today’s doodle… got incredibly out of hand. @kengoa once asked me what Soren’s dream job would be and I said he would be a theoretical physicist that taught at a university.
this was four score and seven yonks ago when I thought ‘hmmm, wouldn’t it be neat to draw Soren as a Human?’
It was not neat. It was painful and torturous and I still can’t get the eyes right but after much internal conflict I have decided that I simply can’t be bothered to see this to photo realism so it’s gonna have to stay in that uncanny valley of semirealistic cartoony garbage nonsense which is my art style.
Thanks to jaggedviews I finally cracked a wrote a fanfic… Or the start of a fanfic, depending on… things…
Okay, based on the Tumblr prompt: I’m a barista and you’re the obnoxious customer who comes through and orders a venti macchiato while talking on the phone the whole time so I misspell your name in increasingly creative ways every day AU. If you wanna read it on FFN x.
There she was again, last one in line in her fancy red and gray business suit. Talking on her cell phone, like Korra knew she’d continue to do even as she ordered her venti macchiato. She did the same thing every morning. Showed up in the middle of morning rush and refused to hang up whatever important business call she was on even while she ordered. It didn’t really slow the line that much, but it was so awkward interrupting serious talk about ‘product launch’s and ‘board meeting’s with ‘hi, what can I get for you?’
At first Korra stopped asking what the woman wanted and just stood there, waiting until she got a pause in conversation, put her hand over the phone, and whispered the order over the counter. It didn’t matter much that the woman gave an apologetic smile as she whispered. Or that she had flawless black hair and incredible green eyes. Or that her smile was both gorgeous and cute. Okay… she was hot. Really, really hot, and clearly successful. But rude. Hotness was no excuse for talking on the phone while you’re supposed to be ordering your coffee.
So Korra started messing around and purposefully misspelling her name. Asamee. Uhsami. Asamay. Samamy. She actually started looking forward to it, and spent all morning trying to come up with another clever name. So when the woman finally arrived at the back of the line, she actually got excited instead of being annoyed, because Korra was prepared. She was prepared enough that while the person at the head of the line pondered their order she grabbed a venti cup, prematurely writing Asami’s ‘macchiato’ with the name ‘Salami.’ She set the cup aside and took the order of the next handful of patrons, already so amused she was smiling.
But then as Asami reached the second place in line Korra heard her say, “got to go, see you in a bit,” and actually hung up the call. That’s not what was supposed to happen, because then Asami reached the front of the line and flashed that smile and it wasn’t apologetic this time. It was… crap. It was smug. “Morning,” and she glanced at Korra’s nametag as if she hadn’t been coming here for months and just been too oblivious to look at it sooner, “Korra.” It was so unexpected, such a deviation from the routine that Korra just blinked at her for a few seconds while one of Asami’s eyebrows steadily rose, waiting for a response. When Korra failed to spit the usual greeting Asami said, “I’ll take a venti macchiato please.”
She said please. Politely. Korra snapped back to it and reached not for the pre-arranged cup, but for a fresh one. She couldn’t possibly enact revenge. Not when Asami had hung up and had that coy smile like she knew Korra had been messing with her for weeks and why. And she said please. But just when Korra reached for a new cup Asami glanced down, catching a glimpse of the one she’d set aside.
“Isn’t that mine?” she asked, probably catching a glimpse of the ‘ami,’ and reached for the cup before Korra could snatch it. Asami pulled it close and spun it in her hand to see what was written, and as her brilliant green eyes ran back and forth over it Korra’s cheeks burned hotter and hotter. Asami wasn’t being rude now. It was Korra. Korra was being rude because she’d purposefully written a lunch meat instead of the customer’s actual name, and oh god Asami’s eyes read the name and then left the cup to meet Korra’s. “Well,” she said, setting the cup back on the counter and putting a hand on her hip, “You got the order right.”
“I’m so sorry,” Korra blurted. Her hand shot out to grab the cup and without looking she threw it backwards over her shoulder. She heard it land on the cluttered tea counter behind her and knock something down. She winced at the loud clutter that hit the floor, cheeks shading darker as she said, “That was unprofessional and stupid and-”
“Here,” interrupted one of the other baristas, and he set the cup Korra had thrown back on the counter with an indignant glare. “You dropped this.”
Asami laughed. Like, an actual giggle, and she wasn’t smug anymore but genuinely amused. She reached out to take the stupid offensive cup and pulled it to her, but then she stretched across the counter again to grab a fresh one and she took the pen right out of Korra’s hand. Korra was confused and embarrassed and so put off when Asami’s fingers brushed hers. She was flustered, legitimately blushing and flustered.
“I think Asamay was my favorite,” Asami said lightheartedly, scribbling on the fresh cup and then handing it back. She’d written her own order with her name spelled correctly. “But it’s getting increasingly hard to recognize when they call my name.” Korra set the cup aside for another barista to grab and make Asami’s drink, too embarrassed to say anything. “Not sure I’d have ever guessed who Salami was.”
“I’m sorry,” Korra said again, distractedly punching the order into the register while Asami started to scribble on the offensive cup. “It’s just you always come in earlier when it’s busy and you’re on the phone so I didn’t think you noticed and-” as she bumbled Asami finished writing and handed the pen back. “Thanks.” Korra couldn’t see what she’d written, the inked side of the cup was facing the opposite direction, and so she read off the register, “Four dollars and fifty cents.”
As Asami handed over her card her phone started ringing. Korra expected her to answer it, but Asami simply looked at the caller ID, glanced at her watch, and let out a soft sigh as she hit decline.
“You’re running late this morning?” Korra asked, returning the card and finally feeling the heat in her cheeks returning to normal.
“I almost didn’t come in for coffee,” Asami confirmed, and her lips curled into a teasing smile. “I didn’t want to miss out on your latest misspelling though.”
“I’m sorry,” Korra whined, but when Asami laughed at her she couldn’t help but chuckle. Asami was nothing like she would’ve expected. She was late but she wasn’t rushing anything, and she didn’t take herself seriously enough to be angry about Korra’s stupid revenge. “You keeping that as a souvenir?” Korra nodded toward the salami cup.
“Asami,” called one of the other baristas, holding up the venti macchiato.
“This is for you, actually,” Asami said, pushing the cup across the counter. She flashed a parting smile, saying as she went to retrieve her drink, “See you tomorrow, Korra.”
Korra watched as Asami grabbed her macchiato and hurried out the door. It wasn’t until she was gone that Korra picked up the cup to see what was different. At seeing the seven digits written beneath ‘Salami’ her cheeks flushed again. Her phone number. Weeks of purposefully misspelling Asami’s name had earned Korra her phone number? She hadn’t even considered the fact that her casual revenge might seem flirtatious, but if it did she definitely wasn’t complaining. She was so unexpectedly delighted she let out a quiet squeal and spun in a happy circle, blushing darker as she faced forward again to meet a bewildered customer.
“Hi,” Korra greeted the customer, distractedly hurrying to write the number down on a piece of receipt that she could shove into her pocket. “What can I get for you?”
It took everything Korra had to wait until the end of the day to put that number to use. When it came down to it, she really only had the patience to wait until the end of her shift. She’d hardly hung up her apron when she punched in Asami’s number and a text that said, ‘I’ve got a venti macchiato for Salami. When’s she free?’ It was only early afternoon, but maybe they could grab a coffee later tonight when Asami got off work…
Korra didn’t live far, so as she walked home she held her phone in her hand, waiting for a text back. It didn’t come, not the entire twenty-minute walk, and by the time Korra reached her apartment she was panicking. Stupid. She shouldn’t have purposefully misspelled Asami’s name again, in a text to her. So stupid. She got home and didn’t bother saying hi to Mako or Bolin and sank into the couch. She put the phone on the couch next to her and sulked while absentmindedly watching TV. So dumb.
It took an hour. A whole torturous hour during which Korra considered how stupid it was to sulk like this when she’d never even thought about a date with Asami. Then the phone vibrated next to her. It was in her hands and unlocked in the blink of an eye.
‘Sorry,’ the message read, ‘crazy busy at work. I don’t suppose you deliver?’
One of Korra’s eyebrows ascended to her hairline. Deliver? As in Asami was actually asking if Korra could come to her place of business with coffee… did that count as a date? She punched in her response, ‘I’m a dedicated barista who is willing to make an exception.’
It didn’t take nearly as long to get a reply this time, and a minute later Asami had texted back. ‘Future Industries, ask for Asami.’ Before Korra could reply a second message came in, ‘Make sure you’ve got a drink too. IOU, on me.’
Korra grinned, flying off the couch and heading for the front door. ‘See you soon.’