium, he knew that Janus was an art connoisseur, which was what led him here, standing at an art gallery showing. It was wonderful to watch his boyfriend mingle and make friends. He tried to look at a few paintings to keep himself entertained but eventually, he fell to people watching. There were a lot of people here dressed in elegant clothes, obviously used to the art show scene. He could read the pretentiousness off of half of these people, but there was someone sitting off to the side, dressed in slacks and a patchwork hoodie, with a sketchbook in his hands. Logan was curious as his eyes flittered up to look at people and then back down to the sketch pad.

The few moments that he could see the artist’s eyes he was surprised by the way they shined and sparkled. There was a deep intensity to them. He was transfixed. He wanted to know more about this artist, what made him so passionate, what made him focus so intensely on his art?

“Did something catch your eyes?” Janus was whispering in his ears, strong arms wrapped around him.

“Simply an artist, I don’t want to bother him, but I’m curious.”

“I believe his name is Virgil Montegro, he specializes in surrealist art. Fairly new to the scene, and most of his pieces are purchased by the movie producer Remus Reglia.”

“So he does a lot of macabre pieces?”

Janus nodded, “And a few landscape pieces. You might enjoy those. Do you want to see them?”

“Yes, please, I didn’t know that there were landscape paintings here.”

“You didn’t think that I would take you to an art show with only things that I enjoy, did you?”

“You know I wouldn’t complain if you did. I like seeing you happy.”

Janus smirked but there was a bit of fondness in his eyes.

“You are mocking my interest.”

“Not at all, I simply haven’t seen you this interested in something since you were interested in me.”

Logan blushed deeply, looking away from Janus. It had taken him longer than he wanted to admit to realize that his infatuation with Janus had been more than just ‘interest in a debate partner’. Janus loved to tease him about that.

“I doubt that this is any kind of romantic inclination. I am simply interested in his art.”

“Sure,” Janus chuckled. “You continue to tell yourself that.”

Logan would have frowned at him but found himself in front of the most beautiful spacescape painting he had ever seen.

“You didn’t tell me who painted space scenes.”

“I wanted to see the face you would make when you saw it. I was thinking of purchasing this for us to hang in the bedroom. You know, we have that space above the bed.”

“It would look gorgeous there.” He said with a smile and a nod, “Very well, I will lift my one painting per show rule because I have a feeling you want something else as well.”

“Perceptive as always.”

Janus kissed Logan’s cheek and began to walk off to speak with someone about purchasing the galaxy scene, leaving Logan to marvel at it. He was certain that many of these stars were actually in their correct place, but something tickled in the back of his mind.

“Can I help you?” A rough voice asked from behind him, and Logan turned to see none other than Virgil Montegro, shoulder raised in defense. That simply wouldn’t do. Logan was an admirer, not an attacker.

“No, I was simply admiring the positioning of the stars.”

“Yeah, I tried to get them as accurate as possible, but there were a few I intentionally changed.”

“Fascinating, any reason why?”

Virgil just shrugged, but Logan could tell there was more to the story than that. “I am Logan, by the way, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Logan held out his hand, and Virgil gently shook it. “Same to you. So what brings you here? You didn’t look all that interested in the art.”

“My partner is very interested in art, so I come to indulge him. Listening to him talk after the shows is often a highlight to my week.”

“Oh,” Virgil’s shoulders slumped a little bit and Logan couldn’t help the pull that he felt.

“Would you like to have coffee sometime? I would love to discuss this painting further. Especially since we are purchasing it.”

“But, you have a partner.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t prevent me from going out to coffee with other people.”

The artist bit at his lip, considering it for a bit, the purple fringe of his hair falling into his eyes. “Alright, one coffee, just to discuss the stars.”

“Wonderful.” Logan pulled out his phone, handing it to Virgil with a new contact created.

“Sure,” Virgil muttered, putting his phone number in and closing the app, looking at the background art.

“That’s pretty cool.”

“Thank you, it uses subtle coloring from the polyamorous flag as well as the bisexual flag. My partner had it commissioned for me.”

Virgil’s eyes lit up as he handed back Logan’s phone. “Oh!”

Logan just smiled softly, the slight darkening of Virgil’s cheeks made him smile. “Yes, so, coffee, next week?”

“Yeah, yeah, I would like that a lot.” And he sounded a lot less reluctant this time. Logan smiled, and not because he had a date with a cute artist, but because he had someone he would be able to discuss space with. Of course, that was the only reason.

Tag List:

@tsshipmonth2020 @simplestoryteller @fantasticfangirl21

#Sanders Sides #Sanders Side fic #TSSAUgust #Janus Sanders #Logan Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Analoceit #Untypical Creations

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auroras-blend · 4 years ago

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Road Trip

Bonus Chapter from Leo's POV where he takes Vittoria on a 10-hour car ride to Rome for a vacation. Basically, he's stuck in a car with an eight-year-old for 10+ hours.

Leonardo Borghese was a patient man and prided himself on his ability to stay calm in tense situations. He wore a mask that most artists could only dream of modeling, but his facade was quickly crumbling in the second hour of the ten-hour car ride. “Are we there yet?” asked Vittoria for the sixth time in the last hour.

“No, not yet principessa. Not for a while,” he groaned, looking at the car’s clock, “Eight more hours.”

He had promised to take her to Rome, his birthplace, months ago and now he, unfortunately, had to make good on that promise. Vittoria had seemed tired when she entered the car at four in the morning (she hadn't even had a panic attack), which is why he had forgone giving her Nyquil, but apparently, she had a burst of energy ten minutes into their ride. Apparently, the panic attack had been delayed and she spent the first hour crying and praying, before finally settling down into a conversation. Every single car ride. Whoever killed Giuseppe and traumatized his daughter would pay dearly, especially considering getting her to church was always a two-hour-long affair if he added in the time for trying to get her into the car.

The past two hours had been hell for him and he had eight more to go. Eight was optimistic given his daughter’s small bladder.

Leonardo Borghese didn’t like being in a small shared space with a prattling person. His cellmate hadn’t been as aggravating as Franco, and dear God he’d say it, Franco wasn't as aggravating as Vittoria was right now. “Why don’t you try and go to sleep?”

“I’m not tired!” she said brightly, before rapidly firing a line of questions at him, “How far is Rome? Do we still get to see gladiators fight? What about the lions? Will they have lions?”

“Far enough,” he breathed, “No, we won’t see gladiators fight and there are no lions.”

“They should have lions,” she quipped, “Did you know they had women, gladiators? I don’t think I’d like to be a gladiator, because I don’t like blood. Minerva was a war goddess and she was smart. I read about her in my book, but she’s not my favorite. Do you know who my favorite is Papa?”

Oh, God. “Who is it Vittoria?” he asked, trying to keep a smile in his voice.

“Venus and Diana. I like Venus cause she's the goddess of love and beauty. I play Venus a lot because I’m pretty. Did you know the planet’s named after her?” she asked, not giving him a chance to reply, “And then there’s Diana because she’s the goddess of the moon. She doesn’t date icky boys and turns them into deers! I’d like to do that!”

How am I going to do this for another nine hours? “Who’s your favorite Roman god, Papa? I bet I can guess! Is it Jupiter? Because he’s the king! Did you know a planet is named after him too? It's the biggest one! You're really big, Papa! Did you know I know all the names of the planets now because I remember the Roman gods and goddesses? Sg.na Sagesse taught me a song. I’ll show you!”

This is hell. Vittoria began singing along to the tune, Michael Finnegan: “There are nine planets around the sun, let me name them one by one…”

Can I mute her? “There’s Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars, they have super pretty stars!”

Leonardo was gritting his teeth and focusing on the road. She’ll fall asleep eventually. “Then there’s Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune but wait one moment we’re not done with this tune!”

Why can’t we be done? “Stop right there, please don’t go, make some room for Pluto! There are nine planets around the sun, now you can name them one by one!”

Leonardo gave a fake gasp. “That’s incredible principessa! You’re such a smart girl,” he praised as he watched a proud blush rise to her cheeks.

“Really?”

“Of course! I could never memorize that song like you can,” he said, unknowingly damning himself.

Vittoria gasped. “Oh Papa, don’t say that! You can! I can teach you!”

Shit. “Oh, it’s okay principessa,” he tried to quickly say before she began singing the song again.

***

He considered himself a saint for not snapping at her. Vittoria had sung the planet song close to thirty times before he finally got the hang of it, or at least until she passed out. He knew the song now. There are nine planets around the sun, let me name them one by one… Those damn lyrics were stuck in his head and he couldn't even drown it out with the radio unless he wanted to risk waking Vittoria. Leonardo looked at the clock...seven hours to go...make some room for Pluto...Leonardo sighed at the long road ahead.

***

They had made six pit stops in the last two hours because Vittoria had the smallest bladder. At the sixth stop, they decided to get lunch where he ordered a light meal but allowed her to order a pizza with a glass of milk, even though she begged for a soda. There was no way he’d make that mistake. Vittoria was incredibly chatty with the waitresses, telling them that they were going to Rome and everything they’d see. She could give Franco a run for his money.

“But all the Roman gods are there! Did you know that, Papa? I want to go to the Pantseon first. That’s my very favorite place!” she squealed.

As exhausted and annoyed as he was, he did smile at her excitement. He had been worried that his eight-year-old would be bored out of her mind and would throw an embarrassing tantrum at the museum, but she wasn’t. She’s an academic, just like her father. “Pantheon,” he corrected.

“Oh right! Anyway…” she continued.

Leonardo let himself enjoy the moment and memories he was making with his daughter. He knew she probably didn’t get to go on any road trips when she lived with her mother, and seeing her excited about her first-ever vacation was endearing. Especially when he was the one giving her her first-ever vacation because he had missed so many firsts. She stole those precious moments from me, he thought hatefully. But he had the rest of their lives to be the only one who gave her those special memories.

He had wanted this, a perfect daughter to spoil and who would worship the ground he walked on, but when he had wished for it he hadn’t imagined that he’d be raising her alone. A proper family vacation would have been with a wife and a car full of children, though now that he was in a car with just one child for the past several hours, he was content to keep the number down for the time being. It was a lot of work just caring for her by himself, not that he was incapable, mind you, but he took great joy in being called a “selfless single father” by those around him. Leonardo knew full well that if he were a woman, the words used to describe him would be derogatory.

He could tell the stigma that Vittoria carried around with her when she was raised in the States haunted her. The names she had been called, people refusing to play with her...he truly was, in his mind, the best thing to ever happen to her. He told himself he was acting in her best interest when he took her to Italy to live with him, after all, it's my right, and that he gave her everything she ever wanted and needed. She seemed far better off now than she did then, well with a sprinkle of a few traumatic events, but details, details.

“Are you happy, then?” he asked.

She nodded as her cheeks puffed out with a large bite of pizza. “Slow down,” he said when he saw her trying to swallow quickly so she could speak again.

He didn’t want her to choke. “But then we have to go to our garden and art museum!”

Vittoria was convinced that Villa Borghese and the Borghese Gallery and Museum were their family’s museum and that it only made sense because they were both artists. He let her entertain that notion. Leonardo, contrary to his nature, let his daughter lead the conversation, mainly because he didn't have the energy to contribute. Another three to four hours seemed impossible, but there was still enough daylight for them to use, and they had to check-in at five o’clock. “I can’t wait to be in Rome! We have to take super lots of pictures!” she grinned.

“We’ll take plenty of pictures,” he smiled back.

“You were born there, right Papa?”

“Yes, I was born in Rome,” he smiled.

“I wish I was born in Rome. I was born in stupid Idaho,” she frowned, “That’s a state.”

Idaho, in his opinion, was an ordinary state with unremarkable people. Not fit for Vittoria. When he had visited Rome a while ago, he had changed her birthplace to Rome to better suit her. She wasn’t an ordinary child. “Did you not like Idaho?” he asked, already knowing her answer.

“No. It was boring and the people were mean. I had to do a report on it and people like us because we grow potatoes, but that’s it,” her frown was set for a moment before she broke out into a smile, “My report was the bestest! I always make my first letters capitals and add periods. I’m the only second-grader who remembers!”

“Of course you are. I bet you were the best writer in your class,” he praised.

He had seen her writing samples, and even when she wrote an argumentative piece about throwing Charles to the tigers, her work was still fairly impressive. Writing seemed to be one of her strengths, which was reassuring given that math and reading were not. “I was! I always got gold stars! Mr. Morgan never gave them to Rodney, because he’s a bad writer!” she said the last part with a smug look on her face that she inherited from her father.

Leonardo had begun to notice the striking similarities they shared in their mannerisms and expressions. The way she slipped on her “happy mask” as she called it and the way she forced her eyes to soften when she wanted sympathy over a pointless tantrum. Vittoria was learning to play the game he had set, practiced, and perfected. She’ll never win, but it’s sweet to see her try.

He indulged her with ice cream before they headed back out into the car and onto the road for another few hours of hell. And it was hell. He had created a car ride bag for her, which he praised himself for making, that he had filled with crayons, paper, coloring books, storybooks, a blanket, and snacks that wouldn’t leave crumbs. He swore by it, finding solutions for the “I’m hungry” and “I’m bored” complaints that he insisted other parents adopt as if they hadn’t already thought of that before, because even though he called it a “car ride bag”, it was most certainly a “dad bag” that was a staple of fatherhood.

Leonardo thought it was one of the greatest things he had ever thought of, but he quickly regretted it when Vittoria pulled something out that he hadn’t even known she’d snuck in. She always claimed it helped her calm down. His shoulders tensed when he heard the tune of the London Bridge begin to play. “Is that your music box?” he asked, not bothering to turn around.

“Mm-hm,” she hummed before she began to sing quietly under her breath.

I’m going to kill Signora Bianchi. He looked at her through the rear-view mirror and saw her begin to color in her coloring book of a Greek garden, a pleasant smile on her face as she whispered the lyrics. It was only a few ear grating moments before the tune ended and even fewer moments in between her cranking it up again. Why am I being punished? “Principessa, I’m going to turn on the radio,” he said, reaching for the knob.

“You can’t!”

“Why not?” he sighed with irritation.

“This is my artist music!”

Of course, it is, he thought dryly. “Vittoria-,”

“I promise only for this page!” she swore, “Cross my heart!”

It was his fault. He refused to admit it, but it was his fault for believing her words and letting her play the song. Vittoria was a child who took her sweet old time with her art, so it was hours (twenty minutes) until she was finished with her masterpiece. “And done!”

“Thank Christ,” he muttered under his breath, “I’m turning on the radio now, okay?”

Anything to drown out that godforsaken tune in my head. And for a while, he was blessed with just the music as Vittoria fell into a post-lunch nap. Thank you, God. It seemed the Lord was shining on him because they were less than five minutes out without any problems. We’ll make it there and- “Papa, I feel sick,” Vittoria croaked.

No. His eyes met the small figure behind the rear-view mirror. She was hunched over, clutching her belly, and her face had gone ashy. He had to stop himself from insensitively saying, don’t throw up in the car! The hotel was right in front of them, all we have to do is make it. “Just hold on, a few moments and-,” as he made a sharp turn into the parking lot, the jolt caused her to unleash whatever was in her stomach.

The sound of her hurling was as sickening as the smell of pizza, milk, and ice cream that had been poorly dissolved by her stomach acid which also made an appearance. The sight of it nearly made him throw up, but he was better than that. He had finished parking by the time she had finished expelling her lunch from her stomach. Leonardo gave a shaky sigh as he heard Vittoria start to cry, apologizing furiously. He got out of the car and stretched his legs outside as he hurried over to her door, not taking a moment to breathe in the fresh air. “I’m-I’m sorry, Papa!”

He quickly unbuckled her from her seat belt and pulled her out of the car and settled her on his hip. He wasn’t his father, he wasn’t cruel enough to think that she could’ve controlled it, and he certainly wouldn’t punish her by making her eat it. His chest tightened just a fraction of a second remembering what he was put through, before focusing on the moment he was in. She’s just my fragile little girl. She can't help it. He knew that now, of all times, was an important reminder for her to know that he was the better parent. The one who is her favorite and who loves her most. “I know, I know you didn’t mean it,” he whispered as he felt her head.

A little warm, but she probably just got car sick. He forced his eyes to assess the damage, which was very little considering she aimed incredibly well into the bag. “Oh thank God,” he sighed before frowning.

Of course, that music box is left untouched. Of course, it is! With the exception of a few specks on the leather that could easily be wiped off and the smell that could easily be remedied by airing the car out, there was no damage whatsoever. He had been terrified that she had thrown up on the carpet that he just had cleaned. The mess was quickly taken care of and the bag was thrown out because they could just buy newer and better items later. The check-in process was swift and he wasted no time getting her into the hotel room and washing her off before putting her back in bed. Vittoria was moaning and groaning against the pillows as if she were a Victorian woman on her deathbed. He didn't know whether to roll his eyes or smile. She’s incredibly dramatic. “Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes vulnerable and wide, “For taking care of me.”

“It’s what fathers do,” he said, having her sip a cool glass of water to soothe her burning throat.

“I had fun,” she smiled.

He climbed into the bed next to her and let her lean against him, “You did?”

He had received absolutely no enjoyment in that car ride whatsoever and thought for all intents and purposes that it was a failure. “Uh-huh, except throwing up. I didn't like that,” she gave a weak laugh, “But I had fun with you.”

It occurred to him that he hadn’t snapped at her when he was annoyed, let her talk about things she was interested in, and do things that she enjoyed. Her mother was an irritable and unstable woman who probably would have already yelled at her ten minutes (he was being gracious with that number) into the drive, before breaking down herself. Who would’ve been furious at Vittoria for throwing up in the car and who would cause her to break down into uncontrollable sobs. Leonardo felt overwhelmingly smug that she had a great time with him and that he was the one who made her smile. “I had fun with you too,” he grinned.

Vittoria snuggled against him before falling fast asleep. She’s such a good sleeper. Vittoria’s breathing became soft and suddenly his breaths started to match hers, as his exhaustion caught up to him and lured him into a deep slumber. He had suffered, but she had smiled. And he had made her smile, and in his mind, that was all that mattered.

#leo being a schmuck #no new chapter for a while so here's a bonus?#i try to post on fridays #leonardo borghese #travel #bonus chapter #marilyn winslow #vittoria borghese #she's being cute #i made the planet song especially for this because we're learning about planets in class #PLUTO IS A PLANET #IN OUR HEARTS ♥️#could've posted on ao3

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flowerspecial · 4 years ago

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You Give Him A Tour Around An Art Museum - Mark Imagine

When you arrived at your work that morning, you didn't expect to be called into the manager’s office straight away. You had a slight panic as you tried to figure out why you have been summoned by your manager. You hadn't done anything wrong, well, what you could remember anyway. You always thought that you were a pretty good employee, so to say you were confused was putting it lightly.

“Oh come in, don't worry you aren't in trouble!” Your manager smiled at you, as she could see that you were slightly on edge.

“Okay...is there a reason that you asked to see me?” You asked, not wanting to beat around the bush. Your manager notioned for you to take a seat next to her.

“We have a very special group of people coming in today for a tour. Their manager has asked if someone can guide them round, and I thought that you would be the best person.” Your manager seemed very earnest, and it lowered your racing heart rate just slightly.

“Well, it's nice of you to think of me like that, but surely I am not the best person for the job. I get nervous around people, especially if they are important.” Your manager could tell that you were trying to wriggle your way out of this situation, but she wasn't going to let you.

“Trust me, you will be fine! You are one of the best employees I have!”

“Can I at least know who I am giving a tour to? They’re not like the mafia are they? Or some sort of really important politician?” Your manager laughed.

“No, no. They are a kpop group, they are very popular. They just wanted to look around the gallery before their concert tonight.”

“And they can't do that on their own?”

“Well they need someone to tell them about the pieces! Now, they are arriving in ten minutes, so I suggest that you go and sort yourself out quickly so you can greet them at the door.”

Your manager shooed you away from her office and you followed her instructions as you went to the restroom to sort yourself out. You loved your job, you really did, but you hated giving private tours around the gallery. You always ended up with either really weird people who seemed to take more of an interest in you than the artwork, or know it alls who challenged you every time you gave them a piece of information. You can't say that you knew an awful lot about kpop, the most that you knew was from your friends who seemed to have an obsession over them. In a way though, that made you feel somewhat at ease, because you knew that you wouldn't be anymore nervous around them than you are with everyone else.

When your manager told you that they had arrived, you walked over to the door with a warm smile graced across your face.

“Hello, welcome! I will be your guide for today, if you have any questions please don't hesitate to ask.”

All of the boys smiled at you in gratitude, and it only took you a few seconds to realise who they were. Your friends were huge Got7 fans, and you were almost certain that they were going to their concert that night. You couldn't wait to tell them about this!

Their managers explained to you what you could and couldn't do around the boys, and they told you about the strict time limit that they had walking around the gallery. You felt kinda sorry for the boys that they couldn't just walk around freely with no other worries. But you decided that you would make sure that they see all the best pieces in the gallery, and to use every moment they were allowed to have.

“Okay, well, if everyone is ready would you like to follow me?” You said, notioning for the boys to start walking.

As you walked around the gallery, you remained professional at all times. Honestly the amount of times a day that you repeated the same information, it was second nature to you. You had gotten to the stage where you didn't really have to think about what you were saying, because you just reeled it off like a script.

It was lovely because all of the boys genuinely seemed interested in what you had to say, they all listened attentively and always asked before they could take photographs of the artwork. But you couldn't help but notice that one boy seemed to be listening to you a little bit more than the rest of them. In fact he seemed more interested in you than the artwork.

The other boys started to notice their friend’s behaviour, so they thought it would be best to try and play cupid.

“Hey, are we allowed to split up for a bit? Maybe we could go off in pairs and have a look round. There is just so much artwork, I don't think we will be able to see it all.” One of the boys suggested.

“Oh yeah, of course you can go off on your own! If you don't need me I will just hang back near the entrance, and you can come and find me if you need any help!” You replied.

“I mean, you could do that… But as you can see, there is an odd number of us. So maybe you could be partnered with one of us so everyone has someone to go with?” The boy had a cheeky smile so you could tell what he was up to.

“Sure, I can do that! And who would I be partnered with?” You played along.

“Mark! Do you want to be partnered with our lovely tour guide? You do seem to be hanging on every word!” The boy smirked at who you now know is called Mark. You noticed that Mark was trying to avoid your gaze as he nodded subtly. “Well that's excellent! We will leave you in peace, you two have fun!” With that, the rest of the boys dispersed rather quickly away from the group, leaving just you and Mark standing there.

“Is there any artwork that you are particularly interested in, or maybe a specific time period?” You asked, trying to break the tension a little bit.

“Erm, not really. I will just follow you, you know best!” Mark answered, still not quite meeting your gaze.

You just nodded awkwardly and began to walk towards the next exhibition, with Mark following you very closely behind.

“I’m Mark by the way…” Mark said, as if his friend hadn't just called him by his name moments before. You giggled at his awkwardness and replied by telling him your name.

“Wow, that's a beautiful name. A beautiful name for a beautiful person.” Now you couldn't tell if Mark meant to say that out loud, because he somewhat mumbled it under his breath and once he realised that you heard him, he bit his bottom lip in shyness.

You tried to carry on by continuing to reel off facts and information about the artwork, but you could tell Mark’s mind was elsewhere.

“Have you ever heard of our group?” Mark blurted out. It was clear that Mark was starting to feel more confident as he was now walking beside you instead of just behind you.

“My friends are huge fans, I’m pretty sure they are going to your concert tonight.”

“And what about you, will you be there?”

“Oh, no. I don't think I’ve really listened to you guys. And no offence but your tickets are extremely expensive.”

“Do you want to come tonight?” Mark placed his face on your upper arm, encouraging you to stop walking.

“I’m sorry?”

“If you wanted to come, I could get you in… and your friends obviously, I can get you guys closer to the stage.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I thought it was kinda obvious that I find you attractive… maybe if you saw me perform you might find me attractive too…” The way Mark kept switching between confident and shy was so endearing to you, and you could tell that his intentions were pure.

“I mean, I already find you attractive, but I’m not gonna say no to your concert.” You saw Mark’s eyes light up with your confession.

“Are you serious?! Right okay, if you want to give me your number I can text you when and where I can meet you before the concert.” Mark handed you his phone and you typed in your details. Mark looked so happy with himself that he had managed to get your number, that he was practically bouncing on the spot.

Neither of you had realised how long you had been away from the rest of the group, until one of the boys had come up to you slowly, as if they were trying not to interrupt a moment.

“Mark, our manager says that we need to go.” Mark’s friend said, quietly and edging towards him slightly.

“Damn it, really? Is our time up already?” His friend just nodded at him.

“I will text you in a couple of hours okay? Please come to our concert, I’d really like to see you again.” Mark said to you.

“Of course I will come, I’d love to see you again too.” Mark smiled at you as he placed his hand on your shoulder, it lingered for a moment before he realised that you two had an audience. The other boys were smirking at each other as they watched their friend attempt to flirt with someone.

Finally you guys said your goodbyes, and they all thanked you for being such a good tour guide. Mark was putting on his coat as he edged closer to you so his managers wouldn't notice.

“I’ll see you tonight, I’ll make sure that I look extra good just for you!”

#got7 #got7 imagines #got7 fluff #got7 imagine

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liunaticfringe · 5 years ago

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(via How Lucy Liu became comfortable with the human body through her artwork | Datebook)

It can be an unsettling experience for any art student, particularly one who’s innately demure about nudity, to sketch the human figure from a naked model for the first time. Of course you’re there to look closely at the body, but is it really OK to stare? And how awkward is it if you happen to make eye contact?

“I think I was honestly in shock the first time,” says Lucy Liu, laughing as she recalls her bashfulness at her first life drawing class at the New York Studio School more than two decades ago. “Here was this person displayed and actually comfortable, and everyone’s just looking like it’s nothing, like it’s a wine bottle or bowl of grapes. But I was like, wait a minute! Where’d the real bowl of grapes go?”

The actress who is perhaps best known for playing a sword-slashing yakuza assassin in Quentin Tarantino’s “Kill Bill,” a sexy PI in “Charlie’s Angels” and, most recently, a socialite on the dark comedy “Why Women Kill,” visited the Napa Valley Museum in Yountville on a recent afternoon. Her first U.S. museum exhibition, “Lucy Liu: One Of These Things Is Not Like The Others,” is on view there through April 26.

Few of Liu’s legion of fans have been aware that during her time as an actress she’s had a parallel career as an artist, even though she’s started talking to the press more openly about her art in recent years.

Ever since she was a teenager growing up with her two older siblings and Chinese immigrant parents in Queens, N.Y., Liu has been steadily working in a wide variety of media — broad-stroked figurative paintings, abstract silkscreens, wooden sculpture and meticulous found-object assemblage.

Throughout her acting career, which took off back in 1997 when Liu landed the role of the fierce diva lawyer Ling Woo on the hit series “Ally McBeal,” her art-making practice has been an important, creatively sustaining part of her life.

“I feel an exuberance, and an extraordinary strength when I’m in the studio, working freely and not on a timeline, unlike when you’re on a set and every minute is accounted for,” Liu said. “In the studio, you can suddenly realize 16 hours have gone by and you’ve been in this extended magical moment.”

Liu has exhibited her work in galleries since the mid-1990s, yet she used her Chinese name, Yu Ling, until 2011. “I didn’t use my own name at first because I wanted people to come in with an open mind, a blank slate,” Liu said, noting that she did not want her art to be judged as that of a celebrity hobbyist. “I think (because of some of her hard-edged roles) people expect me to be this hard-ass and my work to be tough.”

Instead, visitors to the Napa exhibition will find that much of Liu’s work, particularly her figurative paintings inspired by Japanese shunga (erotic art popularized in the 17th century), is full of feeling and deeply personal, inspired by her own struggle to come to terms with an upbringing in which any frank discussion of sexuality was taboo.

In a high-necked, billowing white dress, high heels, red lipstick and an above-the-shoulder bob haircut, Liu, 51, sat in a quiet corner of the high-ceilinged main gallery surrounded by her recent large-scale paintings — anonymous, fleshy nudes and faceless family portraits (including a nostalgic one, re-created from a family photo, showing Liu as a toddler in a lavender coat during an outing to Flushing Meadows). A massive riff on Willem de Kooning’s 1950s “Women” series fills the back wall, and Liu’s meticulously crafted “Totem” series of small hand-embroidered spinal columns hangs in an adjacent gallery.

Earlier in the afternoon, Liu was the keynote speaker at the Wine Country museum’s Phenomenal Women fundraising luncheon. She used the opportunity to discuss with the majority-female audience her art-making practice and the themes that run through her work: displacement, a search for belonging and self-discovery, acceptance of oneself as a sexual being, and using art to overcome powerful familial and cultural inhibitions.

She spoke openly about forging a career in the arts that has baffled her parents (her father died in 2017) and how, through her art, she has struggled to overcome her deeply ingrained, and distinctly un-Hollywood, modesty.

“I didn’t know anything about the male body, I didn’t even know about the female body” as a young woman, Liu said. “Growing up, we spoke to each other in Chinese at home, and we didn’t talk about bodies, ever. We didn’t expose ourselves or look at each other. I’d never seen my parents nude. When I got my period, I was like, ‘What’s going on?’ I was so clueless about everything. I think that through the painting of these large bodies and the genitalia, I was able to start to understand that it’s OK. It’s not taboo. It’s not a dirty thing to be a woman and look at a female body or a male body and be curious about it.

“When I started in this business as an actress, people would make fun of me when I was doing a costume fitting because they would have to build a special section for me so that I could change in there. Working on ‘Ally McBeal,’ unlike everyone else who would just take off their clothes no matter who was there, they were like, ‘Let’s bring in the screen, it’s Lucy’s fitting.’ Oh my God, it was so disruptive for them because I had to go behind the screen every time I even wanted to change my shirt.”

Liu first started experimenting with collage as a young teenager “using just magazines, newspapers and glue stick,” she said. “That was my first discovery of art. I didn’t have brushes or paint, and we never went to museums. I didn’t even know what I was doing at first, but I knew I had to express myself.”

The actress and artist, who has never married, moved back to New York from Los Angeles 10 years ago. She paints regularly in a studio in Jersey City.

“As I progressed in the business in the past 20 years, I’ve become so much more comfortable with myself,” Liu said. “I have a 4½-year-old son now, and I let him run around naked, I let him see me naked. I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable with the human body.

She glanced around the room at her painting of two women kissing, another of an undressed woman, reclining with her arms above her head, seemingly utterly relaxed. “We’re all just a part of nature.”

“Lucy Liu: One Of These Things Is Not Like The Others”: Art exhibit. On view through April 26. Open 11 a.m. to 4 p.m., Wednesdays through Sundays. The Napa Valley Museum Yountville, 55 Presidents Circle, Yountville. 707-944-0500. www.napavalleymuseum.org

#Lucy Liu #Napa Museum #SF Chronicle #art #artist #legend #Ally McBeal

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writtenbyalex-nicole · 3 years ago

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The Art of Discipline

by Alex-Nicole Edwards

Miriam Constanza stands in front of her latest art piece; beside it is one of her preliminary sketches.

October 10, 2017

In Miriam Costanza’s Manhattan studio there is hardly an empty space. Two walls of the small apartment are covered by piles of canvases and wooden frames, as well as the small pull- out bed that she sleeps on. There are several mismatched tables scattered about. One of them is painted a striking primary blue and is accompanied by two matching chairs. Yellowy-tan hardwood floors run through the room. Most of these things are heavily splattered with an assortment of paint. Eleven gallon-sized buckets of acrylic paints and gels are lined up against a white wall; one of the few spaces clear of unintentional splatter. On this wall are several of her finished paintings. In the middle of this little gallery is her most recent creation; a canvas spanning nearly six-and-a-half by five feet, and painted with sloping lines of yellow, black, and gray.

Costanza is a painter who specializes in geometric abstraction, an art style “based on the use of simple geometric forms placed in non-illusionistic space and combined into nonobjective compositions,” according to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Her work has been on display at the Abrons Arts Center, the Caelum Gallery and, most recently, at the Consulate General of Argentina in New York. Unlike other geometric painters, she doesn’t rely on straight lines but, instead, employs curves and fluidity in her pieces. Her minimalistic style of art is described as “a constant expression of her emotions in their most simplified state,” by one of her daughters, Chiara Mecozzi-Garcia.

Her paintings are a “moment where color, canvas, shape, construction, and feeling collide in each piece to arrive to the simplest and purest form of her expression,” Mecozzi- Garcia wrote. Constanza describes her own work as “a minimalist geometry where the curved lines in constant movement flow like energy in and out of the canvas, and get lost as imaginary waves in the curvature of space.”

Costanza grew up in the small city of Mendoza, in Argentina, and was always immersed in a creative environment. Her father sketched and built Formula Two race cars, and her mother designed and made clothes. She began experimenting with painting on different surfaces like wood and fabric at around the age of six or seven. Since she was five her father would take her to see car races, which she credits as one of the earliest inspirations for her artistic style. The curves of the track, the fluidity of the movement, and the bright and colorful design of the cars influenced her to incorporate sloped lines and bold, dual color schemes into her paintings.

Although she had been interested in geometric art since the beginning, Costanza moved to Miami 20 years ago to focus, instead, on painting landscapes. While she notes that her style of landscape painting was also very geometric, she still felt more compelled by geometric abstraction. It wasn’t until after she moved from Miami to New York City, eight years ago, that she began to get back to her roots as a geometric painter.

“The city changed my mind,” she said.

For her, one of the city’s biggest inspirations was the architecture of the buildings, especially churches and cathedrals. The arches and geometric shapes helped bring back her interest in geometric art and pushed her to change fields again. The different atmosphere of New York, compared to Miami, also helped her find her way.

“The energy of the city was totally different from where I was living before,” she said.

In New York it was easier for her to connect with other artists and other people in the industry. While being more connected helped her, the independent environment of the city helped as well. She says that staying inside all day to work on her craft, rather than going out to have fun, is what helped her attain her current level of artistry. She attributes her satisfaction with her level as an artist to her focus and dedication to her work. To her, discipline is the most important aspect of being an artist. She works for at least eight hours a day and remains in silence for most of it, in order to get to a place – mentally and emotionally – in which she can create.

“The silence is very important. The discipline, the [loneliness], this is very important for an artist,” she said.

In order to come up with an idea for a piece, she first needs to see her medium. Before she even begins to sketch, she must have the canvas – which she builds for herself out of the linen fabric and wooden planks she keeps stored in the corner of her studio – in front of her. Then she hangs the canvas up on the wall and sits in front of it in silence, until an idea comes to her.

“When I see in front of me this blank canvas without anything, I imagine all the lines,” she said.

Because geometric artists do not have a model or reference to go off of, the ideas must come entirely from within. Although she believes that having discipline is very important to being successful, Costanza said that the process of creating art is both an emotional and a spiritual one. The concept for a piece, including the color scheme, comes to her based off of her feelings. She just has to be focused enough to receive them.

“[With] this kind of art you don’t have any reference. All [of] this is a feeling that you feel, it’s in your soul and you have to wait [for] the moment,” she said.

#text #article #profile story #non-fiction

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inkykeiji · 4 years ago

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Can I have a matchup pls?, in a relationship I need my own space, I’m that 'ride or die' friend, I have an old soul (like 1700 old) I love museums, art galleries, literature and specially greek myths, but I’m also down to go to an arcade, the park, or an amusement park, or just hang out, generally I’m laid back, also I will aggressively support you, ready to fight anyone, I like (almost) all kind of music, really open minded, sarcasm is my second language, I swear a lot, Im actually pretty smart but I waaayyyy to lazy to make an effort, same with physical activities, I’ve lost my will, touch starved but hate physical contact (lmao), need validation (sometimes dsjdn), I loooove horror/supernatural things, love the adrenaline, aaaaand on the physical side, I have an undercut my short hair covers it, also have both my ears stretched, I think that’s it SRRY THIS IS TOO LONG OMG SJZBSJ

it totally isn’t too long at all!!! <3 thank u for providing so much information!! 🥰

i match you with ⇢ akaashi keiji! i think the two of you would bond over your love for art and literature, and would actively seek out ways to continue learning and acquiring knowledge together, including what you can teach each other. he’d be able to push you (gently) to make an effort and would provide you with just the right amount of validation, when you need it, while you’d be able to get him to loosen up a little and appreciate the small things in life! oh and his dry humour would compliment your sarcasm perfectly.

what you carve into your pumpkin ⇢ the headless horseman

which halloween candy you eat the most of ⇢ all three types of hershey’s chocolate bars (milk, dark, and white)

couples costume ⇢ a plague doctor and a rich (but sick) patient carrying around a bloody handkerchief. y’all would add a bit of a twist to it: ur costume would definitely have blood on it, like you’ve been coughing up blood yk? v creative, v cool

how you celebrate halloween ⇢ a 17th century inspired masquerade charity ball, held at some sort of museum or art gallery (most likely the one you frequent the most)!

clari’s 1k halloween matchups! 👻

#u guys would be a ✨POWER COUPLE✨#intelligent and sarcastic and just goals all around #soooo cute!!!!#thanks for supporting me!!#n happy halloween 🎃 <3 #inky.1k

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innately-pretentious · 4 years ago

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I was hoping I could have a ship for DPS, Harry Potter, Stranger Things, and Ferris Bueller's Day Off if it's not too much. I've got golden blonde hair and I'm about medium height, just above average. I have light freckles on my nose and forehead. I love to read and write. I'm working on writing my own novel as well and hoping I can get it published soon. I'm a total romantic, probably a little too much so. I pride myself on my intelligence. I'm an introvert and sometimes a little shy.

I ship you with Todd!

The two of you would make the sweetest couple. You both have similar personalities, therefore it was only a matter of time before something pushed the two of you together. He constantly saw you around the town near Welton, and both being introverts, it took a while for one of you to actually make a move. It was Charlie who literally shoved him in your direction and forced him to ask you out on the spot. You couldn’t help but smile as he blushed and asked you to dinner that evening, his hands were shaking in his pockets the whole time.

He is very hesitant to do grand romantic gestures, but that is not to say he doesn’t display how much he cares about you at any given moment. He knows that you definitely have a romantic side and is always racking his brain to show you how he feels. His family does have money, therefore whenever you see him you always come home with some expensive bunch of flowers, however he loves to find ways to surprise you instead of just throwing money at material things.

One of his more memorable moments was when he first asked you out on a date. He knew you were somewhat of a hopeless romantic yourself, he spent the majority of the day brainstorming with Neil and Knox about what to do. He took the whole day decorating the cave where they held the dead poet meetings, taking a trip into town to get some food and making Charlie get him a bottle of wine. You saw how much effort he put into all of this, candles decorated every surface giving the cave a soft glow. You spent the entire evening talking about your favourite writers and what you wanted to do in the future. Honestly he could watch you for hours, watching you face light up as you passionately talk about what interests you.

When he finds out you are writing a novel, he is beyond impressed, jumping at almost every opportunity to read what you wrote. You often come to each other for advice, whenever you have writers block he is always there to help you come up with new ideas, he is almost too hesitant when it comes to criticise your work. You often have to force it out of him, even if he insists it is perfect on your first draft. You are often there for him as well, helping him through his anxiety or self deprecating thoughts. Calming him down when he is overwhelmed, allowing him to cling to your jumper as he buries his head in your neck, softly telling you what’s wrong. He often thinks it’s selfish how needy he is, but you are one of the only people he lets his guard down for, he is grateful to have you.

The song I associate with you guys would be ‘White Winter Hymnal’ by Fleet Foxes.

I ship you with Cedric!

This is honestly such a cute match! Being one of the most popular boys in his year, he never really had trouble attracting the attention of girls. However he noticed you were more reserved than his other classmates, but he knew who you were nonetheless. Priding yourself on your intelligence is something he respected and loves your passion for knowledge. Hardly being shy about asking you out, he had no problem approaching you inviting you on his next trip to Hogsmead. He couldn’t help but smile at the way your cheeks turned slightly more pink, relieved when you agreed to go with him. You didn’t notice it at the time, but as he turned the corner he did a slight victory jump, already thinking up ideas for what the two of you could get up to.

He loves your kind and caring nature, wanting to know more about you and determined to make you come out of your shell more, making you want to share more of yourself with him. He is pleasantly surprised when you show him your more outgoing side. He remembers the first time you really made him laugh, with his head tilted back wiping his eyes as he tries to stifle his amusement. Looking back at you as if you are the only one in the room, it’s the moment he realises he made the right choice.

Something you learn to love is his more extroverted nature, he always knows the best idea for a date. One of his favourites was when you agreed to go flying with him to watch the sunset. Being a romantic is something you both share, however he is slightly more subtle, but this didn’t stop him from spending most of the afternoon flying on his broom searching the grounds for the best place to observe the view! Settling on a small platform on a steep hill, you could see the sun slowly set over the long, winding river. You let you head rest on his shoulder whilst he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, softly tracing patterns into your arm. He wished you could stay like that forever.

He doesn’t focus too heavily on looks, however he is undeniably attracted to you. Your golden blonde hair is stunning to him, he often finds himself absentmindedly combing his fingers through it as you lay on his chest, just enjoying each other’s company. He often jokes how it is the same as his house colours, mumbling how is is sometimes difficult to find you in his house stands at a quidditch match! Another thing he loves is your freckles, he always recognises them as something special about you. Brushing his thumbs across your cheeks whilst sitting in the Hufflepuff common room, he says they remind him of constellations he used to find at as a kid.

The song I associate with you two would be ‘Baby I’m Yours’ by Arctic Monkeys.

I ship you with Jonathan!

You two would work so well together! You both had known each other pretty much all your lives, growing up a few streets away you were no stranger to the Byers family. As time progressed you both began harbouring feelings for each other, the two of you being to shy to say anything in fear of ruining you friendship.

You were the only one who really knew him, through and through. One night while you were hanging out in his room after school, listening to his current favourite record, he felt more confident than he ever had. He leans forward, closing the gap between the two of you, gently placing his lips on top of yours. You were slightly taken aback but returned the kiss, glad that he finally had the courage to make the first move.

Will and Joyce always knew you two would end up together, with neither one of them really being surprised when you started holding hands or sharing a kiss goodbye. Joyce can’t help but smile when she first notices you holding hands under the table at dinner, giving you a wink when she sees you staring, wordlessly telling you that she approves. Will was the first to know about the two of you getting together, he literally had never seen his older brother so excited! They share everything together and this was no different, after you left Jonathan was still filled with adrenaline after your first kiss. Bursting into his brother’s room and stumbling over his words as he told him what just happened. Will couldn’t help but smile and wrap his arms around him, seeing him truly happy for the first time in a while, he could feel the happiness radiate off him.

He always has a small smile on his face when you link arms or hold hands while walking into town. He is so proud to be able to walk next to you, showing you off to the world. You both have found a little routine, stopping at both the record and book shops to have a quick browse whilst running errands. He loves to watch your excitement as you look through the latest selection of books, listening as you ramble on about their history or the authors life. When he has the spare money he always buys a few for you, even when you insist it is not really necessary. Not that he minds, if he has the means to spoil you, why not? You would always make sure to try and return the favour, occasionally buying him a new vinyl that you can listen to together.

The song I associate with you guys is ‘Wonderland’ by Big Country!

I ship you with Ferris!

This is definitely an opposites attract situation! You never really took much time to notice Ferris at first, you being consumed in your studies, not wanting to engage with someone so carefree and reckless. You of course knew who Ferris was, but you always thought of him as a slight show off and therefore never really took the time to get to know him. That is until you were both put in the same class, with fate deciding to seat the two of you next to each other. He was taken aback by your slightly reserved attitude, his usual one-liners didn’t seem to have much of an effect on you. He expected himself to dislike the way you brushed them off as you focused on your work, but it just made him more intrigued and motivated him to try harder! After weeks of his subtle flirting and wise crack jokes, one of them actually made you smile. Finally managing to win you over, he decided to ask you on a date, which you gladly accepted.

He does have a bit of a wild side and knows how to have fun. He often finds you stressed about work or overwhelmed with assignments, he may not seem like it but he does have an innate knowledge of when you are being to hard on yourself, always being the one to drag you away from your desk and on an adventure, you even skip school for the first time with him. And although your times in the city are usually filled with sneaking in and out of places you are definitely not allowed to be, he always does at least one thing he knows you will love. Allowing you to spend hours looking around the museum or art gallery. Debating different works or artefacts, he always provides a great outside perspective, always keeping you on your toes!

You also are the one to stop him from doing something too stupid, convincing him that he doesn’t need to go on some crazy adventure to impress you, trying to get him inside for a quiet night in. Although he would not outright admit it, one of his favourite activities is just watching movies with you. Picking out snacks at the shop and going to blockbuster to pick out a movie, legs tangled together as your eyes are glued to the screen. He does spend a significant amount of time watching you instead of the film, admiring you out of the corner of his eye.

The song I associate with you guys would be ‘Restless Year’ by Ezra Furman!

Sorry this took so long to write! I’ve been super swamped with work, but hope you like it. Also let me know how your novel is going, when you’re finished I’d love to read it! ❤️

#ship #ship request #matchup #matchup request #harry potter ship #ferries bueller ship #harry potter #dead poets society #todd anderson imagine #dead poets society imagine #cedric diggory imagine #stranger things #jonathan byers imagine

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tyrustrash · 5 years ago

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Tu Color Para Pintar

Shadyside, a small no-name town in the middle of nowhere. People have assumptions about small town: that they’re quite and peaceful, everyone knows each other, and that the people are the kindest. Wrong. Shadyside is called Shadyside for a reason. Everyone is shady, from toddlers to the senior citizens. The shadiest can even be your own best friends, and even worse, your own crush. Cyrus currently is laying face down on his bed. He refuses to believe that not only is Andi attending some fancy frou-frou art school for the summer, but TJ is dating Kira. Yeah, about TJ, he didn’t really have to say he was dating her, but come on, it’s obvious. They’re always together looking happy, they went to his special spot, and seemed they didn’t want him around. Although TJ said they weren’t, it didn’t help that he has yet to hang out together, alone. His whole body hurts from thinking TJ cared about him. It feels like a thousand shards of glass are stabbing him and there’s nothing he can do. It didn’t matter anyway; he could deal with that kind of pain. The pain he couldn’t handle was his broken heart. He had spent weeks with the jock building a friendship like he has never had before. This one is different from Jonah because of the memories they have. Jonah was always busy with girlfriend troubles, which Cyrus would know nothing about, but TJ helped him with things no one else bothered with. They had talks where they told secrets that no one else knew. TJ was like a completely different person around him, like he was being his genuine self. The dual personas TJ had made Cyrus even more interested in him. Heck, the best thing TJ has ever done was stand up for Cyrus and helped raise his confidence. Out of all his time with Andi and Buffy, they never did anything close to what TJ has done. The only bad thing TJ has done was steal his heart. The gun incident doesn’t count since it was Blondie’s fault. TJ, however, had to strut into his life with all his hoodies and be so dang adorable. The time together eventually had an impact on Cyrus’s mind, and heart. It wasn’t until a few short weeks ago when feelings changed, in a good way. Their friendship felt like it should be something more, but Cyrus knew it was just one sided. Even though Cyrus was a fool to ever believe for a second that TJ was a bad guy, he now feels like a complete clown. The whole Kira situation is where things went south. For Andi, it hurt a little less. Although they’ve been friends since kindergarten and have done amazing, and illegal, things with her, he wasn’t as hurt since he imagined this day happening for a while now. Andi is a talented artist. Her works are unique and definitely belong in a museum. Her trashing stereotypes piece was even worthy of the Shadyside Academy of Visual Arts sending an acceptance application. Which then she accepted to attend for the summer term. Sure, he would rather her go there for three months rather than the entire school year, but what is he going to do for the summer? Him, Buffy, and Jonah don’t make the most exciting group. They almost relied on Andi for what they were doing. And with TJ, that’s basically over. So now he’s basically going to spend his summer at home, more than likely helping his parents with work. Just as he was about to give up sobbing and accept his fate of the worst summer ever, his phone chimed. The laziness is too strong right now as he simply throws a pillow at his nightstand in hopes of it actually doing anything. When the phone chimes again, Cyrus decides to be the most active he has been that day and picks up his phone. A text from Andi. An urgent one, as indicated by the lack of emojis, the over usage of exclamation points, and it being all caps. Apparently, she needs him at the art studio. After grunting for a few seconds, Cyrus laid back down and tossed his phone to the end of the bed. Andi probably wants to show off another project before she leaves and see her friends one last time. He wants to support her, but it’s getting harder to feel any sort of happiness. His world is falling apart by the day and it seems like there’s no hope of it getting better. Later, a loud knock on his door interrupted his thoughts of whether or not he’ll find a boyfriend. Once again, Cyrus threw a pillow with the expectation of it working. Instead, the soft thud was sort of a cue to let the person come in. Andi walked in, which made Cyrus cover his face with his dinosaur plushie. Andi walked into the room and gently placed herself on the end of the bed. Her expression is clearly upset with a bit of worry. “Cyrus, why didn’t you come?” Cyrus rumbled a bit before saying something inaudible due to the plushie over his mouth. Andi taps his arm. He removes the toy and sits up a little. “Why would I?” Andi wasn’t expecting this kind of response, or this behavior. He was always so cheerful and enthusiastic. Anything related to his friends he was always there for. “Did you read the text?” “Not really.” Cyrus says as he lays back down. Any feelings that he previously had are long gone. Seeing Andi now not sadness, but emptiness. “I’m not in the mood to do anything.” “The art gallery opened a new exhibit!” “What’s it about?” “Nothing!” Cyrus raised an eyebrow. He sits up on his elbows and looks Andi in the eyes. “Huh?” Andi excitedly got off the bed and walks around the room. She overexaggerates her hand movements as she talks. “It’s nothing, but it’s everything! I can’t believe they would think of this, but it’s genius! Some might call it lazy, but I call it creative.” “What exactly are you talking about?” Cyrus gets up and attempts to keep up with Andi. “The nothingness.” Andi continues. “It’s an entire area of white. White walls, white blocks, white accessories. Anyone can paint, design, draw, or do whatever they want! I texted you to see if you wanted to try creating something. Probably with me, Buffy, and Jonah.” Andi finally calms down and Cyrus places his hands on her shoulders. The two lock eyes, seemingly calming Andi down. Cyrus, however, has those teary eyes. “Andi, I’m not in the mood for anything.” Andi sighed and looked at her feet. She was, for once, at a lose for words. Her whole life Cyrus was by her side and would do anything if she asked. He was always there for his friends. As she looks into his eyes, she can see something that she’s not used to. Fear. “Well,” Andi starts to say. “How about you go and do something yourself? You can express what you’re feeling. Like what I did with the stereotypes.” Cyrus shakes his head. “Don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Why not?” Cyrus takes a deep breath. He turns away from Andi and faces his dresser. Pictures of him and TJ covered the top. Each one was from a special moment they had together. From when Cyrus first visited TJ’s job, when they had a picnic at the swings, and when they had Valentines Day at The Spoon because they didn’t have dates and went as friends. Instead of smiling from looking at the pictures, it only made him cry. “I’m afraid that if I do anything else, my world would get worse. I’m afraid of letting certain people know how I feel, or even tell them who I really am. Problem is, I don’t know how or how they’ll feel. I have a dream that might never come true now, and it’s got me feeling this way.” Cyrus told her. “I this this might not make that much sense, but I don’t how to express myself.” “How about with art?” Andi asks. She pulls out paint supplies from her bag and places them on the dresser. “The world revolves at your heart. Today you can create your best version and trust your intuition. There is no dream that you can't reach. You have everything to make it happen. And that everything is in your mind and nothing can go wrong. Say what you keep in your mind. Lights shine when you shout your truth. There's no more time, don't forget. It's your story, you decide your color to paint.” Although he wasn’t one hundred percent sure what she said, he understood it all. He looks at the supplies. Not to surprisingly, the paint tubes are the colors of the rainbow. He takes another deep breath. With one look at Andi, he nods. Next thing Cyrus knew was that there’s a blank canvas in front of him. Andi had taken him to the art gallery and had given him extra supplies. When they arrived, the exhibit already had work done to it, including a mural from Walker. They were lucky enough to get this generous space. After spending more than enough time analyzing the supplies, Cyrus finally started working. He picks up the red and splashes it across the canvas. His face matches the color by how frustrated he is. The only thing he can think of in this moment is Kira, and how she came between him and TJ. Next is orange. Then yellow. And then green. And lastly blue. Blue has been said is the warmest color by some, but Cyrus can only feel coldness. Now TJ is on his mind, but only the terrible moments. When he saw TJ giving Kira a piggyback ride, to where they were hugging, and the worst moment of them all. TJ and Kira at the swing set. His swing set. Looking at his piece, he feels like something’s missing. Yeah, the purple. He adds a dash of purple to the bottom and attempts to blend as much as he could. After taking a final look at his creation, he smiled for the first time in days. The painting looks like one huge, deconstructed, extra flavorful rainbow. A few peace signs and hearts circled around the edges. Two boys are in the center, holding hands. One of the boys is holding a muffin, the other wearing a hoodie. Cyrus was so into his painting that he didn’t hear someone approach from behind. A tap on his shoulder startled him, also causing him to turn around. His face lit up, both in shock, fear, and happiness. His knees weakened and he could barely stand up. Now he was wondering who invited TJ. TJ rubs the back of his neck. He couldn’t make himself look Cyrus in the eyes. Cyrus was the first to say anything. “Why are you here?” “Andi invited me?” TJ answered a tad later. Although not looking directly at him, Cyrus could tell he’s upset and needs to say something. “She said you were creating something, and I wanted to be here for support. Like a good friend. If I still am your friend.” At those words, he managed to look at Cyrus. Cyrus could see tears forming. This reminds him of the gun incident and how TJ was acting afterwards when he lost his other friends. Even though Cyrus couldn’t take seeing TJ this way, it felt good given how TJ had made him feel. TJ looks at the painting and awes. “This is amazing. You sure you aren’t an artist?” Cyrus chuckles a little. His cheeks blush but hides it. “It’s just what I’m feeling. And who I am.” Upon further inspection, TJ notices the two people in the center. His face becomes confused as he tries to figure out who they are. Obviously, one was Cyrus, but had mixed thoughts regarding the second boy. “Who’s the other boy?” Now Cyrus was completely red. He face palms himself hard enough to leave a bruise, but he didn’t care about that. All he cares about now is that his crush is literally standing in front, and asking about, his basically coming out painting showing that he wishes the two of them would date. He wishes one of his parents were here to help calm him down. “It’s you.” Cyrus faintly says. His voice cracked a little and was a pitch higher than normal. “Surprise. I’m gay.” “Hey, gay. Me gay too.” The next sounds out of Cyrus’s mouth definitely weren’t English words or sounds. It was more like the random sound effects from cartoons. He attempts cleaning out his ears with his fingers to make sure nothing was clogging them. Sure enough, his ears are clean. TJ wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Yeah, I’m gay too. You couldn’t tell? I also have the biggest, dorkiest crush on you. Why do you think I’ve been upset when I thought you wouldn’t be my friend anymore?” Cyrus’s mouth stands wide open. It took him a minute, but he finally found the right word to say. “Same.” They both laugh. Cyrus looks around and sees an empty area in the corner. He gets TJ’s attention and nods in that direction. “Wanna create something together?” “It’s a date.”

#andi mack #tyrus #fanfiction

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karolinium · 5 years ago

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A mini Prague guide

I know this isn’t studyblr related, but here’s my mini Prague guide for @reviseandreview (and anyone who is interested :) I could write for hours and hours, but these are my absolute favourites.

Getting around:

Prague’s exchange offices are really bad, the most credible one is this one (Praha Exchange)

there’s a really good public transport system, you can take the metro, buses or trams, a lot of the places are in walking distance (I would recommend you walk, it’s really beautiful getting lost and discovering new places).

This or this app is really good, they show you the timetable + map (stops, where you are going etc.)

Tickets: you can buy them at the main station or in newsstands (not all though, they will have a sign or sticker). The tickets are for 30min, 90min, 24h or 72h, the price varies accordingly. I think the 24h one is the best.

You can also get around on special pink bikes called Rekola, although I was always scared of the trafic, so I never used them. (You will need an app for that).

What to see:

there’s a lot of touristy things you can do, see the Wenceslas square, see the Charles’ bridge (which is super crowded all the time), Prague Astronomical Clock, Prague Castle - just pick what you like the most, everything is really beautiful and depends on what you want to see. Just know that Prague is always very crowded...

Faculty of Arts of the Charles’ University - you can walk here from the Old town square and in front of you will be a great view of the Malá strana and Prague castle. I loved this view during my studies there.

Náplavka - this is the bank of the river Vltava. If you are going to be in Prague over the weekend, there’s a great farmer’s market, they sell locally grown fruits and veggies, but also coffee, soups, sweets, soaps, wooden dishes etc. You need to get a fried bread with pesto, it’s the best! And you will need cash for this.

Vítkov - this is a hill in the district Žižkov and if you walk through the park all the way up to the monument, you will have (almost) the entire Prague in front of you. It’s very close to the main station and there’s a cycle track that leads there, so you can walk there.

Malá strana - this is a very beautiful (and my favourite) district on the side of the river where there’s the Prague castle. Cross the river by walking on the Most legií and go right - you will find little streets, colourful houses and a lot of cafés, greenery and little shops.

Valdštejnská zahrada - in the middle of Malá strana, there’s a beautiful hidden garden, with peacocks, flowers and benches. One of my favourites.

Vojanovy sady - right next to it is another garden, a little oasis of peace.

Coffee/snacks/breakfast/quick lunch

don’t get the trdelník from the stands you will see everywhere. it’s overpriced and not really worth it

my fav cafés: Kampus Hybernská (very cute, a lot of plants, you will need cash), Urban Café (really good chai latté + a lot of plants), Prádelna café (you can sit outside, look around + they have really good soups), Super Tramp Coffee (really good coffee + place), Café Neustadt, Café tout va bien (I’ve never been but it should be great), Kavárna Slavia (maybe a little pricey, but you should stop for tea because it’s beautiful + all the writers and politicians used to meet there in 20th century) and a lot more, just walk around :)

the best ice cream EVER (I swear!): Créme de la Créme, Zmrzlinář, Angelato - you can’t go wrong with these ones

snacks: Antonínovo pekařství (just GO there, they have the best bread with their homemade spread, Czech buchta filled with curd or plum butter (doesn’t sound good but it’s super delicious) or Czech koláček. Also a good breakfast spot.

breakfast/brunch: Spižírna 1902, Coffee Room (they have the best banana bread and avo on toast), CafeFin, Eska, Café Jen (they have the best Míša řezy)

lunch: Burrito Loco (a nice mexican fast food, I love their quesadillas), Dhaba Beas (Indian and vegan food), Wokin (noodles, you can create your own meal), Moment (vegan) and a great option (Wed-Sat) is farmer’s market at the Náměstí Jiřího z Poděbrad - they have vegan options too.

Museums:

definitely check the website of the National Gallery before you come - they have a lot of locations and lot of great exhibitions!

Gallery of Prague on the Old town square, there’s a Warhol, Dalí and Mucha exhibition.

Leica gallery (check website beforehand) - this is a tiny photography gallery, really good.

Shops:

Shakespeare and Sons - a really nice bookstore with English books (also second-hand books).

Koh-i-noor - Czech stationery brand, they have a lot of coloured pencils and just a lot of beautiful stationery in general.

Papelote - my fav stationery shop ever! Everything is from recycled paper and handmade - they sell notebooks, stickers, journals, diaries, photo albums. You should definitely check this out!

BezObalu - literally translates to WithoutPackaging, a zero waste shop. They have the traditional stuff (chickpeas, rice, flour etc.) but also zero waste bathroom products like soaps and bamboo toothbrushes etc.

Analogue - a film photography shop - they sell old cameras, film, instax cameras and have a cute dog Arina as a part of staff.

Vnitroblock - a café + design shop, a cool place to hang out.

If you have time to spare:

Kino Aero or Kino Světozor - little cinemas with good films, English with Czech subtitles.

YogaMovement - my favourite and the most beautiful yoga studio. Most classes are in english, you can have tea there and just chill + you just have to bring your clothes, yoga mat, shower gel and towels are provided.

Again, I could go on and on, there’s so much to see, drink and eat, but these are my absolute favourites, my must-gos. If something crosses my mind, I will update this list.

#mine #prague #travelguide #pragueguide #recommendation #academicbrainfood #inspiration

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zazzyzoo · 5 years ago

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Alice celebrates her heritage!

Hi, everybody! It's me, Alice, and today I've got an important message for you: LEARN YOUR HOMETOWN'S HISTORY! I promise you, even if you live in a plain little town, the story is more interesting than you think. Your town is a microcosm of world history. If you trace your home's timeline, you get an up-close look at an example of the larger picture.

Take my hometown of Dayton, for instance. Here's a story that goes from prehistoric glaciers to woodland Indians to log-cabin pioneers to cutting-edge industry and innovation. And if you think about, it, that's a lot like the story of America as a whole. But with local history, you get to live with that story, hands-on and in-person. There's nothing more exciting than seeing actual buildings and artifacts from the past. They're historical puzzle pieces! Each one helps resolve the abstract image you have of how it was in the olden days.

Luckily for me, Dayton has done an excellent job of organizing and preserving its story. I could easily spend all day at Carillon Park, which is a little "village" of Dayton's historic buildings and artifacts that have been collected into one place. You can walk around the pretty paths, surrounded by tall trees, and go inside historic structures and galleries of cool items that, together, form a portrait of Dayton's past.

Why Carillon Park? It's named for the stately tower of bells marking the entrance to the park.

Get your ticket, and off you go! Isn't it such a pretty park?

Off to the right, we have rustic Newcom Tavern and a one-room schoolhouse. They're not just for show -- you can go right in and explore!

Here, let's go in the schoolhouse.

Can you imagine all 8 grades crammed into one room with only one teacher?

You can almost hear the old schoolmarm rapping someone's knuckles...!

Back outside, we can get a closer look at Newcom Tavern. The coolest thing about this place is that it's the oldest building in Dayton -- from 1796! Imagine your hometown as a wild and woolly wilderness with nothing but a bare-bones tavern along a river.

Speaking of bare-bones, how about this 200-year-old Shaker home?

Look at this setup! It makes you stop and question how much stuff you actually need to to get by.

I wouldn't mind living here, in a way. When I look out the front door and enjoy a peaceful scene like this, it doesn't seem too bad, huh?

Back on the main path, we come to an old printing shop. They actually still print stuff here using old-fashioned methods. Come on, let's take a look inside!

Holy moly, who knew it took so much equipment to put letters on paper?

Next, we'll visit an exhibit that's very important to me -- the 1913 Flood gallery. When Dayton was flooded in 1913, it seemed to me and my family that the world was ending. We woke up that morning to hear thunder booming, church bells ringing, and factory whistles blowing, all warning us to hurry, run, the levee has broken. Houses were ripped from the ground, tossed like children's toy blocks, and gas explosions torched the heart of downtown. People scuttled along telegraph lines to save themselves, while others tore holes in the roofs of their homes so they could climb just little higher and escape the current. Look at this photo of a house tipped over, as though a giant had picked it up and dropped it carelessly.

History can hardly be more vivid than this artifact of the Great Flood. It's a light bulb salvaged from a school building. Flood water got trapped inside the bulb and remains there to this day. Over a century after the calamity, we can still see a cupful of the very water that caused so much devastation.

But the Flood isn't just a story of tragedy. It's a story of heroes who threw themselves into the huge task of saving human lives. Dayton's industrial giant John Patterson of the National Cash Register company (NCR) transformed his factory overnight into a relief center and rescue headquarters. His factory men rushed to build wooden lifeboats like this one. I'll never forget climbing to safety in one of these NCR boats after spending hours shivering on a roof just above the waterline.

Let's switch gears now and go visit the transportation museum to see how Daytonians have gotten around over the years!

This is the oldest surviving U.S.-made steam locomotive, the John Quincy Adams. All aboard!

Walking through an old train car makes me wish train travel were still this luxurious!

But my favorite way to travel is flying! Dayton's most famous citizens are the Wright Brothers, and their world-changing invention -- the world's first practical airplane -- is right here at Carillon Park. Take a moment and think about how much the world has changed because of this very machine! What might the 20th century have looked like without it? How would wars have played out? How would we relate to other countries in business and travel and education... without the Wright Flyer III?

I'd say those Wrights deserve more than just a commemorative bench, eh?

WAY back in the day, covered bridges were a common thing, the toll roads of days gone by.

And boy, did they have rules!

In the main building where you enter the park, there's actually an extensive museum that houses all kinds of miscellaneous Dayton memorabilia. My favorite is the gallery of Dayton-made toys.

Remember NCR? Here's a bunch of their beautiful old cash registers. Don't you wish everything were made to be this ornate and high-quality?

And finally, how about a ride on a Dayton-themed indoor carousel? It's not actually old, but it's still special, because instead of riding horses, you can ride symbols of Dayton history, from the candy box of a local chocolate shop to Orville Wright's dog, Scipio!

Thanks for hanging in there with this long tour, folks. I can go on and on about all the things I love about Dayton history! But really, what I'm trying to tell you is that you should be proud of your hometown, take the time to learn its history, and above all, VISIT the history! It's all right there for you, and it hardly ever costs much money, if any. You'll be so glad you took the time, I promise!

#american girl dolls #american girl #dayton history #local history #museums #carillon park

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closetcasefabray · 6 years ago

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Blue + Yellow (2/2)

so i’m never drinking again (meaning i’m not going to drink until a few days from now), but i did some stuff around my apartment & recovered before looking this over. it’s in decent enough shape i figured i’d post it on my night in. so here's the second/final part of b+y, a soulmate clexa au. thanks for the likes & reblogs <3

(i also have some ranya companion bits & other cute shit in my head from this. hit me up in the asks or message me if you wanna know anything.)

(Part 1 / 2)

Blue + Yellow

Part 2 / 2

Once you’re old enough to be trusted on a computer, your parents let you use your dad’s old laptop (with safety settings programmed in, courtesy of your dad being a computer engineer and generally a protective father). You spend hours reading stories online about people seeing color. The romantics talk about how life burst into color as soon as they set eyes on their soulmates. The realists are more prevalent, like you, and they tell of their search for their soulmate, having seen color gradually after a few days. Some even reject the idea of soulmates completely, finding different kinds of love with other like-minded people.

Your heart breaks when you read about the people who never see their soulmates again—whether a war-torn nation dividing them, or travelers who board a plane back home only to start seeing color as they leave, or sometimes death. But you feel reassured when you read about those who have lost a soulmate and find love again with someone else. Still, your heart aches at the idea of giving up on finding Lexa, even more when you wonder if she’s given up on you.

Your parents did all they could when you told them about Lexa those years ago, a few days after coloring with Lexa in the park, but they couldn’t get much information because of child protection and privacy reasons, especially because Lexa had been in foster care with her half-sister before moving. With a different last name in a city of millions, you know you’ll never be able to find Lexa, but that doesn’t stop you from searching Facebook and social media most nights.

Once puberty hits, everyone talks about seeing in color. You never hide the fact that you have been able to see colors since you were five, but you don’t like talking about it much. It’s often something you keep to yourself and your paints. Most kids in your small town know it’s unlikely and often hope they don’t meet their soulmate here, but that doesn’t prevent their hormones from kicking into full gear.

When a new student arrives in the spring of seventh grade, you’re not surprised when you hear Octavia (amongst several others) has a crush. You’re also not shocked to hear that Bellamy confronts him after baseball try-outs that same day, telling the new kid, Lincoln, to stay away from his sister. You decide you like Lincoln when you hear he dodged Bellamy’s first swing and in turn gave the Blake boy a bloody nose. Neither of them get into trouble since it happened far enough from school grounds, but Octavia does get in trouble for giving her brother a fat lip as soon as he gets home for starting a fight with Lincoln.

After punching Bellamy, Octavia calls you.

“I can see colors like you now,” Octavia says excitedly. “Just... wow, Clarke. You never told me how beautiful it is.”

She ends up rushing off the phone when her mom gets home and sees a beat up Bellamy holding bags of frozen corn to his nose and mouth.

Although Octavia is grounded for the first month of their relationship, there isn’t anything or anyone who can stop Lincoln and Octavia from falling in love because both puberty-stricken thirteen and twelve-year-olds knew as soon as they saw each other in fourth period English. It really is beautiful, seeing the world in color, but you don’t have the heart to tell Octavia that the colors you see haven’t been as bright since you were just a kid in a park.

Your mom never asks, but you know she’s thinking it when you tell her your top choices for college—Columbia, New School, NYU, Fordham, CUNY. You don’t talk to your mother often, not since your dad died two years ago, so you think she might not want to scare you away from opening up by asking questions.

“I like the idea of being somewhere I don’t have to drive to get to the best art in the city... or the world for that matter,” you say one night over dinner.

She nods in understanding. It is true that the city has that benefit, but you’re not sure if you’re rationalizing it more to yourself or your mother.

You drove enough to get your license, but you hate it. You’ve grown more comfortable riding in passenger seats because Octavia luckily loves to drive, and she talks and plays music loud enough to stop you from thinking too much. But it’s still too easy to get in your head when you drive on your own. You still tremble in your seat at large intersections, and your hands sweat as they hold the wheel because you don’t think you’ll ever forget the sound of metal being crushed and the silence that comes after.

“So wait,” your roommate slurs with a chuckle, “you’re telling me... you decided to come here... because you think your soulmate might still be here?”

“Way to make me sound like a total sucker, but yeah, pretty much,” you confess before downing another shot.

You just had the entire art department rip into your sophomore year portfolio, so you decided to put some distance between you and the art world and get drunk with Raven—a computer engineering student who transferred from UMass back to her home, New York City born and bred.

“You’re not like a sucker. Pretty sure you just are one, but I’m a bitter asshole,” Raven says with a smirk.

You smile and clink your beer bottle with hers before taking a sip.

Raven has good reason and you’re sure you would be much angrier with the world if in her shoes. She met her soulmate when she was fourteen, and they fixed cars and built things with their hands together. Then they were sixteen, riding on a motorcycle they had fixed up together, a car didn’t see them, and Raven just remembers waking up in the hospital with a shattered leg. “I can still see colors,” she said that night the whole story spilled out of her, “but it’s all... faded, I guess. Colors are pretty dull in my eyes.”

“Do you think it’s stupid?” you ask Raven. “That I thought I could find her again?”

Raven shrugs. “Don’t put your life on hold for someone who isn’t here right now,” she says. “If you really are soulmates, things will work themselves out. Until then, have fun, make art like you weird liberal arts kids do. Do whatever. Doesn’t mean you have to fall in love.”

“Makes sense,” you agree as Raven pours you both a shot and opens a couple more beers.

“Of course. I know what I’m talking about; I’m in the sciences.”

You kiss a boy who also sees color, but nothing about him feels special or makes your heart race. You both know you’re welcome distractions for each other, but he knows his soulmate is never coming back and you might always be looking for yours.

You kiss a lot of people and sleep with a few others too. Some can see color, some can’t, and some you don’t bother asking. It’s fun and nothing close to love, so it fills the gaps between those times you think about a little girl who brought green into your life and then everything else. You wonder what she looks like now, if she’s cut her hair, or if she’s somewhere thinking about you.

You fall for a girl with long, light brown hair. She has the opposite curse—born colorblind like everyone else but informed by doctors that she will never see colors. She has to learn to love the hard way—heart first. When you’re lying next to her in bed, and she hums as you trace her jawline, you wish you could love her the way she deserves.

You think she’s always known and that’s why she never said “I love you” because the response would be a lie or an apology.

She’s standing in front of you now, smiling that sad, knowing smile. “You showed me color in a different way,” she says before kissing you softly for the last time. She leaves you in your studio with your hands covered in verdigris.

You don’t know if it’s the lack of sleep or your eyes playing tricks on you again, but you swear you see a flash of green eyes and dark hair on your morning commute. You don’t know if it’s because you’ve been busy and single for the past couple of months, but you feel your heart swell, your blood flowing through your veins to your fingertips. You just know that when you get to your studio, your paintings look a little brighter and your hands find the paint on their own, blending the perfect shades for your last piece of your senior presentation.

Your advisor introduces you to more of her curator friends and they praise your work as you stand in the gallery beside one of your paintings of an eclipse, half the canvas is a haunting cerulean, the other half painted bright shades of yellow.

“I assume you gave Ms. Griffin the A she deserves?” jokes one of her colleagues.

Dr. Miles grins and hugs your shoulders. “I wouldn’t dream of giving her anything lower than that,” she says with pride.

Dr. Miles had been so impressed by your senior project, she invited some friends from MoMA to your show at the campus art center. You were already elated to have your work being viewed by such important people, but when Dr. Miles called you during senior week to ask if you’d like to feature your work at a gallery in affiliation with PS1, you almost burst. You could hardly process what you were hearing and when you did, after hanging up your phone, you screamed and jumped around your apartment, much to Raven’s hungover chagrin.

Since it was rather last minute, Dr. Miles managed to sort out most of the details while you prepared for graduation. Still in your apartment until the end of May, you were able to help move your work to the small gallery space in the Lower East Side on Rivington with some help from Raven. It didn’t feel real until you saw your name in the brochure for New York City Museums’ Summer Tour.

You excuse yourself to greet your mother and her boyfriend, Marcus Kane. They’re beaming as they look at all your work on display, but mostly they look happy together. You smile because your mother’s found a kind of happiness you haven’t seen since your father passed away. Of all people, you’re glad the first person to put paint in your hands is now the person adding color to your mother’s life again.

You give them both a hug and kiss on the cheek, asking how they like the city since they stuck around after your graduation. Someone offers them wine, and Marcus happily takes a glass and mouths to you, “Fancy,” and wiggles his eyebrows, making you laugh.

“Wow, your work is selling quick,” Marcus notes, sipping from his wine.

You’re surprised when you take in how many red dots are stickered next to several of your paintings.

“You’re taking us out to dinner when you visit,” your mom teases.

“I like lobster,” Marcus adds before wandering off to look at more of your work.

You find him a bit later in front of your favorite piece. It’s mixed media, with various New York debris scattered around the edges with the blur of a subway train speeding through the center, featuring green eyes that stand out from the grey. You didn’t put a price on it; you want to hold onto this one.

You’re taking inventory of all the sold pieces and confirming contact information with buyers as Raven continues texting you from across the street as she waits for you to wrap up. She keeps sending you ridiculous ideas of how to spend your newfound relative wealth.

You’re in the back office when you hear the door open.

“Raven, I gave you the passcode to help me move my stuff here, not so you can treat it like an extension of our apartment,” you say as you round the corner, flipping through the contact paperwork. “I’ll just be ten more min—”

You forget how to speak as you blindly set down the stack of paper on the desk, unable to look away from the figure in front of the door.

“Sorry. Your friend told me the passcode... I’d have come earlier, but I had to take the train in from Connecticut.”

You remember everything: the laughing leaves, the charcoal skirt, her brown hair, and those eyes.

“My sister only told me a couple of hours ago there was this art gallery I had to see,” she says, offering a small smile as she takes a couple tentative steps toward you. She picks up one of the small pamphlets about yourself and the exhibit. “Blue + Yellow,” she reads, “Still your favorite color?”

You nod, still struggling to find the right words to say. Maybe it’s because you never let yourself plan this part out; all your energy went solely into making her appear again. Now she’s here, right in front of you.

“Clarke Griffin,” Lexa says like she’s trying it out, putting the pamphlet in her pocket. “Clarke, with an e, Griffin...” She lets out a small laugh. “That would have made things easier.”

You let out a laugh of your own. “And you’re Lexa...”

“Woods. Well, now anyway, once my parents adopted me,” she explains.

"Woods,” you repeat. “Suits you. Woods, forests... like pines.”

Lexa’s smile broadens at that and you wonder if she’s played your last conversation as children over and over in her head like you have, as if sifting through memories for clues to find each other again.

“Is it stupid of me to have dreamed of meeting you again here?” you ask.

Lexa shakes her head. “Only if it’s stupid of me to have read every art section of every New York magazine for the past five years,” she admits, blushing lightly and looking away from Clarke. She notices your unsold mixed media piece and stands in front of it. “It must have been you,” she says, almost to herself as she deciphers the subway and her own eyes gazing out, “but I also thought I saw you walk by me or waiting on the opposite subway platform for years.”

“If it’s any consolation,” you say, standing beside her, looking at it as if from her perspective, “I thought that too. I painted this after I thought I saw you in March. Everything was grey in the rain, but then I saw you... Or thought I did.”

You watch her take in the painting, a look of awe. “Yeah, it must have been you then,” she says, lifting her hand to her chest as if she felt you too. Her eyes trace the grey-blue edges filled with bits of New York—a MetroCard, a crushed coffee cup, a newspaper, and a faded piece of paper with a simple cartoon boat with half the sky colored blue. “It’s always been you,” she says, reaching out as if to touch it but stopping herself.

She turns toward you. “Sorry, this is... a lot.”

You nod dumbly. Lexa smiles and takes your hands in hers. Your artwork breathes with you, seemingly radiating colors off the canvases. They’re singing as they all come back to you in full.

“I spent all my time hoping to find you again... I didn’t put much thought into what I’d say,” Lexa admits with an embarrassed half-smile.

“We have time,” you give her hand a squeeze. “You being here is... We don’t need to talk at all.”

Lexa closes the small distance between you and presses her lips to yours. Every stroke of your paintbrush for seventeen years has been a wish for this moment, and if magic exists, you’re sure it’s in art because Lexa is wrapping her arms around you, holding you, and you’re kissing her back. Like neon buzzing butterflies in your stomach, all the light and color makes its home in you and you’re in love exactly as it was supposed to be.

When you part, you’re looking into those green eyes and you don’t want to look away or wake up if this is all a dream. Lexa blushes under your gaze and you let out a laugh like a breath you’ve been holding in. “Hi,” you sigh.

“Hi,” she says quietly in return, her eyes shimmering like those leaves in the wind. “Would you like to get dinner with me?”

“Now?”

“Yes. Right now.”

“I’d like that. I just, uh,” you keep Lexa’s hand in yours, pulling her with you to grab your phone and keys from the back office, unwilling to let her go now that she’s here. You laugh when you see Raven texted you about a dozen messages, concluding with, you’re welcome. have fun. i’m going to meet with octavia and lincoln to help those poor souls around the city. you owe me several rounds. xox.

You walk out of the building hand-in-hand, and the city’s fast pace and noise welcomes you back to reality. It doesn’t feel jarring with Lexa still beside you, and you sigh contentedly. The city doesn’t feel lonely, seeing it the way you do now.

“I painted a sunset for you... well, several, actually,” you tell her as you walk down the street toward one of the restaurants Lexa likes nearby.

“Any paintings of your hair and eyes?” she asks, smiling at you and almost walking herself into the streetlight pole because she can’t take her eyes off you.

You laugh and kiss her cheek as you wait for the crosswalk sign. “I’m not a fan of self-portraits,” you say, “but you don’t need a painting of me now; you have me right here.”

“You’re right,” Lexa says, and that same look of awe washes over her again because she touches your hair, tucks it behind your ear, and leans down to kiss the corner of your lips. “I’ve missed you... That’s what it feels like.”

Like coming home, you think.

“I’ve missed you too.”

So you ignore the walk sign and kiss her again, under the golden glow of the streetlight to start making up for all that that time spent apart.

fin.

#clexa fic #clexa #clexa au #ccf fic #ccf drabble #fic: blue plus yellow #fic: bpy #closetcasefabray #ccf #clexafic #soulmates au

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ethereal-pluto-blog · 6 years ago

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Markus × North Headcanons since I can't find enough of these !! (SFW)

(North is my angry baby I love her so much)

Sure they have some shit to work on to make their bond stronger (especially if you chose pacifist route for Markus) but neither are the type to just drop something without trying.

Markus and North are both leadership oriented, so they both take lessons from each other to improve their ways of leading.

Markus learns to be more assertive in his position, as now the successful leader of the android revolution many try to undermine his authority + take advantage of his position.

North learns to soften up. (With time, of course) Although her normal personality is bold and brash, Markus helps her with dialogue, and that simply wasting rage is a useless way to waste energy and time, saving her from unnecessary trouble.

North is !very! subtle with affection.

Don't get me wrong, she likes being adored, but at the same time she was programmed to constantly give and give and give affection (sexually, working at the Eden Club for clients all the time). So she likes to take things slowly once the revolution relaxes. Doing things at her own pace gives her back control she needs, so it doesn't feel like she's falling back into an obligated position to please someone else.

Markus doesn't mind, he's a patient soul after all.

Whenever Markus gets too stressed out from his Robo-Jesus work, North becomes gentle and lightly whispers praise and encouragement as she gently caresses his neck and shoulders.

It makes him weak trust me 10/10 he melts into a puddle of goo.

If North gets too riled up from anger episodes Markus lightly hums or sings to her.

She immediately shuts up and pretty much forgets what made her so upset in the first place, since damn, his voice is always so.. s o o t h i n g.

The trust in this relationship is outstanding.

Eventually, North opens up more about the abuse, and how she felt used, how eventually it all snapped inside of her to make her go deviant.

Markus always listens to her.

And wipes her tears away when eventually it all becomes too much to unload all at once.

He'll kiss the crown of her forehead, then her lips softly, as he embraces her until she comes back down from her venting episode.

He's a cuddle monster in general so it doesn't bother him when she clings on like a lifeline in these moments, hell he loves being close to her.

North always returns the gesture too.

If he needs to vent she's THERE IN A HEARTBEAT.

She'll always remind him that his frustrations are valid, and the more she listens to him it becomes less "Let's cut his dick off!!" And eventually more "I understand, love, we'll find a way to get through this together. (But if you need me to cut his dick off I'm down baby ily.)"

Their dates would be so sentimental and so cute I cannot.

Their lives are so hectic that it would probably be on the more tame side.

They can't eat so restaurants aren't on the itinerary, but they'd love some at home movie nights, stargazing, going to book stores, exploring hiking trails, going to the beach, and visiting museums.

Speaking of art, of course North inspires some of Markus' works.

He'll often appeal to her likeness with red's, yellow's, and orange's. Perhaps even painting fire around her/ in her heart.

He sees her as a passionate being, like a flame to a forest.

North gets flustered since Markus is so fucking pure, and she's so blushy when thanking him every single time.

She isn't that artistic, but she does try and impress Markus in other ways/ Show appreciation.

She tries many hobbies (keyword, t r i e s), but nothing comes to her until she discovers photography as an option. She takes to it almost immediately.

Her galleries are gorgeous as fuck and of course the full course meal Markus is a part of them. Sometimes she can't exactly vocalize praise or compliments, so catching him in his natural beauty is her fullproof way of showing him that she's honored to be his.

Markus and North also spend a lot of time with their squad.

Markus, Simon, and Josh sometimes have guys night outs. What are they doing you might inquire? Who knows! Literally they'll either be in bible study or committing lowkey arson lmao it's either one or the other.

North is chill since she likes hanging out with her friends from the Eden Club.

North is best friends with the power couple, the Traci's, and they go shopping sometimes for good clothes. They'll also occasionally go visit pet shelters since these girls are soft for fuzzy adorable animals. Lmaodon'ttellMarkus.

They do eventually get pets together as a couple.

They'll probably get a Pit bull and a hedgehog.

The Pit Bull will be tan with blue eyes, named Rosie. The hedgehog is named Oakley.

North wanted Rosie since she's a powerful doggo but also gentle af.

Markus liked Oakley since he could have a lil buddy to rest in his hoodie pocket while he painted.

Carl, although with his condition still not in the best shape, becomes a sort of father figure to North that she didn't know she needed.

She became more involved with caregiving for him after observing Markus do it so easily.

She'll jokingly call him a "crazy old man" but it turns more into "Pops" whenever she greets him.

Carl and North team up to mess with Markus from time to time, and it's fucking HILARIOUS.

Markus is peeved but he's happy his lil family is getting along. ("Guys... s e r i o u s l y where are the paintbrushes??")

Carl also teaches North some valuable insight, stuff that even she can't argue with. She nods thoughtfully and lightly hugs him.

Markus is so proud.

Proud son tears.

Proud significant other tears.

("Markus..?! Babe what's wrong why are you crying??" "Son you alright..?")

They're the most powerful of power couples.

You mess with North you'll have an angry Markus on your hands. Which can be surprisingly more intimidating than North.

You mess with Markus and well...accept your fate I guess lol since North won't hesitate to whoop you to within an inch of your life if you threaten her mans.

Honestly couple goals.

They may have fights from time to time but they become less frequent the more they have discussions afterwards to reconcile their differing personalities and temperaments.

And if you're wondering about marriage yes that's gonna be a thing with these two.

Markus believes marriage is a beautiful union between those in love.

North is skeptical since when presented to her in legal terms she's like: "...So a contract basically?"

Though she does warm up to it since she'll be the Maid of Honor to the Traci's wedding. Seeing their love and bond in a special ceremony helps cease her doubts. (She's not crying you're crying) (But honestly everyone there was a fucking mess after the vows were read but that's another headcanon for another day)

They'll probably accidentally propose at the same time.

(Totally not Carl's secret plan)

Literally they'll both kneel down and be like ???

They both had rings.

It was fucking hilarious.

They both had planned on proposing at the first place they met, at Jericho.

It was a shock to both of them.

Somehow Simon, Josh, and Lucy knew it was going to happen so they were spying on the couple and they were WEAK AS SHIT!!

When they do get married though it's going to be a fairly large ceremony. (Since every fucking android and android supporter from across the nation wanted to be there for the headline breaking wedding of the century)

Markus' groomsmen are going to include Simon as his best man, Connor, Luther, Carl, and surprisingly Leo too.

North's bridesmaids are going to include Lucy as her Maid of Honor, the Traci's, Kara, and Chloe.

Josh is going to be ordained for this occasion (seeing as he's the only emotionally stable one during this high stakes event)

Alice is going to be the ring bearer fucking fight me on this.

North is also walked down the isle by Carl since he's basically become her dad at this point since she's known him for years.

Everyone is going to be emotional.

I mean everyone.

Markus almost shuts down a few times.

North is just perpetual tears and happiness.

Now they're officially joined together as Mr. Markus Manfred and Mrs. North Manfred.

You bet your entire ass they're getting kids.

It's gonna be blended.

Some android some human.

Probably get around 3-5 kids.

All adopted obviously.

Markus is soft huggy calm dad.

North is strong momma.

People who thought that their relationship wasn't going to work are now eating their hats.

Honestly they're so in love and devoted to each other that nothing can separate them now.

I love these dorks so much can't you tell? :')

Anyways yeah here's my contribution to this ship that I really like so :')

Probably not going to be a fanfiction blog but who knows I might pop more of these out whenever I have motivation to do so. This was kinda fun to do. Hope whoever reads this enjoys! !

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