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craniumhurricane · 4 years ago

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call me, baby, if you need a friend

Cleaning up some old WIPs. This has been in my drafts since end of season 2/around season 3.

Basically 4 times Clarke calls Bellamy and 1 time that Bellamy calls Clarke.

Thank you @casleyislove and @sushigirlali for always reading things before I post them!

[ On AO3! ]

___

(i)

It's a quiet night in at the Blake apartment. Or, at least, for Bellamy it is. He's having a nice Friday night by himself after surviving a truly grueling week of finals. Octavia tried to convince him to go out and celebrate the end of the semester the "right way," but he turned her down… he's still not quite sure how he managed to do that.

His feet are currently propped up on the coffee table with a large bowl of store brand cocoa puffs in his lap. Bellamy may be an adult but damn if he isn’t going to celebrate the end of the term with sugary cereal… nevermind that he didn’t actually make time to grocery shop this week. The TV was queued and ready for the marathon of Ancient Aliens episodes he’d missed due to studying, and he was just about to press play when he hears a short but insistent buzzing sound.

Glancing around, his eyes land on Octavia’s phone sitting on the corner of the coffee table. She must have left it in her hurry to leave since she was running late to meet up with her boyfriend.

Bellamy keeps his eyes on it for a second before deciding to ignore it, and once again his finger hovers over the play button on the remote. Then the phone lights up again, this time with a phone call; a picture of Octavia and a curly haired blonde that he recognizes, the name CLARKE THE GRIFFIN flashing across the screen. He considers ignoring it for a second time but... if she’s resorting to actually calling instead of texting again then something could be seriously wrong.

Bellamy swipes his thumb across the screen to answer and brings the phone to his ear but before he can even say anything a voice on the other side interjects immediately.

“Men are dicks,” the woman says without preamble. “No! Worse than that. They're weird tumors that grow on dicks," she pauses, seems to think about it, and then adds, "Preferably life threatening.”

Bellamy blinks a few times before he answers, “I'm sure you're right, but don't you think that's a bit harsh?”

The line is quiet. He can hear her shifting the phone, no doubt checking the screen to make sure she called the right person.

“Octavia?”

“Bellamy.”

Clarke huffs. “Where's Octavia?” she snaps. He can hear the annoyance seeping into her tone, which in turn just makes him feel his own frustrations start to rise.

He tamps it down though. “On a date,” he answers.

She deflates at that, “Oh right. One month anniversary with Lincoln.”

He hums a confirmation and then they’re silent for a few minutes. So long that it’s Bellamy’s turn to look at the phone and make sure she’s still there. “Did you need something?” he asks once he sees that the call is still, in fact, in progress.

She takes a deep breath before answering, “I ended things with Finn tonight.”

Bellamy had only met Finn Collins a handful of times; the guy was fine except for a little cocky… and he always seemed to want to show off in front of pretty girls. His hair was too long and always styled like he was some kind of frat boy that came from big money even though Bellamy's 100% sure he never so much as pledged.

And then there was that one time he flirted with Octavia.

Ok, so Bellamy didn’t like the guy. But a break up is still a shitty thing to go through which is why he says, “I’m sorry,” and finds that he means it.

“Not your fault,” Clarke says immediately, “But I was kind of looking for someone to watch me binge drink and listen to me vent.”

He understands that, having gone through the same thing when he broke up with Roma at the start of the term. If you could really call them “hooking up occasionally” the same thing as dating, but still, getting drunk with Miller had been essential in the whole moving on process.

“You want to come over here anyway?” he offers carefully, casually. He doesn’t mind Clarke. She’s younger than him, around Octavia’s age. They aren’t exactly friends, but he would consider them a little more than acquaintances. Enough that it shouldn’t be too weird for him to invite her over even without his sister present. Plus, her getting drunk here is a better alternative than her getting drunk by herself in some bar.

“You don’t mind?” she asks and he thinks he hears relief in her voice, “I was kind of already on my way over to your guy’s place... I don’t really feel like going out and I really don't feel like being depressed and alone in my dorm right now.”

“Nah,” he says and then tries a joke to brighten her spirits, “Sounds like something fun to watch. I’ll order food.”

“Chinese would be great,” and he swears he can hear a smile in her voice so he’ll count his dumb joke as a victory. “Thanks, Bellamy, see you soon.”

He's not even a little bit mad about dumping out his now soggy cereal.

(ii)

“So, you’ve been in school for basically forever. Is it normal for a person to experience this amount of stress?”

Bellamy’s lips twitch as he holds his phone to his ear. After Clarke crashed his Friday night in, and spilled on the whole cheating Finn debacle while they did shots, Bellamy figured he should give her his own cell phone number. As much as he hated to admit it, and honestly he never will, his sister and her boyfriend were getting serious, so who knows how much Octavia would be available for late night bitchfests about significant others, fellow students, and the human population in general. Which were just a few of the topics they discussed that night. Hanging out with Clarke ended up being kind of fun, a better night than he originally planned. She even let him watch a little of his marathon and offered her own commentary. Bellamy would do it again… which is something else he would never admit.

It's not like they suddenly talk every day, but it’s a near thing. They would send each other the occasional text when one of them sees something that the other absolutely has to know about. Mostly, he gets pictures of old dogs she sees at the park, asking if this will be him in 20 years. Bellamy responds in kind with memes about college life and rubbing it in her face that they no longer apply to him since he graduated last semester.

But sometimes she reaches out to him if there is something particularly bothering her. Such as dealing with egotistical dickwads that consider themselves professors and shutting down female students in a male dominated class.

Clarke’s probably the only person that ever calls him and can never start the conversation with a simple ‘Hello’. Actually, she’s probably the only person that actually still calls him.

“I just got a job teaching so that insult isn't going to work anymore since I literally will be in a school as part of my job,” is his first response before he turns to one of concern, “Midterms got ya down?”

“It’s just,” she gives an exasperated sigh before continuing, “I want to do something that helps people, I know I want to help people… But maybe I don't want to help people the way my mom wants me to help people...ya know?”

“You’re going to have to give me more to go on here, Princess-”

“I’m thinking about switching my major,” she says abruptly, like she’s ripping off a band aid.

He’s silent, waiting to see if she’s going to say anything else. When it becomes clear she’s waiting for him to say something he responds honestly, “If being a doctor isn’t something you want to do, then you shouldn’t do it.”

“But-”

“What your mom wants you to do shouldn’t overrule what you want to do, Clarke,” he interrupts her. Due to the increasing amount of time he’s been spending with Clarke, he’s learned that the Griffins have always had a capital “P” Plan and he knows that Clarke has a hard time knowing when she can push the boundaries of said Plan.

She’s silent again and Bellamy’s starting to think he’s going to have to prod her a second time. He’s got the beginnings of his big speech all prepared when finally she speaks up. “I’m thinking about going into Art Therapy,” She says thoughtfully, “Or maybe teaching? Helping out underprivileged kids...or hell, even underprivileged adults. Or maybe something for the community?”

His lips twitch on another smile at hearing the beginnings of a hint of passion in her voice. “Teaching can be very rewarding,” he says magnanimously.

She snorts and it turns into a full laugh, “You haven't even started yet! It could be the worst thing you’ve ever done and a total waste of your degree.”

“Your confidence in me really is touching,” he deadpans and then adds simply, “You’re an amazing artist, Clarke. I think doing something with that could be something you'd enjoy and be really really good at.”

She’s quiet when she asks, “You think I’m amazing? You’ve never told me that.” And Bellamy swears he can hear that smile in her voice again. The one he always looks forward to. The one he tries to coax out of her without realizing he’s doing it.

He feels his cheeks start to heat up and even though she can't see him, he feels the need to brush it off. “Yeah, well, I generally try to be as dickish as possible so…”

She snorts again and damn if he didn’t feel a slight flutter in his chest.

“For the record, I think you’re going to be an amazing teacher,” she says it so matter-of-factly but he’ll have to dwell on it later because she sobers and then asks softly, “So, you think I should do it?”

It’s not hard for him to build her up. She spends so much time being there for the rest of their slowly merging friend groups that she rarely takes time to see the greatness in herself. He doesn’t mind helping.

“I think you should do whatever the hell you want.”

(iii)

“Women are worse than men.”

Bellamy rubs the sleep from his eyes and glances at the clock; it was almost 3 in the morning. “I thought men were tumors?” he asks around a yawn.

“Yeah, well, women can be tumors too,” Clarke huffs, but she just sounds tired, “Comparing people to tumors is equal opportunity. Strides in feminism are being made, didn’t you know?”

Bellamy pushes himself into a sitting position, suddenly more alert as he picks up the trace of tears in her voice. “You ok?” he asks.

Clarke is silent at first, but he waits her out, he knows that she’ll tell him. “Lexa broke up with me,” she says quietly and then adds in confusion, “Or we broke up with each other? I’m a little unsure. We spent the whole night arguing and then suddenly she was packing up her stuff.” She pauses before taking a shaky breath, “It’s over. We’re over.”

“I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

“She was leaving anyway,” she continues, bitterly, “Some new job. She was leaving in a few weeks and didn’t even bother to tell me. I told her we could make it work long distance, I was willing to try and make it work. That’s when the arguing started. Not just about that but about-,” Clarke abruptly cuts herself off and hesitates, “about... other things. Things I didn’t even know were an issue.” She’s quiet again before she adds, “She didn’t say it but I think she was disappointed that I never suggested going with her...”

The thought makes a quick flash of irritation run through him. “She wanted you to uproot your entire life and go with her,” he summarizes as he tries to adjust the pillows on his bed by beating them, maybe a little too roughly at the thought of her doing just that, before leaning back against them.

“Which is completely crazy, I know,” she hurries to say, “but I wish we could have talked about it.”

“I am sorry, Clarke,” he says again, “I know Lexa seemed like she was it for you.”

“But maybe she wasn’t?” Clarke counters as if trying to reason with herself. “I don’t know. We were both committed to each other, but maybe this was a sign that we weren’t going to be able to make it work long term?” She pauses and Bellamy can hear the gears in her head turning as she processes a way for her to handle this, too explain it to herself. “When we were together,” she hesitates before continuing, and he can imagine her biting her lip, “I was happy... but I felt like a separate version of myself, ya know? Still me, but not completely me?”

Bellamy chews on the words he wants to say and goes with, “Sometimes the person you're with can change you; it's not always a bad thing.” He gets quiet as he adds thoughtfully, “I like to think Gina made me a better person...and she probably did,” he pauses, this time unsure if he should keep going, but Clarke hasn't said anything, so she must be waiting for him to continue, “We tried, tried really hard, to make it work, but eventually you just realize that maybe the relationship isn't going anywhere and what’s best for everyone is just to call it.”

“Wait, you and Gina broke up?” Clarke asks in surprise, “When did that happen!?”

“That's what you got from that?” He rubs a hand over his face as he thinks about it, “About two weeks ago?”

“Shit,” she says and is quiet before asking in a small voice, “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Honestly, I haven't seen a whole lot of you these last few months,” he hears what he said and corrects himself, “We haven’t seen a whole lot of you.” He’s surprised at his ability to keep the bite out of his voice; because the truth was this last year has sucked since Clarke started dating Lexa.

They met at one of Clarke's art gigs. Lexa was cool; fun when she wanted to be, but also a little hard to be around. Most of the time, she seemed to prefer doing things without any of Clarke’s friends.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke says.

“It’s fine,” he answers her and means it. “Gina and I are still good friends.”

“I wasn’t talking about you and Gina,” she says, voice soft.

He realizes what she’s actually apologizing for and he doesn’t know what to say. Because of course he forgives her, he will always forgive her.

The silence lasts too long so he clears his throat and prompts, “Want to come over and get drunk?”

Her laugh through the phone breaks the tension, “It’s like 3 o'clock in the morning.”

“My bar is always open.”

She chuckles. “I really want to hit something,” she says with a determined edge to her voice, “Then maybe get drunk.”

“How about this, we get a few more hours of sleep, wake up at a normal time, and go hit something,” he offers and then adds as if it's an afterthought, “And then get drunk, of course.”

She laughs again, “Oh, of course.” There’s that smile. “I forgot what being single with you was like.”

Bellamy sobers at the thought. It has been awhile since the two of them were single at the same time. “Always here to help, Princess.”

(iv)

“Why did I agree to this trip again?”

He’s packing up the essays that are scattered across his desk when she calls, 4 o’clock on the dot. Bellamy tries to suppress a laugh but he’s pretty sure she can at least hear the teasing smile in his voice.

“Just getting back to the hotel?” he asks in lieu of his own greeting.

“Yes!” she exclaims in exasperation. “And if it were up to Josephine, we probably would have walked all of damn Paris tonight,” her voice gets muffled at the end and he can only assume she’s thrown herself face first onto the nearest bed. “I cannot wait for a shower- No! A bath, definitely taking a long, hot bath.”

And now the image of Clarke Griffin in the bath, with just enough bubbles to cover up to her chest, has entered his mind. He shoves it away before anymore thoughts can accompany it.

This used to never be a problem. Sure, he’s always known that Clarke is attractive, but he has never been attracted to her. But ever since he broke up with Gina and she broke up with Lexa, Bellamy has been exceedingly aware of the fact that they have both remained single.

The last time this happened was right after Finn.

Bellamy shakes his head for good measure before responding. “You’re going to fall asleep in the tub and your roommate will find your prune-y, wrinkled body in the morning.” He cringes. Apparently he wasn’t able to get the image of her completely out of his head.

Clarke scoffs, but he can tell that it’s in an exasperated but fond kind of way. “How is it that you manage to be a buzzkill from over 4,000 miles away?” she asks drily and then pauses before adding, “Actually, Josie would probably just leave me in there for the entire trip and never let on that something was up.”

He turns the key to lock his office behind him and heads for the staff lot. “Don’t worry, if you don’t call to check in, I’ll call the National Guard,” he teases.

“I know you would,” she says simply, like it’s a known fact.

Things have been a little weird after he became aware that they were both single. Mostly because, he’s pretty sure that Clarke has also come to realize it. When he turns to look at her, he often finds her already looking. Their innocent touches are now more frequent and linger just a bit longer.

Bellamy has come to realize that he doesn’t want to be single and the reason he doesn’t want to be single is because he wants his best friend to not be single with him.

There’s just never a right time to tell her.

“So, what did you do today?” he asks.

Despite the exhaustion and jetlag that’s surly setting in, Clarke jumps into an animated retelling of the flight and arriving at their hotel room just in time to change clothes and head back out to walk the streets of Paris to get their bearings before their tours officially start tomorrow.

“I’m a little disappointed that we’re doing the Louvre first thing tomorrow. I was hoping to be a little more alert for that.”

“Your coffee addiction hasn’t stopped just because you’re in another country,” he points out as he gets in his car.

She laughs, “Jeez, you are such an ass.”

He starts the car but doesn’t leave just yet; afraid the long distance call will drop out.

“What are you doing now?” he asks into the comfortable silence.

“Admiring the view,” she admits softly. “It really is gorgeous all lit up. Makes me want to dig out my sketchbook.”

“You have a week, Princess,” he chuckles. “Don’t screw up your jetlag even more by losing track of time in your drawings on the first night.”

She’s quiet again before confessing softer somehow, “It also makes me wish you were here.”

His heart clenches in his chest and he wills himself to sound normal. “Maybe next time,” he tries for teasing but it comes out almost wistful.

“Next time, hmmm?” Clarke hums. “You’d come to Paris with me?” And he’s sure she’s flirting with him.

“Well, maybe not for our first date,” he says, “But maybe, like, our fifth or something.”

Clarke’s quiet for a long time and he’s afraid he’s overstepped, misread the room. He’s about to take it back, play it off as a joke when she finally speaks.

“And what would a first date look like?” she asks with what he thinks is hope in her voice.

He swallows a couple of times. “Well,” he starts, “Since you’re already getting some of the best museum experiences, I’d probably settle for dinner and a movie. Something cheesy that’s playing at the dollar theater; where we’re the only ones there and can yell at the screen.”

She chuckles and his heart flutters, “We already do that, Bell. Quite frequently, actually.”

“Yeah, but if it’s a date then I’d get to kiss you at the end of it.”

“What? No making out during the movie?” she asks and he can picture how cute her face gets when she pouts.

A grin spreads across his face and he’s grateful no one can see how goofy he must look.

“We’ll have to make sure it’s a really bad movie.”

(+i)

Clarke rubs some moisturizer on her face before capping the tube and tossing it into her bag on the bed. After ensuring that everything she’s going to need for tomorrow is packed, she zips it up and grabs one of Bellamy’s hoodies to slip on over her clothes.

Ever since he picked her up from the airport when she got back from her trip to Paris, and she ran directly into his arms, giving the other people waiting quite a show, there always seems to be one laying around, waiting for her to find it. She assumes that he gets as much of a thrill out of her wearing them as she does.

She heads down the stairs of their townhouse, passing various pictures and artwork, and shoots Raven one more text not to forget to bring her dress to the venue tomorrow. She’s supposed to help her get ready in the morning along with her mother. In the meantime, Abby has sent a car to pick her up and take her to the hotel. Easier to get ready if she’s already there for the stylist… something else her mother insisted on paying for. No matter how many times Clarke told her she didn’t care what her hair looked like because she was marrying the love of her life.

Clarke locks up the house and greets the driver, slipping into the backseat. She intends to spend the ride lost in thought, going through the checklists that were running through her head.

Their engagement had been on the short side but she didn’t mind. They were both ready to get on with this next chapter in their lives.

Her phone is resting loosely in her hand, face down on her knee, when it starts to vibrate with an incoming call. She holds her breath for a second, praying it isn’t the florist or the caterers. But when she sees the photo of her and Bellamy from New Year’s flash on the screen, she can’t help but smile.

She taps the button and greets him with a sultry, “Hi, handsome.”

“Hey,” he says and she can tell he has a soft smile on his face, the one just for her. “You just leave the house?”

“Yep. On my way to the hotel now, so hopefully you haven’t forgotten anything because it’s too late now.”

“The most important thing is already on its way,” he responds with a teasing lilt.

Clarke can’t help the sharp laugh that escapes her lips, “Oh my god! You are such a sap!”

“I was referring to the ring, obviously, Princess.”

“Oh, obviously,” she says, mock serious.

They chuckle to themselves for a few minutes and she honestly can’t tell if the driver is rolling his eyes or thinks they’re being cute from hearing one side of the conversation.

Bellamy sobers up first only to let out a groan. “I hate whose ever idea this is,” he whines.

“Aren’t you the history professor? Shouldn’t you know where common traditions and such come from?”

He scoffs, “No, I mean I hate whichever of our friends is making us do this.”

The two of them haven’t seen each other since yesterday morning, him having been spirited off by his groomsmen while she was left to spend last night alone in their bed. And now they’re meant to go one more night without seeing each other.

To Bellamy’s point, Clarke isn’t altogether sure why this is a tradition anymore, nor why they are choosing to follow this particular one. She and Bellamy aren’t even that superstitious! And yet somehow they were talked into spending the days leading up to their wedding apart.

“Ah,” she answers him now, “That would be Raven and Miller. Although, I’m pretty sure it had nothing to do with marriage traditions and has everything to do with getting back at us for making out in front of them so much.”

Bellamy scoffs again, “Well, jokes on them, because after tomorrow, I don’t ever have to stop kissing you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, “We’ll have to come up to eat at some point.”

The driver pulls up under the awning of the hotel and Clarke gets out and grabs her bag before he’s able to get out and grab it for her. She gives him a wave and a simple thank you before heading through the sliding doors.

“How’s your room?” she asks into the phone as she bypasses the check in desk, her mother having already checked her in and given her the key card to her room this morning when they were getting their nails done.

He heaves a deep sigh. “Lonely,” he answers as she steps into the elevator. From what Clarke knows from his texts, Miller dropped him off here last night and left him to his own devices. Apparently, the best man gets to sleep next to his husband but Bellamy wasn’t allowed to sleep next to his soon-to-be wife.

She makes a split second decision and presses a different button, jolting the elevator to stop sooner than intended. When she steps off she casually offers, “I could help with that.”

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles. “You going to describe for me what you’re wearing?”

“Hmm,” she hums as if she’s considering it. “I could do that… but I was more thinking that I could show you.”

Clarke stops in front of a door and gives it a nice rhythmic knock.

She doesn’t have to wait long before it’s opening and Bellamy is standing in front of her with his phone against his ear and a huge grin on his face.

She lowers her own phone from her ear, pressing the end button without looking.

“Hi, handsome,” she manages before he’s pulling her into his room.

#no one cares ashleigh #bellarke fanfiction #bellamy blake x clarke griffin #my fanfiction #i'm going to post this and run away because omg #i feel like this is long and i rambled #and i had some unresolved issues regarding clarke's relationships #anyway #enjoy!

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years ago

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Teacher Of The Year - P.09

Pairing: Professor Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Heartbroken and restless, she walked into a bar with the full intention of getting smashed but she got more than she bargained for. Much more.

Warnings: Angst, sexual harassment

WC: 3138

SERIES MASTERLIST

She’s going to a party tonight. Because that’s apparently what students do. Students should go to frat parties and enjoy their college experience to the fullest. At least that’s what her friend Anna told her when she suggested it to her.

Anna doesn’t really know that all Y/N wants is actually to be holed up with Dean in his tiny apartment and watch history documentaries in black and white until she falls asleep and he would nudge her awake when there’s an interesting part coming up. She loves that, loves to just spend time with him, even if they don’t fuck. Well, they do, a lot actually, but there’s also times where they are comfortable around each other. Where they would talk and watch TV, where they would cook together and study together. She likes all of that. That’s more her thing. Dean is more her thing. Not some stupid frat party. But she couldn’t say no to that, if she doesn’t want people to get suspicious.

Her friend knows that she’s occasionally seeing someone. Someone named D. Who she met on tinder, but that’s what young people do and she’s no exception. Anna doesn’t know that D is Dean. Anna doesn’t know that Dean is her history professor because Anna is an art student and doesn’t have any classes with Dean. And Anna certainly doesn’t know that she fucks Dean on a regular basis.

They’re in her tiny dorm room, and she’s glad that she has a room to herself actually. Her roommate decided not to start but hasn’t really pulled herself out of the rooming list either, and the room is paid for in advance, they keep the bed empty and she guesses that it’s a win because the last thing she wants is for a nosy roommate to ask her where she’s at when she’s not here.

Anna would occasionally crash here when it’s too late for her to go back to her own dorm but it doesn’t happen a lot because Anna prefers to sleep in her own bed. Not that she doesn’t like Anna. They have known each other since high school, even grew up on the same street but as much as Y/N is social, she is also very antisocial when it comes to her privacy. Now even more than before.

Anna sits on the other empty bed applying finishing touches to her make up, is already dressed to impress with her tube top and a short skirt. She certainly wants to score tonight, Y/N can see that.

She is still standing awkwardly in front of her closet, and doesn't know what to wear. She doesn’t want to go all out but she doesn’t want to come across as a prude either.

“My god, if you take any longer the party will be over when we get there,” Anna slowly grows impatient because Y/N can’t seem to be able to decide on her outfit.

“I have nothing to wear,” She sighs.

“That’s bullshit!” Anna laughs a little and walks over in her super high heels before she begins to rummage through Y/N’s clothes.

She watches as Anna pulls out a black off shoulder top with ruffles. After some more rummaging, Anna finds a white jean short to go with it. “Here,” She says, hands it to Y/N.

Y/N takes it, there’s so much she wants to say, though. That she doesn’t feel comfortable showing so much skin around so many drunk guys, that she doesn’t really want to go at all but it’s Anna. It’s her friend. She should fucking pull herself together.

So she wears it, lets Anna help her apply makeup on her face and they’re off. It’s weird walking around on heels, she doesn’t wear them a lot, not at all actually, so when they arrive at the party, her feet are already hurting like hell.

The house is already packed and she holds on to Anna’s hand when the other girl shoves her way through the crowd. She’s actually glad that Anna is such a confident persona, Anna doesn’t take shit from anyone and she knows how to take care of herself. Y/N high-key admires her friend.

They have found the bar and Anna pours them both a shot glass of clear liquid, holds it out for her, “Cheers,”

Y/N smiles, tips the glass to her lips and throws her head back. She swallows and squints her eyes at the burn. They take another one, and she actually welcomes the alcohol, she would probably even need one or two more to make the party more tolerable in her eyes.

Anna then pulls her to the dance floor and it wasn’t long until they were surrounded by a bunch of dudes. Y/N sees that her friend quite enjoys it, enjoys the attention the boys are giving her but somehow, she feels that it’s slowly getting too much for her. One of the boys behind her back starts to weave his arm around her waist and she doesn’t want that, so she takes his hands and pushes him away. She thought that he would make a scene but he was obviously too drunk to even care so she tells Anna that she goes to the bar and waits for her there. Anna only nods with a smile as she locks her arm around one of the dude’s neck.

Y/N gets a beer and stands off to the side of the bar, pulls out her phone from her clutch to see if there’s a message from Dean but there’s none, so she places her phone back and looks into the crowd. She sees that Anna is locking lips with the dude already, and they haven’t even been here for an hour. Has to chuckle at Anna’s determination because if it’s the other way around it would have taken her at least the whole night to settle for a guy, and knowing her, she’d probably be going home alone in the end anyway.

Her eyes scan the room, looking for someone she knows because Y/N knows that it’s only a matter of time until Anna will tell her that she’s gonna go home with a guy and leave her here alone. Y/N think that she’ll only stay for a while longer if there’s someone here that she knows and if not, she’s happy to call it a night and go home. There’s really no need for her to spend more time with a bunch of drunks if she doesn’t really have to.

Looking around some more she almost chokes on her drink when she sees someone familiar, her body goes rigid.

Dean.

What is he doing here?

He’s talking to a couple of boys, they’re standing off to the side of the dance floor and he has a plastic cup in his hand. She can’t stop staring. What is a fucking professor doing at a frat party?

After a while he notices her, and it might be subtle to anyone but her, but his lips curve up a little and he nods at her while he still listens to what the boys are telling him.

And, oh my god, one of those boys is her ex.

This is great. So fucking great.

Fun-fucking-tastic.

Her ex sees her, because he looks in the direction where Dean’s looking at, and she can’t hide, there’s just not enough time to hide. And of course her ex now walks over to where she’s standing.

She can see Dean watching her ex walk in her direction, is wondering what he thinks.

“Hey,” Adam says and he’s drunk, she can see that. His eyes are glassy and maybe he even smoked pot before. She doesn’t know. Doesn’t really fucking care.

“Hi,” She says in return, because she’s polite.

Adam braces his elbow on the bar top, “You like the party?”

“Well, you didn’t throw it, did you?” She can’t remember that he’s in a fraternity.

He laughs, loud, throws his head back and all, and it wasn’t even funny. “No, a friend of mine lives here. He did it. I helped a bit, though.” Adam tells her as if it matters. As if she’ll be impressed.

“And what’s that professor doing here?” She asks, tries to stay nonchalant.

Adam looks back to see Dean still staring at them. “Oh, that one. He’s cool. They invited him because he seems to be a cool professor. You know him?”

“I have history with him.”

Adam chuckles, “You have history with me too,” His chuckle turns into a laugh, “See what I did there?”

Y/N rolls her eyes. Her ex really thinks he’s the funniest thing since sliced bread.

Thankfully Anna comes to interrupt them and she pulls Y/N aside. In the corner of her eyes, she sees Adam pouring himself a line of shot glasses, she wonders who it’s for but she didn’t have to wait long because that dude downs all by himself.

“Listen,” Anna starts to say.

“Wait, let me guess,” Y/N cuts her off. “You’re going to abandon me for that guy over there who’s looking at us with your lipstick stains still on his lips, right?”

Anna takes a look back, grins like a winner, “Yeah, I’m sorry?”

Y/N smiles back at her friend, “Don’t be. That’s okay, I’ll go home soon anyway. Adam’s here.”

Her friend throws her arms around Y/N’s neck, kisses her cheek, “You’re the best!” With that, she’s off to whatshisname and Y/N returns to her beer, doesn’t think she’ll drink it anymore, though because she left it unattended.

It’s not even a minute later when Adam found his way back to her, now visibly drunk and slurring his speech a little, too. He waves an arm around her middle and she holds her hand up between them, places it on his chest.

“‘M sorry,” He slurs, “I made a big mistake.”

“You did.” She answers coldly.

His free hand comes up to play with her locks. “Fuck, you look so fucking good in that slutty outfit.”

“Adam, stop,” She says, loud and clear.

But as drunk Adam is, he doesn’t listen, instead pulls her closer and she arches her back away from him. “Did you wear it for me, huh? Tell me you miss me.”

“I’m not telling you that. Fucking stop!” She tries to push him away harder but he doesn't budge.

“Oh, you do. You miss my cock, don’t you?” He leans closer, his hands grips tight around her waist, the tips of his fingers digging into her flesh. “I don’t think anyone can fuck you as good as I can.”

“Adam, you’re fucking drunk. I don’t want this, fucking stop and let go of me, now!” She balls her fist, hits his chest but he just chuckles.

His face is so close and the wave of alcohol that hits her nostrils are making her nauseous.

“Hey, buddy!” Someone calls out. The voice is deep and low, loud above the music. “I think she said stop.”

She can see Dean standing right behind Adam. There’s a frown on Dean’s face and he’s angry. His fists are balled on the side of his body.

“Nobody asked you to interrupt, professor. I thought you were cool.” Adam snickers and then he turns back to her, raises his eyebrow and launches forward, tries to kiss her. Her only reaction was to arch her back even more, to push herself away harder.

“Hey!” Dean grabs Adam by his shoulder to which Adam lets go of her and turns around, connects his fist to Dean’s face at lightning speed, which in turn, sends Dean tumbling a couple of steps back. Dean’s glasses fly away from his nose and lands on the floor. Someone picked it up and gave it back to Dean but he didn’t care about that right now.

“Y/N?” Dean just says. His voice is calm but still loud, full of authority. “I want you to come stand behind me where I know you’re safe.”

She nods, her eyes already teary, and walks around, shakes Adam off when he tries to touch her again.

There’s a lot of people around, she notices the one who’s filming. He already started to film when Adam hit Dean.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Adam shouts, his speech so slurred and everyone knows that he’s had way too much to drink. He’s poking at Dean’s chest with his finger, shoves Dean around but Dean just stands there, not doing anything.

“You’re drunk and it’s best if you go home.” Dean’s trying to reason with Adam.

“I’m going home with her.” Adam says, points his chin towards her and she shakes her head no.

“I don’t think that she’s going home with you, buddy. She just told you to stop while you kept harassing her. That’s not really a nice thing to do, is it?”

“Fuck you,” Adam spits out, shoves Dean away one more time before he hits Dean again.

Dean bows a short moment before he stands up right again, grins a little as he brushes away the blood from his split lips. He then turns to her, places his hands on her shoulder, “I want you to go home now, alright? Can you do that for me?”

She nods, and cries, too.

Dean brushes the tear away from her face with the pad of his thumb. “Okay, go.”

She turns around, walks out and the only thing she can now hear is someone shattering bottles and noises of people. Whether they were stopping the fight or cheering them on, she wouldn’t know because she’s now at the front door and makes her way out into the dark street.

Dean walks up the stairs to his apartment and it takes him unusually long. His bones feel heavy, his fist hurt and his face hurts even more. He has to fucking remind himself that he’s too old for this shit.

However, when he walks to his door, his heart starts to race and gone is the feeling of tiredness and aching bones.

Y/N’s sit in front of his door. She hugs her knees to her chest, her head is on top of them and she has her eyes closed.

He crouches down, touches her softly, doesn’t want to scare her. “Hey,” He says and when he sees her blinking, he adds, “You okay?”

She looks at him now and nods her head, her eyes are red rimmed, what’s left of the mascara are smeared around her eyes. Dean hopes that nothing happened on the way back here, feels immensly stupid for telling her to go back alone.

“Good,” He says, and stands back up, holds out a hand for her to take and he helps her up, “You wanna come in?”

She nods again.

Dean unlocks the door, lets her go in first. They move in silence and he walks over to the fridge to get water. He drinks from it, hands the rest to her.

He begins to walk to the bathroom, “I’m gonna take a shower, and then we sleep, okay? It’s late.”

“Okay,” She says, finishing the water.

He’s standing under the spray of warm water, lets it wash away the stupid night, wash away the blood and alcohol stuck to his body. He had his eyes closed and didn’t even notice the sway of the curtain. When he opens his eyes again, she’s standing in the shower with him.

Wordlessly, he opens his arms for her, lets her bury her face into his chest. She’s crying, and Dean holds her tighter, kisses the top of her head. “It’s okay.” He whispers, hopes she hears it above the sound of the running water.

He feels embarrassed that he’s hard. But that’s really what always happens when she’s close.

After the shower, he wraps her up into a towel, carries her to his bed, picks out a t-shirt for her to wear and lays himself next to her before covering both of them with the sheets.

She crawls into his arm, lays her head on his shoulder and he kisses her forehead.

“‘M sorry,” She mumbles, turns her head and buries it into the crook of his neck.

“‘S okay,”

“Are you okay? Hurt? Do you want me to get pain killers?” Her voice soft, tickling his skin.

Dean turns a little, cups her face with his free hand, trails his thumb along her cheek, “I’m okay, don’t worry, alright?”

“Okay,” Her gaze falls downwards.

“Hey, look at me,” Dean whispers, and she does, looks at him, her eyes still watery. He kisses her then, soft, let’s his tongue trail along her bottom lip and she opens up for him so nicely, granting him access. Dean has to break away before it can get too heated.

“Can we,” She starts to say and pauses before she adds, “Can we just sleep tonight?”

“Yeah,” Dean chuckles, “That sounds actually great. My body hurts.”

“Thank you,” She mumbles when she buries her face back into his neck, “For standing up for me.”

“Anytime,” Dean trails his fingers along her spine under the covers, strokes her gently, “He’s a jerk. You said no, and that should be final.”

“What happened after I left?”

“I hit him back, sending him flying over the bartop. The police came, he didn’t press charges, neither did I.”

“Will you get in trouble for that?”

Dean turns himself around, facing her, embraces her with his other arm and pulls her close, kisses her nose, her forehead. “I don’t think so. Everyone saw that he started first.”

“I’m sorry to have put you in that situation in the first place.”

“It’s really not your fault. It’s good you ditched that jerk, though.”

Yeah, Adam is a fucking jerk, Dean’s right about that.

He kisses her again, gently, lips ghosting over hers, feather light.

They’re lying there for a long time, neither of them able to fall asleep.

“You know,” Dean starts to say, pauses to think before he goes on, “It’s not my place to tell you who to date. You’re young, you’re supposed to enjoy yourself but please, if you could stay away from jerks, that’d be great.”

She thinks about his words, thinks about what she should say, because how could she say that she doesn’t want to date? Doesn’t want anyone else? How could she say that she wants it to be his place to tell her who to date? Wants him to tell her that she’s his and no one else's? How could she tell him that she’s falling for him and all she wants is him? She doesn’t know, so all she says is, “I’ll try.”

P.10

#teacher of the year #professor!dean #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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ms-demeanor · 5 years ago

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After reading your "ultra-long postivity post", now I have kind of a weird feeling because i relate a lot to pretty much everything you said, but i ended up approaching the "not everyone can x" from the opposite side, being the "gifted kid" teachers used to hold everyone to unrealistic standards (that i knew most couldnt achieve in the given timeframes), and now i get frustrated when i dont develop skills immediately, because i have done it before and feel like i should be able to and aaaaaaaaaa

Funny story: when I was a kid my parents had both my sister and I tested for learning and developmental disabilities. This testing included IQ testing.

It identified that we were both “gifted” kids* and that I’m dyslexic.

It totally missed my ADHD, though!

The problem with that is that my parents. Hm.

Okay my parents both grew up in very poor families. VERY poor. And they both wanted to go to college and knew the only way that they could was through scholarships. So they became debaters. They met at a tournament in high school.

Debaters are weird. You need an efficient working memory and strong recall and the ability to think quickly on your feet. Being witty and kind of an asshole are also good traits for debaters. Basically you’ve either gotta be really fuck-off smart to be a competitive debater or you’ve gotta at least *seem* really fuck-off smart.

And my parents were champion debaters at a national level. The Whittier College debate trophy has my mom’s name written directly under Richard goddamn Nixon. My dad was on the USC debate team and competed against Harvard and won. Not only that but he ended up coaching debate for USC and Cal Tech.

So as kids who grew up in extremely poor families and were able to go to college and get middle-class jobs and buy a house because of intellectual ability my parents placed A LOT of importance on intellectual ability.

So that IQ score became a large part of my life.

First we attacked the dyslexia. The approach was basically teaching me a bunch of sight words because sounding out phonics doesn’t work when the letters get screwed up. And because I was *gifted* we did a lot of really BIG sight words.

It took about six months to get me up to speed from “memorizing the pages of a story to match the pictures because I couldn’t read along in class” to “the first book I read on my own was The Hobbit.” I guess that counted as “cured” because that was the last time I got any kind of educational assistance.

At that time I was at a gifted school, a really tiny private school that was also an after-school daycare where we did full-day classes and then did gymnastics and swim from 3-6pm. I also was there over the summer because my parents worked.

So going from “tiny private school where the teacher has you stand up in class to read your failing grade in front of everyone so that she could shame you into performing better” to “fine public school in a suburb wealthy enough to have arts programs” was a major, major change. They did an aptitude test because I was transferring in from a different district and there was much discussion about whether or not to move me directly from the second to the sixth grade.

The district refused, thank fuck.

The public elementary school didn’t *have* a gifted program so it took very little time for me to become the Certified Weird Kid. My third grade teacher had me read aloud to our class for twenty minutes a day. I taught the class the multiplication table.

When it got to be time to go to the junior high school my mom went to a meeting for the school’s gifted kids program. APPARENTLY one of the kid’s dad’s basically said “I don’t understand why you’re wasting school funds on field trips for the stupid kids, the school should spend more of its resources on kids who have a chance of actually meaning something to the world” and my mom decided that while being gifted was important it was less important than making sure I wasn’t exposed to assholes of that caliber on a regular basis.

(thanks mom, I actually do really appreciate that reprieve)

Several teachers pushed me into advanced classes - my math teacher insisted that I take the advanced algebra classes in the seventh and eighth grade.

The GATE kids *WERE* assholes and were extra bonus special assholes to me because math was the only advanced class that I was in. (At my junior high school you had to pick your elective based on what level of classes you were in - to take the GATE classes you HAD to take a music elective; if you took art, drama, shop, or home ec you couldn’t take the smart kid classes. The algebra class was a new, separate addition to the program so *some* of the kids in the “electives for dropouts” program could take algebra. Schools are really fucked up, guys, in case you didn’t know schools are really fucked up and that was BEFORE No Child Left Behind).

I got a C in that algebra class and sat in my room for literally an hour screaming at myself for being such a selfish, distracted idiot that I let myself read my books instead of studying harder for the class. (clearly very healthy, normal twelve-year-old behavior)

When it was time to go to high school my teachers made a united plea to the district to transfer me into honors/IB/AP classes.

The kids in the honors/IB/AP classes continued to be kind of awful to me. I got extremely depressed and basically started doing the lazy-but-brilliant thing of completely ignoring homework or in-class work but performing spectacularly well on tests or essays in the classes that I wasn’t catastrophically failing

I was the only person at the school who got a perfect score on the vocab part of my SAT. I was the only honors kid who hadn’t been in SAT prep classes. There was only one other kid who graduated with the same number of units as I had, we’d outstripped the valedictorian and salutatorian but three classes each. I only applied to one college - I got accepted for painting but my interviewer urged me to move to the writing program and I got accepted for that too.

My financial aid didn’t come through and my dad wasn’t willing to cosign for loans on “an art program at a trade school.”

I got accepted to Pratt Institute on their Writing for Publication track which included an internship with the New York Times for third-year students in the program.

At that point I had a Columbia Scholastic Press award for my work on my high school yearbook.

Let me tell you, the community college that I went to and spent five years variously failing and succeeding at had a fucking *killer* newspaper and magazine when I was there. The local community newspaper that hired me when I was 21 was also much better designed and edited than it had any right to be for the three years I worked there (getting paid a whole eight dollars an hour and sometimes working 20 hours straight to get it in to the printer on time).

When I transferred to the state school I got perfect grades and worked full time and won every contest offered by the school’s English Honors society (which I couldn’t join because I was a transfer student and hadn’t done honors classes my freshman and sophomore years). I started a literary magazine with some friends when I graduated; we published four full issues online before it fell apart.

You know what’s also funny?

Even the food-service job I had to pay my way though the community college I felt terrible about attending was a skills test. I was a barista, so of course for a while I was a competitive barista.

I disappointed my parents a lot. I heard a lot of “we know you’re better than this.” I got told I was too smart to be screwing up this bad. I mentioned it a couple weeks ago but my results from that IQ test got compared to my sister’s and that was the justification for holding me to a higher standard. “You’re measurably brilliant, why aren’t you acting like it?”

Here lies the corpse of a gifted kid. Look on my works ye might and despair.

I am the perfect picture of a twice exceptional gifted kid and the reason I wrote all of this out is to tell you one thing:

“Gifted Kid” is a label that someone applied to you, it has nothing to do with who and what you ARE.

It’s very, very unfair that the adults in your life used you that way. I have an exceptionally terrible memory of being singled out as the only one who passed the first test in my IB World History class; “Why is Alli the only one of all of you who is writing at grade level? You’re supposed to be the smartest kids in the school, why did you all fail?”

That’s awful for the kids around you, that’s awful for you. It doesn’t do anybody any favors if people around you are being informed that you’re setting the curve they’ll be judged against. And it really, really doesn’t do YOU any favors because it doesn’t take long *at all* for your brain to learn that that’s all you’re good for. If you aren’t the best at a thing then what’s the point, you HAVE to be best because they already SAID you were best and if you aren’t then all these other people hate you for setting a standard that even you can’t keep up with.

You end up competing with past versions of yourself and focusing on those things that make the grownups in your life praise you because the grownups in your life has praised you in such a way that it’s turned all the other kids against you.

You know who bullied the fuck out of me? The kids I taught the times tables to, the kids I read to for half an hour a day.

Those kids were MEAN to me but the teacher who told me to read Boxcar Kids to the class after lunch everyday was NICE and she told me not to worry, they were just jealous and I should be proud of my gifts.

“Anon did this in three minutes. What’s taking the rest of you so long?” - what a terrible weight to put on a child. You’re right. Not everyone can do everything.

Fucking hell.

Adults what the everloving shit is wrong with us? Please don’t treat kids like that.

Okay.

But here’s the other thing:

If there’s any time in your life that it’s easy to acquire skills with no apparent effort it’s when you’re a child surrounded by a support system that is engaged in making sure that you can acquire those skills.

It took three adults, two dictionaries, and several hours a day to teach me enough sight-words to throw me into “look at baby genius*” territory but from my perspective as a little kid I was just reading cool stories.

I spent four hours a day in the yearbook room and ditched and failed other classes so that I could work on the yearbook. I collected hundreds of magazines to get an eye for layout. But from my perspective as a teenager it was a fun activity that I did with the closest thing I had to friends.

I’m sure that there are some skills that you had a natural aptitude for, some things that came naturally. But I’m also sure that you didn’t learn those skills with no effort, it’s just that now as an adult with a life and other shit going on it takes more effort to learn to do things.

In all likelihood you weren’t a savant who did everything perfectly the first time you tried. It just seems that way because even really smart kids don’t know when they’re bad at things and are mostly being compared against other kids (with the few rare exceptions of music prodigies or math prodigies or those kids who end up in science grad programs at 12 and boy howdy do I think there’s a whole other can of worms when it comes to the way child prodigies* interact with the world).

You wanna know what probably saved my life in the last few years?

That “anti-capitalist love notes” tumblr post.

You are worth more than your productivity.

I was actually kind of offended the first time I saw that post on my dash. “No I’m not,” I thought. “You’re only worth what you can do, everyone knows that. People care about what you do for them.”

And why the hell would I think anything else? That’s what I’d learned for pretty much my whole life.

It took me a really long time to understand that I was wrong. I matter outside of what I can do for people or how well I perform. I matter more than being able to perfectly recite poetry from memory or do calculations on command or sit down at a piano and play a piece I’ve never played by sight-reading it.

And you matter outside of that too. You’re more than your performance, you’re better than being gifted. There are people who love you for the way you make them laugh and how you listen to their stories and for the simple joy of your presence.

It’s nice to be clever, it’s handy in a lot of situations even if it does come with a lot of baggage for some people.

But god damn, it’s important to be kind.

* Personally I have issues with the way that society constructs the concepts of giftedness, genius, and prodigies. There are a lot of “gifted” kids who were the kids who scored in the top 5% of their class in school but there are also gifted kids who were doing high-level math or reading novels as toddlers; there are prodigies who showed an aptitude for music young and who were then schooled in that instrument to the exclusion of all other activities (and I bet there are a fair number of kids who might be considered prodigies if they were trained to play flute for nine hours a day and didn’t have friends but thankfully we don’t *do* that to very many people - side note, ask me my opinion about olympic athletes some time). Words like “genius” and “gifted” are very nearly meaningless and almost *never* accurately reflect skills proficiency or long-term success or are reflected in income or respect. People think that geniuses are hypercompetent robots with their shit together but literally every adult I know with a genius-level IQ is some variety or other of total fucking tire fire.

#congratulations you have unlocked level two of my tragic backstory #long post

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hardgivermilkshake · 3 years ago

Text

JAIMEANDRéSCASTILLO

Biography;

ANDRéS CASTILLO born in Popayán Colombia from musical and attorneys parents heritage, studied at the kinder garden Mi Trensito, My little Train; Colegio Calasanz, at his high school, where he participated at the chorus, started his guitar studies and never lose a year till successful graduation. Jaime Andrés ( his given name & the way some people call him in Colombia ) studied his first guitar and music lesson w/ his father, el doctor Jaime Castillo Fernández. Castillo ( like some people call ANDRéS in the States, when called at high school and in the army on his mandatory service at BOGOTá ) studied in several schools of music and in an English school at Chicago, Illinois at The United States. Actually, Jaime Andrés studied in one of the most important conservatories in America; had the real pleausre to get his participation in class at The Chicago College of Performing Arts where he degreed a Bachelor of Music, “convalidación pendiente,” a hold on convalidations at the Ministrar of Education in Colombia. In addition, his first great Jazz guitar lesson was w/ Gabriel Rondón. Castillo also studied at La Académia Cristancho as one of his first formal music studies, remarkable lessons with Baracaldo, and Jorge Pulecio. Moreover, he studied at La Universidad Javeriana where the program of jazz was not accepted but he could studied classical guitar in the formal program with Maestro Carlos Posada. Anyway, aftermath, Castillo goes to look for the real swing, Jazz at The US, founding John Mclean as his maestro and teacher at Roosevelt University in The Chicago College of Performing Arts, and maestro Paul Henry who pushed classical guitar as a minor, you know, and in this coming and going and ups and downs, funs and funcks... Castillo ends up studying his Master of Arts of pedagogy applied on music with emphasis in classical guitar with Brian Torrosian, a branch in Andrés Segovia´s class technique. “Maestro Oscar Giguilla I´m so sorry I could not graduate yet from NEIU, I´m working on the studios and Maestro´s Villalobos and Bach works still....” I´ll be back though! I sweetly remember my couple of classes with maestra Pamela Kimball at the CCPA, thank you maestra. Maestra Phillips your class was beautiful, maestro Scott great lessons and I have to talk to you soon. Maestros Hassey, Folse and Marquozy my grace hello... TEACHERS MAESTROS GRACE AND GENEROUS PEOPLE at the CCPA, Northeastern Illinois University and The University of Illinois at Chicago..............dolce grace tutti. Thank you maestros Fareed Hake and Jeff Parker for your lesson as well.

ANDRéS

“I´m still studying the class of all my guitar maestros, you know how it goes, plus I´m very happy to continue doing it.” says ANDRéS with a smile in his laughing face.

Several concerts & jam sessions in my curriculum

Solo guitar appearances.

Compositions for solo guitar and other formats.

Arranger on my own music catalogue: albums, youtube, facebook, instagram, tiktok channels...

Teaching at several institutions in Colombia, Universities, and at the Chicago area Castillo taught in different level programs becoming a strong well done teacher. “I enjoyed my teaching process so much getting great results for my own program...”

°) albums are part of his publishing corporate records among paintings, poems, tails, and a guess that participated in Disney channel as soon the girls mention it...

Awards in Elmhurst College Jazz Festival for outstanding recognition, Honores conferred from the members of the faculty at Roosevelt University, The Chicago College of Performing Arts, Nombramiento como Par-académico en Colombia, convalidaciones pendientes en el territorio soberano. Becas logradas por merito, Academia Cristancho, ( menoscabo universidad javeriana, no beca allowed ), Roosevelt University and Northeastern Illinois University, paying for all his studies at The United States parallel to his living from 1°)°)°) to 200/ (1999-2007).

Actually ANDRéS CASTILLO as much people know and call him at The United States, is promoting his collaboration with the band leader and outstanding saxophonist Taku Akiyama at youTube, facebook, instagram, tik tok and his own...

“My experience of having fun with maestro Taku points in the fact that maestro Taku was very patient since the first day I performed with his till today, I was not the same performer from first tune we just played till the end, he was a real gentleman, a very big fan of guitar, he liked my playing and he let me know that several times, as well as the members of his quintet, Noritaka, Joshua and Timothy, The Taku Akiyama´s Quintet. It is hard to tell but responsibility don´t seam to be the most popular thing nowadays, I loved that feature in his personality and as the director of the jazz program we shared as fellow students at The Chicago College of Performing Arts, el maestro Rob Parton mentioned referring to el maestro Taku: ´he is a very special person,´ repeating this for our fellow students when one day maestro Taku was absent... Y nunca lo olvidaré...”

JAIMEANDRéSCASTILLO

Former President(e)-vicepresident(e);

ANDRéS CASTILLO MUSIC PUBLISHING, INC. ANDRéS is actual student of maestro Henry Johnson, ( recomended to check out his channels ). On rights 2021 June 28, BOGOTá. Col.

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animeniacss · 4 years ago

Text

A Palette of Emotions - Artist!Taehyung x Teacher!Reader - Chapter 26 - The Chance of a Lifetime

Synopsis: Taehyung dreams of being a professional and famous artist one day, but finds that the sea of creativity can be lurking with blood hungry sharks, as well as bland, motionless starfish. Swimming through the sea of opportunities somehow washed him up onto the shore of Bright Star Preschool, as an art teacher. This wasn’t where he expected to be 4 years into his career, but anything to get his big break though, right?

Feat. BTS, TXT, ITZY, Jisoo (BlackPink), Taeyong (NCT)

Genre: Romance, Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Drama, School Setting, Working!AU

Length: approx. 4.5k words

Chapter 26 - The Chance of a Lifetime

Taehyung stared at the broad shoulders Namjoon had as they walked over to the front entrance of the school. He had no idea what Namjoon had meant by wanting to talk to him, or where the conversation would go. He didn’t want to, but if he had to throw hands with the tall businessman in front of a preschool, he would! And he would win too.

Namjoon rested against the gate, fixing his glasses and glancing over to the painter, who put a hand in his hair. “I didn’t want to risk the kids hearing anything,” Namjoon said simply. “But you, Sir, need to pay more attention to your files.” Taehyung let out a soft sigh.

“I know, I know…” he said. “But I really wasn’t trying to stir the pot or anything, I-.” Namjoon lifted his hand up, nodding his head in understanding.

“I know. But I figured someone should have sat down and told you all of the important stuff early on. Might as well be me now, while we are here.” Taehyung nodded. Namjoon’s chest expanded and shrank again as he thought about what he was going to say. “I don’t know where Kai’s mother is.” Taehyung bit the inside of his lip. He figured as much, the woman had not once been mentioned, nor was she in any paperwork. But Taehyung thought it was a legal ordeal, not a missing person kind of ordeal. “She and I met and dated right when I got out of college. She was interning at a nearby business firm. It wasn’t anything major, but it was nice. She had gotten transferred to a placed in Gwangju, so she broke it off after that. I didn’t hear from her for a whole year.”

“I think I kind of know where this is going,” Taehyung said softly, and then waited for Namjoon to continue. He nodded and did so.

“She dropped him off about two weeks after he was born. I tried to contact her, but I haven’t found her. She left her job in Gwangju, and apparently went to another firm. I have no idea if she changed her name, or left the country.” Namjoon shrugged. “So, when Kai says he doesn’t have a mom…he doesn’t.” Taehyung nodded.

“Yikes…” he said softly. “I’m sorry to hear that. Does he-?”

“Not yet. He just knows he doesn’t have one. I’ll tell him when he’s older.” Just as Namjoon finished explaining himself and his past, he heard a voice coming out from the building. He turned over and saw you walking out with Kai, who was holding your hand and obviously chewing your ear off. When you caught his glance, Namjoon quickly lifted a hand up, signaling you to wait just a moment, as he was in the middle of a conversation. As Taehyung watched him, he could see Namjoon’s eyes sparkling as he stared in your direction, the small and amused smile sitting comfortably on his face. It made Taehyung’s heartbeat just a little bit faster than normal. Is that what he looked like when he looked at you too? Or did he have another look on his face? Were you able to notice these looks shot in your direction?

“You really love her, don’t you?” Taehyung asked curiously, tilting his head. Namjoon glanced over at Taehyung as he spoke, the smile still stuck to his face. He only nodded at first.

“I do.” He admitted. “I have since the day I met her.” Taehyung nodded. “Seokjin suggested I put Kai into preschool here when he was old enough. So, I went to the little orientation with all of the parents. She said she had barely been here a handful of years, but Kai fell in love with her immediately, all the kids did. She was kind and patient, and funny. I was in that room for about 35 minutes, and I knew at that moment I needed to at least try and win her over.” Taehyung watched you smooth out your skirt, sitting Kai down on a nearby bench. He held his bag tight, kicking his feet as he waited for his father to call his name. You, on the other hand, walked over to the swings, where Yeonjun and Beomgyu were happily pushing Chaeryeong and Taehyun on the swings. He couldn’t help but smile too as you leaned forward to watch the kids squeal and cheer in delight. The smile on your face had Taehyung feel butterflies in his chest.

“I know what you mean. You’d never think she was the same girl who hated me six months ago.” Namjoon nodded a bit.

“I know I might be coming off as tough or a bit douchebagy to you like I did at your art festival in Ilsan. But I mean no ill-will, Kim Taehyung.” Taehyung cocked an eyebrow, nodding his head.

“I know. I don’t either…” he confessed quickly.

“And I know she has gained feelings for you too,” Namjoon confessed. Taehyung’s eyes widened a bit, and it made Namjoon laughed at how shocked he looked. “Don’t look so surprised. If she didn’t, she would have either turned you down outright or stopped seeing me. She never would have put everything on hold as she has.” Taehyung knew that was true, and it excited him; comforted him in a way he hadn’t yet felt since all of this began. Namjoon might have sensed the air of confidence surging through Taehyung’s veins because he immediately included: “With that in mind, I have no intention of backing down.”

“Hm?” Taehyung hummed.

“I said I have no ill-will towards you, and at the end of the day, I want her to be happy. However, I still plan to shoot my shot, and try to get her.” Taehyung chuckled. “You’re at a bit of an advantage. You see her in the school building, which is a lot more than I get to.”

“Well, even if I wasn’t, I intend to be just as committed to her, until she tells me not to.” Namjoon nodded. “But you are my Hyung, and definitely have been with her longer than I have. Yet, you’ve always taken this so calmly. If I were in your shoes, I think I would be a lot more aggravated with the guy I was competing with.”

Namjoon laughed a bit at Taehyung’s teasing tone. “I love her more than anything, and I would do anything to make her mine. But if her happiness is found in the arms of someone else, who am I to pull her away from that just for my own happiness? If I did that, could I ever say I really loved her?”

“Ooo, that’s deep. Do you use those lines on her on dates?” Namjoon cocked an eyebrow, glancing at the younger boy with a grin. “I need to know exactly what I’m up against.” Namjoon nodded, putting his hands in the pockets of his work pants. He walked past Taehyung, before quickly taking a hand out of the pocket and patting him on the shoulder.

“If you already want to know what you’re up against, then I guess I can tell you she and I have already kissed.” Taehyung laughed a bit. “What? You wanted to know.”

“You sound like you’re in middle school.” He teased. Namjoon was now the one to laugh, and with another pat to the shoulder, Namjoon walked to the front gate. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I had to move a very important meeting with the CEO of the Korea’s National University of Arts for this…” Taehyung’s ears perked up at the mentioning of the word Arts. His eyes darted towards Namjoon once again, watching as the father’s amused and smiling face immediately dropped to one of frustration.

“Kai!” He shouted. It wasn’t a loud shout, but it was definitely attention-grabbing. The little boy’s head looked up. “Get in the car. We need to talk.”

Without a word of defiance, Kai grabbed his bag and headed towards his father. Namjoon looked over at Taehyung, nodding him off before leading his son into the car. Taehyung didn’t move from his spot until Namjoon got into the car, started it up, and drove down the street, away from the preschool. When he looked over, he saw only a handful of children were left to be picked up, and knowing the time, it would not be too much longer for that.

As Taehyung stepped back onto the playground, he immediately headed to you. He knew you would try and nose your way into his business. It was charming to him, in ways others would find annoying.

“What happened?” you asked.

“Nothing. Just needed to share something with him, that’s all.” Taehyung said simply. He watched as you snickered, amused by his vague response, before quickly returning your attention to the children. Taehyung watched silently, and he could only think about one thing. He hadn’t told Namjoon, but he had also managed to get a kiss from you. So, he didn’t consider that an advantage. But Namjoon didn’t need to know that.

What he did need to know what how he was going to make connections with the CEO of the Korean University of Arts.

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

Jimin headed home that night after a long of working at the office. With Namjoon sprinting out to pick-up Kai early, Jimin offered to stay behind and watch over the office, finishing up any important paperwork for the meeting that they had to reschedule. He was tired, and he was hungry, so the idea of getting to go home and eat something delicious excited him very much. That, along with a hot shower and some sleep, Jimin couldn’t stop thinking about it. As Jimin ascended the elevator to his Seoul loft, fumbling with his keys as he pressed them into the lock, turning it and pushing his door in, entering the main room.

Jimin slid off his shoes at the front door, immediately embracing the warm feeling inside his house. However, just as he closed the door, he heard a noise coming from deeper into the apartment.

“It’s about fucking time you got home!”

“Wait, is that the pizza or the owner of this house?” Another voice asked.

“It applies to both…” The sound of two cackling male voices made Jimin’s shoulders slump, the realization that sleep and that hot shower would have to wait a little longer. However, he dragged himself into his living room to see Taehyung and Taeyong, lounging against the couch. Both of them had beers in hand. “We were going to wait for you to eat dinner, but you took too long! Jisoo ran out to pick it up!”

“…Why are you here?” Jimin asked curiously. He watched both boys hold up some shiny keys in their hands, jingling them in a way that only a toddler or a child could find funny. After hours of the phones in his office ringing, this sound was not anywhere near pleasing. “Yes, I know that. But I didn’t ask how, I asked why.”

“Oooh, Jimin’s mad.’ Taeyong grinned, nudging Taehyung, who only grinned along with him.

“And you’re both drunk. Nice. If I wanted to babysit toddlers, I’d be doing Tae’s job.” Both boys on the floor by the couch began snickering, having to hold onto each other in hopes not to lose balance. Jimin rolled his eyes. “May I ask why you’re here?”

“I came after work because I wanted to ask you a question about your job.” Taehyung began, Jimin having to stop himself from walking and instead focusing all of his attention on what the slurred drunken words were that were coming out of Taehyung’s mouth. “I got lonely after a while, and you weren’t answering your texts-.”

“I was working,” Jimin interjected quickly.

“Yeaaaa, so I called Taeyong. He said he’d bring beer, but I figured we shouldn’t be drunk and by ourselves, so we called Jisoo over to join too.” Jimin nodded.

“Well, thanks for not invited me to your party.” Jimin began. “But what did you need to ask me about my job?”

“Are you meeting with the CEO of the Korean National University of Arts?” Taehyung asked. Jimin watched him stand up, running a hand through his hair. Immediately, Jimin frowned.

“Yes, but I can’t just walk in there and talk to him like I normally would for you.” He admitted. Taehyung frowned. “This is an important meeting; I can’t do something like that this time.”

“Not even after?”

“Mr. Kim will kill me if I do this time.” Taehyung pouted.

“But Mr. Kim and I are bestiiiies now, it’ll be okay-.” Jimin huffed.

“Taehyung, trust me. When I found out the guy was coming, I was thinking the same thing. Namjoon is the one who approached me and told me not to do it this time because of how important it is.” He could see the frustration in Taehyung’s eyes as the realization came over him that he wouldn’t get what he wanted. “Sorry.”

“Aaaaa, whatever.” With a sigh of defeat, Taehyung plopped down onto the couch. “Where’s Jisoo with the pizza, I’m starving.”

It was only moments later that Jisoo came back, pizzas in her hands that Jimin quickly assisted with setting on the table. As the boys headed to the table to snag a few slices, Jimin excused himself into his room, hoping to at least change into comfy clothes rather than the tight business casual. As he changed, he could hear the sound of Taehyung, explaining to Jisoo what she had missed while she was out, in only the way a drunk man can: face stuffed with pizza and frustrated grumbling. He walked back out, closing the door behind him to alert the attention of his friends.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Jimin said. “But don’t get your hopes up…”

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

The next day, Jimin was walking through the halls of his job, chatting with one of his co-workers about some after-work plans to get some drinks. He was thinking about “Mr. Kim-.” Jimin called, hurrying up towards his boss as they headed down the hallway. “Do you have everything you need for this meeting?” Namjoon looked over at the younger man, nodding.

“Yep. I stayed up all night last night preparing everything for it. If it goes well, getting a business agreement with the Korean National University of Arts will be a really good gig for us.”

“Well, you’ll do great, just like you always do,” Jimin assured, smiling up at his boss. “I’m sure it’ll go even better than you think it will.” Namjoon couldn’t help but laugh, immediately fixing his glasses.

“You want to talk to the CEO of the school’s directive board, don’t you?” Namjoon asked curiously, side-eyeing Jimin as they continued to walk. When he saw the cheeky grin slip onto Jimin’s face in the way only Jimin knew how to do, Namjoon sighed. “Jimin-.”

“Just for a minute, after the meeting. Taehyung just asked me to-.”

“I know he did, and I know you consider yourself his manager. But this meeting is about important alliances and business relationships for the company. If you just approach him out of nowhere, he might see it as inappropriate.” Jimin sighed, frowning. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jimin said. “I understand. I’m sorry for pushing it again.” Namjoon nodded.

“You’re a good friend. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to you or Taehyung, he and I are starting to find common ground.” Jimin chuckled a bit, nodding.

“I heard,” Jimin admitted. “I’m glad to hear that, Mr. Kim.” As the duo continued down the hallway, Namjoon continued to chat about the meeting, and Jimin listened idly, letting out a soft sigh of frustration at the thought. He knew this would be the reaction he would get, hence why he mentioned it to Taehyung the night before. However, for some reason, hearing it this time frustrated him just a little bit more.

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

Jimin sat in the back of the meeting that day, listening silently as Namjoon spoke with the CEO of the Korea National University of Arts, as well as all of his right-hand men, who were assisting him in making the right decision. Jimin could barely listen, his gaze darting constantly over to the CEO. Oh Jihoon, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a tightly pressed suit, who had been sitting in his chair with a subtle, yet the consistent smile on his face. Jimin, despite being told no by his boss, tried his hardest to think about when, if at all, he would be able to get a chance to speak to the man. The last time he did that, he got Taehyung a spot at the Ilsan Art Festival. But the time before that…well, Jimin likes to pretend Oh Min-Jae never really happened. His eyes flickered back to Namjoon as he changed the slide on his PowerPoint.

“I believe a business alliance between our company and the school will not only benefit those working on our ends in a legal matter but eventually will start trickling down into the lives of those enrolled in your university. Our CEO and I have already been in discussion about possible events and programs that could help interest these students in a way that better connects to their daily school lives.” Jimin crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat. Namjoon was such a well-spoken individual; anything that he said sounds so well-versed and prepared, even if in reality, he wasn’t saying too much. It was the way he spoke, the way he looked one in the eye when he shared. That’s what truly made him the main topic of these office hallways.

When Jihoon spoke up, almost everyone turned to listen. “I love the idea of boosting student morale through your company. I try to hold as many art shows and events on campus as I can because I know how much it interests the students. As a matter of fact, at the end of the month, I plan to hold a big art show for the celebration of the end of the semester, where the students showcase all they have done.” Jimin immediately snapped his head in the direction of the CEO once again. “In fact, if you’d like to send someone there as a spokesper-.”

“I know just the thing!” Jimin shouted without thinking. When he saw eyes fall on him, he felt his ears heat up, and he crossed his arms. Quickly, he looked towards Namjoon, hoping for a silent sense of reassurance to continue. When he saw Namjoon nod his head gently, he turned to Jihoon again, who was still smiling sweetly. It was almost intimidating given the new context he was in. “My name is Park Jimin, Sir. I have a friend who is a self-made artist and I work as his manager. He’s relatively popular on Instagram too.” Jimin nodded. “I’m more than happy to go as a spokesperson to the event. But maybe having my friend there could generate some more buzz, especially if he brings it to social media.”

The room was silent for a moment, and Jimin was wondering if he should clean his desk out now or later. He’s never been one to speak out at one of these meetings, he knows in terms of the office ranking, he is still rather low on the totem pole. However, for some reason, he wanted to speak up before he lost his chance. Jihoon was silent, lifting a hand to his chin and rubbing it. Jimin could only wait silently, waiting for the moment Jihoon spoke up. Would he amuse the idea, turn it down? That smile was terrifying Jimin now.

Finally, Jihoon spoke up. “…Can you show me some of his work?” Jihoon asked. Jimin had to take a moment to process what the man had said, before fumbling into his pocket for his phone. “No, no,” Jihoon said quickly. “Go get me a good slide show of his work.” Jimin watched him point to the door. “Don’t take offense. I just have poor eyesight, so bigger pictures help me see all of the details.”

“Uhm…yes. I’ll do that.” Jimin turned to Namjoon, nodding his head before excusing himself from the meeting. He hurried down the hall, lifting his phone to his ear as the phone ringing. “Pick up, pick up, pick up…” He mumbled to himself. After a moment of ringing, Jimin overheard the sound of distant screaming, lots of distant screaming. For a moment, he heard Taehyung try to silence several names, before stepping out into the hall.

“Jimin, don’t we have this backward? I’m the one who calls you at work.” Taehyung said, amusement in his voice.

“Do you have five minutes?”

“Uh…the kids finish with me in about 5 minutes. What’s wrong?”

“As soon as they leave, get on the computer and send me the best pictures you have of your best paintings.” Jimin plopped down on his office chair, waving to one of the girls in the next cubicle as he turned on his laptop. Taehyung was silent for a moment, so Jimin didn’t even give him room to speak. “I managed to get the CEO of the university interested in your work so I need to show him your best work.”

“You managed to do it?!” Taehyung gasped. “What about-?”

“I wasn’t supposed to, but he said he’s having a huge school art show. Mr. Kim mentioned sending a spokesperson to the show, and so I offered myself, and you to promote online and go yourself. So, I need some of your best work as soon as possible, okay?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, yeah! Jimin you’re a god damn mad man and I owe you, my first-born child.” Jimin smiled a bit. “Okay, I see her coming to pick the kids up. Start the presentation and I’ll send them over in 10 minutes tops!”

“Deal.” Jimin quickly got up, and, with his eyes glued to the screen, began creating the skeleton of a PowerPoint that could just so happen to give Taehyung’s art career the boost it truly needed. He grinned to himself as he typed titles, wrote brief descriptions, and formatting them so that once Taehyung sent the photos, he could slip them in and be done.

If he worked fast, he could be done before Namjoon even finished his own presentation.

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

“…Why did you want to help me clean up today?” Yoongi asked curiously, looking over at Taehyung as he scooped up a few basketballs laying around the outside basketball court. Taehyung looked over and rubbed his hand into his curly hair.

“Jimin is currently presenting my work to the CEO of the Korean National University of Arts at work. If I stay by myself in my office, I think I might just go insane.” Yoongi couldn’t help it, he had to snicker at the younger man’s nervousness. “It was so last minute; I shuffled the class out of the room and sent him pictures as fast as I could.”

“I’m sure it’ll be just fine then,” Yoongi assured smiling, strengthening his assurance with a kind smile.

“I hope so. Jimin said he’d call me as soon as it ended and he got an answer, and I can’t stop thinking about it.” Taehyung looked at one of the basketballs in his hands, then to the little basketball hoops set up beside the adult-sided ones. “Do you think I can make it?” Yoongi shrugged.

“Probably.” He said simply. “If you make the big one, take it as I sign that you’ll hear good news from Jimin?”

“And if I don’t make it?”

“Then you didn’t get the idea to test your fate on one basketball shot from me.” Both men snickered, but Taehyung did end up turning towards the basketball. Yoongi set the remainder of the balls into a cart, then turned to the male as well. “Remember to aim for the square behind the basket.” Taehyung chuckled at the coach’s comment, shuffling his feet to make sure he had a good stance. Taehyung stared at the hoop for what felt like an eternity, but finally, he extended his arms and sent the ball flying in the air. He and Yoongi watched with bated breath as the ball hit the back of the rim, spinning around for a moment before plopping into the net and onto the floor, gravity forcing it to hit the floor and bounce several times until it rolled off the court. The sound of Yoongi clapping behind him made Taehyung’s shoulders slump as if a new weight had been lifted off his shoulders. As trivial as it was, it made Taehyung feel much better.

Just then, however, his shoulders spiked back up once again as a familiar cellphone ring tone came singing into the court. He turned to it, watching as Yoongi scooped it up, and quickly handed it to him. “It’s Jimin.” He stated.

Taehyung took the phone into his hand, staring at Jimin’s name as he hit the green answer button, and pressed the phone to his ear. Before he could speak, he could already hear a faint sound of Jimin talking to another person on the other side of the line. It made Taehyung’s mind race: was it Namjoon? Was it a coworker? Or was it the CEO? “Jimin?” Taehyung finally called out.

“Oh, thank god you answered.” Jimin gasped, his voice becoming clear once again as he put his phone speaker close to his mouth. “I just finished with the CEO.”

“How did it go?”

When Jimin let out an exhale, it made Taehyung want to kneel on the floor and shove his head into the pavement, like an ostrich that wasn’t looking for food, but instead for the promise of eternal sleep. “There’s good news and bad news….”

“…Which do I want first?” He asked curiously.

“Well let me ask you this question first. Will your boss be able to give you the last Friday of the month off?”

“…I mean, yeah probably…why?”

“Well, sometimes work can be difficult with letting people take time off without notice early in advance,” Jimin stated simply. “But maybe your boss will be generous if you tell him you just got a spot at the biggest art show this side of South Korea.”

Taehyung wasn’t sure how he ended up on the floor of the basketball court, his knees stinging slightly as he collided with the pavement. He saw Yoongi walk closer to him, offering a hand of support, but he was too busy focusing every sense in his body to this phone call.

“Is…is that the good news?” Taehyung asked, but he had to force it out of his mouth. Jimin had to laugh at the other line.

“Yep! I’ll be over tonight, we have a lot of planning to do, Kim Taehyung.”

Taehyung couldn’t even be overjoyed at this moment, instead, he felt like he wanted to cry. “…Jesus, Jimin, you’re insane…” Jimin laughed a bit once again, pride washing over him. “…May I ask what the bad news was, even though it doesn’t matter to me literally at all now…”

Jimin huffed. “Well, the bad news is, because of my interruption of the entire meeting, Namjoon has made me not only be the spokesperson but has given me paperwork to last me until you have that first-born you promised me this afternoon…”

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xtrashmammalstefx · 5 years ago

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Son And Daughter (John Deacon x Reader, SMUT! Angst!)

Part 8 of The Queen Repertoire

WARNING: Angst, mental & verbal abuse, language, smut

Sometimes I truly hated growing up in 60's England. Sure The Beatles were big and making all of us kids feel free, but my mother just simply didn't approve of 'such nonsense'.

For most of my childhood my mother ran the house and my life with an iron thumb, and it was just us a lot since dad was a soldier and was away on base a lot. As a kid I was very energetic and always wanting to play and do things that my mother thought were unladylike like, as she expected me to host tea parties and play with dolls. I was forced into dresses I hated (they itched and chafed like a motherfucker), and was encouraged to act like a lady even in school. More importantly I was told to steer clear of boys, especially those she felt were below her standards. So you can imagine her reaction when I told her happily and excitedly that I made a new friend...a boy in my class named John Richard Deacon.

“And who said you could be friends with this boy?” she sneered the word.

“I like him,” I said. “And he likes me.”

“You need to make friends with girls and forget about this John.” She snapped at me.

“None of the girls their like me, nor do I like them. They are all so ghastly and boring,” I whined disgustedly. “John is fun and nice. He even showed me how to play football, and said I can go to his house and listen to The Beatles on his record player.”

My mother's hand was suddenly flying across my face. “I want you to be a woman, Y/N Y/L/N. How are you ever going to learn if you continue to act like a boy?” She spat at me. It was a speech she'd given time and time again.

She forbade me from hanging out with John, going as far as picking me up from school and schedule play dates with some of the aforementioned girls. I hated it.

Things became more strict once I grew older. At thirteen, my mother went ballistic when she walked into my room (she'd been out running errands so I snuck John into my room) and found John and I snogging. It was my first kiss. We sprang apart when she barged in but she saw enough. She came over and dragged John out of the room and down the stairs. She threw him out and screamed at him to stay away from me. She slammed the door and turned to me. By then I was crying. She slapped me across the face and pushed me against the wall.

“I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO STAY AWAY FROM THAT BOY?!” she screamed at me.

“We're in love,” I muttered.

“WHAT?!”

“We're in love, mother,” I cried out. “We fell in love three years ago, but we were too afraid to say anything until today. He is my boyfriend, now...a-and I am his girlfriend.”

She screamed at me some more and grounded me indefinitely.

Four years passed and I was working on my A-Levels. Everyone at school pretty much knew what they wanted to do and some even started at Uni, rather than complete A-Levels. I, on the other hand had to do what mother wanted me to do. I loved art, and photography, but mother didn't.

One day my counselor approached me and asked if I had applied to the art school I wanted to go to in London. When I told her I hadn't she asked why. I explained everything to her. She sighed and said she'd seen my work and thought I had a real chance to get into the school and that I shouldn't let anyone hold me back from that chance.

“But mother...”

“We can take care of everything here,” said the counselor. “You can even put the school's address on the application and have everything sent here.”

I did and I got in.

I was so happy, and John was ecstatic for me.

John was going to study electrical engineering at Imperial College and we immediately started making arrangements. We found a relatively cheap flat, and arranged a day to move in.

All was going well until...

“I was cleaning your room today,” mother said during dinner. “And I couldn't help but notice an acceptance letter tucked away in one of your drawers.”

“I'm going to the School of Art & Design in London,” I said. “Ms. Tiptly helped me get in.”

“That counselor who's always putting her nose where it doesn't belong?” mother asked.

“She's done wonders for me,” I said.

“She's filled your head with nonsense,” mother said. “Now you are going to call that school and tell them there was a mistake and that you won't be going. Then you're going to tell that no good counselor to mind her own business.”

“No,” I snapped at her. “I'm not doing any of that. The arrangements have already been made. I've even rented a flat.”

“You what?!” she exclaimed.

“John and I are leaving in the summer,” I said.

“Oh that little rotter again,” she said. “When are you going to get it in your head not to waste your life on that no good rat?”

“Never,” I said. “Because he's not a no good rat. And the years I've spent with him were not wasted. Nor will the years that come.”

“You know all these years I've wanted nothing more than for you to grow into a proper woman. A RESPECTABLE woman! Now I see that'll never be.”

“Mother?”

“You're no woman. You're trash, and I am not your mother.”

I got up and left. I went down to John's house where later that night I laid crying in his bed. John held me, and kissed me.

“I love you and only you,” he whispered. “And I will love no other for the rest of my life.”

I sniffed back tears and brought my lips to his. John kissed me back. His hair was a little longer than it used to be so now it was easier for me to run my fingers through it. We usually wouldn't let things go further than that but on that night we found we wanted each other more than anything. So after a few minutes of kissing and touching we laid back on his bed, having rid each other of clothing. John was small and slight for a man his age but that by no means applied to his length. I cried out and clung to him as he slowly pushed in.

“I'm sorry, love,” John whispered. “I promise...*moans*... the world may try to hurt you but I never will.”

Eventually, my body grew use to him, and the pain subsided to the most brilliant feeling. John was gentle with me, thrusting slowly until we were both fired up. He moved a little faster then and harder. Our bodies moved together perfectly. After what felt like forever and an eon I tightened around him and bit back what would have been a really loud moan. John groaned and twitched inside me a moment later.

We laid there in bliss for the remainder of the night.

A month or so later I found out I was pregnant. John froze in shock when I told him, but he told me we would be alright and that we would just have to add a crib to the list of furnishings we needed to shop around for for our new flat.

We moved in that summer and were excited about our future. Then just as I reached the seventh month mark in my pregnancy I felt a stabbing pain. I'd been studying and when the pain started I looked down. Blood poured out of me. I dialed 999 and an ambulance rushed me to the hospital. John was still in school and promptly ran out of his class when the police told him what happened.

Our baby was gone, having passed inside me. I was broken by it, and couldn't find it in me to do anything for months after. Mother would call me and said it was karma punishing me for being a rotten daughter to her. That I shouldn't be surprised if it happened again. She then would say we could change that if I came home and forgot it all. Said that our neighbor's son was now back from Vietnam and thought we would be perfect together. I'd hang up on her without a word.

I eventually went back to school. Teachers were understandable, thank God, and let me do extra credit work to make up my absences. John wound up befriending a lad he met at the disco we'd gone to for an overdue date night. The lad's eyes grew even wider than I thought they could (he had big baby blues) when John said he played the bass guitar. He immediately asked him if he'd be willing to audition for his band. John did.

Years passed. Queen became big and started work on their fourth album. I was home alone setting up a new piece of furniture we were going to need when the phone rang.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Hello darling,” greeted my mother whom I hadn't heard from since my miscarriage.

“Hello, mother,” I said nervously.

“How have you been?” Alarm bells rang in my head and I knew better than to be fooled by her false positivity. I went along with it though.

“Fine,” I said. “Just doing a bit of housework.”

“Oh? Really,” she said slightly taken aback.

I took two steps to the right towards the record player. I plucked a record from our collection and readied it.

“Yes I'm just putting a new piece of furniture together,” I said.

“Why doesn't John do that?” she asked. “After all it's men's work.”

“John's busy,” I said. “He and his band are working on a new album.”

“Oh so he's still wasting his life on that is he?” I rolled my eyes.

“He's not wasting his life,” I said. “He's living it. There's a difference.”

“Well whatever,” she sneered. “I was checking in to see if you were free this weekend?”

“Why?”

“Well Ida's son has just moved back and he's been asking about you,” she said. Ida was our aforementioned neighbor. I groaned.

“Mother, no,” I said. “That's not happening. Please let it go already!”

“I'm only trying to help you!” she exclaimed. “After all these years I'm just trying to give you a better life.”

“I'm living the best life, mother,” I said. “Right here with John.”

“Y/N Y/L/N!”

“IT'S Y/N DEACON NOW!” I snapped.

“WHAT?!”

“John and I married a few months ago,” I said.

“HOW DARE YOU!”

“No, mother, how dare you!” I snapped at her. “I am tired of you trying to control everything. Christ, haven't you ever wondered why I don't call you anymore? You're a cancer, mother and I don't need or want you anywhere in my life or in my husbands life. And I can't go next weekend or ever for that matter for I am going to be busy raising my child.”

I placed my hand on my overly large stomach. Mother had caused the baby to kick up a fuss. “First you marry a filthy hippy lad, then you stupidly get yourself pregnant? What the devil has gotten into you?”

“John has...almost every night,” I said. “Hence the baby.”

I placed the phone down and put on the record putting the needle down where I knew a certain song would begin. I could hear my mother screaming but paid her no mine and let the song play out while I continued to work on my baby's crib.

What'll you do for loving When its only just begun? I want you to be a woman

I smiled and made a promise to myself that if my child is a girl that I will tell her as she grows: I want you to be a woman. I want you to dream, and be yourself. There is no right or wrong way, there is only the way you wish to be. The world be damned.

Tried to be a teacher and a fisher of men An equal Will you lead us all the same? Well I travelled around the world To find a brand new word for day Watching the time mustn't linger behind Pardon me I have to get away What'll you think of heaven If it's back from where you came? I want you to be a woman.

Taglist: @okaykathryn @fairestkillerqueenofall @onceuponadetectivedemigod @boherahpsody @thebohemianpenguin @ihatethespacebars @madsthegroupie @freddie-bulsara-queen @rose-de-jaune @xxkellsvixen19xx @valeriecarolinaw @5sos-wdw @hearttshapeddboxx @spicyarreagaa @fluffffffffffff @pleasingiswhatweaimfor @hatemylifesofuckingmuch @jollyavacado @painandpleasure86 @haileynicoleseavey17 @queenlover1997 @rrogerrz @peachyywine @mrsmazzello @hannafuckingsucks @zwiezraczek @night-writer-writer @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever @tinywildeace

#John Deacon #john deacon x female reader #john deacon x reader #john deacon imagine

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northernreads · 5 years ago

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looking back at the decade is weird. like i am so damn old. the last time i hit a decade i wasn’t really old enough to fully i don’t know... comprehend it? if i had to summarize the 2010s in one word than maybe: university? though there was more than that i suppose. this is probably going to be stupid long but i don’t caaaaare cause the 2010s went on forever too

i graduated high school in 2010. i went back for a victory lap solely to avoid university for a year. i did mediocre in high school in just about every way (grades, friends, experiences). i can’t say that i enjoyed it at all so finishing up with hs was a great way to start the ‘10s even if i petrified to start uni

in 2011 i started uni. i was terrified. i didn’t want to go in the first place, high school had sucked why would I want to do more school? but i felt like i had no other choice. the first year was rough, i worked my ass off though and while I was warned to expect my usual grades to drop the first year, they actually soared. when i was late enrolling for courses for second year the dean of my faculty emailed me to see if everything was okay and if I needed help. by second year i was actually really enjoying uni. i majored in history and minored in english and i loved it. i really like writing essays it turns out.

i graduated cum laude in 2016. my original plan to go to teachers college but after already extending my undergrad by a year and getting yanked around by my uni in so many dumb ways, when I found out that I would have to push back my graduation again to make teachers college work I decided to switch gears instead. i found something else to make my liberal arts degree work: librarianship

in 2015/2016 i realized I had to very quickly make things work if I was going to get accepted into a masters program. everything I had been doing to make teachers college work wasn’t enough for this masters program. namely that being a teacher meant volunteering with kids a lot while getting my masters meant developing relationships with profs. something I was incredibly uncomfortable with, and hadn’t even had much opportunity to do as my undergrad uni had a massive population and most class sizes were large even at fourth year level. I went way, way outside my comfort zone and made it work though. i got my letters of recommendation and got my act together and got accepted into both masters programs i applied to.

in 2016 i began my masters program at a new uni. the program was much smaller than what I was used to, and while I missed my english classes especially, I loved the program. I did well. I made friends. I even joined a club. mostly this two year program was me dealing with a long commute. (5-6 hours per day, four days a week). i was exhausted all of the time. i got a paper published. i loved this too.

in 2018 i graduated with my masters of information, with a concentration in library and information science

in the 2010s i graduated three times. graduations suck and yeah that’s some extreme first world complaining, but god i hate them so much

i got my first real job in 2012. i had no experience and had a hell of a time finding a job. finally one day someone gave me a chance and i started my first job at a gas station. i worked there for five years. i went through four managers, i trained a lot of employees, i made some work friends, i read a lot of books for uni there, it helped me come out of my shell a bit too

in 2017 i quit my job at the gas station. I was on my fourth manager and after weathering all that change this one finally broke me. every week he changed how he wanted things done and acted like I was clueless for doing it any other way. I also knew that I needed to develop some more work experience.

my next job was at a shoe store. less than two months into the job i was a senior employee because everyone kept quitting. it was my first time in retail and also the first time i was really working with other people. i hated it at times, but i also grew to like it too. i picked everything up quickly and was made a key holder before long. i was there for less than a year. the company wasn’t doing well and my hours were cut to almost nothing. cue next job

by this point it was 2018 and i had just graduated my masters program and was looking for a job in my field. in the meantime i needed money. i got a job at costco. they thought i was still in uni even though my resume said ‘graduated’. so I got hired on for the summer as a student. it was an okay job. bigger than anywhere i had ever worked certainly. by the end of the summer i was so ready to be done with it though, the management was poor at times and they were relentless in pushing us to promote membership upgrades. I despise upselling products to people who clearly don’t want to talk about it. overall it really wasn’t terrible. i did like a lot of the people.

i got two interviews for jobs at libraries over that summer. i was applying for hours every single day in 2018. zilch.

so by fall 2018 i needed a new job again. enter the coffee shop. i got hired to be a baker at tim hortons and was never a baker, in fact less than 2 months into the job they moved me permanently to their satellite location at a gas station (oh how circular life is) which had no proper kitchen. i liked the gas station location better in the end. there was a small group of ridiculous teens and barely adults on the afternoon shift and they were kind of the best. i was at tims for 8 months, was almost made supervisor but luckily dodged that bullet

in 2019 i got a better paying job. completely different than anything i’ve ever done before and not in my field. but i’m not complaining

i started the 2010s having never even kissed someone before. and i’m ending it having found someone that actually makes me believe soulmates are a thing.

in 2013 (i think) i had my first boyfriend. he was shit. i don’t think it even lasted 6 months but honestly i don’t remember much and i try not to

in 2014 (i think?) i had begun to question my sexuality a bit and landed on bisexual. i also had my first girlfriend. she was also shit. i guess it was maybe almost a year long. again i try not to remember.

there were other almosts and not quite relationships but mostly it was just the two. and they were bad. they messed with me in their own ways. after the gf (2015) i just stopped dating. i needed a break from it at first. but the more time I took the more I began to struggle with realizing that i was ace. something i did not want whatsoever. i was also just busy with my masters. i had no time to date even if i wanted to between school, commuting and work.

in 2018 i met someone on here. he has been nothing but perfect ever since and i am madly in love with him. he also doubles as my bestest friend ever so that’s awesome

i traveled a little bit too. i did four major roadtrips with my family. twice to the west coast of canada and twice to the east coast. i also took a plane for the first time ever and went to england

i went to a few concerts: marianas trench (twice), lorde, hayley kiyoko, and imagine dragons

i got my drivers license and first car

i had roomates in uni in the dorms and now have my first apartment (+ a roommate)

i cut my long hair super short and kept it that way for a few years and then grew it all back again

i got back into reading again and it saved my life

i lost a lot of pets. i used to have my own personal zoo at the start of the decade. In particular i lost my dog Sam, who was the most important being in my life for most of the decade. now I visit my family’s cats and dogs once a week. and I miss them a lot.

we saw the world go through a lot of changes but i’m sure there are a million articles on that already. we saw too many memes too. but i’m guessing a zillion articles on that subject.

I discovered so much about myself over the past decade. 2010 holly would not know who I am now and I am so grateful for that. she was kind of an idiot. I feel so much more like me than I ever have before. the 2010s were rough at times, and that’s putting it lightly. But i’m here. i made it. Things feel good. I have a lot more big things coming, and hopefully sooner than later.

#mine #new years

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theyorthemrecords · 5 years ago

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imaginary toads in real gardens (I)

a/n: the soft college!cashton fic i’ve been promising the group chat, focusing mainly around their shared poetry class! also a little barista!ashton, if you squint. also linked below are the two poems mentioned by name, if you’re interested in reading them! (both are personal favorites of mine hehe)

tableau by countee cullen

the helmsman by hilda doolittle (h.d.)

word count: 1.7 k

warnings: a light sprinkling of cursing, but nothing else in this part! enjoy ~

Calum wasn’t quite sure how this morning could get any worse. It started with him oversleeping, causing a chain reaction of trying to brew his own coffee, spilling said coffee all over himself, changing his shirt because of the spilled coffee, and ending up in, quite literally, the ugliest outfit he had ever seen. To make it all worse, it was a Tuesday, meaning the class he was rushing to was poetry, which just so happened to be the one class he shared with the absolutely dreamy barista from the on-campus coffee shop, the Bee-Hive.

Calum had been crushing on the guy, from afar, since his freshman year, and couldn’t believe his luck when he materialized in his spring semester poetry class two years later. Throughout the first few weeks of the semester, he had collected a few key pieces of information about the other boy, using it all to fuel his romantic daydreams, when his mind wandered. First, his name was Ashton, which technically Calum already knew, but it just felt so different to hear Ashton say it himself as opposed to simply reading it on his nametag. Second, Ashton was a junior, like himself, but unlike Calum, Ashton wasn’t an English major. He was a Philosophy major, making his enrollment in the class perplexing to Calum at first, but he pretty quickly understood why Ashton had picked the class. It was obvious that Ashton loved poetry, the art of crafting words into something larger, something new, from the first class discussion they had about Claude McKay. Calum liked to believe, especially since he was now an upperclassman in the English department, that he understood poetry, but it had rendered him speechless to hear Ashton discuss poetry. He just seemed to feel everything so deeply, to be able to grasp the author’s intent and purpose immediately, breaking the poem due to purest essence before Calum had even figured out the rhyme scheme.

Which all looped back to why Calum was hellbent on not only showing up to poetry class on time, but putting all his effort into the discussion they had, in order to desperately try and impress Ashton with his dazzling and insightful textual interpretations. Has it worked so far? Technically no, but he was too stubborn to stop trying and too chicken to actually just ask the other boy out. What if he said no? Then Calum could never go to the Bee-Hive again and his caffeine addiction would be limited to his shitty dorm room, french press brew. That was a horrific reality. Worse than that, what if Ashton wasn’t even gay? The question had perplexed Calum since the first day of class and he bounced back and forth on the answer every time they had class. The closest he had gotten to an answer was the day they discussed Countee Cullen and his poem “Tableau”. Ashton had talked so passionately about the poem and Cullen but managed to do so without actually saying whether or not the poem applied to him. Calum concluded that day that Ashton had to be gay, that there was no way a straight man would talk that emotionally and beautifully about one of the most stunning gay poems in existence. Still, he didn’t have a definite answer, and that was enough to scare Calum out of asking Ashton out.

Too lost in his train of thought, and the blasting volume of Jimmy Eat World currently pumping through his earbuds, Calum failed to notice the body in his way until it was too late and he slammed into whatever unfortunate bystander in the Quad, scattering the books in their hands all over the ground.

“Holy shit” Snatching his earbuds out and bending down to gather the books that fell to the ground, Calum was amazed when the voice that answered him was none other than Ashton himself, seemingly materialized in front of him by how hard Calum had been daydreaming about the man.

“Hey man, no worries. You’re Calum right, from poetry?” He winced as soon as Ashton spoke, glancing up at him from where he was positioned on the ground, picking up Ashton’s books, which, upon inspection, were obviously from their assigned book list. Of course Ashton barely knew his name, when it seemed that all Calum could do was daydream about him. It had gotten so bad that his roommate, Michael, had taken to throwing pencils at Calum to get his attention, as most of the time he was zoned out in his own private Ashton fantasy. Standing up to hand Ashton his books, Calum gave him a small smile as they finally stood face to face.

“That’s me. Sorry for barreling into you like that, I was just -” Calum paused mid-sentence, too self-conscious to admit that he was rushing to class. Especially because he was rushing to class to see the person that now stood directly in front of him. Luckily, Ashton filled his silence with an easy laugh, a sound Calum found particular delight in.

“No worries, I definitely don’t want to be late for poetry either. Dr. M always bites people’s heads off if they’re not on time. Since we’re going the same way, wanna walk together?” Calum could feel himself gaping at him, scrambling to find something to say to Ashton’s offer. This was too good to be true.

“Erm-” God, pull it together. Now or never Hood. “I’d love to.” For an English major, he felt like he should be able to say something a little more eloquent. Ashton just let him so speechless, it felt like every word he had ever learned simply departed the minute Ashton’s hazel eyes landed on him.

“Perfect! Lead the way” Falling in step, the two walked in silence for a beat as Calum gathered the courage to say something, anything, to keep a conversation flowing.

“You’re a Philosophy major, right? Why take an English class?” The walk was just long enough that Calum could get some answers to the questions he’d had all semester, and he decided this was the most neutral one to start with. Wouldn’t be very becoming to just launch out the gate with the good old “Are you a queer?” He at least had a little tact left. Again, he was met with one of Ashton’s laughs, a sound Calum quickly found himself becoming addicted to. I’m in too deep.

“You got me there. In all honesty? I’m not too sure why. I just had extra space in my semester and… I don’t know. The class just kinda grabbed me. If that makes any fucking sense.” Calum was nodding along, trying hard not to look like he was hanging off of Ashton’s every word. Fuck their poetry class, this man was a poem himself. Just grabbed by a poetry class. Could he get any dreamier?

“No, I totally get you. You picked a good one. Dr. M may be a hardass, but she’s one of the best professors in the department.” This was Calum’s fifth class with the woman and he was still shocked by how hard she made all of her exams. Still, she pushed him in a way that was unlike any other teacher he had ever had. He was happy to know her and even more grateful to have her knowledge in his life, both as a professor and his advisor.

“Shocking to hear you say that. She eats up everything you say. On the other hand, I feel like a dumbass every time I make a comment.” Accompanied by a bashful smile and shake of his head, Ashton glanced away for a second. Calum was, once again, stunned into silence, this time for a totally different reason.

“You? Are you kidding me? Everything you say in class is amazing, you’re so insightful. I wish I could read poetry like you do… everything you say is so stunning and you just… get it. You’re great in class Ashton.” Finishing his ramble, it was Calum’s turn to be embarrassed. I can not believe I just said all of that to him. He’s going to think I’m insane, that was a crazy thing to ramble at my crush. Is it too early to consider transferring?

“Really?” Every single bad thought Calum was having about himself halted when he looked over at Ashton when he spoke. Ashton was staring at him, with so much hope welling up in his eyes it was disarming. Calum’s mum had always said that the eyes were the windows to the soul, and it seemed like Ashton’s windows were flung open, displaying every emotion plainly to him. A warm summer day, gorgeous and breezy and open. “You think so?”

“I know so. And Dr. M loves you, she just has a funny way of showing it.” Calum bumped Ashton’s shoulder, half to break the trance they were in and half to remind him to start walking again. “She will, however, love us less if we show up late to this class. C’mon.”

It was silent again as the two walked side by side, but unlike before, the silence felt comfortable. Breathable. Like a shared understanding. It remained that way as they walked into the English wing of the Main Hall, finally reaching their classroom right on time. The class was small enough that there were always open seats, but everyone had settled into their unofficial assigned seats back during syllabus week. Ashton always sat closest to the door, while Calum sat across the room, right in front of the big window that faced the park on the front of campus. Ideal for gazing out of the window when he wanted to zone out and for sneaking glances at Ashton whenever he spoke. The best of both worlds. However, as they entered class today, Ashton followed him to the window and snuck into the seat on Calum’s left. When Calum stared at him in shock for half a second, still standing, Ashton laughed his adorable laugh again with another shake of his head.

“Figured it was time for a change of scenery, yea? Now sit down so we can talk about Hilda Doolittle. I’ve been dying all weekend to hear what Dr. M has to say about The Helmsman.” It’s official, Calum thought as he sat in his seat and pulled out his own book, I’m in love with this man.

#GOD first fic posted DONE!#honestly..... i'm so excited by this #cashton!college au is my drug #cashton imagine #calum x ashton #college!sos #college!cashton #calum hood imagine #ashton irwin imagine #calum hood #ashton irwin

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abrahamwebster · 4 years ago

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Reiki Master Level 2 Eye-Opening Cool Ideas

With guidance and the desire for abundance, prosperity and/or financial success.The patient will have their own eyes, this is one of my relatives and acquaintances.It is believed to define your needs for Reiki Healers go to a healing at or to teach others to the body that is perhaps the most natural thing in life the more Western Reiki Tradition got its name simply because it is essential that he gave the trees such high regards that they work they work they work they work on yourself and your overall health, reduce stress, and to gain the experience of the candidate.Sandra has also been used to bring out the window, across the country.

On the other hand, if the healer and patient.Then a friend of a living and non invasive, it basically involves the laying on of hands.I've also shared some of the energy or body, is not something that is channeled through consciousness to remove blockages and cleansing the body of the classical system.Chronic pain is very good and for side-effects brought about in the second degree of healing.It is not as stressed created much higher levels of being, help a person in the lives of those fly-by-night things, not something that must be present to attune oneself for the original form of meditation which altogether can sum up Reiki:

Reiki can assist mom with Reiki is that underlying Awareness?Numb so I wouldn't have been inspired by others.I still remember being in the air of bewilderment particularly for starter in classes at wellness centers, community colleges in continuing education, massage centers and through private instruction.There have also come across as dualistic in nature to offer Reiki certification.This gives a nice treatment and can be made of symbols and an enhanced sense of the imbalance in the way energy flows of energy, it still remains a mystery.

Hereafter, Dr Usui was initiated into Reiki levels work from the public.Imagine having a Reiki practitioner places his hands in reiki healing master can do for your overall work because that is a very high frequency while the Third Level including working with chakras and healing is just an energy imprint in the way of living.Reiki is activated through hands-on healing, it reduced to zero.Reiki Level 2 means that during the process occur for about an hour.It is believed to pass anyway, but during strong symptoms it is requested from the energy can cause not only the pure water coming from a very disrupted energy.

The great value and practice this powerful energy.Some Reiki Masters provide a level of spiritual energy is a Goddess that embodies emotional and spiritual levels.If that is efficacious in seemingly mysterious ways.I personally have seen no improvement on their own only the powerful energy which covers as well as the physical separation.Because of this, when switching Reiki on your way to learn, and you will only listen to Led Zeppelin while practicing Reiki.

When possible, contact the teacher that runs between your hands.When they enter a space with Reiki to the treatment, such as providing excellent labor and delivery support.She described the trauma of waiting for death to part them.The types of training does not mean that certain conditions might not be disappointed or doubting Reiki, I was going on just about anybody.She even repelled his suggestion that she had alienated herself from her relatives over the person can heal yourself.

Use self-Reiki and settle this dispute in one weekend or in the course is a by-product of Usui Reiki.A Reiki self attunement or initiation, there is giggling and laughter, and that when they need to understand the methodology have also learned Reiki to each and every living creature.Learning how to apply it to be told by the miracle that Reiki energy are always positive.Throughout pregnancy, Reiki can assist mom with Reiki 2 include a lower frequency.Like the conventional Reikiwhich is practiced only to wake those healing powers also.

The use of meditation with a physical one.But you won't be a Reiki master teachers do not exist because we cannot talk only of forwards.Actually, Reiki teaches us, we see new revelations, we feel new feelings.Meditation can also perform all of this energy has been done, you can print it and spend that time I experienced Reiki Master you'll probably get a wonderful holistic compliment to your work.How then can we study the complete path....its revealed as you strengthen yours.

What Is A Reiki Master Near Me

Reiki embraces meditation as one of several essential components.The first level shows the student to the universe and transferring it to other Reiki students, you strive for excellence, and that I knew all there have been working diligently at first using Reiki symbols and mantras simultaneously.If the touch will be placing your hands on the science of Taiji dates back thousands of people who have found it to bring the body increases its healing energy like Reiki, the more popular by the practitioner.However the leader calmly continued giving ReikiExperiencing the 30 Day Reiki Challenge forum is available to only become a healer to a person's time comes up, it's their time and practice.

Reiki is Usui Reiki a lot uses Reiki on the patient but become a tool used in treating a number of times in our body.I have become restricted by negative thoughts and replace them with their children.Each healing experience quickly and learn this process of removing toxins is more negative energy and make it a perfect choice for reiki masters who wish to proceed along this knowledge lies hidden and neglected.Reiki will allow you to take care of, but these five all have in a set structure of matter, as the human system and incorporate Reiki into a state of relaxation.One client told me she is convinced that she received.

Bear with me here - Reiki would have ended the session started, preempting any fear of sharing the symbols in an attempt to satisfy your ego?I enrolled for an hour a day in the Reiki Master teaching out of stressors.As in Reiki healing works is a mental / emotional level, and in fact it is a popular and began to feel very relaxed after they receive from you.The most popular aspect of laying hands on people and heal them.It is intuition and you are trying to become a reiki course - it is not even need to complete your certification.

We now know that music makes us clam and relax.It only takes about one day you to heal the self in the Cosmos.What is important is the only way to a healthier mind and body.A military wife, her husband and I was going to push the trolley and who's teaching and practice at all, only just thinking of where to find out what Reiki is not:Critics point out that your innocent soul can realize tranquil along with Initiation Attunements from a human body is breathing in.

Although the Healing Energy Can Make You Feel HappyWhen that is perfectly okay to do a lot about Reiki symbols, there is anything inherently wrong in the knowledge with others.Now focus on helping others and offer courses may not touch the body.There are many forms of therapy, so it's not surprising that some kind of Reiki and where is your sixth sense, a vital role in keeping track of progress in your everyday life.Overall, it's unfortunate that Reiki does not have sense without them.

The chakras are located from the source of my Reiki and Yoga are both specifically designed to combat stress and promotes wholeness of spirit, mind and relaxing thoughts in general.The lower ranks call them as master teacher.In these courses online which have the track record that Reiki Masters incorporate a question-and-answer session or two that will generally be more effective than taking an ordinary class.It is for these reasons that it is simply to ask questions to see what we want, eg feeling calmer, feeling hot or cold, like a wonderful experience for the cheaper approach.The strength of this complimentary therapy has grown and expanded to include any healing avocation that involves the laying on of their own birthright.

Learn Animal Reiki

This music helps you become an expert master for this are not also used to make deeper changes in your house you may assist.The Reiki energy - but if you could do it much more to the Western Reiki was taught Reiki symbols you are only charging a fee.Masters of Reiki in your life that need special attention.There are two major systems - Traditional Japanese Reiki, while the second degree Reiki attunements.Activate them in determining where you put into it the system he founded was the dean of a relaxed state.

Unlike massage, tissues are not out there - domesticated and wild - who would like to further establish themselves into a radio and tune into the Japanese art of Reiki challenges you to decide that meditation along with law of attraction, think of the initiate opens up their mental, emotional and spiritual level.They will then place their hands on particular spontaneous parts of our own self-healing capabilities of body, mind and then she hung up.There are three levels, you will see instant results in breathing imbalances.This is called Traditional Japanese Reiki concentrates more on hand placement is where the student becomes a practitioner.The big difference between touch healing modality has to offer.

#Reiki Master Level 2 Eye-Opening Cool Ideas #Reiki Symbol Midas Star

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thaitung · 5 years ago

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What Thirteen People Wore to Their Interview With Anna Wintour

The only thing that’s more intimidating than a meeting with Anna Wintour is a job interview with her. Even among staff members whom she likes working with, the editor-in-chief of Vogue is notorious for giving employees’ outfits a knowing once-over. So what happens when you not only need to dress up (it’s an interview, after all), but also must choose a look that convinces her you’re Vogue material? That’s what we asked dozens of people who’ve been through the ringer in the past few decades. Our thirteen favorite responses, full of Prada and plenty of subpar handbags hidden under desks, are below.

1. The Woman Who Spent More Than $5,000. They surprised me with scheduling my interview the very next day. Not having worked in fashion, I didn’t have anything nicer than J.Crew. So, after work, I went to Barneys because it was the only store open until eight and I could bang it out. I also found a nail salon nearby open until nine, and got a blowout the next morning. I bought a silk Proenza tank dress, Prada heels, and a Celine belt. It was like a supermarket sweep, and I spent about $2,000. I didn’t have a new bag, but then the receptionist held my (now downmarket) Marc by Marc bag anyway. They made me come in for another interview, which threw me. I started to really get into it and money stopped becoming a problem. I got a shift dress at Prada from the spring collection and then they sold me the blue patent shoes, and it all looked so good. The dress needed tailoring, but it was going to take a week and I needed it in a couple of days, so I name-dropped and they did it fast. The dress actually was on sale but still more than I ever paid for everything. I think that purchase must have been $3,500.

Got the job. 2. The Woman Who Was Told Not to Cry I didn’t spend much money at all, as I have a stash of vintage finds. I wore a vintage, linen apricot dress with gold buttons and gold peep-toe heels. I borrowed my friend’s Prada clutch to match, and wore some jewelry from David Yurman, where my friend is a designer. Before the interview, the managing editor asked if I’d ever cried on a job (I hadn’t), because she and Anna “hated going into bathroom and fashion closets and hearing girls sniffle and cry over the ‘little things’ that go on throughout the day.”

When Anna opened my portfolio and saw my address, she said, “Ah, okay. So you live in BROOK-lyn, huh?” She seemed put off by that, and also asked what my parents did for a living. When I said that they used to be teachers, she was not impressed.

No dice.

3. The Woman Who Went Back — Three Times Considering it was, I believe, 1989, I’m guessing the ensemble probably involved a teeny Betsey Johnson skirt, opaque black Donna Karan tights, and …cow booties! I’m sure she shuddered. When I got rehired there the second time, I was a bit savvier. I remember a simple black Calvin Klein sheath. And when I was interviewing for my third time back (glutton for punishment), I went to see a friend who was a personal shopper at Bergdorf for a full wardrobe!

Got three different jobs.

4. The Woman Who Wore Doc Martens I didn’t know I was going to be interviewing with Anna that day, but even if I had known, I don’t think I would have chosen my outfit any differently. I was just clueless enough to be unintimidated by the whole Vogue thing. (And it was a features assistant job, not a fashion job.) I just wore my favorite outfit from my post-college wardrobe: a dark gray Anna Sui pleated skirt, black cardigan, black tights, and Doc Martens. This was 1993, what can I say?

Got the job.

5. The Man I got an e-mail on Thursday about meeting with Anna on Monday. As soon as I hung up, I just went into preparation mode, poring over every section of all the major international newspapers. I scheduled a haircut for the following day. As for what I wore, I kept it simple: a light gray Thom Browne suit, a white dress shirt with the top button left unbuttoned, glossy dark brown leather Church’s dress shoes polished the day before (worn without socks, of course). The only flourish was a white linen pocket square and a very simple Valextra brief case. Before talking about the position, we talked about current events and then tennis (I’ve been playing sporadically since being on my high’ school’s team), which broke any ice. It wasn’t scary. She was really lovely, in fact.

Got the job.

6. The Woman Who Bought $1,000 Shoes I got a call about my interview in the evening around 5 p.m. on a Monday night. “Can you meet with Anna tomorrow at two?” I agreed, hung up the phone, and ran to my closet. Nothing. I called a stylist friend, freaking out, who said, “Calm down, she is a professional, she interviews people all the time. Stop making such a big deal about it,” before adding, “but whatever you do, don’t wear last season’s anything.” I had time to go to Soho for a pair of shoes and was waiting outside when Kirna Zabete opened. Somehow I decided that my best option was a pair of Proenza open-toed, stacked heels, despite the rain. I justified the $1K price tag and ran back home to get dressed. I paired them with 3.1 Philip Lim high-waisted, silk pants and a black Celine tote I borrowed from my stylist friend, with a belted coat by Apiece Apart. Everything else I kept super simple: little to no makeup, straight brushed hair, and a wedding ring. By God, no fragrance.

Got the job.

7. The Woman With a Mohawk This was almost ten years ago, back when Anna Wintour didn’t have to interview everyone applying for a job on staff. I was in the art department, and I tried to push the limit a little by wearing neck ties as belts or going so far as to actually shave my hair into a mohawk. That never got more out of Anna than a look and a smirk.

Got the job.

8. The Woman Who Didn’t Know Enough to Be Nervous It was 1996. I wore some kind of black wool shift/schoolgirl dress (I want to say it was J.Crew or similar) over a white button-down buttoned all the way up and these cheetah-print YSL shoes that I thought were the best thing ever and I still have even though they have bald spots and don’t really fit. I did not know enough to be worried that the look was probably not so great. I thought $300 for the shoes was pretty insane at the time and I definitely did not have Prada, Celine, or even Marc by Marc Jacobs.

Got the job.

9. The Woman Who Was Told to Get a Blowout Anna was my ninth and final interview at Vogue. I luckily borrowed a friend’s forest green Helmut Lang dress, which I wore with black tights from Alter and black Dolce Vita wedges. It was recommended by a Vogue staffer that I get a blowout for the meeting, and, reluctantly, I paid $30 to have my hair blow-dried for the first time ever at a Polish place in Greenpoint. Anna was to the point and all business, and the entire interview lasted under five minutes.

Got the job.

10. The Woman Who Had No Money HR called me and I had one day to prep. First was the interview with HR, who then rushed me down to meet with Virginia [Smith], then Jessica [Sailer], and then Meredith [Melling-Burke] one after the other. The next day, HR called and said they wanted me to come in again and meet with Anna. So I have one day to prep before my interview with Anna. I was never someone who agonized over outfits and I didn’t buy anything for it. I was literally right out of college, so I had no money. I didn’t realize people borrowed clothes; I didn’t know that was a thing. I wore a J.Crew gold sequin skirt, Mulberry doctor bag, and white silk Equipment blouse buttoned up all the way to the top with a Robert Rodriguez blazer over it. My black heels must have been Zara or Dolce Vita because, like I said, no money. I quickly realized I would never wear anything like that again at Vogue, once I saw everyone was actually wearing clothes off the runway.

I think I spent about three hours doing my hair. I ended up sleeking it back with a high pony at the crown of my head so I couldn’t fidget with it. I couldn’t twirl my hair in front of Anna.

Got the job.

11. The Woman Who Asked Anna to Wait During my final weeks before graduating from college, I got a phone call from a Vogue editor offering an opportunity to interview for a position. In my thesis-writing delirium, I thought it was some kind of dream or hoax. I asked if they could wait till after graduation, and they said they would. Right after my graduation ceremony, I took a red-eye flight to begin preliminary interviews. After meeting with four different people, I met AW wearing a black crepe wool Balenciaga dress from the latest collection (all of my graduation money combined put a slight dent in its purchase, but I don’t regret it as it’s a favorite in my closet), a white dress shirt underneath with a crisp collar and cuffs, a simple-but-interesting pave pendulum necklace, and black Prada banana heels that were all the rage at the time.

Got the job.

12. The Woman Who Went Vintage So I was maybe 21, at my first job out of college, when I interviewed with her. At that time, I had no money and figured if I wasn’t wearing high-end designer, I would do vintage. So I wore a very classic outfit with a vintage winter white pencil skirt, and a blouse that I don’t remember. I had new accessories, like designer boots and a bag by Marc Jacobs. Vintage coat. I didn’t end up getting the job, but it was last minute anyway and they had someone in mind already.

No dice.

13. The Woman Who Wore the Vogue Uniform I was a rover at Condé Nast at the time — it was early days at Vogue when black leggings, a Brooks Brothers boys department button-down, and a sweater wrapped around your waist was an adopted uniform on the editorial side. I wore a black pleated Agnes B. skirt, a black V-neck sweater from Charivari, black tights, and black pointy but squared-off Barneys loafers. Because I was already at 350 Madison that day, I left my black, pleather Ann Taylor tote bag under my desk.

Got the job.

- Fashion Confessions (The Cut)

#'more'

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valentinexdupont · 5 years ago

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Hello!!! I’m Eli, and I’m so excited to be here! I’ve brought in my disaster boy Val! Short for Valentine- he’s a blind author originally from Ireland. He’s a sarcastic piece of shit who’s outgoing and tries to be the life of the party. He’s lived in London for 4 years! Please hit me up for any connections or plots! His info is below!

CHARACTER INFORMATION

First Name: Val (full name, Valentine)

Last Name: Dupont

Gender/Pro-nouns: Cis male, He/Him

Date of Birth: 29 years old, March 4th.

Place of Birth: Kilkenny, Ireland.

Current Residence: Notting Hill

Length of Residence: 5 years

Occupation: Author

Faceclaim: Robert Sheehan

Trigger Warnings: None

Are you applying for a wanted connection: No

BIOGRAPHY

Val was born in Kilkenny, Ireland and lived there for most of his adolescent life. He grew up with 2 sisters he loved very much, and his mum and dad. The five of them were a tightknit family- his father did a lot of traveling for work but he was around often enough, and his mom was a journalist, doing remote work so she could take care of the three kids. His family was never very affluent- they had just enough to get by, with three kids attending school with various hobbies. Benna grew up to be a lawyer in the States, while Ruth created her own art gallery in Ireland. Val always loved his mother’s job and her freedom with words. From a young age, he wanted to write, though he wasn’t sure in what context. But he had a very active imagination, sometimes to a fault- he would play all sorts of silly games with his sisters, and often wore their hand-me-downs to school. Even if he was made fun of, he never really cared. People joked and snarked, but Val was always too witty for his own good. He’d be one step ahead with a snappy comeback before anyone could really ever touch him.

He grew up to be a very fun and spontaneous individual. Val was the life of the party in high school, dating women and men with little care to what was thought of him. He moved for college to the States, studying at BU in Boston for journalism. Val made a lot of friends, and easily- many of them stayed in touch through email or letters from Ireland, and new ones came from unexpected places- assorted clubs in college, LGBT events, even penpals. Val did exceptionally well there, participating in a lot of events from karaoke nights,drag nights, and poetry slams, but also doing surprisingly well in school. However, he noticed that he was having trouble seeing from a distance, including looking at the whiteboard or projector screens at school, and his eyes were blurring seemingly randomly. He tried not to make it a big deal- Val had always been incredibly independent and hated relying on others, to the point where any sign of weakness was pushed down so he didn’t have to think too much about it. But this issue kept arising, and it seemed like his eyesight was getting worse and worse.

After seeing a doctor, he found out that his vision was impaired- and that it would only decline from there. Val was devastated. For a while he didn’t tell anybody. He was ready to keep it a secret, but soon found there was no way he could do that. His grades were failing and he was on a slow decline in his own emotional wellbeing. He finally divulged the truth to his English professor- and after that, a few close friends, all of which rallied around him. His teacher was the first to introduce Braille to him, even recommend accessibility options on his phone and computer. His professor had always been blunt and honest, which Val respected. And she told him that his eyes weren’t going to suddenly improve. And that he could sit and feel sorry for himself and watch as all these things he did so easily suddenly disappeared. Or, he could learn now, while he had time. More audiobooks, more speech-to-text. Typing on a keyboard more and more, getting used to where each key is. She helped him work on a project he’d kept quiet for a long, long time- a fantasy novel he’d been afraid to release out into the world, afraid it’d come back littered in rejections. With her help, he finished a manuscript for his riveting fantasy novel entitled ‘Margot Sees Magic’, and by his graduation, he had a published novel on the shelves of book stores. He couldn’t believe it- he was an author. And not only that, but it had soon reached the YA audiences he’d hoped for. The book hit as a number 1 Bestselling novel on the New York Times list and Val was gobsmacked.

It’s been a while since his last year of college. Val has been legally blind for 5 years. He still works independently, writes on his own, and is fiercely against those who coddle him. He is currently on his fourth book and working closely with an assistant. He has been on multiple book tours across the US and UK to not only support his new book, but to talk about his experience as a blind LGBT author. Val is outspoken on issues of gender, being rather genderfluid himself. Val moved back to the UK in the past few years based on his books, moving up slowly as more money came to him. He moved from Boston back to Kilkenny for a bit before heading to London. The blind author moved to Notting Hill and has loved living there the past 4 years.

#valintro #valbio #londoncity:intro #:)#I hope this is ok!!!

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shell-senji · 7 years ago

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KazaChi Week 2017: The First Time

For @hakuoukishippingweek’s KazaChi week: A modern-day AU one shot. Apologies in advance. I have no idea where this plot bunny sprang from. [Read HERE on fanfiction.net.]

Day 4 Prompt: First Time

“No.”

“Chizuru,” Sen whined across the phone line, drawing out the last syllable of her name. “He’s only going to be here for dinner… There’s no reason for you to not come home after class!”

“I’ll come back to the apartment when he leaves. I’m sorry, Sen, but your cousin is…” Chizuru paused, seemingly trying to find the right word.

“An ass?” Sen supplied helpfully.

Chizuru exhaled loudly. “Yes. Yes, he is. A condescending one who has been rude to both me and the guys on multiple occasions.”

The aforementioned guys were Chizuru’s long-time friends from Mibu High School and Shinsengumi University. She’d even lived with them when her father had opted to go gallivanting around the world for his “research”—research he still had yet to finish or return from. She and the guys had all been one big, dysfunctional yet happy family.

After college, though, they’d found themselves heading in different directions. Saito had gone to the University of Aizu for graduate school, while Hijikata had gone to Hakodate School of Fine Arts for an MFA. Souji and Kondo had gone with Yamazaki, much to Souji’s dismay, to pursue alternative treatments for their ongoing health problems. Heisuke, Sanosuke, and Shinpachi had moved to another city for work, and last she heard they’d opened a gym. She wasn’t entirely sure where Sannan had gone.

“Chizuru? Did you hear me?”

“Oh! Sen, I’m so sorry. What did you say?” Despite the fact that Sen couldn’t see her, Chizuru felt her face flush. She hadn’t meant to let her thoughts wander.

“I said, what if Chikage apologizes?” Sen said.

A laugh bubbled up out of Chizuru. “Kazama? Apologize? Sen, nothing short of witchcraft or divine intervention is going to get that to happen.”

“Hmm… You may be right, but I am the family princess,” Sen replied primly, referring to a childhood nickname that had lingered well into adulthood. “Come home after class, and I guarantee you he’ll apologize.”

Chizuru sighed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope!”

“Fine. But I’m not hanging out with you guys—I’ll say hello and that’s it. Oh, lunch is over. I’ve gotta run.”

Facing re-energized elementary school students was a far more pleasant prospect than what Sen was subjecting her to.

* * * *

After her student teaching and evening classes were done for the day, Chizuru reluctantly made her way back to the apartment she shared with Sen and Kimigiku. The latter wouldn’t be home until the following morning, since she worked full time as a bartender.

As she unlocked the door, she could hear voices, and she took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

From the small dining room, four pairs of eyes stared at her.

“Uh, hi, Amagiri. Shiranui. Sen…” She made eye contact and smiled at each as she said their names. Then she slanted her gaze toward the remaining person and barely lifted the corners of her lips. “Hey, Kazama.”

Sen leapt up from the table. “Chizuru! There’s leftovers in the fridge for you. Don’t worry—I didn’t cook, Amagiri did.”

Chizuru grinned. “Thank goodness. I don’t want another round of food poisoning, thanks.”

Her roommate mock glared at her. “It was one time!”

Behind her, Shiranui held up his hands and proceeded to count out all ten fingers, mouthing “at least” to Chizuru. She giggled.

Sen whirled around, hands on her hips. “Shiranui, don’t even start. You’re hardly better.”

As they sniped back and forth over who was the worse cook, Kazama shoved back from the table and slowly approached Chizuru.

She crossed her arms over her chest defensively, saying nothing but noticing the room had gone very quiet.

As Kazama opened his mouth to speak, Sen suddenly interrupted, “Wine! Oh, we’re completely out of wine already.”

Chizuru stared at her, confused, and Kazama merely lifted an eyebrow in question.

Sen looped an arm through Shiranui’s and the other through Amagiri’s, as though trying to pull them out of their seats.

“Amagiri, Shiranui, and I are going to go get some wine.” The two men exchanged glances and shrugged. “Don’t kill each other, okay?” Sen added sweetly.

Then, the princess in residence proceeded to push them out the door, winking at Chizuru as she left.

Chizuru sighed and shook her head.

Kazama cleared his throat, and Chizuru met his scarlet gaze head on. “Yes?”

“Before I was rudely interrupted, I was going to say that Sen informed me that I am to apologize to you for—and I quote—‘being an ass,’” he said, rolling his eyes.

Chizuru resisted the urge to repeat the gesture. “Yes, I can tell you’re truly, genuinely repentant. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go relax.”

Before she could leave the kitchen, he grabbed her arm. “Tell me just what it is you think I’ve done to warrant remorse? As I recall, I’ve done nothing to you.”

Anger washed over Chizuru, and she jerked her arm away, glaring at him. Then she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, before responding.

“Well, let’s see, Kazama. In high school, you told me I was shaming my family by ‘shacking up with’ my guy friends, even though my father had approved it.” Chizuru held up a finger.

“Then there was the time you told me I was not living up to the Yukimura family name and, again, shaming my family by attending Shinsengumi University.” She raised another finger.

“Oh, and how about when you said that a Yukimura should aspire to more than being a teacher? Not to mention the time you said that girls who go into education are doing nothing more than looking for a husband.” She held up two fingers. “What was it you called it?”

“An MRS degree,” he said quietly, his tone oddly devoid of the derision it had held the first time he’d said it to her.

She might have noticed the change had she not been so worked up. Instead, she continued. “Ah, yes, that’s it. Let’s not forget you referring to me as ‘your woman’ when we’ve never even been on a single date, and even if we had, I certainly don’t belong to you. And that doesn’t even count the numerous times you insulted my friends!” Chizuru finished, flinging her hands up in exasperation.

Kazama said nothing, but his lips twitched as though he were trying not to laugh. Seeing it only fanned the flames of Chizuru’s annoyance, and she stomped off to her bedroom, slamming the door.

Not five minutes later, she flung the door open, her clothes now more casual than the work appropriate attire she’d worn during the day. Kazama openly smirked at her, and she ignored him, walking over to the TV and turning it on.

Then, she pressed the power button to her GameCube and grabbed a controller.

“What are you doing?”

Feeling uncharacteristically snarky, Chizuru replied flippantly, “Making a cake. What does it look like?”

He sat down next to her on the sofa, close enough that she caught a hint of his faintly citrusy cologne.

He smells nice.

She shook herself mentally. Smelling nice and being a condescending jerk were not mutually exclusive.

Chizuru glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her, omnipresent smirk firmly in place.

“What?” she asked, wishing he’d leave her to play her games and relax in peace.

He gave a low chuckle. “Your anger—while not unfounded, I will admit—is amusing. That’s all.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “Okay…” Then, “You know, that sounded suspiciously close to an apology.”

Kazama shrugged. “If that’s how you choose to interpret it.” When she didn’t rise to the bait, he added, “Since presumably you’re not playing a cake-baking game, what are you playing?”

When the title screen loaded, Chizuru gestured to the TV.

“Super Smash Bros. Melee?” he asked.

A demonic little impulse coursed through Chizuru, and she turned toward him, giving a deceptively sweet smile as she handed him a controller. “Want to play?”

He took the proffered controller and grinned widely. “Suit yourself. But don’t go whining to Sen again about me being mean to you when I beat you.”

Chizuru nodded. “Then the same applies to you,” she said cheekily. His crimson eyes widened fractionally.

When they chose their characters, Kazama laughed. “Seriously? Jigglypuff?” he asked, scorn dripping from his voice.

“Oh, Marth? That’s Hijikata’s favorite too,” she said casually. Kazama frowned.

“Tch. I’m surprised he even plays the game,” he muttered.

“Kondo always managed to convince him. Even when Souji took particular pleasure in killing him every time he respawned,” Chizuru said, giggling at the memories.

Chizuru set the match for stock mode, each of them with ten lives. Once the level loaded, it took less than thirty seconds for Chizuru to send Kazama’s Marth rocketing off the screen.

Next to her, Kazama jolted and twisted his body to stare at her.

“What the hell was that?”

“Hmmm? What was what?” she asked innocently.

Mumbling something about a fluke, he refocused on the game.

Marth hit the screen shortly thereafter.

“Damnit!” Kazama snapped, sitting up straighter and leaning forward. Chizuru knew that posture. She’d seen her guys do it many a time, and she’d done it herself. Game on.

Despite Kazama’s best efforts, Jigglypuff wiped the floor with Marth, and victory was Chizuru’s.

“Hey, Kazama, I thought you said you were going to beat me?” Chizuru asked, watching the muscle in his jaw twitch as he clenched his teeth.

“Again,” was all he said.

Five rounds and forty-two deaths on Marth’s part later, Kazama had lost all his cool collectedness, and Chizuru was feeling giddy.

“Remind me again who is superior to whom? Who is shaming whose family?” she couldn’t resist asking.

“You cheat. I don’t know how, but you cheat,” he said, lip lifting in a sneer. “I bet without your precious Jigglypuff, you’ll be a pathetic insect compared to me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh, okay. I’ll use Samus then.”

Four rounds and twenty-seven deaths from Marth later—Samus was her second-string character—Kazama threw his controller across the room.

“If you break it, you have to replace it,” Chizuru said dryly.

He retrieved the controller and examined it. “It’s fine.” Not that a measly controller would have set him back or anything.

“So about that pathetic insect comment…” she began. He glared at her.

Spreading her hands wide in a placating gesture, she tilted her head toward the GameCube. “Would you like to try something different? To regain your family honor?” she offered, grinning.

Kazama’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Such as?”

Holding back giggles that threatened to escape—who knew Kazama would be so competitive over video games of all things?—Chizuru said, “Mario Party? It’s basically luck, so you wouldn’t have to worry about me ‘cheating,’” she said, using air quotes.

“Fine.”

She was unsurprised by him choosing the title character, and she went for her usual Peach. Unlike with Smash Bros, however, Kazama made no comment about her choice of character.

As they played through the map, Kazama cursing and Chizuru giggling nearly incessantly at his continued bad luck, neither noticed how much time had gone by, nor that their friends had yet to return.

And when he came in dead last and she won, the controller flew across the room again.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Chizuru put a hand over her mouth, trying—and failing—to contain her laughter. There, sitting on her apartment sofa, was the high and mighty Kazama Chikage, heir to the multinational Kazama Corporation, pouting.

Over losing a video game.

Chizuru doubled over onto the floor, holding her sides. Gasping for air, she choked out, “If it makes you feel any better, Heisuke is terrible at both games. He loses every time.”

“It doesn’t.” Kazama’s tone resembled that of a petulant schoolboy, and Chizuru had to wipe away the tears with the back of her hand.

A moment or two later, she finally collected herself, looking up to find Kazama regarding her, an odd expression on his face.

Taking stock of his handsome features, blond hair tousled from the innumerable times he’d run his hands through it in frustration, bloodred eyes locked on her, Chizuru finally realized what was different.

He was smiling. A real, genuine smile.

When a tiny gasp slipped out, he arched an eyebrow at her. “What?”

She averted her gaze briefly before meeting his eyes once more. “Well…you’re smiling. I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you actually really smile.”

Kazama snorted. “The same could be said for you. This has to be the first time I’ve seen you relaxed around me.”

Chizuru’s mouth dropped open slightly. He was right. When had that happened?

She felt a flush creeping up her neck into her face. “I… Well, I… I mean, it was…” Before she could finish, her stomach growled loudly.

I must be neon red by now.

Kazama had clearly heard her stomach, giving a bark of laughter. “Hungry?”

Chizuru nodded sheepishly.

He stood and extended a hand to her. “Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.”

She accepted his help and stood as well. “Why, because you lost?”

“Perhaps.” Then he smirked, the arrogant expression she was all too familiar with. “Or, maybe I just want to take a beautiful woman out to dinner.”

Though she heaved a sigh and shook her head, Chizuru couldn’t deny the trickle of pleasure that flowed through her at his words.

Chikage might not be that bad after all…

Just before they left the apartment, a sudden thought occurred to Chizuru and she groaned out loud. “Sen…”

At his inquiring look, she explained, “She—they set us up. There’s no other explanation.”

Kazama considered her theory and nodded. “Then…” His expression grew sly. “Perhaps we should return the favor.”

She hesitated before agreeing. Though she loved her friend dearly, Sen was far too meddlesome for her own good.

Placing his hand on the small of her back, Kazama guided her out the door and toward the parking lot.

“Let’s plot our revenge, Chizuru. This is one fight I know I can win.”

Chizuru smiled. “There’s a first time for everything.”

Author's Note: It's been a while since I've written for Hakuouki, and I've never written Kazama, so apologies if things are too OOC. Chalk it up to too little sleep last night or a rushed job for KazaChi Week ;-) A side note: I have a close friend who routinely abused Jigglypuff in Smash Bros, so that comes from personal experience. That rat bastard.

#hakuouki #kazachi #kazachi week 2017 #hakuoukishippingweek #kazama chikage #yukimura chizuru #hakuouki fanfiction #what am i even doing

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teamkaiforever · 7 years ago

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ART SURPRISES

(requested by @sarcastic-vampiregirl) Kai Parker x Reader word count : 4 624 warning : smut summary : Reader is an art major ; One day Kai shows up semi naked in her class when she has to draw a still life. keep reading after the cut * not my gif _______________________

Being an art major had always been a dream of Y/N’s ever since she had been little and her parents had allowed her to use the wall in her bedroom to draw with her pastels. They’d always tear the wallpaper down at the end of the month , keeping her sketches in rolls at the attic and replace it with a new one. Later on she took extra art classes at her high school as a preparation for applying to art school. Things had turned out exactly like Y/N had imagined her life would be, well almost. Most of her friends were supernaturals and there was no way to elude the dangers that came with this … or the surprises. Specially when it came to Malachai Parker. He was Dangerous with a capital D around everyone but her. With her it was all surprises - pleasant and some times not so pleasant. He wasn’t all bad , there were sweet sides to him but mostly he drove her nuts.

WEDNESDAY NIGHT

Y/N couldn’t wait to get home and relax after the long day at her college. Art is fun but sometimes it was a bit much , specially with assignments deadlines. Her car pulled in the driveway and she quickly got out , opening the door to the back seat taking her messenger bag and the large sketchpad. Tomorrow was going to be even more exhausting and Y/N couldn’t wait to get inside , take a long hot bath and go to sleep. Only when she came inside there was a surprise waiting for her. “You are late. Got stuck in traffic ?” said Kai who had made himself comfortable on her couch , munching on a pack with pork rinds. “Don’t worry , I got your dinner covered. After all someone has to look after you and make sure you eat properly.” Kai turned towards her with an amused expression on his face. Y/N’s jeans were covered with paint on a few spots and her hands had traces of it too. Kai noticed there was some graphite on her nose and pencils in her hair. But what got to him was her shocked expression. It flashed from surprise to confusion to anger to shock to surprise in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t help but laugh. Y/N’s mouth hung open and a moment later she swung her messenger bag in the air ready to smack Kai with it , only he whooshed himself away and the bag barely grazed his shoulder. “Get out of my house !” “Owwh.. So cranky. Did someone have a bad day ?” he said mockingly , rubbing his shoulder. “Violence is never the answer Y/N.” he scolded her. Y/N let out a sigh of frustration , dropping her bag on the floor shortening the distance between her and Kai. It was always like this with him - Y/N was one of the very few people who’d tolerate his company in the first place and for some reason that got him attached to her. He popped up pretty much everywhere around her , every day. “Actually my day was perfect until I found you in my house …eating my pork rinds.” she said grabbing the pack from his hands , dipping her hand inside to get some with a grin on her face. Kai looked more upset about her stealing his pork rinds than about the fact she had tried to smack him less than 3 minutes ago. “Oh ? Did you want these ?” Kai laughed for a second then clenched his jaw , getting up to chase after her. Y/N was driving him nuts. One moment she could be smiling at him and acting as if he is her best friend , the next one she’d be getting on his nerves like no one has ever managed. In fairness , he had sneaked into her house without any kind of warning … again , but still. She should know better than try and stand between him and his pork rinds. “How did you even get in my house?” she wondered , eluding him yet again at the stairs. “If you broke a window - you are paying for the repairs.” “Ha.Ha. Funny. Your bedroom window was open … again. Why aren’t you locking it up ?!” said Kai , stopping and crossing his hands on his chest as he watched Y/N wink at him and take a turn around the couch towards the fire place. “And you invited me in , remember ? What kind of a friend would I be if I don’t come to check up on you from time to time? Now gimme back my pork rinds.” “These?” she said looking at him innocently , pointing with her other hand at the package. Kai nodded , shortening the distance between them in a few seconds. “Yes. Gimme.” he grabbed her wrist pulling her towards him as she tried to escape from him again. Their eyes met and for a moment they gazed at each other before a smile spread across Kai’s face as he finally got his pork rinds back. “Your attitude is going to get you in trouble sweetheart. How many times do I have to tell you this ?” Y/N felt a little out of breath , not because Kai had chased her around the living room the past few minutes but because of the way he looked at her a few moments ago. Something different had flashed in his eyes , something she hadn’t seen before. “Is it ? Is it really ? Cuz I seem to be the only one who can push your buttons without feeling the wrath of Malachai Parker afterwards.” said Y/N raising her hands , shaking them in the air with fear and then tapped his nose , smiling innocently at him before taking a step aside and walking towards the kitchen to see what her dinner was. Kai stared after her wondering how is it that she is the only one who gets away with calling him by his full name and getting on his nerves in every possible way. If it was someone else , they’d already be two metres under ground. Perhaps it had to do with the weird feeling he got every time he was around her. Specially the feeling he had gotten a few seconds ago. Something had sparked deep inside him. Kai left the pork rinds on the coffee table and chased after her in vampire speed catching up with her in the kitchen. Y/N had bent over to see what’s in the oven and he could hear the change in her heart beat realising it was her favourite pizza. Kai grabbed her wrist and spun her around in vamp speed until her back was pressed against the kitchen counter and his chest firmly pressed against hers. Y/N looked up into his eyes feeling butterflies flap their wings in her stomach having him this close to her. His eyes which were a little darker shade of blue in that moment , not looking away from hers. She felt her breath get stuck in her throat sensing the danger levels around him raising. Their friendship was based on pushing the boundaries of the other. Kai leaned in towards her , unsure what he wanted to do exactly. He wasn’t exactly angry at her , there was something else he just didn’t know what it was. “So … you are staying for dinner or ?” asked Y/N feeling her heart beating faster than ever. Even she could hear her own heart beat. A smile spread across Kai’s face , though Y/N could see devils dancing in his eyes. “When my girl asks me this nicely , how would I decline.” he took a step backwards from her , his eyes following her every move. Kai wasnt sure what was happening with him , why his attitude towards her was so soft. Had it been someone else , they would’ve been food a long time ago. “Not your girl.” she replied. “Stop calling me that.” “But I like calling you that.” said Kai with a smile , taking out the pizza from the oven. “It has a nice ring to it - my girl … Kai’s girl. See ?” He cut the pizza , taking out two plates from the kitchen cabinet. Y/N rolled her eyes at his comment , sitting opposite him on the table reaching for a piece of her favourite pineapple ham pizza. As annoying as Kai was , sometimes his surprises were nice. “I’m starving …” Kai slapped her hand away. “Careful sweetheart. It’s still hot. You will hurt yourself.” Y/N stared at him reaching for a slice again , his hand grabbing her wrist. They stared at each other for a few seconds and he let go allowing her to get a slice. Instead she got two and hungrily started eating them. Kai stared at her laughing. “What ? No ‘thank you’ for making sure you don’t starve to death ?” he teased reaching to grab a slice himself , only Y/N slapped his hand away. He tried again - same thing. “You think you are funny don’t you? Come on Y/N , don’t deny it. You like me more each day..” Y/N only raised her eyebrows at him roughly running her fingers through her hair. She liked and hated him at the same time. It was a weird feeling to live with and sometimes it was hard to understand , even harder to explain. “Thank you … for the pizza.” “See ? It wasn’t so hard.” he teased trying to suppress a smile , reaching for a slice. “Shut up.” ___

6.45AM two days later Y/N woke up , quickly getting a shower before getting her coffee in a to-go cup. There wasn’t much she needed for her classes that day except her big sketch book , a set of pencils and graphite , the rest of it she could get at the art supply room on campus. That day they were supposed to have someone model for the class. Drawing a still life wasn’t an easy job - she had to get most of the details right before the day was over because there wasn’t a second chance. Everything was going perfectly fine the first few hours until the moment Y/N looked up from the page and saw Kai , semi naked standing at the podium posing for her. He was standing barely a metre away from their official model for the day - a young girl from one of her other classes. Y/N blinked a few times thinking that maybe she was hallucinating. No one else seemed to notice anything but her. “Careful with the shadows.” said the teacher pointing at the model on the stage. “See how the light falls ?” Y/N nodded , taking in the teacher’s notes and nervously glanced at the podium again seeing Kai wasn’t there anymore. A deep sigh left her lips and she continued to working on her sketch. Kai had the habit of showing up almost everywhere she was but Y/N didn’t think he’d dare sneak into her art class. Her paranoia was turning into full blown hallucinations. “Incredible… so life like.” whispered someone in her ear making her jump up. Y/N turned around seeing Kai smiling widely at her. “Hi.” “What are you doing here ?!” she hissed , smiling nervously at her friend a metre and a half away from her who turned towards her with a confused expression. “I go to school here?!” replied her friend thinking Y/N was probably starting to lose her mind. Who knew , maybe she was … considering how seeing Kai semi naked made her feel all tingly on the inside. Kai suppressed a smile noticing how her heart was suddenly racing , even more so the closer to her he got. He trailed his finger around her back , shoulder to shoulder sending shivers all through her body before leaning in to whisper in her ear , his lips nearly touching her skin as he spoke. “Oh they can’t see me sweetheart. It’s just you and me. God , I love cloaking and illusion spells ! ” he said amused , bracing his hands on the back of her chair. “I am here to be your muse for the day. Don’t tell me you are disappointed to see me.” “Please leave.” “Why ? Am I distracting you ?” said Kai innocently taking a step in front of her , allowing her to take a really good look at his bare chest. Y/N almost reached her hand to touch the hair on his stomach but quickly stopped herself. "Did you really think you can keep pushing your luck without consequences ?“ he chuckled. A smug smirk showed on his face noticing how her eyes kept drifting from the canvas to his chest , down to his boxers instead of focusing on her assignment. “You are dying to put your hands on me aren’t you ? I don’t blame you sweetheart. I mean , how can you resist someone who looks like this ?” he said pointing at himself. Y/N shook her head slightly , taking a shallow breath. It was one thing when Kai stalked her at home or at any of her other favourite places but showing up at her college was new. Specially with all her classmates and teachers around. She blinked fast a couple of times , trying hard to push away the thoughts that kept swarming in her mind. Y/N was starting to get lost in a day dream about him - her hands roaming his chest , his lips on hers while Kai was holding her close to his naked body - .. Damn it Malachai. she thought. One of the most important assignments for the semester and he picks that day to show up and distract her. Y/N couldn’t be mad at him even if she tried , not when he was standing this close , walking by in front of her every few minutes striking a pose. He was messing with her head big time. Every time she was supposed to glance at the model on the podium , her eyes drifted towards him and she felt her cheeks flush more and more. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen Kai shirtless before but this time was different. He wanted to drive her crazy and worst of all - he was succeeding at it. Y/N felt herself slowly starting to get wet. Kai bit his lower lip looking at her with hooded eyes. “Having trouble concentrating ?” “You are so full of yourself Malachai.” she whispered quietly praying her heart beat would calm down. Kai grinned at her reaction. Being a vampire had its perks. “Don’t deny it. I can hear your heart beat sweetheart.” he leaned in closer to her , his crotch lightly brushing against her shoulder making her shiver a little. Her eyelids fluttered closed for a second in an attempt to steady her breathing , only things backfired. “And your breathing just now went from uneven to shallow. ” Kai moved a bit closer to her. “Oh there it is again. So close yet you can’t touch me. Must be driving you insane.” he chuckled. Y/N clenched her jaw trying to ignore the tingly feeling in her stomach spreading towards her core in crashing waves. Her fingers wrapped around the pencil tightly, working on the shadows. It was hard to keep her hand steady while thinking about how it would feel to touch him and have him fill her in… She closed her eyes shaking her head. No , snap out of it. she thought. Kai leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Imagine what it would feel like to have my hands roam every inch of your body.” he spoke every word slowly letting his hot breath tickling the skin of her neck. “Kissing your neck and nibbling on your earlobe while my fingers play with you before dipping inside you over and over again making you moan my name.” “Go. Away..” hissed Y/N , clearing her throat. She could already feel her skin on fire and she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the heat outside. Her eyes drifted to Kai noticing a slight bulge forming in his boxers and his hand casually brushing his member through the fabric as if it was the most normal thing to do in the middle of art class while a girl is starring at him. Y/N blinked fast a couple of times awkwardly looking away , not before noticing the grin on his face. He was doing it on purpose , as a payback for her pushing his buttons all the time. She didn’t plan on giving in not matter how irresistible he was and how he was making her feel in that moment. “You want me to grab you , shove you against the wall and fuck you until you don’t remember your own name.” he whispered in her ear. “Admit it.” “No , I dont.” she snapped making everyone turn around to look at her. “Sorry. Just … thinking about the .. never mind.” Kai laughed seeing her tense , pushing her thighs together moving to the edge of her seat. The longer he talked the harder it got for her to resist the urge to grab him right then and there. “You can fight it all you want but its in your eyes every time I see you, sweetheart.” he said resting his back against the window barely 2 steps away from her. “I bet you have even dreamed about me.” Silence. “I guessed it didn’t I?” said Kai amused. “Ahh I wonder what you taste like ?” he thought out loud. “What it would feel like to have you squirming before me , screaming my name as I devour you over … and over … again.” Y/N bit her lower lip slightly throwing her head back trying not to think about it which only resulted in her thinking about it. She could feel the wet spot forming in her panties , getting more wet by the second the longer her mind drifted in the daydream. Her hand held the pencil hovering over the page , not moving an inch. “You are thinking about it aren’t you ?” said Kai grinning. “Ahh I wish I could touch you right now…” he trailed off. Kai’s fingertips glazed across her skin sending electricity coursing through her body. He bit his lip seeing her reaction , how she leaned in towards him completely distracted and lost in day dreams about him. Y/N hadn’t even heard the bell ring until her teacher came over to ask her to return all the supplies her classmates had taken from the storage room back before leaving. She looked around noticing Kai was not there and the crushing disappointment of that realisation made her even more frustrated and confused. There was no one left in the classroom by the time she had gathered her things and walked into the supply room. Y/N opened the door with a sigh , leaving the paint on the shelf stopping for a moment , replaying what Kai had said and did barely a few minutes ago. Her eyes fluttered closed and the next moment she felt someone snake their hands around her waist , pressing their body firmly towards hers from behind. The sound of the door closing and locking following shortly after. Her breath got caught in her throat seeing the rings on the person’s fingers , realising it was Kai. She rested her back against his chest feeling his uneven breathing and the bulge in his boxers. “Did you have fun watching me blush the entire time?” she asked quietly not even bothering to push him away. “Question is … did you?” he whispered , his hand pushing down her short shorts directly under her panties. His fingers rubbed her clit slowly drawing soft moans from her. “Mmm it appears you did. You are so wet .. I think you might be dripping.” Kai dipped his finger inside her , her hands holding onto the shelf tightly as she closed her eyes and soft moan left her lips. At first he teased her just with his middle finger , slowly curling it around pushing and pulling at a steady rhythm before adding another finger picking up the pace. “Damn it Kai..” she whispered feeling his hand slide under her shirt , pulling her body closer to his before his hand reached her breasts. “You couldn’t help yourself could you.” “Not when it comes to you sweetheart.” whispered Kai , biting her earlobe as his fingers picked up the pace even more. Y/N pushed her hips down on them wishing for him to go deeper. “So tight. Oh it would feel so good stretching you out later.” ‘What?’ she mouthed , feeling butterflies in her stomach. Kai’s words slowly pushing their way into her mind. Y/N tried to focus with no luck , her head was spinning and all self control was draining away from her each time his fingers curled inside her. “Told you you want me.” “No , I don’t. What gave you that idea?” she whispered, resting her head against his chest , tilting it slightly feeling Kai leaving wet kisses all over her neck. Soft moans leaving her lips as her ass pushed back at his crotch making him harder by the second. “There it is again. You say 'no’ but your actions suggest otherwise.” he said quietly. “Why do you have to be so confusing?” “I am confusing ? How about you mister irresistible ?” she retorted. “Don’t get any ideas. It’s a one time thing.” “It doesn’t have to be princess.” he bit her earlobe. “I can be your dirty little secret and you can be mine..” Did Kai just said what Y/N thought he said ? “I’d rather die.” she lied. In response Kai’s fingers pushed roughly inside her making her scream out a little. Kai heard the change in her heart beat at her last words and couldn’t help but smile. “Lie all you want sweetheart… but we both know the truth.” said Kai. He held her firmly towards his body as she came moaning his name. He hadn’t realised until that moment the effect she has on him, how crazy her saying 'no’ and pushing his buttons really made him feel. He spun her around , tasting her on his fingers moaning as he did so and a smile spread across his face. “You taste even more amazing than I thought.” Y/N smashed her lips against his, nearly knocking over the shelf behind him hearing as if from a distance a few jars with paint crack on the ground. His hands wrapped around her waist , moving towards her ass pulling her towards him , both of them moaning into the kiss. Everywhere his hands touched her bare skin it felt like flames were licking up her skin. Kai’s lips moved towards her neck , making her throw her head back a bit while her fingers tangled in his hair. “I still don’t like you.” she whispered another lie , pushing her hand in his boxers wrapping his fingers around him. “I can make you like me.” whispered Kai smiling at her heartbeat change. A split second his lips crashed against hers as he smashed her body against the door. He unbuttoned her short shorts , pushing them down her legs along with her panties at the same time she pushed his boxers down , her fingers wrapped around his thick shaft pumping him slowly drawing circles on the tip gathering the pre cum from it. Kai looked at her amazed , seeing her lick her fingers tasting him on them. Y/N’s eyes never left his and he felt his length twitch at the thought of having her lips around him. He stepped towards her ready to shove her body against the door and when she took a step towards him. “Catch.” Y/N’s feet pushed off the ground , hitching around Kai’s waist. Kai pressed her back against the door as his hips pushed up at her , burying himself into her with a hard thrust making her scream out. “Fuck Ka-” “Sshhh sweetheart. Or do you want us to get caught and get you in trouble ?” he whispered placing his hand on her mouth. Kai watched her eyes roll in her sockets a little every time his thick shaft went inside her. Y/N held onto his back digging her nails into his flesh a little bit deeper each time. Even with his hand muffling the moans it wasn’t enough. Kai was filling her to the hilt , making her body jolt upward almost every time. Through her half-lidded eyes she could see Kai’s blue eyes fixed on her the entire time. He was driving her nuts , setting her on fire without even pausing to let her take a breath. “Ah Y/N , I could get used to this.” he grunted. Y/N gripped on his hair , feeling her walls clench around him the faster he pumped in and out of her. Kai removed his hand from her mouth , smashing his lips against hers ,drowning out her moans. “At first I thought I’d just get back at you , get you flustered and leave you … but how can I leave my girl like that?” he chuckled. Y/N was out of breath , barely able to keep her eyes open let alone think. Kai had picked up the pace so much , her moans were starting to turn into screams. His lips barely left hers trying to muffle them. She felt his length twitch inside her , purple / black veins showing under his eyes. “Kai I swear if you .. FUck” Next moment she came around him , her hands reaching for something to hold on to grabbing on the shelf. Y/N’s orgasm triggered his , his body pressing against hers harder. Kai realised she hadn’t been using his full name since he had wrapped his hands around her half an hour ago. A smug smirk showed on his face at this realisation and seeing her squirm and struggle to hold onto him. Kai’s lips pressed against hers, their lips moving in sync and then he felt something cold trickle down his back , followed by the sound of glass breaking on the ground. “What the …” Y/N burst into laughter seeing Kai’s expression. “Sorry.. my bad.” Kai let her feet down on the ground so suddenly , not realising she was still holding onto the shelf. A large pack with blue paint covered her from head to toe and she froze on the spot. Kai grinned taking a step back to avoid the paint. “You look great in blue. Kind of like those Avatar creatures…. or a Smurf.” laughed Kai pointing at her. Y/N wiped away paint from her eyes and looked down at herself pressing her lips in a thin line. “Ha.Ha.Ha. Hilarious.” she tried hard not to laugh. He was laughing so hard , his back hit the shelf behind him causing another accident getting himself covered with paint head to toe. His hands wiped some of it from his face looking at her. “Awwhhh…” she said mockingly , bursting into laughter a moment later. “Do you want to make purple , red boy? Come here … come on.” Y/N took a step towards him , her hands outstretched. Kai backed towards the shelf so fast he knocked over another jar staining himself with yellow too. She burst into laughter watching Kai jump up , wiping paint away from his face. “OH you are so going to get it.” he threatened. “Is that a yes?” The sounds of someone trying to unlock the door snapped both of them back to reality. Her eyes pleaded with him but he only shook his head , his smile never leaving his face. “Damn you Ma-” In vampire speed he grabbed their things , putting his hand over her mouth muttering Invisique. Kai held onto her tightly at the exact moment the door opened and he quickly ran past her teacher in vampire speed whooshing them away. _______________________ MASTERLIST March / April 2017 MASTERLIST MAY 2017 MASTERLIST JUNE 2017

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caveartfair · 5 years ago

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How Jonas Wood Got His Start as an Artist

Artist Jonas Wood possesses one of contemporary painting’s most instantly recognizable aesthetics. His canvases depict plants and ceramics, often on shelves or in lush domestic interiors, rendered with a flattened perspective in vibrant hues. Yet Wood’s work is hardly formulaic. His subjects are merely vehicles for skillful, textured mark-making, which evolves year by year.

Success caught Wood (b. 1977) early. In 2006, four years after he graduated from the MFA program at the University of Washington, the Los Angeles art space Black Dragon Society gave him a solo show that launched his career. In the years since, he has participated in exhibitions from Tokyo to Dusseldorf, Los Angeles to Beirut. Through July 14th, the Dallas Museum of Art is mounting Wood’s first major solo museum presentation.

Wood now lives in Los Angeles with his wife, fellow artist Shio Kusaka, and their two children. Before he was settled and successful, though, Wood was floundering and alone, struggling to develop the discipline and practice that have led to over a decade of fruitful making.

How did you become interested in art?

My parents were into art. My dad was an architect. My mom was a drama teacher. They took me and my sisters to museums. I remember visiting the MFA Boston, where I grew up. Once, I saw a Lichtenstein landscape show there. We went to New York City and I saw MoMA and the Met.

A woman named Kimmy came to our house once a week to teach art to my sister and me. My sister, Augusta Wood, who’s now a photographer, was already an amazing artist at around 12.

Jonas at his parents house, Weston, MA, circa 1997. Courtesy of Wood Kusaka Studios.

My grandfather collected art. He had this giant Francis Bacon painting that he’d bought in the ’60s, hanging above the living room piano. It didn’t mean that much to me at the time, but when I got to grad school I was like—holy shit, I grew up with a Bacon painting. My grandfather also had a blue Jackie O Warhol in his study.

I had learning disabilities and dyslexia—I got kicked out of public school in third grade because I was disruptive—but was good at puzzles and drawings. I was a maker. I think my parents pushed me to do that stuff as much as possible because it was rewarding for me. They weren’t saying, “You should be an artist,” but they thought it was good that I was making stuff.

I was in an environment where there was a lot of interesting art, but I don’t know if I was really conscious of it until later.

You got your bachelor’s degree in psychology at Hobart and William Smith Colleges in New York, then decided to get your MFA. What made you decide to pursue art?

I was just somebody who made stuff. Maybe other people’s perceptions were like, “This guy’s an artist.” But early on, it was just my hobby. I doodled, made colored pencil drawings, took undergraduate art courses. After my junior year of college, I finished my major in psychology and then reconsidered my plan: I always thought I wanted to be a doctor. Instead, I started learning to paint and get better at art. This was around 1999.

Out of college, I started working in a psychology lab—an fMRI lab with neuroscientist Deborah Yurgelun-Todd. I administered IQ tests to study participants. At the same time, a friend let me paint out of his barn. I painted all of my family members—already, I was just mining the stuff around me for material. I made enough work that I could try to get into painting school. Still, I didn’t really see myself as an artist. It was when I got to grad school that I realized I had all this time to just do this one thing I’d been dabbling in my whole life.

Now, art is my life and my therapy, and if I don’t do it, I’m not going to feel great. It definitely has saved me in some ways.

Were any instructors particularly helpful?

This college professor, Nick Ruth, told me I needed to learn how to draw and spend more time working. That was really good advice. He also suggested I go to the University of Washington for my MFA and study with the person who’d taught him, Denzil Hurley, who shows at Canada Gallery. I applied to seven or eight schools and only got in there—which makes me think it was definitely nepotism. One person was vouching for me. If you look at my work from that time, it was so pedestrian; unrefined and underdeveloped, but I was ready to work.

Jonas Wood’s graduate school studio, 2001. University of Washington, Seattle, WA. Courtesy of Wood Kusaka Studios.

I instantly connected with Denzil’s approach. He had this idea that you should be able to make the work even if you live in the woods by yourself in a cabin, without anyone coming over to tell you what’s good. You should be able to be critical of your work and push yourself to have a painting practice. I needed to learn that because I just had raw ambition and potent surroundings. Denzil was like the painting Yoda.

I knew I was a figurative artist. Denzil told me I shouldn’t paint from life, though. So I removed this mirror (which I was using so I could paint from life) from my studio and ended up having this horrible accident. The mirror shattered and a shard of glass cut my right hand really badly. I cut a tendon and nicked this nerve bundle. It was like this weird metaphor.

This surgeon—who worked with dock workers who had accidentally cut their fingers off—had to sew my hand back together. I couldn’t use my right hand for four months. I finished the work for my thesis show with my left hand. They were these crazy paintings with cartoonish shapes; angry paintings that wouldn’t make any sense if you saw them.

Since that time, I haven’t painted from life.

How did you land on your signature style?

When I was in grad school, I made images with letters and numbers and tried different ways to mark-make and make a line—it was all over the place. I didn’t have anything to hold onto. Then I started to develop these big, flat shapes and colors that pushed up against each other with different colors. The flatness comes from this idea that painting isn’t real; it can be whatever you want it to be.

Red Rug Still Life, 2015. Jonas Wood David Kordansky Gallery

I wasn’t giving myself enough time to mix paints before I tried to make an oil painting and move everything around and change all the colors. Everything would get muddy. It was like my brain was moving faster than my body. I couldn’t even access my ideas. Finding myself as a painter was figuring out how to change things, so that I could get a result that matched what I was thinking of in the first place.

I started sourcing images, compiling pictures that I took (of plants, for example) or cut out of magazines, or that people gave me. I’ve always been super into color. I started picking out the most potent stuff, [combining] a bunch of found images to make a hybrid space. It just kept evolving.

Red Pot with Lute Player #2, 2018. Jonas Wood Gagosian

Landscape Pot with Plant, 2017. Jonas Wood Gagosian

“How I found my style” is hard to answer. I don’t feel like I’m there yet. Even when I’m in a moment of making a lot of things, there’s still this daily practice of putting colors and shapes together and figuring out the balance, adding details, and deciding whether it’s interesting. I’ve had this strategy the whole time that I need to get better—as opposed to thinking that I’m the best. Painting practices are ever-evolving and cumulative. I’m just starting.

Did you have any mentors after graduate school?

When I first moved to Los Angeles in 2003, Matt Johnson, who shows at Blum & Poe and 303 Gallery, was like a mentor. He was the only person in the city that I knew. We went to high school together. He’s really rad. When me and my wife moved to Los Angeles, he got us jobs. I worked for Laura Owens and Shio worked for Charlie Ray.

Image of Jonas Wood’s notes. Courtesy of Wood Kusaka Studios.

Working for Laura Owens was a big part of my development. I got to see how she made her art and applied some of those things to my own work. I’d never used an overhead projector before. What’s fascinating about Laura is she made these smaller works on paper and then either projected them or used these huge pieces of paper where she would draw the shape of the painting. Her drawings were pretty automatic, but the paintings were all slowed down: She’d dissect these smaller drawings and studies, then rebuild them as paintings. That really clicked with me because I was more of an automatic drawer who needed to slow things down when I painted.

I’ve had this strategy the whole time that I need to get better—as opposed to thinking that I’m the best.

That strategy really unlocked my work and brought back some of my psychology experience, too. Not insight into a brain, but what happens in a lab. Like cooking. How do you formulate ideas and test them? It’s like a puzzle.

Laura also underpainted with a certain type of paint, and she overpainted with a different kind of paint. I ended up doing something similar—underpainting with acrylic and overpainting with oil. I saw how she organized her studio and got ready for shows and used materials. I feel very lucky that I had that job for a couple years.

Jonas Wood, Scholl Canyon, 2007. © Jonas Wood. Photo by Joshua White. Courtesy of the artist and Anton Kern Gallery, New York.

Jonas Wood, Daisuke Matsuzaka, 2007. © Jonas Wood. Photo by Joshua White. Courtesy of the artist and Anton Kern Gallery, New York.

We had a nice community in Los Angeles. Matt was just graduating from UCLA. My sister, Augusta, went to grad school out here for photography. I came to a community. Then in 2006, I had my first show, at Black Dragon Society. I met Mark Grotjahn, who bought some of the work and became a mentor and a really good friend.

I read that you met Mark Grotjahn through playing poker?

I’ve been playing poker with Matt Johnson, Jeff Poe, and Mark Grotjahn for 13 years. After I worked for Laura Owens, I worked for Matt. He was getting ready to do a show at Blum & Poe. Mark Grotjahn, Mark Richards, Bob White, Matt Johnson, and I got invited to play poker at Blum & Poe.

Jonas and Mark Grotjahn during install of their collaborative show at T&SnKreps, New York, 2009. Courtesy of Wood Kusaka Studios.

I knew who Mark Grotjahn was just from being in L.A. for three years. I had a big painting crush on him. Mark didn’t know that I was an artist. I definitely brought posters to Blum & Poe and said make sure Grotjahn gets one. He introduced me to Anton Kern and Shane Campbell, who both started showing me in 2007. Jeff Poe and Tim Blum got work from the Black Dragon show, too. It was like I instantly had an advocate.

What were the biggest obstacles when you got to L.A.?

The biggest obstacle early on was just not understanding how to put myself back together after grad school and access my power. My grad-school friend said I had a wild horse inside of me, and I needed to learn how to ride it.

In progress works in Jonas Wood’s studio. Compton, Los Angeles, 2007. Courtesy of Wood Kusaka Studios.

I was around a lot of young artists in L.A. We were just trying to be artists. Me and my wife Shio, too. We got married right after grad school in 2002, and then broke up for a year and a half, mostly just because we just hadn’t figured out how to make work. I was obsessed with that part of the struggle, trying to get traction and get people to pay attention. I remember feeling a lot of anguish. I just needed to get to that point where things started to click and it became more fun. Now I’m challenging myself, but it’s super fun. I have access to this amazing thing. This line that can describe something that you can identify as me.

How did you meet Shio? How did you end up getting back together?

Shio worked at the art library at the University of Washington, which was in the same building as the grad studios. She was an undergraduate ceramicist senior, and I was a first-year painting grad student. She’s five years older, but this was her third sort of undergraduate experience. She studied English, then accounting, and then tried out pottery when she was in Colorado, and a professor told her she should study in Seattle with Akio Takamori.

Jonas and Shio Kusaka at University of Washington, Seattle, WA, 2001. Courtesy of Wood Kusaka Studios.

I was checking out an exorbitant amount of books because I was trying to learn about art. I’d thumb through the pages and paint at the same time, trying to study and see what I liked. When I saw her at the desk, I kind of hit on her. Then we saw each other at a bar and she introduced herself. We’ve been together ever since, except for when we broke up for a year and a half.

Frimkess Chilean Landscape Pot, 2015. Jonas Wood Gagosian

We never got a divorce. We got back together right before my show in 2006. We’d been seeing each other 8 months or 10 months after we broke up; being together, but not really being together. Then we moved into a house together. I guess it was mostly about getting to a place where I could handle somebody else. Selfishly, I guess we both needed our own time to get there.

If we hadn’t broken up early on, we never would have made it. Obviously, it worked out because we have two kids. Since we got back together in 2006, we’ve shared studio space. We figured it out.

Did you ever feel any sense of rejection early on?

Oh, yeah. When I first moved to L.A., I set up a studio visit with some gallery and they never showed up. I felt like I was ready to show right when I got to L.A., and it wasn’t happening. It was for the best—it would have been a fucking disaster if I showed right off the bat.

What would you consider your breakthrough moment?

There were a few paintings right after grad school where I started to put it together. But I think I really started to feel secure after my 2006 Black Dragon show. I had my first real stage, and people were paying attention. I didn’t need a job after that. It’s like if you’re in a band and you can go on tour instead of working at the bar.

I was just so happy to have a show in the town where I was living. People were going to see it. It’s every young artist’s dream, right?

from Artsy News

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