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#like how a kindergarten teacher feel when their students draw their portrait

27-black-pink · 3 years

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Introduction:

Hi, I am Choi-Ara and I am a person with special needs. I cannot talk, I couldn’t when I was little and I still can’t,I can only write or use sign language. This is how I look like:

My dad loves me to hell and so does my mom.

This is what he looks like:

And This is my mom:

Me and my mom use to talk for hours about all my dolls and all my toys.....,until she got her job and got busy.But she still loves me and I know that for a fact.

The bully:

I got bullied a few times because I could not talk.This is how the bully looks like:Kim-Jisoo

He bullies me because I cannot talk and I cannot tell the teacher, well I can but the teacher does not understand my sign language and it takes me a long time to write, so the teacher does not have time.

music class

In our music class, I have to sit on the corner and read, because I cannot sing.

So it was a fine afternoon,and I was reading as usual, Kim-Jisoo decided to throw an aeroplane on the teacher....... “who did this?”shouted the teacher. “Miss,I think I know who did it.” Jisoo looked over to me.It was obvious that he was going to say it was me. “Yes,Kim-Jisoo who is it?”she was curious. “ I just saw Choi-Ara do it. Look she even has paper on her desk.” He was completely wrong.I don’t even know from where I got that paper. I only had a book to read, then I looked behind me and saw one of Kim-Jisoo friends that were on his gang.They were smiling at me. “What,choi you use to be my best student! How could you?” She was doomed. “Go to the principal’s office right now!” I was crying and I could tell that Jisoo was feeling sorry for me too.

Family friend

After that day, I saw Choi-Soobin, my family friend.Any way,this is how he looks like:

I asked him in sign language that :what are you doing hear and hi? “Well I just moved by and this is my new school.”he said. Then I got a peace of paper because I was to tired of sign language.

“Well who do we have here ,a new child huh.”said Kim-Jisoo. “Who are you?” Asked soobin. “I am the bully ,which you are going to get very often.”he tried to threaten Soobin. “will see about that.” He was still smiling. “Does he bully you.”he asked. I nodded.

Prank gone wrong.

The next day, Soobin and me were talking in sign language,Until Soobin noticed that there was slime and did not tell me.When I opened the door he hugged me and the slime when on him! After I got so mad at Soobin for getting himself dirty for me.Obviously I was mad at Jisoo too but what could I do? I wrote done that :why did you, you are such a ........... . I could not say anything because last time I did it he got really upset and did not talk to me for a whole week.

“ You do not deserve to be pranked or bullied.”he was really kind.I wrote: so what? This is not the first time ok.You don’t need to be worried about me .I am fine. You are in trouble because of me.”I was crying by now(without a noise).

Every day, me and Soobin found mean comments in our lockers.I hated it the most weather Soobin ignored them.One day, we were having lunch and we found cockroaches in our food.Now, I knew that it was Jisoo because he was smiling the whole time. “ It’s ok, I’ll get you another lunch, and talk to somebody.” I had no Idea who he was going to talk to,because he didn’t make any friends yet (except me).So to find out I followed him to the cafeteria,as soon as I saw him come back I ran to where we where sitting,and he bought the lunchs. “I need the toilet ,I’ll just see you in here or in class.”now Soobin was getting suspicious.Then I followed him behind the school, the toilets were not there. Was he meeting up with a girl? Or was he embarrassed of me? Or maybe he didn’t like the lunch? Or is he running away? Random thoughts came to my head,Until I hid away and saw Kim-Jisoo come to him. “Stop doing those stupid pranks, no one likes them!” He was talking calmly. “Who are you stopping me to do them?” Jisoo,was being sarcastic. And then Jisoo was about to punch Soobin when I came on front of him.Kim-Jisoo stopped.“Darn it!”he was furious. “Let’s go Ara.” Soobin held my wrist.

“What’s your problem?” I signed languaged Soobin. “ You are, I can’t just let him bully you like that, I will keep bothering him until he stop to bully us.” Soobin was wrong. “ well that is not gonna work. If you want it to work then you need to make him jealous that you are in a relationship with me, and let him get jealous.”I sign languaged him. “But if this doesn’t work ,then we will do my thing.” Soobin said. I nodded.

The other day, me and Soobin were holding hands and he even tied my shoe laces for me.Kim-Jisoo was confused.Me and Soobin spied on him and his prank was to splash water on me from the top of the window. So me and Soobin ,sat on the chair purposely. When he splashed the water, Soobin go out an umbrella and it worked. “ You look good with an umbrella on your neck and I rested my neck on his shoulder.

Later that day,Kim-Jisoo called me in our class room, I was really scared and was worried. I told Soobin about it. He said that he will hide behind the teacher’s desk and he did .I got a peace of paper out because Kim-Jisoo didn’t know sign language. “You know, I am sorry I bullied you, you are now really special to me. And I think we need to make our relationship a bit further.” He was so nervous. “Will you be my girlfriend?” I was shocked. “I”ll think about it.” I wrote down. And as soon as I wrote that I left the room.

The next day

The next day Soobin was acting weird. He kept distancing me. He smiled sometimes, and at lunch he sat with other people. Jisoo sat with me. “ Hey did you think about it?” I stood up and left the place. I went to the library, that’s where I always go when I am upset. The next part suprised me. Soobin came. “Hey what’s up?” By the time he was here, I was crying. “ don’t cry it’ll be ok , what ever you are crying at.” Then he was rubbing his hands on myback.Kim-Jisoo was here. “What are you doing!?” He was shocked. I got a piece of paper and then wrote: “I never said yes to you, so pls. You are just making things up between us. We are just friends. And Soobin right here has been my best-friend since I was in kindergarten. He knows everything about me. All you know is too bully and I know you asked me that because you wanted my money not love.” I wrote really fast.As soon as he left. Me and Soobin talked about stupid things as usual.

“Hey I don’t think you should be so rude to him.” I didn’t answer.

Kim-Jisoo

Jisoo did not look at me for 2 days until third day I left a peace of paper saying:you now the other day and the question ,my answer is no, I guess there is some one in this class I think is suitable for me.Kim-Jisoo looked at me with anger.He scrumbled the paper and then threw it in the bin.

That didn’t make me upset ,it made me rather happy.Soobin was confused.

At lunch

At lunch Soobin showed pics of his parents when they were young:

Mom then:27 now: 39

Dad age then:28 now: 40:

We were laughing so much. “What is it like to not have a voice?” He asked me. Then I put sandwich down and I sign languaged him.This what I said: It feels like you have so much to give someone but you never get a chance. He was confused. Then this what I said by paper: It just feels stressful,because when ever you want to tell someone what’s inside you no one can listen.If you wanna confess something the’ll say no.

Note from the Author:

Sorry the chapters are so small I don’t know what to write, But there will be a lot at the end . back to were we are.

Art

We had to draw portraits this afternoon and Soobin drew me. He was so good at drawing. I drew him the same way.

This is my portrait:

His portrait:

His was so better than mines (except he made my hair look short, he thinks short hair suits me). “That looks like me”he was suprised.I sign languaged him: well, this is you. Is that me? “ yeah.” We were laughing but Kim-Jisoo was frowning.When I went over to wash my hands he drew himself. Well, I might not like Jisoo but he is really good at art.

This is what he drew:

Well he messed it up from the top. I guess he was trying to make those style portraits but was unsuccessful. I don’t know why Kim-Jisoo was so upset and frowning.Do you know?

The next day

The next day,Kim- Jisoo left another note saying:You are really mean, and this is really gonna hurt you so come at the back of the school at the evening and do remember to look pretty.

I was shocked. I had so many what ifs in my head.I turned over to Jisoo he grinned at me.That evening, I was about to go to him ,when I saw Soobin, he was really suspicious and he was going the same direction as me,I was behind him.The thing that really shocked me ,was that he was meeting Kim-Jisoo too.Well why did he not tell me about it. Maybe he thought that I would follow him. Actually I would.

“What do you want?” Questioned Soobin. “I want Ara! Stop getting in to our relationship,or you will be dead!” He was trying to threaten him again. Before he could hit Soobin, I quickly ran in to him and pushed him away from Soobin. I tried to drag Soobin away , but he did not even budge. Kim-Jisoo punched Soobin in the face, by that time ,I started to cry. Soobin was bleeding so then I dragged him away while I was crying.We went home and on the way home he did not say a word.When we got to my room, I first aided him. He held my wrist and said “ There is something I really wanna tell you, I had this feeling about you for a very long time. I don’t want you to be Jisoo’s so, I really like you. Will you be my girlfriend. I nodded. He hugged me and I hugged him back.

1 year later:

After our graduation, I became a makeup artist and Soobin (my boyfriend) became a journalist. One day, Soobin decided to surprise me and took me to a date on Valentine’s Day. He was so sweet to me, and even pulled the chair for me. When the food was served, I felt something hard in my mouth.I tried taking the hard thing out. And I saw a diamond 💍 ring. It was outrageous. “ Choi-Ara will you be my bride and live with me for ever?” I nodded. IT WAS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!

At the end of the date, he took me out side and told me to close my eyes. When I opened my eyes he bought me my dream car which was a Bugatti I suddenly screamed! I could not believe it I could talk. Like how? He was so confused and so was I was like “ I can talk! Yay.I loved it soooooo soooooo much my voice and the Bugatti.

We got married and Kim-jisoo even came to our marriage. He was with his new girlfriend. Sorry I could not take a pic because I had to stay by Soobin.

Note from the author: Hi ,am the author and the Idea of this was made by my sister *********. I hope you love my stories that I have written now and am going to write next. Bye😘😘😘

#oi felix

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shaoyinzhang · 6 years

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Be Creative, and be Changeable

“If we want to achieve something, we must continue to kill ourselves.” My idol, a weird but talent artist, said. He is the idol of mine in art since I stared learning to draw, and also the spiritual mentor of mine in life since I gradually read him from his portraits and paintings. He not only attached great importance to the ideas of the times, but also understood the Enlightenment of the ancient historical civilization. He was brave to expose the cruelty of reality and always kept his great charm and enthusiasm. By the way, his name is Pablo Picasso, and he told me a person should always be creative and be changeable like an artist.

I stared learning to draw when I was 3 years old in the kindergarten, and I met Pablo Picasso when I was 4-year-old in a picture album of my art teacher totally by accident. It was a classic of Picasso, and it made the me, a four years old kid, become more confident in painting. I am so confident that my painting is absolutely at the same level with the painting on the picture album. “I must be the good artist!” I believed that in 4 years old. The picture on that picture album is a classic painting of Picasso: “bull”. At that age, many memories were not clear, but my mother told me that I often painted strange shapes and distorted animals to ask for the praise of the teachers and parents that time. I was pretty shamed to know that story when I was 15 years old, and at that time, I am a good student in my art training school was praised by many art teachers of mine. I could already copy the portrait and many other grate paintings of Pablo Picasso and other grate painters at that time. At that time I was so proud that many people praised me for my painting. Until one day, as usual, I showed my copy to an uncle who was a graphic design. But the answer is not the compliment I expected. My uncle asked me, "these are all other's paintings. What about your own? " I froze. Yes, I was wrong. I was just a good student, not a great artist. I painted the same work as thousands of fine arts students. What was I proud of?

I was an artist actually when I was four, but I was just a good student like a sheep when I was fifteen. I should not be shamed when I heard I have painted the distorted paintings, but I should shamed when I am proud of the copy of grate paintings. Pablo Picasso said that “Every child is an artist, and the key to the problem lies in how he is still an artist when he grows up. I can draw as well as Rafael at 14, then I use my life to learn to draw like a child.” An artist should be creative, but most art students these days are only the sheep who always conform the order by true grate artist or even only their teachers who are the sheep without their own paintings as well. They are workers and good students who could perfectly use the ways or styles created by great artist paint some still life, plaster sculptures, or models. But they do not have their own feelings, thoughts, or expressions. Unfortunately, they could be creative when they are children, but as they trained and brainwashed by society and school, they gradually lose this precious ability. After noticing that, I told myself that I need to find that creativity back like Pablo Picasso, and make a change from the portrait of 15 years old Picasso to the portrait of 25 years old Picasso which has a distinct personality and creative characteristic.

Since then, I occasionally copy the basis of the one or two painting practice, and put more time to consolidate my own style of painting and create my own short comics. Even though it is really hard at the beginning, because I have been trained as a sheep who could only follow the order and copy others, gradually, my creative paintings are also recognized by more and more friends and teachers. I began to master my own painting style and experience skills. Day after day, I began to be complacent again. I am used to the expression of the sketch, because I cannot conquer the color skillfully yet. For a long time, my paintings were all black and white. More and more friends ask me why, but I just ignored them and insist my own way stubbornly. Until I read one of Picasso's words, I felt into thought again: “I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it.” Suddenly, I was shamed that I reject color because I am not good at it. I thought if Pablo Picasso could not do something well, he must try him best to try and learn until he could finally master it. I told myself that I have to change, I have to try new things, and I have to rebel the old me, in order to create a new one. Be changeable is important to artist, and “change” is a key word of being a great artist like Pablo Picasso. Someone asks for the representative work of Pablo Picasso, and the other guy replied with a smile: Which Pablo Picasso? Isn’t it sounds like crazy? But we do have the Pablo Picasso in Blue Period, in Rose Period, in African-influenced Period, in Analytic Cubism, in Synthetic Cubism, and in Crystal Period. We have multiple different Picasso, and each Picasso is a total better new one compared to the last one. This change is a combination of life experiences, and every change is like the nirvana of the Phoenix. The old style burnt and died in the fire, and the better new painting born in the ashes. Only keeping changing could help artist have endless imagination, and since that, he could be the first painter in the history to see his own works and be collected into Le Louvre Museum by himself. Now, even though I could not use brush as well as I use my pencil, I am still trying to use color to create the different painting style of mine. However, this is only the first change I have made in my painting, I will definitely keep changing and be always creative to create my own paintings.

I said that Pablo Picasso is not only the idol of mine in art, but also the spiritual mentor of mine in life. Although Picasso's own life is a mess, neither family nor marriage seems to be happy and harmonious, but inspired and changeable lifestyle influence me in many ways. My mentor believes that people have three levels: mediocre, inspired, and changeable. I reorganized them to make them more suitable for the 21 century, and the three levels are: conformity, identity, and changeable identity.

According to the definition from social psychology, conformity, which means going along with social norms, customs or norms. Conformity is a normal social influence, and it will usually and easily happen when a group of people getting together. To certain degree, conformity helps people getting well involve in the society with other people, but it also forces people to gradually lose their identity, which means: being a sheep. These days, many friends of mine went to the Ultra. This is a big party without identity, which is composed of several foolish DJs and endless thousands of crazy sheep. Sometimes I think what would Picasso think if he saw those crazy and silly people on the Ultra? Perhaps in his eyes, these people may not be different from the bull, which symbolizes fascism in the "Guernica". The soldiers in the war have no identity, no difference, no thought, and people in ultra are exactly the same. The human beings in this level are even not humans. They are sheep, but the lovely controllable sheep trained by our society, including family, university, workplace, and so on. Everyone has to hold an ID to live in their own countries, and their countries use a long number to named them. It seems they have their own identity, but the truth is totally opposite: they become the silly sheep owned by the society which give them the “fake identity”. But what is ridiculous is that sheep always feeling good about themselves, like the 15 years old me, who was proud of my sheep-like copy work without creativities. Another example is very ironic: the fashion, which is the coolest thing in most people’s mind, and actually the most uncool. I've been fascinated by fashion, because I thought the fashion styles make me very cool and different. Like thousands of fashion seekers, I mimicked the elements or costumes of fashion shows. Every sheep wanted to be the pioneer in the front, but they forget that the pursuit of fashion is an imitation of the so-called new style created by others. We want to be different, but this same mentality, “be different”, is the same. In fact, chasing fashion itself is also a kind of special conformity, not from our own identity.

We need to be creative not only in the painting, but also in the life. Nietzsche told us that God is dead, and if we do not want to be the silly sheep, we have to create ourselves and be our own God. As long as by creating ourselves, people could gradually find the identity, controlled and belonged to themselves. Actually, creating is hard, but many great people have their own identity started a really simple step to begin. Identity means breaking from the group to become an individual, which is super difficult for people nowadays. Only the cool people always rebel the group, rebel the order of others, rebel becoming similar with others, and due to these ways, cool people could finally have chance to find their own identity. As my idol, the first step to fining identity is to choose a name for his painting career. When young Picasso successfully admitted to the Royal Academy in Saint, he could not stand the atmosphere there, and then, he returned to Barcelona's parents. During that time, he felt disappointed about painting , but the mother encouraged and supported him, which made him rekindled the confidence. In order to express gratitude to his mother, he changed his signature to his mother's surname, Picasso. Another example is an famous psychologist, Eric Erickson. When he grew up, he knew that his father is not his real father, and he was raised by foster parents. From then on, he began to look for the whereabouts of his own father. After unremitting efforts, he finally heard his real father named Erick. Thus, he changed his name to the name of his father, and his surname to Ericson because he does not know his real family name. Erickson’s famous development stage points out that people will face a change between “identity confusion” and “identity” when they are adolescents. He believes people have to go through this period to grow up, change from the adolescents to the real adults. After given a name for ourselves, people should continue creating. After Pablo Picasso use his mother’s name to name all himself as a painter, he continued creating his painting to express his emotion and thoughts. Some paintings reflect his love story, and others may reflect how he viewed the suffering world. This Picasso, who lives forever in those paintings, and all his paintings are created by Pablo Picasso. All of these is his most precious identity. For me, I think I am still seeking for my own identity. Even though I may not change my real name, but I give myself an English name and a pseudonym. I try to gradually know what kind of person I want to be and create what I really want step by step. I hope one day, I could create my own identity, just like Pablo Picasso.

There is a higher state above the identity: the changeable identity, which means not only being creative, but also being changeable. When people gradually create their own identity, they still need to keep changing and improving to become better. Pablo Picasso told me there is two reasons why people need to be changeable. First of all, people need to continue changing to try new things to know what is most suitable for them. Pablo Picasso tried many kinds of different painting ways: oil painting, stench, engraving, flat plate painting, and sculpture. Changing help him know which one is the most suitable way for him in that situation and age. Not only on painting, he made lots of changes in his love story. As we all know, Picasso had three wife in his life, and many other lovers. Due to too many changings, maybe he is not a good husband or a good father, but I believe that having so many emotional experiences, at least to show that he had always believed in love and wanted to find the most suitable woman for him. His love story influenced his painting style and made his artistic successful achievements. Thus, always keeping changing, because you never know whether the next when is better than now. I love trying new foods in different place, and lots of new things make me feel like they are better than any of foods that I could taste in my daily life. I believe Pablo Picasso must envy me that I can study abroad and experience life in different countries. Facing a totally different environment could help me find my changeable identity. At least, there is two of me now. One is Shaoyin in China, and the other one is Shaoyin in Miami. “We” speak different language, use different way to study, eat different food, and so on. Which one is better? I have no idea, but when facing a certain situation, I must have a more suitable identity to face. Secondly, always keeping change for cool people means they are always keeping dealing with uncomfortable things. Cool people like Picasso know that life is full of uncomfortable and suffering. All people are the comfort-seekers, but most people only seek for comfort which makes them never be comfortable in the life. Only cool people know that the key to really find comfort is trying best to deal with as much uncomfortable things in the life. Picasso said that “I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it.” Thus, after master the things that he originally cannot do, he will make a change to face another new thing, or called an uncomfortable thing, which he cannot do. Now, I am not a changeable people, but I will try to challenge myself to find my different identities. The first step for me is finding something I am uncomfortable with, not good at, or even afraid of it. Personally, I am a little bit afraid of water, and I am terrible at swimming. Then, I need to face it, to change myself become stronger to deal with those uncomfortable feeling. Nowadays, I plan to swim every week to deal with that uncomfortable feeling, and I believe one day, I will enjoy the water comfortably. “If we want to achieve something, we must continue to kill ourselves.” Picasso said. I would like to kill the weak me, in order to create a stronger me.

Most people nowadays are sheep without thoughts and identity. Do not have to be depressed. As long as you want to change, do something from now. Create yourself to find your own identity, and then keep change to improve your multiple identities. Pablo Picasso, my idol and mentor, told me that people should be creative and changeable.

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prettymysticfalls · 7 years

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Skam: 5 Years Forward

The Characters

Eva: She takes a year off to decide what she should study. A year later, she makes up her mind and starts to study Media and Communication. She works part-time as assistant event planner. She does charity works. When there are any charity events, she attends those with Noora.

Noora: She studies Sociology. After graduating from university, she considers applying for a master’s degree. She can not decide whether she should apply for Gender Studies in Oslo or in London. In her leisure time, she writes blog posts related to feminism and human’s rights to bring awareness. In the meantime, she also volunteers with refugees and migrants.

Sana: She studies Medicine. She is determined to become a brain surgeon so she studies hard. She is the founder member of Musisters. She shares her experiences with Muslim girls and she encourages them. She also joins forums and shares her former struggles online.

Vilde: She studies Fashion and Costume Design. She finally feels self-confident because thinking about clothes and designing them makes her feel good. She works part-time at a cosmetics store. She takes wine classes and goes to wine tasting events. She likes to spend her time on Pinterest. She also runs an instagram account about spreading positive vibes.

Chris: She studies Travel and Tourism Management. She works part-time at a museum. She takes brewing courses. She travels to Germany to attend Oktoberfest every year. Her German language skills improved thanks to her German boyfriend whom she met at Oktoberfest.

Isak: He studies Psychology. He considers applying for a master’s degree in Clinical Psychology after graduating. He especially likes to read books and watch movies about Abnormal Psychology. He is a member of LGBT Student Society at university. Every year, he attends the Pride Parade with Even and Eskild.

Even: He studies Visual Communication. He is a freelance artist and has his own website for web and graphic design. He draws sketches and paints portraits to earn an extra revenue. He has a Youtube Channel where he posts his short films, videos of him talking about bipolar disorder and sexual preferences.

Jonas: He studies Economics. On the weekends, he plays guitar with his own band at a local club. He is lovers with his band’s soloist. They write love songs and make music together.

Magnus: He studies Business Administration. In the future, he wants to open his own bar. He keeps telling Jonas that he will hire Jonas’ band after opening his bar.

Mahdi: He studies Philosophy. He wants to write books and he wants to become a research assistant at university. He works part-time at a waffle shop.

William: He works with his father in London. He used to be angry at Nico for years, then he decided that it would be the best if he at least tried to help him. So, now he makes sure Nico stays in rehab and receives treatment and therapy he needs.

Christoffer: He also lives in London after William called him and asked him to work in his father’s company.

Yousef: He has his own kindergarten school. In his spare time, he gardens and grow vegetables in his garden. He enjoys cooking and making desserts. He is especially an expert when it comes to making carrot cake.

Elias: After taking a year off, he ends up studying Sports, since he wants to be a physical education teacher. He works part-time at a gym.

Mikael: He studies Screenwriting. He writes scripts for Even’s short films.

Adam: He studies Directing. He directs Even’s short films.

Mutasim: He decides to study International Relations. Then, he suspends his studies for a while because he feels overwhelmed and he feels like taking a break. Then, he starts to work full-time at a supermarket.

Eskild: He decides to become a guru for everyone. Therefore, he comes up his own brand, Eskild the Guru, on social media. He creates a Youtube channel, instagram account, facebook page and twitter account dedicated to his Guru brand. Meanwhile, he becomes a part of LGBT Youth Community.

Linn: After Even invites Linn and Eskild to an art exhibition featuring his paintings, Linn meets a Swedish artist there and finally finds love after years. The artist asks Linn out and they become a couple. Linn moves to Sweden and lives with her boyfriend.

Ingrid: She studies Literature and wants to be a literature teacher.

Sara: She studies Law. She intends to become a lawyer and thinks she will become a successful one because of her good persuasion and influencing skills.

The Un/Official Couples

Noorhelm: They resolve their problems and make a promise to each other that they will make their long distance relationship work. Noora decides that it would be the best for her if she completes her bachelor degree in Oslo. William respects her decision. Sometimes, William comes to Oslo and sometimes, Noora goes to London depending on their schedules. William tries to convince her to move to London for her master’s degree in the future.

Yousana: They become a couple. Sana feels overstressed because of her studies which leads to a couple fights between them. Yousef tells Sana that it would be best for them to take a break until she feels relieved.

Vilnus: After they start to study at different universities, Magnus has major trust problems whenever Vilde parties with her new friends. He breaks up with her. Vilde becomes a train wreck. After seeing how Magnus is doing fine thanks to her friends and via social media, Vilde decides that it is time for her to take care of herself and she enrolls in a gym class. At the gym, she sees Elias there and they start to talk. Vilde and Elias end up becoming a couple.

Mohnstad: Christoffer invites Eva to London. Eva feels excited about seeing London and she goes there with Noora, when Noora goes to London to see William. They become on and off. However, Eva gets tired of this endless cycle, she decides to give a chance to a guy who genuinely likes her. When Christoffer finds it out, he feels jealous that it is going to be a serious thing and he tells Eva his real feelings for her. Finally, after years, they become an official couple. Christoffer considers coming back to Norway for Eva.

Evak: Isak and Even study in different cities. Their long distance relationship becomes an issue for Isak who feels insecure when Even finds new friends. After Isak finds out, Even is busy working on his short film projects with Mikael and Adam, Isak’s jealousy gets triggered. He starts to fear that Even will cheat on him with Mikael and he breaks up with Even in order to avoid being cheated by him. Mikael and Adam realize how heartbroken Even feels because of Isak’s decision. So, they come up with a special idea that they persuade Even to make a short film about Evak. After seeing the film, Isak realizes he made a mistake and he apologizes to Even. They become a couple again after being apart for 9 months.

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cjihve · 7 years

Photo

❝ maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything. maybe it’s about unbecoming everything that isn’t really you, so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place.

GENERAL INFO

full name: choi jihye.

nickname(s): jinnie. jiji.

gender & pronouns: cisfemale - she/her/hers

sexual & romantic orientation: pansexual, panromantic.

age & dob: 22. september 9th

birthplace/hometown: seoul

parents/siblings: choi jaehwan ( father | living ) , kim hyejin ( mother | deceased )

astrological sign: virgo.

dominant hand: left.

handwriting style: everything is very neatly spaced, petite and clean cut. ( HERE is a visual aid )

language(s) known/spoken: korean, french, spanish, english, portuguese, japanese ( fluent ), and she’s currently trying to learn cantonese.

religion: she believes in a higher power, but she’s more spiritual than religious because she doesn’t like the labels that come with religion.

current living arrangements: she lives in a small officetel. ( HERE is a visual aid )

occupation/major: she’s a kindergarten teacher !! also, a freelance photographer & painter when she needs a little extra money on the side.

APPEARANCES

picture reference: JIHYE with light hair. JIHYE with dark hair ( current )

blood type: B

nationality: korean.

skin tone/color: she’s a little on the tanner side currently, but not quite golden. she says she’s more like a fish fry sort of tan. during the winter, tho, she gets more on the milky side.

birthmarks & scars: she has a patch of skin on her left shoulder that’s a little darker than her skintone in the shape of a diamond, about the size of a quarter. she has a lot of small scars from growing up because she was quite the explorer, but nothing major.

height: ~168cm ( 5′ 6″ )

build: lean, slim.

hair color: she’s got black hair currently, with some hint of silver. she goes back and forth between light and dark shades, though.

hair length: it’s long, a little more than halfway down her back. she doesn’t want to cut any off, beside trim, until it gets to her butt.

eye color: honey brown ( those are because of her contacts, tho ... think like a lion, but just a shade or two deeper ), but they’re a darker brown naturally.

eye shape: HERE.

diet: what she want, when she want ??

exercise & level of fitness: her only exercise is running around with her kids ( and some bedroom stuff ). she’s actually pretty weak, but she does a fairly good job and opening jars by herself at home. and when she can’t, she’ll run over to taehyun like “please open this jar of pickles for me thank u ilysm~”

how’s their posture ( or lack thereof )?: she preaches about good posture at school, so it’s only right that she practice it. at home, however, her posture is pretty non-existent.

typical style of dress: her teacher style: x | x | x | x | x her street style: x | x | x | x | x

body modifications: she has (1) piercing per lobe and an industrial in her left ear, which she hides with her hair for school, even if it’s just baby strands when she wears it up.

BODY LANGUAGE AND MANNERISMS

how does your muse walk?: normally, very carefree and airy, almost like a gentle summer’s breeze. she doesn’t have much confidence, but her head is held high just so she can smile at everyone who passes by.

how does your muse talk?: she’s very clear and concise with her words and pronunciation, especially when speaking with her students. she’s also very animated ( makes a great story-teller ).

what accent/dialect does your muse talk with?: she speaks with a “seoul” accent, aka she doesn’t have one. thanks to all the places she’s live, tho, she’s learned/picked up a lot of different ones, so she can speak with a few if she wants to.

how high (or low) is the tone of their voice? are they loud or quiet?: her vocal levels range, going high and low thanks to her need to be animated, but when she’s speaking normally, she’s a little on the higher side.

what is their laugh like?: she laughs with her whole body and constantly covers her face. her laugh is more like a giggle, but when she laughs uber hard, there’s no sound except her occasional wheezing.

how does your muse typically smell?: vanilla and cherry blossoms. she alternates between the two fragrances, sometimes mixing the two when she’s feeling a little … bold.

what kind of air do they carry? are they intimidating?: she’s very warm and polite. most find her welcoming and veRY far from intimidating.

PSYCHOLOGY

what makes your muse happiest?: cherry blossoms. photography. art. taehyun !!!! walking around museums with tristan. also, tristan’s voice. food. spending time with minkyo. hanging with laon; watching him interact with her students. rainy days. warm showers. seyeon. sleeping late. long train rides & walks. coffee with sehyun. her job !! scolding taemin after listening to his radio show. reading. learning. growing. smiles. surprises. sunflowers. banana milk. ice cream. ace. basically everything, tbh ??

what upsets them the most?: herself. impatient people / lack of manners. being forgetful. nightmares.

does your muse have any quirks?: licking her lips/chewing her lips and cheek. shaking her left leg. cracking her neck. clicking her tongue and sometimes sticking it out when she’s focused or thinking about something.

what are their hobbies? how frequent do/can they do them?: photography and painting. she does them every chance she gets, which is usually fairly often.

do they have any guilty pleasures?: when she’s not having the best day or she’s kind of stressed out, she’ll scream out a pokemon name and their “battle cry” before she goes back to doing what she’s doing. ( … don’t ask; just know her neighbors really don’t like her for it )

is your muse an extrovert? an introvert? neither?: she’s a mix of the two, tbh. she’s more open with kids, tho.

do they have high or low self-esteem? what about confidence?: she falls on the lower side of the scale for self-esteem and she doesn’t have much confidence. at all.

are they easily stressed? how do they respond to stress?: she gets overwhelmed sort of easily, but she normally tries to plow straight through the issues until she gets to a solution, but that doesn’t always work. and when she finds that it’s not working, she’ll do that habit she has of screaming and then get back to it.

what is your muses worst fear?: losing people. never finding a love that lasts.

what is your muses biggest dream?: finding a love that’ll last.

is your muse an early riser? a night owl?: she’s both.

how intelligent is your muse? do they acknowledge it?: her intelligence level is above average, but she doesn’t speak on it too much. she thinks she’s dumb.

what is their sense of humour like?: she finds almost everything funny and very rarely will you find her not giggling. and the more she’s NOT supposed to laugh, the harder she actually laughs. it’s terrible.

RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES

what’s their sexual orientation? what about romantic?: pan errthang !! pls let her lov u ://

are they currently in any sexual or romantic relationships?: she’s in one ongoing/regular sexual relationship with minkyo. she’ll gladly get into a sexual relationship with almost everyone. she’s not in any romantic relationships yet, tho.

what is their experience with relationships?: she has some, but none of them have worked out that great ( mainly bc she’s a sack of jealous :// so :// )

how does your muse view the idea of friends with benefits? have they ever had one, or would they ever?: she doesn’t mind the idea. so long as the people you’re hooking up with don’t have significant others. she’s very much against cheating. she’s currently in a fwb relationship

sex, is it important to your muse?: of course, but it’s not everything.

what are their biggest turn on and turn offs?: in her own words ?? turn ons : everything but the nasty stuff :/// turn offs: the nasty stuff :///

does your muse find it easy to make friends?: she personally doesn’t find it very easy; not making actual friends, anyway.

how important is friendship to them?: very,very, very important.

quantity or quality of friends?: quality always beats quantity, obviously !!

how important is family?: to her, the most important.

are they close to their family? why or why not ?: she’s not the closest with her dad, not the way she used to be as a child, anyway. and she feels like she’s close with her mother … well, as close as she can be.

HEADCANONS

001. her relationship with her dad started to go downhill as jihye grew older and she noticed the difference the day after her father had told her that she was beginning to look, and act, more like her mother.

002. continuing on the same topic as the above headcanon, she doesn’t dislike her father, nor is she angry with him. she understands his issue isn’t with her, it’s just that he’s still having a hard time over the loss … that doesn’t stop her from blaming herself for his broken heart and the death of her mother.

003. she suffers from insomnia, she thinks, because she’s forced herself to stay awake for so many years. she’s suffered from a reoccurring nightmare, specifically of her mother, so to stop it from happening … she’s done what she could to stop herself from sleeping. now, it’s just a habit. she seems to get tired when she’s not meant to sleep.

004. flowers & nature are her favorite things to photograph, and paint. she also gets enjoyment out of painting portraits of her friends, with flowers ( which she associates with that specific friend ) as the backdrop.

005. she makes a lot of the clothes she wears for school. her students even help her out sometimes by creating the stencils or giving her patterns.

006. she also has a habit of bringing it a white maxi dress at the end of the school year and has her students put their handprints / draw small pictures and write their name underneath said handprint and/or picture. then she stores them so nothing happens to them.

007. she makes it a POINT to stay in contact with the parents of her past students, along with the students themselves. she’s very invested in them and their education, and she likes to watch as they grow.

008. there are only two things in this world that jihye would literally throw fists for … that is taehyun and her students. ( in case you couldn’t tell … she rly lovs her kids :/// & her pooh bear )

009. she’s a nickname person. she adores them and if you scroll through her contacts list, it’s literally made up of ALL nicknames. and if you want her to love you even more than she already does ?? give her a nickname.

010. touching on the accent thing ... she’s got a very good ear for them. if you speak to her in ( or she listens to ) an accent for a total of, at least, three minutes, she’s able to mimic it. which is partly why, when she goes on any sort of trip, she likes to speak in a different accent the whole time. you know, pretend to be someone she’s not.

011. she’s uber light handed when it comes to her handwriting, so she’s always writing with a pen !! and she prefers ballpoint ( whereas she’ll only sketch with a mechanical pencil ) she’s also an avid collector of stationary. and all of her cards for birthdays and/or holidays are all handmade because she’s disgustingly sentimental :///

#seoultask #did i do the second one before i even completed the first one for her ........... nO WYM #dont @ me pls ://///#also this is rly gross & i got lazy hence the disgusting graphic n 2938575 possible spelling errors

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megaphonemonday · 7 years

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If you're taking requests, can I please get a fic of Ginny where she's Mike's daughter's kindergarten teacher?

oh, geez, Joudie. Do you see what you’ve made me do? I am tied up in all these feelings about Mike as a single dad now. Like 8000 words later and I’m still not over it.

anyway, i hope this makes you smile!

easy as 1, 2, 3 | ao3

“Daddy, look!”

Obediently, Mike stopped, one of Maddie’s little hands still curled in his. The other pointed up, towards a wall of artwork. (Well, calling it “art” was maybe generous, but the kids were five and six. He could cut them a little slack.) He tried to follow the line of her tiny finger, but wasn’t sure what she wanted him to see.

“What am I looking at, Mads?” he asked with a frown.

Impatiently, she raised her arms, the imperious “Up!” left unsaid.

With a groan—his girl was getting too big or his knees were aging too fast for this—Mike hauled her up onto his hip so she could point with more accuracy. Apparently, now that she had a better vantage, pointing wasn’t enough. Instead, she curled her fingers into his beard and tugged, like it was a set of reins and he was her noble steed.

He really needed to stop letting the guys give her “horsey rides” if this was what he got out of it.

“Ow! Mads, gentle,” he reminded her, still moving to the right. The way she’d wanted. Geez, that was effective.

Satisfied he was doing as she wanted, and—unfortunately—probably not because it was the right thing to do, she released her grip on him. She reached out and smacked her hand against one of the pictures. Immediately, his eyes zeroed in on the familiar, slightly shaky, handwriting of his daughter in the bottom corner. In painstaking letters, she’d spelled out “Madeline Lawson,” each letter a different color.

Honestly, how he’d missed it before was beyond him.

“It’s our family!” she announced brightly, not that Mike really needed the update.

Right in the middle, shorter than everyone else, was Maddie. He could tell it was Maddie because she’d painstakingly drawn herself in her favorite outfit, bright yellow overalls. There were four contingency pairs hidden in his closet. When it became clear how much she loved them, Mike went right out and bought an emergency stash. And a good thing, too. There had been five contingency pairs, but after he accidentally bleached the originals, they’d moved onto pair number two.

Beside her, much taller, that had to be him. At five, Maddie hadn’t yet learned artistic subtlety, so he was marked by both his beard, far bushier than he ever let it grow, and a baseball hat.

Some of the other figures, though, required a bit more thought. It didn’t help that Maddie’s understanding of family wasn’t quite... traditional.

Off to the side, with a gut and mop of gray hair, that had to be Skip, or Grandpa Al as his daughter had learned to call his longtime manager. Blip and Evelyn, along with Gabe and Marcus, were also included in Maddie’s vision of their family. Even Jedi, standing next to Maddie, though Mike doubted the little girl remembered the dog who’d died when she was three, was represented.

As conspicuous as the odd additions to their family tree was the glaring absence. There was no Rachel, which made Mike’s heart pang, just a little. But looking down at how proud his daughter was of her drawing, and how happy she’d made everyone in it look, he told himself again that Maddie couldn’t miss what she didn’t remember.

That only left one thing unexplained.

“Who’s this?” Mike asked, tapping the remaining woman in the picture. Well, he thought it was a woman. She was wearing a dress and had long hair. Then again, Maddie’d seen what the team made rookies wear during September hazing, so it was best to check.

“That’s Miss Baker,” Maddie replied, as if it required no further explanation.

Mike stared at the curly-haired figure. He had yet to meet Maddie’s new teacher. It was why they were here, in fact. When her original kindergarten teacher went on maternity leave early in the school year, Miss Baker had been hired to replace her. He knew that Maddie loved the woman, had come home with stars in her eyes the first day with her and breathed, “Daddy, she’s the best.” But between post season press obligations and trying to make sure there would be more than enough money to send his daughter to college, he hadn’t gotten a chance to meet the new teacher.

Which was really the only reason he’d signed up for a parent-teacher conference. It was kindergarten for Christ’s sake. What could there be to conference about? And barely six weeks into the year?

“Sweetheart, you know that Miss Baker’s not part of our family, right?”

Maddie shrugged in his arms, clearly uninterested in the conversation, looking down the hall towards her classroom.

Mike chuckled and dropped the subject. Miss Baker was surely waiting.

The closer they got, the more Maddie began to wriggle, nearly bouncing in his arms. She really was excited to be see her teacher. When he’d told her she didn’t have school today, she’d pouted for nearly an hour until Mike finally caved and told her about the conference. He wasn’t actually sure if he was supposed to bring Maddie along, though he was positive he’d never gone to a conference with his mom. Not unless the principal called her in and he was already waiting in the office.

But who was he to tell his baby girl that she couldn’t go to school if she wanted?

God, where did she get it from? Certainly not Mike, who’d only graduated because he couldn’t play ball if he didn’t.

He set Maddie down and watched as she dashed ahead into her classroom. He rounded the corner just in time to see her run to her teacher, who crouched down to greet the girl with a high five. She listened as Maddie prattled on and on, her focus not once wavering from her student. It wasn’t until his daughter pointed back towards him that she stood, looking towards the door.

For a moment, everything slowed. Her curly hair, tossed casually over her shoulder, seemed to float, unaffected by gravity. Sparkling brown eyes met his own and Mike would swear that his heart flipped in his chest.

Miss Baker blinked, shaking herself a little, before smiling warmly—had he ever been so affected by dimples before?—and extending her hand.

Mike blinked back, reaching out to shake automatically.

“Mr. Lawson? Hi, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Ginny Baker.”

(Preposterously, the first thing to cross his mind was Maddie’s picture out in the hallway. Not even two minutes ago, he’d thought it was weird for his kid to include a woman she’d only known a matter of weeks in her family portrait.

Now, he was beginning to think Maddie’d been onto something.)

If, after finally meeting the illustrious Miss Baker, Mike made a point of being a more visibly hands on parent, especially around school, he told himself he was just taking advantage of the off season to hang out more with his kid, which hadn’t been much of an issue when she was in pre-K. She was growing up so fast, he could hardly stand it.

And it wasn’t even a lie. He hadn’t actually realized there were so many volunteer jobs in Maddie’s classroom. Things had definitely changed since he was in school.

Which didn’t make him feel old. At all.

What did get to him was being surrounded by a bunch of kindergartners and their energetic 24-year-old leader. How she managed to keep up with the twenty-odd hell-raisers was a mystery, especially when his one morning a week left him nearly as drained as catching nine innings.

It helped that it was the most fun he’d had in a long time, though.

Maybe he would’ve liked school more if his teachers had looked like Miss Baker, or Ginny as she’d insisted when he showed up for the second time this week. He’d immediately reciprocated, because while he usually got a kick out of people calling him Mr. Lawson, from Ginny it just made him feel even more like a dad.

The way she’d grinned and nodded, testing out his name, well, that had definitely been a different kind of kick.

A kick that he had to ignore for the benefit of the small children around him.

Children that had just headed off to lunch.

“Bye, daddy!” his little girl called down the hallway, waving madly. “Bye, Miss Baker!”

Ginny and Mike stood at the door to her classroom, waving until the line of kindergartners disappeared around the hall. Once they were out of sight, Ginny sighed, slumping against the doorframe.

So she wasn’t a boundless well of energy.

The thought was oddly comforting.

“Long day at the office?” he joked weakly, a little too distracted by the dark sweep of her eyelashes against her cheekbones.

She snorted anyway, tossing him a grin as she turned back into the room, heading towards her desk.

Mike followed along, feeling more flustered around a pretty girl than he’d been in a long time. A pretty girl who happened to be his young daughter’s teacher.

Pulling himself out of that train of thought, he cast his attention elsewhere. Specifically, the little Padres pennant poking out of her pencil cup.

He flicked it with a finger, watching it flutter. “You a fan?”

“Yeah.” She smiled sheepishly, looking up at him through her lashes as she straightened her desk. “I actually didn’t realize that you were Maddie’s dad until you walked in for her conference.”

He grinned at that. “What, you don’t memorize all your students’ family trees?”

“Ah, I knew I’d forgotten something when I took over!”

Mike laughed, not because it was a particularly good joke, but because he liked the way it sounded when their chuckles blended together.

“I mean,” she continued, “she told me you played baseball, but I kind of figured she meant in a summer league or something? It’s funny what kids fixate on about their parents. Like Jack M? He told me his mom’s job was playing with water guns.”

“And what does she actually do?”

“She’s a firefighter.”

Mike chuckled appreciatively. “That’s not surprising. It took a long time to explain to Maddie that my job was just playing a game.”

Ginny smiled and nodded, a little rueful. “I get that. My dad actually used to play. In the minors. He retired before I was ever born, but I always told people that he was a baseball player.”

“Oh, what was his name? Maybe I’ve heard of him.”

She shot him a look that said she knew he was just being polite, and her lips quirked. “I doubt it. I’m sure he was before even your time.”

Mike’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a disbelieving laugh bursting from his chest. Miss Baker’s eyes widened as she realized what she’d said and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t—”

He just chuckled, waving her off. “It’s all right. I am the oldest guy on the team now that Hunter retired.” He waited until she gave him a tentative smile back to look away. His gaze landed on the clock. With a start, he rapped his knuckles on her desk. “I should get outta your hair. Let you enjoy your peace and quiet while you have it.”

“I don’t mind,” she replied, still looking a little shy, though Mike was sure that was just left over embarrassment. Just like he was sure she was just being polite when she said she didn’t mind him hanging out.

It probably was safest to believe that. No, it definitely was safest to believe that.

“You say that now, but I can’t have you getting too sick of me. I’m signed up to be the Classroom Helper every Tuesday for the rest of the semester. Imagine how awkward it’ll be in December if you get sick of me now.”

The amusement on Ginny’s face was well worth losing a few of his cool points. They grinned at each other for a long moment, only breaking eye contact when she blinked and looked down.

When she peeked up again, though, she said, “Well, I guess I’ll have to look forward to next Tuesday, then.”

When he finally left the school, he had a grin on his face and a bounce in his step.

Mike, of course, because he didn’t do well with taking it easy or playing it cool, didn’t limit himself to his Tuesday morning duties as Classroom Helper. When Miss Baker’s class went on a field trip to a children’s music concert, he signed up as a chaperone. When the call went out for extra volunteers to help out with the kindergarten Halloween Party, Mike responded almost immediately. When the weekly story time volunteer had to cancel, Mike stepped in, and even consulted Ginny on kindergarten-appropriate reading material. (She laughed when he brought up “Casey at the Bat,” but suggested something with a happier ending.

Her laugh, as always, stayed with him for days.)

Which was why he finally admitted that, okay, he had a thing for Maddie’s teacher.

Not that he was going to do anything about it. Because aside from the age difference—she’d graduated from NC State two years ago and Mike could barely remember what high school had been like outside of the baseball team—and the fact that she was really and truly out of his league, Ginny Baker was his daughter’s teacher. There had to be some kind of rule or code against teachers dating parents.

He knew it. He accepted it, even.

But it didn’t keep him from sticking his nose where it probably didn’t belong.

Case in point: he invited her to Thanksgiving.

When he swung by the school to drop off Maddie’s forgotten lunchbox, he definitely hadn’t intended to invite the woman that he was harboring a monster crush on to Thanksgiving dinner, but it wasn’t as if he’d intended to develop that crush in the first place, either. Some things just happened.

The class was out at morning recess, so he didn’t bother going to the classroom. Instead, he made his way to the fenced in playground, sure that Ginny would be supervising her group of hellions there. When he arrived, though, the place was a ghost town.

Frowning, he circled, searching for the missing class, when the shrill shriek of little voices reached his ears.

He followed the sound to the flat expanse of grass around the back corner of the school, and was confronted by a tiny, makeshift baseball diamond swarming with small children. At the epicenter, a lightning rod compared to the munchkins surrounding her, was Ginny holding a big, red ball.

So, not baseball, then. Kickball.

When she caught sight of him, she smiled and waved, handing the ball off to the shy little boy next to her. She pointed and mimed rolling the ball to the next kicker in line before jogging up to Mike.

“Your daughter is kicking butts and taking names today,” she said in lieu of a real greeting.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned, finding Maddie out on second base, a determined glint in her eye.

For a moment, they stood watching the game, which seemed to go fairly smoothly even without a teacher’s guiding hand. Satisfied that all wouldn’t descend into chaos, Ginny returned her attention to Mike. Her head tilted slightly to the side, eyeing him. “Did I miss that you were volunteering today?”

Mike held up Maddie’s sparkly purple lunchbox. “Nope. Just making sure my kid won’t starve.”

“You know they’ll give her lunch if they find out she forgot it.”

“I do,” he replied easily, “but I also know she probably won’t eat it. How I ended up with the pickiest eater on the planet is beyond me.”

Ginny laughed. “I’m sure there are worse. The other kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Wallis, told me she once had a boy who only ate dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets. And when she got his sister the next year…” she trailed off, biting her lip and clearly trying to hold in laughter.

“Don’t leave me in suspense, Baker. What was it?”

“Spongebob mac and cheese.”

Mike chuckled at the absurdity of those poor parents stocking up on Kraft mac and cheese and chicken nuggets. “Maddie would love if I only made her chicken nuggets and mac and cheese,” he admitted. “But she is pretty excited for Thanksgiving. It’s the one meal she doesn’t ask questions.”

Ginny hummed in response and refocused her attention on the kids. One of them had taken a spill and she was waiting to see if she needed help or would get up on their own. When the girl pushed to her feet again, she turned back to Mike.

“So you don’t try and slip weird stuff by her then? My mom used to do that. Tell my brother and I that tuna fish casserole was traditional to get us to eat it.”

“No, but I might have to try it if her hatred of green beans goes any further.”

She shook her head ruefully before turning back to watch the game.

Mike did his best not to fidget at her side.

God, had he ever felt this awkward with a woman he’d been interested in? Probably not, if only because he could count on hand the number of women he’d been as interested in as Ginny and none of them were off limits.

“So,” he began, unsure of where to go. “Are you excited to go home for Thanksgiving?”

That was safe enough, right? It was this week, after all, with a shortened school week to celebrate; just Monday and Tuesday for both Ginny and the kids, and the rest off for an extra long weekend.

“Oh, I’m not.”

“Excited or going home?”

She frowned a little. “Both I guess? I couldn’t quite justify the ticket home when I also need to pay rent, so there’s not much to be excited for. It’ll probably be me, a pizza, and the Macy’s Parade.” Ginny’s drawl was good-humored, but it still unsettled something in Mike.

He remembered always being jealous of classmates who got to go to big Thanksgiving celebrations with all their cousins and grandparents, not to mention their moms and dads. While he’d never gotten that, and couldn’t really give it to Maddie, either, he sure as hell would share what he did have.

“Seriously? That sounds terrible.” he snorted, earning an indignant scoff from Ginny. “If that’s all you plan on doing, you should come to our Thanksgiving.”

“Yours and Maddie’s?” she replied, her tone hard to read.

Which gave Mike pause. What had he just done? “Well, yeah, but a few other people, too. It’s honestly a pretty motley crew that shows up, but I don’t have a lot of family and I’d hate if Maddie grew up without—”

“I understand,” she said, cutting him off with a hand to his arm. When had he started gesturing so wildly? He let her guide his arm back to his side, trying not to start babbling again. Luckily Ginny continued, “I’d love to come. Let me know what I can bring.”

Come Thursday afternoon, Mike wouldn’t say he was frazzled, per se, but between trying to keep Maddie, Gabe, and Marcus—not to mention Robles, Duarte, and Voorhies—entertained, shooing Al away from the already seasoned turkey (”Not everything needs more garlic, Skip!”), and squabbling with Evelyn over the finer points of entertaining, he probably wasn’t quite at his best when he opened the door to Ginny.

But the way her eyes trailed up from his bare feet to the novelty apron he suddenly wished he’d burned to the bit of flour stuck to his cheek was probably worth whatever craziness he’d been put through. Especially when she reached up, unthinking, to brush the powder away. When she realized what she’d done, her eyes went wide and a little embarrassed.

What did she have to be embarrassed about? was all he could think, trying to rein in the goofy grin that wanted to break over his face.

“Hi,” he greeted, a little breathier than was appropriate, even with the face touching. He cleared his throat, frowning. “Come on in.”

She stepped inside, smiling shyly. Dressed more casually than he was used to, Ginny still managed to make athletic leggings look like the height of fashion, though maybe that was just the way they put her long, lean legs on display. He was glad she’d taken him at his word about how casual this affair was. Livan was wearing some Ed Hardy knock off, for God’s sake.

Toeing off her sneakers, she said, “I know you said not to bring anything, but I was informed tha it’s rude to show up without some kind of gift, so here’s wine and sparkling cider for the kids.” Then, sheepishly, she admitted, “I don’t actually know anything about wine, but I do remember liking the cider when I was growing up.”

He took both bottles off her, ushering her towards the living room where most everyone else was gathered. “Thanks, Ginny.” He didn’t know why, but her name felt more significant in his mouth here. In his house. Mike shook off the errant thought and continued, “You’ve already put the guys to shame. They just showed up and asked, ‘When do we eat?’”

“The guys?”

They turned the last corner and Ginny froze at the sight of three San Diego Padres lounging on Mike’s sectional like they owned the thing. It wasn’t just their presence that made her stop in her tracks, though.

No, that was probably down to the fact that Maddie had used each one as her own personal mannequin and none of them had the heart (or brains) to say no.

Voorhies was decked out with a hot pink boa and a pair of Hello Kitty sun glasses, Livan had escaped with just the bright blue wig from Maddie’s Halloween costume fitted on his gigantic head, but it was poor Omar who’d suffered the most. Perched atop his head and shedding more glitter than Mike had believed possible was the tiara he was sure he’d hidden last year. Of course Maddie’d managed to find it and save it for a special occasion. That wasn’t all, though. No, his daughter had managed to immobilize the man by trying to pull her tutu up his legs, and failing that, stripped him of his socks so she could paint his toenails.

If Omar looked pained before, the sudden appearance of his captain and a pretty girl probably made him want to die. Especially when said pretty girl’s shoulders started shaking, her hand over her mouth failing to hide her amusement.

Because Mike wasn’t a perfect person, he fished out his phone and snapped a picture of all three men and their stylist, beaming with pride.

That done, he turned his attention back to his daughter.

“Mads, did you ask Omar if you could do that?”

“Uh huh,” she responded, not bothering to look up from her work.

“You know you didn’t have to let her, right?” he asked, this time focusing on his utility infielder.

“Uhh.”

Whether Omar’s indecision came from not actually knowing he was allowed to tell Maddie “no” or from Ginny’s presence and continued amusement, Mike couldn’t say. But the way his eyes darted between both suggested it was maybe both.

Taking pity on the man—he’d been laughed at by Ginny on more than one occasion and knew it stung the pride—Mike said, “Maddie, why don’t you put that away and come say hi to Miss Baker?”

His daughter’s head shot up at that, her little face lighting up. Somehow, she managed to avoid spilling her nail polish as she rocketed to her teacher’s side, practically bouncing with excitement.

Ginny smiled, getting down on Maddie’s level, but she still threw a few curious glances at the ballplayers in the room. The ballplayers were much less polite, staring openly at her. Like they’d never seen a beautiful woman before.

Their attention made Mike’s hackles rise because he was apparently no better than an animal when it came to hopeless infatuation, but he managed to keep his cool.

Taking a breath, he asked the hostess of the evening (not that he’d ever tell Evelyn that), “Do you want to introduce Miss Baker to everyone or should I?”

“I’ll do it!” Maddie exclaimed, grabbing Ginny’s hand and tugging her along. She went without protest, just throwing a quick grin over her shoulder to Mike.

His daughter took her role very seriously for all her enthusiasm. She pulled Ginny over to Dusty first.

“Miss Baker, this is Dusty. He plays baseball with daddy. Dusty, this is Miss Baker. She’s my teacher.”

“Hi,” Voorhies said with a little wave.

Maddie stomped her foot. “That’s not what you’re supposed to say!” she scolded, making the man rock back. Ginny choked on a laugh, her hand coming up to cover her mouth again.

“It’s not?”

“No! You say, ‘Nice to meet you,’ and shake hands. Right, Miss Baker?”

Ginny nodded, her lips pressed together to keep from laughing. Her eyes sparkled, though, telling Mike everything he needed to know about how much she wanted to let loose.

“We learned all about it in school,” Maddie continued, nodding wisely. “They’re called manners.”

Despite her best efforts, an odd, choked up sound escaped Ginny at that. Mike only barely managed to hold in his, but Livan didn’t even bother. He laughed long and hard, through Dusty’s correction and Omar’s mumbled greetings. He only sobered when Maddie and Ginny stopped in front of them, smirking up at them from his spot on the couch.

He waited long enough for Maddie to make it through his introduction before taking Ginny’s offered hand. Rather than shaking, though, he laid a kiss against her knuckles, murmuring something in Spanish.

When Ginny replied, only slightly hesitant, in the same tongue, that smirk deepened, less shit-eating and more intrigued.

Which was more than enough of that.

“Why don’t you go find Uncle Blip and the boys, kid? Take Miss Baker with you and make sure to introduce her to Aunt Ev and Grandpa Al, okay?”

Once they were gone, he turned back to his teammates, leveling them with an unimpressed stare.

“You holdin’ out on us, Lawson?” Livan goaded, not bothering to remove the stupid wig, though both Omar and Dusty had already ditched their costumes.

Mike didn’t dignify that with a response, just said, “If you offend my kid’s teacher and she flunks Maddie out of school, just know I will hold you personally responsible.” He crossed his arms, frowning as forbiddingly as he knew how. Which was pretty fucking forbidding, for all that he didn’t get to use it that often. He’d learned his lesson the first time he accidentally made Maddie cry trying to get her to confess to spilling her paint set.

As it turned out, though, the guys were not the ones that he should’ve been worried about.

Evelyn Sanders just loved to turn expectations on their heads.

Which was exactly what she did when she sidled up to him at the kitchen sink as he rinsed off dinner plates before getting the pies set up for dessert.

“Why didn’t I know about this?” she demanded, though she sounded more excited than annoyed, which was always a good thing when Evelyn was demanding something. If he knew what she was demanding, though, he’d have been even happier.

“Know about what?”

“Miss Baker!”

“Uh,” Mike hedged, having a terrible feeling he knew too well what Evelyn was talking about now. Had he given himself away at dinner? Laughed too much at her jokes? Been too obvious about keeping Livan from flirting across the table? (He had broken out his awful Spanish to head off any repeat performances of their introduction, which was anything but subtle.) It was only coincidence that they ended up sitting next to each other; every other seat was taken by the time he finally came out to the dining room. Still, he was going to play dumb as long as Evelyn let him. “Yeah, Mrs. Colton had to go on maternity leave early, so Miss Baker took over Maddie’s class.”

“You know very well that’s not what I’m talking about, Michael Lawson,” Evelyn scolded with a huff. So, not long at all. “I’m talking about the fact that you have been seriously dating Miss Baker. So seriously, in fact, that you’re going to propose!”

Mike sputtered. If he’d been drinking, there would have been a spit take of epic proportions. “I’m what?”

“The boys told me that Maddie told them,” here, Evelyn began to frown, considering her sources, “that you and Ginny are going to get married and she’s going to have a new mom.”

There wasn’t a lot he could do in the face of that information aside from let the tap run and wash over his hands.

God, he’d known Maddie liked Ginny, had been overjoyed when he told her her teacher was coming over for Thanksgiving dinner, but he hadn’t realized just how much.

Gingerly, Evelyn reached over to shut off the tap. It took another beat for Mike to set down the plate he’d been rinsing and reach for a hand towel. Unsure of what else to do, he huffed out a disbelieving laugh, scrubbing at his face and hoping he’d wake up from this fever dream.

He knew, without looking, that something was on the tip of Evelyn’s tongue. She was itching to say something, give him advice, though whether it was advice about Maddie or Ginny was a toss up.

Before she could, though, they were interrupted.

“All right, all right!” Ginny laughed over her shoulder before turning to Mike and Evelyn at the sink. Her laugh was still written all over her face, dimples fully on display and eyes dancing. “I’ve been sent to check on the progress of dessert.”

Evelyn was aghast. “Did Gabe and Marcus make you get up just for that? Gabriel! Marcus!”

“Oh, it wasn’t the kids,” Ginny replied dryly.

“I want pie!” Voorhies shouted from the dining room.

“Pie! Pie! Pie!” came an echoing chant, the high treble of his daughter just barely audible over everyone else.

Mike just shook his head, muttering, “Animals. I’m saddled with animals.” Still, he turned to the fridge and pulled out the waiting desserts while Evelyn went to restore order. Four entire pies that Mike was sure would be gone before the evening was over.

“Need a hand?” came a voice from right beside him. It wasn’t a surprise, though. All evening, he’d been almost unnaturally aware of just where Ginny was in relation to him. He did faintly wonder when he’d developed that ability, but also didn’t think that was really a rabbit hole he could afford to go down. Not with the revelation Evelyn had just dumped on him.

He turned towards Ginny and found her with her head tilted ever-so-slightly to the side. She smiled, as bright and open as ever and Mike had to blink to get over just how much she blew him away.

“Uh, yeah,” he finally managed. “Grab the little plates for me?”

They walked back into dining room, only to be greeted with raucous cheers (for the pies, of course). When they took their seats again, Ginny’s arm brushed up against his. She glanced at him for a moment, but aside a little quirk of her lips, didn’t acknowledge the contact. Still, she didn’t move away, not when she fell into conversation with Al on her other side and not while she demolished three slices of pie on her own. She didn’t move away until everyone left the table, and then, she leaned into him, more than just a sway to help heave herself up, before she went.

After she, and the rest of his guests, left, all Mike could think was that he definitely understood why Maddie was reluctant to admit that Miss Baker wouldn’t be in their life forever.

Arguably, it took Mike too long to set Maddie straight on the whole new mom thing. On Thanksgiving, she passed out before everyone had left, not even stirring when Mike picked her up from the couch and transferred her into her bed. Friday, Mike hadn’t quite figured out how to broach the subject, and Saturday, she spent most of the day with the Sanders boys.

It wasn’t until Sunday evening, the day before she was supposed to go back to school, that Mike was able to sit down with his little girl.

They’d just finished dinner and Maddie’d asked to be excused—she really had learned some manners.

“Actually, Mads, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

She shrugged, turning her trusting little face up to him. And why wouldn’t she trust him? He’d vowed to be the best dad possible, and he thought he’d done an okay job of it for not having any real example to follow.

“Okay, daddy,” she replied, folding her little hands on the table, elbows stuck out to the sides.

He smiled, utterly charmed by the picture she painted. Her little feet were probably swinging away under the table, too. Still, he couldn’t put this conversation off again. So, he took a deep breath and began, “Sweetheart, you know Miss Baker?”

Solemnly, she nodded, her attention unwavering. What he wouldn’t do for something to set off her short attention span. Something to distract her and send her careening away from the table. He could shrug and say he’d tried. Hope it all worked out for the best.

No such luck.

“Well,” he paused and had to will himself to barrel forward, “I wanted to know why you think Miss Baker and I are going to get married.”

All of a sudden, it was like Mike didn’t exist. She wouldn’t look him in the eye, no matter how low Mike hunched to get in her line of sight. Maddie was, at least, still single-minded in her intensity. “Can I go play?” she asked, edging off her chair.

“When we’re done talking.”

“There, you finished!”

“Mads,” he groaned, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

His little girl pouted, slumping in her chair.

“Now, please tell me why you think Miss Baker is going to marry me.”

“Because she is.”

“That’s not a reason, kid. You—” he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face “—you know we’re not really getting married, right? That’s just pretend?”

Maddie’s chin tipped up stubbornly. Still, Mike could see her lip begin to quiver. “It’s not pretend. You’re getting married and she’s going to be my new mommy.”

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s not true.”

Her shoulders began to shake and Mike felt like his own heart was breaking at the sight of the fat teardrops pooling in her eyes. He’d done that. Well, he and the the truth. Knowing he had about three seconds until a total meltdown, he slid around the table and gathered Maddie into his arms.

He’d just barely got his ass in the seat when the wailing started. Honestly, Mike wasn’t sure where his daughter learned to cry quite so theatrically, but it was impressive. He rubbed up and down her shuddering back, cradling her in his lap and not caring that she was definitely smearing snot and tears all over his shoulder. If she needed to cry this one out, he wasn’t about to stop her.

When the wailing died down, replaced mostly by sad little sniffles, Mike risked a question. “Which part is making you sad?”

He expected any number of replies. That they weren’t getting married. That Ginny wouldn’t be her mom. That she didn’t have a mom at all.

He didn’t think he could possibly have guessed her real answer in a million years.

Maddie peered up at him. Her little face was crumpled and red, tears still streaming down her cheeks. She took two, deep, juttery breaths, practically wheezing with the effort. Mike waited patiently, continuing to rub her back. Finally though, she managed to get out, “I don’t want Miss Baker to marry Jacob C’s uncle!”

“What?” Mike sputtered. He’d gotten pretty good at following the leaps in Maddie’s thought processes, but he was at a loss here.

“I told Jacob C. that his uncle can’t marry Miss Baker because she’s already going to marry you! But you say she’s not, so that means she has to marry him!” she collapsed, sobbing and drained, back against his shoulder.

Mike rubbed her back, soothing, but trying not to laugh at kindergarten logic. If this was all Maddie was worked up about, he felt just a tiny little bit less bad. Until he realized, Christ, he’d raised his kid to be as possessive as he was.

“Maddie, Miss Baker’s not going to marry anyone if she doesn’t want to.”

“But she wants to marry him!”

“Doesn’t that mean she probably doesn’t want to marry me, then?”

“She wants to marry you, too!” she mumbled stubbornly.

“What makes you think that, Mads?” he sighed, knowing it was pointless to just tell her she was wrong. His daughter was stubborn as hell. Mike wondered who she got it from…

She just shook her head, clinging tightly to his neck. Finally, after much coaxing, he got her to mutter something into his shirt.

“She smiles at us?” he checked, sure that couldn’t be right.

Maddie nodded, though, misery clinging to every inch of her tiny frame.

Again, Mike had to struggle to hold in a chuckle. His daughter the drama queen.

“You smile at Marcus and Gabe and all of your classmates. Does that mean you’re going to marry them?” A hesitant, short shake. “Okay. And how about me? I smile at lots of people. Your Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Blip, sometimes even at people I don’t know. Do you think I’m going to marry them?”

“No,” she admitted reluctantly, finally sitting up to frown at him. “But it’s different, daddy. She smiles different at you and Uncle Noah.”

Mike wasn’t sure how he felt about his kid calling some random man her uncle, but he got her point.

Strangely enough, it gave him hope, even if it should maybe have kickstarted that jealous streak. Just Livan saying a few words to her in Spanish had managed to set it off. Odd as it was, this news about a potential other guy in the picture didn’t really bother him in the least because maybe Mike had a shot with her. If Ginny liked him enough that even his kid could see it, maybe he hadn’t been imagining things. Maybe he hadn’t been getting his hopes up for nothing.

He didn’t tell Maddie, though. While he could handle dashed dreams—in fact, did every baseball season—he wasn’t going to risk subjecting his daughter to this heartache again.

Not until he knew for sure how Ginny felt, at least.

It was all well and good to resolve to have a grown up conversation with the woman he was rapidly developing feelings for. But, as anyone could tell you come February, it was one thing to resolve to do something and an entirely different thing to actually do it.

Which was how Mike made it to the middle of December, only a few days to go before winter break, without making any kind of headway. This was his last day volunteering of the semester.

Which was why he was still lingering in Ginny’s room as his daughter and her classmates ate in the cafeteria. He was supposed to go when they filed out for lunch, but Ginny hadn’t kicked him out and Mike wasn’t leaving until she did or he figured out what to do.

Urgency and a general lack of a game plan, unfortunately, hadn’t yet made for a winning combination, and now was no different.

“My daughter tells me I should be congratulating you.”

Ginny looked up from where she was organizing a stack of artwork to send home, a confused frown furrowing her brow. Mike could’ve kicked himself, but he’d already sunk this far, might as well keep digging.

“She’s under the impression that you’re marrying Jacob Casey’s uncle.”

“Ah,” she laughed, a muted flush darkening her cheek. “That’s the news on the kindergarten grapevine these days, huh?”

“So I hear.”

She busied herself straightening the stack, but peeked up at him, uncharacteristically shy. Cute as she was, Mike kind of missed her giving him shit.

“Noah Casey is a perfectly nice guy,” she said, standing from her desk and picking up the pile of drawings.

“I sense a but,” Mike said, not at all hopefully.

“But,” she continued, casting him an exasperated glance. “he’s not really my type. Now help me put these in the cubbies, and stop fishing for gossip.”

Mike could take a hint. He also took half the pile off Ginny’s hands and started divvying artwork into the appropriate cubbies. Some of it was suspect to say the least. He knew these were just kindergartners, but geez, how did Ginny manage to stay so positive with them?

“Oh!” she exclaimed, brandishing a familiar drawing at him. “Here’s Maddie’s family portrait. She showed you, didn’t she?”

“She did,” he assured, his attention caught on the curly haired figure standing next to the bearded one. Was this how long Maddie had been thinking Ginny would join their family? Sweet Jesus.

“It was nice getting to put faces to—well, drawings, I guess. At Thanksgiving. I thanked you for inviting me, didn’t I?”

She had. Mike had walked her to the door and wished her a safe drive home. She’d straightened from pulling on her sneakers and smiled at him, rocking forward on her toes and wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a quick hug, murmuring her thank you in his ear before she pulled away.

It was a miracle he’d managed to see her out without incident. Or without the snickers that broke out as soon as the door swung closed blowing his cover.

Without turning to Blip—because who else would it have been?—he’d muttered, “Shut up,” and gone to haul Maddie upstairs to her bedroom.

“You know that one’s supposed to be you, right?” he blurted rather than respond to her question. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wished the ground would open up beneath him and swallow him whole. It was turning into something of a theme today.

“Yeah,” she replied, smiling fondly down at the picture. “Maddie was so excited, she got out of her seat and ran up to my desk to show me. She told me that you were going to marry me and—”

“She what?” Mike sputtered, thrown for a loop.

“Oh,” she said, the picture of innocence. If he hadn’t spent the past three months getting to know her, he would’ve believed it, but the glimmer in her eye told Mike that Ginny knew exactly what she’d done. “Has she not told you this plan?”

“No, she has,” he wheezed. “I didn’t realize that she started with you, though.”

“It’s not so weird,” Ginny assured him, mischief melting into something softer. “Apparently, lots of kids with single dads think that about their teachers. I’ll take it as a compliment. I mean, I thought my kindergarten teacher was a witch all year. I still think that actually.”

Mike couldn’t help but laugh. It was laugh or worry himself sick over the fact that his five-year-old had decided to become his wingman.

“Well, I’m sorry if my daughter sexually harassed you on my account.”

That horsey laugh he’d become so fond of made an appearance. Ginny had to brace herself on her knees from the force of it. When she peeked up at him, her face red and eyes sparkling, Mike had to swallow down a few truly stupid urges.

Finally, she straightened, still giggling a little. “No, no! She actually made some solid arguments in your favor.”

“Did she?”

“Yeah. She said that you have a pool and you know how to make the best blanket forts and usually, you take just her to all the baseball games during the summer, but she was sure I could come, too.” Mike laughed a little disbelievingly at that, and Ginny joined in. “To be fair, I hadn’t realized you were an actual player at that point, so I just thought she might not realize how season tickets work.”

“She definitely doesn’t.”

“Well, either way, it was clear how much she loves you. Maddie would be a shark in sales.”

Mike blinked, wondering if he was reading too much into that. Had his kid sold her on him before they even met? And if she’d liked him to begin with, what did she think now that they actually knew each other?

“Would she?” he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral, but unable to keep his head from tilting to the side, giving away his curiosity.

Ginny’s attention slid over to him. For a long moment, she studied him out of the corner of her eye before going back to distributing the last pieces of art into the correct cubbies.

Just when he’d given up on getting a response, she murmured, “Well, I guess it’s not such a hard sell.”

It took every ounce of Mike’s willpower not to whirl on her at that. Instead, he calmly slid Emily P’s family portrait into her mailbox and turned calmly, sedately even, to face the teacher, his hands finally empty. Ginny was definitely blushing now, the high arches of her cheeks rosier than they had been before. Studiously, she kept her focus off of him, up until she, too, ran out of art to occupy her focus.

When her hands were empty, too, she dared a peek up at him and gulped when she saw Mike’s attention squarely on her. Only then did Mike ask, “Oh really?”

Her flush darkened and she swallowed. To her credit, though, she didn’t allow herself to look away, and even turned to face him head on.

In spite of her blush, her embarrassment, Ginny shrugged, almost managing nonchalance. “I mean, in spite of the fact that you’re constantly rolling your eyes at me and you’re really way too grumpy for someone who plays a kid’s game for a living and you refuse to put that creature on your face out of its misery, yeah, Mike. It’s not that hard to sell someone on you.”

His grin threatened to split his face in half it was so wide.

“You know,” he said, taking a step towards her and not bothering to tamp down on that wild grin, not even a little bit, “I think Maddie was trying to talk you up, too.”

Her head tipped back so she could keep her eyes firmly on his, but she didn’t back up. Not when it was her turn to ask, “Oh really?”

“Yep. She told me that you knew all the best games and read stories with the right voices and have a secret candy stash. And even though now I know you’re only in the teaching game so you can raise your own, mini feminist army—”

“Feminist army?” she laughed.

“And you just love to interrupt me,” he continued, grin still in place, “and are lying through your teeth about my beard, I can see that Maddie was maybe onto something.”

“Something, huh?” Ginny took her own step forward, the toes of her sneakers nearly bumping against Mike’s boots. Her face tilted up to his, dimples fully on display as she practically beamed up at him. The last time they’d been this close, Ginny’d hugged him and Mike hadn’t known what to do with himself. He still didn’t know what to do with himself, but he intended to get more than a hug.

As long as she was okay with it.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he warned, lips mere inches from hers, hands settling on her waist.

“You better,” she breathed, her own hands landing on his chest and sliding appreciatively up to his shoulders.

Agreement secured, Mike leaned in and sealed his mouth over hers.

He was fully aware, even as he pulled Ginny closer and nipped at her full bottom lip, that he really shouldn’t be making out with his daughter’s teacher in his daughter’s classroom during school hours. Anyone, from another teacher to the principal to, oh yeah, his daughter, could walk in on them. He couldn’t quite bring himself to care, though. Not with Ginny’s fingers stroking against his beard as she cradled his face. Especially not when she sighed into him, opening her mouth to his. Their tongues tangled together, neither a contest of wills nor a conquest, just gentle, curious exploration.

When they finally broke apart, Ginny hid her face in his chest, giggling a little helplessly as she caught her breath. He understood the feeling; he was pretty overwhelmed, too. Mike’s thumbs rubbed small circles into her sides, just below her rib cage, both to comfort and because he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

Her giggles died away, but she didn’t emerge from the front of his shirt. He leaned back to try and get some view of her face, but she rocked with him. It was his turn to chuckle. In retaliation, Ginny stepped on his foot.

“Hey!” he protested, not that she’d actually hurt him. “If that’s how it’s gonna be, then maybe I shouldn’t ask you out to dinner over the break.”

That finally got her to look up. It’d hardly been five minutes, but seeing her face again was such a relief. What kind of magic was that?

“After that,” she countered through swollen lips, leaving no doubt to what she meant, “you better.”

It took a few years, but Mike eventually paid her back for that.

In the space between the officiant asking, “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” and Ginny’s response he mouthed the words back at her.

You better.

Even with all the time between that day and this, all the memories they’d created together, Mike watched the recollection click and her smile grow even wider.

Eyes sparkling as brightly as the day he met her—as stunned as he’d been that day, it had nothing on the depth of his feelings now—Ginny responded, nearly overflowing with joy, “I do.”

This time, Mike wasn’t going to wait to be told he could kiss her. Instead, he drew his wife—his wife!—forward and was well ahead of the curve by the time he heard, “You may now kiss the bride.”

Judging by the way Ginny laughed into his mouth, she didn’t mind one bit.

#mindykahling #Bawson #Bawson fic #Pitch #Pitch fic #this is the fluffiest #seriously i gave myself a toothache #and i loved every second of it

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theknowledgehouse-blog · 5 years

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Chamelia and the New Kid in Class

Hello parents! The Knowledge House is back with another great recommendation for your little ones! Are you a parent of a 5 or 6-year-old? Maybe they are attending daycare or already in kindergarten? Then Chamelia and the New Kid in Class, written and illustrated by Ethan Long, is a great read for you and your little chameleon! The theme of this book focuses on Chamelia the chameleon as she meets the new kid in class, Cooper, and how they become friends. This is an excellent book that young kids in pre-school can relate to with fun and colourful illustrations!

Chamelia and the New Kid in Class is about a little chameleon who is the star of her class. Chamelia is very outgoing and loves to be the center of attention. She enjoys showing off to she classmates through song and dance. One day, Chamelia’s teacher tells the class that they have a new student and his name is Cooper. Chamelia is not happy with Cooper because it is the first time, she is not the star student. Chamelia’s classmates are excited to be around Cooper and during art time, ask him to draw their portraits. During show and tell, Chamelia beings to distract Cooper by yawning at him and blowing raspberries his way. This really upsets Cooper and Chamelia begins to realize that her actions and behaviour towards Cooper have not been nice at all. Chamelia begins to change her attitude and cheers Cooper on which leads them to becoming best friends.

This book is great for enhancing and development of children’s social skills and manners. The context of the story is done through a basic story arc with a beginning, middle and end. The basic story arc helps children with cognitive development and understanding other perspectives. Chamelia and the New Kid in Class also works on the narrative skills of children as they can relate to the experience of both characters in the book. This book uses the literature as a mirror teaching as the experiences are ones that children understand and helps with their psychosocial development. This book is also a great teaching tool for social and moral skills, the book demonstrates how having a bad attitude makes others around you upset and how to be a supporting and loving friend.

A great way to introduce this book to your child is by asking them questions like “Do you remember what is was like your first day of school?” “Were you nervous? Excited? happy?” or if you have a child who is starting at a new school you can ask “Do you remember what it was like being the new kid in class?” “How did you feel the first day?” You can then introduce the idea of the book, how the story is about two chameleons, one of them being a new kid in class and see if they will become friends. There is a part in the book when Chamelia starts to sing and dance and parents can act these out for their children if they want to make it silly and entertaining.

One extension activity that can be followed up with this book is a portrait drawing exercise. In the book, Cooper and Chamelia draw their classmates, parents can have their child draw pictures of family members of portraits of their best friends. They can make silly drawings with crayons or pencil crayons and give them to family or friends. Another activity that can be done is a song and dance exercise which will get kids moving and laughing. Chamelia tells everyone about her summer vacation through song and dance and parents can sing songs like “The Wheels on the Bus” or make up a song as they go along. This would give kids a chance to get creative with their vocabulary skills and they can make up dances to go along with their songs. Children this age have a lot of energy and creative minds, so activates that allow them to express themselves through art or music is another great way to promote imagination and play.

This is a great book to read to your little ones with colourful pages, little text and a great moral at the end! There are places throughout the book that parents can ask questions to their kids or to act out silly parts that will have children laughing! The story line is easily relatable, and children will be able to understand how their actions effect those around them. Chamelia and the New Kid in Class has a great lesson for children and can be enjoyed even if they are already in school. Snuggle up with your little chameleon and learn all about how Chamelia and Cooper become best friends!

-Jessica Snache

#JessicaTheKnowledgeHouse

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vogel-lynne · 6 years

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The taste of Rebellion - Chapter 5

Johnny took off his tie as he reached classroom door. He wasn't the only one to break the rules at school: some wore funny tees under their shirts, others had their backpack covered in pins and writings. Teachers tried their best to maintain order, reporting any irregularity that could be spotted, but students were way too cunning and dressed normally the following day.

Johnny found his usual place in the last row and opened his copybook, looking for a portrait of Liam he had started a few days before. He hadn't the same skills as Olivier, who had a big interest in art and received a special education about it, alongside a culinary one. The Scottish boy tried to draw Liam, but the singer's elbow was unnaturally bent and his eyes visibly asymmetric. He gave it up, as he saw how paper was ruined by excessive rubbings, and decided to write him a letter

"Dear Liam

I hope somehow this message will reach you. I'm a big fan of yours, my name is Johnny, I'm 16 years old. My family name might sound familiar, since my father is an important man who even got to meet her majesty Queen Elizabeth. I guess you're wondering how could a highborn offspring like me discover your music and enjoy it...Well, I need to say it is a way to escape this society, where I don't want to be anymore, and change frequency..."

"Hey hey hey! McGregor's love affair!" Shouted Bruce Wallis, captain of the school's rugby team and Johnny's worst enemy since kindergarten began. He could never forget the big boy purposely hitting him during a ball game after stealing his lunch portion.

"This is me if I were cooler!" Bruce's friends surrounded Johnny and grabbed his precious sheet.

"I hope somehow you'll read this...HaHaha! Johnny has a girlfriend!"

The young redhead couldn't handle this undeserved treatment!

Paul R. Thatcher's nose transformed into a bloody fountain as Johnny's punch rushed to his face. He had already brawled another hundred times for known and unknown reasons. For instance when a younger mate laughed at his hair or when he was provoked for placing fourth at a tennis competition.

"Johnny is totally nuts! A psycho! He hurt me!"

"McGregor!" A janitor entered to lead him to head teacher's office. All his classmates stared at him as if he was turning into an alien -that he actually was, for them-

"You are gonna tell Principal Hastings your story!"

"McGregor" Worthington institute's overweight head teacher observed the student through his small vintage glasses: "take a look around"

His quaint, heavy office in the shades of brown, dark green and burgundy had many ancient, expensive rarities, such as an old ivory dagger, Chinese manufactured plates, a map of east India from XIX century. On the walls, photographs of former students whose careers were successful seemed to judge Johnny for his actions: "I feel sincerely heartbroken to declare your exclusion due to..." Mr Hastings pointed them one by one.

"Look at all the F*cks I'm giving!"

Johnny opened wide his arms, feeling that powerful flame of his hair finally bursting out.

"Adjust your uniform!" Commanded the old man: "and calm yersel'!" His pipe fell off and ashes stained the wooden writing desk.

"Listen to me instead! I have to inform you about a few facts! C. Carlson used to terrorise and bully first year students and F. Burkett was in a drug-dealing gang! Another boy spent a whole day hidden in a toilet, for he was afraid of Bruce Wallis!"

"Stop with this! Haud yer weesht or I'll have to call your parents!"

Harvey entered and listened silently to Mr Hastings' scolding. He even kept quiet while driving home, where Johnny's uniform quickly fell untidy on the bedroom floor as he got in bed with one of Liberty's unplugged rarities on

"You saved me

When everyone else was pretending

I was invisible"

He loved Liam Rixton's introverted side as well, for its contrast with the witty rock warrior often showed. Like Johnny the armoured beyblade champion versus that boy whispering lyrics underneath the covers.

Nobody knew who the song was written for: some theorized a woman he loved, others said it was for his friends or fans, but Liam confirmed none of these interpretations.

The answer is blowing in the wind...

#the taste of rebellion #beyblade #beyblade 2000 #fanfiction #fanfic #johnny mcgregor #olivier boulanger #bob dylan #blowing in the wind #how many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man

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tegwin · 7 years

Text

The Counterfeit - Chapter Five

The stranger seems to be rather handy, when it comes down to drawing. And he seems not so in love with that painting anymore, if you look what´s inside his bag. So he might be a kind of painter after all? Let´s see.

*******************************

"You must think me really obsessed." he said over the rim of his cup. "Always in front of the same image, day after day.". He grinned. "Well, as I said, you are just an art lover. Or a student." I objected as a possible explanation for his behavior. Probably also to stop that nagging voice inside of me and to relieve my doubts by his answer. But he said nothing. "So, you are a student?" I asked. After a long silence he said, "Yes. I am.". But his voice was rough as he said it and I couldn´t help but wonder why that had taken him so long. We looked at each other for a while. He had a broad face with a nearly square forehead. Strong eyebrows. His chin graced by a three-day beard. And that boyish grin that lit his green eyes and that was so contagious. Without even noticing it I began to smile back at him. "I'm James by the way." he introduced himself. And again he flickered another smile at me. "James, the Manet man," I said. He tilted his head. While I just gave a wave of my hand. "The Manet man?". "Yes, that is the nickname Hannah, the lady from the Museum staff, has given you." I hastened to explain myself. "James the Manet man.". He laughed. Deep and melodic. "That's good. That's really good. I think I'll write that into my CV. That could be good for my reputation.". Then he was suddenly serious again. "Some day maybe." he said. "And now, who and what are you, when you´re not bound to play the kindergarten teacher?". "Grace. My name is Grace. And I'm museum educator. I'm doing tours for visitors and for special occasions." I explained. He took a sip of coffee. "That sounds like a responsible position." he said. I nodded slightly. "Then you have studied art?". "History of art." I answered. He looked at me admiringly. "History of art. That's ..." "A rather unprofitable study field, yes." I interrupted and laughed. He joined in. "Thats not what I wanted to say." he hastened to say. "That would have been rather impolite, if I would have said so.". "Yes." I meant. "It would have been.". We laughed for a few minutes more.

"What drove you towards the art?" I asked. He choked on his coffee. "I .." he trailed off. "You really have to have a story." I insisted as he made no attempt to answer. "Do I?". Now he seemed reluctant and I regretted it almost to have been asking the question. "Yes, everyone has one. I mean, no one does simply decide out of thin air one day to study such a thing like art. If you decide to study something so philosophical, so non profit, then there is always a story behind that decision." When he still gave no answer I added: "At least in my experience. I think its a bit the same with all of us. Isn´t it? After all one must have a good reason for straying of the path and to give to the rest of the world, that will surely ask why someone would study anything so useless, a good explanation." He nodded and replied: "Yes, that's true.". "So, what's yours?". "You're not curious at all?" he replied, but his eyes flashed now coltish again. I knew he wasn´t mad at for me asking such questions anymore. "Let's make a deal." he offered. "Show me yours and I´ll show you mine.". He waited for my reaction. "Good, o.k." I relented. "I mean, although I have nothing exciting to say, but if you want to hear it.".

"My grandmother was an artist. When I was little. And I loved the smell that always hung in her house. From the colors and solvents. ". He looked dreamily. Then he laughed without forewarning. "Most people would have probably said it stank like the plague. But that's like the smell of petrol.". He paused and then said, and I fell in: ". Either you like it or you hate it." We both laughed. "I love the smell of petrol." I said cheerfully. "No wonder. Otherwise you would have hardly survived your study years." he thought. "Oh, it really has nothing to do with painting. It's more about the how, as for real painting.". He was surprised. "That means you have not painted while studying?". "No." I said. "I always thought that you would have to do that.". Now he was really confused. "How are you able to understand what you see and to cherish what you see, if you know nothing about how it was made and with what kind of problems the artist had to deals? How will you understand, if you do not know what it meant to the master?". I laughed. "Pretty sure you where the professors pet then.". He swallowed. "Yes sure." he said gruffly. Somehow I could not shake the feeling that it was unpleasant to him to talk about his studies. That's why I came back to the story he´d just begun telling me. "And your grandmother was a great artist. She lived alone in a romantic house, that was canary with green shutters. You were with her every summer when the poppies bloomed all around and admired her for her wonderful pictures." I teased him. He twisted his mouth. "No. I hated her for what she painted and how she did it.". He wrinkled his nose. "I found that it wasn´t doing justice to art. Besides painting she had in fact a soft spot for baby animals. And she then painted those in all possible poses and with all sorts of backgrounds. Do you know those terribly sweet kittens? That are set among balls of wool and such stuff? ". I laughed. "You can not be serious!". "Yes. Unfortunately I am." he sighed. He looked at me with big sad eyes. "Oh you poor thing." I gave him a wide smile and made a decision. About him, about me,us and about that portrait and us having a coffee. So I reached out across the table to him. He winced when I fleetingly touched his arm and laid my hand on it. But he did not pull it away.

"So that's how I got my first lessons about art.". He nodded and took a sip of coffee. "But, in hindsight it was not so bad. After all, I already knew something I did not want to do.". "Not bad.". "Oh, and she neither had a house surrounded by poppies." he informed me. "She lived in a social housing. Dirty and run down. Her pension was just enough to pay the rent.". "Oh." was all I could say. "Yes, that's why I have long struggled with whether I should really start studying art and start painting or not. People have always said I had a talent for it and a good eye. And those are known to be the most important, or at least some of the key pre-requisites for it. But my family did not like that I´d take that route. Like you said earlier. Why would anyone in his right mind make a job that´s not making any money?". He shrugged his shoulders and looked at me apologetically. "I know that one too." I reassured him.

"Well, that's why I started with a real profession. In the Insurance business.". Now I was stunned. "Insurance business? Really? And that´s worth it? Do you actually make money with that one?". "Yes, well not in the beginning. But once you have enough experience and are specialized then you can find a job in the higher ranks. With the important people and the important stuff. Which is good paid as well as interesting.". A smirk graced his face as if he had won the lottery. And I felt a sudden heat on the back of my hand. When I looked down, I saw his fingers gently sweep over mine. "I didn´t know that." I said uncertainly. I watched him how he was on fire for something that was such a bleak job to me. "Is it not it rather boring and much paperwork?". "Not if you are dealing with the right people and the right insurance objects." he suggested. Now he´d hooked me. "I'm sorry, but I can not give details of prices. Just this, art is much valubale to a lot of people. And some sleep better if they knows that his stuff is in good hands." he said mysteriously. "You insured paintings?" I blurrted out. "Amongst other things.". "Well, now it is clear to me, why are you raving about your job that way.". I thought about it. "And so you can make that much money with that that you dont have to work anymore?" I remembered when I asked that he spent more time at my working place than rather at his. He laughed. "You have no idea, do you?" he said, and now I felt a little silly. "Of course, you can live well by the commission. So I did what I had to do." He winked at me. "I've worked good, like my family wanted me too. I managed to save a good deal for bad days or for projects. In order to pursue my own plans, my studies.". He laughed again and squeezed my hand. I looked puzzled. "Oh." I said in amazement. "You should see your face right now. What do you think I've done? Do you think I made an insurance first in order to steal and sell them. later on after having gained some insight into the security measures they'd taken? And that I'm rich right now? A millionaire, made by stealing?". He burst out laughing,his green eyes shining like a lake in full sunlight. He loosened his grip on my hand and let go of it. In one fluid motion he bent down, grabbed his sketch block and pencil from his pencil case. And before I could count to three he was busy scribbling. "Stop it." I said a little upset because I had a vague idea what he outlined there. It was enough to me that he thought I was naive. But I thought it unnecessary to put it forever on paper. It was more than I could bare. "Don't worry. You're not the only and first one to make that kind of face when you're told about what I'm doing for a living." he just joked and scribbled on.

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tribelamag-blog · 7 years

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http://tribelamagazine.com/art-today-10-26-17-before-they-go-the-venice-wabi-sabi-restaurant-is-a-great-place-to-view-15-venice-artists-in-their-studios-exhibit-by-debbie-zeitman/ TribeLA Magazine • Los Angeles I wish everyone who isn’t battling immediate survival would slow down, kindly ingest the world that surrounds them, and think of ways they can help build community. To tread with greater care on the planet. #Arttoday #Deezeephotography

New Post has been published on http://tribelamagazine.com/art-today-10-26-17-before-they-go-the-venice-wabi-sabi-restaurant-is-a-great-place-to-view-15-venice-artists-in-their-studios-exhibit-by-debbie-zeitman/

ART TODAY 10.26.17 Before They Go: The Venice Wabi-Sabi restaurant is a great place to view 15 "Venice Artists in their Studios" exhibit by Debbie Zeitman

Deborah Reilly Photographed and Interviewed by Debbie Zeitman

TribeLA Magazine Acrostic Interview.4 with Debbie Zeitman

Aura: How would you describe your energy, style, etc.? I’m very casual and my favorite place to sit is cross-legged on the floor as if I’m in kindergarten. By nature I’m an observer. My eyes zero in on all around me, as do my ears. Images and words lure me in. I aim to capture the experience of being alive. How grandiose does that sound?

Room: Where in your home do you work? If not in your home, where do you feel most compelled to create? My entire home is my workspace. Most often I can be found on my couch in my living room with a Lapdesk and laptop when I’m editing photos or writing. I move to the loft above for printing (and when I play with paint on a canvas). When I do shoots for clients in my home, I use odd surfaces and wall colors as well as the surrounding walkstreets for the unique backdrops they offer. But in my photo life in general, my creating takes place out in the world rather than in a studio.

Tools: What do you prefer to work with, physically and otherwise? These days I mostly use digital cameras, though my film cameras still come out to play from time to time. I write on a laptop and with inexpensive fountain pens on unlined paper because I don’t like the restrictions of lines. And I play with paint and wire and found objects, anything that sparks me. My cell phone is always with me because I get inspired at the oddest moments, often in the midst of a run, and that means I can make a photo or write in the notes app. I shudder that I could lose the thought.

I wish everyone who isn’t battling immediate survival would slow down, kindly ingest the world that surrounds them, and think of ways they can help build community. To tread with greater care on the planet. To mitigate anger with compassion, which is starting to sound cliché but is so vital at this time. And to go vegan for the sake of the animals and the world.

Deborah Reilly “Everyone needs art. It’s a way of cultivating compassion with humanity.” Deborah began her portrait-a-day project back in August 2016, painting those she admires. “It’s been my daily meditation, a willful way of focusing on the good.” Another goal of the project is to improve her portrait skills. “My original love with art is abstract.” While she could draw people, Deborah says she always had a really hard time capturing an actual likeness of someone. This project has helped her improve a lot.

“As a kid all I wanted to do was paint and draw,” but Deborah says she gave it up because she couldn’t do realism and her abstraction was labeled as childish. But abandoning art brought on panic attacks and insomnia. Eventually they subsided when she took up art again in her early 20s. “I reached for Crayola watercolors and just started painting abstracts. And it released – just seeing color come out of my body.”

A children’s book author, Deborah is working on her second book. Her first book, “The Collected Writings of A. Morkus Dog,” features drawings and ‘the words of’ her own rescue dog. “Writing and images has always been synonymous. In my writing and sketchbooks – it’s always together.”

Along with her personal art pursuit, Deborah is a passionate art teacher at Kenter Canyon elementary school and at Virginia Park in Santa Monica. “I liken my teaching style to yoga. We start where you are and go from there.” She’s grateful for her schedule of teaching Monday through Wednesday and having Thursday and Friday to work in her home studio. “I got really lucky. I wanted that age group and I wanted these days.” Deborah says she always knew she wanted to teach. “The teaching feeds me as well. If I didn’t need this for money, I’d be volunteering.” She sees the importance of being there for the kids who are told they aren’t artists, and tells her students, “You’re all artists. You just have to find your way.”

Debbie Zeitman has photographed over 50 Venice Artists and still counting. Fifteen artist portraits and stories are hanging at Wabi Venice (1635 Abbot Kinney Blvd in Venice). Her photographic life began as a freelance photographer for the Associated Press covering primarily sports. Now her eyes drift to life’s everyday rich details, whether tiny or grand. She also spends an extraordinary amount of time trying to capture the meaningful expressions of shelter dogs and cats in an attempt to get them to safety and into permanent homes. In addition, Debbie advocates for all animals and lives a vegan lifestyle.

To follow the Venice Artists project on instagram, click here: https://www.instagram.com/beforetheygo/

View Zeitman’s other projects at these links: http://deezeephotography.com https://www.instagram.com/deezeephotography/

Get caught up with Artist of the Week Debbie Zeitman and her “Before They Go” anthology

http://tribelamagazine.com/art-today-10-22-17-before-they-go-debbie-zeitman-meet-venice-artist-judy-nimtz/

http://tribelamagazine.com/art-today-10-23-17-venice-artists-spaces-debbie-zeitman-acrostic-interview-starts-today/

http://tribelamagazine.com/art-today-10-24-17-before-they-go-debbie-zeitman-photographed-and-interviewed-over-50-venice-artists-for-this-project-her-stories-are-astounding/

http://tribelamagazine.com/art-today-10-25-17-before-they-go-venice-artists-a-diversity-of-styles-camera-debbiezeitman/

#arttoday #deezeephotography

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shaoyinzhang · 6 years

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He is My Idol

I stared learning drawing when I was 3 years old in the kindergarten, and I met Pablo Picasso when I was 4 years old in a picture album of my art teacher totally by accident. It was a classic of Picasso, and it made the me, a four years old kid, become more confident in painting. I am so confident that my painting is absolutely at the same level with the painting on the picture album. “I must be the good artist!” I believed that in 4 years old. The picture on that picture album is a classic painting of Picasso: “bull”. At that age, many things were not clear, but my mother told me that I often painted strange shapes and distorted animals to ask praise of the teachers and parents that time. I was pretty shamed to know that story when I was 15 years old, and at that time, I am a good student in my art training school be praised by many art teachers of mine. I could already copy the portrait and many other grate paintings of Pablo Picasso at that time. At that time I was so proud that many people praised me for my painting. Until one day, as usual, I showed my copy to an uncle who was a graphic design. But the answer is not the compliment I expected. My uncle asked me, "these are all other's paintings. What about your own? " I froze. Yes, I was wrong. I was just a good student, not a great artist. I painted the same work as thousands of fine arts students. What were I proud of?

I was an artist actually when I was four, but I was just a good student like a sheep when I was fifteen. I should not be shamed when I heard I have painted the distorted paintings, but I should shamed when I am proud of the copy of grate paintings. Pablo Picasso said that “Every child is an artist, and the key to the problem lies in how he is still an artist when he grows up. I can draw as well as Rafael at 14, then I use my life to learn to draw like a child.” An artist should be creative and be inspired, but most art students these days are only the sheep who always conform the order by true grate artist or even only their teachers who are the sheep without their own paintings as well. They are workers and good students who could perfectly use the ways or styles created by great artist paint some still life, plaster sculptures, or models. But they do not have their own feelings, thoughts, or expressions. Unfortunately, they could be inspired and creative when they are children, but as they trained and brainwashed by society and school, they gradually lose this precious ability. After noticing that, I told myself that I need to find that creativity back like Pablo Picasso, and make a change from the portrait of 15 years old Picasso to the portrait of 25 years old Picasso which has a distinct personality and inspired characteristic.

Since then, I occasionally copy the basis of the one or two painting practice, and put more time to consolidate my own style of painting and create my own short comics. Even though it is really hard at the beginning, because I have been trained as a sheep who could only follow the order and copy others, gradually, my creative paintings are also recognized by more and more friends and teachers. I began to master my own painting style and experience skills. Day after day, I began to be complacent again. I am used to the expression of the sketch, because I can't conquer the color skillfully yet. For a long time, my paintings were all black and white. More and more friends ask me why, but I just ignored and insist my own way stubbornly. Until I read one of Picasso's words, I felt into thought again: “I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it.” Suddenly, I was shamed that I reject color because I am not good at it. I thought if Pablo Picasso could not do something well, he must try him best to try and learn until he could finally master it. I told myself that I have to change, I have to try new things, and I have to rebel the old me, in order to create a new one. Be changeable is important to artist, and “change” is a key word of being a great artist like Pablo Picasso. Someone ask for the representative work of Pablo Picasso, and the other guy replied with a smile: Which Pablo Picasso? Isn’t it sounds like crazy? But we do have the Pablo Picasso in Blue Period, in Rose Period, in African-influenced Period, in Analytic Cubism, in Synthetic Cubism, and in Crystal Period. We have multiple different Picasso, and each Picasso is a total better new one compared to the last one. This change is a combination of life experience and social change, and every change is like the nirvana of the Phoenix. The old style burned and died in the fire, and the better new painting born in the ashes. Only keeping changing could help artist have endless inspiration, and since that, he could be the first painter in the history to see his own works and be collected into Le Louvre Museum by himself. Now, even though I could not use brush as well as I use my pencil, I am still trying to use color to create the different painting style of mine. However, this is only the second change I have made in my painting life, I will definitely keep changing and be always inspired to create my own paintings.

#art

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