#and now I’m pursuing a museum career

[pineapple-coffee]

Sappy as it may sound, NATM’s message of “an interest in history makes it come alive” is brilliant.

You don’t need a magic tablet to bring museum exhibits to life. All you need to do is harbor an interest in the subject! Go visit your local museum, get books from your library, read about historical figures, and get involved in learning about different people and cultures.

The real magic is learning because that is what keeps history alive. And that’s the entire message of the NATM trilogy, which is something I find truly beautiful.

[starkwlkr]

Hiii! okay maybe teen mathéo likes a girl so he could talk to charles about it and ask for advice a little father son moment would be cool.

numbers | charles leclerc

hello lovely anon! thanks for the request! for this imagine, I’m going to include mikey and demri schumacher. they are characters that belong to @cs55version from their mick series that i am absolutely in love with!!

I JUST STAY IN MY ROOM TOO LONG BUT I FINALLY HAVE A GIRLFRIEND AND SHE’S THE BOMB — numbers by tempered

While the media saw Ruby Leclerc as the loud, but funny child of Ferrari driver, Charles Leclerc, they sometimes forgot about Mathéo Leclerc, the shy and quiet boy. It wasn’t a bad thing (Mathéo’s exact words). The boy liked not being in the spotlight.

He enjoyed art museums and going to see musicals with his mother and grand-mère. But there were sometimes when the media did question whether or not he would follow in the footsteps of his father. From a young age, Mathéo decided not to pursue a career in formula 1 and his family respected that.

Even the kids at school would ask him when he would start karting. He would always answer with “I’m not going to be a driver. Ask my older sister.”

He grew tired of people at school always asking him about Ferrari, his father and uncle, asking for paddock passes. It was always the same people, people he never even talked to. But there was one day when a girl who had just moved to Monaco came up to him during lunch.

Mathéo’s usual friend, Robin, was sick so he remained home. Now it looked like Mathéo didn’t have any friends and sat alone during lunch.

“Hi. Is it okay if I sit here?” The girl asked, pointing to the chair across Mathéo.

“Yeah, it’s okay.” He replied then went back to eating his sandwich that his mother had made him.

“I’m Giselle.” The girl introduced herself.

“My name is Mathéo, but with an h in between the t and e. A lot of people forget about the h.” He explained.

“Oh, okay. Mine is with two l’s so it’s not like the supermodel’s name, you know the one that was married to Tom Brady?” She asked.

“I don’t know who Tom Brady is, but I know who Gisele Bündchen is. My maman had dinner with her last week.” He said casually. “Wait, you don’t have an accent.” He quickly noticed.

“I’m from America, but my mother’s side of the family is from here. My mom got a really good job offer so here we are,” Giselle explained. “My mom has about of an accent though. She was born here but left when she was ten I think.”

Mathéo had a crush on a girl before. Her name was Eloise. She was the sister of the most popular girl in school so when Eloise asked Mathéo out to the movies, the boy thought it was just some kind of prank.

Giselle seemed nice, she listened when Mathéo had something to say, laughed at his jokes when he made one and she didn’t know of Mathéo’s last name so at least he didn’t have to worry about that yet.

As the school day came to an end, he walked back home only to find Mikey and Demri Schumacher and his sister eating in the kitchen while his mother was on the phone talking.

“Hey, Théo! Missed you.” Demri ruffled his hair as he passed by her to get to the refrigerator.

“You can keep him if you want. I see him all the time.” Ruby teased.

“Maman! Ruby wants to give me away to the Schumacher’s!” Mathéo yelled. He ignored the laughs coming from then teenagers and grabbed a juice then walked out the kitchen.

“Ruby, what did I say about trying to sell your brother?” Y/n groaned from her spot in the sofa.

“Uncle Mick won’t mind having him around!”

“Hi, maman. Is papa around?” The fourteen year old boy asked shyly. He needed his father’s opinion on Giselle.

“He’s in our room, baby. He might be asleep, but you can go check.”

“Oh. I’ll let him sleep then. I’m going to my room.” Mathéo said. He knew how hard his father worked so he rather wait to have a conversation with him. He walked up the stairs to his room and closed the door behind him.

Y/n could see the defeated face on her boy. “Mom, I’m going to call you back. Bye.” She hung up the phone. She got up and walked to her and Charles’ room where he was sleeping peacefully on their bed. He had just gotten back from Belgium and he decided he wanted to have a nap before dinner.

“Charles, sweetheart,” Y/n gently shook his body to wake him up. Charles groaned as a response. “Mathéo wants to talk to you. I have a feeling it might be important.”

“What time is it?” He asked, still not opening his eyes.

“Almost dinner time so you have to get up.”

Charles sighed and sat up in his spot. “Where’s my boy?”

Mathéo was in his room working on his art project. It was a show box diorama of his favorite memory, which was the day of his birthday when all of his family from both sides made it to his party. As he was putting a toy birthday cake in his box, he heard a knock on his door.

“It’s open!” He said, still concentrated on his project. In came Charles with a tired face, but he didn’t care. His son needed him and he was here to listen.

“It looks very nice. Is that Uncle Arthur with frosting on his face?” Charles pointed at a paper drawing of the whole family. Arthur had been drawn with blue marker ‘smeared’ on his face to resemble the frosting of the cake that Charles had thrown at his face the day of the party.

“Yeah, it was kind of hard to find the right shade of blue but I made it work.” Mathéo said, not looking up from his work.

Charles nodded and walked over to the boy’s bed and sat down. “Maman told me you wanted to talk.”

Mathéo finally looked up and slowly turned his chair to face Charles. “But you’re tired. We can talk later-”

“Théo, I’m not tired. I’m okay, now tell me, is someone bothering you in school? Are your grades bad? If it’s about grades then I’m not mad because my grades were not good. Arthur and I used to skip class because of karting so-”

“It’s not about grades. I’m doing well in school. Promise you won’t laugh at me.” Mathéo said quietly.

“Why would I laugh? I’m your papa.”

“Just promise me.”

Charles held out his pinky finger. “I promise I won’t laugh,” Mathéo nodded and was about to speak but Charles stopped him. “No, you have to do the pinky promise. This is serious.” Mathéo chuckled and laced his pinky finger with his father’s then let go.

“Okay, so I was sitting in my usual table during lunch and then this girl comes up and sits with me. Robin wasn’t with me because he’s sick so I thought she felt bad for me because I was sitting alone. But turns out she’s new to Monaco and to the school. We talked and I have decided that she is the coolest girl I have ever met and she doesn’t know I’m your son!” The boy explained. “And she laughed at my jokes, I think I’m in love.”

Charles’ lips turned into a smile. His son had a crush.

“Well that’s a big word for you. She seems nice. What’s her name?” Charles asked.

“Giselle but with two l’s. Even her name is pretty. But I don’t want to seem like a creep and ask her out. How did you ask maman to go on a date with you?”

“Your maman was not an easy person to ask out. The first time I asked her, she said no and I respected her decision. A month later, she was in Monaco and we got lunch with a couple of friends and I asked her again and she said yes. I wanted to take her to dinner but she said that was too boring for a first date so we signed up for a cooking class to make pasta but it was in Italy so we went to Italy.” Charles explained. He was never going to forget that day.

“Why Italy? Does Monaco not having pasta classes?”

“They do, but your mother hadn’t been to Italy so I took her. It’s became a tradition now. On our anniversary, we go to the same cooking class and make pasta. You would think my cooking skills would improve by now, but at least we have maman to help.”

“Maybe I can take Giselle to a cooking class in Italy.” Mathéo suggested.

“How about we start with watching a movie in the local theater?”

[sangyeonsmuse]

ONE OF THE GIRLS | DAY 6

PAIRING Lead Singer Hyunjae x Dj Reader

WORD COUNT | 2.7k

GENRE Smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ‼️

SUMMARY Jaehyun was used to getting his way when it came with women, but unfortunate enough for him, you were making him work for it that night.

MORE | Day six of the Groupie Love Series

Hyunjae was used to getting whatever he wanted, he was used to girls falling at his feet and praising him, begging and pleading to go back home with them even if it was for one night alone, they just wanted to be one of his girls. So when he entered the after party and his eyes landed on you at the dj booth with your perfect hair and your omweekend set that hugged your curves just right he knew he had to get you wrapped around his finger just like all the others. The only issue with that being you were the type to make a man work for it.

It was Saturday night and his best friend Kim Younghoon had been throwing an after party after having just performed at his final show of the tour season. Making his way inside his eyes scanned over the many options in the room, amidst his search his eyes landed on Eric who had been leaned over the counter laughing with some girl that he must have just met tonight, he figured since had never seen her with him before.

“Nice one Eric.’’ Slowly, but surely his gaze landed on you at the dj booth and all of the other women in the room immediately ceased to exist, tonight he’d have you.

Just like Hyunjae you had been a good friend of Younhoons, the two of you had known each other when you were younger but met one another again at a celebrity event a few years back and you both hit it off so well, so well that he had not only called upon you to dj most of his parties, but you also owned copyrights to most of his bands older songs. You had been used to this whole party scene by now and you absolutely lived for it. The flashing lights, the loud music and smell of alcohol combined with a hint of weed and cigarette smoke. It was the only life you’d ever known since the day you decided upon becoming a dj. Of course it wasn’t like you needed to do anything after all you were pretty much a nepo baby so your name and face had been amongst the bright lights long before you decided to start your career. Having been the daughter of one of the hottest music companies in the city, you could have easily decided to do nothing with your life but that life was not meant for you. Maybe the younger you wouldn’t have minded settling down somewhere letting daddy dearest pay all the bills, but as an adult you loved the feeling of making your own money with a career you loved. You were certainly a career girl, yes you loved the parties and the thrill of adventure, but one line you’d never cross was mixing business with pleasure your career always came first. To anyone that knew you were practically untouchable, everyone that knew your name was well aware. Everyone except for Lee Hyunjae, though it’s not like that would have stopped him from pursuing you anyways.

Hyunjae wasted no time pushing past the ongrowing crowd and making his way over to the dj booth where you stood seemingly looking through your setlist. He watches as you pull your headphones from your ears and slip them around your neck.

“If you’re here to request the next play I already have fifty other people asking the same thing, it’s a fixed setlist.” Hyunjaes' brows raise in pure amusement , did you really think that he was just some regular wanting to request a song?

“I’m not really interested in what gets played tonight but i’d talk about music all night if that’s what it takes for me to get your number by the end of the night.’’ at his words you simply laughed and leaned down to face him over your booth. His eyes of course not so subtly landed on your chest taking in the view as if it was some sort of art displayed at a museum.

“Do lines like those often work for you?’’

“Well no usually all it takes is a look.’’ Hyunjaes sly remark and obvious smirk makes your eyes roll back

“Well maybe you should test it out on one of the other pretty ladies here, I'm sure one of them is bound to fall for your unspoken charm, but I'm not one of them.” you respond back, sarcasm laced within your tone as you blew him off before locking your eyes back onto your computer screen.

“I don’t know, I think I'd rather stay and keep you company,no one here seems to pique my interest the way you do right now.”

“Fascinating , another line i’m sure you used time and time again.” Hyunjae simply chuckles at your dismissive attitude, he wasn’t used to being blown off like you had been doing right now, shooting down his effort line after line. Though he wasn’t mad at it, he liked the thrill of having to warm you up to him, it would make it all the more attractive to have you on your knees begging for him after having been rejected by you time and time again.

“Since, you’re gonna be stalking me the entire night might as well tell me your name.’’ you speak absentmindedly as your eyes remain glued to your setlist.

“Lee hyunjae, lead singer of Wolfsbane.’’

“Ah so you’re one of Younghoons friends, explains a lot?’’

“Oh? Care to share?”

“Younghoon himself is pretty full of himself sometimes, no surprise that someone with lines like yours is associated with him.’’

“You sound like you know him pretty well?’’

“I’ve known him since diapers, i think i'm far past just knowing him ‘pretty well’.’’

“So Younghoons been keeping you to himself all this time then, of course he would be the one to keep someone as beautiful as you to himself.’’

“You just keep these lines coming don’t you?’’ Hyunjae finally seemed to gain a smile and a soft laugh from you at his persistence, it wasn’t much to go off of , but he considered it a win.

“Happy to know I can bring a smile to those beautiful lips.’’ Although he was satisfied with having made you laugh, Hyunjae couldn’t help but wonder what else he could get you to do with those pretty lips of yours.

To your surprise Hyunjae had kept his word when he said that he would stick by the booth the entire night, only ever leaving it to grab drinks for the two of you or use the restroom. You have to admit compared to the many other guys you’d turn down, out of every one of them Hyunjae was quite persistent. Halfway through the party you had been showing Hyunjae the controls to your setup when a one of the part goers drunk off their ass decided it was a good idea to come up on the booth for a dance which ended in them spelling their drink on your shirt and Hyunjae having to stop you from kicking their ass on the spot. Hyunjae of course found it hot seeing how riled up it had gotten , but he knew no god would come out of whooping the idiots ass when he was already drunk off it. As his arms wrapped around your waist and scooped you back up to the booth he found himself holding you there a little longer than he should have, an action that went unnoticed by you

“I’m sure younghoon has something you could borrow in his room one sec.’’ Hyunjae slips away from you for a moment asking Eric who was now soaking wet since the last time he saw him for reasons he didn’t even bother to ask.

“You mind looking after the DJ booth for a minute? And please don’t touch anything.’’

“Sure thing.’’

Moments later Hyunjae returned to the booth with eric who you were a little skeptical about leaving behind to look after your equipment, but in the moment it was either stand here the entire night smelling like pineapple and tequila, or trust that Hyunjae had found someone suitable enough to look after your stuff. Obviously you chose the latter, following Hyunjae as he pushed past the crowd and up the staircase into what you assumed was Younghoons bedroom.

“I’ll find you something and just take your shirt down to the laundry room before the night ends.’’

While you made your way into the bathroom , Hyunjae rummaged through Younghoons closet to find something suitable for you to wear. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he went through it all and happened to find some girls' clothes amongst his own. Just as he suspected he ended up finding a white crop top and woman's skirt. Hyunjae made his way out of Younghoons closet finally having found something for you to throw on but was stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes landed on you emerging from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your body and water trickling down your neck.

“Did you find anything?’’

At this point Hyunjae had no longer been listening to a word you were saying, he was too busy taking a mental image of you stood right before him in nothing, but a towel.

“hyunjae?’’

“Fuck this.’’ Throwing the clothes he had just found off to the side he wasted no time walking up to you and smashing his lips against yours, pushing you dead against the glass window behind you. Before you knew it he had pulled your towel off and threw it somewhere on the other side of the room. His hands roamed your body as if he had been trying to memorize every dip and curve. His lips hungrily kissing and sucking at your soft and supple lips that had felt even softer than he imagined they would.

“Hyunjae wait- we can’t.’’ his hand immediately made its way to your neck, silencing you almost instantaneously and making you press your thighs together, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“We can't, what baby? You’ve been turning me down all night now look at you a complete mess when i haven’t even touched you yet. What happened to not falling for my charm sweetheart?’’ he was entirely right, the entire time you had been turning him down and now that he had you cornered her the only thing you could think about was the ache between your thighs.

“On your knees princess, i wanna see how you look with your pretty lips wrapped around me baby.’’

“But- someone might see.’’

“I don’t care let them, I want them to see who’s got you like this, looking all pretty and vulnerable. Want them to know just how pretty you look all fucked out, lips swollen and know that i’m the only one that can get you.’’

The more he spoke the more you felt like every thought in your head had turned to mush. While holding eye contact with him you slowly but surel kneel down before him.

“Good girl, look how well you’re listening now.’’ Flashing his lower stomach as he busies himself with pulling his cock out of his pants. You find yourself vaguely scandalized at the sight. His cock is just as pretty as his fingers. He slowly, steadily tilts your head up. When he draws back, you lean in insistently, ignoring a little shiver on his part at how close your face gets. You find your mouth running dry at the glimmer of a tiny drop of pre-cum at the tip of his cock, at least before it gets swept away by his fingers.

“Open.” You obediently open your mouth, sticking out your tongue and letting a wine spill from your lips as he slides his finger from your tongue allowing you to taste him for the first time.

His hand wraps around the base of his cock as he holds your face. You watched the way his face contorts as he shoved himself past your lips ignoring the way you gag and choke on him. The flat of your tongue presses to the tip, and you find yourself moaning at the way his whole body seems to flinch. A hum vibrates in his chest. Your mouth envelops his cock, and Hyunjae grips hard at your hair, fisting it up into a ponytail. He stops making noise altogether as your lips venture mid-way, holding his breath while you pause to run your tongue against the underside. Then, when you hollow your cheeks and pull back up, a ragged sound escapes his throat. Pre-cum spurts over your tastebuds. Sinking down, you take him deeper with each bob of your head, building into a steady, consistent rhythm which drives Hyunjae all the more mad.

“Fuck You look so pretty, your pretty lips sucking on me like a desperate little thing even with tears in your eyes.”

Low growls hit your ears when he begins to buck his hips up to meet your mouth, gripping tighter onto your dark locs he mercilessly fucks deep into your mouth hitting the back of your throat over and over again without considering for your gags and chokes. He thought you looked the prettiest right now, the image of you with a mouthful of his cock and tears running down your sweet face was all he needed to see to know he wouldn’t be going easy on you tonight.

“You’re doing so good baby, just a little longer for me yeah?” At this point the way you were taking him had him seeing stars. It wasn’t until he looked down at you to see your big beautiful eyes looking up at him so desperately that his hips began to falter and you took over once again knowing he was close to release. Watching the way you sucked and slurped on his cock was enough to push him over the edge. Hyunjaes

cum flows down your throat, giving you a surge of energy.

“Fuck you look so beautiful.” Not giving you any room to breathe his lips smashed onto yours as he lifted you up from the floor and presses you stairs the glass of the window.

lifting your hips he watches the expression on your face contort as he slides into you. He began to thrust into you with feverish intent, loving the way you cried out at how he stretched and opened you up. The sound of skin smacking masking your cries. He’s hot and pulsing deep inside of sending jolts of pleasure up your spine that make your eyes roll back. His hands grip your hips, and his cock fills you up properly, the dark bedroom only full of the sounds of sex and his eyes downcast on your form taking in every detail of your fucked out frame.

“Look at you, all drunk and fucked out on my cock, i bet you don’t even care in the slightest that anyone could be watching us from outside right now is that right princess?”

“N-no, f-fuck hyunjae.” He's giddy at the way you moan out his name and his hand immediately takes its rightful place around your throat.

“How about we give them a different view, yeah!” Pulling out of you he turned you around, bending you over so that you were facing the window having an exact view of Younghoons backyard where a few of the guests had been standing around.

“Let them see how pretty you look taking my cock baby, so fucking pretty.”

Without warning he shoves back into you from behind pulling you close to his chest and wrapping his hand tightly around your neck as he drilled into you. His skin is heated and feverish against yours and you allow his body to stick to yours with the sweat beading off his chest. You squeeze around him, earning another one of those sweet moans from him that fluttered your stomach every time you hear it. As you felt him twitch inside of you there was a burning sensation enveloping the inside of your stomach, as you came around his cock he came for the second time that night, his cum completely coating your walls, anything that corner fit dripping right out of your cunt and onto your thighs.

[ask-the-dunmeshi-biologists]

What does a scientist illusttaor do? I wanted to be one when I was little, and even though I have different dreams now, I still practice drawing plants and animal around me as best I can when I'm at parks and such.

This is going to be really silly, cuz I know objectively it's an important job, but like, um, what do scientific illustrators do for science aside from make realistic illustrations for animals? What exactly does the kob entail? Is it fun? Sorry my question was definitely worded rudely I'm not quite sure how to ask it I just genuinely want to know how scientific illustrator niche fits into the wonderful world of science!

[Velwyrm: Hello there! Scientific Illustration, although not outwardly impacting research, is a fundamentally incredibly important part of the school of science! I’m glad you asked, because there is SO many amazing things that you can do with this skill.

Scientific Illustration is the skill of drawing accurate, precise drawings of scientific diagrams (bio, chemistry and physics all use these). They can be very simple, such as those seen in textbooks, or incredibly detailed, like many of the dinosaur illustrators we see today that use the most updated information available to visualise what the animal would have looked like. This is very important in the context of museum specimens and paleobiology, as fluid preserved specimens quickly bleach & loose colour, and bones can only help people visualise an animal so much.

Scientific Illustration is also used outside of the context of scientific research (though it is used in various papers and posters to gain funding, e.g. in medicine). For example, in advertising, marketing, raising money for volunteering organisations (clearing invasive species — sometimes illustrations are vastly clearer than photographs when IDing) and childrens books, or animal dictionaries that I used to love reading as a kid!

If you or anyone else is thinking of pursuing this career or hobby, then helps to have a degree in biology or other sciences (especially illustrating for medical purposes), but you don’t necessarily need one if you’re very very lucky. There’s a few short courses on Skillshare for animal illustration if you want to give it a try, but I personally would recommend getting a degree in one of the sciences though as it would open a lot more doors and opportunities.

Art and science truly do go hand in hand!]

[elysabeththequeene]

i kinda needed to get this out of my chest

i feel like i’ve lived at least two lives this year, one moment i was waking up at 7:00 am to commute and head to my work where i was an assistant at a museum back in the philippines and the next thing i knew i was now here, waking up in my own flat living alone and getting ready for my seminar on medieval architecture at a university in england. it is crazy.

the thing is i’ve pretty much been caged my whole life, during the 2020-2021 season of the pandemic and lockdown i was also at one of my lowest (being stuck at home with a parent you don’t get along nor have the best relationship with, your eating disorder and ptsd relapsing, just amongst other things) and i’m honestly still in awe at myself for having survived. exactly a week before i moved to the uk last september, my grandfather’s sister (who was my nan growing up and took care of me since i was a child) passed away, and she was 102 years old, she lived a wonderful life and i will always remember her for being a loving and kind guardian. and for some reason, that was the moment i knew a part of the life i once had back in my old country was over and so was one of the last bits of my childhood. i can still remember the last thing she told me was that she hoped getting to pursue my studies abroad and finding a career there will finally give me the peace and happiness i have been searching and needing, and funny enough, she was right.

that being said, i’ve only been living here for around three and a half months still but this has been the most peaceful my mind has been in and i have never been more at ease. i can sort of call this my “you’re on your own kid” moment (listening to the song on the plane struck me so differently when i left) i realised i was also healing from a lot of my past trauma, looking forward to waking up the next day, living in the present and enjoying the moment. sure it’s not always easy, being a young woman from a whole foreign country moving elsewhere because she knew where her heart stood and wanted, but nevertheless i am also very grateful, i never knew i would actually end up in where i am right now but i wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

[jmenvs3000semester]

Unit 10: The Final Blog Post!

I can’t believe this is our last blog post! Throughout this course, we have explored many concepts and aspects of nature interpretation, such as what it is, which encompasses much more than I initially thought. I now understand that there are many intertwined components of nature interpretation that I must consider in order to interpret to all audiences and have them get the most out of a nature interpretation program, walk, session etc.

 I have developed over the length of this course as a nature interpreter. I am still unsure if I want to pursue a career in nature interpretation, however, I can see myself taking up a summer job in this field, either at a museum or possibly with Parks Canada at a park, historic site, or conservation area. If I were to take up a job as a nature interpreter, all of the questions in our final blog prompt are helpful and reflective questions to ask myself before I step into this career path.

The first statement in the prompt is, “Describe your personal ethic as you develop as a nature interpreter”. After reading this sentence, I was lost on where to start because I first thought my personal ethics and values in my own life won’t apply to nature interpretation, however, after reflecting on what I’ve learned and read this semester that is not true. In chapter 3 “Values to Individuals and Society”, the textbook created a bridge between the values an individual has and can gain from nature interpretation and how this can benefit society. I would have to agree. My individual outlook and values I hold close, such as respect and love for others, hope, and the power of knowledge, can translate to nature interpretation as you can develop values such as these from exploring, understanding, and appreciating the places around you, and your role in the world (Beck et al., 2018). By allowing people the opportunity to do so, with myself being their interpreter, I can provide them with the tools, facts, frameworks, lessons and knowledge to develop their values and relationship with the natural world around them (Beck et al., 2018). Also, by applying this personal ethic of mine to all that I provide interpretation to, hopefully, those I speak to can go on to spread what they’ve learned to those around them. Together we can create a society that feels inspired to educate themselves, get outside and be active while respecting all parts of nature.

I briefly touched on my beliefs in this previous paragraph, but I didn’t mention the inclusion and importance of said inclusion of history in nature interpretation. Chapter 15 “Interpreting History”, I’m glad that we had the opportunity to read this chapter, as many places where people go to seek to connect with nature as a past and a history. In Canada and many countries worldwide, Indigenous Peoples have been displaced from their homes, or have had their land stolen through the signing of treaties. Many provincial parks in Canada reside on traditional land, therefore, the story of a park/site’s history would not be complete without talking about the culture of the Indigenous Communities that lived on that land as communities and their culture don’t solely exist in the past but still exist to this day (Beck et al., 2018). An alternative currently happening that is just as or even more critical is returning the land to the Indigenous Communities they were stolen from. There is one instance where two parks in British Colombia, Discovery Island Marine Park are being returned to The Songhees and Sookie Mountain Park is being returned to T’Sou-ke Nations, where the parks will be managed by these communities and still open to the public (CBC, 2023). My responsibility as a nature interpreter is connected to incorporating and honouring history in interpretation as we have the privilege to be in a position to share knowledge and educate others, we have a duty to share parts of history and people that were and continue to be impacted in an accurate and authentic way (Beck et al., 2018). This means presenting listeners with the whole truth using through research, accurate information from all that is included, therefore considering objective and constructed authenticity, but also factoring in personal authenticity. (Beck et al., 2018).

The approaches that are most suitable for me as an individual revolves around using modern technology and media to gain the attention of younger audiences. Based on our readings for Unit 10 and Richard Louv’s discussion on Nature-deficit Disorder, I agree that getting kids to connect to nature from a young age is essential, as it can spark positive impacts later in life, physically, emotionally and mentally. Looking back at my first post about my childhood growing up on a farm, I realized how fundamental the times I spent outside in the fields and forests shaped my relationship with nature today. Many kids miss that opportunity, therefore, if they have limited access to the natural world, but they have technology readily available to them, then I think taking the technology approach can be beneficial. By taking this approach, I don’t mean telling kids to spend more time on their iPad, iPod or phone. I mean using the tools technology can offer, such as apps, to get kids to go outside and explore. As mentioned in Unit 08, the app “Sky Guide” can be used to identify constellations, and that reminded me of a memory I had of something similar. When my friends and I were at a cottage, we sat on the dock and admired the night sky and want to know exactly what we were looking at. So, we downloaded an app similar to "Sky Guide", and just sat there for a while discovering constellations we never heard of. I want to inspire kids to make memories like these. I want them to know that there are tools with technology that can allow them to be curious and want to go and discover cool parts of nature, and not just see it all from their screens at home.

Beck, Larry, Cable, Ted, and Knudson Douglas. Interpreting Cultural and Natural Heritage For A Better Worl. Sagamore Venture, 2018.

[altheterrible]

The water is only knee deep.

Well I haven’t written a long, rambling post about my life in awhile, so here we go.

Right now, my life has a level of stability that is truly unprecedented.

When I moved to Detroit for grad school and was suddenly away from my family and their drama, I found myself in a much more stable environment than I had ever been, and it was unfamiliar and uncomfortable. I reacted by causing my own chaos, because at the time I only felt normal if I was in fight or flight mode. Hence the years of stitches and hospitalizations and all that jazz.

Now, though, I am in a very stable place and I don’t feel compelled to ruin it. I feel like...instead of getting knocked over again and again by crashing waves, I am standing up in the water and realizing it’s only knee deep. I’m surveying my surroundings for the first time because I’m finally not struggling to keep my head above water.

This is what I see.

Getting my pharmacist license back is going to require paying my fine and probably getting a lawyer as well as acquiring documentation from my therapist that says I am now stable enough to practice pharmacy. That will not be a problem, she is 100% on my side. My sister will be a lawyer in a year so I have that covered. I will not have $1000 in a year, but I should get a decent tax refund this year that I can put towards it. 

But! I do not know if I want to go back to pharmacy. Retail pharmacy is soul sucking. Telling old people they can’t have their anticoagulant unless they have $200/month, telling people they can’t have inhalers or insulin unless they pay...it’s unethical, frankly, and I won’t do it. Hospital pharmacy would be a better fit, but that generally requires a residency and I absolutely can’t even afford to apply for residency especially since I know that with my record, I wouldn’t match.

There’s a certificate in medical writing I want to start working on, but I can’t get financial aid and I can’t afford even one class a semester. But medical writing would be a good fit for me--I understand clinical research, I enjoy writing, and I am good at breaking things down so people can understand them. But, money. Always money.

I applied for a recently-opened lead position at my current job, and the pay bump would be nice, but it’s still only part time. That said, I really enjoy what I do there and I love my coworkers. It’s low stress and no one throws things at me. I would absolutely abandon pharmacy to pursue a career in museums, but it’s such a hard industry to break into. There's a gulf between customer service at a museum and the curators/designers/science folks, and it is huge and impassable.

My sister is giving me more responsibility at the library. I’m going to start running an adult book/movie club in September in addition to running monthly teen nights. I’m doing a murder mystery night in October as well, and the annual trunk or treat. I’m going to be working 5-6 days a month instead of the 1-2 that I have been, so I’ll have a little extra money. I really enjoy working on library programming, I love coming up with ideas for programs and then making them into reality. I’ve looked at finishing my MLIS, but my credits expired last year and I think I’d have to start over. But in Michigan, you don’t really need an MLIS to be a high-ranking library employee, and my sister says she thinks I would make a great director once I get some more management experience under my belt. She’s going to teach me the secrets of grant writing and she’s working with me about learning how to report our data to the state for state aid. I think working in libraries could be extremely fulfilling. I’ve toyed with the idea of sending a resume off to the local medical school library to see if they need an assistant. 

One of my goals for therapy when I switched therapists in January was that I wanted to be able to make a firm commitment to staying alive. I’ve always felt very ambivalent about the future. I wasn’t sure there would be anything in the future worth sticking around for. Now I realize I need to make those things myself. I think I finally am committed to staying alive. I still go down suicidal, life-is-meaningless, I wish I was dead spirals, but they don’t last too long. Idk, maybe it’s the Prozac. Maybe it’s working jobs that don’t make me hate myself. Maybe it’s having a life that’s predictable enough that I can actually plan for the future.

For the first time in my life, I don’t feel the urge to run and leave everything and everyone behind. I’m letting myself form relationships with people that actually mean something to me. I sometimes still feel like if I disappeared, nothing in the world would change, but mostly I’m starting to see the worth in myself that other people keep insisting is there. I’m treating myself better. Trying to rest, trying to be creative daily, putting my needs before other peoples’ wants. 

I don’t want to say I’m happy, because I don’t want to jinx it, but I am content most of the time. I whine and complain a lot, but that’s just who I am as a person; a whiny baby. When I go to bed at night, I no longer wish to die in my sleep. I don’t pray to get hit by a bus or a car or an asteroid anymore. And you know, maybe that will change. Maybe things will get dark again. Right now, I feel okay about that, too. I’m just enjoying my quiet little life and not bracing myself for the next catastrophe. It might come, it might not, but that doesn’t mean that right now, this moment, needs to be rushed.

[lgbtq-history-museum-cfl-intern]

New Internship, New Blog

Hello Internet World!

My name is Marena 😊

 I’m a senior in the Interdisciplinary Studies Undergraduate Program at the University of Central Florida (UCF), minoring in History, Latin American Studies, and Spanish.

I’m back to take you all through my latest internship journey with the LGBTQ History Museum of Central Florida (see link below)😊

Last year, for my previous internship blog (see link below), I was working as a research assistant and married to the idea of becoming a university professor.

However, due to a sudden decline in my health in late Spring of this year, (from health complications due to exacerbated pre-existing conditions from burnout), I had to reconsider my career path, this time truly considering my capacities and limitations, lifestyle, and passions, with my career interests.

As a student living with many health conditions, I had to learn to prioritize and accommodate those needs, including how I could remain in the realm of public learning spaces.

 I thought back to my time interning at the Orange County Regional History Center (OCRHC) in Downtown Orlando and the awesome experience of working with the collections department that summer. Since then, I’ve always said I want more working experience with museum collections, but I concluded, “Instead of it being a stepping stone toward a professorship in history, why not make it the destination?”

And that is how I came to embrace a career in …well… something in museum collections?

…or more broadly speaking, Public History, and I’ll explain why that distinction is important to me for now.

This brings me to my current internship with the LGBTQ History Museum!

This experience will be unique because although I’ve had an internship with a museum before, this is a virtual museum! However, they were recently provided a humble space for live exhibits at a local LGBTQIA+ community resource center, The Center, at their Orlando location.

I will be working with new (for me) digital tools and formats to research, design, and create their next exhibit. I’m not really sure how much I’m allowed to share about it right now about the upcoming exhibit but their current exhibit, Central Florida and the 1980s AIDS Crisis: A History, came together over about a year to a year and a half as one idea became a paper which became a blog post and evolved into their debut live exhibit.

I learned this from one of the Board members I met when I visited the exhibit on its opening night. Those who attended were so friendly and welcoming. I look forward to collaborating with them this semester after meeting them, getting a feel for their dynamic, and seeing the work they put together. I know I will learn a lot from their mentorship and experience as we organize the next one!

Since I’m planning to graduate this December, I chose this internship to prepare me for a career in Public History with experience in the growing integration of digital tools and spaces in the field, as well as working on a collaborative project. I hope to take these skills with me into graduate school and my career.

While my research interests have not shifted, my approach has, and the project itself has taken a backseat until I can pursue it again, perhaps for a master’s thesis or a doctoral research project.

As a Public Historian, I’m still invested in the stories of local Puerto Rican women like me, and I want to contribute to collecting these stories. However, I also want to advocate for expanding the availability of other diverse local histories through my work in collections, archiving, oral history, or wherever Public History takes me.

The specificity of Public History is significant because, though I have a narrow idea of what I can do with the title and what sort of work is available, Public History is so much more than exhibits and museums.

It’s making knowledge and learning relevant and readily accessible to the community from designating/protecting local historical landmarks to speaking to local leaders on podcast episodes, to tackling local topics in a film documentary, or even documenting your journey and experience on a public forum such as Tumblr!

With that said, one of my internship requirements is to record my experiences through this blog, and this time I hope to experiment with posting audio files instead of written posts to try and familiarize myself with different tools and formats!

If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading and I hope you stick around for the next few months 😊

Relevant Links:

The first will take you to the LGBTQ History Museum of Central Florida's Website!

The second is a link to my previous internship blog which covers some of my experience then as well as some research topics of interest that came up that semester!

[teacherintransition]

Let’s Face it…Life is too Short…

to Let Fear Make Decisions!

"What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?" Vincent Van Gogh

Blog writing 101: Write a title that grabs the readers attention. Hell, everyone wants more time. I suppose there’s a part of our populace that would look at the title and say, “well golly gee, I got time runnin outta the ears…I got so much time …I got no place to put it; move all that time outta here!” Surely, I jest …surely. The amount of time and the severe feeling of lacking it, is oh so relative and dependent on your time of life. Raising kids and doing career…I don’t even wanna know from that anymore….there’s was no time! I did it and I think it was done well. Here we are … in the gentle area of retirement; all we have is time….Don’t…you…believe…it!

From these enlightened pages, I’ve preached the glory of retirement being the time for you, time free from stress, time to do all the things you want. Well, it sounds good for an ad for retiring, but the truth of that is slightly askew. No judgement zone here, if retirement is you napping in the hammock or rocking the rocker…you go! You’ve earned the privilege of doing your thing. I’ll write from the perspective I know best …mine and that of the other members of the great triumvirate…Rudolpho and Radolpho.

We all approached this time of our lives as more of a beginning of life than a slowing down. There would finally be time to focus on me…what excites me…personal growth. The human condition is what it is, and the same insecurities that tormented you as a young human are still hanging around when you retire. Caleb Wojcik, a film and videography instructor I’ve run across in my reading analyzed comments on a video he put together on fear. He shares:

Based on hearing from readers of Pocket Changed, one of the biggest fears people have in their lives is failure.

* Afraid they won't succeed if they try something new

* Fear that they might never "make it" doing what they are passionate about

* Fear that keeps them from following their heart*

Now, one would think that these three states of mind would no longer be an issue, but au contraire my fellow sojourners of life…here they be! Almost verbatim. I suppose there is somewhat of a safety cushion knowing that you had a career that you gave your life to; you raised a family who you loved completely and you made a home that gave security. You have nothing to prove to anyone….except yourself. Ugh, dammit STILL!? If you have goals and dreams beyond the hammock….you’ll either achieve them or you won’t, there it is sports fans. Stress, performance anxiety, pressure…just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in

The dilemma I think I have come across is not just making a good show at my dreams, but focusing on them to the point that spontaneity in trying new experiences outside my goal parameters is suffering. When you’re raising your family, you often had to turn down out of the box adventures because of real, responsible reasons. “We can’t afford to do that” or “on weekends, the boys have baseball tournaments “ or “work takes up too much time;” all of these reasons are based in familial obligation and devotion. Now, you have time? You certainly have it to pursue the dreams, but a tunnel vision based on just those particular things can rob you of the spontaneous, unplanned experiences that keeps life exciting.

Am I writing? Yes. Am I selling my art? Yes. Are we traveling? Yes. Am I working out? Yes. Have I started playing golf again? No. Have I toured museums? No, not really. Have I just gone out to the middle of nowhere and just camped a couple of days? No. Volunteer work? A couple of times. Here’s the conundrum: staying focused on the particulars and not having time for serendipitous living. What are we saying “no” to in life? Why? Walking the edge of not turning retirement into a stressful race and a time of not trying anything different is a real problem.

All of this is subjective thinking, maybe I’m the only one feeling like I’m missing something…perhaps you have it all together….man! Perhaps this food for thought is just admonition not to close your mind to something new that comes across your path. I just want to know why I might be saying no to certain things. I was heavily involved with writing yesterday and knew it was my workout day. As a consequence, I turned down a rescue run for some dogs in Keller. Was it wrong? I dunno…I feel like my “schedule” denied me a chance to do some good and have some fun. What’s good for you at twenty is also good for you at fifty six. I guess you STILL have to learn you can’t do it all in one day. If something comes from left field…go with it. The restraints of life and obligation have been loosened (not ignored…oh hell that a whole other topic) don’t replace them with new restraints that remove the variety of new days!

*Wojcik, Caleb; “50 Inspiring Quotes to Help You Overcome the Fear of Failure;” https://www.calebwojcik.com; 30/01/2012; Caleb Wojcik Films L.L.C

[creativemorningsvancouver]

November’s global theme is ‘TRUTH’ and we are thrilled to showcase accomplished writer, creative director, 
public art enthusiast, designer, 
and amateur printer Leanne Prain who will share insights and perspectives and her personal story of creativity.

REGISTER

By day Prain works as a creative director for a crown corporation, and at night she writes. She is the author of four books published by Arsenal Pulp Press: The Creative Instigator’s Handbook: A DIY Guide to Making Social Change Through Art (2022), Strange Material: Storytelling Through Textiles, Yarn Bombing: The Art of Crochet and Knit Graffiti, co-authored with Mandy Moore; and Hoopla: The Art of Unexpected Embroidery. She also writes for a variety of publications on craft and culture, such as Digits and Threads, Designer, Desktop, Works that Work, Applied Arts, and Seamwork. 



Leanne is a former president of the BC Chapter of the Society of Graphics Designers (now DesCan), and a Certified Design Professional. She is also an amateur printer – having recently acquired a tabletop letterpress and some 100 year old wood-type. Leanne has been called a Shameless Woman by Shameless magazine and a Lingo Maker of the Year by Mclean’s magazine. Her creative projects and books have been featured in The New York Times, The New Yorker, Vogue Knitting, the BBC, the Guardian UK, CBC, and the Globe and Mail.

As usual, we asked Leanne a handful of probing questions to give us a deeper glimpse into her life and relationship with creativity:

How do you define creativity and apply it in your life and career? I define creativity as problem-solving with a curious and open mind. For me, I often find that I’m most creative when I’m seeking an answer to a big question or I’m trying to fill a gap in my knowledge or experience. Creativity is not the answer for me – it is the process of trying to improve oneself and life by having a healthy appetite for new experiences, and the will to try and process what I’ve learned from these experiences through writing or making or gathering my community together.

Where do you find your best creative inspiration or energy? I get my best creative energy from new places and new people. I am definitely an information seeker – when I profile some one I want to know everything about them I possibly could know. People are endlessly fascinating to me. I also find human-made places a source of inspiration, whether that is a historic piece of architecture, an unusual small town museum, or a side-show attraction. I’m a collector of all sorts of things – from ephemera to vintage dishware to publishing antiquities. I get a lot of inspiration from learning about the past and thinking about how it applies to our collective future.

What’s one piece of creative advice or a tip you wish you’d known as a young person? Focus on what excites you. Even if your current interests seem tangential to your school projects or your ideal career path, you never know what strange connections will come out of pursuing what you love. Also, you have more support than you think you do. I’m constantly delighted by the acquaintances and strangers who have come out of the woodwork to support my projects.

Who (living or dead) would you most enjoy hearing speak at CreativeMornings? Dead: Pamela Colman Smith, original illustrator of the Rider tarot deck Living: Jackie Dives, Vancouver photographer of many things, including chronicling the Lytton Wildfire, Bountiful, the Overdoes Crisis…. I met her when she was just starting her career and I’m amazed at how quickly she has pushed her photo journalism.

What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done? I sent an email to a stranger who I’d only met once, who I cyberstalked online, and asked them if they wanted to write a book about the yarn bombing movement with me. Luckily, they said yes – and we wrote a book that has been in print for over 12 years. Thanks Mandy!

What’s your one guilty creative indulgence? YouTube. I started watching people who stumble into abandon houses or dig up vintage bottles over the pandemic. I find watching other people treasure hunting very soothing.

What are you reading these days? I am currently reading Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder, which is a novel about a feral, artistic mother who takes on werewolf characteristics and Just My Type, a book about fonts by Simon Garfield. Next I really want to read How Not to Be Strange: The Curious History of the Island of Redonda by Michael Hingston. It is his personal account of a real island – Redonda – that a series of real authors have made each other king over generations. The book sounds bonkers and amazing.

How does your life and career compare to what you envisioned for your future when you were a sixth grader? When I was in grade six, I wanted to be making crafts, be writing stories, to live in a city, and to own a cat. Checkmate.

How would you describe what you do in a single sentence to a stranger? I rally people to do absurd, unusual, and fun projects together.

What’s the most recent thing you learned (big or small)? I was recently at a store in Toronto called Curiosa. I learned the difference between a zoetrope and a praxinoscope, both which are vintage animation tools. Both use still images to produce an animation but only a zoetrope allows a group to see the full animation.

What keeps you awake at night? The climate crisis. The decline of old growth trees. The housing crisis. The fentanyl crisis. Fish farms. Textile waste. People who ban books.

What myths about creativity would you like to set straight? Creativity is not a label that belongs to any one group of people, I believe that all people are inherently creative, we just show it in different ways. Creativity visits on some days, and does not on other days. It is best harnessed when we are in the act of doing things. I do not believe in waiting around to be creative or waiting for someone else to make you creative. Go read some stuff, make some stuff and experiment. Along the way, you’ll begin to feel creative.

What has been one of your biggest Ah-Ha! moments in life? No one is going to show up and ask you to act on your dreams but if you can cultivate a vision for the thing that you want to bring into the world, or the goals that you want to achieve, you will find a surprising number of people to collaborate with and who will cheer you along as you go. I believe that if you create something that you need in the world, other people probably need it too.

What object would you put in a time capsule that best represents who you are today? A 0.7 Sarasa black ballpoint pen. My primary tool for thinking, plotting, and strategizing.

What is the one movie or book every creative must see/read? Love it or hate it, The Writer’s Way is a classic for a reason. It taught me more about showing up, angst, and creative relationship building than any other book. Gordon MacKenzie’s Orbiting The Giant Hairball is also a great book for those entering a corporate creative life. REGISTER

[oflgtfol]

hey i saw your post saying you majored in astronomy. i am currently 17. i love physics and i have always loved space since i was young. but im having second thoughts. high school physics is tough. im not that bad in math as a subject but it gives me a lot of uncomfort and anxiety. the math in physics so far hasnt caused a problem for me. do you think its still worth it to go for physics of should i give up on this idea and do something else instead? sorry bothering u with this im clueless rn

don’t apologize! i wish i had someone to ask for advice when i was younger too

so i’m actually still currently majoring in astronomy and going through my own crisis over whether i want to continue on or not, so with that i say: you will not make it unless you’re either super in love with math, or super dedicated towards pushing through it anyway. you need a lot of passion and commitment to really go far with astronomy, or at least to really make it into the academia side of it.

i really don’t want to scare you, but i also want to be frank and upfront as a warning early on so that you’re not left like me, about to graduate and only now having serious doubts that i should have had earlier on

if you do truly love physics + astronomy and it’s only the math holding you back, then i’d say maybe look into more public outreach things instead, like teaching in k-12 schools or science communication via science journalism and museum work, or. other things that i’m also still currently researching myself because this is the alternative route that i’m hopefully going to be taking. so if you’re aware of this alt route from a younger age than me, then hopefully you can gear your path more directly towards it, like take some journalism and communication classes concurrently with your physics classes to get the joint experience. (AKA dont do what i did and gear most of your workload towards the goal of doing academia post undergrad and then only in your senior year realize that was all for naught)

but definitely at least start your undergrad in physics + astro, get a taste for the type of math that you’ll be doing and see if the thought of doing this for the rest of your life fills you with bone deep despair or not. if it does: look into alternative astronomy careers. if it does not, and you actually enjoy it: definitely tough it out and maybe go for academia then!

EDIT: also if you decide to pursue something else entirely but you still love astronomy and physics, then i’d also recommend you take on one/both of them as a minor! then you get a taste of it without hinging your whole college success on it, and it can be combined with other majors in really interesting ways (geology, chemistry, engineering, computer science, etc are all ones that go really well with astronomy and/or physics, off the top of my head)

[lovelytaes-blog]

colours (1) - kth

pairings: singledad!taehyung x artist!reader

synopsis: when you meet a little girl at a park by chance, who would've thought that you'd be falling in love with the man who had the exact same boxy smile as her in such little time?

genre: angst, fluff, smut (18+); strangers to lovers

warning(s): angst, fluff.

word count: 8.8k

note(s): helloo lovelies!!! Introducing my taehyung fic! It's pretty short, but I am super proud of this one. I'm so in love with this couple, that it hurts. I hope you enjoy their story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

↳ series masterlist

“So pretty!” You were currently smiling at your toddlers as they were finishing up their finger painting for the day.

You held painting classes on Saturdays in your little studio for toddlers. You began offering these classes in attempts to help out busy parents, that way they could get some errands done; in a sense, it was like a ‘daycare’ program. You didn’t think that it would be as great of a turn out as it was, but thankfully, many parents have taken up the opportunity. You had around 10 kids per session, which doesn’t seem like a lot, but because they all vary in age (3-8) it gets a little rowdy from time to time.

Luckily for you, many of the kids are behaved and well-mannered, of course, you still have the mischievous children, but they never bothered you or done something to upset you. You love kids, so this was really a great addition in your line of work. As an artist, who is well-known for many beautiful paintings at your local art museum, your modestly high income allows you to broaden the creativity in the community. It also gives opportunities for children and their parents to find potential opportunities in the art industry.

“Y/n, they’re doing so well!” Mi-ha whispered to you, while observing the quiet toddlers smiling to themselves while they continued painting.

Mi-ha is one of your best friends, who also happens to work with you during your painting lessons. You and Mi-ha have been best friends ever since college when you both continued your degrees; her in fine arts and yours in sciences. For a number of years, you were in the operating room as an anesthesiologist assistant, surprising, right? Not a lot of people knew you were in the medical field before you quit altogether—well sort of… you still volunteered on your days off at your local hospitals—to pursue your art career, it really is unbelievable and a great accomplishment at just 22. You were always a smart child, graduating high school and university earlier than most. Your parents couldn’t have been prouder, even when you told them that you wanted to pursue your art career, they supported you through and through. You were thankful that they were so supportive of your decision.

“Yoon-ji is enjoying herself, I’m glad!” You gushed while pointing to Mi-ha’s daughter who was happily painting random lines on her canvas. Mi-ha had Yoon-ji three years ago, with her long-time boyfriend, now husband, Namjoon. It was a surprise for everyone, nonetheless, the couple was excited for the arrival of their first child together. You remember how freaked out Mi-ha was when she had the positive pregnancy test in her hands. She was nervous about telling Joon, but eventually you had given her enough courage to tell him, after all, it’s his kid too. From your understanding, Namjoon’s friends all had children, at least from what Mi-ha said, maybe a couple of them didn’t, but you weren’t completely sure. You, however, hadn’t any of them, even though you’re closest to Mi-ha, Joon, and Yoon-ji, you never really had the pleasure of hanging out with Joon’s friends.

“Okay kiddies, time to clean up! Your parents will be coming soon!” You exclaimed to the kids while hearing groans. Giggling to yourselves, you and Mi-ha helped wash up the kids. It didn’t take long to put away the paints, easels, and canvases, since they were much smaller than your normal sized ones that you keep in the back room, for your purposes. You had gathered up the mini stools and stacked them in the closest where your other mini supplies were. Shutting it, you turned around to see all the little boys and girls smiling brightly up at you.

“Thank you, Ms. Y/n!” They bowed, respectively. Bowing too, you smiled at all of them.

“You’re very welcome! Now let me just get your parents!” Walking over to the closed door, you welcomed the parents of the children. Each child held up their artwork towards their parents while they left with mumbled thank you’s and see you next week’s. As the last child left your studio, Namjoon walked in giving you a wave.

“Appa!” Yoon-ji ran towards her dad, who welcomed her with opened arms. Picking her up and spinning her around, Mi-ha giggled beside you at her little family.

“Hey, Yoonie, what’chya got there, hm?” Yoon-ji thrusted her artwork towards him, almost getting his blonde-dyed hair wet with drying paint, had he not tilted his head fast enough, “Wow, princess! So pretty!” He walked over to Mi-ha, pressing a kiss to her temple before turning to you.

“Yoon-ji’s birthday is coming up,” Namjoon says giving his daughter to his wife.

“I know,” You nodded smiling, “Next, next Saturday, right?”

“Yeahp, all of my friends will be there too! So, you finally get to meet the other half of the family.” He jokes with you.

“Ugh, I can’t wait,” You huffed out, “it’s like you two didn’t want me to ever meet them.”

“No!” Mi-ha exclaimed, “it’s just that every time we had something planned with them, you always had an art show!” Joon laughed as Yoon-ji blew raspberries at him with a gleeful gaze.

“Oh, actually?” You wiped your hand on your apron, untying it and hanging it up on the hooks behind you, “Well, thankfully I don’t have an art show for a while, so I’m free!” You checked your watch, “Oh, shoot, sorry guys, I have to run!” You exclaimed grabbing your keys, “I need to let Mochi out.”

“Go ahead, we’ll lock up!” Mi-ha says, “See you next, next Saturday Y/n!”

“Don’t forget to bring whatever snacks you want!”

“Bwye, Awnty Y/n!” You waved to the three and exited the studio.

══════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ══════

“Good girl, Mochi!” You exclaimed jogging with your baby Pomeranian-Husky mix who was running beside you with her tiny legs. Giggling to yourself you picked her up walking her to the park that was by your apartment. Giving her treats as the two of you sat down on the grass, you looked around you to see the park with couples walking their dogs together, people running, or elderly sitting on the benches feeding the birds. You smiled down at the puppy who was gently gnawing at her treat, but her eyes started to droop, leaving her treat half in her mouth and half on the grass as she closed her eyes. You pat her head gently, only to stop when you heard a little yelp from behind you. Peering around you see a little Pomeranian and a little girl with pigtails bobbing behind it.

“Oh, hello there!” You smiled down at the dog, patting its head you noticed the dog staring at the treat in your hand, nudging its head towards it. You comply, as it ate the treat from your hand.

“Yeontan!” The little girl gasped, crouching down to the puppy, who yelped at her. Sighing she sat down with him, but looked up at you with a shy gaze, “Sowwy…”

You cooed at how cute she was, “Oh, don’t be! I have plenty of treats! Mochi is sleeping, she won’t mind!” Handing the little girl more treats for her dog.

“Tank you!” She placed another treat in Yeontan’s mouth, she looked behind her and sighed, “Tannie, Daddy go get mad at us fow wunning off again…” Her shoulders slumped as she placed the dog in her lap.

“Kim Aera!” A man came from behind the trees jogging towards the little girl.

“See, Tannie… He mad mad.” She sighed again, petting the dog.

As the man jogged closer you noticed that he was in baggy pants paired with a beige vest and a white t-shirt. He sported white shoes and many bracelets decorated his wrists. Puffing out air, he crouched down beside the little girl.

“Didn’t I tell you not to run off with Tannie like that?” He sighed, picking up the dog, “and you,” he looked down at the confused looking puppy, “you know better than to run away from your sister like that.” He scolded.

“Sowwy, daddy,” The little girl says making sad eyes at her father, “but! Pwetty yady keep com-com-com... pony!” You watched as the man paused and turned around to look at you. His eyes were a beautiful hazel, probably contacts, and his hair was fluffy. He was really attractive and seemed really young to be a father to a girl who couldn’t be any older than four years old.

“I see…” His eyes gazed into your own, gulping, he gave you a nervous smile, “I’m really sorry about Aera, she and Tannie have a habit of running off.” You laughed dusting off dirt as you stood to your full height. Your eyes widened when you notice that you were still peering up at the man.

Shoot, dude’s gotta be at least 6 feet.

Blushing you coughed, “It’s not a problem, really!” You smiled at him.

You see the child tug on her dad’s pants, he bent down and she whispered to him. His eyes bulging out of his sockets as he put Tannie down and dusted himself off.

“Sh—” He sighed, “I didn’t even introduce us,” He patted the little girl’s head, “This is my daughter Aera,” Aera smiled at you and gave you a wave, “This is Yeontan,” he pointed to the dog that was now laying beside Mochi, who stared with curious eyes at her companion laying beside her.

“And I’m Kim Taehyung.”

Drawing your attention to the model-like man, you smiled shyly, feeling heat rushing to your cheeks as he gave you a boxy grin.

“I’m Hyeon Y/n.” You peered behind you to the puppy that was nuzzling her face into Yeontan’s fur, “and that’s my puppy, Mochi.”

Aera squealed and bent down towards the two puppies, Mochi greeting her with many kisses. Taehyung smiled down at his daughter and looked back at you.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Y/n.” His deep voice rang in your ears again, “Thank you again for accompanying Aera while I looked for them.” You waved a hand.

“Really, Taehyung, it’s no worries, I love kids and puppies!” Gesturing to the three on the ground. Taehyung chuckled before looking back at you.

“We should get going, I’m sure you have things to do. Aera, Tannie.” Taehyung says as Aera patted Mochi’s head one last time before scooping up the Pomeranian and smiling at you.

“Tank you fow da tweats and watch me!” Aera says sweetly before pressing her cheeks against your legs and staring at you, “see you again?” Shocked you peered down at the little girl.

“Aera!” Taehyung exclaims, his cheeks tinted pink as he looked down at you, “I’m sorry—she—”

“Of course!” You smiled, crouching down to the little girl, “I actually hold painting classes at my studio, completely free every Saturday at 9!” You watched the little girl’s face brighten as she looked at her dad. Stunned with yourself you looked up at her dad too before uttering out, “only if it’s cool with your dad.”

“Daddy? Pwease, pwease, pwease! Paint, I paint!” Aera jumped excitedly as she asked for her father’s permission.

“I—” He starts looking down at his daughter’s bright eyes filled with excitement, “I—sure, why not?” He smiled down at his little girl. Aera rushed up to him and gave him a big squeeze, excitedly repeating tank you’s.

“Yay!” You perk up looking at the two, “I’ll see you two…on Saturday?”

“Yes! Next Saturday, though. We have prior arrangements, but next one for sure.” Taehyung says. You smiled.

“Next Saturday then.” You agreed.

“Great, uhm—” Taehyung begins, taking out his phone, “Do you mind if—Can I—May I have your number uhm so I know where your studio is?” He blushed facing his phone to you. You nodded frantically.

“Right! Uh—” You typed in your number giving his phone back to him, “Here you go!”

“Thanks,” He sighs, “for everything, we’ll see you not this week, but next!” You nodded your head.

“Of course! See you guys, it was nice to meet you three!”

“Likewise!” Taehyung said sending you a boxy grin, Aera having the same smile as her dad, the three walked off, while you picked up Mochi and headed to your apartment.

══════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ══════

19:21 08.25.21 ???: hey, thank you again for today. -taehyung.

19:25 08.25.21 y/n: hey, Taehyung! Really, it’s no problem!

19:26 08.25.21 Taehyung☺: Aera is super excited for next Saturday, you said it’s at 9am?

19:28 08.25.21 y/n: yeahp! Here’s the address of my studio xxx!

19:29 08.25.21 Taehyung☺: I was just about to ask, thank you! I’ll let you go, Aera can’t find her socks. Goodnight, y/n.

19:31 08.25.21 y/n: Oh no!!! Guess you gotta find those socks lol! And no problem, Taehyung. See you Saturday ((:

“Who are you smiling at?” Mi-ha’s voice scares you, causing you to tuck your phone away.

“Wha—me?” You blushed looking at your best friend who was carrying a sleepy Yoon-ji, “Just some guy I met at the park today.”

“A guy?!” Mi-ha screeched in a whisper. You nodded.

“Yeah, his daughter was chasing their dog and the dog stumbled upon me and Mochi.” You shrugged, “and before you ask,” Mi-ha’s mouth opened and closed, “yes, he’s unbelievably attractive.” You whine throwing your head back against your couch.

Mi-ha wiggled her eyebrows while heading for the door, “Ouuuu, does he have potential?” Shrugging your shoulders…

“Well—I just met him…” You sighed, “but… maybe? I don’t know.” You mumbled.

Taehyung is an attractive man, and just from meeting him and Aera today, you could already tell that the two were super sweet and super nice.

“Hm… Well, just play it by ear, I guess.” You watched as Mi-ha slipped into her shoes, still carrying a sleeping Yoon-ji, “You deserve to be happy, by the way. I just want you to be happy and in love.” You giggled.

“Yah,” You made your way to the door, “I’ll find it when I find it.” Smiling you gave Mi-ha a side hug as she made her way out of your apartment and down the hall towards her and Namjoon’s.

It was now Wednesday and you were in your studio with Mochi.

After a long week, you were excited to finally see Aera and Taehyung this coming Saturday. You and Taehyung have been texting back and forth during the week, getting to know each other a little more, and of course exchanging work stories for the day. Sometimes he’d text you good morning and good night as well, so you’d often times find yourself smiling constantly whenever you see his name pop up onto your screen. He was—is—such a good guy. The sweetest human you had ever met, and Aera was no different than her father. Some days, Taehyung would send you a picture of Aera, because she wanted to show you her new painting. You couldn’t help but feel all fuzzy and warm when you would receive a text from him. Sometimes he’d even tell you all about the important meetings he’d have and his success with collaborating with other big time fashion icons with upcoming collections for his new menswear line.

Today though, the museum had asked you to come up with a few pieces that could be showed in their gallery for the end of November. It wasn’t one of your art shows, so it wasn’t too demanding and you didn’t have to show face. However, you had to finish the pieces a month before the showcase. It never took you too long to finish a painting piece; you’ve always been creative and had an eye for art. This time you wanted to try something different. Many of your paintings were hung up on display in the museum, along with some of your photography pieces, so this time, you wanted to mix the two mediums in a way that’ll capture the uniqueness of your work.

You heard a quiet bark behind you to see Mochi wagging her tail looking up at you with curiosity. You bent down to pat her head and led her to her little bed in the corner of the studio. The minute she jumped into the large puppy bed; her eyes began to droop. Mochi was so tiny still, only 10 weeks old, that the large bed engulfs her tiny figure. Cooing at the adorable puppy, you went back to painting the large canvas. Humming along with the quiet radio in the background, you left some spaces open for the pictures that you need to take before pasting it onto the canvas too. You were in your own little world thinking about Yoon-ji’s party on Saturday. You had all her gifts ready, along with remembering to pick up her cookies that you had promised Mi-ha to pick up, since Namjoon had to go pick up the cake.

Taehyung then drifted into your mind. Encountering him two Saturday evenings ago, hadn’t stopped playing in your mind. He was the prettiest man you had ever met, and he sounded so humbled, soft-spoken with a very deep voice. He was enticing, and you couldn’t wait to see him again on Saturday. And Aera. Aera is probably the cutest little girl you had ever met, and that’s saying something because you worked with many kids, along with Yoon-ji –who is another very adorable child— but Aera’s features were striking. Definitely too pretty for a three-year-old. But now, with the fact that you two have been texting back and forth for about a week now, that really couldn’t be good for your heart. You’re really not the type to fall for someone quickly, you enjoy being single because it’s less complicated, but for some reason… You were just drawn to the strikingly handsome man.

You heard a knock at the door ripping you from your thoughts. Thinking you were hearing things, you continued painting… Until the knock came louder. Furrowing your eyebrows, you checked your watch, 10:17am, you weren’t expecting Mi-ha for another couple hours.

“Just a minute!” You called setting down your brush and wiping your hands on a rag that you retrieved from the top of your canvas. Pushing your hair out of your face, you reached the knob of the door and pulled it open to reveal the duo that clouded your thoughts just moments ago.

“Hi, Awnty Y/n!” Aera quipped brightly. Today, her hair was pulled up to one side, where she bore a purple bow. She was wearing loose jeans with a white shirt and denim jacket. Beside her stood Taehyung, handsome as ever. Today, he sported loose shorts and a black t-shirt. Super simple, but for some reason, super attractive.

“Oh my gosh, hey!” You peered down at your attire which consisted of leggings a baggy top, and your painting apron. Your cheeks heating up, “Sorry—gosh—I wasn’t expecting anyone today.” You smiled sheepishly as Taehyung quirked an eyebrow.

“No—no, it’s cool,” He gestured to Aera, “We were in the area picking up some food and we thought that we’d come say hi.” Aera thrusted a small box towards you.

“Yeah! We bwought some cookies!” Aera says, “Daddy say that pwetty giwls need deli…” Aera paused, scrunching her eyebrows, “delis-eowus cookies,” She confidently smiles, “so Daddy call da-da cookie stow and buy his favowite cookies fow you! He no let me have any and say that he buy some fow me next time, because he want to buy just fow humph—” Taehyung gently cupped his hand over his daughter’s lips, chuckling nervously to himself.

“Hahahaha, oh Aera, you’re so funny!” Taehyung coughed out, his cheeks turning slightly pink, “Kids…” He trails off giving you a boyish grin. Releasing his hand from his daughter’s mouth, Aera seemed to have forgotten what she was talking about as she squealed seeing Mochi. Bouncing her way towards the sleeping puppy, you turned your attention back to Taehyung.

“That’s really sweet of you guys! You didn’t have to buy me anything, a simple ‘hello’ would have sufficed, or even a text to let me know you were both coming today.” You nudged his arm, spinning around, you gestured him to follow you as you placed the gifted cookies in the small kitchen of your studio.

Taehyung shrugged, “We figured you’d be too busy for a text, so we kinda dropped by as a surprise…” Smiling you opened the box of cookies, taking three out and putting them on a plate that you keep in the cupboards. “She hasn’t stopped talking about you since last Saturday.” He confessed.

Smiling up at the handsome man, you place the cookies in front of the two of you, “That’s so cute!” You gushed, pushing the plate towards him; he happily accepts a cookie, taking a bite. Walking over to Aera and Mochi, you handed her the small plate with the cookie on it. Luckily Mochi didn’t notice that there was food on the plate and Aera quickly took the sweet treat and popped half of it in her mouth.

“Were we interrupting? We could—”

“Oh! No—” You started, seeing worry flash through Taehyung’s eyes, “No—don’t worry about it! I’m almost done anyways.” Taehyung visibly sighed a breath of relief as he peered around your studio.

“Your paintings are really good.” He observed staring at your almost finished canvas and your other completed works that were hung up around the room.

“Thanks, they really don’t take much time for me, I guess I’m one of the lucky few that were able to get somewhere with their hobby.” You shrugged staring at Taehyung.

“You really are talented,” He turns around to face you, “What else do you do? I know you said this is basically your job… But you seem like the type to have a lot of things going on?” You laughed.

Funny that you both have been getting to know each other during the week, but you had never asked what he did. Your conversations would always end up with work stories, but you both never really spoke about what you both truly do.

“You’re a gifted observer,” You teased, “Other than holding a bunch of different art classes, I work part-time at the hospital.” Taehyung’s eyebrows raised.

“What do you do in the hospital?”

“Anesthesiologist Assistant.” You smiled; Taehyung’s eyes grew wider before showcasing an impressive grin.

“Huh,” He smirked, “You’re quite the character huh, but don’t take this the wrong way,” He trailed, “but aren’t you quite young?” You giggled to yourself.

“I get that a lot,” You start before washing the paint brushes that were on your counter, “I actually graduated high school and university fairly early. I was turning 16 when I finished high school, took my MCAT at 18, got my undergrad at 20, and settled for an assistant rather than an actual MD, but still had to go through the same process.” You finished looking up at Taehyung. He held an impressed expression the whole time and smiled at your back story.

“That’s actually insane,” He chuckled, “You make me sound less successful than you!” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“OH—please don’t compare yourself to me! It really is nothing.” You blushed, now drying your paintbrushes.

“Intelligent, talented, beautiful, and humble?” Taehyung questioned, “You really are a man’s dream, Y/n.”

You blushed profusely, “Oh please, look at yourself Mr. Kim.” You teased, “What is it that you do by the way? Seems only fair that you tell me about yourself since I just told you my life’s story!”

Taehyung’s laughter boomed throughout your studio, “I’m actually the CEO of Gucci Korea.” It was your turn to gasp.

“Gucci—” You choked, “CEO…? Korea?!” You stuttered, feeling intimidated.

Taehyung chuckled, “Yes, CEO of Gucci Korea.”

“But? You’re so young!” You sputtered out.

“Ah, Ms. Y/n, you can’t possibly think that you were the only child prodigy, did you?” He teased, but before you could voice out an apology, he continued, “Much like you, I graduated at a young age as well!”

You were in awe, man’s was smart, handsome, and freaking humble?? Where has he been all your life.

“I’m 25 by the way.” He winked before going over to get Aera who seemed to have fallen asleep next to Mochi. Smiling at the two, you watched as he lifted her into his arms and walked back towards you.

“I’m really sorry to cut this short—I’m needed back at the office—but hopefully we’ll have more time to get to know each other more, in person at least?” He asked with a hopeful smile. Nodding your head, embarrassingly fast, you led them to the door.

“Yes—I mean, yeah—sure! I’d love that.” You sputtered, “Thank you for dropping by… and for these amazing cookies.” You gestured behind you to the opened cookie box on your kitchen island.

“Of course, it was our pleasure.” Taehyung winked, causing you to blush again, “We’ll see you on Saturday? For the painting lessons?”

You nodded, “Of course, see you then, Taehyung!” You watched as the man headed out of your studio and you shut the door. Catching your breath, you couldn’t help but smile. Was he flirting with you? Or was he just being nice?

“Mi-ha!” You called while greeting the parents, yet again, this beautiful Saturday. Smiling and waving, you held small chat with some of the parents as their kids ran past you and to Mi-ha.

“Don’t worry, I got them!”

You sighed in relief, a smile returning to your face as you continued to greet the parents. As you watched each child enter, along with their parents, you failed to see the familiar tall man that had captured your attention with the few interactions you had with him and his adorable little girl. You couldn’t help but briefly look around the parents in front of you as you greeted them, in hopes to find the boxy grin that had been haunting your mind as of late, only to be disappointed with the bright blue sky outside the door. Sighing, you watched the last parent leave, walking them out the door, you peered around one last time in hopes to find the little girl and her father. To your dismay, your eyes were greeted with an empty street and nothing but cool air kissing your face. Frowning, you headed back inside your studio; Mi-ha already starting the class for you while the kids waited. You sat down on your bench, watching Mi-ha take over the class for today, since you two alternated each Saturday.

You couldn’t help but feel disappointed, you had just seen them a few days ago, but when Taehyung had said he’d be seeing you Saturday—and he did state Aera has been talking about you nonstop—you had hoped they’d be the very first people to be at your studio door… Yet you haven’t seen them; no boxy smiles and no text messages either, you’d think that Taehyung would have texted you to let you know that they were going to be late or maybe that Aera—or himself—have changed their minds in coming; you were hoping to have at least a head’s up so that you didn’t get your hopes up.

Why were you even concerned? Dang it, Y/n, you encounter the family and received cookies from them once, and you’re hung up on seeing both of them. Maybe they were just too polite to decline your offer, after all, Taehyung is a busy man; He’s running Korea’s biggest fashion line and he’s a father. Maybe he’s still with Aera’s mother, but you never recalled seeing a ring, or him speaking of her… But maybe that was it, had you overstepped a line with flirting? But he was flirting too? Wasn’t he?

The frown etched onto your face deepened, while you thought about all the possibilities as to why you hadn’t heard from Taehyung today. Biting your lip, you got off your chair and headed over to the little girls and boys that were happily painting away on their canvas’. Faking a smile, you crouched down to each individual and complimented their art works, earning massive grins from the children. Your heart still tightening as you gazed at the door from time to time, in hopes you’d hear a knock, but it never came.

“Y/n?” You heard Mi-ha’s voice. You peered up at her with a small smile, brushing off your pants, you stood up beside her.

“What’s up?”

“I think the parents are here, Yoon-ji and I can clean up here, you okay to get her cookies?” You looked at the clock—Oh wow, has it really been 2 hours?­­—you nodded shaking your head. Time really flew today.

“Yeah, sure! I’ll bring them over! I’ll see you guys at your apartment!” Shrugging off your apron, you smiled at the kids, waving goodbyes to hear little voices of “bye Ms. Y/n!” as you opened the door to let parents in. Peering down at your phone you see unopened messages from non-other than the man you had hoped to see today. Reluctantly you opened it.

11:10am 09.04.21 Taehyung☺: I’m so sorry, Y/n, Aera really wanted to attend today, but I had forgotten that Aera and I had breakfast with her mother today at the same time ):

11:11am 09.04.21 Taehyung☺: I was going to text you earlier, but we were in a rush and I completely forgot to tell you.

11:11am 09.04.21 Taehyung☺: I’m really sorry… Next week??

11:13am 09.04.21 Taehyung☺: You’re probably still with the kids… Text me when you get these? Aera and I would really love to make it up to you.

Frowning at the texts, you opt to locking your phone and sliding it back into your pocket.

You knew that there was a possibility that Taehyung was probably married; he has a kid. You probably shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up with him, seeing as you had literally just met that guy—despite you texting. But anyone with eyes could fall easily for a successful and humbled CEO such as himself. You were scolding yourself for falling for his boxy smile and his kindness so quickly, that you felt as if you were a teenager falling in love.

Walking towards the cookie place that Mi-ha had ordered Yoon-ji’s birthday treats, you were gazing at all the couples that were roaming the streets. Letting out a sad sigh, you continued your way. Your heart still feeling the aches of being let down by the guy that you potentially began liking… Maybe liking, you weren’t exactly sure what it was, but you knew that this man was on your mind. Constantly.

The sign of the dessert place is now in your line of vision, so you picked up your pace in hopes to forget the numbness you were feeling in your heart. Goodness, this wasn’t even a date, it’s not like you were stood up.

Upon entering the little store, the workers smiled and waved as you accepted the order for your best friend. Walking out, you couldn’t help but deflate. As if this man is consuming your thoughts the way he has. You’ve met over a week ago, and yet he’s running through your mind like clockwork. Not just him, but sweet Aera… You couldn’t help but fall in love with the sweet little girl; the cutest, most polite 3-year-old you had ever met, besides Yoon-ji, but nonetheless, you enjoyed the little girls presence just as much as you enjoyed her father’s.

Shaking your head from your thoughts, you headed towards your apartment. Times like these is when you’re grateful that your best friend and Namjoon have decided to stay in their apartment complex down the hall from yours. Of course, eventually the family of three will move out, but as of right now, it was nice to have them so close to you… Especially seeing as you’re still a bachelorette.

As you walked towards Mi-ha’s apartment complex, you could hear many people talking and socializing, unsure of who is all invited, your heartrate picked up slightly at the thought of finally meeting Joon’s friends. It has been a long time coming, but it still made you nervous to meet new people. Would they like you? Will they hate you? What if you don’t like them? Your thoughts disappeared as you come face to face with Mi-ha’s apartment door. Apparently, your hand had a mind of its own, your own fist knocking on the door loudly.

Expecting Mi-ha or Joon, you were surprised to be greeted with a man with blue hair with a bunny smile.

“You must be Mi-ha noona’s friend, Y/n!!!” The man states, gesturing you to enter. You bowed with a small smile tugging at your lips to see a group of men and women around your age—maybe slightly older—gathered around Mi-ha’s kitchen.

“Hey, Y/n!” Mi-ha waved you over, standing next to her were 3 other women who looked at you with warm smiles. As you approached, Mi-ha gestured to the women, “Y/n, please meet mine and Joon’s friends! Everyone,” Mi-ha turned towards the men on the couch, “please come introduce yourselves to my best friend from college!”

Feeling heat coming up to engulf your cheeks, you smiled shyly at everyone. As you stood next to Mi-ha, the men from the couches stood next to what you assumed to be their wives or girlfriends.

“You’re Y/n?!” The girl with a long bob squeals, “Mi-ha talks about you so much! I’m so excited to finally meet you! My name is Rae and this is my husband Hoseok,” The couple pulled you into a tight hug, before turning around and gesturing to a little boy who was sitting next to Yoon-ji on the floor in front of the tv, “and that little boy by Yoonie is our son, Mujin!”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Rae and Hoseok!” You smiled at the two.

“Hobi!” Hoseok chuckled, “Please, call me Hobi. Hoseok is way too formal for me!” He finishes wrapping his arm around Rae. Nodding in agreement you smiled.

“It’s so great to finally meet you, Y/n!” A girl with long, blonde-dyed hair smiled at you, “My name is Sarang, and this is my husband Jin!” Gesturing to the blonde-haired man next to her, “We’re the elders of the group, only by a smidge!” She winked, earning a laugh from her husband. Clinging onto Sarang was a little girl and clinging to Jin was a little boy.

“These two are Ji-hoon and Yuna, our 4-year-old twins!” Jin exclaims, picking up the boy.

“Very nice to meet you guys!” You smiled, “Hello Ji-hoon and Yuna!” You waved at the two children who greeted you with claps of their hands and little hello’s.

“Hi, noona, I’m Jungkook!” The blue-haired man smiled at you, “This is my girlfriend Haru, and this is our son, Youngji.” The beautiful girl beside him with dark brown hair, that reached just below her ribcage, was holding a little boy no older than 2 years old.

“Super excited to finally meet you! You’re stunning!” Haru gushes while bouncing the sleeping boy in her arms.

“It’s nice to meet you three! You have a beautiful family!” You say to the couple with a grin, “but you don’t need to call me Noona, Jungkook… You’re older than me!”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, “Huh?”

Nodding, “Yeah, I’m only 22! I think I remember Mi-ha telling me that all of Joon’s friends and their wives/girlfriends range from 23-28!” You quipped with a small smile. Jungkook fist bumped the air and shrieked “I’m finally not the youngest!”, causing everyone to laugh.

Lastly you were engulfed in a hug by two women that had two men trailing behind them.

“Hello Y/n! My name is Seung and this is my husband Yoongi!” The man with a gummy smile waved as he hugged his wife’s waist, “our daughter Nari is here somewhere…” She trails looking around the apartment, “uhm… you’ll meet her later!” Chuckling you smiled.

“Hi!” A girl with straight pink hair waves, while the blonde man behind her gave you a shy smile, “I’m Hyuna, and this is Jimin!” Peering around her, she scrunched her eyebrows together, “I think we lost ours, Chim…” She whispered to the man beside her who frantically looked around the room. Sighing he gestures to the little girl cuddled up against a pillow on the couch.

“She’s so tiny, I can’t see her sometimes,” Jimin chuckled, “our daughter Soomi is 1, so she… kinda likes to just sleep a lot right now.” He chuckles quietly.

“It’s very nice to meet you all!” You smiled at everyone, “Your kids are adorable!”

“Aish,” Namjoon circles around the table to stand behind Mi-ha, “We’re missing one more little family… They should be here—”

“Sorry, we’re late!” A familiar voice echoes throughout the complex, which made you freeze in your spot. Quietly turning around, you face the man that’s been consuming your thoughts every waking hour. He was breathing heavily with his arms wrapped around his daughter who was cradled into her father’s neck, slumped over in his arms. His hair slicked back, unlike the mess of curls they were a few days ago. His eyes locked on yours with his mouth slightly agape.

“Here he is!” Joon cheered, clasping his hand around the man’s shoulder, “Y/n, this is Taehyung and Aera!”

To say you were surprised was an understatement. What were the odds that the man that was clouding your every waking thought, would stand before you AND is best friends with your best friend’s husband? That was just too weird…

The fact that your eyes were blown out of your head, along with Taehyung look like a deer in headlights, Aera was the one to break your staring war with Taehyung, when she sleepily turned around in her father’s arms but her eyes immediately widening as soon as she spots you.

“Awnty Y/n!” Aera struggles against Taehyung’s hold, dropping down from his arms and running towards you and clasped her little arms around your leg. Gazing down at the little girl, a small smile etched its way onto your face, bending down to engulf her in your arms.

“Hey, cutie!” She giggled as your hair brushed against her face, “Missed your face today!” You whispered into her ear, trying hard to cover up the sound of disappointment. The little girl pouted and stared at you.

“I’m sowwy, Daddy fowgot that we go out wit Mommy fow bweakfas,” Aera states sadly, “Daddy say he text you.”

You nodded, “Yeah, he did. I’ve—” you paused as you noticed from the corner of your eyes that Taehyung perked up, probably wondering why you hadn’t texted back if you got his messages, “I was super busy today.” You finished.

“Okay wait—” Mi-ha interrupted as you stood up from hugging Aera, “Y/n, you’ve met Taehyung and Aera?”

Nodding sheepishly, Mi-ha put two and two together and her eyes widened.

“Y/n and I met in the park a few weeks back.” You heard Taehyung say. The rest of the group giggled and chuckled.

“What a small world.” Namjoon laughed. Feeling awkward—along with feeling Taehyung’s eyes on you the entire time—you decided to gesture to Yoon-ji.

“Well—it’s someone’s birthday!” You turned away and picked up Yoon-ji from the living room, “Let’s blow out some candles and eat some cake!”

══════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ══════

“It was actually really funny,” Hyuna giggled, “Chim and I weren’t friends at all! He was that cool jock guy in college, and I was just admiring him from afar. He was also so mean too!” You giggled along with the girls, as Hyuna continued her story about how her and Jimin ended up together.

“—low and behold, we went to the same frat party, hooked up, and I guess Jimin couldn’t help but keep talking to me so… Here we are!”

“That’s actually really cute,” You sighed, looking at Mi-ha, who was eying you wearily. Since she is your best friend, she could tell that your demeanor had changed ever since a handsome dad walked into their apartment.

If it was obvious to anyone, it was especially obvious to Mi-ha, that something was bothering you. You had become a little quieter ever since the father and daughter—that you were hoping to see that same day in your art studio—had joined the party. You were sneaking glances at Aera’s dad while he was manspreading on the couch chit chatting with his best buds. You shouldn’t be feeling this way, you couldn’t like Taehyung in that way. Not only was he a father with an adorable little girl that you very much enjoy being around, but it was clear that the mother is, in fact, still in the picture—despite the fact that he doesn’t wear a wedding band on his ring finger. You know you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up that you possibly found someone that you were so into. You couldn’t possibly like him after the few encounters you’ve had. You’re being ridiculous. What were you? A girl in high school?

“Y/n?”

Snapping out of your trance, you stared at Mi-ha, who was staring at you with worry, “Are you alright?”

Were you?

The man that ultimately had you pining over him was in the same room as you, the same man that had promised to see you today after dropping off cookies at your art studio the week before because he was in the area. How could you be fine? Maybe he was just being nice, you thought. He never gave you a reason to think he was even single. Sure, it seemed like he was flirting—and sure he bought you cookies… But again, he never gave you a reason to think he was remotely interested in you, he was just being nice.

“Never better.” You forced a smile. Mi-ha looked skeptical; she knew you weren’t okay.

“We can talk…” Mi-ha offers, giving you a sympathetic look. You shrugged, you could feel a certain individual’s eyes on you, but you refused to look his way. You weren’t mad per say, but you weren’t exactly feeling the greatest. You didn’t know how you were supposed to act now. How were you expected to react when you literally just found out that the guy you were constantly thinking about was best friends with your friend! Alright, that’s enough. You wanted to hurl, you wanted to scream, just disappear. You were still unsure why you were so hurt by not seeing him today, maybe it was still the fact that he could’ve texted you sooner, or maybe he should’ve stopped giving you mixed signals… Who just casually buys you their favorite cookies and delivers it to you just because he was in the area???

Having enough of feeling like complete ass. You turned to Mi-ha, “I think I’m gonna head out early, I’m not really feeling well.” You gave a small smile to Mi-ha.

“Are you sure? I can drop—”

“No, it’s okay!” You rushed out, “I’ll see you Monday! Thanks for the invite.”

Giving Mi-ha a tight-lipped smile, you turned to the rest of the group, “I’m going to head out now!” A chorus of boos and no’s erupted from the group, Taehyung keeping his eyes trained to the floor, not uttering a word. To say you were even more disappointed was an understatement. You didn’t quite know what you were expecting from him, but you sure as hell wasn’t expecting him to remain quiet or to completely ignore you the whole time. Your heart clenched, yet again, but you shoved the feeling away as the rest of the girls gave you group hugs.

“Please!!! Let’s all hang out! This was so much fun!” Haru exclaims jumping up and down.

“Oh my gosh, yes, yes!!!” Seung exclaims, “Oh, do you mind giving us your number?” Thrusting her phone in your face you giggled, typing in your number, and giving it back.

“It was really great to meet you, Y/n!” Rae smiles warmly, while Hyuna and Sarang nod in agreement, “We hope to see you soon!” The rest of the boys waved at your departure, while Taehyung remained silent, but now was shuffling around the kitchen, pretending as if you were already gone.

Ouch.

Saying your final goodbyes, you attempted to make it out of the door quickly, trying to leave before you could feel the ache in your chest grow heavier with every movement towards the door. Trying to keep your breathing as normal as possible, you felt a little fingers wrap around your pants, gently tugging at you. Squeezing your eyes shut to try and rid yourself from the unnecessary tears that were willing to fall, you peered down to see Aera shyly smiling up at you.

“Bye awnty, Y/n,” As if your heart couldn’t hurt more. “I see you swoon?” Her big eyes that shimmered with hope stared right back at you.

Please, stab my heart some more, Aera, you thought.

Unsure of what to say, you ruffled her hair, “Sure, sweets. Soon.” And with that Aera lets go of your pants running back towards Yoon-ji to continue playing.

Without another glance, you exited the apartment with a shaky breath, and making your way to your own apartment down the hall. Flashes of Taehyung’s face appeared in your mind as you walked towards the end of the hall and to your apartment complex; the way he had smiled at you at the park when you had first met, the way he looked so interested when you were exchanging information in your studio, the cute text messages he would send throughout the day… All of that was now clouded by the way he looked at you with surprise when he had first entered the apartment, the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes from across the room, the way he had his muscular back faced towards you—as if he was deliberately trying to find every excuse not to look at you. You didn’t think that letting down bits of your wall and opening up to someone that had made you happy would’ve backfired on you. Especially when he had been so inviting, so sweet, and so interested… but maybe he truly wasn’t into you that way.

Upon finally stumbling into your apartment, you shut the door quietly. Sliding down the smooth, cold surface of the wooden barricade that divided you from the comfort of your own home to the hallway, the tears flowed down your cheeks; your hands finding a way onto your face as your sobs filled the quiet space of your home, and pieces of your heart breaking for the man that sat with his daughter just down the hall.

Waking up the next morning was dreadful. Absolutely awful.

Your eyes were sealed shut due to the mass amount of crying you had done the night before. You were being pathetic, you knew that. You have no reason to be hung up on this guy when you have a whole life ahead of you. Well… a whole life, you’re only 22. But seeing that you had met all of Mi-ha’s and Namjoon’s friends, you felt as if you were behind. They were only a few years older than you, and they all seemed to have stable jobs—which you have—their own forever homes, and a little family.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you really didn’t feel like going to your studio today, luckily for you though, you had your own little makeshift studio in your apartment. It wasn’t as large, obviously, as your actual studio, but it does the job when you feel like staying at home to get some work done. Sometimes, you find that you get more work done at home than you do in your studio.

You here Mochi padding her way through the hallway and towards your bedroom. Watching as your bedroom door creaked open, you were greeted by the little puppy at the foot of the door, curiously examining around the room to find your eyes. As if the stars in her blue eyes weren’t bright enough, the moment she saw you, you could’ve sworn you saw the galaxy in them. Mochi trotted her way towards the little stairs by your bed, struggling to get up them, she growled in annoyance and plopped down by your side. Your little pup gazes at you with a questioning look, almost as if you ask if you were okay. You had been told before that most animals feel the emotions radiating off their owners, but you hadn’t really believed in that. Until now.

Mochi’s eyes drooped, almost forming a sad expression and nudged her little head against your hand with a tiny whine. If you had thought that you were all cried out from last nights fiasco, you were terribly wrong. As soon as Mochi crawled her way onto your lap to snuggle closer, the tears began to from and roll down your face. Choking out tiny sobs, Mochi continued to snuggle closer in attempts to comfort you.

You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you had cried this hard—let alone over a man. Maybe you were just so used to having such high expectations that the other men that you had dated, or had gone out with, just never had this type of affect on you. You were always used to being let down, anyways. So, what really made Taehyung any different? Why had you gotten your hopes up? Was it his constant texts that had you unknowingly falling for him? Was it Aera who seemed to have idolized you? Was it the kind gesture of buying you cookies that had made you think about a potential future with him? A future where, in a perfect world, Taehyung was your husband and Aera as your step-daughter coming to visit you during your workdays with the same batch of cookies that they had delivered to you on that Wednesday?

But that’s all it is, right? Just wishful thinking, hoping, that the guy that had made you fall in love with his charms, his devilishly handsome good looks, and his kind heart—hoping that he was the one for you, hoping that he was the one to love you unconditionally. But that’s all it was.

Wishful thinking.

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“—so, are you going to tell me what’s going on or…”

Mi-ha had dropped by with Yoon-ji to come check up on you. When she headed towards the studio, but didn’t see any lights on, she knew you were cooped up in your apartment complex. So, it really wasn’t a surprise when she had knocked on your door to see your eyes swollen and red with your hair up in the messiest bun she had ever seen, and a paint brush in your hands. Like the best friend she is, she gave you a sympathetic smile, but didn’t comment—at least not until now.

You had continued painting one of the art pieces that you had began working on. Getting lost in the strokes of your brush to numb the pain in your chest, sniffling here and there, yet no tears had fallen. You were finally all cried out. Nonetheless though, your eyes still stung, as if it were trying to produce some form of waterworks, but you know that you really couldn’t cry anymore. Dabbing your under-eyes and feeling the sting from how raw the skin was from all your continuous rubbing.

“There’s nothing going on.” You croaked, still facing your canvas, and ignoring the presence of your best friend that stood behind your easel with her sleeping toddler in the little bean bag chair that you have in your art room.

“Cut the bullshit,” Mi-ha snaps quietly, “Have you forgotten we’ve been best friends for so long? I know when something’s wrong, what did Taehyung do?”

Pausing your brush strokes, “How did—”

“Please,” Mi-ha comes around to lean against your easel, “anyone with eyes knew something was off between you two. What happened, Y/n?”

So, you told her.

Your first encounter with him at the park, your constant text messaging, how he had dropped by as a surprise. You told her how you were confused, how could you fall for someone so fast? You were choking on sobs again, but still no tears have fallen from your eyes.

You felt pathetic. But bless your best friend as she continued to listen to your confused self, rubbing your back and whispering encouraging words. By the end of your talk, Mi-ha gives you a soft smile.

“Oh, baby…” She says in hushed tones, “You’ve got it bad…”

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tag list: @belladaises @chimmysomemochi @kirbykook @ggukkieland @taeandpuppies @betysotelo18 @maichiverse @rjsmochii @vaekth @hantaev @purelyecstacy @preciouschimine @jenotation @dear-thama @gukkmoans @xpeachesncream @kookingtae @writtenwhalien (my moots, I hope you don't mind the taggg <3)

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➼ next

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - fin

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,800

Warnings: Mutual Masturbation (non explicit), Hallmark Movie Cheesiness 

A/N: I’m am SO sorry it took me months to finish this. Also there’s a tiny bit of sexy times (it’s non explicit and put between two ‘*’ for those who want to skip it) but just a heads up. I can’t remember who said I should name Bucky’s book under pastel skies but thank you ;) I want to thank you all for reading this series, it has been really fun. I’m sad it’s over but hopefully I can add an epilogue and I got several requests for this series so it’s a good bye, not an adieu ♥ 

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

Summer was Bucky’s least favourite season. He despised the heat, the sunburns and mosquitoes, the sweat running down his temples and back. He was always tired, never hungry, and he hated feeling so... bleh.

But most of all, he hated the expectations that came with summer: enjoying the sun, reuniting with friends and family, soaking up the extra hours of daylight, being happy. It felt like an obligation.

Summer with you was Bucky’s favourite season. He loved the way you squinted against the sun, your face bright and happy and your lips glossy with sorbet. He loved those lazy afternoons spent at the pool and he definitely worshiped your summer wardrobe.

You had found a part-time job at a renewed museum. You often said that it was boring and tiring but your colleagues were nice. You were still visiting galleries from time to time but you weren’t actively pursuing a career as a professional artist.

Bucky spent most of his time in his office, finishing up his novel. He was really anxious about it, and he hoped his little surprise wouldn’t blow up in his face. He had everything planned. His uncle had been delighted when Bucky asked if he could use the bookstore for a reading. It would be a private reading, just the two of you after the shop closed.

Now he just had to ask you out...

Bucky climbed the stairs two at a time to your floor, a bouquet of flower in his hand and a smile on his lips. You had invited him over for dinner, which was a bit unusual because you had to work the next morning, but he wasn’t complaining. Far from.

“Bucky,” you giggled sheepishly when you opened the door. He bought you flowers every time he saw you. It didn’t matter that your studio apartment now looked like the back room of a flower shop, he liked the way your eyes softened at the sight of the pretty blooms. “These are stunning.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Takes one to know one, sweetheart.”

You good-naturedly rolled your eyes before you waved him into the room. “Come in, I made dinner.”

Your apartment smelled of marinara sauce and spaghetti boiling in hot water. It was a comforting smell, a smell that reminded him that he wasn’t alone.

You didn’t have a proper table, the apartment was too small for that, so you ate on the breakfast counter. Bucky didn’t mind eating side by side. He liked the way you turned your body to face him, your knee touching his. It felt intimate.

“I have something to tell you,” you said, closing the door behind him. He watched you bounce around the room like some excited puppy dog. “I haven’t told anyone yet.”

His forehead creased into a deep frown. “What is it?”

You pulled something out of your bag and hid it behind your back before you took a step closer to him. You were unable to meet his confused gaze but he found it so endearing that he started smiling.

You handed him a postcard-style flyer with a shaking hand. It was a mini print of one of your paintings along with the logo of a gallery in New York. He turned the card over and read it, his eyes instantly brightening. It was a flyer for an art opening.

“Angel,” he said, his voice full of emotion. “You did it!”

You chuckled bashfully. “It’s a collective exhibition. They gave me half a wall and a corner of the engraving table.” You raised your eyes to his, your bottom lip caught between your teeth in a way that managed to be both shy and sensual. “Will you be there?”

Bucky placed the flyer on the kitchen counter and took a step closer to you. “Will I b-? Of course!” he exclaimed, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. “I’m so happy for you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

“I did nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “It’s all yours and you deserve it.”

With a little laugh, you pulled him into a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around his middle and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. He hugged you against his chest and watched as you played with the lapels of his shirt.

“Do you think,” you started timidly, your eyes glued to his chest. “Do you think I can introduce you as my boyfriend?”

“Oh, my angel,” he chuckled lowly. “You think we’ve waited long enough? Am I allowed to kiss you now? Because let me tell you, sweet angel, I’ve been eager to taste you all summer. Didn’t help that all you ate was ice cream and sorbet. You know I have a sweet tooth.”

“You’re all talk,” you said with a grin before you curled your fingers around the lapels of his shirt and pulled him down to you.

He smiled against your lips and pressed his hand against the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. You shivered when his hand trailed up your side, his fingers grazing your breast over your clothes. You leaned your head back enough to break the kiss and audibly sucked in your breath.

Bucky cupped the side of your face, planting one last kiss on your parted lips. “My girl.”

With a breathy laugh, you let your head fall onto his shoulder and soaked up his warmth, his love, before you took a step back.

Dinner went well, albeit with more sexual tension than you’d both anticipated. He stole several kisses from your tomato sauce-covered lips, praising your cooking skills.

You touched the pendant at your throat and traced the tiny gemstones with the pad of your middle finger.

“It drives me crazy when you do that,” Bucky admitted with a chuckle.

“Really?” you replied, a tentative smile on your lips.

“Mhm mhm.” He nodded and licked the creamy remnant of ice cream off his spoon. “Looks real pretty against your skin. I like seeing you wearing it.”

Watching you smile down at your pendant made his chest burst with protectiveness. You bit your lip but couldn’t hide your smile. He leaned sideways and kissed your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in your ear. “Especially when you’re wearing my necklace and nothing else.”

You tilted your head to look at him. The tension between you became so intense that he could hear you breathing hard, and without thinking he pressed his lips against yours. His hand came up to your face and you took the opportunity to climb into his lap, desperate to touch him.

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt, kissing him roughly. He could taste the ice cream on your lips, your tongue cool against his own. With his arm around your waist and a bit of your help, he hoisted you onto the counter.

The empty bowls, plates and glasses fell to the floor, shattering loudly but you didn’t care. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he gently lowered you down onto the counter.

*

He kissed his way down your throat to the dip between your collarbones where the pendant was. He felt himself harden against you when you stirred against him, moaning. You pulled him down for a kiss and blindly reached for his belt.

“Condom?” you half moaned against his lips.

“Shit.” He sagged heavily against you and buried his face in your neck. “Fuck, shit! I don’t have one. I didn’t think we’d-”

“That’s okay,” you cut him off. “We can either cool down or... get creative.”

With a breathless chuckle, he started to run his hand down the length of your body. “I might have an idea.”

You squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation when his hand slipped between your thighs. Bucky looked at you, paying close attention to your movements and the sounds you made.

Your head thrashed from side to side, your breathing erratic. You gripped the edge of the counter with one hand and slapped the other against his chest, your back arching off the counter as you moaned his name.

He had never seen anything more beautiful than you; lost in your pleasure, brow furrowed, eyes fluttering shut. He almost reached his peak with you, untouched.

You lay there with your mouth open and took a series of short ragged breaths, filling your deprived lungs with air. After a minute, you tried to sit up but your arms were too weak to support you.

You let out a loud, frustrated groan as you tried again. “I think you killed me.” You held out your arms to him. “Help me up.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist and helped you into a sitting position. After another long kiss, you ran your hand over the front of his jeans, smiling wickedly when his breath hitched.

He looked down at your hands as you started unbuckling his belt. He knew you could feel the tension in his stomach, the anticipation.

“You don’t have to-”  

“Shh,” you whispered, kissing his cheek. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

You slipped your fingers under the elastic waistband of his boxers and Bucky hissed. Your fingers were cool against his heated skin but he silenced your apology with a kiss.

He didn’t last long. He couldn’t; not when you were whispering filthy things in his ear, or playing with his earlobe, sucking it gently then biting it harshly. You were all he could feel, all he wanted to feel.

You chuckled softly when his legs buckled under him, your free arm coming around his waist to keep him upright. He slammed his hand down on the counter, grunting like a beast in pain. He moaned your name, repeated it like a prayer as he reached his peak.

With a tired laugh, he slumped forward, exhausted, and kissed your forehead before he drew several long deep breaths. He tucked himself back into his boxers, pulled his jeans up and buckled his belt.

*

“That was...” He didn’t finish his sentence, choosing instead to grab the back of your neck and pull you in for a kiss. You chuckled as you returned his kiss. Bucky drew back and bowed his head, resting his forehead against yours.

“Looks like we won’t do the dishes today,” you said, looking down at the broken ceramics and glass. Bucky followed your line of sight to the broken pates before he burst into laughter, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

The next Thursday, Bucky was getting ready for your art opening. Sam and Natasha had flown from D.C. to see your first show, though you had no idea they were coming. Your sisters and brother were already at the gallery waiting for them.

The street was quiet when Sam, Natasha and Bucky arrived at the gallery. A few people were standing outside, smoking and talking. As they walked up to them, Bucky glanced through the window in hopes of finding you.

It was only seven but the gallery was already busy, packed with people milling around, laughing, drinking, and talking. His ears started ringing and he had to stop to take a deep breath.

“You okay?” Sam asked, concern colouring his brown eyes. Natasha paused too, her hand still clasped in Sam’s. They turned to the crowd then looked at Bucky with sympathetic eyes. He had grown paler and his skin looked shiny with sweat. “Is it too much?”

Bucky couldn’t see you but he knew you were inside. You were waiting for him. He couldn’t miss your first show, he simply couldn’t. He tried one of his breathing exercises, working with this nervous energy instead of letting it consume him. He tightened his grip on the single sunflower he was carrying and straightened his spine.

“I’m good.”

“If you need a minute, we can wait here.”

“You look very sharp, Bucky,” Natasha replied almost immediately, a warm smile on her lips. “She’ll be thrilled to see you.”

Sam wanted Bucky to be comfortable but Natasha understood that it wasn’t going to happen. Bucky needed reassurance; he needed to know that everything would be fine, that you’d be happy to see him.

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, seeking validation in his friends’ eyes. “Yeah, of course. C’mon, let’s go.”

Inside the gallery, they were greeted by a cute twentysomething who gave them a rundown on the gallery and the exhibition. She had more energy than a puppy and spoke incredibly fast. They smiled and nodded politely, though their eyes kept wandering around the main room looking for you.

They managed to quietly escape when another group of people entered the gallery. As Bucky looked around the room, he felt a little overwhelmed. A couple of women were speed walking amongst the guests, an urgency in the way they moved that contradicted with the smiles on their faces.

“Find her and I’ll get us something to drink,” Sam said, raising his voice to make himself heard over the chatter. It really didn’t help Bucky’s anxiety.

Natasha and Bucky made their way through the throng, trying not to bump into people. Natasha waved at someone across the room and Bucky recognized your sisters and their partners. Scott was there too, carrying a half-asleep little girl.

Natasha looked over her shoulder when he didn’t follow her, then smirked knowingly and jerked her head in the direction of the crowd. He’d say hello later, right now he wanted to see you.

The gallery was designed in a u-shape with a patio at the centre. From where he was, he could see the engraving table, the bar and the door that led to the patio. Candles were lit in the patio, climbing roses and jasmine elegantly concealing the cracks in the concrete walls.

And there you were.

You were standing amongst a group of older folks, listening to their stories. The woman next to you exuded confidence and she seemed to enjoy being the centre of attention.  

Seeing you didn’t suddenly make his anxiety disappear, it didn’t make everyone around him vanish into thin air, but he still felt ten times better. It kept him grounded because he knew you were there for him.

A smile spread across Bucky’s lips as he observed you. You were smiling politely at the woman next to you, then let your eyes wander around the room as if you knew someone was watching you. When your eyes finally met, your whole face lit up and you quickly excused yourself.  

“You’re here!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him. He raised his arm, making sure you weren’t crushing the flower, then returned the embrace. “Thank you for coming.”

“I hope you don’t mind, I brought a couple of friends who are die-hard fans of your work,” he said, kissing your temple.

You pulled back slightly. “What? Who?”

“You’ll see,” he replied with a grin before he handed you the flower with a flourish. “A sunflower for my sunshine.”

You rolled your eyes at the corny line but your smile was shy and happy. You carefully tucked the sunflower into the top buttonhole of your blouse, then gave him a kiss. He smiled against your lips, enjoying this moment when it felt like it was just the two of you.

“Hey listen,” you said, your hands framing his face. “I know there are a lot of people here tonight, so if you need to leave or take a break-”

“I know,” he interrupted you, a smile on his lips. “Thank you for always looking out for me.”

“That’s what angels are for.”

He laughed softly and placed a lingering kiss on your forehead before he let you go. He’d been to several events like this one, he knew it was only a matter of time until someone dragged you away. After all, it was a networking event.

“This place is great,” he said. “But I haven’t seen your work yet.” He held out his hand, palm upward, and you bashfully looked at your feet as you took his hand. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

You simultaneously buried your face in his shoulder and smacked his arm, making him laugh. “It’s a sales technique,” you quipped, leading him across the room to where your family was waiting.

“Well, it’s definitely working on me, beautiful.”

“Oh, no! You’re not allowed to buy anything tonight. Your apartment already looks like a museum.”

“The one above my bed is my favorite,” he continued with a grin. A little shiver ran through you at the memory, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. He pulled you closer and whispered in your ear. “Do you remember the night we made it? You and I, naked, covered in paint, making each other feel so fucking good.”

“Bucky,” you whined, trying to wiggle out of his embrace. “I can’t think straight when you say things like that.” He chuckled lowly in your ear. “People are staring at us.”

“Let ‘em. They came to look at art, uh?”

You good-naturedly shook your head at him and rolled your eyes, your expression one of annoyance and amusement. Bucky had become a bit of a flirt since the two of you started dating, and he loved riling you up in public.

You opened your mouth to speak when your eyes darted toward something behind his shoulder. “Nat?” You looked at Bucky, your eyes wide and filled with unshed tears. “You brought Nat!”

“And Sam,” he said with a nod. “They’re a package deal now.”

“Sam’s here too?” you exclaimed.

Bucky watched you powerwalking toward your friends and family. You wrapped your arms around Natasha as tight as you could and she pretended to gasp for air making your siblings smile fondly at the two of you.

“Thanks for not inviting me to your first big gig, doofus,” Natasha said as she pulled back. “You’re lucky your boyfriend had my number.”

“I didn’t want you guys to come all the way here on a Thursday,” you explained. “You all have your lives. I don’t expect you to drop everything to see my art show.”

“We live in D.C., not Mars,” Sam said, appearing with two glasses of champagne. He handed one to Natasha before he greeted you with a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Besides it gave us an excuse to take a few days off work. We’re staying until Sunday.”

You looked away, uncomfortable. “Guys, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Newsflash, it is,” Scott said, having heard your conversation.

“And we’re all incredibly proud of you,” Okoye added.

“You accomplished so much,” Wanda agreed, raising her own glass in a toast. The others raised their glasses high, clinking them together in the air before they drained them dry.

“I’m really glad you’re all here,” you said, sagging a little against Bucky’s chest. He wrapped his arm around you and kept you close. “It means a lot. I love you all.”

One of the interns popped out from behind Bucky, interrupting the little reunion. She walked over to the wall and placed a little red sticker on the label under one of your paintings. She turned around and congratulated you on your first sale, making everyone explode into cheers and applause.

“If you have a moment, the buyer would like to meet you,” she said.

“Oh, yes, of course!”

When you turned to him, Bucky saw the worry colouring your beautiful eyes. He smiled tenderly and cupped your cheek in his palm, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. “Go, it’s your night.”

He pressed his lips to yours before he let you go. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, a nervous habit Bucky had seen you do a lot in the past few months. You touched the pendant around your neck and smiled.

Before you left, you gave Natasha a sharp look –which could only mean one thing, ‘take care of him for me’- and she replied with a firm nod. It made Bucky grin to himself as he gently nudged you toward the intern.

The rest of the evening went by in a blur of soft classical music, loud conversations, and laughter. Bucky spent most of the evening sitting on the patio talking with Sam, Vis, Scott and W’Kabi while the girls were chattering cheerfully next to them.

He preened whenever you introduced him as your boyfriend to gallery owners and art collectors. You mentioned that he was a talented writer, even though it was supposed to be your big night.  

“Are you writing anything at the moment?” someone asked him.

“I have a book coming out soon, hopefully,” he said, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. “But that’s not why I’m here tonight.”

“What is it about?”

“Oh, Bucky’s incredibly secretive,” you answered for him. “He wouldn’t even tell me.”

Bucky tuned out the rest of the conversation and decided to watch you instead. You were too engrossed in their story to notice his intense eyes fixed on you.

He decided that he’d take you to his uncle’s bookshop after the party.

He did a quick mental checklist to see if it was feasible; he had the keys to the bookshop, he knew the alarm code, and the back of the bookshop already had chairs lined up in rows from a previous author reading. The only thing missing was his book but he had a copy at home and Sam owed him a favour anyway.

It was getting late, several people were standing next to the engraving table but the gallery had emptied enough to really look at the paintings on the walls.

It was a beautiful, cosy place when it wasn’t overcrowded with guests.

Your siblings had left about an hour ago. Sam came back from Bucky’s apartment with Bucky’s book hidden under his coat, acting like he was smuggling candies into a movie theatre. They left soon after.

“Hey,” Bucky whispered in your ear as he wrapped his arm around you from behind, tucking you against his chest. You were standing alone in front of your paintings, the distant sound of voices and laughter came from the other side of the gallery. “Everything okay, angel?”

You hummed under your breath and tilted your head back so you could kiss the underside of his jaw. He felt you relax against him.

“They’re closing up soon,” you said. “But I don’t want tonight to end. Can I stay at your place?”

“The answer’s always yes,” he replied, making you laugh. “We have to make a quick stop somewhere first.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see.” A minute passed before you turned and wrapped your arms tightly around him, squeezing hard enough to make the air whoosh from his lungs. He let out a surprised laugh and held you close to his chest. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. “It was a really good night. I think I’m feeling a little emotional.” You pulled your head back to look at him. “Thank you for asking Sam and Nat to come. I really needed that.”

“That’s what good boyfriends do,” he said with a grin.

You laughed. “I love you.”

Your blunt admission made him blink. Hard. The words had left your lips so easily that the weight of their meaning hit him like a lightning bolt. He stood there frozen, unable to move, unable to speak.

You laughed softly. “Earlier tonight I was upset that my mom and Pietro couldn’t be here. It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life and I wanted to cry. But then I saw you and I knew everything would be all right. I know we’ve only been dating for a couple of months but we’re known each other for almost a year and... I’ve loved you since you took me to that charity event at the Museum of Natural History.”

“Angel,” he said in a choked voice. He pressed his lips together, then tried to say your name.

“It’s okay,” you said, cupping his face. “You don’t have to say it back. I know you love me. You have the most expressive eyes I’ve ever seen. You can’t hide anything.” He laughed, the sound raspy and wet. “No one has ever looked at me like this before.”

“You’re-” he paused and swallowed the lump in his throat. “You’re everything to me, y’know that?”

“I know,” you said, smiling tenderly at him.

His book felt heavy in his pocket, a reminder of all the things he wanted to tell you. He smoothed his hand over his pocket and looked over his shoulder but the remaining guests were too engrossed in their own conversations to pay attention to you.

“Come with me,” he said, holding out his hand.

You placed your hand in his and let him lead you out of the gallery. You both stepped out into the street laughing and feeling lighter than air. Bucky hailed a cab, opened the door for you and climbed in.

He gave the driver the address and settled back into his seat, his attention on you. You looked at him with incredulity mixed with amused curiosity. He leaned closer to you and rubbed his nose against yours, making you laugh.

When the cab stopped, Bucky looked out the window, surprised to see that they had already arrived. You let out an incredulous chuckle next to him, probably realizing that you’d spent most of the ride kissing.

“A bookstore?” you asked, watching Bucky walk over to the crisscrossed metal security gates. “Well, too bad it’s closed. Then again it’s almost midnight.”

“That’s not a problem.”

The gates made a loud screeching noise as Bucky opened the store. He punched in the security code and waited until the light turned green to turn on the lights. You slowly walked into the bookstore, a dubious look on your face.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?”

“Technically, no,” Bucky replied with a cringe. “But I have the keys, don’t I?” You levelled an assessing gaze on him. “It’s my uncle’s bookstore,” he finally relented. “He gave me a key for emergencies, and sweetheart, that’s one hell of an emergency.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re smooth, Barnes, but I’m not spending the night in jail.”

He laughed. “You’re no fun, angel.” When you didn’t seem convinced, he added, “We’re good, promise.”

You raised your eyebrows and puckered your lips into a doubtful grimace as you began browsing through the shelves. Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out his book, cradling it protectively against his side.

“I bet you used to work here,” you said, your back turned to him and your head tilted to one side as you read the titles.

“You’re right.” He glanced down at the book in his hand and traced his thumb along the gold lettering. “I worked here with Steve. We were saving up money to go to Nepal.”

You paused and looked over your shoulder at him. “To climb Mount Everest?”

Bucky made an affirmative sound but he was took busy looking at the book in his hand to notice that a worried look had crossed your face. You walked to him and touched his cheek, trying to coax his eyes back to yours.

“I’d go through all of this again,” he said, blue eyes boring into yours. “Just to spend a minute with you.”

“Don’t say things like that,” you whispered, hiding your flustered face in the crook of his neck. He tilted his head to kiss your crown. “Are you going to tell me why we’re here?”

He took a deep breath and you slowly pulled back from him. “We’re here, angel, because... well because I’m an idiot who can’t express his feelings, at least not out loud and definitely not in an intelligible way. I thought I’d sit down and write it down but it got away from me.”

He raised the book in his hand as if proving his point and let out a derisive snort. You cocked your head, trying to understand.

“I called it ‘Under Pastel Skies’ because that’s what you remind me of,” he said, looking down at the cover. “Clear, cotton candy skies. Bright and colourful, soft and beautiful, and with that ethereal golden hue that makes you believe in Heaven.”

“Bucky,” you tried, your voice coming out thin.

“Will you come with me, please?” He offered you his arm and you looped your hand around the crook of his elbow. You didn’t try to take the book from him and you were oddly silent next to him. He sneaked a glance at you but he couldn’t make out the expression on your face.

He led you into the backroom, where several rows of chairs had been set up in front of a lectern, and walked you down the central aisle.

“You want me to take a seat?” you asked, glancing around the room.

“Please,” he whispered and pressed his lips against your forehead.

You sat down willingly, though you kept wringing your hands. For a brief moment, Bucky wondered if he hadn’t made a terrible mistake. He had no idea how you were going to react to his book, and it hadn’t really hit him until now that his book was filled with extremely personal information.

He never mentioned your name, your siblings or your mother, but he did share more than he had intended. With his heart in his throat, he forced himself to walk over to the lectern.

“Thank you all for coming today,” he tried to joke but his anxiety made him stutter. “I see that we have a full house tonight.”

He briefly glanced up at you, sitting all alone in that big room, then looked down at his book.

“Mmh, so,” he cleared his throat, “usually when you speak in front of a large audience, or an important audience, they tell you to start with an anecdote. It’s supposed to put everyone at ease, it’s supposed to break the ice, but I, uh, I think we know each other quite well.”

Bucky became acutely aware of the beads of sweat running down his armpit, sending an uncomfortable chill through his spine. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and cursed when the book immediately closed itself.

“I’m,” he let out a small laugh, “I’m sorry, this is what happens when you only have one hand.” It took a few tries to open the book again. His fingers were trembling so much. “I’m a little nervous,” he acknowledged with a cringe. “Here we go!”

My name is Bucky. I have been writing for years and my faithful readers know me as Grant Thomas, a sarcastic and witty writer who makes fun of his own struggles, but in real life, I’m just Bucky. According to my friend, I’m a sourpuss, a fun killer, and I guess that’s fair. I’m not as charismatic as I used to be.

Meeting new people can be a scary thing, especially when you’re a one-armed brooding machine. I carry a lot of emotional baggage. Sometimes it feels like everywhere I go I have a backpack strapped to my chest, filled with notebooks containing undisclosed information about me.

I met my angel at a bar. She was wearing a tight orange-red dress, her lips the color of blood; she looked like she was about to sell her soul to the Devil. I was the Devil. And I knew I had to leave before I could taint her with my darkness.

I saw her outside the bar while I was hailing a cab. I don’t know if she followed me or if she wanted to leave but I was drawn to her. Her shoes didn’t match her dress. She was wearing an expensive-looking dress but her shoes were old and scuffed, most certainly loved, and spattered with flecks of orange and blue paint.

It dawned on me that blue and orange have nothing in common but they do look good together. I shared a cab with her that night.

Bucky turned the pages until he found the chapter he’d been looking for. He didn’t look up, too afraid of your reaction. He continued.

The first holiday we spent together was Liss, our made-up holiday around Christmas time. Liss is an old English word, it means comfort, happiness. I remember feeling particularly happy. I had opened up to her. I felt close to her. I told her things I’d never told anyone, not even in my books, not even to my best friends, the men who’d saved my life.

Everything is so natural with her, so easy. She challenges me and I like to think I challenge her too. She makes me feel at peace, she understands me. She’s my friend, my companion, my soulmate.

And as I sat on my apartment floor, covered in tinsel, laughing so hard my cheeks hurt, I realized I was falling in love with her.

At first I struggled against this feeling. In all honesty, I’m not a model of emotional stability. I have a compulsive need to clean when I’m stressed, I label things and put them into boxes instead of dealing with my problems, and I simultaneously crave and loathe the comfort of my everyday life.

As someone once pointed out, I’m not boyfriend material.

It doesn’t matter if the person you love is a friend, a family member or your partner; when you love someone, the last thing you want is to smother them with your darkness. I’m lucky enough to have friends who never gave up on me.

Bucky quickly flipped over the pages until he found what he’d been looking for. He knew you were there and he knew you were watching him but he couldn’t meet your eyes. He lowered his head, his heart hammering in his chest.

My angel is nothing if not strong. She cares so deeply for the people she loves that she puts their needs before her own. It breaks my heart to know that she gave up, not only her dreams, but also her comfort and independence.

Sometimes I watch her from the living room while she paints, her brush strokes quick and confident, or slow and delicate. She is talented; entire worlds spring into life under her fingers.

I love the way she squints at the canvas, the tip of her tongue sticking out of her mouth in extreme concentration, a paint brush behind each ear. Her posture is awful and I know I’ll hear her joints crack when she finally stretches. The sigh that comes with it makes me smile.

I won’t go into the details of her artistic journey, but like most artists, she’s plagued with self-doubt. Inspiration, like happiness, is a fickle thing, and sometimes they are tied to one another so intricately that the knot can never be untied.

I gave her a necklace; a gold pendant in the form of a palette. It took me weeks to find the perfect charm, something that would remind her that even if inspiration fails her, she is still an accomplished, talented artist.

She was born with a paint brush in her hand and her skin is dotted with multi-coloured freckles.

I want her to be happy.

Bucky closed his eyes and took a steadying breath as he finished reading these lines. He raised his terrified eyes to yours and words failed him. He could see tears streaming down your face and a little frown between your eyes.

He set the open book upside down and started to move toward you when you pushed yourself off your chair and rushed to him. You buried your face in his chest and he wrapped his arm around you, relief washing through him.

“My love,” he said, now tenderly stroking your hair. You brushed your tears away and sighed. “Is it too much? Do you want me to stop?” He pulled back and met your eyes. “Are you upset? You don’t need to worry, I’ll never publish this book if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You turned your body sideways and touched the book, your other arm still wrapped around his waist. “No, I- I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Do you want me to keep reading?”

“Yes, please,” you said softly.

Bucky chuckled under his breath and pressed his lips to the top of your head. He shuffled the two of you closer to the lectern and cradled you against his chest, kissing your hair, before he turned the book over. You tightened your hold on his waist and played with your pendant.

“I love you,” he said, dipping his head slightly to meet your eyes. The words came so naturally that he realized he wasn’t afraid to share his feelings anymore. You deserved to know you were loved. You reached up to caress his cheek and repeated his words back to him.

The moment I saw her, I knew I had met my soulmate. I don’t mean it in a romantic way, I didn’t fall in love with her at first sight, but despite our brief and awkward first conversation, we clicked. I knew I could trust her.

She knows how to bring me back from the darkest corners of my mind. I am myself with her, flaws and all. She’s patient, kind, and understanding, and the best part is, I know I bring her similar comfort. It’s as if we’ve always known each other, as if we’ve carried each other’s fears in us all our lives, not knowing what it was.

She doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile, but she’s careful. She took care of my scars, a look of intense concentration on her face. I almost blurted out the three words I’m so desperate to say. I love you. But I chickened out, too scared, too insecure. Our first kiss brought tears to my eyes. She held my hand and took me to her studio, and I knew, right there, that I would love her for the rest of my life.

I only ask one thing: let this book live. Crack its spine, fold the corners of the pages, write in it, stain the pages with your tea or coffee or your wine, let it be a coaster, and then give it to someone you love. It will look a bit rough and damaged, like me I guess, but it’ll be worth something to whoever wants it. I can understand the appeal of a well-worn book. When it bears the marks of our everyday lives, reading it feels more personal. So please, do not handle it with care. Hold it close to your heart and let it live its best life.

Bucky let out a long sigh as he closed the book. There was a moment’s silence between you as he cradled your head, his lips resting against your temple. Slowly you untangled yourself from him and reached for the book.

“To my angel, this book is my heart,” you read the epigraph. You turned to him, tears in your eyes, and a wave of panic hit him. “When you said you had an idea for a new book, I asked you if I could be in it,” you said with a little laugh, “Do you remember?”

“I do.” He laughed along with you, then his voice took on a serious tone. “I never intended to publish it, you have to know that, I just wanted you to read it but I was so... I don’t know, so in love with you that I wanted to shout it from the rooftops.”

You looked down at the book and bit your bottom lip to keep from smiling. “I really don’t know what to say.” You raised your eyes to his face. “Can I keep it?”

“Yes, of course. And if there’s anything you don’t feel comfortable with-”

“I’ll let you know,” you replied with a coy smile. “But I want people to know our story. I want to live forever as your angel and maybe, in a hundred years, someone will read this book and they’ll know the love we had for each other was real.”

He hadn’t realized he was crying until you wiped away a tear with a stroke of your thumb, the action so delicate and sweet it made his breath hitch in his throat. He closed his eyes, causing more tears to fall down his cheeks.

“Because after this, Bucky Barnes, you’re stuck with me forever,” you emphasised the last word and Bucky chuckled.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, angel,” he said, claiming your lips in a searing kiss.

- the end

if you’ve enjoyed this story, please consider supporting my work by buying me a Ko-fi

[southernwindsarrow]

Fengqing 20: Reincarnation (for Fengqing Week 2022)

on AO3 as reflecting on us: then, now, and forever

“Watch it, you dumb fuck!”

Feng Xin watched in horror as his cup of coffee spilled all over the man in front of him, leaving a large brown stain on the front of his white shirt.

Fuck. He really wanted that latte. It had cost him ten fucking bucks. 

The man furiously cursed as he tried to wipe the stains away with his slender hands. “Fucking shit, this will have to be dry cleaned,” he grumbled as he gave Feng Xin the most spiteful glare with piercing dark eyes. 

Feng Xin took a step back. He felt a shiver going down his spine at the glower of those dark eyes, and swore that glare could cut glass. The offended man looked like Feng Xin had just murdered his cat. 

What a fucking bitch. He pressed the cup lid down to stop his coffee from spilling more. 

They were standing on the steps of the National Museum, where a weekend pop-up exhibition on rare artifacts and relics of ancient Chinese mythology took place, particularly about Feng Xin’s favorite subject, Gods and Ghosts. 

He'd spent his teens and early twenties buried in Chinese mythology comics and television shows, even spending his first paycheck on Nendoroids of his favorite characters, General Nan Yang and the Crown Prince of Xianle. Fables of the two gods and their courageous deeds had consumed his childhood. But, as time passed, it remained a side passion that he never fully pursued because of academics and his career. Of course, it hadn’t helped that none of his friends were enthusiastic about the same thing.

Last week, his workplace offered him complimentary tickets to the sold-out exhibition, so he took the opportunity to learn more about his long-lost hobby, and he didn't have other plans for the day anyway.

“Fuck, fine. I’ll pay for your fucking dry cleaning.” Feng Xin scowled as he pulled out his leather wallet, ready to fork out some cash. “You don't have to be such a bitch about it,”

“I don’t need your pity,” the angry man snapped before Feng Xin could flip his wallet open, walking past him and into the museum.

“Fucking ass,” Feng Xin grumbled as he tossed the rest of his coffee into the bin and made his way to the designated ticket counter to collect his tickets. 

To Feng Xin’s disbelief, the coffee-stained man with the foul mood was also queuing at the special ticket counters. 

Well, fuck . What were the chances that they both scored complimentary tickets? 

“I’m collecting the complimentary special admission tickets booked under Mu Qing,” the man said to the cheerful lady behind the counter. 

Mu Qing. A bitchy name fit for a bitchy man , Feng Xin thought as he gave his name to the other lady at the next counter.

“Hah! Feng Xin! Appropriate.” Mu Qing scoffed as he walked towards the exhibit.

Feng Xin could only glare daggers at the back of Mu Qing’s skull as he followed behind. 

_____________________________

Mu Qing sighed as he exited the washroom. After getting his ticket, he rushed to the gents by the first exhibit room and tried to wash the coffee stain off, but it lingered like a big brown blotch of baby crap on his chest.

It was his new designer shirt, which he'd gotten after nearly a year on the waiting list, and he'd only worn it once. And it was blatantly apparent that the man with thick brows had no clue what he had ruined.

Work had been brutal that week. After a long week of compiling and filtering through historical journals for a project with a team of archaeologists, he had been looking forward to enjoying the exhibition in solitude . His college alumni association had ties with the museum and had offered him a free pass with special admissions, which he had gladly accepted. But no, his start to the weekend was getting coffee spilled on his designer shirt by a dumb jock instead.

Books on ancient civilizations and myths had been his treasures since he was a child. His mother was a single mother juggling two blue-collared jobs to make ends meet, so while other kids spent their childhoods playing with new toys or learning to ride bicycles, Mu Qing had spent his time reading old and dusty history books on Heaven’s Officials. The set of heavy-bound leather books were the only books on his family's lone bookshelf, which had been in his family for generations. No one in his family knew where the books originated, but his curiosity had led him to his college major and a lifetime fascination with history and mythology.

“I made that coffee stain look like part of your shirt’s design, you know,” Mu Qing heard as he stepped in front of the first display. 

Feng Xin appeared next to him. Mu Qing sighed again. He couldn’t help but think the gods were against him today. 

“Says the person who wears cargo shorts into a museum,” Mu Qing sniped back, cocking a brow. He was not taking fashion advice from this fashion monstrosity. The guy looked like he had just walked out of a nineties fishing magazine. All he needed was a fishing hat and a pocket vest to complete the look.

“Well, they’re comfy, and they’re not stained with coffee,” Feng Xin replied as they made their way to the first display, earning an eye roll from Mu Qing.

The first exhibit was of two well-known objects –  an old black shovel with an intricately carved top handle and a bamboo paper folding fan with three lines running across it. They were the famed Earth Master’s shovel and Wind Master’s fan, respectively, in pristine condition. 

“Wind Master Shi Qingxuan, one of the Four Famous Tales,” Feng Xin read out the sign below the fan. “The young lord who poured wine,” he added casually.

Mu Qing furrowed his eyebrows. “Tsk, undeserving of his title,”

Every history major knew Shi Qingxuan did not ascend as a god on his own. Instead, the proclaimed Wind Master had spent most of his mortal time hiding from the Venerable of Empty Words, a parasitic ghost that fed on the negative thoughts of its host.

Many of its victims resorted to suicide from the extreme anxiety and depression. There were only two exceptions –  prominent scholar He Xuan and the Crown Prince of Xianle. 

As destiny foretold, Shi Qingxuan was fated to be one of its victims. 

Until Shi Wudu intervened.

Shi Wudu, Shi Qingxuan's ascended older brother who bore the title Water Master or Water Tyrant, had seized scholar He Xuan's destiny as a god and bestowed it to Shi Qingxuan to protect his beloved younger brother. As a result, Shi Qingxuan ascended to become the Wind Master with minimal effort and lived the life of a god in luxury at the expense of He Xuan’s luck.

The wronged scholar had held on to his grudge for decades and fought thousands of ghosts and demons for twelve long years in Mount Tong’lu to become one of the most powerful beings of the three realms - a Supreme Ghost called Black Water Sinking Ships.

"Wind Master Shi Qingxuan was innocent," Feng Xin replied, looking at Mu Qing, who had folded his arms across his chest.

"He could have stood up for He Xuan," Mu Qing commented as he approached the display, carefully scrutinizing each elaborately carved root and tree on the shovel's handle, which supposedly belonged to the Earth Master. He Xuan, as a Supreme, had kidnapped Ming Yi, the genuine Earth Master, and used his identity to infiltrate the heavens to seek his revenge. "He Xuan's family and fiancee died in agony as a consequence of Shi Wudu’s selfishness,” he declared indifferently. 

Feng Xin’s eyes widened, taken off guard by Mu Qing’s judgment, “Bro, Shi Wudu was trying to save his baby brother!”

“I am not your bro,” Mu Qing scoffed as he walked through a hallway displaying old chinaware into the following exhibition room. 

“Shi Qingxuan had to choose between his brother and a friend he just learned was a Supreme impersonating the Earth Master,” Feng Xin loudly voiced as he followed behind. “They were best friends in heaven! Where’s your mercy?”

The next exhibit featured two human-sized stone sculptures. One depicted a woman holding a fan in front of her face, but her other arm and a leg were missing, while another showed a headless male. It was Shi Qingxuan in his female form and Shi Wudu. The brothers were often, if not always, worshipped as a male and female pair.

Like the Wind Master’s fan and Earth Master’s shovel, Mu Qing noticed that both statues seem to be in good shape, although missing a few limbs and a head. It appeared their collectors had been caring for them well.

“Are you listening to me?” Feng Xin asked, waving his hand in front of Mu Qing’s face.

“No.” Mu Qing rolled his eyes, wondering why Feng Xin was still around. There were plenty of other exhibits to explore, so he didn’t have to invade Mu Qing’s space. “Shi Wudu didn't deserve any mercy,” he added as he noticed the three lines on Shi Wudu’s statue’s fan, almost identical to Shi Qingxuan’s.

Though fate had been unkind to the two brothers at the start and end of their lives, it paled to the physical anguish and psychological torment He Xuan endured over hundreds of years. While Shi Wudu basked in splendor as the Water Tyrant and Shi Qingxuan frolicked in the mortal and heavenly realms, He Xuan had lost his fiancee and family to suicide, rape, murder, and hunger.

Mu Qing could only imagine the pain the Supreme had endured. Unlike the other gods and ghosts he knew, whose difficulties sprang from their own questionable choices, He Xuan was the only being to suffer as a result of the decisions of others. 

Shi Wudu had been selfish in his way, and Shi Qingxuan was a coward in abetting his brother’s egoistic attitude, he told himself.

-- “Everyone, catch!” A scene of a woman dressed in traditional jade green and white garb throwing gold paper up in the air like confetti flashed through Mu Qing’s mind. 

There was an uproar, then a stern, deep voice said, “Qingxuan, behave.”——

Mu Qing shook his head. What? The scene lasted only a moment, but it felt so real. He must be exhausted. It seemed to be a flashback from a television show about Shi Qingxuan he’d watched as a kid.

“Shi Qingxuan lost an arm and broke a leg after their battle with Black Boat,” Feng Xin interrupted his thoughts as he indicated the Wind Master sculpture. He then moved closer to Mu Qing, pointing at the headless statue, “He Xuan lopped off Shi Qingxuan’s brother’s head!”

“I don’t need a museum guide.” Mu Qing sighed. “And it’s Black Water Sinking Ships.”

"And, in the end, Black Boat never killed Shi Qingxuan anyway, so he must have had some affection towards him," Feng Xin continued, dismissing Mu Qing's remarks. “You don’t give up on a centuries-long grudge unless there were feelings involved,”

“Executed his brother, stripped him of his immortality, broke his arm and leg,” Mu Qing casually replied as he walked to the next exhibit. “Dumped him, a spoilt and formerly rich god, in the slums with no means to survive.

“You’re right. I guess there are some romantic elements to their tragedy,” Mu Qing conceded sarcastically. “I suppose Shi Qingxuan’s life as a crippled beggar in the slums was better than a quick death,”

“You are one sick fuck.” Feng Xin squinted as he pointed a finger at him.

Mu Qing rolled his eyes as he made his way to the next room. “I wasn’t the one who said they have feelings for each other.”

“Yeah, but not when you put it that way,” Feng Xin whined as he trailed behind. “You just ruined the whole thing!”

_____________________________

Feng Xin followed his new barbed-mouth companion to the next exhibit.

They hadn’t gotten off to a good start, but no matter how unpleasant Mu Qing was, it felt nice to finally have someone to talk to about myths and folklore. Unfortunately, as much as his friends tried, they had no interest, and it was hard to watch them pretend to enjoy his stories when it was evident they were bored to death. 

It didn’t seem like Mu Qing was interested in talking to him, but he didn’t seem to mind Feng Xin doing the talking too much. And judging by his comments about Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan, it was clear that the snide stranger was at the very least knowledgeable about the fundamentals of Chinese mythology.

“Why are you following me?” Mu Qing asked as he walked towards a tall, elegant bronze statue of a god holding scrolls in his arms. The sculptured man had a composed expression that emanated scholarly intelligence and brilliance. 

It was a statue of Ling Wen, the infamous literature god, in her male form. Ling Wen had gone by the name Nangong Jie during her mortal days and made a living making shoes. 

The shoemaker was so gifted in writing that the top literature god, Jing Wen, ultimately chose Ling Wen to join his lower court officials, only to assign her menial tasks such as delivering gifts to other gods and wiping tables. 

Frustrated with her role, Ling Wen developed contempt for Jing Wen and sped up his demise by burning some of his temples before ascending to become a full-fledged upper court official herself.

However, because many did not believe a woman could be a scholar, the literature god struggled to gain worshippers, a challenge she easily overcame by taking on a male form when facing the mortal realm.

Although it had been more than a millennium since the story of Ling Wen was first recorded, it was a problem she would still face in the modern world today, Feng Xin thought as he glanced at a faded watercolor painting of Ling Wen. The goddess was painted in her demure female form, hanging on the wall next to the statue. 

“Hasn't your big brain noticed that the exhibition path is one-way? I can’t help it if we’re walking in the same direction,” Feng Xin replied as a shiny object caught his attention. 

An antique long sword with cracks on its blade with the label 'Ming Guang' and the broken fragments of Shi Wudu's fan were displayed next to Ling Wen's statue. 

"Oh, it's the Three Brain Cells!" Feng Xin's eyes gleamed with excitement. He pressed his face into the glass display with the long sword.

He’d always been a fan of weapons, especially ancient Chinese weapons, and seeing the legendary sword, Ming Guang, was almost like a dream come true. Its wielder, General Pei Ming, conquered vast lands before falling prey to his traitorous second-in-command, Rong Guang, in combat. Ironically, his defeat in the war resulted in his ascension, and he eventually became one of the most powerful gods in Chinese mythology. Third in martial might only to the Heavenly Emperor Jun Wu and the Crown Prince Of Xianle. 

Feng Xin’s favorite weapon, however, was the bow. He had been an avid archer during his school days, representing his school in multiple state-level competitions. 

No other sport could give him the sense of gratification archery did. Feeling the tension release as his fingers let go of the bowstring always gave him a swell of satisfaction, and the “thump” as his arrow hit the target was music to his ears. But, regrettably, it was another passion that never took off after he graduated high school.

Mu Qing rolled his eyes, “The Three Tumors,”

Feng Xin rolled his eyes back. “You know, one day you’re gonna roll your eyes so hard they’ll get stuck behind your head.”

In return, he received another savage eye roll, tempting him to press Mu Qing’s eyeballs deeper into their sockets.

“Hasn't happened yet,” Mu Qing muttered as he read the artifact description about the Three Tumors.  

“The Three Tumors of the Heavenly Realm consisted of the literature god Ling Wen, General Ming Guang of the North, and the Water Tyrant Shi Wudu.” 

The corners of Mu Qing’s mouth turned downwards as he continued reading the passage out loud, “They are known for their close camaraderie and friendship in the Heavens. It was known that Ling Wen kept silent upon learning about Shi Wudu’s crime regarding the stealing of He Xuan’s fate and swapping it with his brother.

A scene flashed through Feng Xin’s mind. 

-- “Some wine, Noble Jie?” a deep sultry voice asked an elegant woman in traditional dark robes. They were seated at an elaborate banquet. 

“Later, Ol’ Pei,” she replied with a hint of annoyance. 

Another stern male voice chuckled, “Stop attempting to intoxicate our Noble Jie. We need her alert should General Nan Yang and Xuan Zhen start fighting about their lantern counts again,”--

Huh? What was that? Feng Xin blinked a few times as Mu Qing’s reading brought his mind back to reality. He then brushed it off, assuming it was an oddly intense daydream. 

"Due to their arrogant, boisterous, and abrasive personalities, many heavenly officials were not fond of the Three Tumors but begrudgingly worked with them as the three had immense power and status in the heavens," Mu Qing added, his frown deepening with every word.

Feng Xin could sense Mu Qing’s disdain as he read about General Ming Guang’s conquest of thousands of women over the three realms and chuckled at his reaction. “They sound like a fun bunch,” 

“They sound revolting,” Mu Qing retorted as he tore his eyes away from erotic drawings of General Ming Guang with three women; a human, a ghost, and a god. 

"Yeah, but in a fun way," Feng Xin protested, his gaze drawn to a few ancient scrolls rumored to be from Ling Wen's palace. "You wouldn't recognize fun if it smacked you in the nuts," he added lightly with a teasing smirk. 

“That doesn’t make any sen—“

“Hey, what’s that?” A bronze figure by the edge of the room caught Feng Xin’s attention. 

A bronze ox statue and an antiquated farmer's hat stood side by side in the corner of the room. It was a statue of Rain Master Yushi Huang's loyal ox companion and her fabled Rain Master's hat, which the Crown Prince of Xianle had used in an attempt to stop the drought.

"It was believed that the avid adulterer, General Ming Guang, eventually gave up his philandering ways and settled down in Yushi Country with Rain Master Yushi Huang," Feng Xin read from one of the explanatory plaques. “She was the renowned princess who slit her throat due to General Ming Guang's conduct while their respective nations were at war.”

Mu Qing sneered at his words. “A prolific womanizer such as General Ming Guang didn’t deserve someone as revered as the Rain Master,”  

“That’s what you said about Shi Wudu and Shi Qingxuan.” Feng Xin’s brows drew together as he glanced at the angry Mu Qing. “I’m starting to see a pattern here,”

Mu Qing raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What pattern?”

“The pattern is anti-joy. You are anti-joy.” Feng Xin laughed as Mu Qing gave him the meanest glare before walking ahead. 

_____________________________

Mu Qing hurried to the next room, attempting to shrug off the pesky stranger tailing him, but failed as Feng Xin caught up with him with a few long strides. "Hey, you left me!"

Mu Qing sighed at his failure to deter the other man. “We’re not together.”

Perhaps he should have been more direct in his approach. He’d been rude and snide, hoping the other man would catch his meaning and leave him alone, but it seemed Feng Xin was either too polite or too dumb to notice.

“Nah, we are now. I like your doom and gloom commentaries.” Feng Xin smirked, waving his hands in amazement. “It adds depth to these fairy tales. You’re like Hans Christian fucking Andersen,”

Did the moron equate Chinese mythology to fucking mainstream fairy tales? Hans Christian Andersen? Mu Qing sighed again, probably the hundredth since he met Feng Xin today. Feng Xin was dumb, he concluded. That had to be it.

“Ugh.” Mu Qing ignored him in favor of checking out an odd pair of items featured in the room. 

The main exhibit had a mannequin wearing a gunny sack encased in a glass display, and next to it, a clay mask of an angry demon’s face. 

It was the infamous brocade immortal and the mask of a banished god who became a ghost. 

The fallen god, Yin Yu, has used the brocade immortal in a fit of jealousy and anger to manipulate his Shi-di, the wild and naive but powerful Quan Yizhen, to cause a massacre in the heavens. 

“So, I’m guessing you think Yin Yu didn’t deserve his fate of being banished from the heavens?” Feng Xin asked as he scrutinized the worn-out gunny sack. It looked no different from the gunny sacks he’d seen used to store rice grains in rural villages. “Quan Yizhen wasn’t exactly the easiest shi-di to handle,”

Mu Qing looked at the demon-faced mask with a displeased expression. “Yin Yu was weak. He shouldn't have ascended in the first place. “He wasn’t strong enough to control his emotions. Someone like him shouldn’t have made it past a middle court level god,” he added. 

“The fuck? I’m not saying Quan Yizhen was wrong, but he was a handful!” Feng Xin argued as he walked around the display. “And Yin Yu was only human! His reaction was normal,”

“… Yin Yu was a god.” 

“I know he’s a god. I meant it’s normal for someone to react the way he did,”

“It’s normal for humans to react the way he did.  Yin Yu was a god ,” Mu Qing enunciated as they moved along the relics from Quan Yizhen’s palace, mostly stacks of gold bars of different designs. Although the untamed god was never known for his political standing or intelligence, he gained many followers solely on his martial strength. As a result, he was one of the wealthiest gods in the Heavenly Realm. 

"Imagine dealing with someone like Quan Yizhen," Feng Xin hypothesized before pausing. "But I guess you're not nice enough to wind up with a shi-di like Quan Yizhen in the first place," he looked at Mu Qing with an accusing squint.

“Exactly,” Mu Qing crinkled his nose at the prospect of dealing with a wild child like Quan Yizhen. Yin Yu had been compassionate in adopting the wild boy as his shi-di, but that did not imply he was worthy of ascending. If history were to show anything, being merciful and compassionate was not a prerequisite to being a god. Pei Xiu, one of Pei Ming’s descendants, ascended by winning a war that massacred an entire city. 

Yin Yu struck gold with his calamity and ascension, and that was it. His greatest fault was believing he could be pure of heart when he wasn’t.

If their conversations for the last hour were any indication, his argument was not getting across to Feng Xin. On the contrary, the man seemed to prefer vomiting unfounded hearsay rather than listening to Mu Qing’s facts. 

-- A memory of armoured guardsmen, like the ones in the museum, holding down a young boy with wild curly hair fighting back with a confused expression. “Shi-Xiong!” the boy yelled out. 

Was that Feng Xin among the crowd? --

The scene ended in seconds. Mu Qing shook his head again. Something didn’t feel right, and his chest tightened. Were they hallucinations? What was causing them? Was he sick?

But he pushed aside the pesky feeling in his chest to refute Feng Xin’s ill-informed facts. 

"It doesn't really matter. Quan Yizhen died during the final battle with Jun Wu anyway," Feng Xin said as he gave Mu Qing a know-it-all look. The man was clearly impressed with his inaccurate information.

“Quan Yizhen did not die in that battle,” Mu Qing looked at Feng Xin with a dumbfounded expression. Where did this guy get his information? Black Boat? Three Brain Cells? Quan Yizhen dying?

Mu Qing eyed Feng Xin from head to toe as he wondered what someone like him was doing in a museum in the first place. He looked like a gym rat who had gotten lost and followed the wrong group. A hypothesis that didn't sound too far-fetched at this point.  

Feng Xin scratched his head as he beamed at Mu Qing, “No, no, he did. I’m pretty good at this historical stuff. I saw a video on YouTube.”

“On YouTube?” He raised his eyebrow for what felt like the hundredth time today. Feng Xin was... bragging? 

“Yeah, I enjoy the History Channel and YouTube videos on myths and all. And TikTok. Helps me de-stress after work,” Feng Xin replied casually. “Say, you’re pretty good at this too. How’d you get into it?”

“I majored in ancient civilizations for my undergraduate degree and wrote a thesis on Chinese myths and legends for postgrad,” Mu Qing replied casually.

“Oh, that’s pretty cool,” Feng Xin said before he stopped in his tracks. “Oh.”

Feng Xin wasn’t looking at him anymore. Instead, he looked to his off-the-rack navy blue Nike trainers as if they were the most exciting pair of shoes in the world, but Mu Qing could see his cheeks reddening from the side. It was almost cute. Almost .

“The next one looks interesting.” Mu Qing walked ahead. Feng Xin followed behind him quietly, and Mu Qing could only smirk in satisfaction. Finally, silence.

_____________________________

Feng Xin looked to the ground as he followed a few steps behind Mu Qing into the next room, languishing over the fact that he had boasted about his YouTube-educated ‘expertise’ in Chinese mythology to a history graduate. No wonder Mu Qing kept scoffing at his explanations.

If he could crawl under a rock and hide for a year, he would. It was so. fucking. embarrassing. 

Fucking YouTube. Feng Xin wanted to die.

In contrast to the other exhibits they had explored, the current room was the largest. And unlike the previous ones, the entire room appeared dedicated to one god, the glorious former Crown Prince of Xianle.

He couldn't help but be impressed by the room's artworks and countless artifacts. It filled every corner of the room from left to right and top to bottom. On exhibit were everything from a modest set of white robes to the most exquisite swords and finely carved marble sculptures he'd ever seen.

In the center of the floor was a pile of gold-foil cards arranged neatly in the shape of a palace. A warm spotlight from the ceiling made it sparkle and glimmer from every angle as though it radiated a warm aura.

Mu Qing appeared preoccupied with the many clothes the Crown Prince had worn, particularly one exceedingly ornate garment of white and scarlet with gold accents and a gold mask.

It was the famed attire the Crown Prince donned during the Shangyuan Festival when he leaped from his parade wagon platform to save a boy who had jumped off the city walls, the performance that won him the affection of the common people. 

Feng Xin decided to explore the other side of the room instead, away from Mu Qing, who evidently didn’t want him around. He neared the paintings of the crown prince, dressed in the same Shangyuan Festival costume and gold mask, wielding a sword in one hand and a dainty pink flower in the other, symbolizing “the power to end the world, but with a heart as gentle as a flower.”

According to the plaques, all displayed items were replicas rather than originals. Almost everything about The Crown Prince of Xianle, while he was a human and during his brief moment as a martial god, had been destroyed by worshippers who turned on him when he couldn't save them from the atrocious human face disease and the invasion of Yong’an.

The human face disease had spread like wildfire through the people while the drought intensified, leading to famine, and Yong'an’s army emerged victorious.

Xie Lian, The Crown Prince of Xianle, also known as the God-pleasing Crown Prince, eventually fell from the pinnacle of splendor as heaven's favorite saviour to a scrap-collector god who roamed the mortal realm and became the laughingstock of the three realms for 800 years.

He had ascended for the third time after nearly a millennium of wandering the mortal realm, befriended a formidable Supreme Ghost, and defeated Jun Wu, the Heavenly Emperor. The latter had been the mastermind behind multiple large-scale atrocities in all three realms for over a thousand years.

It was a tale for the ages.

The story of Xie Lian enthralled Feng Xin. He was sick and tired of hearing about heroes who never gave up, strived to be better people, and overcome bigger and tougher supervillains. Hollywood, Disney, and anime were all the same. It was time heroes were given realistic flaws. 

Although a celebrated god, Xie Lian was still very much emotionally human, as he tried to explain to Mu Qing about Yin Yu earlier. Gods were not exempt from feelings like compassion, anguish, grief, frustration, and devastation simply because they ascended. In truth, Gods and humans were very much alike.

The Heavenly Emperor banished Xie Lian from the heavenly realm for intervening in mortal affairs, and almost all gods and worshippers shunned him. His two closest attendants left him, and his parents took their own lives because they believed their only son would be happier without the burden of caring for them.

Understandably, the former Crown Prince attempted suicide. It was a natural reaction, and it was human to do so. Even gods were limited by their human emotions. When humans ascend, they are still human; when they fall, they are still human.

Xie Lian failed.  

He gave up. He wanted to die.

Being an immortal was the only thing that prevented the god from joining his parents in death. But, to Xie Lian’s disappointment, he couldn’t die no matter how hard he tried.

Feng Xin's favorite part of Xie Lian's narrative was not his high splendour, his plummet into banishment, or his resurrection as a powerful god. No, it was a small but pivotal event in his life that changed the course of his life. 

It was a chance encounter with a stranger. 

Death was not an option for Xie Lian, who had been mourning his life as a fallen god, the loss of his companions, and the life of his beloved parents. As a result, he almost became a calamity during his worst hour. 

For days, Xie Lian lay motionless in a crater in the heart of a town, ignored or mocked by pedestrians. His heart filled with darkness and sorrow, and the broken god intended to spread the human face disease to the rest of the world. He wanted others, especially those who had forsaken him, to endure the same suffering.

Ironically, it was at this moment that his life path changed because of an unknown man who bestowed him with a hint of mercy. Not a friend, comrade, foe, or family, but a stranger he met for no more than a few minutes.

A mere stranger who showed him a moment of kindness. A man whose identity was unknown even to the person he helped. A man who did not know that the man before him was a fallen god from the heavens in the appearance of a filthy street beggar. Before leaving, all he did was offer Xie Lian a straw hat to protect him from the rain and wish him well.

A minute of kindness was all it took to stop a god from becoming a calamity.

It was Feng Xin’s favorite story of Xie Lian because it attested that any unexpected thing, stranger, or event in a person’s life could alter their entire destiny.

-- A thin man with tangled long brown hair curled up on a thin beaten-up mattress suddenly flickered through Feng Xin’s mind. The man was curled up, his back to him. 

"My dear child, please eat," a small woman in simple robes sits on the side of the mattress, pleading with the man to take a spoonful from her bowl of purple stew. 

"Go away," the guy snapped back, his voice familiar despite its hoarseness. At that moment, Feng Xin was overwhelmed with a sudden sadness. He wanted to reach out to the man. --

“Hey, dumbass,” Mu Qing’s mocking voice pulled him from his thoughts. With Mu Qing's voice, the feelings of grief vanished. “Come with me,” he gestured to join him up front.

Odd , Feng Xin thought. He’s always had a vivid imagination, but it's never been this intense. Being in the museum must have triggered some long-forgotten daydreams. He tried to shake off the lingering chills as he trails behind the other man.

Mu Qing led them behind a wall of black drapes that appeared to be hiding a small room. It was so subtle that most passersby, if not all, would have missed it.

Because there wasn't much space in the makeshift room, the two were standing shoulder to shoulder. A medium-sized artwork of a person lighted by a faint spotlight hung on a wall. Feng Xin approached it to check it out.

His eyes widened in horror as he realized what he was seeing.

It was an oil painting of a bound and gagged Xie Lian in a decrepit old temple, with tears streaming down his agonized face as hundreds of swords pierced his chest. His garments were a dark crimson, saturated in blood and dripping on the floor to form a little river of red until the edge of its frame. 

Feng Xin couldn’t recognize the scene, and the more he stared at it, the more it made him uneasy. The pain and desperation on Xie Lian’s anguished face looked so real that it was startling. He swore he could hear Xie Lian’s hoarse whispers for help.

"How did you find out about this room?" he asked, seeing that no one else was waiting to enter. The makeshift room was tucked away from the other exhibits.

Mu Qing rolled his eyes, “It’s on the fine print on the back of the special tickets. Didn't you read yours?”

Feng Xin gave him the most affronted look. “Who the fuck reads the back of tickets?” Like any regular person, he only read the date and time. Nobody reads the fine print. Mu Qing was starting to give him serial killer vibes.

“It's called understanding what you're receiving, you dumb fuck,” Mu Qing retorted with a scowl. 

“Anyway, shut up. This narrative of Xie Lian isn't well-known since this is the sole artifact that recounts it," he added as they scrutinize the artwork. “Historians are still debating the authenticity of this piece.”

"What's the story?" Feng Xin asked Mu Qing, noticing their proximity in the little curtained room. From the side, he could see the light freckles sprinkled on Mu Qing's nose in the faint light. They look pretty, Feng Xin thought as he fixated on the little brown dots. He could draw constellations with those freckles. 

Mu Qing turned to him with a complex gaze, pulling his focus away from the mesmerizing spread of freckles to dark eyes fanned by thick lashes instead. "According to older scrolls, Jun Wu presented Xie Lian as a sacrifice to a group of villagers trapped in the temple. Those who stabbed him would be immune to the human face disease.

"Being immortal, he could be stabbed repeatedly in non-vital parts of the body without dying," he explained slowly. “Almost all of them stabbed him willingly, ”

Feng Xin clenched his fists as his sympathy for the mythological god grew a hundredfold. 

He knew that murder was the only way to protect against the human face disease. It was told in many stories about Xie Lian. But this was the first time he'd heard of Xie Lian stabbed endlessly by people who tortured a powerless god for their own needs.

The irony of it sickened him. To be mercilessly stabbed by the common people, the exact people he was attempting to save by gambling his life, the life of his companions and parents, and his immortality. 

It epitomized human selfishness.

Xie Lian had done everything in his power to stop the human face disease, help Yong’an with the drought and famine, lead Xianle in a war, and at the same time, answer prayers from eight thousand temples. Everything he did was for the common people, yet they quickly turned their backs on him at Bai Wuxiang’s words.

Feeling a little brokenhearted over the tale, Feng Xin couldn’t express his jumbled thoughts immediately, but he wanted to know Mu Qing’s. “What do you think about Xie Lian?” 

The stories of Xianle and Xie Lian had a special place in Feng Xin’s heart. He never knew why they profoundly affected him, as if he had lived through them or known the fallen crown prince. As though they were part of his life. Mu Qing couldn't begrudge Xie Lian for what he'd been through, could he?

“His actions were… understandable.” Mu Qing sighed, unexpectedly looking as dejected as he felt.

At Mu Qing’s reply, Feng Xin let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding.

For once, they both agreed.

_____________________________

The next room they visited had more statues and paintings of the Crown Prince of Xianle, in his splendid Shangyuan Festival outfit with a flower in one hand and a sword in the other, and of him in simple white robes. This time, however, the sculptures and paintings were accompanied by a taller man in red with an eyepatch.

Feng Xin was looking at the statue of the tall man with an apprehensive glare, and Mu Qing couldn't blame him. Hua Cheng, the mythical Supreme Ghost, gave him the chills.

“So, is it true that Hua Cheng followed Xie Lian everywhere from the start?” Feng Xin asked, looking unsettled. 

“You’re asking me?” Mu Qing, caught off guard by the question, peered at Feng Xin, puzzled. “Thought you’d have watched a TikTok video on it,” he quipped sarcastically. 

“You’re the professional history person!” Feng Xin retorted. Mu Qing could see his cheeks turning red again, and he couldn't help but smirk. Making Feng Xin fluster was pure entertainment.

“You’re right. I am.”

He read from the explanatory plaque while Feng Xin looked like he was going to combust with embarrassment, “Crimson Rain Sought Flower, also known as Hua Cheng, devoted his entire life to the Crown Prince Xie Lian. 

“According to legends, the Crown Prince had unknowingly saved a young Hua Cheng, who tried to commit suicide by jumping off the city walls during the Shangyuan parade, where he was performing,” he continued.

"It is believed that Hua Cheng died as a soldier in the war for Xianle during their battle against Yong’an, but his soul remained in the mortal realm to stay alongside the Crown Prince."

As much as the Ghost King unnerved him, his devotion to the Xie Lian was admirable. Mu Qing had never dared to hope for someone to love him fiercely for a single minute, let alone for over a thousand years across lifetimes. He had spent most of his life alone. 

He was always alone in everything he did and had long given up on the prospect of finding someone who could truly understand and accept him.

It wasn’t difficult to embrace loneliness when you had no other options.

And yet, it didn’t stop Mu Qing from occasionally wondering how it would be if he had someone by his side. 

“It is also said that in his weaker ghost form, Hua Cheng helped Xie Lian in various ways,” he added as he tore his eyes from the bronze plaque.

“Do you know what he did as a ghost? To help Xie Lian? There’s so many different versions in books and TV,” Feng Xin asked. “I heard he bashed up Xie Lian’s cousin into pulp too.”

Mu Qing turned to find Feng Xin looking at him with sharp eyes boring into him and a serious expression. As though he needed to learn more about the ghost.

“He became a Menace-level ghost fireball that followed him right after the fall of Xianle, 

“And when Xie Lian was stabbed in a temple? Being a tiny ghost, he couldn't do anything about it but watch his god suffer through stab after stab. It frustrated him to the point he evolved into a Savage ghost,” Mu Qing explained slowly with a long exhale. 

“I wonder how these myths came about or who recorded them,” Feng Xin speculated. “The ones about Xie Lian, especially. They’re so… specific,”

“Apparently, it was Hua Cheng himself because he was so proud of Xie Lian. Legends say he sculpted almost all the sculptures and paintings you see here, even this one,” Mu Qing replied as they walked out of the covert room. “He wanted the world to know how strong his lover was.”

“He creeps me out,” Feng Xin said out of the blue. He tucked his hands inside his pockets as he scrunched his nose at a painting of the god and the ghost. “It’s cool that Hua Cheng would live and die for Xie Lian, and I respect him for that, but man, he just really gives me the creeps. Maybe it’s the fucking eyepatch,” he added, echoing Mu Qing’s thoughts.

“Mhm,” Mu Qing agreed with a slight nod,  surprised by Feng Xin’s sentiments about Hua Cheng. Most people he knew adored Hua Cheng as if the ghost were the best person across all three realms. 

He looked at the human-sized statues of Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, side by side. God and Ghost worshipped together. And at the same time, they were a fallen god with his most devoted believer. It was a perplexing, absurd combination, yet no two seemed to fit better together.

“So.. what do you think of Hua Cheng?” Feng Xin asked curiously as he approached behind him, stepping into his personal space again. 

By now, Mu Qing had grown accustomed to Feng Xin’s hovering presence. He began to seem less like a bothersome mosquito and more like a pleasant annoyance. It was like scratching an itchy bug bite. Naturally, he'd rather not be around Feng Xin, but his presence was... tolerable.

“Ugh, must you ask about everything?” Mu Qing rolled his eyes. 

“I’m making conversation!”

“Your conversation is unwanted—“

Suddenly, a raspy man’s voice came from behind them, “Mr. Feng, Mr. Mu, you must be our two guests with special admissions tickets.”

The two nodded in unison, surprised at the sudden appearance of the stranger who seemed to lack a presence of any sort.

The dull-looking man was wearing black from top to toe and a facemask, shrinking his already nonexistent presence. 

“Would you like to have a look at another special collection?” the man asked, his pale face devoid of emotions. He left before the two could respond, as though knowing they would follow. 

Feng Xin and Mu Qing looked at each other questioningly before trailing behind the man through an unmarked black door.

It was a large square room with four large paintings, each hanging on a wall. The paintings were large enough to cover almost the entire wall.

Mu Qing strained his eyes as he stood at the door, trying to make sense of the four oil paintings. They seemed peculiar, mostly beige with brown and black, with a touch of color speckles and some dark lines. His eyes widened, feeling a chill down his spine as he understood he was staring at interwoven limbs.

He took a step back, realizing they were erotic paintings of the infamous ghost and god in positions only non-humans could attain. With a blink, he quickly turned and left, leaving a still-squinting Feng Xin behind. As he stepped out, he heard a booming “WHAT THE FUCK!”

_____________________________

Shortly afterwards, Feng Xin bolted from the room, “My eyes are burning!” He couldn’t believe the scandalous figures he saw. They looked like abstract art initially, but as he worked out the humanoid forms, they could not be unseen. They seared deep into his brain, making him want to gouge his eyes. 

“Oh my god, do you think that weird guy who brought us here is in charge of those—those—abominations? Is that why he looks like he has no soul?” He sobbed and blinked rapidly, attempting to get rid of the pornographic images in his mind. 

He finally squatted, hands holding the side of his head, defeated by his mind. “Fucking hell. Did Hua Cheng paint those too? Fuck. I knew he was a fucking creep. I knew it.”

Mu Qing nodded and couldn’t agree more. Compared to the paintings, the erotic drawings of General Ming Guang and the three ladies from the three realms looked like illustrations from a children’s book. 

As a history major, there were few art pieces he was unfamiliar with, mainly because they were items kept in private collections, away from the eager eyes of museum collectors and researchers. Yet, they were the collections that any history enthusiast would be honored to see. 

He figured the four paintings had been one of those, kept in a private collection for decades until today. The obscene paintings of the God and Ghost were unheard of. He was sure of it, and their collectors did an excellent job keeping them out of the public eye. Erotic images of the Crown Prince of Xianle and the Supreme Ghost Crimson Rain Sought Flower would have made the front pages of National Geographic Magazine if the media caught wind of it.

Mu Qing sighed as he looked at the traumatised Feng Xin, still squatting on the floor with his face in his hands. The paintings should have remained a secret, he thought. Some things were just not meant for others to see. 

They both silently agreed that Hua Cheng was a creepy pervert.

After a few minutes of recollecting themselves, they quickly made their way to the final room, eager to be as far as possible from the paintings.

_____________________________

The final room was dedicated to two Heavenly Martial Gods. It was smaller than the previous rooms, and to their relief, there were no more artifacts of Xie Lian or his Supreme Ghost partner.

In the middle of the room was a tall glass display showcasing a long wooden bow, with a few arrows in a leather quiver with delicate stitching. And next to it stood a domineering yet elegant long sabre with a solid black hilt.

They were the weapons of Xie Lian’s two most trusted attendants, General Nan Yang’s bow and arrows and the sabre of General Xuan Zhen.

The two generals were notorious for their hostility towards one another. Over centuries, countless books and stage plays have told the stories of the legendary animosity between them.

And yet, the two were such equals that neither could gain the upper hand in almost everything they did. They were rivals in every possible way. Their strength, number of worshippers, temples, and territories paralleled each other from the start of their lives as mortals to the end of their lives as martial gods.

General Nan Yang had been Xie Lian's bodyguard since they were both fourteen years old, and General Xuan Zhen, a servant of the same age, had joined them a few years later after Xie Lian recognized his talent for cultivation and invited him to be his attendant so he could cultivate at the same time.

When their Crown Prince soared into prominence, they rose with him into the Heavenly realm as lower court officials, and the two plunged alongside him as he was banished back into the mortal realm.

But as fate would have it, all three went their separate ways. Xie Lian vanished off Heaven’s radar, living a humble existence collecting scraps and performing street acts to survive for 800 years before he ascended again for the third time.

On the other hand, Nan Yang and Xuan Zhen eventually ascended as martial gods on their own and gained territories to protect. Oddly enough, their territories bordered each other, and like them, their worshippers spent much time at the border battling each other.

For 800 years, the two gods had caused near-catastrophic levels of damage to the Heavenly Palace with their explosive fights, usually caused by a snide comment or a rude gesture from either party. Some believed that rumbling thunderstorms in the Southern regions were caused by the two gods engaging in a fierce battle in the Heavens.

Feng Xin stood as close as possible to the wooden bow and quiver of arrows, admiring every single curve of its handle and the gleaming shine on the tip of the arrows. 

“Amazing,” he whispered to himself. Although it was the first time he’d laid eyes on Nan Yang’s iconic weapons, he swore he could feel the texture of the bow in his hands, even from a distance. As if he’d held it to shoot a hundred thousand arrows. As if the bow was made for him and him alone.

He noticed Mu Qing stood beside him, enamored by Xuan Zhen’s sabre. Mu Qing’s dark eyes and thick lashes trailed the pointy tip of the saber’s polished blade down to its black handle. He was so enraptured by the saber that he didn’t notice when Feng Xin tapped lightly on his shoulder.

Feng Xin couldn't help but grin at the sight. Who would have thought that the bad-tempered, sarcastic, sharp-tongued prick would also be a weapon enthusiast? Mu Qing seemed like someone you’d see with a fancy cocktail drink at a swanky fine dining restaurant rather than a sword tournament or sporting game.

_______________________

“Hey, Mu Qing,” Feng Xin’s cheery voice interrupted Mu Qing’s suspicious thoughts. He couldn’t help but feel something was amiss. The sabre was exquisite, yes. But there was also a strange sensation of familiarity he couldn't place as his gaze lingered on it as if he’s seen the sabre before. It left a vexing feeling in his mind. 

He turned to face a grinning Feng Xin, standing a bit too close for comfort, trapping him between the glass display and him. Mu Qing realized they were the same height, allowing him to look straight into Feng Xin’s smiling light brown eyes, which had a golden glint, and his heart skipped at that sight. As irksome as Feng Xin was, Mu Qing couldn't deny the man was attractive with his boyish charm and athletic physique.

“Why are you grinning like an idiot?” he lifted an eyebrow.

Feng Xin gushed, relishing in the light pink blush spreading across Mu Qing’s fair cheekbones under the sprinkle of freckles, “You like weapons, huh?”

“They’re… all right.”

“Just alright? Sure." Feng Xin's smile widened as he turned away and walked towards the clothing display, looking back at Mu Qing. "If you say so," he said, chuckling.

A line of mannequins in different outfits displayed the two generals’ outfits - from the simplest of robes to the most robust armors. Although the clothes of the two generals were not as striking and dazzling as the Crown Prince’s bright colors, they were no less grand and imposing in their simplicity.

“They look heavy as fuck.” Feng Xin held his chin as he scrutinized the animal carving on one of General Nan Yang’s bronze shoulder plates. “You think normal people could wear them to fight?”

“I doubt it,” Mu Qing said as he moved towards the set of silver armor displayed next to it. “No human would be able to move, let alone fight in these.”

“You think Gods exist?” Feng Xin asked. Feng Xin wasn’t a staunch believer in religion, but he’d always believed in a higher power. Life is too precious for it to be just that . At the very least, there had to be some kind of fate or destiny holding everything together. Themes of fate and destiny were what drew him to mythologies of gods and ghosts in the first place.

"Either gods exist, or these armors were built for aesthetic purposes and were misidentified as the work of gods through time." Mu Qing shrugged. Whether religion was real was not a conundrum he concerned himself with. The argument of the true or superior god had already caused enough damage to this world. Mu Qing had better things to do than contribute to a neverending, inconclusive debate that had plagued humanity since the start of organized religion. "Who knows, they're just myths anyway,"

"Hah, some historian you are." Feng Xin chuckled in response to Mu Qing's criticisms.

“Historical facts are not immune to fallacy,” Mu Qing commented as they passed by the line of armored mannequins. “So, Professor Feng Xin of YouTube University, what do you think of the two gods?”

“What! You…” Feng Xin fumbled for words as he tripped on his foot. “Who the fuck majors in history anyway?” he countered fiercely. As much as he loved history, he knew it was not a path he would have chosen in this lifetime or the next. It was too dry and dull a subject, requiring much reading and only reading. Too much reading and no life. It would have killed him.

He had majored in sports anatomy and physiology, a much more wholesome and exciting course. Only someone who did not like having fun, such as Mu Qing, could enjoy studying history. “Anyway, General Nan Yang is miles ahead of Xuan Zhen. Everyone knows that,”

“Ugh, of course someone like you would be a Ju Yang fan.” Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “General Xuan Zhen is obviously the superior one.”

“He only got that nickname because he was doing godly work saving people!” Feng Xin argued, appalled that his new friend would choose a cold and heartless god over the warm and kind General Nan Yang. “Xuan Zhen was so vain he probably just spent his time looking for flaws in his fucking statues.”

“I don't understand how you see that as an insult,” Mu Qing scoffed, unsurprised by Feng Xin’s reactions. From the start, it was evident that Feng Xin was a massive fan of Nan Yang. He appeared to be as stupid as his beloved god. “Have you noticed that none of Nan Yang’s statues look alike? Clearly , Nan Yang was incapable of noticing details. You would trust a god who doesn’t bother to check on the work of his worshippers?”

Feng Xin scowled in disbelief at Mu Qing’s reasoning. “Are you fucking kidding me?” People did not worship gods because they were good at nitpicking flaws. Gods were worshipped for their benevolence and generosity.

The two stood in front of the mythical Generals’ grand armors’ facing each other with defiance in their eyes.

“Nan Yang was a glorified bodyguard who never understood the realities of life. He was a naive rich boy who was as sheltered as Xie Lian,” Mu Qing retorted, challenging Feng Xin’s frown. 

If the stories from Volume 4 of Xianle’s fabled history were genuine, then Nan Yang was partly responsible for Xie Lian’s state of misery after their banishment into the mortal realm. 

The bodyguard had set his crown prince on an exceptionally high pedestal by wholeheartedly believing that Xie Lian would easily ascend for the second time. Consequently, Nan Yang refused to delegate Xie Lian any mundane jobs to encourage him to concentrate on cultivation without distractions. No chores, no cooking, no street performances, nothing . They were duties beneath a crown prince and were all borne by Nan Yang or Xuan Zhen. Occasionally, Xie Lian was allowed to do heavy labor, but it required much persuasion from the crown prince.

As a result, the banished god was only able to cultivate and nothing else.

Xie Lian was under immense pressure to cultivate his way back into the heavens for his honor, his parents, and his attendants. Yet, he was denied the gratification of accomplishing simple tasks. 

Mu Qing couldn't even begin to fathom the suffocation Xie Lian must have felt with the burden of being the sole person who could save them. The crown prince likely felt like he was drowning.

It was basic psychology. 

If Xie Lian felt he had contributed to the family, no matter how modest, it was a sense of achievement. He could have undertaken simple tasks like washing his clothes, cooking for his parents, or working alongside Nan Yang and Xuan Zhen.

It could have restored his confidence and given him a sense of belonging.

But no, he was given only the most significant, arduous, challenging responsibility of ascending again, and everyone expected him to succeed effortlessly.

They believed they were helping him by freeing him of menial duties, but in doing so, they had set him up for failure. Ultimately, it was no surprise that he spiraled into a sense of frustration and despair.

Therefore, Nan Yang played a pivotal role in Xie Lian’s downfall. If he had listened to the crown prince for a moment instead of pushing him to ascend as fast as possible, the path of Xianle's entire history might have been altered.

-- For a moment, Mu Qing thought he saw Feng Xin and a brown-haired man, both extremely furious, by the doors of a trodden-down house, hurling grains of rice at him. And with a blink, he was back in the museum, with Feng Xin yelling at him. --

“At least I have a fucking heart!” Feng Xin retaliated. “Xuan Zhen left! He abandoned Nan Yang and Xie Lian because they were no use to him anymore!” he continued to accuse.

It was common knowledge that General Xuan Zhen had been the first to leave them to aid his near-blind mother. It left a sour taste in General Nan Yang’s mouth, adding many layers to their already complex animosity.

And Feng Xin could empathise with Nan Yang’s resentment towards Xuan Zhen. Where was Xuan Zhen’s loyalty? Xuan Zhen was a servant before Xie Lian noticed him. As a servant, especially one with a criminal father who had been executed, it was nearly impossible to progress beyond the life of a cleaning lackey.

Xie Lian had saved Xuan Zhen from a life of bowing before others and sweeping floors. Everything Xuan Zhen achieved later in life was because of Xie Lian’s kindness.

And yet, Xuan Zhen had returned the crown prince’s deeds by walking away when they needed him most.

“How can you trust a god who would leave you during your most trying times?” Feng Xin demanded as he challenged Mu Qing’s defiant scowl.

-- A flash of Mu Qing in plain traditional robes flashed through Feng Xin’s  mind. He could hear himself yelling, “Just admit you took one of His Highness’ earrings!” Mu Qing trembled and stared at the ground as though terrified of Feng Xin. 

“I didn’t steal it,” Mu Qing said quietly. He was sure if Mu Qing had cat ears, they would have folded back. It made him uncomfortable, and he wanted to soothe the feistiness back into Mu Qing. -- 

Mu Qing’s voice pulled him out of his daydream, and he faced an angry-looking Mu Qing who looked anything but afraid. 

“Xuan Zhen left because he couldn’t stand that Xie Lian refused to help himself!” Mu Qing argued back, infuriating Feng Xin again.

“How could he have stayed and watched his crown prince’s self-destruction?” Mu Qing spat as he prodded Feng Xin in the chest, causing the man to take a step back. “Xie Lian was beyond help. Neither Nan Yang nor Xuan Zhen could help him. What was the use of sticking the fuck around and enabling the crown prince in his self-fulfilling prophecy of self-destruction?”

“It’s called fucking loyalty! But what would a heartless person like you know about loyalty?” Feng Xin mocked.

“Blind loyalty gets you nowhere, you dumb oaf!”

Mu Qing didn't know why or how he could strongly empathise with Xuan Zhen’s feelings. These were not facts he read in books or journals, but he knew they were true. It was what drove General Xuan Zhen to leave his companions. He couldn't explain it, but he knew General Xuan Zhen couldn’t bear to watch his Crown Prince destroy himself. 

“He joined the heavens so he could help Xie Lian and Feng Xin ascend,” he yelled at Feng Xin. Feng Xin? Did he say Feng Xin or Nan Yang? He could feel the heat rising from his cheeks. Feng Xin riled him up like no other, and he didn't know why. The other man did not appear to notice the mistake.

Feng Xin roared, not caring that some passersby were now looking at them, “Xuan Zhen left! He left his crown prince. He abandoned Nan Yang to bear the burden of caring for the crown prince alone.

“Did you know how fucking lonely he felt after you left? To care for the royal family? By himself?” Feng Xin felt his fists clenching as anger fueled him. His thick brows furrowed in anger, glowering at the man in front of him. “After all they had gone through together and all the pain Bai Wu Xiang had caused them, the one person he thought he could rely on was you !”

“Get off your fucking high horse, Feng Xin. Your beloved General Nan Yang left too,” Mu Qing huffed. “Xuan Zhen left to find help and a way to get the crown prince back into heaven.

“And what did Nan Yang do? He left his precious crown prince for a hooker,” he hissed, his red face grimacing. “He ran into the arms of a hooker and sired a ghost child with her!”

“Jian Lan was not a hooker!” Feng Xin snarled, stepping back into Mu Qing’s space. Mu Qing had no right to call Jian Lan in such a disrespectful way. Jian Lan was the only person who listened to Nan Yang while he cared for Xie Lian and the King and Queen alone. 

After Xuan Zhen left, Nan Yang found Jian Lan, a former noblewoman who worked at a brothel after the fall of Xianle. He tried to rescue her with the bit of money he had, but all the bodyguard could afford was an hour of her time. He had poured out all of his frustrations and loneliness to her in that hour, and she had listened .

No one ever listened to him. Xuan Zhen had abandoned them, Xie Lian had his demons to face, and he couldn't expect the King and Queen to lend an ear to his problems. He had been so lonely that all it took for him to fall in love, or what he believed was love at the time, was for someone to listen to him talk.

And one night, Jian Lan initiated a physical relationship with him which he welcomed in his desperation for touch. The next day, she left him. It pained him considerably, but he knew Jian Lan deserved a better life than with someone who couldn't afford to buy her out of a brothel. 

When the kingdom of Xianle had fallen, he felt cracks along his heart, and when Xuan Zhen left, he held on to his breaking heart with both arms as long as he could. By that point, all it took was a little nudge from Jian Lan to shatter it into pieces.

Eight hundred years after he had ascended, he discovered that she had died in childbirth with his child. Cuocuo never made it full term and lacked proper human features, resulting in the child’s deformed looks. The mother and child pair lingered on as ghosts in the mortal realm.

It crushed him.

“She was kind and nice, and she deserved better. She did the best she could,” Feng Xin whispered. A strong pang of sorrow surged through his chest as he imagined Jian Lan alone, as a ghost, looking for their deformed ghost child for centuries.

Loneliness was not a fate he would curse even on his worst enemy. 

He understood the despair of loneliness when Xuan Zhen left.

“He wished Xuan Zhen stayed. I know he did,” he added as he looked into Mu Qing’s eyes with an unfocused gaze as if he were elsewhere instead of in a museum arguing with Mu Qing. “Nan Yang was so lonely after Xuan Zhen left.”

Feng Xin swore he could remember a gentle face so clearly. He didn’t know why, but he did, and it felt right. Their face sharp was fair, and their lips were thin and pink. It reminded him of Mu Qing, except the Mu Qing he remembered had his hair up, held together by a traditional hairpiece, a guan . The Mu Qing in his mind always looked melancholic. 

Mu Qing could only blink as he was taken aback by Feng Xin’s sudden rage and gloom. The heavy tension Feng Xin emanated made him uncomfortable.

He blurted out the first thing that sprang to him, “At least Xuan Zhen could think of a better name than Nan Feng! So fucking inventive of him to combine Nan Yang and…” Feng Xin? Mu Qing paused at the thought. Why would he think it was Feng Xin? 

Oblivious to Mu Qing’s dilemma, Feng Xin shouted back, “Nan Feng wasn't the one that ran back to the Heavenly Capital the moment he found out Hua Cheng was at Mount Yujun with Dianxia!”

“He was getting reinforcements! Did you expect two clones to defeat a Supreme Ghost?” Mu Qing resisted the urge to kick his opponent in the shins. Feng Xin was so. fucking. annoying.

“Hua Cheng wasn't the enemy!”

“No one knew at that time, genius!”

“Well, Xuan Zhen hit Nan Yang in the head and left him to die when the Heavenly Capital was burning down!” Feng Xin fumed, refusing to back down. Instead, he crossed his arms across his chest.

“He was trying to save your sorry ass, you dumb fuck!” Mu Qing, infuriated, shoved Feng Xin, causing him to stumble back, almost crashing into the glass display behind him.

Once Feng Xin got his footing back, he lifted his fists, ready to throw a heavy punch onto Mu Qing’s smug face— 

“Gentlemen,” a pleasant voice interrupted their argument. A tall man in a crimson shirt and a black monocle smiled at them, and small pointy fangs peered from his lips.  

Feng Xin lowered his arms, and Mu Qing took a step back. They turned to the tall newcomer. The man’s arrogant gaze on them was unsettling.

Next to him was a shorter man with long light brown hair and a pleasant smile. The brown-haired man remained silent, allowing his partner to lead to conversation.

“Mr. Feng, Mr. Mu, we hope you’ve enjoyed our collections.” The tall man chuckled. The man spoke with an arrogant drawl. “Not many get to see our private pieces. The ones in designated private rooms are only for our special guests,”

“You're the collectors?" Mu Qing furrowed his eyebrows, surprised to learn that the collectors of such precious relics were two young men no older than him or Feng Xin.

Feng Xin pursed his lips and remained silent, not daring to disrupt a conversation between historians. He would never be again mention his YouTube expertise in a museum or other historical site. Or ever.

“You may call me Hua, and this is my partner, Xie,” the tall man wrapped his arm around the shorter man’s shoulders.

“Our collections... have been in the family for centuries,” Hua added with a bone-chilling smirk. “How about we show you the last piece from our private collections?

“It’s a rare piece you two might appreciate. Considering your heated discussions, you must be big fans of Generals Nan Yang and Xuan Zhen,” he beamed. His companion smiled even wider next to him without saying a word, seemingly jumpy and excited for reasons neither Mu Qing nor Feng Xin could guess.

The four made their way towards another room hidden behind drapes. 

On the wall hung one painting of two gods in red.

Mu Qing's eyes widened, and he held his breath at the sight, while Feng Xin could only stare with his jaw agape.

Generals Nan Yang and Xuan Zhen were looking at each other in the oil painting, while hundreds of warm-colored lanterns floated in the night sky behind them. Nan Yang, in red robes with gold embroidery, smiled brilliantly at Xuan Zhen till his eyes squinted with joy. While Xuan Zhen had a soft gaze as if his said-to-be rival was the only thing in the world in his eyes. 

Happiness was the only word fit to describe it. 

“It’s a rare piece, a portrait of the two generals on their wedding day. You two are the first we’ve invited to view it,” Hua said in a friendly tone while his single eye scrutinised Feng Xin and Mu Qing. “If I may say, the resemblance between the two gods and you two gentlemen is uncanny,”

Feng Xin shifted uncomfortably at the remark and glanced at Mu Qing, whose usually pale expression now had a deep blush.

“It is said that as they lost their worshippers over time, they died together in each other’s arms,” the man chimed while his partner nodded solemnly at his commentary. “A natural phenomenon for gods. Their lives as immortals were only sustained by the beliefs of their worshippers.”

— Feng Xin felt deep anguish seeping through his body as he saw Mu Qing’s red and teary face looking down at him. It felt like a dream. He could feel Mu Qing cupping his face softly with two trembling hands. “Don’t be sad,” he heard himself whisper. “It’ll be fine.” —-

The monocled man’s commentary broke his dream, yet the feelings of sorrow in his chest remained. He turned to face Mu Qing, who appeared to be facing his internal battles. It was apparent that Mu Qing's eyes were brighter from holding back tears.

“General Nan Yang passed first in General Xuan Zhen’s arms. And General Xuan Zhen’s last believer died less than a shichen later, so he took his final breath with his lover’s warm body still embraced in his arms,” Hua added.

-- At those words, Mu Qing felt a sudden pang of sadness as he saw Feng Xin lying in his arms, eyes closed, and chest unmoving. “I’ll be joining you soon,” he heard his hoarse voice say with a forced smile. --

With a blink, Mu Qing could only hold back tears as the vision faded while the sadness lingered in his chest.

“Many believed that they reincarnated together as lovers again in their next life,” the tall man added with a smirk before walking out of the room hand in hand with his partner. “We’ll leave the two of you to enjoy this piece.”

Mu Qing stood in place and continued to fix his gaze on the painting of the two happy gods as a million thoughts raced through his mind, all related to Feng Xin and Nan Yang. He couldn't explain it, but he knew there was more to Feng Xin than met the eye. Had they met in the past? Was he an acquaintance that Mu Qing had forgotten over the years? Did Feng Xin lie? Had they been in college together studying history? Was that why he kept seeing Feng Xin as Nan Yang?

Before he could contemplate more, he heard footsteps approaching him, and Feng Xin softly spoke from behind him, "Mu Qing."

As Mu Qing turned to face him with a complex expression, Feng Xin couldn't fathom the emotions coursing through him. All the jumbled recollections, visions, or whatever they were were confusing. But he knew that, at this moment, he wanted Mu Qing, a haughty stranger he met today, to smile again. To not be sad anymore. 

To let him know that he would always be with him. 

Feng Xin didn't want Mu Qing to leave him again and didn't wish Mu Qing to lose him once more.

There had been enough pain. 

He reached out to Mu Qing’s shoulder as he gazed into dark eyes with a smile, “I’m here.”

Mu Qing’s heart felt full at those simple words. It felt incredulous that a mere stranger could incite such intense emotions, but Feng Xin didn’t feel like a stranger. He never did. Feng Xin was no stranger to Mu Qing since the moment he spilled coffee on him. Feng Xin felt familiar . 

“Let’s… get to know each other,” Feng Xin tightened his grip on Mu Qing’s shoulders, his heart beating faster in anticipation of Mu Qing’s reply. 

Mu Qing, whose face was still red and overwhelmed with emotions, could only nod in agreement. 

Feng Xin lowered his hand from Mu Qing’s shoulder to grasp his hand instead and led him out of the room.

_____________________________

The monocled Hua and the long-haired Xie greeted them with smiles as they exited the room. However, while Xie’s seemed genuine in his beaming expression, Hua’s arrogant smile held more arrogance than sincerity.

“Ah, by the way, gentlemen, did you enjoy my private paintings? Of course, the four big ones are my most prized possessions,” he drawled.

Mu Qing scowled at the reminder, and Feng Xin held back bile down his throat. 

Xie finally spoke, with a pleasant voice, “Dear, which paintings are you talking about?” He looked at his partner with expressive eyes and so much affection it could not be mistaken as anything but love. 

“Oh, just one of the usual Crown Prince’s paintings, Gege,” Hua replied while looking at the other two. “You know they’re all special to me.”

Feng Xin swore he saw a red glint through the monocle. 

“Thank you for showing us your collection. We really appreciate it,” Mu Qing said, still holding on to Feng Xin’s hand. Then, finally, he pulled a smiling Feng Xin with him towards the exit without looking back, eager to leave their two new unconventional acquaintances. 

“And Mr. Mu, that is a wonderful design on your shirt!” Hua yelled out while his partner waved enthusiastically. “Looks like Qi Rong’s crap,” he added once Mu Qing and Feng Xin were out of sight. 

Xie asked his partner, “San Lang, do you think those two have realized it?” 

“Gege, I doubt it. Those two are unbelievably stupid,” Hua Cheng replied. “But don't worry, if they don't soon, I’ll knock their heads together to make them kiss and remember.”

His partner laughed in response, full of glee in his eyes, “Who do you think we’ll get to see next?”

“Tsk, I think it’s Ming Guang, the God of Venereal Diseases, Gege.”

—end—

A/N:

This is my first ever work for a fandom event, and of course, it had to be for FENGQING WEEK 2022 (Thanks, Pammy!)

Big big thanks to Vera and Bae for beta-ing, Zeri for all the support, and everyone else in the FengQing server for the encouragement to keep writing <3

Seriously, I wouldn't have completed it if it wasn't for you guys!

[carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory]

Real Dinosaurs Versus Reel Dinosaurs: Film’s Fictionalization of the Prehistoric World

by Shelby Wyzykowski

What better way can you spend a quiet evening at home than by having a good old-fashioned movie night? You dim the lights, cozily snuggle up on your sofa with a bowl of hot, buttery popcorn, and pick out a movie that you’ve always wanted to see: the 1948 classic Unknown Island. Mindlessly munching away on your snacks, your eyes are glued to the screen as the story unfolds. You reach a key scene in the movie: a towering, T. rex-sized Ceratosaurus and an equally enormous Megatherium ground sloth are locked in mortal combat. And you think to yourself, “I’m pretty sure something like this never actually happened.” And you know what? Your prehistorically inclined instincts are correct.

From the time that the first dinosaur fossils were identified in the early 1800s, society has been fascinated by these “terrible lizards.” When, where, and how did they live? And why did they (except for their modern descendants, birds) die out so suddenly? We’ve always been hungry to find out more about the mysteries behind the dinosaurs’ existence. The public’s hunger for answers was first satisfied by newspapers, books, and scientific journals. But then a whole new, sensational medium was invented: motion pictures. And with its creation came a new, exciting way to explore the primeval world of these ancient creatures. But cinema is art, not science. And from the very beginning, scientific inaccuracies abounded. You might be surprised to learn that these filmic faux pas not only exist in movies from the early days of cinema. They pervade essentially every dinosaur movie that has ever been made.

One Million Years B.C.

Another film that can easily be identified as more fiction than fact is 1966’s One Million Years B.C. It tells the story of conflicts between members of two tribes of cave people as well as their dangerous dealings with a host of hostile dinosaurs (such as Allosaurus, Triceratops, and Ceratosaurus). However, neither modern-looking humans nor dinosaurs (again, except birds) existed one million years ago. In the case of dinosaurs, the movie was about 65 million years too late. Non-avian dinosaurs disappeared 66 million years ago during a mass extinction known as the K/Pg (which stands for “Cretaceous/Paleogene”) event. An asteroid measuring around six miles in diameter and traveling at an estimated speed of ten miles per second slammed into the Earth at what is now the Yucatán Peninsula in Mexico. The effects of this giant impact were so devastating that over 75% of the world’s species became extinct. But the dinosaurs’ misfortunes were a lucky break for Cretaceous Period mammals. They were able to gain a stronger foothold and flourish in the challenging and inhospitable post-impact environment.

Cut to approximately 65 million, 700 thousand years later, when modern-looking humans finally arrived on the chronological scene. Until recently, the oldest known fossils of our species, Homo sapiens, dated back to just 195,000 years ago (which is, in geological terms, akin to the blink of an eye). And for many years, these fossils have been widely accepted to be the oldest members of our species. But this theory was challenged in June of 2017 when paleoanthropologists from the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology reported that they had discovered what they thought may be the oldest known remains of Homo sapiens on a desert hillside at Jebel Irhoud in Morocco. The 315,000-year-old fossils included skull bones that, when pieced together, indicated that these humans had faces that looked very much like ours, but their brains did differ. Being long and low, their brains did not have the distinctively round shape of those of present-day humans. This noticeable difference in brain shape has led some scientists to wonder: perhaps these people were just close relatives of Homo sapiens. On the other hand, maybe they could be near the root of the Homo sapien lineage, a sort of protomodern Homo sapien as opposed to the modern Homo sapien. One thing is for certain, the discovery at Jebel Irhoud reminds us that the story of human evolution is long and complex with many questions that are yet to be answered.

The Land Before Time

Another movie that misplaces its characters in the prehistoric timeline is 1988’s The Land Before Time. The stars of this animated motion picture are Littlefoot the Apatosaurus, Cera the Triceratops, Ducky the Saurolophus, Petrie the Pteranodon, and Spike the Stegosaurus. As their world is ravaged by constant earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, the hungry and scared young dinosaurs make a perilous journey to the lush and green Great Valley where they’ll reunite with their families and never want for food again. In their on-screen imagined story, these five make a great team. But, assuming that the movie is set at the very end of the Cretaceous (intense volcanic activity was a characteristic of this time), the quintet’s trip would have actually been just a solo trek. Ducky and Petrie’s species had become extinct several million years earlier, and Littlefoot and Spike would have lived way back in the Jurassic Period (201– 145 million years ago). Cera alone would have had to experience several harrowing encounters with the movie’s other latest Cretaceous creature, the ferocious and relentless Sharptooth, a Tyrannosaurus rex.

Speaking of Sharptooth, The Land Before Time’s animators made a scientifically accurate choice when they decided to draw him with a two-fingered hand, as opposed to the three fingers traditionally embraced by other movie makers. For 1933’s King Kong, the creators mistakenly modeled their T. rex after a scientifically outdated 1906 museum painting. Many other directors knowingly dismissed the science-backed evidence and used three digits because they thought this type of hand was more aesthetically pleasing. By the 1920s, paleontologists had already hypothesized that these predators were two-fingered because an earlier relative of Tyrannosaurus, Gorgosaurus, was known to have had only two functional digits. Scientists had to make an educated guess because the first T. rex (and many subsequent specimens) to be found had no hands preserved. It wasn’t until 1988 that it was officially confirmed that T. rex was two-fingered when the first specimen with an intact hand was discovered. Then, in 1997, Peck’s Rex, the first T. rex specimen with hands preserving a third metacarpal (hand bone), was unearthed. Paleontologists agree that, in life, the third metacarpal of Peck’s Rex would not have been part of a distinct, externally visible third finger, but instead would have been embedded in the flesh of the rest of the hand. But still, was this third hand segment vestigial, no longer serving any apparent purpose? Or could it have possibly been used as a buttressing structure, helping the two fully formed fingers to withstand forces and stresses on the hand? Peck’s Rex’s bones do display evidence that strongly supports arm use. You can ponder this paleo-puzzle yourself when you visit Carnegie Museum of Natural History’s Dinosaurs in Their Time exhibition, where you can see a life-sized cast of Peck’s Rex facing off with the holotype (= name-bearing) T. rex, which was the first specimen of the species to be recognized (by definition, the world’s first fossil of the world’s most famous dinosaur!).

T. rex in Dinosaurs in Their Time. Image credit: Joshua Franzos, Treehouse Media

Jurassic Park

One motion picture that did take artistic liberties with T. rex for the sake of suspense was 1993’s Jurassic Park. In one memorable, hair-raising scene, several of the movie’s stars are saved from becoming this dinosaur’s savory snack by standing completely still. According to the film’s paleontological protagonist, Dr. Alan Grant, the theropod can’t see humans if they don’t move. Does this theory have any credence, or was it just a clever plot device that made for a great movie moment? In 2006, the results of ongoing research at the University of Oregon were published in the Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology, providing a surprising answer. The study involved using perimetry (an ophthalmic technique used for measuring and assessing visual fields) and a scale model T. rex head to determine the creature’s binocular range (the area that could be viewed at the same time by both eyes). Generally speaking, the wider an animal’s binocular range, the better its depth perception and overall vision. It was determined that the binocular range of T. rex was 55 degrees, which is greater than that of a modern-day hawk! This theropod may have even had visual clarity up to 13 times greater than a person. That’s extremely impressive, considering an eagle only has up to 3.6 times the clarity of a human! Another study that examined the senses of T. rex determined that the dinosaur had unusually large olfactory bulbs (the areas of the brain dedicated to scent) that would have given it the ability to smell as well as a present-day vulture! So, in Jurassic Park, even if the eyes of T. rex had been blurred by the raindrops in this dark and stormy scene, its nose would have still homed-in on Dr. Grant and the others, providing the predator with some tasty midnight treats.

Now, it may seem that this blog post might be a bit critical of dinosaur movies. But, truly, I appreciate them just as much as the next filmophile. They do a magnificent job of providing all of us with some pretty thrilling, edge-of-your-seat entertainment. But, somewhere along the way, their purpose has serendipitously become twofold. They have also inspired some of us to pursue paleontology as a lifelong career. So, in a way, dinosaur movies have been of immense benefit to both the cinematic and scientific worlds. And for that great service, they all deserve a huge round of applause.

Shelby Wyzykowski is a Gallery Experience Presenter in CMNH’s Life Long Learning Department. Museum staff, volunteers, and interns are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

[mikauzoran]

Marigami: Pipe Dream (One-Shot)

@robylovi asked for Marigami. Thanks for the request! ^.^

Summary: Between bouts of gratuitous flirting, Marinette encourages Kagami to fight for her dreams.

Read it on AO3: Marigami: Pipe Dream

“It’s a good thing my mother can’t see. She would have a fit if she walked in right now,” Kagami snickered as she perfected the arch of Marinette’s back with a few soft, thin lines.

A wicked smirk uncurled on Marinette’s lips as she tried not to laugh and accidentally ruin the pose. “Why? Does your mother not believe in art?”

Kagami gave a light snort. “My mother does not believe in naked women lying on my divan.”

“I’m not naked,” Marinette scoffed, doing a good job of sounding offended as she kicked her feet back and forth in the air. “I’m nude. There’s a difference. Nude is respectable.”

Kagami smiled down at her sketchbook, admiring the likeness of the woman she loved. “I bet you’d be respectable naked too. I’d like to see you naked sometime.”

Marinette’s sly smile morphed into a full-fledged grin. “Why, Kagami! Are you flirting with me?”

Kagami shifted on her chair. “I was trying to. Must you make me so self-conscious?”

“Why are you feeling self-conscious?” Marinette laughed. “I’m the one who’s naked.”

“You are nude, I believe,” Kagami retorted sassily. “And you can cease to be so when you choose. I’ve finished.”

“May I see?” Marinette perked up, pushing herself up to sitting before getting to her feet.

“If you wish.” Kagami tipped her sketchbook towards Marinette. “I think it turned out quite well. It’s a decent likeness, at least.”

“Oh my gosh,” Marinette breathed as she gazed upon the sketch of a beautiful young woman lying like a sphinx on her stomach on the divan, her legs up in the air, feet delicately articulated: one flexed while the other pointed up.

The model’s hair fell in rippling pools at her shoulders and trickled down her back, skimming her expertly sculpted shoulder blades.

The arch of her back was graceful, but Marinette feared that Kagami had exaggerated certain other assets to Marinette’s advantage.

“Kagami, this is stunning. This is…” she grasped for the right words. “This should be in a museum. You are phenomenal.”

“I don’t know about that,” Kagami demurred, her cheeks steadily reddening with Marinette’s honest praise.

“You are,” Marinette insisted, taking Kagami’s face in her hands and making her girlfriend meet her gaze. “You’re so gifted, Kagami. You could touch so many people with your art if you decided to pursue it.”

“I…I would like that, but it’s impossible, Marinette,” Kagami sighed, shoulders slumping. “My mother would never—”

“—Your mother doesn’t get to say what you do with your life,” Marinette objected hotly. “Sometimes, you just have to say no to toxic people, Kagami. Sometimes, you just have to say no and pursue the things that bring you joy.”

Kagami gaped, unsure how to respond. “But I can’t—”

“—You can,” Marinette stressed, “and I’ll help you, if that’s what you decide you want. I know you don’t have your own money, but I could support you. We’d have to live with my parents, but I could take on more commissions, and you could find work too. It would be hard, but we could make it work. We could do it, and you’d be free to do what you want to do with your life, not what your mother says you have to do.”

Kagami kept staring at her girlfriend as her thoughts spun like plates.

“So?” Marinette gently pressed, holding her breath for Kagami’s response. “What do you say?”

Kagami swallowed and took a deep breath to steady herself. “I think I need a little more time to consider my options. It might behoove us to wait until we both graduate from university and are better equipped to support ourselves.”

A little bit of the light drained from Marinette’s sparkling eyes as she nodded, respecting Kagami’s decision. “Okay. That’s probably not a bad idea, honestly, but, while you think about it, we should look into some ways you can start furthering your career as an artist right now because, one day, I’m going to steal you away from here and make all of your dreams come true.”

She scooped up Kagami’s hand and pressed a light kiss to the back of it.

Internally, Kagami swooned.

Externally, a small smile peeked out from behind the corner of her mouth, and she replied, “Chat Noir is rubbing off on you.”

Marinette pulled away, groaning. “Noooo. I’m way more suave than Chat Noir.”

Kagami chuckled. “Perhaps. …Go put your clothes on so I can kiss you.”

Marinette burst out laughing but obediently acquiesced anyway. “You’re sure you can’t kiss me now?”

“Positive.” Kagami was unable to remove the smile from her face, even as she shook her head reprovingly.