#i considered shading. or trying to move background elements

[invaderfuzzytalon]

finished my first test animation in blender's grease pencil :)

[stealcorpses83]

Your Mustsumi piece is really stylish! How did you do the backgrounds and come up with the composition?

Thank you so much! :-) I feel it's appropriate to respond to this ask on Mutsumi's birthday hehe. Forgive my weird wording btw (if it seeps in) as I am unfortunately strange like that (and feel free to ask away any questions!)

Summary: Modify already existing patterns, the darker your white is the better (trust), focus on the focal point, and Man I fucking love triangles.

First on the background (with a hint of color theory):

I took it from the Ibis Paint X image-archive-thing (???). It's actually a nice resource for stuff like this. If you use a different drawing platform try looking for your own in-app/in-program archive or consider searching online. In Ibis Paint X, not all patterns are available for non-premium users but personally it's not much of an issue (especially since non-premium versions of these textures tend to exist, with different colorings).

There are tons of these available by looking into the Japanese Texture (Color), Cloth Patterns (Color) and Patterns (Color) sections. Personally I prefer to alter the already colored ones as they are easier to work with, while the Gray/B&W ones require more retouching with blend mode layers. However, feel free to experiment and use whatever works best for you.

I was lucky to find one with a similar color palette to my drawing, but there's still some tweaking to be done to make it darker and warmer (as stated in the image). In this drawing it was relatively straightforward, though I've previously had to make more detailed modifications in other ones to make everything blend in naturally (mainly painting over different elements and particular shapes).

There's no rule for the specific blend modes –as in, they don't necessarily have to be multiply + darken, and there's no need to restrict yourself to solely 2 layers either. The same could be said about the opacity. It's merely situational. Instead, try playing around with them and/or learn how each one works to be able to pick them quicker.

For example, once I had applied the multiply layer something still felt off: there was a lack of ocre tones, which had been cancelled by the purple-ish color I painted it all over with. I especially wanted the darker colors to lean towards purple, while making the lighter ones lean towards green, so I applied a green darken layer which mainly affects the tones closer to white.

On a separate note: Color theory yay!! I freaking love color theory!!! As you can see in the bottom corner, I didn't use (and don't tend to ever use) pure white (#FFFFFF) or pure black (#000000). Actually, some artists will strongly advise against doing so, saying it looks beginner-like and muddy. I slightly disagree with this, or at least I think it's a bad way to put it (I mean, have you seen comic art? Pure black shading can look great when done well).

However, it's true that beginners won't be great at using pure black/white and it's greatly beneficial to experiment with off-white and such. Adding a slight tint to your neutrals makes a nice difference, and IMO the greater you can make it stray away from its original tone and still make it look convincing, the better!

By the way, notice how there's no "white" or "black" in the background? I reserved these contrasting tones for the figure. This is to draw your attention towards her, instead of adding more contrast to the background and making it all overwhelming.

Anyways, here are some other drawings in which I also used modified preset Ibis backgrounds:

• These KanaMafu drawings. It's the same pattern in both drawings, just flipped vertically and with inverted colors.

• This Kanade drawing.

Now, moving onto composition:

Not gonna lie, this was all a pretty subconscious process. I actively had to look for the principles I had applied, because honestly "figure in the center of a vertical canvas" seemed simple enough for a composition, but there's more to it!

I honestly feel like this is very self-explanatory as shown in the image, but if it isn't please ask me to elaborate B-).

Note: regarding the "airbrush work" mentioned, I meant I slightly painted over with a dark airbrush towards the bottom of the canvas and then lowered the opacity. Again, the whole thought process here was Closer to the focal point = lighter colors, smaller shapes and more detailed brush strokes.

But! There's more!!!:

Still on composition and color, something that is extremely useful and that I unfortunately forgot to do while working on this drawing is to check your values. This means translating the piece into B&W.

Due to the fact that I didn't check my values, the hair sort of blends in with the background. Upon noticing this, I added a highlight the same color as the angel wings (off-white). This was useful at making more of a distinction, but I could've definitely pushed it further had I followed this advice.

Onto (probably) my favorite art advice ever: TRIANGLES. Use triangles whenever you can. ESPECIALLY when there's negative space (space not occupied by the figure). This works so well to make your silhouettes more legible and dynamic. It's a life-saver.

Also, look up Sinix Design and Marco Bucci on YouTube for some great art advice.

I'm pretty sure that's all, sorry for becoming the yap monster. I really hope this was helpful! Thanks again for your ask and have a nice day/afternoon/night.

[the-cu-genswap-au]

Behind the scenes post #2

continuing where we left off

#4. Production trivia #3: a tip for making comics: I want to talk about this random shot of the wall here

- In comics, when you have a scene with two characters talking to each other, it gets really boring when the entire scene just keeps cutting back and forth between the two over and over for the entire conversation. You want the scene to feel dynamic, like these are two people moving and existing in a fleshed out world.

- My strategy for this is usually to cut away to an important object within the same scene, or something in the background, just to avoid making the scene feel monotonous. You can see the same thing in this panel

- The problem, though, is that sometimes this strategy doesn't always work as well

- With the random wall panel, I only added it in because I knew I wanted to cut away from the characters for a bit, but the setting they were talking in (random empty alley behind the playground) didn't have a lot of interesting background elements to switch over to. So, I settled for the wall behind them. Admittedly it's not the most visually interesting thing to cut to, but I'd rather have this than keep cutting back and forth between the characters.

#5. Real world influence:

- This shot of the playground was partially inspired by the playground at my own elementary school! I remember we had a fenced-in basketball court that faced out towards the park outside the school, and the entire fence was surrounded by trees and bushes. It made a nice shady spot to sit down and read in during recess.

- I draw a lot from my own elementary school experiences for this AU. I threw in a reference to Jerry Spinelli because we had to read a lot of his books in fourth grade, and a lot of smaller props the characters use are based on ones I remember using back then.

#6. Recurring detail:

- Sometimes I like to shade Melvin in a way that's meant to evoke Melvinborg. Not because Melvinborg is relevant to the AU, but because I just think it looks cool :)

#7. Complaining about my own handiwork: this is a really quick personal gripe I wanted to get off my chest

- Out of all the environments, vehicles, perspective shots, and crowd shots I've had to do so far for this comic, the hardest thing to draw by far.... has been George's arm in this panel.

- I don't know what happened here! Anatomy is usually so much easier to draw in the CU art style but this arm just didn't want to work for me! I genuinely spent hours trying to make this arm look good! Here's the sketch:

And here is where I considered giving up and drawing him a completely different arm position I thought might be easier to draw:

Ultimately I did go back to the original pose, though. It just felt a little more dynamic, and the scene really needed more dynamicism.

#8. Another little detail:

These two panels actually have some foreshadowing in them :) :). This will make sense later.

[leenfiend]

I thought the Two Slow Dancers comic would be a fun opportunity to break down my process a lil bit cause this was a lot of undoing and redoing and adding so for any ppl curious it will be under the cut!!

So to start off I actually only thumbnailed what is now page five and six, the original image in my mind was them reaching out to each other in different seasons clothing, I considered just making an animated version of that but then I connected it to the two slow dancers scene I had imagined in my head a month or so back and wanted to make it part of a small narrative:

(I actually did page six first - u can tell by the way my writing is nearly incomprehensible that this idea came to me like a vision in the night)

But then looking at that i said - well surely that doesn’t tell the story enough. I need more. And then I played two slow dancers on repeat for probably an hour while I thumbnailed a surrounding narrative for those two pages and ended up with this mess:

And from there I actually started working on the lineart two pages at a time - I like working on freakishly large two page spreads because to me it helps the flow feel more cohesive, I don’t look at them as isolated pages until I get to the shading part of the process.

But once I sent it to some ppl for feedback and reread it myself a million times I felt like the story still wasn’t reading the way I wanted it to - two out of six pages were “flashbacks/memories” pages and that ratio didn’t really allow for the other four pages to read as a cohesive story in my opinion so I kept trying to workshop two more pages for the front and I went through a few iterations:

I thought at first I would show the outside of the garrison, give the audience more of a setting, and then show the flyer so we know Keith is getting ready for this celebration. But it was too literal for me (even though what I ended up doing was still pretty literal lmao). So then I started with the phone/text messages as a story telling device:

Also this is an example of how I almost always draw the comic panels before I decide what goes in them haha, unless I’m really sure what images I plan on focusing in on the panels almost always end up informing what goes inside if that makes sense. But I finally ended up here when I decided “that’s good enough”

I even did most of the lineart for this composition before I decided the imagery of the jacket was just too repetitive, like we don’t need THREE PAGES of keith putting on a jacket.

So i kind of just moved the left page over to the right, and left the right page blank for most of the rest of the comic process. I finished most of the lineart on the rest of it before I finally circled back and decided to go with a tweak of what I originally thought was a lame idea (I had this image in my head of the lions silhouette against the glow of the Earth for the first page, but with the lyrics “the ground has been slowly pulling us back down” I thought it was just too cheesy, especially because that’s not what the lyrics mean either in the song or in the context of this comic and I didn’t want them to be perceived as so literal)

So this is the thumbnail I landed on for that which eventually turned into the actual final page.

Once I had all of the thumbnailing done the rest was pretty fun work! Just lots of going back in and detailing out the scribbles I had first put down. Now in terms of color, I actually have a secret. Most times I don’t color much at all? It depends on the piece but for most of my comics what I do is this -

I flat greyscale color everything and then use a color curve adjuster inside of procreate to pick a color pallet:

color adjusters are ur friend for picking color pallets i'm TELLING YOU!! I used to have a lot of trouble with cohesive color comps but it's a lot easier for me even without using this method now. Anyway I usually leave it here, in my other comics I don't have any shading or background elements outside of the panels but I figured since I was working so much on this comic anyway, I might as well light it a bit. So I basically just scribbled over the whole composition with a purple marker set on a multiply layer and then erased out the places I wanted light to hit, and then added a soft light layer with colored lights to give it more of a party look:

The only hang up I had during the coloring process of all this was how to color the "memory" pages. I originally just wanted them to be more pastel/blue, I thought that would make them look distinct enough. So I painted/shaded this whole page before looking at it within the rest of the composition and deciding it didn't read well at all and ended up sliding the saturation down to zero and calling it a day:

But I'm happy with that decision because it allowed for the "coming into color" moment with the other memory page and I think it connects better to the rest of the comic visually that way. And that was the whole process! There were tons of other little adjustments I made along the way and other composition things I tried out but I do tend to erase instead of iterate in layers so this is the process I have to show you! As a little bonus behind the scenes, here's the time lapse replay of that initial thumbnail for all eight pages! (it is sideways just because it's so large so if you're on a phone/tablet/laptop just turn ur screen sideways otherwise I'm so sorry lmao)

[lonita]

Frottage

There are multiple ways to make use of frottage (rubbings) to create art, that involve the inclusion of natural forms, outdoor elements, urban scenes, still lives, typography and lettering, and other abstract/experimental techniques. Frottage was significant in surrealism as it allowed for spontaneous and unexpected imagery.

I know it's a long post, but there's so much overlap I didn't want to split it across multiple posts and make people go back and forth to find materials lists and such.

You will need:

Textures:

natural - leaves, flowers, shells, bark, etc.

outdoor - sand, sidewalk, raised/depressed lettering, brick work, etc.

surfaces - fabrics, rough paper, textured objects, etc.

unconventional materials - sandpaper, lace, grids, grillwork, Lego, etc.

objects with varying shapes and sizes

textures

Drawing/painting materials:

soft graphite pencils

crayons

pastels

coloured pencils

charcoal

watercolours

gouache

acrylics

ink

Other:

paper

roller or brayer

brushes

blunt drawing/embossing tool

Tips:

Make sure the paper you use isn't too thick or you won't be able to capture texture through it.

Hold the drawing tool at an angle and gently rub it across the paper to best allow for the texture or relief of the textured surface to transfer.

How:

Choose texture/surface.

Place paper over desired spot.

Use your chosen drawing material to rub over the spot.

You could:

Choose a natural and/or outdoor textured surface. Try - leaves, bark, gravel, ground layer, branches, flowers, etc.

Choose cityscape images or objects representing urban scenes. Consider specific architectural elements - statuary, facades, windows, doorways, decorative elements, historical sites, and street textures.

Use different sizes and types of papers to to capture what you want.

Make composite scenes by incorporating different perspectives/views into a single piece.

Consider using one dominant colour for the entire piece.

Use the textures of weathered/decaying urban elements and combine those with the use of worn or distressed materials.

Create a texture map by documenting the textures of different urban areas or neighbourhoods.

Find surfaces with lettering/logos - buildings with embossed letters, textured walls, raised patterns.

Capture different lettering styles, sizes, surfaces, letter forms, words, font styles, calligraphy, alphabets of different languages, phrases, historical buildings or monuments with inscriptions.

Integrate typography into textured backgrounds.

Enhance portraits, landscapes, etc. by incorporating quotes, signatures, or typographic elements.

Overlap objects to create different compositions and texture combination.

Create transition frottage that moves from one object to another.

Combine different techniques, tools, surface materials, ink washes, paint splattering, dripping, masking, blending colours, layering textures, shading, various pressure intensities to create different effects.

Combine embossing with frottage by using a blunt tool to press into the paper to capture depressions and textures.

Use frottage to emphasise negative space by highlighting the areas around the textures rather than (just) the textures themselves.

Combine frottage with unconventional mark-making tools such as found objects, unconventional brushes, or natural tools to create abstract textures.

Experiment with chemically treating the paper before/after to alter textures/create unexpected effects.

Use completed pieces as collage elements or the surface for another work.

Combine various creative techniques to augment results - stencilling, etching, linocut, mixed media, etc.

Alter the textures of materials by crumpling, folding, or distressing them before using them for frottage.

Use as a way to map/document textures found in various environments.

[rv-data]

[chat]

💭 Funny. It was like Irene was the one in Got the Beat | Everyone knows it should’ve been Irene and the girls do too 💀 this is just another example of sm fumbling the bag and trying to get their favourite more exposure. How did that work out for you SM? 💅 | Crazy how that one person can’t make friends although presented so many opportunities. Juniors in the industry don’t seem fond of her, just very weird considering SM pushes her as this kind person | she has two personas, remember.. Other rv don't have this persona, the idols side and personal side kinda blend together a bit. People just know her as wendy but off camera she is different. And people don't know son seungwan which make it harder to get close outside work. At least that's how i understand why this happened. 🤔 | You know this is my opinion as someone who also was born in Asia then moved to the west and grew up there…I think going abroad in your most formative years/young adulthood and having a western style upbringing and then coming back to a more conservative place does make it hard to wholly feel like you belong. And with her family spending a lot of time in the west, or being exclusively there, too (in the case of her sister). There's an element of cultural confusion. Other people came to Korea when they were a bit younger, like Mrk or even Chungh@. When you look @ idols like T1ffany or Jssica, although they navigate(d) Korea well enough, it's different. And she tries really hard to fit in w/ her idol image and goes all in w/ her image to have her career, especially post accident, but I think irl she's probably better friends with people who have a similar background to her. She doesn't seem super happy.

I feel for her in a way but she and her fans have done herself no favors. | da i think it's a little bit funny because i I don't particularly like wendy but even i have enough empathy to realize that there's genuinely something off about her excessive people pleasing with her body image and branding that's very clearly fabricated to cater to her insane fans.

I don't get how people who claim to like her don't understand how damaging it is that they keep pushing for her to be someone she's not when it's pretty apparent that she's been doing pretty concerning things just to keep the validation she's been getting from them. from the PS to not going with yermseulrene out for a meal in the UK just so she can stick to her diet to keep her abs to how she's been dressing since yst and suddenly shading the company at every turn just because she knows fans like it when she does that shit even though she's far from being mismanaged, i don't think there's ever been a moment in recent years where i haven't felt like she's just doing things solely because she thinks it's what her fans want and i think that's pretty sad /post/33039/

[tryinghuman]

Zhuzhing Your Backgrounds

I am of the belief that you can cram as much stuff into a character’s house as they’ll allow and still make it look good, so as you read this, keep that in mind.  As with drawing, I also believe that you can draw nearly anything and make it appealing with small adjustments.

So I know you didn’t want a tutorial on how to do backgrounds but I feel like that’s a part of all this so I’ll just give a quick rundown and get everyone on the same page...

Design floor plan.  This is a top down view of the space with all the furniture represented by simple shapes.  Usually in my head I already have a pretty good idea of what the Trying Human characters' homes and rooms will look like before I get to this point.  If you need help with that, I just do Google searches for things like ‘eclectic bedroom’ or ‘modern kitchen’.  This also helps with getting an idea for set dressings (books, pictures, lamps, room clutter, etc.)

This is FJ12 and Pigment’s apartment from Trying Human.  The first sketch was done on a scrap of paper, scanned, and tightened up in a second pass.

Model room in 3D modeler of your choice.  I use SketchUp (https://www.sketchup.com/plans-and-pricing/sketchup-free) since it’s made for this kind of thing.  There’s also a ton of free plugins and resources out there to use when modeling as well as a large concise tutorial community on YouTube and The SketchUp Essentials (http://www.thesketchupessentials.com/).  I think seeing something in 3D that you can really visually interact with helps you to decide if a room is ‘working’.

Here’s the model for their home.  I’ve only modeled the front room area because so far those are thats the only area that’s been featured.  Technically there is a hallway and stairwell model for the scenes that took place outside outside of their apartment but they’re not connected and a seperate file.  I also make the walls easy to hide so I can get my camera in there.  It’s kind of like working with a digital dollhouse.  

Tip:  Don’t bother modeling/staging anything that won’t be shown or the characters won’t interact with.  Half the time that kitchen and dining room set aren’t in the model because you just can’t really see them.  I also remove props from the background if I find it too distracting.

For example:

Rose is in the same location in both shots but in only one shot do I actually show the kitchen behind her, albeit blurred.  It’s very faded and washed out to help push that depth of field.  Rose also has the effect applied near the bottom of her body in the second panel to help force FJ12 into the foreground and put some distance between their bodies.

Here is the same depth of field effect applied to the wall, shelves and far part of the couch.

Here are some different techniques for making backgrounds ‘work’:

Blurring -  This is the quickest way to move a character forward.  I wouldn’t use this effect in this panel however as Rose is about to interact with the background element by putting her book away.

Outline - A faint outline around a character of a neutral color in the room is a nice way to bring a character forward without sacrificing the clarity of props and sets.

Rimlight - This is similar to the last one except the outline is now built into the character’s shading.

Fading/Fogging - This adds atmospheric depth by setting the background and props further back from the more richly colored and saturated foreground elements.

Watch for tension between foreground and background elements.  Even word balloons and sound effects should be considered if you’re staging for a comic.

[lavenderbexlatte]

holding you like this

stray kids  13.4k words female reader insert Reader x DILF!Hwang Hyunjin  EXPLICIT/NSFW

🖤 warnings: original characters (adult f and child f), single father, unhealthy family dynamics, relationship insecurity, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, breeding/impregnation kink 🖤

🚨🚨 the unhealthy family dynamic warning applies to hyunjin and his parents, NOT hyunjin and his child! there are elements of emotional manipulation and emotional neglect of an adult child by his parents. please don’t read if you would find this content triggering!

connect with me! / masterlist

You prepare yourself for a lot of social what-ifs when you go to the grocery store, but a three-year-old almost taking you out with a headbutt to the knee isn’t usually one of them.

On this particular day, you’re standing in the coffee aisle, scanning the rows of beans, trying to pick between a new roast for your French press, or a new flavor for the automatic drip. You’re not having an easy time of it, either. They all look the same to you. And really, is a French vanilla that different from a caramel swirl? Why are some of these so expensive? They’re all just beans, aren’t they?

The coffee dilemma is taking up all of your conscious focus, so you don’t even hear the tiny footsteps clicking against the industrial tile floor. You don’t see the head of bouncing dark hair, barreling toward you. You don’t notice anything until a tiny body slams right into your leg, and little arms wrap around your knees.

You look down in shock, rocking back to steady yourself so that you don’t topple right over. Your phone nearly slips out of your hand, right onto the head of the very small human peering up at you with big round eyes.

It’s a little girl.

She has glitter extensions and a floor-brushing gown, looking royal and in control right down to the tiny Mary Janes on her feet. She doesn’t look confused or perturbed at all, not even bothered by clinging to a stranger like this. Well, that makes one of you.

“Hello,” the little girl says, her voice high but confident. “What’s your name?”

You tell her, and she nods wisely, in a way that looks incredibly bizarre for someone so young.

“Okay. I’m Minnie,” she says.

“Minnie,” your repeat.

The girl nods, her arms still clamped around your knees. “Like the mouse.”

She points at one of the barrettes clipped into her meticulously styled hair. It’s a flat metal cameo pin of Minnie Mouse, smudged with tiny fingerprints as if she touches it often.

“Cool,” you say awkwardly.

You reach down and gently unwind her arm from around you, freeing yourself, and you kneel down so that you’re at her height. She just looks directly at you, and you can feel the judgmental intelligence behind her gaze. It’s kind of scary.

“I’m three and three-quarters,” she tells you proudly.

“Where’s your grown up?” you ask her.

You don’t really think you’d be much help to this child. You certainly don’t want to have to be responsible for her for too long. Where are her parents, or whoever she came here with?

“My grown up?” she mulls it over, “You mean Daddy. He’s lookin’ at juice.”

“Why aren’t you with him?” you ask.

“Ran away,” she shrugs, “If I run, Daddy chases me.”

“Do you think Daddy likes chasing you?” you ask.

You immediately curse yourself inwardly for asking a preschooler a half-sarcastic question like that. You don’t know this kid from Eden, you can’t just mouth off at her. But Minnie is sharp, and she just smiles at you winningly.

“I dunno. Prob’ly not,” she shrugs again, and you marvel at the big attitude in this small person.

“What if he’s worried about you?”

“Then he should find me,” she answers.

And with that, the kid sits down cross-legged on top of your feet, settling her gown neatly around herself. You’re floored. Apparently, you’ve become the shade tree that this kid is gonna sit under until her poor father finds her. Are all little kids this weird?

You’re not sure what to do. If you move, if you take her and go searching, you could spend all day missing her father at every turn. That means you should probably just stay here and wait for her dad to come to you. At least this way you know the kid’s safe and not running around to meet strangers more dangerous than you.

You get back to your coffee dilemma, as Minnie just sits primly on your feet. It’s not like you could walk away without dislodging her, anyway. And as you pick out a package of coarse-ground beans for your French press, you hear it.

“Minnie!”

An exasperated voice, from the end of the aisle. You turn toward the sound, and the person that you see takes your breath away.

It’s a man, tall and slim, long legs in wide-legged denim. His hair is shoulder-length and blonde, the top half of it held back in a small ponytail at the crown of his head. His face is equal parts angry and relieved, dark thick brows furrowing. The guy is incredibly, distractingly beautiful. You kind of can’t believe it.

“Daddy,” Minnie pipes up, as if confirming it to you.

She leans back against your shins like you’re her personal throne. You look down at her, and then back up at the man as he approaches, dragging a half-full shopping cart behind him.

“I am so sorry,” the man is saying, “She has a mind of her own and sometimes-”

“I made a friend!” Minnie interrupts her father.

The man leans down and scoops his daughter off your feet, plunking her into the basket of his shopping cart.

“You’re in jail, princess,” he tells her curtly.

“I’ll get out,” she replies.

You’re sure that your jaw is actually hanging open several inches as the man turns back to you to continue his rambling apology.

“I really am sorry, um…” he pauses.

“(Y/N),” you fill in for him.

“Right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you dismiss, “She just wanted to talk. And I wanted to make sure she didn’t get lost. More lost.”

The man grins at you sheepishly. “I’m Hyunjin, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say.

“I like her,” Minnie calls from her shopping-cart jail cell, “She’s funny.”

“That’s a high honor,” Hyunjin tells you soberly.

“I’m glad to finally hear that someone thinks I’m funny,” you say.

Hyunjin laughs. He has a nice laugh, sharper and shriller than you would have thought, but full and honest. He looks just like Minnie when he smiles. You’re thoroughly charmed.

“Well,” you say, tugging yourself back to reality, “I have some more shopping to do, so…”

“We’re friends now!” Minnie announces.

Hyunjin glances at his daughter. “You two are friends now?”

“Yes!” the girl insists.

Hyunjin returns his gaze to you. “I guess you’re friends now. Any chance you’re up to see us again sometime?”

“See you again?” you repeat, nonplussed.

“Just for coffee, maybe. A playdate?” Hyunjin’s grin is teasing.

“Doesn’t she have other friends?” you ask, “Friends who are more…three years old?”

“Oh, sure. but Min is an equal-opportunity befriender,” Hyunjin says, “She likes everyone.”

You really don’t know what to make of this precocious little girl who’s just declared you her new friend and her very indulgent but admittedly very attractive father. You might consider that he was hitting on you, except that he’s clearly just bending to the will of his very willful child, and that he’s way, way, way out of your league.

“Sure,” you say, finally.

“Cool.”

Hyunjin pulls out his phone and offers it to you with the keypad open. You enter your number and call yourself, and you save each other’s data into your phones. ‘Hyunjin (Minnie’s Dad)’ goes in as your newest contact.

“We’ll text you to make plans!” Hyunjin promises, as he wheels his cart away.

“See you later!” Minnie calls.

She waves furiously at you until the two of them round the corner to the left, toward the checkout counters. You’re left standing there with your package of coffee and butterflies in your stomach.

Just like that, you have a new friend.

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

When you do eventually get a text from the number saved as ‘Hyunjin (Minnie’s Dad),’ it’s abundantly clear which of the two is doing the texting.

‘hello!!!!!!’ ‘yo u have to wear’ ‘princess dress!!!!!’

It’s a Thursday afternoon, and you’re at work, sat at your desk overlooking the production floor. Your lunch is just about to end, the boys in assembly below are already getting back to it, and you need to make this quick before your next meeting.

Hyunjin must have helped with the spelling, but that is definitely a message direct from Minnie. You’re debating how exactly to respond to this message, when a call comes in, instead. You answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hi!” The voice on the other end is unmistakable.

“Hi, Minnie,” you say patiently.

“Did you get my text?”

“Of course,” you answer.

“Good. Wear your princess dress,” she says decisively. “Talk to Daddy now.”

The phone clatters loudly like it’s been dropped right on the floor, and you hear a shout in the background. You wince at the noise, but keep the phone pressed to your ear until Hyunjin’s voice replaces his daughter’s.

“Hey, sorry,” he says, “She decided that PJ Masks are more important than this phone call that she DEMANDED I make to invite you for coffee on Saturday.”  

“Coffee, huh?” you repeat.

“Yeah, if that’s okay,” Hyunjin says.

You can hear real hesitation in his voice, and you’re quick to reassure him, “No, no, I think it’s cute. It’s okay.”

“She just never takes to strangers this fast,” Hyunjin explains, and you can’t quite fathom why that piece of knowledge makes your stomach swoop. “I wanna encourage her to see the world as kind of…safe and fun, y’know? Is that stupid? Like, she shouldn’t just run around with strangers, but she shouldn’t be afraid of the world, either.”

“That makes sense,” you assure him.

“We had a talk about it, I think she understands the difference.”

He’s kind of rambling at you. You wonder how often Hyunjin gets a chance to talk parenting with someone.

“No, really, I understand,” you say, “I’d love to do coffee.”

“Great,” he says, “You can meet us at this café…I’ll send you the address. It’s called Mama Dining.”

You’ve never heard of it, but you trust Minnie’s taste. Hyunjin, you can’t say for sure. But you trust that little girl with more blind conviction than is probably necessary.

“Okay, see you then,” you say.

“Cool.” You can hear Hyunjin’s smile in his voice. “Bye, (Y/N).”

“Bye!” comes Minnie’s voice, far away but loud, and you know that she must be screaming as loud as she can.

You laugh, and you hang up.

--------------- Mama Dining is a small glass-front piece of realty across from a folk medicine shop and underneath a square brick apartment building, a few metro stops away from the area where you live. It’s so stuffed full of potted plants and flowers in vases that there’s barely any surface area for anything else, but it’s clean and bright inside. The tables are mismatched with their chairs, and the whole place smells like coffee and sharp herbs and fresh bread.

It’s homey, that’s the word for it. Cozy, and homey.

You’d taken your pint-sized new friend’s advice to the letter, busting out one of the nice dresses that you save for special occasions. The last time you wore it was to a coworker’s wedding; it’s light and floaty and floral, a long floor-length skirt over a tighter inner slip. It’s the closest thing you have to a princess dress. But it’ll have to do.

You check your reflection in the glass as you pull the door open, bells tinkling above your head. As soon as you step into the café, a little voice shrieks at you.

“YES!”

Minnie is sitting at a table in the corner, in a different gown, her hair in an elaborate braided style, half-up and half-down. She’s looking at you with the utmost approval, and even though she’s a three-year-old, you still feel proud that you’re passing her test.

“A princess dress,” she says, satisfied.

“I tried my best,” you say.

You give a silly little spin on the spot, so that your skirt stands out for her, and behind you, someone laughs. You freeze, cheeks heating up.

“You look nice.”

It’s Hyunjin, because of course it is. You turn around to see him in casual jeans and a long sleeve tee, an apron tied around his waist. His hair is pulled back again, off his face. He’s gorgeous. But it kind of looks like…

“Do you work here?” you ask.

Hyunjin nods. “Easiest place to meet up is here, while I’m on shift. Hope that’s okay.”

“It’s fine,” you assure him.

“I’ll get you a coffee,” he says, “What do you like?”

You tell him your regular order, and he heads to the espresso machine to start it up.

“Oh,” he calls, over the sound of the grinder, “And if Judy comes in while you’re here, I’m sorry in advance.”

Judy? Your stomach does an awkward flip at the idea of him inviting you here if he has a girlfriend, or a wife. You don’t think you’ve seen a wedding ring on him, but…

Oh, well. Nothing you can do, at this point. You’re here for the kid, anyway, aren’t you?

You go over to the table where Minnie has set up camp, propped in a booster seat to reach the tabletop. She has a coloring book and a pack of glitter crayons in front of her, and you pull up the second chair to join her. Minnie stares at you for second, her cute upturned eyes so much like her father’s, and then she opens up her coloring book, flipping the pages as carefully as she can.

When she finds what she wants, she sets the book down and rips the page out. It’s a picture of a teacup and saucer on a table, with a pitcher of flowers behind it.

“This is yours,” she says, with the utmost seriousness.

“Okay,” you say, matching her tone, “Can I use your crayons? I didn’t bring mine.”

You kind of expect a kid as serious and assertive as her to be careful about her possessions, but Minnie just upends the crayon box onto the table.

“Yep,” she says.

She grabs a lilac color and dives right into her own coloring page: a dressing table covered in cosmetics and trinkets. You select a red crayon from the pile and join her, filling in the delicate pattern on your teacup.

You can’t explain why it doesn’t feel like babysitting, but it doesn’t. It feels more like…coexisting. Like this preschooler really is just happy to have your company.

What a weird kid.

Hyunjin comes over after a moment with your coffee. The café is empty aside from you three, so he sits down at the table with you, placing the cup with your drink down beside the precarious pile of crayons.

“Daddy can’t color,” the kid tells you.

“Really?” you ask, looking up at Hyunjin wryly.

Hyunjin raises his hands as if in defeat, “My talents lie in performing arts, not studio arts. Unlike this renaissance child, who can do it all.”

It’s obvious that Hyunjin adores his daughter. You can see it in his eyes as he watches her scrub her crayons across the picture, in the way he talks about her. You’re not around kids a lot, but you can tell that this little girl has a lot of love in her life. That’s probably why she’s so bold; outgoing, kind, and well-adjusted kids are usually well-loved kids.

You smile to yourself as you keep coloring, switching the red for a grey. And after a while, you’re aware of Hyunjin’s watching gaze focused not on his daughter, but on you.

Embarrassed by the attention, you look up and meet his eye. He’s just watching you, with a lopsided smile that shows all of his teeth and crinkly smiling eyes that emphasize the little mole under his bottom eyelid on one side.

“What?” you ask.

He gives himself a little shake.

“Sorry,” he says.

It seems like all he does is apologize to you when he’s done nothing wrong at all.

“I was just thinking, it’s really sweet that you’re here,” he admits.

“Sweet?” you ask.

He tilts his head. “Yeah. How many people do you know who would come across town just to hang out with a little kid?”

You take a sip of the coffee. It’s perfect. Maybe the best you’ve ever had. Is he even real?

“Well, she’s like the coolest person I’ve ever met,” you say, “Regardless of age.”

“Yeah, she is,” Hyunjin says fondly.

“I’m cool,” Minnie agrees.

The doors of the café open softly, and you and Hyunjin turn around simultaneously to see a young couple, maybe college students, seating themselves and talking softly. Hyunjin excuses himself to go help them, and you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

What are you even doing here?

Did you agree to come on this very strange playdate because you were so taken by a strange child that you felt the need to keep a promise you made to her? Or, on some level, did you just want to see Hyunjin again? Neither answer is particularly good. Or sane.

“You and Daddy can be friends, too.”

Your head snaps up when you realize you’d being addressed, and you regard Minnie. “What?”

“You and Daddy can be friends. You’re my friend, but Daddy, too.”

You hum, as if you’re really puzzling it over, when in reality you’re about to collapse from the embarrassment of this child inadvertently setting you up with her dad. Or maybe advertently. You have no idea how smart she actually is.

“How does it look?” you ask instead, holding up your drawing.

Minnie puts down her crayon and scrutinizes your picture as if she’s a museum collections pro scouting for art.

“Do pink flowers,” she says eventually, and she returns to her own drawing with the same intensity.

“Good idea,” you say.

You pick out a rosy pink color and try to will all your nerves about Hyunjin away. He’s just a new friend. The father of you new littlest friend. You can’t make this weird just because he’s good-looking. Hyunjin himself has vanished into the back kitchen, tucked away to prepare something. You can hear a stove going, cutlery clattering.

The café door opens again as you’re idly listening to the sounds of the kitchen. This time, it’s a middle-aged woman with a long black ponytail and a practical, motherly outfit. She greets the young couple cheerfully, and then she sets her eyes on you.

“My Min!” the lady coos, and Minnie looks up from her drawing.

“Hi. I’m coloring.”

“I can see that,” the lady says, coming up closer to lean on the table next to your casually, “And who is this?”

“(Y/N),” Minnie answers.

“I see.”

The woman is smiling, but her eyes are regarding you coolly, as if she’s sizing you up. You just offer her a nervous smile, unsure who this is or why she knows the kid.

Hyunjin emerges from the kitchen then, timing perfect, a plate holding a large grilled sandwich in hand.

“Oh, hey, Judy,” he says, on his way past to give the couple their lunch.

Judy? This is the Judy that he mentioned earlier? Not to be ageist, you think, but she seems too old to be Hyunjin’s partner. But romantic relationship or not, you can understand why he apologized on her behalf; she’s already giving you incredibly intense vibes.

“(Y/N)’s picture goes on the wall with mine, okay, Judy?” Minnie says suddenly.

“Sounds like a plan,” Judy agrees, “Now, is someone going to tell me who this young lady is?”

Moving very quickly and pretending that he’s not, Hyunjin rejoins the three of you over in your corner, setting a comforting hand on Judy’s shoulder. You can’t help but wonder if he’s doing it as a means of subtly holding her back.

“Min made friends with her at the store the other day after one of her famous mad dashes,” Hyunjin says. “And we figured the polite thing to do after that would be to invite her for a cup of coffee.”

“I see,” Judy says.

Her face softens at Hyunjin’s words, even though she’s still looking you over quizzically, like she can’t decide how to feel about you being there.

“Well, welcome,” she says, finally, “I’m Judy. This is my café.”

She extends her hand to shake, and you take it. Her hand is slim and pretty, heavy with a few jeweled rings and slightly roughened on the fingertips from hard work.

“She takes care of us,” Minnie pipes up.

“I try to,” Judy agrees. “They need all the help they can get.”

“I resent that!” Hyunjin says.

“But really, I just use this pretty face to attract customers,” Judy continues, waving a hand at Hyunjin.

He squawks his outrage, and you can’t help the smile that creeps over your face.

“The teens see this face and they come right in. It’s like magic,” Judy says, as if she’s being purposefully oblivious to how much she’s embarrassing him.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” you say.

And you mean it, too. Hyunjin obviously has an unconventional support system going on, with this woman who he introduced by her first name and not by her relation to him. It leads you to believe they’re not blood-related or anything. It doesn’t really matter, though. She seems nice, if not a little protective.  

“Nice to meet you, too,” Judy says, with such heavy finality that you feel as though you’ve just cleared a hurdle.

And from the way Hyunjin’s whole body perks up at her words, maybe you have. Why do you get the feeling that this was the equivalent of a meeting-the-parents moment?

As quickly as the atmosphere had heightened, it settles back to the lazy calm it was before. Judy pats Minnie’s head fondly and disappears into the back of the café, not to reappear. Hyunjin returns to his work, and you take back up the task of neatly filling in the coloring page, careful not to upstage your tiny host and her not-quite-developed motor skills.

It’s a slow afternoon.

The young couple eats their lunch across the room, adding only a quiet hum of activity to your surroundings. Minnie tells you stories while you work, regaling you with the deep inner workings of preschooler life.

“Their names are Sage and Ginger!” she’s saying happily.

You haven’t been listening closely enough, clearly, because you’re stumped. “Whose names?”

“The babies!”

“What babies?”

“From Blue’s Clues & You,” she huffs.

Oh. You vaguely remember the original Blue’s Clues show, but you can’t say you know exactly what she’s talking about. Is she talking about…the sentient salt and pepper shakers? Do they have babies? Why do they have babies?!

“That’s cool,” you say, with level enthusiasm.

Minnie looks at you flatly, but accepts your words with a nod. “They’re cute. So little!”

It goes on like that, bits of kids’ programming trivia and input on your crayon color choices. The couple leaves, and you can see Hyunjin zeroing back in on you as he lets them out with a wave and a call to come back soon.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

You pick up your drawing, for him to see. You’ve been finished with it for a while now (it’s a children’s coloring book, so it’s not all that intricate) but you don’t want to appear unengaged, so you’ve been going over your lines and blurring out the crayon marks. His eyes crinkle up with joy at the sight of it.

“Done!” Minnie announces.

She brandishes her own drawing, too, and Hyunjin beams at the two of you with equal pride.

“Can I put these up?” he asks.

“Together,” says Minnie.

“You got it.”

He takes both rough-edged pages and whisks them away to the counter. Behind the register, on an expanse of wall, there’s a collection of doodles and coloring pages that you hadn’t noticed when you walked in. They must all be Minnie’s; the bold coloring strokes are all the same, her heavy hand immortalized in wax and marker and glitter pen.

Hyunjin tacks up the pictures side by side on the wall.

It’s the tiniest gesture in the world, really. You can’t even count how many scraps of paper, how many school notebooks and work memos that you’ve scribbled on over the course of your life. You’ve colored kids’ menus at restaurants, done detailed adult coloring books at mixers. Somehow, this one ragged coloring page tacked to the wall of a café seems like a turning point in your life.

You wonder when you got so sentimental. It’s silly, but it’s there; warm happiness in your chest.

When Minnie begins to wilt, saying in not so many words that she’s getting tired, you know that your playdate time is coming to an end. It’s only been an hour and a half, maybe two, but that’s an awful long time to keep such a young kid occupied on one activity. You’re proud of yourself, honestly.

“She’ll go down for a nap soon, before dinner,” Hyunjin tells you softly, “You can head out if you want. I don’t wanna monopolize your day.”

“I think I will,” you agree.

It’s been a nice time, but you’re not one to overstay your welcome.

You say goodbye to Minnie, who insists on giving you another crushing full-body hug, and you make it all the way to the door before you realize Hyunjin is following you.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Walking you out,” he replies.

“I’m just going to my subway stop.”

“Then let me walk you to it,” he says.

You struggle to hold back your smile at his easy grace. “Okay, sure.”

The two of you set out into the afternoon, side by side, for the short walk from this inner part of the neighborhood to the metro stop that will take you back home. The breeze tugs at your skirt and ruffles Hyunjin’s apron, and you can’t help but sneak sidelong peeks at him as you walk.

“I hope Judy didn’t scare you too much,” he says.

“She’s intense. But I can tell that it’s out of love,” you reply.

He laughs at that, and you continue your slow meander down the unlined streets.

“She’s like an adoptive mom to me,” Hyunjin tells you. “I’m lucky to have her.”

“Oh,” you say, curious but knowing that you shouldn’t ask.

The two of you walk a while longer in your quiet bubble, but eventually, Hyunjin sighs.

“I don’t talk to my parents,” he says, “It’s not that crazy. Just how it is.”

“You don’t have to tell me more if you don’t want, I understand.”

“And now I’m oversharing. Sorry,” he winces.

You shake your head, “It’s not a bother, I just won’t pry.”

Hyunjin considers this, and nods. “It’s just me and Min, so Judy’s been a livesaver. Mom and auntie and grandma all in one.”

Just him and Min, which means no wife and no serious girlfriend. That makes you feel a bit better. You’d hate to get in the way of a serious relationship, even indirectly. Minnie is a nice kid, and you like her, but you’re not her nanny or her babysitter or anything. You’d hate to be that kind of person, shoving yourself into a family where you have no business being.

“But…I wanted to know…would you wanna hang out again?” Hyunjin asks.

You laugh gently. “For Min? I’d walk into traffic. Yes, I’ll hang out again.”

“Not with Min,” Hyunjin says, voice soft and hesitant. “With me.”

The word that falls out of your mouth before you can stop it is, “Why?”

Hyunjin snorts, and then breaks out laughing, harder than you’ve ever heard him laugh.

“Because I think you’re cool?” he says eventually. “You’re cute and you like my kid, which is more than I can say about ninety percent of the people I meet.”

This was not part of the plan. Not that you had a plan, but come on. You were here to hang out with a super weird toddler, to entertain a precocious little girl because it’s cute and fun, not to be asked out by her dad. Her gorgeous dad, who’s so out of your league that it makes your head spin.

You spare a thought to wonder if he’s playing a prank on you.

“Unless…” Hyunjin draws away from you (when did he get so close?), “Unless you’re already seeing someone? God, I didn’t even think – I’m sorry, I just-”

“No, you cut in quickly, “No, I’m not-”

“Am I being weird? I’m being weird,” he laughs, and he almost sounds…nervous?

“You’re not being weird,” you assure him, “You just surprised me. I didn’t think…” 

“Then you’ll go out with me?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, surprising yourself, “Yeah. I will.”

Hyunjin’s smile is the fucking sun coming up. It warms you right down to your toes.  

“I’ll call you,” he promises, “I’ll call and we can make plans.”

“Okay,” you agree.

The dimly-glowing sign marking the subway entrance looms ahead, and Hyunjin falls back, as you approach the down escalator.

“I’ll call you!” he says, again.

You wave as you go down the escalator, and once he’s out of sight, you practically melt. You have no idea why life is throwing you this curveball, but you’re not complaining.

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

True to form, it’s Minnie who calls you some days later. Not Hyunjin, the adult who presumably has control over the phone and has to dial the call. No, it’s the toddler whose voice filters over the line, the toddler who is undeniably and ultimately in control of her father’s whole world.

“Hi, (Y/N)!”

“Are you supposed to be making calls?” you tease.

“It’s okay, I have a mission,” she tells you.

“A secret mission?”

“Maybe…” Minnie’s voice pulls away from the phone, and you can hear her shout, “Daddy! Is it a secret mission?!”

Hyunjin’s voice calls something in reply, and then Minnie returns.

“Yeah, a secret mission,” she says.

“What’s your mission?”

“We gotta know, do you like Japan food or Italy food better?”

“Hmmm,” you think out loud, “I think I just like food.”

“Me too,” Minnie agrees, “I just like food.”

There’s another shout from Hyunjin that you can’t make out.

“Daddy says it’s gonna be a s’prise, then,” Minnie reports.

“Surprises are fun,” you say.

“It’s okay?” she asks.

“It’s okay,” you confirm.

“Okay! I gotta go. Talk to you later!”

Minnie hangs up, and you burst out laughing so hard that tears pool at the corners of your eyes. She manages to make it sound like she has a high-powered meeting that you’re keeping her from. How does she hide all of that thirty-five-year-old boss energy in her cute little self?

But more important than the absurd circumstance of the call is the outcome. You’re going on a real date. With Hyunjin. You try to pretend that a whole swarm of butterflies haven’t hatched in your gut.

You have a date with Hyunjin.

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

The date goes well.

It goes incredibly well, in fact. If you thought Hyunjin was pretty and charming when he was in more domestic setting, with his kid and at his job, that was nothing compared to fully-focused-grownup Hyunjin on a date.

He dresses well, he’s funny and he’s gentle, he nearly cries because the dish you order to share is too spicy for him. He’s got all the puppylike charm of the young man that he is, and this underlying tired seriousness of the doting single father that he is.

You argue with him until he lets you split the bill for the meal, and he gives you a gentle kiss on the lips when he leaves you at your subway stop. It’s like a fairytale.

So you go out again, and again, and again, still. Sometimes it’s barbeque in your neighborhood, at an outdoor restaurant with great side dishes handmade by the older couple who own the place. Sometimes it’s just coffee and a long chat at a 24-hour café. You haven’t been to his home, yet, and he hasn’t been to yours, but it’s refreshing to just take things slowly with him, when the rest of life moves so fast.

Underneath the fun of being with Hyunjin, though, is the doubt.

Everything you see makes you more and more certain that he’s not a real person. He’s a dating sim come to life. He’s so good-looking that teenage girls stop to whisper and giggle about him, and passing aunties give him bold compliments. Dogs like him, service staff like him, little kids like him. And you understand it; you like him tremendously.

You’re not entirely sure why he likes you, though. Compared to him, you’re kind of reserved, kind of plain. It’s not that you don’t like yourself, but you’re a cottage to Hyunjin’s skyscraper, a woodwick candle to his disco ball. Just different realms entirely.

It doesn’t matter, you suppose, because regardless of his motivation or your understanding, you’re spending more and more time with Hyunjin, and Minnie.

You learn that it’s Hyunjin who does her hair every day, creating looks with pins and braids and tiny ponytails. He grew out his own hair to the length it is now to practice on, he tells you one day. You learn that Minnie only likes crunchy vegetables, raw carrots and the stems of lettuce, and that she can inexplicably eat much spicier food that her father can.

You’re comfortable being part of the mundane. But Hyunjin seems to have different aspirations for the two of you, in your casual and fluid relationship, still without titles or formalities.

“I want to take you somewhere nice.”

You glance up from your laptop, blinking to get the fuzziness out of your vision at you look at Hyunjin where he leans over the prep counter. It’s a weekend, but you have a pile of leftover work to get through before Monday, so you’ve set up camp at the café for the afternoon. Hyunjin is on shift, and he’s been slinging you snacks and coffees between customers. It’s been just the two of you, work obligations notwithstanding, and it’s been…domestic.

“This isn’t nice enough?” you quip.

“You know what I mean,” he rolls his eyes, “Like a real date.”

“Oh, so now you’re saying the first half dozen dates weren’t real?”

Hyunjin sticks out his thick lower lip in a pout. “What happened to the shy awkward person I met at the store? Bring her back, please, this (Y/N) is mean to me!”

You laugh. “Where did you want to go?”

“There’s this place I haven’t been to in years. It’s really nice, my aunt used to take us back when family outings were more my thing,” he says.

“Sounds okay,” you decide.

“You’d have to dress up,” he warns, “Like, for real. I’ll have to dig out a suit.”

“That’s fine.”

You turn your attention back to your laptop, trying to hide your flustered face at the idea of Hyunjin cleaning up extra nice for you, Hyunjin in a fitted suit and shined shoes. He might notice it anyway, though, if the smile that lights up his face as he turns back to the kitchen is any hint.

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

It’s decided that Hyunjin will pick you up from work and drive the two of you to your first fancy date. So that morning, you hitched a ride with a coworker so as not to strand your car at the office overnight, carrying your change of clothes in a bag. The downside of that was having to explain to your coworker what necessitated the change, and your team quickly found out that you have a date. The teasing hasn’t stopped all day, good-natured ribbing all during your shift, about stoic, shy supervisor (Y/N) going on a hot date with a mystery man.

You stand in front of the full-length mirror in your office’s nice bathroom, the one reserved for visitors who can’t pee with the staff. The one with potpourri on the counters and immaculate tile floors. You’ve gone for a menswear look yourself, wide-legged slacks and a silky blouse, and heels. Hyunjin’s already seen you in a nice dress, you figure, and besides, clinging to the businesswear that you already don at work gives you just a bit more nerve.

Somehow, a date at a nice restaurant that holds some sentimental value for him is more serious than anything you’ve ever done, more intimate than splitting cakes at the café and watching Minnie force the other kids to take turns on the slide at the playground.

You adjust your French tuck just a bit, make sure that your necklace hangs neatly, and deem yourself as good as you’re gonna get. You walk out of the bathroom, bag now holding your work clothes tucked under your arm, only to see a whole group of your production team boys waiting for you.

The company where you work is a decently large tech manufacturing plant, and as a production manager, you oversee a team of techs and assembly workers who tend to be on the younger side, and much more often are young men close to your age. They’re all nice boys who you’re quite close to, but they’ve already been on your case all day. Several of them are right here in the hall, now, ready to make fun of you the way that annoying little brothers are meant to do.

“Jeez, (Y/N), out for blood,” says Taehyun, his silica filter mask hanging off one ear.

“Don’t be gross,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“It’s true, you’re really going all out for this date, huh?” adds Jeongin.

“Quit it before I vom and then report you all to HR,” you say.

“Oh, come on,” says Taehyun, “I’ve worked for you for like two years and I’ve never seen you have fun on purpose before.”

“That can’t be true,” you argue, walking toward the front of the building with your little line of assembly-boy ducklings following behind.

“On your birthday, you asked us to get you a firm handshake and a new set of pages for your planner,” Jeongin deadpans.

“You’re Ron Swanson with tits,” Jaemin says.

“Charming,” you glance at him, and he shrugs.

“It’s true.”

Car headlights shine in the picture windows that span the front of your building, and you can make out a small red car sitting in the visitor’s parking right by the door.

“Please don’t embarrass me,” you implore the boys, as you haul open the heavy glass door to let yourself out.

“We would never do that,” Jeongin says, defensive.

“Maybe we should talk to your date, though,” Jaemin suggests, “Rough him up a little.”

“Yeah, please don’t ever do that,” you say, “I’m leaving now.”

The driver’s side window is rolled down, and you can see Hyunjin leaning out, waving to you. You walk around to the passenger’s side of the car as fast as you can, giving your stupid underlings as little time as possible to ruin things.

You slide into the seat and slam the door behind you right as you hear one of the boys yell, “GET HER HOME SAFE. BY TEN.”

“Oh my God, go, drive away,” you groan.

“Who are they?” Hyunjin asks, amused, as he backs out of the parking spot.

“They work for me,” you say. “They wanna intimidate you, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“They must really like you,” he says.

“No, they just really like being annoying.”

Hyunjin laughs, glancing at you as he maneuvers onto the main road.

“You look really great,” he says, sounding a little bit shy.

“Thanks.”

“The restaurant isn’t far,” Hyunjin says, “But I wanted to look cool and drive you.”

“I already think you’re cool,” you tease.

“Well if you’d told me that before, we could have called a cab,” he says.

“Nah, I wanted to see your car,” you say, turning around in your seat to get a full view of the interior, “Big pink carseat and all.”

“Min’s constantly telling me to just get a pink car to match,” Hyunjin says, “I don’t know if I could pull that off, though.”

“With your good looks and princess hair? I think you could.”

“Good to know. Next car, pink,” he says.

Hyunjin wasn’t lying about the restaurant being close by, because the whole drive is less than fifteen minutes. You’ve barely relaxed when he pulls up to the street parking outside a modest building with a pretty marquee and rough brick siding.

“This is it?” you ask, peeking out at the building.

“Yep.”

You scrutinize the restaurant as two of you get out of the car, and you can tell instantly that it’s an upscale place. Everything from the valet in front to the fabric of the curtains reeks of steaks that cost a paycheck and truffles in every possible dish. You’re kind of excited for it.

The maître-d greets you warmly, and brings you to a table against the window, with a view into a small back garden full of lanterns and lit trellises. The table itself is a delicate wooden thing, with full-course silverware and origami napkins. Candles dance on the tabletop, a single red rose in a vase brightening the whites and silvers of it all.

Hyunjin must know a thing or two about romance, because you’re properly wowed. It’s so stereotypically wonderful, it makes for a great sixth-or-seventh date. You’ve known him long enough that you know he’s not trying to blindly impress you, but just to treat you.

You wonder what kind of family he has, that they would bring him to a place like this as a kid or a teenager.

When the waitress, a pretty young woman in server’s blacks, comes over, the two of you order from the set menu and argue only a little about what dishes to taste and what wine to have.

“They’re barely Brussels sprouts,” you’re saying, “They’re covered in oil and bacon and shit.”

“They’re green vegetables,” he counters.

“They’re gourmet, don’t be a baby.”

Starters come and quickly disappear.

The main course comes, and by this point, you’re a glass or so of wine deep, and Hyunjin is only looking more and more handsome, as your stomach starts to be comfortably filled and the drinks warm you up from the inside.

Hyunjin’s gazing at you between bites of his dinner, expression so soft that you wonder if he’s gonna lean right across the table to kiss you. It’s tender, it’s lovely, and it’s unlike any other date you’ve ever had.

But a woman’s shrill, furious voice shatters the entire atmosphere with a single sharpened word.

“Hyunjin?!”

It’s almost comical, the way Hyunjin freezes with his fork halfway to his mouth, eyes wide and startled. It’s only almost comical, because this emotion seems to be very real fear on his part. He keeps his eyes on his plate, but you look toward the sound.

There’s a woman approaching your table, thin and elegant and beautiful. She’s got only the faintest age lines on her perfectly made-up face, and her clothes are designer, a plum-colored dress that brushes her knees and a handbag worth more than your whole closet. She doesn’t even spare you a glance, zeroing in on Hyunjin as she comes to stand right beside the table, puffed up in self-righteous anger like a provoked bird.

“Hwang Hyunjin!” she barks.

Hyunjin turns his head so slowly that you wonder if he’s even moving at all, until finally he’s looking at her.

“Of all the places – what on EARTH are you doing?!” she asks him, tone stiff and angry.

It’s the kind of tone that you can imagine her using to yell at waitstaff, or berate the hotel bellhop.  She’s that kind of wealthy, you can just tell. You’ve been dodging people like this your whole adult life, working your way up in the tech field, littered with its new and old money. You glance at Hyunjin, but the urgency in his face tells you to hold your tongue.

“I’m eating,” he says finally.

“Your aunt told me you were still in the city,” she says, “I can’t IMAGINE what you’ve been up to that you haven’t had time to even call, the nerve-”

“Mother,” Hyunjin says evenly, “You’re interrupting a nice time.

Mother. This is Hyunjin’s mother?

As if she’s just noticed that you’re there, she rounds on you. “And who is this?”

The disgust in her voice makes your stomach twist unpleasantly. It’s been a long while since someone has been so openly dismissive of you. Not since you were a student, you think, but God does it hurt.

“This is my date,” Hyunjin answers.

His words are clipped, like he really doesn’t want to say more.

“Well, obviously,” his mother sniffs, condescending, “What is her NAME?”

“You don’t get to know that,” Hyunjin says.

You know that Hyunjin is distant with his parents. He’s mentioned that they don’t talk anymore, and that they don’t really know his daughter at all. But it speaks volumes that he doesn’t even want his mother to know your name.

“And where did you meet this shining example of gilt wood pretending to be gold?” she asks, “The community center? The food bank?”

“There’s no need to be mean,” Hyunjin says, much more calmly than you would be able to, “We’re trying to have dinner. You should leave.”

“I’ve finished my meal. I’m on my way out,” his mother says haughtily, “But I saw you and I needed to come say something.

“No, don’t let us keep you,” Hyunjin says, gesturing toward the exit with his still-full fork.

“Hyunjin, when are you going to give up this ridiculous act and come back to make things right?” she asks, and though the tone is sincere, there’s no warmth behind it.

“Never,” he replies, “Things are just the way I want them.”

This woman, in her all finery and dignified air, stamps her foot on the ground like a child having a tantrum.

“You’re making a mockery of our family, you know that, yes?” she asks.

“You’re the one yelling at me and embarrassing yourself in a restaurant full of people,” Hyunjin points out.

“You are an aggravating and ungrateful child,” his mother hisses.

“Maybe,” Hyunjin agrees, “But I’m happy.”

Perhaps sensing that she’s starting to make a scene, his mother glances around at the other patrons, who are trying to hide the way they’re listening in with varying levels of success. Your waitress is lingering by the edge of the service floor, eyes glued on the scene.

“You’ll come to your senses,” she promises darkly. “And you’ll come begging for my help. We’ll see if I take pity on you then.”

And with that, she turns around and stalks toward the exit, not even pausing as she barks at the valet to bring her ride around. You watch until she’s outside and out of sight, and then you focus on Hyunjin.

His hands are shaking so badly that his fork clatters against his plate. You reach out and cover his hand with yours, easing the fork out of his grip and laying it down. You feel horrible, and kind of sick, but you know that between the two of you, Hyunjin is worse, so you have to push that discomfort down, just for a while.

“Let’s finish our dinner, okay?” you say, “And then we can talk about this.”

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

The rest of the date isn’t agonizing, but it is uncomfortable. You chat, and joke, albeit without the same easy grace as before. Seeing his mother, and having her speak to both of you that way has really seemed to rattle Hyunjin more than a confrontation usually would.

You settle the tab, splitting it like you always do, and then you find yourselves on a bench outside the restaurant, set away from the main road. It’s dark, and it’s chilly, but it’s comfortable with the gentle atmospheric music from the restaurant marquee and the sounds of traffic.

“Min’s mom wasn’t ready for a baby.”

You glance at Hyunjin at the sound of his voice. He’s fiddling with the cuffs of his blazer, still looking distinctly unsettled.

“Neither of us were,” he amends.

“Was she a hookup?” you ask.

“A girlfriend,” he says, “But not…she was just a girl from a good family. Someone my parents thought would be a good match, so we dated for a long time.”

“A good match,” you repeat, “A good match for you?”

“A good match for the family,” he says bitterly.

“What does that matter?”

“Oh, it matters. Way more than what I want,” he says.

“They’re really rich, aren’t they?” you ask, thinking about his mother’s clothes, and her attitude, and pretty much everything about her, “Your parents, I mean.”

“Disgustingly rich.”

“Oh.”

“She’s a really nice girl, a good person. But she really didn’t want to be with me forever, and she certainly didn’t want a kid,” Hyunjin says.

“So what happened?” you ask.

“She broke things off when she got pregnant, which made both of our families pissed beyond belief. The proper thing to do would have been to get married, right? But instead she ended the relationship, and moved home,” Hyunjin says, “They took care of Min for like a year and a half, her parents and a nanny.”

“Not the mom?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “She just didn’t want a kid. Which is okay, more than okay. Our parents were the ones who wanted to keep the pregnancy, not her. I just wanted everyone to stop fighting.”

You just nod. Hyunjin is keeping this story so purposefully vague, not dropping names or placing blame or really showing any anger. You wonder how much time he’s spent thinking about this story, or telling it in different ways. He seems almost desensitized to it all.

“When Min was almost two, her mom asked if I would take on full custody so she could sign away her parental rights and be out of the picture for good. And I figured,” Hyunjin laughs bitterly, “I figured, better to have one parent that loves you the most than two while one is half-assing it.”

“No, I can see that,” you say.

“Minnie lived with me at my parents’ house until they realized that my ex was never coming back. They always figured we’d get back together.”

“Why?!” you ask, incredulous.

Hyunjin looks at you. “Because that would be the dutiful thing to do. Get married, stay together for the kid, avoid any embarrassing attention on the families.”

“Even if that meant you were both miserable forever?”

Hyunjin turns his gaze back at the ground, sighing. “My parents said they wouldn’t support me if I couldn’t even do that one thing right and convince my ex to do right by the families and marry me. But I wasn’t gonna force her. She’s a good person. just in over her head, and scared. And I can’t blame her for that. I can’t forgive her. But I understand.”

“So, what, they kicked you out?”

“Kicked me out, cut me off,” Hyunjin nods. “I used to be set for life, with their money to back me up. I could have fucked around forever, lived comfy. They took it all away because I wouldn’t marry a girl who didn’t love me and just wanted to live her own life.”

“You’re a good person,” you say.

“It was an easy choice,” he quips, some of his usual humor returning now that he’s gotten the stress of his story out of his mind, “Either my parents, who only love me conditionally, or my daughter, who loves the biggest and best out of anyone ever.”

You laugh, but you can’t shake the new strange feeling that has settled over you, now that you know all of this about him. Knowing that Hyunjin is the rejected son of a wealthy family, a silver-spoon kid with a heart of gold. It only validates some of those nagging feelings that in some unavoidable way, Hyunjin is far, far too good for you.

He’s given up a life of luxury and security for his daughter, and his freedom. You’re not about to make him compromise on anything else, ever. At all.

“Min doesn’t even miss any of them,” Hyunjin says thoughtfully, “Doesn’t even ask.”

“That’s good, I guess,” you say.

He shrugs. “Means that she’s not too fucked up from bouncing around like that as a baby, which is a fuckin’ blessing.”

“She’s safe and happy with you now, though,” you say.

Hyunjin grins at you. “But you know who’s been a great parent influence on her?”

“Who?”

“You.”

You laugh. “I’m no parent, trust me.”

“I dunno, you’re pretty great with her,” he says airily, “I don’t trust my kid with just anyone.”

“You gotta stop being so nice to me,” you say. “You’re gonna give me ideas.”

“Ideas like what? Afraid I’ll wanna take you out on a date? Introduce you to my kid? Oh wait-”

“Shut up!” you whine, nudging him. “I just…can’t believe you like me, sometimes. Like, that you really like me, like this.”

“Of course, I like you,” Hyunjin says, dumbfounded, “We’ve been going out for weeks.”

“Yeah, and that only started because Min told you that she wanted to be friends with me.”

“Did you really think that I got your number that day because I wanted you to be friends with my three-year-old?” Hyunjin asks.

“Yes!” you answer, totally honest, “Yes, I did. I think that you would do anything in the world for that kid, even something stupid like inviting me out.”

You stand up, suddenly needing some space, some air that isn’t warm from Hyunjin’s presence by your side or scented with his soft cologne. He just watches as you pace a few short steps away from the bench.

“It was maybe twenty percent because she was being so cute with you,” he says desperately, “But the other eighty percent was for me.”

You can’t believe that. Sure, part of you hoped for it, because it’s truly so insane to just let your preschooler make friends with random women in public. It makes sense for him to have an ulterior motive. You’d hoped that it was really him who was interested, even if he just intended to hook up with you and then cut it off.

It’s beyond obvious to you that you’ve fallen hard for Hyunjin, even in just this short time. The idea of him feeling anything like that for you is much harder to fathom.

“I know you care about me, at least a little,” Hyunjin says, standing up to join you, “At least, I hope you do. Something, some chance that you like me as more than a friend, or a casual date…”

“I do,” you say, voice strangled and tiny, “But you…you’re-”

“I’m what? I’m a father already? I have too much baggage for you?”

Your heart breaks a little bit more as he says that, as you imagine other people in the past dumping him with those exact words. The conviction in his voice is all that you need to picture it; a different person, a different night, the same outcome.

“No!” you insist.

“Then what?”

You bite the bullet, and you say it. “Because you’re beautiful, Hyunjin. You’re perfect. You have a wonderful kid and a nice life that you’ve built for her and yourself after all of that shit you went through. You…you’re too good for me.”

Hyunjin recoils like he’s been slapped. “How can you think that?”

“I just look at your life, and I can’t possibly picture you moving things around just to fit me in,” you say.

“How can you think that there’s not already space for you?! Can’t you see that you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time?” he asks.

“Because I’m…” you struggle, “I’m boring, Hyunjin, I don’t know! I’m not worth changing for.”

“That’s bullshit,” he scoffs. “You’re letting my mother get to you, which is just what she wants.”

“Then I’m just not right for you,” you say, trying to ignore his comment about his mother and how absolutely right it is. “You have this cute little picturesque life, and I have my normal job and my hobbies and my family and friends and I would just…be in the way.”

“You’re not in the way now,” Hyunjin says.

“We’re not a serious couple now!”

“Why can’t you just let me like you?!”

He’s practically yelling now, keeping his distance and nearly folding in on himself as he looks at you with eyes that are far too shiny. It’s not the yelling that gets to you, but what he’s saying.

“Because it’s scary!” you yell back. “I don’t want to lose you, or your kid, but I know that-”

“I can show you,” he pleads.

He draws in a little closer, like he’s afraid he’s going to spook you. Against your stubborn brain’s protests, you reach out to thread your fingers with his.

You don’t want to lose him.

But as disgusting and cliché and self-deprecating as it is, you just can’t fathom someone like him wanting to be with someone like you.

Hyunjin leans more fully into your gentle grasp, pulls you right up close to him so that the two of you are toe to toe, there on the street outside the restaurant, as cars pass by and streetlights cast their dim yellow light over it all. He’s looking right into your eyes, expression firm and warm and so, so Hyunjin. You can feel your heart fluttering in your chest as you scan his face for nervousness or insincerity, and find none.

He’s looking at you the way he looks at Minnie when she falls asleep on the couch watching Frozen 2 for the millionth time. The way he looks at Judy when her back is turned in the café.

“I’ll show you that I mean it,” he says again, “I’ll be here for you. I’ll support you the way that you’ve supported us. I’ll love-”

He can’t get to the end of that sentence, because you wrench your free arm around his neck and pull him down to kiss you. He startles, lets go of your hand, and you freeze, thinking you’ve miscalculated the situation and gone too far. But he recovers quickly, wrapping both arms around your waist. He adjusts you so that you’re flush against him, and kisses back, harder.

His plush lips are wine-sour and soft, and he molds them against yours like he’s starving for it.

“My place,” he says, pulling back just the slightest bit so he can speak, “My place.”

“But-”

“Min is at Judy’s for the night,” he says, “Please.”

You want to. You want to so badly that your head is spinning, that your heart is beating out a rhythm against your ribcage. He’s here in front of you, wrapped up in you, so handsome and so unattainable…

Well. You think that Hyunjin is making a mistake. But if he’s gonna make it, you’re gonna enjoy every minute of it.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“Okay, or yes?” Hyunjin says, “I need a real yes.”

You hesitate. You decide. You say it.

“Yes.”

Just like that, he’s pulling you down the road to his car and opening the passenger’s side door for you. His place is across the city from here, so you settle in for what’s sure to be the most impatient car ride of your life. Anticipation drags out the minutes, as the energy between you grows so tense that you’re sure one of you is going to snap and start things up before you even get there.

But you’re spilling out onto the sidewalk in front of his building before you know it, Hyunjin’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you.

You’ve been to his place before, to meet him outside for dates, but you’ve never gone inside before. It’s a regular villa building, boxy and painted a demure white, and he leads you up the metal stairs to the third floor.

“I’m not trying to pressure you into anything,” Hyunjin says uncertainly, as he unlocks the door.

“I know,” you say, “I wouldn’t have come up if I didn’t want…well…”

Hyunjin grins his understanding, and you follow him into the apartment, taking his lead as he kicks off his shoes. You peek around when he flips on the lights.

His home looks about the way you’d expect: modest-sized and full of plain, sturdy furniture that looks like it could take a few hits. The décor is understated, intending to be an atmosphere of minimalist modernism, except that a girly, demanding preschooler definitely lives here. Drawings cover the fridge, the corkboard on the wall, the dining table with its one normal chair and one pink booster seat. Toys, hair accessories, and art supplies sit on shelves, in baskets, on end tables.

“It’s cute,” you say.

“Hm?”

Hyunjin pops his head out of the kitchen, now sans blazer, where he’s switching on more lights. He obviously has a just-gotten-home routine, and he’s not about to abandon it just because you’re here.

“This place. It’s cute,” you repeat. “It suits you.”

“It’s small,” he says with a shrug, tossing his blazer onto the back of the couch, “But we each have a bedroom and that’s really all that I can ask for. You ever shared a bedroom with a toddler? Not cool.”

“I’d like to see your room,” you tease, cringing at yourself instantly for making the dumbest of the dumb jokes.

But Hyunjin’s expression is just dangerously joyful, like he’s really taking it to heart.

“I’ll give you the grand tour,” he says.

“Sounds like you’re plotting.”

“I did tell you that I would prove it to you,” he says, drawing in close to you again, “How much I care about you.”

“The only way you know how to do that is with sex?” you ask playfully, “That’s sad. Maybe expand your vocabulary, first.”

He looks down at you, amused and just slightly frustrated. “Why can’t you make this easy for me?”

“Nothing with me is easy,” you say, “You should get used to that.”

“I dunno. You’re kind of easy to love.”

There he goes again, with that word. You can feel your cheeks burning, unable to process such casual affection from someone you like so much.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask.

“As much as you want,” he promises.

You slot yourself comfortably into his arms and lean up to kiss him. He’s got such ridiculous plush lips, soft and sliding against yours, and he holds you like you’re something precious. It’s an overwhelming amount of attention, but you let yourself bask in it.

“C’mon,” he says, “I’ll give you that tour.”

He winks, and then he releases you, walking across the small living space toward the doors on the far wall. Following him is second nature, at this point, and you pad after him.

“This is Min’s room,” he tells you.

He cracks the door on the right, so that you can see a peek of the pink explosion on the other side.

“She picked all her own décor,” he says.

“I’m starting to think that pink is just your favorite color, and you’re using the kid as an excuse,” you say.

“You’ll never get me to admit it,” he grins.

He opens the door on the left, and this room is soft woods and earth tones. Definitely an adult’s room, almost stark in its lack of personal effects. It’s dark except for city lights filtering between the open curtains, casting the room into a seductive kind of shadow. You follow him into the room, grinning to yourself.

“Bed looks comfy,” you say.

Hyunjin sits down on the edge of the bed, strong thighs in dress pants drawing your eye shamefully quickly, and fixes you with a look.

“Come find out,” he offers.

You can’t keep being so self-conscious about this. It’s Hyunjin, it’s only Hyunjin, your friend. One of your dearest friends. With his supermodel face, and his long blonde hair falling out of its ponytail in wisps around his cheekbones, and the outline of his cock against his thigh-

Fuck.

Something in you snaps. You climb into his lap, settling yours knees on either side of his hips, winding your arms around his neck to pull his mouth back against yours. He laughs into the kiss, his hands landing on your hips and pulling you down harder into him.

“See?” he says, voice low, “It’s not so hard to open up to me, is it?”

“I think you’re making a mistake,” you mutter.

“You’re so mean to yourself,” Hyunjin chides.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “I can be mean to you instead.”

He just laughs again, grinding his hips up into you briefly. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, distinct even through the layers of clothes that separate the two of you.

“Can this come off?” he asks, plucking at the collar of your nice silky blouse.

“Yeah.”

His answering smile is dark and satisfied, conniving in a way that makes your pulse jump. Hyunjin is so calm and sweet most of the time, cheerful in a way that suggests naivety. You almost worry about him, sometimes, worry that to other he’ll come across as just pretty and dim. Why are you getting the feeling that you’ve stumbled across a very different part of him, tonight?

“D’you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” he asks, against your collarbone, as he unbuttons your blouse down your chest, down your stomach.

“How long?”

“Too long. Way too long.

He’s pushing your shirt off your shoulders before you know it, reaching around to unhook your bra. His hands are firm and certain, the stumbling hesitation that he’d shown while asking you out nowhere to be found. Here, apparently, he’s absolutely comfortable.

Your shirt and bra are discarded carelessly, and you’re surprised that you feel no shyness at all when Hyunjin cups your breasts in his hands and thumbs over your nipples.

“Knew you’d be pretty,” he says.

“Shut up,” you mumble.

He gives you another one of those feline grins.

“Watch it,” he warns.

Hyunjin hooks one arm around your back and flips the two of you over so that he’s on top, all but dragging you up to the middle of the bed. You’re sprawled on your back under him now, bouncing gently on the mattress with the force that he’d used to move you.

“You’re even prettier like this,” he smirks, “I like the slacks, by the way, very professional. I didn’t tell you that earlier.”

“Thanks,” you reply, breathing heavy, unsure how to handle this new Hyunjin and his blinding confidence.

“Can those come off, too?”

“What about your clothes?” you whine.

“We’ll get to that,” he promises.

He only needs one hand to unbutton, unzip, and tug your slacks down to your knees in one fluid motion, and he move aside so you can kick them off all the way.

“These are so you,” Hyunjin says.

You’re confused, until you look down yourself to see the panties you’d put on that morning: light blue with a pattern of tiny white running llamas. They’re not all that sexy, but they’re comfy, and it’s not like you’d explicitly planned on anyone seeing them, date or no date.

“I wasn’t expecting to get fucked tonight,” you say bluntly, “Give me a break.”

“Should have at least hoped for it,” he grins.

“I try to keep my expectations realistic.”

“You need to give yourself more credit,” Hyunjin says.

To punctuate it, he leans down over you fully, caging you in, and kisses you breathless again. He trails his mouth and hands down your front lazily, scraping his teeth against your hipbone where it peeks from the waistband of your underwear. He lets one long finger trace over your panties, across your covered pussy, and you can’t help how you twitch.

“Bet you’re fuckin’ delicious, too. Am I gonna get to taste?” he asks.

“Jesus Christ,” you groan.

The mouth on him…you’ve never had someone talk to you like this before, so tender and affectionate but also so obscene. It sends arousal pealing through you, the idea that he can be so into this, into you.

“Use your words,” he says, “Come on, can I taste you?”

“Yes,” you say, “God, Hyunjin…”

“Oh, I like how my name sounds, like that, listen to you,” he purrs.

He hooks his fingers into your waistband and pulls your panties off smoothly. Those are abandoned over the edge of the bed, too, and Hyunjin has his face between your legs seemingly as fast as he can.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” he says, warm breath fanning over your inner thighs.

“I will,” you say, “Don’t worry.”

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mutters, and he licks into you indulgently.

He’s got one hand bracing himself against your leg, one hand holding your folds open for him so he can dip his tongue into your opening, drag it slow across your clit.

“Fuck,” he says, and you swear you can feel the word against you, “Can’t wait to feel this sweet pussy around my dick.”

You moan. You can’t help it, can’t help the way you’re leaking your arousal against his tongue, the way his words and his gorgeous mouth are working you over. He pulls away from your core much too quickly, and he smiles when you whine.

“Just a taste, I said,” he placates.

He sits back on his heels between your legs to strip off his own clothes, but you haul yourself up to meet him.

“Let me do it,” you say.

“Be my guest.”

So it’s your turn to undo his buttons and give yourself an unencumbered look at his body for the first time. He’s slim, working muscle like a dancer, gorgeous skin under your hands. You kind of want to take your time, leave marks all over him and get to know every inch. But it does seem like he has an agenda tonight, as he impatiently shrugs off his shirt and undoes his own belt.

He rids himself of his pants and underwear quickly, and you really should have expected him to have a cock like THAT. He’s tall, and pretty, and of course, this part of him matches perfectly, long and thick and beautifully flushed.

“I’m clean,” you find yourself saying, “And on birth control, so if you want…we can…”

Hyunjin grins at you. “You just want me to fuck you raw.”

“I do,” you agree, “Fuck, I do.”

“I’m clean, too,” he tells you.

He nudges your legs apart to make room for him as he crawls back up your body, giving you a gentle playful shove so that you lay flat on your back for him again.

“Is that what you want? Want me to fill you up, just like this?”

He’s looming over you, propping himself up with his hands planted on either side of your head. You can feel the tip of his cock nudging between your folds.

“That’s what I want,” you agree desperately. “Please.”

You don’t know why you’re begging him like this. Are you that easy to break?

But you can’t bring yourself to care how ridiculous you sound, because Hyunjin rocks his hips forward to dip the head of his cock into you, and you keen.

“What do you want?” he asks, with a knowing smirk.

“You know exactly what!”

“I can’t give you anything unless you tell me,” he says.

“I want,” you struggle, “I want you to fill me up. Please.”

“That’s a good girl,” he praises gently.

He rewards you with another thrust, a little deeper, sending a fantastic thrill through your body but still nowhere near enough. He works himself into you slowly, just a bit at a time, pulling completely out in between just to be able to sink all the way back in.

After what seems like an eternity, he slides in completely, hips flush against yours. You squirm, needing him to do SOMETHING, after taking his sweet time to get to this point, but Hyunjin seems content to just sit like this for a moment.

“I was right,” he tells you, “Feels fuckin’ heavenly.”

“Move, please,” you beg.

“Be patient. Maybe I just want you to cockwarm me for the rest of the night,” he teases.

“I would go home,” you say.

He laughs. “Okay, okay, you got me, that’s not what I want.”

So slowly that you know he’s doing it on purpose to torture you, Hyunjin draws back and fucks into you, hard and deep. It coaxes a punched-out moan from your throat, already so strung out though you’ve just begun.

He’s stronger than you would have imagined, driving into you with those narrow dancer’s hips and leaning down to press kisses to your cheeks, your mouth, the sides of your throat. His hands roam like he wants to be touching all of you at once: kneading into your breast, smoothing back your hair, bending your legs up farther so he can fuck you deeper, better.

“Look how well you take me,” he says.

You do look. You crane your neck up to look down the narrow space between you, as Hyunjin props up his body above you, and you can just barely see his thick cock working into you, disappearing with an obscene squelch that leaves no question about how much you’re enjoying yourself.

“So messy,” he teases.

“’m not messy,” you mumble, feeling sex-stupid but indignant.

“No?” he grins, “Not dripping wet for me?”

You want to argue, but he’s right; you can feel exactly how wet you are for him. You can’t remember the last time someone had you so desperate, so ready and eager to take what you’re given. Hyunjin falls forward to let your bodies press together, covering you and pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear.

“Sweet girl,” Hyunjin murmurs, voice soft and fond and dangerous, “So good for me. So good with my kid. We could give her a sibling, you know.”

It sounds like something that just slipped out, the way that it’s so honest and the way that Hyunjin nearly gasps at himself. But your mind has gone one hundred percent completely blank. You let out a moan that’s mostly silent, as you let the implication of that wash over you.

You didn’t think you had a thing for, well…this.

But Hyunjin, looking at you like this, talking like this, honest and filthy, right in your ear. You know that it’s just dirty talk, that he doesn’t mean it, not right this instant. You both know that you’re on birth control. But the game of it, the idea of it…

“Yes,” you gasp, “Oh my God-”

“Oh, you REALLY like that,” he purrs, “I can feel you squeezing around me.”

“Hyunjin!” you moan.

“Is that what you want, baby? You just wanna be filled up with my cum, is that it?”

You can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, and you doubly can’t believe how much you fucking love them, how you’re nodding and clawing your fingernails down his back at the picture he’s painting for you.

“Please,” you gasp, “I want – I want-”

Hyunjin draws up so that he can look into your eyes. “Baby wants me to give her a baby. Hm.”

Never in your life have you been brought right to the point of cumming just from someone’s words, but that’s exactly what’s happening. You can feel that perfect fuzzy electricity in your toes, building up. If you cum untouched, just from this, you’re gonna have some real soul-searching to do.

He seems to be at a similar place, fucking into you at a breakneck pace, still murmuring at you mindlessly.

“Want to fill up this sweet pussy, put a baby in you…Jesus fucking Christ, so good,” Hyunjin moans.

“Inside,” you agree, “Please – I need you, I just-”

As if he couldn’t be more perfect, Hyunjin slips his hand between you, presumably to bring you over the peak with him. The instant his finger presses against your clit, starts to rub a messy circle in the wetness spreading across your folds and your inner thighs, you cum.

You feel like screaming, but your voice is strangled, constricted with arousal, “Oh-”

“Fuck!” Hyunjin moans, like he’s agreeing with you.

One, two, three, four deep strokes, and Hyunjin bottoms out, pressing into you as he cums. Your hips buck into him on their own accord as he paints your walls with his cum, and you can’t help the newly-awakened corner of your mind that thinks about what could happen, if you weren’t on your birth control, if you did this again…

Goddamn. You really have some journaling to do later, or something.

“So perfect,” Hyunjin mutters, letting his head fall, burying his face in your shoulder, “So fucking perfect, how did I get so lucky?”

You’re the lucky one, you think to yourself. Your brain is simultaneously too full and too empty to say anything coherent, so you just lay there, wrap your limbs around Hyunjin as well as you can. He gets the message, you think, because he snuggles more firmly into you and turns his head to press a kiss to your jaw.

He’s warm, and kind of heavy, but you don’t want him to move, or to pull out of you. Just let this minute last a little longer, you think. Just a little longer, before you have to talk about what all of this means.

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

You only know you’ve fallen asleep when you wake up.

There’s a weight on your chest, pressing you into the mattress. For a second you think you have sleep paralysis, until you get a face-full of blonde hair and realize that it’s just Hyunjin, fast asleep on top of you.

“Get up,” you say, pushing on him gently, “And, ew, let me clean up.”

You can feel his cum drying on the inside of your thighs, where it trickled out around his softened cock while you slept. It’s kind of nasty, but the memory of all the hazy lust-filled things you said to each other makes you not mind so much.

Hyunjin yawns audibly, right next to your head, and then he peels himself off you.

“Sorry,” he grins. “Are your arms asleep?”

“No. Doesn’t your neck hurt from laying like that?”

He presses a smacking kiss to your forehead. “No. You’re a good pillow.”

Hyunjin pulls out of you and climbs gingerly off the bed. You squint around the room until your eyes find a glowing digital clock on his bedside; it’s only just past midnight.

“Shower and then sleep?” Hyunjin offers.

“Sounds good.”

He helps you to your feet, laughing as your knees threaten to buckle despite the cooldown period you’ve had.

“I hope I didn’t cross any lines,” he says tentatively, “I took a risk with all that baby talk and-”

“I liked it,” you admit, shy.

“Really?”

You nod. “I mean, we shouldn’t do anything stupid. Not right now. But just to play with, in the bedroom…”

Grinning, you fan yourself dramatically with your hand, like you’re a proper lady being overwhelmed with the saucy behavior of your male paramour.

Hyunjin laughs again. “Good to know.”

He shows you across the hall to the bathroom, men’s hair and skin and shaving products lined up next to rainbow-packaged kiddie shampoo and a small bin full of bath toys. As the shower is warming up, steam and the sound of rushing water filling the bathroom, he nudges you with his elbow.

“I knew all along that you were just into me because I have a kid,” he says.

You consider it, as you pull back the shower curtain and test the water. It’s warm, so you draw the curtain fully back and step under the spray. Peeking out at him, water starting to run down your back and warm your skin the way that Hyunjin’s presence warms you on the inside, you smile.

“Guess you’re just a DILF.” 

💕💕💕💕

[cryinginthebackseat]

you’ve got more poison than sugar - part ii

part i    part iii  AO3 

Fandom: Call Of Duty

Pairing: Russell Adler x Bell

Words: 2.918

Warnings: some mild sexual content and swearings, like usual

Author’s note: okay, i know this one's a little short but i promise there'll be more coming on the next chapter, i promise.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The first time Bell showed her face at Langley, it was two weeks after the program. She wore beige, a ruffled high-neck blouse that made her hazel eyes, like charred nut shells, hard and just about indestructible, popped.

She stood at the lobby, regarding the place like she’d waltzed into a wrong banquet hall, the band played in the background, chandeliers dripping like arctic icicles, the bar drenched in opulent gold.

She didn’t belong here.

But Adler met her there, anyway, Hudson in tow.

“Have I ever done something to him?” Bell asked after the rather short-lived meeting, squinting at the vacant spot Hudson left them. She’d yielded very few words. When she did, it’d been all business, crisp, so it surprised him now to hear her uttering something with more than 2 syllables.

“What do you mean?”

“Have I deliberately done something to piss him off?” she elaborated, quieter, but the glower remained.

Adler carefully studied her behind his tinted shades. It still troubled him to a degree that he couldn’t read her. Like she locked herself off. They say eyes are the window to the soul, but thus far, he saw nothing. Fuck the poets.

“No. At least, not as far as I can tell,” he grits out, curious to see where she was heading with the conversation. “Why?”

Bell hummed, but seemingly unconvinced. A beat, then: “He doesn’t seem to like me that much.”

You don’t belong here, he thought and his face went cagier, back stiffer, but no doubt intrigued. Very much so by this mysteriously curious creature.

Perceptive and diamond-sharp intelligent, he pondered. They might have secured the bag after all.

“It's not you. That’s just as warm and fuzzy you’ll see Hudson with everyone, trust me,” he uttered, hoping that she bought the fib. She did. At least, he thought so. “Come on, Bell, we’ve got a job to do.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adler finds her outside the garage the next night, smoking alone, reading in secret. The ground is still wet from the rain, straggling cloud wisps and every artery of this place fucking freezes his bones. Bell ditches her gloves inside, but has her coat on, the collar popped up like antennae.

"You aren't cold?" he asks when she doesn’t notice him. Too engrossed in her own bubble. She does look better, though. Park is right about that one at least.

"I'm good," she answers without looking up. "Am I needed for something inside?"

"No, just thought I could use some fresh air."

He’s studying her, raking her from head to toe. Suddenly, he doesn’t care if she would notice him. Then he steps closer, standing next to her, lifting his cigarette to his mouth.

“What are you reading?”

There’s something about this secret element to her that has him on his toes. Everything about her is curious- frustratingly curious, careful, as Bell rolls her neck to meet him. In the low light, she looks quite new, he learns. And his eyes beg for him to linger.  

“Amerika. Kafka,” she says. “Have you read it?”

A subtle shake of his head and, “No.” While Bell nods, silent, like she doesn't know what else to say to him. “Should I? Give it a read?” Adler adds, just to keep the conversation going.

She shrugs, a cloud of smoke escaping her nostrils. “I can’t say that Kafka is ever a favorite of mine, but he really is sui generis. And Amerika is probably the most approachable of all his works? It’s funny too.”

“I never thought I’d hear Kafka and funny in the same sentence.”

“Yeah, well, it’s very subtle. And if only you can understand his nightmarish sense of humor, that is,” she explains, shrugging again, like she’s embarrassed. “I don’t know, maybe you’ll like it.”

Frankly, he hates Kafka. He hates his vatic, dead-eye vision of the world; that acute sense of hopelessness clinging onto his main protagonists like vines, but Adler finds himself nodding, anyway.

“Sure, lend me your copy once you're done with it." If she’s surprised by his answer, she does not tell her. But Adler thinks she’s smiling though- just the barest quirk of her lips, but it’s enough for him to know that she appreciates the gesture.

A brief, unmapped silence ensues.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

Adler arches an eyebrow at her. "For what?"

Bell slots a bookmark into the book, closes it, frowns at it.

"For yesterday. I, uh… I feel like I was being insolent to you.”

He looks sidelong at Bell and tries to read her. Her expression is raw and open, a painting visible through a small tear in the paper. For some reason, that catches him by surprise.

“You already apologized, you know?” Adler teases lamely.

“I know, but still it was uncalled for and very unprofessional of me. You’re my CO, not some random BND agent I’m forced to work with. I shouldn’t have said that," she mumbles softly and sighs, world-weary, heavy, sounding like a woman twice her age. "It will not happen again. I promise you."

"Hey, consider it water under the bridge, kid. You’re in a rather rough place right now, I wouldn’t hold it against you,” he tells her, fond. “What matters is you’re alright. We can’t catch Perseus if you’re green around the gills.”

Her eyes meet his. He meets her back.

“Thank you.” And Bell rotates her body to face him. Mussed brunette hair and sharp cheekbones, mouth kinked up in sympathy as she says, “Is this what you have to put up with all these years?"

He summons a smirk. "With you? More or less."

And then the woman does the unexpected; Bell laughs. She fucking laughs. Delicate sounding, like a tinkling glass, petals wrapped in satin, moonbeams through frosted windows. It dies, too soon to his liking. Adler privately lets the sound of her laughter replays in his head, as if trying to pocket it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s only after Ukraine when he discovers that she smells different. That wintry floral smell of hers that he’s accustomed to is commingling with something else.

But now-

Now, there's music in the air.

Sims does this sometimes, bringing his Zenith Trans-Oceanic, or as he would call it the Tranny, to the safehouse and they would tune in to international radio stations. Cream's Sunshine Of Your Love is playing- or more specifically, their song is 5 seconds away from being cut off abruptly by the DJ. The song reminds him of Vietnam, regrettably. The root of all madness.

“Next up, is my favorite ever track-to-track transition on an album. This is Pink Floyd’s Brain Damage and-”

Adler stops whatever it is he’s scribbling. He sits up, ramrod straight.

“Mind switching to another station?” he asks suddenly, glances up at Sims quickly who, as Adler suspected, is giving him a rather odd look.

“Why?”

"I've always hated Pink Floyd." Only because he’s out of reason. Only because he can feel Bell’s confused stare, searing into his temple. Only because it’s the only way of escaping this. "Change it, please."

Sims opens his mouth. The unspoken: how about that time in Denver?

The telling jerk of Adler’s lips warns him not to ask.

The other man clamps his mouth shut, seemingly gets the message and switches to a different station. He never brings his radio again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Frank Woods is exactly how Adler saw him last time- or since Hue City, that is: tigerish and intimidating- a kick in the head voice, a hurricane in the shape of a man and he is making his way to him right now.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?”

"So talk."

Woods shakes his head. "Not here."

Adler looks at him at last now, curiosity creeping over him. He then stubs his cigarette, nods once and leads them both to his office.

Once they’re inside, he locks the door, secures the blinds.

“What is it?” Adler takes a seat behind his desk. Woods remains standing. He paces around the room, a hand on his bearded chin.

“What the fuck is going on with your girl?”

Adler doesn’t know which one is worse, the fact that Woods manages to sniff out something going on with Bell or that he just addresses her as his girl. Either way, it's bad. Either way, Adler should have expected the former issue. Woods is astute as he is dangerous. There's a reason why the CIA gave the green light for Mason and Hudson to save him in Da Nang all those years ago, after all.

"What about her?" Adler asks, even-toned, giving nothing away. Even though he is in the ‘need to know’ column regarding Bell’s brainwashing, this is something Adler initially wishes he could keep under wraps.

“Don’t bullshit me, Adler. She has that look on her face- I see it in her eyes. The exact same look Mason has been wearing since ‘Nam,” Woods tells him, point-blank, never being the one to settle for niceties. After Hudson, Adler thinks he simply can’t tolerate the agency anymore.

“I saw it all, remember? Had a fucking front row seat to his relapse and shit, so don’t tell me she’s alright. Not when it looks like she could snap out of it any moment.” Woods has his hands on the table and looks at him dead-on. “Tell me I’m right. Tell me there is something wrong with her.”

He regards the other man coolly. Woods is no longer asking. Adler is out of move.

“You're right,” he answers simply, eventually, tipping his king over on its side, stopping the clock. "Did you talk to Hudson regarding this?"

"Since when did I report to Agent stick-up-his-ass? Fuck no. That's why I came straight to you.” Woods heaves a heavy sigh, like he’s the one with all these burdens. “Now, what the hell’s wrong with her?”

“She’s suffering from brain damage."

“Shit. All that ‘cause of MK-Ultra?”

“One of the few factors that caused it, yes.”

His mouth goes flat. "How bad is it?”

“Bad. We’re trying to minimize for any collateral as we speak, at least until we finally get our hands on Perseus. But she… she might not make it.” Adler leans back in his chair, like his body feels heavy all of the sudden.

Woods nods. Uncharacteristically silent, looking strangely contemplative, sympathetic even. That should be categorized as an oddity itself, Woods and him, two proud Americans, Vietnam veterans and she’s just another red, another blood they would indubitably sacrifice for their country and they’re sympathizing with her? Yet something deep inside Adler, something resonates like the throat of a storm, sinks its teeth into him, confounds him, every time he thinks of her.

Woods crosses his arms over his chest, glances at the door, as if someone might knock anytime soon, then back to him.

"So, what's the plan?" He quickly adds, "if things go south, what are you gonna do?"

"It won't come to that. She'll come through, I know it," Adler counters, suddenly defensive. Whatever the use of his tone indicates, Woods ignores it.

"You sure about that?”

"Are you doubting me?” Adler spits out a retort. A quiet fury grasps him tight, but he forces himself to keep under a tight lid.

Woods holds his hands up in mock surrender.

"Look, I’m just saying, that woman is a loose cannon- you can’t be too careful."

"We have everything under control, Woods. And this is the least of your worry right now."

"Alright, okay. If you say you and Park have her contained already, then fine. I trust you,” he says and heads for the door.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Woods says again. He’s facing the door, back to him. “Whatever happens, keep Mason in the dark about any of this."

“Of course. He isn’t on a need to know basis from the very start, you know that.”

"Good. ‘cause the less he knows the better." Woods pauses like he's constructing an entire sentence in his head. He peers over his shoulder. "I mean it. He’s been through enough. I don’t know which ground you crawled up from, but up here, some people implement this kind of civility to other people.”

The words sting, yet Adler stares back at him, seemingly unfazed. "What, you’re saying that I’m simply heartless?”

“Nah,” Woods says, satirical and sardonic. “You’re just Adler.” And with that, he’s gone.

1976

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was eight o'clock on a mid-September evening and Adler found himself coming home to an empty house.

His wife had already left a week prior, crossing the country with a self-proclaimed film critic she'd met at the premiere of The Shining last summer, but Adler didn't know that yet.

He went to the kitchen. Dropped his suitcase, pulled off his coat and scarf. He reeked of cigarettes, cheap air freshener and jet fuel- air travel is simply sickening, in terms of its cost and smell- and in a desperate need of a hot bath.

"Honey?" He switched the lights on. She wasn't here. So Adler headed upstairs, to their room where they would rest their bones every night for the past 15 years. The door was slightly ajar. He expected to see her sleeping from under the duvet, hair splaying all over the pillow.

What he found was a folded note on his bedside table. He stared at it, his heart at his throat, fearing the worst, the unimaginable. He picked the letter and unfolded it.

Forgive me.

Russell,

Live or die, but don't poison everything .

His head did pirouette. So, this was it. This was what it felt like, he thought.

Not heartbreak, not sadness. But a collapse of the world- his world and all he could do was watch from the sidelines.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

1981

Adler stares at the words now, sleeves rolled up, anatomical heart. The paper is fading, wrinkled and it smells like smoke and decay and tears, capped with something akin to regret.

It has his name on it, begins with it, and ends with an apology, written in cursive. Like microscopic snakes dancing around his peripheral vision, hissing in his ears.

Live or die, but don't poison everything.

No one likes to be told that they are sick, but Russell Adler has learned to acknowledge it, embrace it, weaponize it. Her words mean zero shit to him now. You can't condemn someone to the depths of hell when it's the only place he's known all his life.

So, he takes the letter for the last time, remembering how the ink used to smudge his calloused fingers, crumples it up, that satisfying crunch dins in his palm, and tosses it into the fireplace.

The paper crackles. Good fucking riddance. It really takes all this time for him to grow the guts, apparently, and he just stares and stares as the fire begins to engulf everything, wiping away his past failure.

He promises he would never fail again, at anything. No matter what the cost, failure is never going to be an option.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bell arrives at the garage with frantic eyes, a half-burnt cigarette between her lips and uncharacteristically late. Color peppering her cheeks- red, like an apple bitten into.

“I’m sorry, I overslept,” is her excuse, but she’s looking at the room strangely, he thinks, almost like she’s seeking a particular face.

When she makes her way to her desk, when she whizzes past him by the board and her planet is entering his orbit for the first time in the morning, Adler, as if by accident or by design, inhales deeply.

His breath snags.

She smells like someone else.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(Someone fucked her last night)

The telephone rings in the distance.

“Sims. Yeah, sure, let me get him. Hold on.” He puts the call on hold. “Doc, you might wanna take this one.”

(Someone was in her bed; beside her, above her, under her. Inside her. He imagines her fingers digging into the mattress as they rolled her onto her stomach, mouth trailing down the ladder of her spine. Their breaths intermingled in the seraphic glow of her hotel room)

Adler mechanically crosses the room and picks the receiver.

“Adler.”

(If he herds her away from prying eyes and pushes down the collar of her shirt, would he see the evidence there, taunting him? If he kisses her, would he taste them instead of her? )

"Perhaps," he says over the phone, his face hard. "But my decision is final. I'm sending Woods and Mason to Yamantau. They'll leave in a few days."

(Did they make her come?)

"Of course. Why do you think I chose them for this mission?"

(If she made them?)

“Most likely, but we're prepared for this- you know we are," Adler says, customer service polite, an old recording on a playback. "Right. Well, that concludes the matter then. Yeah, you have a wonderful day to yourself.”

Adler hangs up the telephone. Breathes out a sigh. He pinches the bridge of his nose for a few good seconds, before remembering that he has an audience.

"Oof. Sounds rough," comments Sims, dark eyes slanting in concern.

(Maybe she likes that, rough. Teeth biting the back of her shoulder, that sweet juxtaposition of pain and pleasure coursing through their veins, his hand curling around her throat from behind as she pants and mewls like-)

(But this isn’t about him. Never about him)

"That's one way to put it."

Someone else fucked her. It shouldn't leave an acrid taste in his mouth, but it does.

[airashisakura]

Late submission for @fantasysasusaku SasuSaku Fantasy Week Day 6 - Soulmate/ Prophecy/ Reincarnation

Title: Embodiment of his Fate

Pairing: Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Sasuke

A/N: A mythology from my country had inspired me to write this piece. This was supposed to be posted during the event, but it got unusually long and took a lot of time than I expected. Also this first AU written by me.

FFN AO3

****

Part I

Sasuke — the lone wanderer — didn’t expect again to see the embodiment of his fate in green and pink. Even the gods were sometimes astonished, and Sasuke, the god of catastrophe, felt his world shaking when a pair of tired yet cheerful eyes smiled at him.

“Sakura?” he asked, every syllable carrying disbelief. He bit his tongue as the forbidden name left his mouth, because the Sakura he knew and loved had died long ago.

The owner of shining jade eyes and rosy coloured hair nodded at him. “I’ve been waiting for you, Sasuke.”

Her words echoed more than the thunderstorms he created. He had heard those words before rolling out from a certain pinkette's mouth. He recognised the ‌same words and her loving tone, but only in memories of a time long ago.

Was she the Sakura he knew? Was it an illusion borne out of his longing? Or was she a reincarnation?

****

Sasuke had always been alone — without any roots and attachments. He didn’t know his family or when and where he was born. He grew up in the darkness of the Ryuchi caves, his only companions being snakes. They were neither his friends nor his enemies, but he polished his basic instincts by observing and mimicking them.

Over time, Sasuke became an invincible warrior — one who rivaled Naruto. Over time, he earned the dignity of a God alongside Naruto.

Sasuke’s sole purpose was to destroy the imperfections and illusions, paving the way for beneficial change. His kind of destruction wasn’t arbitrary but constructive. He was thus seen both as good and evil and regarded as one who combines contradictory elements.

Naruto, unlike Sasuke, had a peaceful demeanor — being praised as God of Preservation — and nourished the world and its being. They worked in sync and ran the cycle of life — destroying the life which was futile and restoring a better life from the ashes.

Their ideologies were different, but they created a perfect balance. Naruto thrived on building bonds and made judgments with compassion, always forgiving and guiding misled souls. Sasuke, on the other hand, was more extreme — he always took an eye for an eye and a hand for a hand, but he wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t forgiving like Naruto either, and he claimed that his sense of judgement was always clearer. Sasuke despised Naruto’s philosophy. In his perspective, being enslaved to mere emotions would bring no good to the world.

Sasuke was pure consciousness, completely without pretension, never repetitive, always spontaneous, forever inventive, ceaselessly creative, and passionate about his actions.

One day, when Naruto and Sasuke were settling their arguments with a battle, Kakashi, a wise and mischievous messenger between Gods of Heaven and Kings of Earth, noticed how passionately Sasuke wielded his sword. The more Kakashi saw of Sasuke, the more he was in awe of him. His cunning mind bore a wish. He wanted to see how passionately this man could build bonds.

Kakashi knew Sasuke would be enraged if he approached him. Instead, he plotted a conspiracy. He went to The Creator himself — the one who created the world and appointed the protector and the destroyer. Hagoromo himself was amused by Kakashi’s proposal, but he watched Sasuke and saw the stillness surrounding him — the pain that Sasuke was unable to see himself. Hagoromo took pity and advised Kakashi to go to The Land of Fire.

Konohagakure, the capital of the Land of Fire, was prosperous and mighty, ruled by Queen Tsunade. The queen was strong willed and stubborn and feared no catastrophe. She had always been the one who harshly criticized Sasuke’s way of living and his actions.

Kakashi was a shrewd diplomat and knew he could never succeed in convincing the Queen to do what Hagoromo suggested, so he tricked her. He told her that The Creator himself wanted her beautiful kingdom to prosper more and had decided to present a gift to her. Tsunade was thrilled to know that, and the wise lady was unable to see behind Kakashi’s conspiracy.

A holy fire always burned at the heart of The Land of Fire. This fire was regarded pious because it had been burning since the beginning of civilization. The strongest of rains and harshest of winds were never able to extinguish the holy fire. The high raging flames were Tsunade’s pride and she believed no one, even The Gods themselves could demolish her Kingdom.

As promised, a beautiful adolescent girl emerged from that fire. As the girl descended from the altar, the mere touch of her soles made the earth more fertile, and her smile brought serenity.

People called her The New Goddess, and she was named Sakura. Her beauty was ethereal and her voice sweeter than honey. The shade of her eyes rivaled emerald and her hair was as graceful as cherry blossoms. Her laugh jingled with air as melodious as an angel's song. She possessed a heart brimming with compassion and love that melted even the coldest of hearts.

Tsunade, a fierce and strong tempered woman, developed a motherly instinct towards her. Sakura churned out love from the depths of the heart of the warrior queen. Tsunade found peace in Sakura’s presence and loved doing mundane things with her. Tsunade treated Sakura like her own daughter and doted on her.

As years passed by, Sakura bloomed, and she mastered everything Tsunade had taught her. Tsunade was elated and boasted that she would make her a warrior and queen like herself.

Tsunade didn’t trust many people around Sakura. She considered Sakura a precious entity and kept her hidden from the eyes of the unknown and evil. However, Kakashi was neither unknown nor evil, and thus he met Sakura routinely and helped her with her growing loneliness.

“What does freedom feel like?” she had asked Kakashi one day while her eyes drifted out from her windows, trying to see the boundaries of the Konoha.

Kakashi knew what she was talking about, but he remained silent, finding the best possible way to introduce her to the character for whom he had conspired everything.

“I want to see what’s outside those big gates.”

Sakura looked towards Kakashi, expecting an answer, and added, her voice fading, “And know more people.”

Tsunade had told her that she was destined to be the queen of this land, and so she couldn’t befriend anybody she wanted.

Kakashi silently mocked the situation. A goddess boon for a kingdom, bane for herself.

“Do you want to meet someone who can show you the real essence of freedom?”

Sakura nodded, her green eyes sparkling with eagerness.

Kakashi’s eyes crinkled at her innocence — how prophecy was working in the background, without her knowledge.

“There’s one problem though.” Kakashi rubbed his chin, squinting his eyes.

Sakura gave him a questioning look, and Kakashi said in a hushed, secretive voice, “He doesn’t like meeting anybody.”

“Huh? But why?” Sakura demanded, her voice two octaves higher than Kakashi’s.

Kakashi laughed at her innocence again.

“Oh! Tell me, where can I meet him? And would mother allow me?” she asked hopefully, fidgeting with the laces of her gown.

Kakashi’s relaxed face became serious. However, he knew how to outsmart the legendary Queen herself.

“Well, you have to go to Shikkotsu Forest.”

Sakura looked bewildered, as she had never heard of the place before.

“You don’t know where it is, do you?” Kakashi asked, and Sakura shook her head with a frown.

“Don’t worry. I’ll escort you there.” Kakashi smiled softly to her, but before Sakura could run down to tell Tsunade about her adventure, Kakashi interrupted. “However, don’t tell The Queen that you are going to meet someone. You know right? The Queen doesn’t like that.”

Sakura nodded again, saddened by the fact that she had to lie, but the thrill of the impending adventure washed away her guilt.

Kakashi then convinced Tsunade to follow his plan by pointing out that Katsuyu, the slug from Shikkotsu forest, had always served the Queen and for Sakura to succeed her throne in the future, she must know Katsuyu and Shikkotsu woods. Tsunade was convinced and, although unwillingly, gave her permission.

Dressed in the attire of a warrior and saddled upon a horse, she waved goodbye to her mother and the kingdom. The horse kicked the ground and started running at full speed, and Sakura wondered why she hadn’t thought of exploring outside the high walls of the palace before. She had always thought Konoha was a paradise, but as she crossed mile after mile, she realised the world outside Konoha was much more chaotic and beautiful.

Sometimes they slowed down, and the horses lazily strolled while she and Kakashi chatted. Kakashi would tell her about the magical slug Katsuyu and how she would be going to live in the wilderness. She also learned a little more about the man she was going to meet.

He is the embodiment of stillness and energy both, she had remembered Kakashi saying. His face carried a calm and stoic expression while inside he was chaotic and frightful. He remained still and unmoving when he reflected on his purpose, and yet he moved with a lightning speed when he executed his actions.

His stillness and energy both intrigued Sakura more. She had never felt so lively before, and as she reached closer to Shikkotsu forest, she couldn’t wait more to taste how it felt — how freedom looked like.

Almost a year passed, and Sakura had accepted Shikkotsu woods as her new home. Her silky hair grew longer and unruly, and she tied it up in a messy knot. The dresses she had brought with herself were old and torn, and she learned how to sew them. She spent hours after hours collecting food and grew more petite. What didn’t change was her radiant beauty and the mesmerizing smile that never left her lips.

She remembered her mother’s command clearly:

Learn healing magic from Katsuyu. When you become The Queen, it will benefit the people of the Kingdom.

Sakura never strayed from her routine with Katsuyu, gaining knowledge about the secrets of magical power that the slug possessed.

After that, she spent most of her time sitting on the wooden branches of a tree, looking towards the entrance of the forest. Sometimes she swung her legs in impatience, sometimes disappointment took over, and sometimes she mulled over her decision to leave the kingdom. She had waited for almost two years now and sadness took over her face when she realised the day wasn’t far when her mother would send an army to escort her back.

Although a goddess who could do wonders waited for a man and her destiny.

When Kakashi had informed him that a certain intruder had invaded Shikkostu woods, Sasuke had scoffed when he found a frail lady roaming through the forest.

“What possible harm could she cause?” he’d said.

Kakashi chuckled under his breath.

Unless cold-blooded God knew, she had the capability to destroy his ultimate defense of indifference.

Sasuke became curious and went to Shikkotsu forest to know what a princess was doing there. When he arrived, he found no trace of her and thought she had left. He was about to leave, when he heard a rustling sound behind him. He turned, sighing that the intruder hadn’t left. Before he could say anything, the same fragile lady had already released an arrow from the bow.

He hadn’t expected much, but even less had he expected to meet her in the middle of Shikkotsu forest with blood dripping out from his chest where her arrow had pierced him. A pair of perplexed green eyes pierced his onyx while he struggled to stand straight but failed and stumbled to the ground.

Sakura didn’t realise she had shot the man she had been waiting for instead of some intruder until she took a minute to tally the features that Kakashi had supplied her with. Chiseled jawline, one visible onyx eye and another hidden under his raven locks, a face that was sharp as blade, and an expression hard as rock. The visible anger in his eye and the scowl that marred his face was undeniably attractive.

Sakura rushed towards him, bracing him in her arms. She could feel his ragged breathing tickling on her shoulders as he mumbled, “Sakura?”

Her eyes widened, but before she could brace herself for the next blow, she spoke out, “I’ve been waiting for you, Sasuke.”

She was bewildered, and he was unconscious. She stayed still, contemplating the situation. They were meeting for the first time. They’d never known each other, and they didn't know each other’s name, yet how smoothly their names rolled out of each other tongues.

When Sasuke gained consciousness, he saw a mop of messy pink hair. Although he felt his blood boiling because never in his whole life had he been knocked unconscious, but the presence of the woman whose back he could see pacified him. He didn’t know how, but it did. His throat was dry and his lips felt chapped, and he coughed, notifying his intruder that he was awake.

Sakura turned towards her intruder, getting off from her place where she was crushing and mixing some herbs with a mortar and pestle. She offered him water and apologised for earlier. Sasuke’s sour expression told her that her apology wasn’t accepted. She sighed, berating herself for the mistake. She had shot the man she had been waiting for.

How was she supposed to fix this?

Her fingers trembled as she layered herbs on his wound. She could feel his heart beating, and it felt oddly familiar — like she was well versed with the rhythm.

“How do you know my name?” She broke the silence.

Sasuke gave her a confused look, and then it dawned upon him that he had never met her before. He was speechless, somewhat unable to explain and somewhat lost in her eyes. What was happening to him? Whenever he looked into those deep green abysses, he felt he was losing, and for the first time ever, it felt good.

One day while Sakura was nursing him, she shared with him the prophecy she’d been told, ignoring his gruff and uninterested look. Sasuke walked away from her, stating he had been alone since birth and intended to be that way. He tried to sneak out, but Sakura demanded that he should stay until he was healed. He didn’t want to comply because he never had to anyone, but somehow the concern in her face made him. It felt good — someone worried for him — someone taking care of him.

He later regretted his decision when Sakura became too comfortable with him.

He was on his side trying to get some sleep when Sakura asked him out of nowhere, “What does freedom feel like?”

He glared at her, irritated she had interrupted his sweet sleep.

Next when she was coaxing him to eat something, and Sasuke sat there looking outside at the falling rain without responding to her tantrums, Sakura huffed in anger, “Why don’t you at least talk?”

He couldn’t explain what he had felt when he saw her sleeping face under the moonlight. It felt like anesthesia — lulling his senses — sending him to a deeper state of peacefulness. All the years of fighting, slaying and punishing wrong-doers started to feel futile. He snuck out of the forest that night because he knew he would be destroyed if he stayed with her any longer.

Prophecy was working in the background, and something unexpected happened. He found himself again at Shikkotsu forest with, finding way back to Sakura.

“Welcome back.”

When he found Sakura smiling back at him — smiling for him — he felt he had made the right decision to return

He was fishing for lunch while Sakura sat beside him, gazing at the floating clouds. She asked, breaking the silence, “Does freedom feel like this? Being you and doing all you want.”

He turned towards her, and noticed a wistful smile playing on her lips and offered, “I will show you, if you come with me.”

Every god and demigod was astonished. They have never seen Sasuke, the lone wanderer, indulging in life, bonds, or attachments. Kakashi sipped wine while watching Sasuke fall passionately in love.

The news spread like fire, and it didn’t take much time to reach Tsunade’s ears. She was infuriated and commanded her army to drag Sakura back. Before Sakura could explain the unexplainable bond that had developed between them, Tsunade lashed out at her. She criticized both Sakura’s decision and the man who she had given her heart. Sakura was put under watch, locked up in a room as punishment for her actions.

Perhaps punishing her for the fate that she carried from the day when she was born.

The decision was hers — to be caged and become The Queen or to flee and embrace freedom.

She chose the latter. Chose the path that the prophecy had led her to. Chose the stranger who had tugged the strings of her heart.

In the darkness of night as the horse galloped, Sakura looked back for the last time, and the kingdom disappeared on the horizon with a new life waiting for her.

She had everything, yet she had felt empty. When she abandoned everything, she felt complete.

When Sakura stepped into their new abode, she found piles of snow and chilly winds blowing around. She had spent part of her life under warm sunshine and the royal ceiling. For a princess, it was difficult to adjust, but alongside all adversities, there was unadulterated love — love that had lifted the weight of expectations of royal duties from her shoulders. She felt like home, the feeling Konoha couldn’t give her.

Now she spent her days carelessly. Some days she would rest her head on his shoulder and look at the horizon as far as her eyes would allow. Some days they would travel, disguising themselves as commoners. And at those moments, she took liberty of her newfound freedom — forgetting she was a goddess — and mingled with people of unknown places.

And Sasuke let her be random and spontaneous — like him.

Perhaps this was the freedom she yearned for and had searched all over these years. Sasuke didn’t teach her how to live. Instead, his presence influenced her. She would sit silently and watch with awe when he stayed still and meditated or practiced with his sword.

The one who never knew the meaning of home had made a home at the top of The Three Wolves Mountain. Sasuke, who hadn’t known feelings, started feeling multitudes of emotions. Love and companionship were the words he had despised, but now he could understand why his counterpart, Naruto, bragged about them. Sakura made his existence meaningful, showing him beauty in the things he had often dismissed.

Her presence never became a chain for him, and she never overstepped her boundaries or meddled with Sasuke’s work. He still had a clear view of judgement, with a pinch of compassion that he had learned from her. He hadn’t shed his furious demeanor, but he reconsidered his motives before acting.

Sasuke as the world knew him had untamed passion, which led him to be extreme in behaviour. Sometimes he was an ascetic — abstaining from worldly pleasure. At others he was a hedonist — indulging every bit in marital bliss.

Living with Sakura brought him balance.

****

Part II

“Don’t you understand? You’re the future Queen. You can’t fall in love with someone who has nothing and is a lunatic murderer.”

Tsunade’s blood had been boiling with anger when she learned about the prophecy that had been crafted right under her nose. She had believed that her daughter was innocent, and it was just a filthy trick that Kakashi was playing on her until she had heard Sakura pleading.

“Please let me go.”

Honey-colored eyes filled with anger and hurt glanced towards Sakura.

Sakura spoke again, albeit afraid of Tsunade. After that, Tsunade didn't lock Sakura away. She wanted to test Sakura’s resolve — test her loyalty and love towards her and Konoha.

The next morning she was greeted with the news that the princess had eloped.

If she wanted to, she could have hunted her down, but Tsunade clearly remembered Sakura’s final words from their last conversation.

“I want to live with Sasuke… I don’t want to live here anymore.”

Although she allowed Sakura to become part of Sasuke’s life, she never accepted them, and she could never forget the sting of Sakura’s words. She hated Sasuke more for taking Sakura away from her.

After some years had passed, Tsunade decided to hold a festival in the honor of the good harvest that had sprouted from the Land of Fire. She invited every god and demigod, every lord across the nation, even the commoners and beggars. She wanted to share the happiness that she had lost after she had last seen her daughter. She couldn’t lie to herself that she still loved Sakura dearly, although she had disowned her from her heart and cared less about her whereabouts.

That’s the price Sakura would pay, she thought, because everyone was welcomed, except Sasuke and Sakura.

While Sakura and Sasuke were enjoying their routine of sitting together in silence, Sakura noticed a lot of traffic — the finest of chariots, all the lords, gods and goddesses going somewhere dressed immaculately.

Sasuke noticed she was distracted by the commotion. He knew exactly what was happening and where all of them were going, but he said nothing.

Sakura couldn’t hold back her curiosity and she asked, “What is this? Where is everyone going?”

“It doesn’t matter. We don’t need to go where they are going,” Sasuke replied, ignoring her.

Sakura knew the roads the others traveled led towards her old home. She became more restless, and she asked Sasuke again, “It seems like everyone is going to Konoha. Is something happening there?”

“Don’t bother yourself. We are fine here,” Sasuke replied curtly.

Seeing Sakura disappointed, he finally let out his biggest insecurity, “Are you unhappy here?”

“No, I’m happy here,” Sakura smiled, giving up on her curiosity.

The next day when she saw the same, she didn’t pester Sasuke again. Instead she stopped one of the chariots and asked them, “Where are you all going?”

They replied, “Don’t you know? There’s a big festival in Konoha, and your mother has invited all of us. Are you not coming?”

She felt totally lost when she came to know that she and her husband had not been invited. She felt disgraced and humiliated. She thought it wasn’t fair to her and Sasuke.

She was deeply bothered by this and decided, “I am going to my mother. Why did she do this?”

Sasuke said, “It doesn’t matter to me. Why are you getting worked up? We are fine here. Why should we go to the festival?”

Sakura was so insulted that she wasn’t invited that she didn’t want to listen to anything. Although she knew she had fled from the Kingdom without her mother's permission, she was sure Tsunade still loved her like she loved Tsunade.

She argued, “No, I have to go. There must be some kind of mistake. Maybe the invitation was lost. How can she not invite you and me? I am her daughter.”

Sasuke reasoned, “You left her for me. I don’t see anything unusual in not inviting you.”

Sakura stomped out of their abode infuriated, “My mother isn’t like that. I am sure she wouldn’t do this.”

Sasuke knew there was no point in arguing so he sent his most faithful snake Aoda as escort and pleaded with her not to provoke any incident.

When Sakura reached the huge gates of Konoha, she didn’t find any resistance, but the old familiar people were cold and inhospitable. She ordered Aoda to stay outside, and she walked towards the palace. She was trying to respond to the odd vibes that people were giving her by smiling at everyone while she made her way to her mother. The place and the people seemed to be changed, or was she changed? Perhaps Sasuke was right, but she was too stubborn to accept that. She ignored all the cold glares and mocking tones and went into the palace, still believing that there was some kind of a mistake.

“Mother,” Sakura greeted and bowed when she found Tsunade.

“Mother?” Tsunade spat back. Tsunade was furious. She never thought Sakura would have the audacity to show her face again and to call her mother.

“My daughter died the day when she turned her back on the Kingdom.”

Sakura was on the verge of crying out, because Tsunade made it clear that Sasuke’s words were the truth. She wanted to leave, but she didn’t. She wanted to know why Tsunade had always despised Sasuke. Why he himself, being a God, was not acknowledged by The Queen.

She asked Tsunade, holding back her tears, “How can you not invite Sasuke?”

Tsunade abused Sasuke in every possible way, and she added, “I will never have him step into my Kingdom.”

She could swallow her own pride and could take more insults, but she couldn’t stand more to her mother dishonoring Sasuke. Soon they were in the midst of a heated argument, and every passing moment made it clearer to Sakura that her mother was entirely incapable of appreciating the many excellent qualities that her husband possessed. She was consumed by rage against her mother and loathed her mentality.

The realization then came to her that this abuse was being heaped on Sasuke more only because he had wed her. She was the cause of dishonor to her husband. She was so crestfallen that her love had brought more hatred for Sasuke. Sasuke gave her love, yet she had brought him disgrace.

She was shaking with raw anger, tears welling out of her green eyes. She wanted others to acknowledge Sasuke like she did — pure and gentle behind his facade. She thought with her life she could show that to the world.

She didn’t want to be there, but neither did she want to go back to The Three Wolves Mountain. She walked towards the fire from where she was born. She didn’t want to live a life where her love bore hatred to Sasuke. Calling up a prayer, that in future birth, to be born in a house where Sasuke was respected, Sakura invoked divine powers and burned herself.

If she had to die and take birth again to restore his honor, she would die million times.

When Aoda came back and told him about what had happened in Konoha, Sasuke sat still for a certain period. He felt all the happiness, all the colors that Sakura brought with her fading — he felt his sanity leaving. How could he let Sakura go? How dare she do such a thing?

Sakura had given him love and a home — things that were unknown to him. How dare she leave for such an insignificant reason? She was his pride and honor, and he didn’t need any appreciation from others. How could she have misunderstood that? He didn’t need the pride which took her away from him. Thus he shed his sanity that was straining him to wreak havoc — he became fire. For the first time, he became disillusioned and decided to take revenge on the innocents.

Burning with incomparable rage, he used the mighty powers of his eyes and burned the whole kingdom using Amaterasu. They had provoked her to burn herself, hence he watched everyone and everything that had snatched his wife from him burn.

When the flames inside him and of Amaterasu had subsided, he realised how ungodly he had acted. He let his emotions rule over his actions, but hadn’t he given in to his emotions since he had met Sakura? Maybe he had always despised emotions, because he was afraid he would get drowned in them and could never manage to reach the shore again.

His work was to destroy the elements that couldn't be fixed. He was broken and his emotions were far from repairable. After the throes of romance, death and grief, he decided to destroy the emotions that had been born in him because of Sakura.

He had loved Sakura more than any and would never love after her.

He had allowed himself the luxury once and when it was over, he came out of it and went into an indifferent state again. He went into meditation for many years, deeply upset over the death of his wife, ignoring all his duties.

****

Every destruction acted as a progenitor. Within the barren and burned hectares of the Land of Fire, a small village was born after many years. The village was always covered in spring blossoms, and the people were merry, carefree, and had a profound belief in Gods and their power. They revered Sasuke most, considering him the progenitor of beginning that had given a chance to sow over barren land and produce bountifully. They were hard workers, but humble enough to believe in the grace of Gods.

Sasuke, unaware of the fact, still meditated, grieving for his wife. Still unaware that his beloved had already taken birth again...

Sakura was reborn as a human — the daughter of Kizashi, the leader of Haruno tribe and his wife, Mebuki. This time, Sakura, as she had wished, was born to a family where Sasuke was worshiped ardently.

Sakura, unaware of her past, the prophecy, and the tragedy grew into a beautiful woman. Many lords asked her for marriage, but she always denied them. She always had an innate feeling that someone already had taken her heart, but she didn’t know who.

When Kakashi came to know that the goddess had lost the memories of her previous birth, he appeared in front of her parents. Regretting the path he had taken last time, he confronted her parents about her previous birth, the prophecy, and the fate that linked Sasuke and their daughter.

Kizashi and Mebuki were overwhelmed with joy after knowing this. However, Sakura was skeptical about it and questioned Kakashi.

“Go to Shikkotsu Forest. The answers to all your questions lie there,” Kakashi advised.

Sakura, with her parents’ permission, went to Shikkotsu forest, and as she spent days under the canopy where she had found her freedom once, she learned from Katsuyu to whom her heart belonged.

The moment when she remembered all about her past, she grew restless. At once she left for The Three Wolves Mountain — Sasuke’s home — their home. When she reached there, she found Sasuke lost in meditation.

Years passed, but she waited for Sasuke to open his eyes and to look at her and realize that she was there — as promised.

But Sasuke was deeply lost.

Although a human this time, Sakura was still stubborn.

She sat there in spite of the bitter chilly winds that rattled her bones. She didn’t move an inch to gather food even though her stomach hurt from hunger. She didn’t blink her eyes in spite of how much they threatened to close because of exhaustion.

Perhaps love was invincible — the strongest force that again moved the coldest heart.

Sasuke opened his eyes after many uncountable years. Something that he couldn’t pinpoint had stirred him out of his deep state. He rose in fury. How could anyone dare do that? Wasn’t tricking him once enough?

He swore he would see the death of the person who had disturbed him. He walked outside to see a lady whose head and shoulders were covered with snow, shivering.

His brows knitted in irritation because no one had stepped in The Three Wolves Mountain except Sakura.

The lady straightened herself, feeling his presence. Sasuke wasn’t ready to listen to any of her justifications.

Because no had stepped in their abode except Sakura, and no one would.

****

Although he was elated to see her again, what Sakura has done was unforgivable. Sasuke was bewildered. All these years of abandoning his emotions fell away when he felt a surge of love and hatred, fear and longing, hurt and comfort coursed through him.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to live with regrets and guilt earlier,” Sakura confessed to him, filling up the details of the past.

He realised the diamond mark on her forehead was gone. She was still beautiful and the smile he had longed to see was still graceful. Undoubtedly, she was Sakura, his wife. She was no longer a goddess though. She had sacrificed her divine powers for him.

He was scared to lose her again. He didn’t want to believe in the prophecy that had once taken Sakura away from her, but he listened peacefully to everything.

“This time will be different. Trust me, I'm not leaving you anywhere,” Sakura smiled, and assured Sasuke.

Who was Sasuke to defy her plea? Their love was weaved in the form of prophecy which defied cycles of lifes and deaths. No matter how far they go, they are bound to be together at the end.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis is a series that looks at villains across various media in the hopes of coming to something of a consensus on the overall quality of the character. Are they performed well? Do they enrich the narrative? Are their motives fleshed out? Are they voiced by Tim Curry and thus a sex icon? 

There are a lot of important questions that I look into, but ultimately, Psycho Analysis boils down to asking one simple little question: How bad can a character be?

Thankfully, there’s one villain who decided to answer that question for me... in song form.

Psycho Analysis: The Once-ler

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Yeah, I’m finally talking about everyone’s favorite greedy bastard who, back in some of the darkest days of Tumblr history, ended up being the premier sexyman on the website. People were thirsting over this twiggy weirdo, acting as if he were God’s gift to women and shipping him with alternate versions of himself. Much like the movie he’s from, he is now incredibly hard to take seriously.

But hey, speaking of alternate versions of himself, I’m going to be covering him from the original book and the animated short film as well. Might as well just knock it all out of the park at once, right? Now let’s see how ba-a-a-ad this guy can be.

Motivation/Goals: The Once-ler is all about biggering. He’s making thneeds (things that everyone needs) and he is gonna stop at nothing to craft these things. Not even the power of the Lorax, Danny DeVito or otherwise, is going to stay his hand from getting that sweet, soft Truffula fluff to make his wares. This is ultimately a little unrealistic, at least for the Illumination version; if Danny DeVito asked me not to do something, I’d listen, no questions asked.

Performance: In the animated special, Bob Holt does double duty, as he is portraying both Once-ler and the title character. It works really well for what they’re going for, and the double casting is interesting because it highlights the ultimate role of the Lorax as the Once-ler’s conscience given form.

In the film, Ed Helms portrays the Once-ler, and he’s fine. He’s certainly better casting than Audrey, but that’s not particularly saying much considering that’s a non-singing Taylor Swift (when Cats is able to utilize Taylor Swift better than your musical, you know there’s trouble). I don’t know, Ed Helms is fun and all, but I’m just not sure his take on the Once-ler is all too compelling overall.

Final Fate: In the original book and the special, the Once-ler wins… but even he realizes it’s a terrible, pointless victory, and all he has achieved is ruin, his family leaving him, his business ultimately collapsing, and the environment permanently damaged. He’s left as a miserable, jaded hermit, broken by the bleak consequences his greedy actions have sown upon the world and only able to tell his story and pass on the last Truffula seed in the hopes that maybe, maybe someday the trees can regrow and the Lorax will return. The Illumination version follows this but then tacks on a happy ending  where the Lorax and Once-ler reunite because as we know ambiguity and bittersweet endings cannot exist in children’s films.

Best Scene: Obviously it’s the scene where he shakes his ass to seduce Jack Frost, in one of the greatest gay romances ever put to film.

Joking aside, it is undoubtedly his villain song. It has become such a meme, but real talk? “How Bad Can I Be” slaps. This is a really good song, probably too good for the movie but you know what, I’ll take it.

Best Quote: HOW BA-A-A-AD CAN I BE? Yes, I’m using a line from his villain song. Sue me.

Final Thoughts & Score: What can one really say about the movie version of the Once-ler that hasn’t already been run into the ground? Well, how about… He’s not too bad, honestly? Like, yes, he has next to nothing to do with his book counterpart and they really go way too far into trying to make a capitalist pig sympathetic… but the animated special from the 70s did that too. I think the Once-ler honestly works better when there is a dash of complexity to him and he isn’t just a simple-minded Captain Planet villain.

Of course, the issue here is that the 70s version took a simpler approach, kind of less is more. The 70s Once-ler brings up some valid points to the Lorax about his work, and the Lorax can’t help but agree that there’s no easy answer while also stressing that the environmental devastation is still really, really bad. It works, it feels complex, and it arguably helps the ultimate point that we need to protect the environment better than even the book did (and I love the book, don’t get me wrong, but its take on the Once-ler is a bit too simple for its own good; it almost runs into the Femme Fatale problem by being a bit too much of a strawman). The movie version has a bit too much going on, especially with his family. His family are much more blatantly evil, greedy, and manipulative, but they’re relegated to the background for much of the film and don’t effect things all that much. The whole narrative would have been infinitely stronger if they were the greater scope villains behind Once-ler and were who needed to be defeated and maybe taught a lesson, but instead they are ignored in favor of someone I’ll address very shortly.

All of this leaves movie Once-ler feeling extremely disjointed, but not irredeemably so. As I said before, his villain song is unironically awesome, and as lame as it is compared to the more haunting, contemplative ending of the book and the special, I’m not so much of a curmudgeon that I didn’t at least smile when he finally reconciled with the Lorax. Ultimately though, him being memed to death really didn’t help his case, but it means I’m not giving the movie version anything less than a 3/10. He might in fact be the best “so bad it’s good” villain ever, or at least up there. He’s just so undeniably enjoyable even if the narrative isn’t making him as complex as it thinks it is. The animated special version gets a 9/10, the book version is a 7/10, and the Once-ler’s family gets a 5/10 for being an interesting concept they sadly do little with, which will now be elaborated on as I follow up on the foreshadowing from the last paragraph...

Psycho Analysis: Aloysius O’Hare

Remember how I said the Once-ler’s family gets ignored in favor of someone else? Here he is, Aloysius O’Hare, one of the absolute lamest villains ever put to screen.

Motivation/Goals: He’s greedy. That’s it. I’m not kidding. He’s just a cartoonish caricature of a rich person, which still makes him a realistic portayal but also makes him boring as sin compared to the wacky dude with a big musical number about how bad he can be.

Performance: Rob Riggle does a decent job, but there’s really not much for him to work with here. This character is a cardboard cutout who exists to be as cartoonishly greedy and evil as possible with no nuance so the kids know who to root against and so that Once-ler doesn’t look bad in comparison.

Final Fate: Look, he’s a blatantly evil corporate villain in a kid’s movie about the environment. Of course he gets defeated and everyone turns on him. What’s especially funny though is that, on the brink of learning his lesson, he rejects any form of redemption and just goes whole hog on being a villain.

Best Scene: I will absolutely give him this: in the face of his ultimate defeat, after having the virtues of trees sung to him and the entire town turning on him, he for a moment contemplates turning over a new leaf… and then absolutely rejects the thought and instead decides being evil is just too much fun, at which point he tries to get everyone back on his side by seeing a funny little song about death while wavedashing. If more shitty villains did this, I don’t think there would be shitty villains.

Best Quote: LET IT DIE, LET IT DIE, LET IT SHRIVEL UP AND DIE! Yes I’m quoting a song again.

Final Thoughts & Score: Look, I’m not gonna mine words here: O’Hare sucks. Big time. He is a prime example of why The Lorax failed as an adaptation. In a story that is dealing with a moral grayness with no easy answers, O’Hare is just a big, blatant target, a dark shade of black in terms of black-and-white morality. He’s like a reject Captain Planet villain with Edna Mode’s haircut.

The movie would have been infinitely better if, instead of him, the Once-ler’s family were in control of the town, and they needed to learn the lesson about saving the trees instead of simply vanishing from the story. They were shown to be overbearing, manipulative, and greedy, and they had a much more personal connection with Once-ler being, you know, his actual family. The fact they abandon him and never really get any sort of comeuppance despite being perhaps the most evil people in the move, egging on Once-ler and taking full advantage of him, makes O’Hare all the more egregious, because there could have been some strong thematic elements that would have tied the film together and made it come off as much less preachy and more nuanced.

But we don’t live in a world where that happened, we live in a world where we got O’Hare. Aside from some genuine hilarity from him at the end, O’Hare really adds very little to the film. I gotta give him a 2/10, but I will say he’s a lot closer to a 3 than he is to a 1; there’s no denying his absolute rejection of learning a moral is absolutely hilarious. I love when villains do that. It’s just a shame those funny moments are wrapped up in something monumentally unimpressive.

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Moments

Notes: I was a bit in the feels today, so here is some soft Chris fic nobody asked for, with a bit of angst thrown in. there may be some inaccuracies regarding the timeline, but this is fiction, so…enjoy

Warnings: swearing, slight angst

Your relationship has always been a funny one.

You’ve met three years ago when Chris was still working with you at New Day, the early mornings spent together, cracking bad jokes over the strongest coffee known to men had created a strange, but lasting sense of comradery between the two of you.

He has always been a bit of a flirt, but in a funny, nonchalant way, and there was that invisible line, that unspoken rule that the two of you would never do anything more than the occasional bantering and bickering. No feelings involved.

But still, there were the occasional moments that made you think, made you mentally recalibrate the relationship to someone you usually considered just a good friend.

The first one was on one of those early morning elevator rides, you were running late and just barely managed to sneak a hand between the closing doors. Chris was the only other occupant, nursing his coffee and snickering as he saw your slightly disheveled appearance.

“Doing some morning sport, Y/N?” he asked, and you just flipped him the bird.

“Feeling cheeky today, aren’t we?” he responded, and suddenly took a step in your direction, looking at you.

“You have a leaf in your hair.” He said, voice going oddly quiet, and then his hand reached out to pick the small green thing out of your tousled locks. Your scalp was prickling in a strange way and your heart gave a soft thump that you blamed entirely on still being slightly out of breath. Your eyes were locked with his, and for the first time you realized just what a mesmerizing shade of blue they were.

“Thank you.” You replied, voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re welcome.” He murmured, eyes never leaving yours.

Then the mechanical voice of the elevator announced your arrival on the studio floor, and whatever spell there has been between you got broken by the opening doors.

“I’ll see you in the meeting room in five.” he said, and hurried out of the elevator to his office, leaving you behind trying to make sense of what just transpired between the two of you.

The situation was never brought up again, and nothing changed. You kept up your job as assistant producer, providing Chris and Alisyn with the content they needed to pull off a good show, and kept Chris ego from inflating too much with the occasional well-meant criticism or lighthearted teasing.

Then, the office Christmas party happened.

You had a blast, drinking eggnog and aimlessly swaying along to the shitty Christmas playlist some intern had put together.

Chris had brought a date, some woman you’ve never seen before. You were trying not to be annoyed by the obnoxious way she laughed about jokes Chris cracked, or how she clung to his arm like a blonde, perfumed kraken. You did your best to ignore the pair for most of the evening.

When the lady finally went to the bathroom, you approached Chris where he was leaning against a wall in a quieter corner of the office. The eggnog made you bold, so you cut right to the case.

“So, who’s blondie? Never seen her around before.” you tried your best to sound as normal as possible. “She almost died of laughter at that joke you made back there, it wasn’t even that funny.”

“Maybe she just has better humor than you.” Chris said, giving you a smirk.

“Ha, as if. You know my humor is superior.” You said, your voice coming out way louder than intended. You poked his chest with your index finger and stilled for a moment as you felt the steel hard muscle under his dress shirt. You knew he worked out, but that was new.

“Jesus, you’re drunk, Y/N.” Chris chuckled. Oh, he was going to enjoy the hell out of teasing you about this for the next weeks.

You just stared at him, trying to come up with some clever remark, but your brain felt fuzzy and funny, so you just stuck to “Shut up, Cuomo.”

He brought his face down a bit, so it was nearly on your level. He was close enough for you to get a whiff of his aftershave, he smelled heavenly.

“Hey, watch your mouth.” He said, and you weren’t sure if his tone was still teasing. You felt a blush forming on your face at the intense look he was giving you.

“Never will.” You shot back, struggling to keep your voice steady. Some strange energy was buzzing between the two of you, it was one of those moments where every outcome seemed possible.

“Chriiiis, come over, I wanna dance!”

And just like that, the moment was over, broken by the screech of Chris’s blonde side kick making her way over to you.

“Coming, just give me a moment.” He called back.

But you fled before he could say another word to you, the ugly emotion in your chest feeling a lot like jealousy now.

Blondie never showed up or was mentioned again, so you figured that whatever thing Chris had with her didn’t work out. You tried not to feel a small sense of satisfaction.

Chris, as expected, teased you mercilessly about your run-in with the eggnog, but never brought up the strange tension that sometimes was tangible when the two of you were alone together. You didn’t either and over time, it just dissolved, the two of you going back to the easy and carefree joking you were familiar with.

But sometimes, you were watching him from afar, and if you would’ve paid closer attention you would’ve noticed that he was watching you as well.

A few months later, Chris approached you during an ad break.

“Could you maybe drop by my office after we wrap it here? There’s something I need to discuss with you.” He sounded as serious as you’ve ever heard him, so you swallowed the inappropriate joke that was already on the tip of your tongue and just replied “Sure thing.” before he had to get back in front of the camera.

You tried to ignore the way your heart was fluttering when you walked down the corridor to his office after the show. It was just a chat with Chris, like you’ve already had a thousand times before, you told yourself as you tried to calm your nerves.

Except that it wasn’t.

“Prime Time? An hour, every day?” you exclaimed; excitement evident in your voice.

“Oh my God, Chris, I’m so thrilled for you, this is huge.”

Chris just beamed at you, full of pride and looking so happy that it was infectious.

“You are the first person I’m telling the news, Y/N, because I wanted to ask you to come with me and be executive producer. I can make some demands regarding certain positions, and as much as it pains me to admit it, I can’t imagine doing a show without that weird, brilliant brain of yours.” He grinned, and you couldn’t believe your ears.

“You want me to be your executive producer?” you asked, a bit choked up because of all the emotions you were feeling. You didn’t really know how to respond, so you just stepped forward and threw your arm around Chris. You were too short to properly reach around his bulky frame, but you just hugged him as tight as you could, pressing your head into his chest and just whispering “I’d be honored.”

You could feel large, strong arms embracing you, and heard Chris amused voice close to your ear.

“It’s a deal then.”

You let go of him and looked up into his face. He was smiling down at you, looking so genuinely happy that your stomach gave a little flip.

One of his large hands came up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You didn’t move a muscle, praying that your face wouldn’t betray the excitement you felt at having him so close.

“I could not do this without you, Y/N, thank you for trusting me, and for your loyalty. It means the world.”

“Sure thing, Cuomo.” You whispered, and it took every ounce of self-control not to close the gap between your faces and just kiss him. No, you reminded yourself, you were colleagues, and the new show was too important to jeopardize it by letting pesky feelings get in the way. So, you took a step back, quickly collected yourself, and spoke with new confidence in your voice.

“So, when are you going to tell Alisyn?”

Cuomo Prime Time was a huge success. Chris thrived on being able to plan his own show, picking out the content and guests with much more freedom than he had at New Day. Seeing him so in his element made you happy as well, and the new degree of responsibility was much less scary with him by your side. He was a confident, reliable and steady presence in the studio, and you felt like your friendship only grew stronger during the intense discussions you had while planning the next show.

Unfortunately, your crush grew as well. You’ve always been aware that Chris was smart, and a dedicated journalist on top, but being the anchor for his own show brought a more mature and sincere side out in him. He really poured his heart into the show, and yours was a little more his with each day.

You cheered for him after a he gave a successful interview, calmed him down when a guest had been particularly vile and untruthful and comforted him when right-wing nut jobs dragged him on social media, because you knew how much that got to him, even if he would never admit it.

Then, January 6th happened. Hell broke loose in Washington DC, and your team was on it the second the extent of the insurrection became known. You planned a special edition of Prime Time in light speed, and Chris was on fire, on camera as well as behind the scenes. He called on all his background contacts, gathering as much insider information as he could.

When it was announced that Trump would be impeached for the second time, Chris got into it with so much dedication and vigor that it got you slightly worried. He would spend all his time in the studio, on the phone, writing mails, tweeting, barely sleeping.

You tried to talk him into going home more than once, but he just dismissed you.

He spent the days of the impeachment trial basically living in the CNN building, the time he wasn’t on air his eyes were glued to the screen, taking in every debate that was held on the senate floor, cursing Trumps lawyers and the GOP members defending him with so much fury that you almost got scared. As it became clearer and clearer that the trial would result in an acquittal, your worry about how Chris would handle the outcome grew. And rightly so.

The acquittal was announced, and he was furious, slamming his fist on his desk and throwing his CNN mug across the room where it shattered into a hundred little pieces on the opposite wall. You had never seen Chris like that, and while it terrified you how he was behaving, you knew that you could not leave him to his own devices now.

“Damn it, go home, Y/N, I need to be alone!” He snapped at you. You flinched at his harsh words but did not back down.

“Forget it, Cuomo, you need a friend now.” You said, resolute, carefully approaching him from behind at his desk, putting your hand on his shoulders and applying some comforting pressure. But he shook you off and turned around in his chair to look at you, tension, anger and sadness coming off him in waves.

“I said.” He swallowed, his voice almost giving out. “Leave me alone.” And then he broke down, burying his face in his hands while dry, angry sobs shook his whole body. Seeing that strong, controlled man like this felt like a punch to the gut, and you carefully kneeled before him. You put your arms around his body and just held him while all the tension from the last days, even weeks, fell off. It was this moment when you realized the full extent of your emotions for Chris. There was just nothing you wouldn´t do to make sure he would never feel like this again.

When he finally calmed down and raised his head, you took his face between your hands, put your forehead against his and looked him deep in the eyes.

“They will be held accountable, I promise you. We’re going to do what we do best, we get after it and we are going to show the American people the truth.” You said, voice full of passion and conviction.

His eyes were still looking lost, but his face hardened, and he gave a single, sharp nod.

“We will. Those fuckers better get ready, because I will drag every single one of them into the light. They will not get away with that.”

“That’s the spirit I want to see.” You said, giving him a small smile.

Your hands were still on his face, and you couldn’t bring yourself to move them away just yet. He still looked so vulnerable, and you slowly began to brush your thumb over his cheek.

He closed his eyes and he leaned into your touch like a cat. Seeing him like this made your heart almost jump out of your throat, you really were head over heels for him.

He was at peace for a moment, and you unconsciously leant forward until your noses were almost touching. Now was the right moment, you thought, now you would finally go for it.

But then he opened his eyes again, and they went hard as he saw how close you were. He pushed your hands away and you could feel his walls going up, shutting you out.

“What do you think you are doing.” He barked. “I don’t need a pity party, I can handle myself.” His words felt like a slap to the face, there was no sign of the man that you held in your arms some minutes ago. You felt the sting of tears in your eyes and stoop up from the floor, bringing some distance between you and Chris.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you asked in a quiet voice. You didn’t want to scream, because if you got yourself worked up the tears would start to fall. And there was no way he would see you crying, not now. “I was just trying to help you and be there for you.”

He gave a small, humorless laugh. There was no warmth in his eyes anymore, and you felt like you might be sick at the look he was giving you.

“Like I said, I don’t need pity, or anything else from you right now, so how about you finally leave me alone, Y/N?”

He turned his back to you, the dismissal evident in his posture.

“Chris?” you tried, but he wasn’t answering. You started to get angry, and with the anger the tears started to fall. You were almost glad he wasn’t looking at you.

“Fine, go fuck yourself then. I was trying to help, I thought we had something there…” your voice gave out with a choked sound, and you fled the office before totally breaking down in front of him.

You cried all the way home, and even there the tears didn’t stop. It hurt, more than you could’ve imagined, and even though you tried your best to distract yourself, your mind always wandered back to the way he had pushed your hands away and the harsh tone of his voice as he told you to leave him alone.

Above all, you were angry at yourself for developing feelings for him in the first place. He was complicated, and proud, and your gut had told you from the very beginning that it wasn’t a good idea to get too close. That you would just end up getting hurt. You should have listened.

You were ripped out of your thoughts by the sound of your doorbell, followed by a series of sharp knocks against the door of your apartment.

“Y/N!”

It was Chris. What the hell was he doing here?

You quickly dried your eyes and made your way over to the door. You already were in your pajamas but didn’t care. It wasn’t as if you owed the guy anything.

You opened the door forcefully, anger slowly taking over. How dared he just show up here after treating you this way?

But your resolve crumbled as you took in Chris’ appearance.

He looked like shit. His suit was wrinkled, and there were bags under his bloodshot eyes. He looked like he’d been crying.

“What is it, Chris?” you said, your voice not betraying the emotional turmoil you were in. You felt anger, sadness, worry and hurt at the same time, but there also was a glimpse of hopefulness, because there had to be a reason Chris came all the way to your apartment that late in the evening.

“Y/N.” he began, and you almost started crying again at how lost he sounded.

“I am so monumentally sorry. I fucked up big time with how I treated you back there, I was so angry and confused, but that’s no excuse for the way I acted. I just wanted to let you know how deeply sorry I am, and I just hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

He looked like a kicked puppy, and your heart hurt seeing him like this. But still, you had to address the elephant in the room. Because there was no way he hadn’t noticed what you were about to do back in his office. He was no fool, and he owed you at least a talk about it.

“Chris, I forgive you.” You said, and he breathed out on relief.

“But we have to talk about what happened. You knew what I was about to do. And I am sorry if I read too much into your behavior towards me, I just really thought we were having a moment. But the way you reacted, the way you looked at me like you did…it is totally okay if you don’t feel the same way for me, but do you really hate the idea of us that much that you had to look at me as if you were disgusted by me? I thought we were at least friends.” You stopped as you felt your voice starting to break again. Saying this out loud hurt so much, you just wanted to go back to your bed and cry some more.

Chris looked like someone had punched him in the face.

“Oh no, no shit, please Y/N-” He paused, rubbing his face with his hands in exasperation.

“I thought you were just taking pity on me.” He said in a small voice you had never heard from him before. “Jesus, Y/N, I am an angry, bitter man. And I am much older than you. I never saw a chance for us, but I’m selfish, so I kept you close. You are way too good for me, and I didn’t want to have a moment with you only for you to realize how messed up I am afterwards. I never even thought about the possibility of you feeling the same way.”

He sounded as if he still couldn’t believe it.

You just stared at Chris. His hands were fidgeting, he looked so nervous and hopeful, and your heart was soaring, the force of your feelings for him almost overwhelming you.

“God, Cuomo, you are such a damn idiot.”

And with that, you threw yourself into his arms and kissed him. He responded right away, embracing you and holding you so close to his chest that you could feel his racing heartbeat. His lips were warm and soft, and his body fit into yours as if you were made for each other. It felt wonderful and goosebumps were breaking out all over your body as Chris tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue slowly sliding across your bottom lip.

You never wanted to let go, but you were still standing in the hallway in front of your apartment, and you were wearing your pajamas.

You reluctantly broke the kiss, but Chris cupped your jaw and drew you close for another one, short and sweet this time.

“I can’t just stop after finally getting what I want.” He said softly.

Your heart gave a little jump at his words, and you pressed another kiss to his lips.

“You can get as many of them as you want but come inside first. I don’t want my neighbors to see me like this.”

“I actually think your sleepwear is pretty cute. Pink, I like it.”

You smacked his arm in a playful manner and when he smiled back at you, everything felt right in the world.

[passionate-reply]

Do you “fucking love” science? Have you ever been blinded by it? Well, it doesn’t really matter, because that goofy little number isn’t really supposed to be on Thomas Dolby’s debut album in the first place. Find out about all the awesome OTHER stuff that’s actually meant to be here, in this new installment of Great Albums! Transcript below the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’ll be talking about a stellar album by one of those artists who have gone down in history as “one hit wonders,” despite producing a deep catalogue that’s often more impressive than that one song they end up known for: it’s The Golden Age of Wireless, the debut LP of Thomas Dolby. Chances are pretty good you’ve heard his big hit, “She Blinded Me With Science,” before...at least, if you’re American.

Music: “She Blinded Me With Science”

Like I said, if you’re American, you’ve heard this one before. If anything, it’s oversaturated! But if you’re from elsewhere in the world, you might not know it. Growing up in the US, I went through the whole gauntlet of alleged “one hit wonders” of 80s synth-pop, and a great many of them turned out to be British artists who had perfectly respectable careers in their native UK: Gary Numan, Soft Cell, and OMD, for example. Thomas Dolby is also British, but he’s apparently more famous here than he is across the pond--which is still not that famous.

He really ought to be, though, because The Golden Age of Wireless is a true masterpiece. Or, at least it WAS, in its original form. It’s actually a tough album to talk about, insofar as it’s hard to pin down what exactly constitutes “The Golden Age of Wireless.” It’s had quite a few different pressings, and a variety of different track listings. And the original version of it does NOT include “She Blinded Me With Science.” While I’d never argue that it’s a bad song, since it is insanely fun, and catchy to the point of being irresistible, it really does not belong on this album. I’m sure it helped them move copies of it, but its inclusion kind of ruins the vibe, to be honest. Its in-your-face and flamboyant hooks make it feel like a very unwarranted intrusion on an otherwise fairly serious and contemplative LP, which seems to have been intended as a fairly tight and thoughtful concept album.

Aside from that glaring issue, there are a few other tracks that have appeared on later versions of the album that weren’t there from the start, namely, the two tracks from Dolby’s first ever-release, a double A-side of “Urges” and “Leipzig,” as well as “One of Our Submarines,” the B-side of some versions of “She Blinded Me With Science.” All of these tracks are excellent, and mesh with the thematic and sonic character of the album quite well. “One of Our Submarines” in particular is often considered one of the best tracks of Dolby’s career--melancholy, claustrophobic, and stinging in its poignant sense of tragedy. It captures the misery and futility of modern war, as well as the sunset of the British Empire after the Second World War...and there’s a sample of a dolphin, too. It’s easily the track that I most wish had been included from the very start.

Music: “One of Our Submarines”

But now that that’s over with, I’d like to drill down and talk about how the album operates in its original form, as the artist intended. Like I said earlier, The Golden Age of Wireless is best understood as a concept album, and I think of it in a similar league as classics like the Buggles’ The Age of Plastic, OMD’s Dazzle Ships, or even Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love. The original track listing opens with “Flying North,” a stellar introduction to one of the most prominent themes of the album: freedom!

Music: “Flying North”

“Flying North” is an exultant anthem of self-determination, and one clearly mediated by “metal birds”--aeroplanes, that is. It’s a celebration of the independence allowed by technology, and a rather winsome one, in which this almost macho image of a heroic pilot takes center stage. The final track of the album, “Cloudburst At Shingle Street,” is a bit more esoteric, but seems to be aiming for a pretty similar idea overall, and I’d argue that the two of them form thematic “bookends.”

Music: “Cloudburst At Shingle Street”

“Cloudburst At Shingle Street” leads us through the technological evolution of mankind, from swinging from trees to paving concrete beaches--but the spacey synth warbles beneath those lines give them an ominous bent. The assertion that we might be heading into a cloudburst “mindless,” “naked,” or “blindly” is unnervingly cynical, but, we’re told, “there’s no escaping it.” Despite all of these signs that our better judgment should be resisting the temptation of this miraculous cloudburst...this triumphant, rising coda, with its powerful choir encouraging us onwards, seems to muddle the whole thing. The untethered, free-roaming nature of modern life isn’t always this sexy and exuberant, though--consider the track “Weightless,” as a counterpoint.

Music: “Weightless”

“Weightless” certainly seems to be about modern transients of some sort--in this case, traveling by car--but never lionizes them or makes them too terribly enviable. Instead, the focus is on the image of the draining fuel tank: the constant emptiness and craving for meaning, validation, and genuine love. No matter the allure of this very American, Route 66-like setting, the gas stations, cinemas, and decadent diner meals along the way are never any real substitute for an emotionally authentic life. That setting is, of course, a wistfully backward-looking Midcentury one. Nostalgia and childhood naivete are also among the album’s major themes, and are expressed the most clearly on “Europa and the Pirate Twins.”

Music: “Europa and the Pirate Twins”

Narratively, “Europa and the Pirate Twins” is a bittersweet story of childhood playmates who never quite re-unite, despite promising to be together again someday. The really interesting wrinkle is the fact that the narrator’s beloved Europa has become a famous celebrity as an adult, and the narrator is essentially a fan of her despite their real-world relationship. It’s an uncanny, confused parasocial relationship dynamic that feels extremely contemporary, despite the fact that it’s ultimately more of a commentary on the rise of teenager-oriented marketing during the Midcentury than anything else. The strange, often unhealthy relationships between young people and mass media, particularly radio, are another one of the major sources of tension on The Golden Age of Wireless. “Europa and the Pirate Twins” is also one of the more interesting tracks, instrumentally, featuring a prominent harmonica part, performed by Andy Partridge of XTC. Given how much the album strives to be about the future and past simultaneously, steeped in nostalgia and utopian visions alike, it makes sense to hear Dolby blend elements of traditional folk or popular music with forward-thinking synth-pop sensibilities. Listen also for a flute on “Windpower,” and a substantial amount of guitar on “Commercial Breakup,” a song that proves Dolby certainly can rock, if he feels like it.

Music: “Commercial Breakup”

The cover art for The Golden Age of Wireless isn’t exactly the most iconic, but I’ve always thought it was very beautiful. You’ve got this very eye-catching, lurid, pulp magazine style illustration of Dolby as a diligent, yet glamourous engineer, radiating with the complementary colour palette of orange and blue, the perfect picture of retro cool. But it’s framed and inset, to give us a conscious sense of observing something that’s coming to us from another time, an artifact preserved. That patina and sense of the antique is amplified by this dull-coloured background, which actually shows a marble sculpture gallery in a museum, though that’s tough to make out unless you have it right in front of you. The numerous shades of irony operating here are another thing that make the album feel strikingly contemporary.

I’m also a huge fan of the album’s title. “Wireless,” if you weren’t aware, is an old-fashioned term for radio. Radio itself is a strong theme on the album, most obviously on the track “Radio Silence,” but the use of the term “wireless” isn’t just another piece of retro nostalgia--I think it’s also evocative of that sense of free-flying, untethered independence I talked about earlier. The first half, i.e., “golden age,” is perhaps even more important. “Golden age” is an extremely loaded term that brings a number of rich associations to the table. “Golden ages” are simultaneously longed for, but not fully believed in. They’re bygone eras that usually felt like nothing special to the people who actually lived through them, despite their greatness being palpable to anyone reflecting on them in hindsight. In every golden age, there’s a poetic tragedy.

I think that even if someone did buy this record just to get their hands on “She Blinded Me With Science,” they’d probably be at least a little bit disappointed in what they got. The album does have some decent pop singles, chiefly “Radio Silence” and “Europa and the Pirate Twins,” but they’re still humming with nostalgia and unease, and not without some substantial experimental DNA.

Music: “Radio Silence”

While they cut the single weirdest track on the album, “The Wreck of the Fairchild,” they still retained some fairly ambitious tracks, such as “Windpower”--clearly an ode to Kraftwerk’s “Radioactivity.” It’s hard to be angry with an electronic musician for trying to rip off Kraftwerk, since they all do it one way or another, and in this case it invites a natural comparison between two great concept albums focused on the theme of radio.

Music: “Windpower”

Overall, though, The Golden Age of Wireless is still a reasonably accessible album on the whole. Possibly not what you expected, and certainly, a work that��s more sentimental and affecting than good for the dance floor, but as far as poignant, ballady, diesel-punk odes to the tragic techno-optimism of the Midcentury go, I’d say it’s not all that hard to get into! Dolby does have a pop core, as an artist, that he’s quite capable of selling to us if he chooses to. For proof of that point, look no further than the single “Hyperactive!” which he followed this up with a few years later:

Music: “Hyperactive!”

When discussing an ostensible one-hit wonder, there’s a distinct temptation to resort to “they deserved better” style rhetoric. On one hand, yes, I do think more people should hear Thomas Dolby’s music, and that it has a lot to say to us. I’m all about obscure music finding new life and being appreciated. That said, in the case of Dolby, I think he basically got what he wanted, in the end. He’s always been more keenly interested in music’s many behind-the-scenes roles than he has in chasing pop stardom himself--he’s produced music, and scored a number of films and video games over the decades. It feels kind of wrong to tell someone who’s successful at one thing that they “deserve” to be successful at something different, just because we may want to hear him do it, or because we esteem one skillset more highly than the other. Ultimately, The Golden Age of Wireless is a Great Album on its own terms, whether Dolby ever decides to grace us with another synth-pop release under his own name again--which he did in 2011, with A Map of the Floating City. But it’s his decision, as an artist, and the fact that he can choose to or not is a luxury that allows him integrity. I think that’s the way it ought to be.

My overall top track on this album has got to be “Airwaves,” a song in which the narrator dies, tragically and suddenly, in an automobile accident. It’s not the sexy, “Warm Leatherette” sort of car accident, but rather a dismally realistic one, that shows quite frankly how undignified death can be. Sometimes, we aren’t so much doomed heroes as we are frightened, sickly children, defeated by our own fickle bodies. The last thought our narrator gets is “I itch all over, let me sleep”; their honour perishes just moments before they do. Meanwhile, the radio is a constant presence throughout, and serves as both something to anchor the scene in the droll and quotidian, as well as ultimately becoming something transcendent. The promise of “airwaves” is not only the human interconnectedness made possible by technology, but also a hint at the ultimate destiny of human souls, a kind of ethereal afterlife in the sky. The meandering lulls of the verses contrast sharply with the song’s eerily soaring refrain, which enhances that feeling that those “airwaves” occupy some sort of higher plane. On that surprisingly heavy note, that’s all I’ve got for today, so thanks for listening!

Music: “Airwaves”

[sonicringbond]

Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Scene 54

Finally, we are here. The last scene of Season 1. There will be some huge changes coming, or at least they feel huge to me. But none of that will come until after this scene, so let me get out of the way so everyone can read...

“It has been too long, old friend,” Ix’s disembodied voice stated from where it now rose from his autogolem body.

Sonic could barely tell as a blast of energy from Rosy had sent him tumbling and he had not quite righted himself yet. As he attempted to, he heard Ix continue.

“My apologies for being so long in waking you. It took some time to learn what had happened after my own shameful defeat. Though, I owe a great deal to the foreign Ring Mage and the Medium who serves as your present, unworthy host.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Pir’Oth,” Rosy, but clearly not Rosy comforted the autogolem. “I have grown rather attached to this Medium. She has been touched by so many of my brethren. It is exhilarating to see so pitiable a Medium so touched by them. The Gaia Twins, The God of Destruction. Illumina. Even Solaris has touched her. I can hardly fathom what makes this girl so special, but she is. That, and she is far from one who appreciates boredom. She has a love of entertainment to merely match my own. I may even keep her once I’ve recovered my own body.”

“Not happening…”

“Oh~? Did you still have something to say, Dirt Dweller?”

“I have plenty to say,” Sonic grunted as he forced himself to his feet. “But the only thing you need to hear is ‘let her go’.”

“You do not realize your position,” Ix interceded on behalf of the entity that possessed Rosy. “You are but a frail, meaningless mortal. My old friend is the one and only rightful ruler of this world.”

“I doubt it,” Sonic spat as he noticed a giant Red Star appear at the center of the sphere, the bottom loosing form and becoming a cloud of Rings. Still, he pressed on. “I heard you name a lot of familiar faces a moment ago. Believe it or not, but a couple I’ve helped and made pretty good friends with, and a couple more I had to stop from destroying the world. Can you guess who’s still standing?”

“You expect me to believe that, Dirt Dweller?” the entity that possessed her scoffed at Sonic’s claims. turning Rosy’s now red right eye and Gear Star Ring iris left eye onto Sonic,

“I’m guessing you’re controlling her via a Ring Bond,” Sonic surmised as he started to walk towards Rosy, even as the ground beneath him began to lose its supports as they turned to Rings. “But you didn’t touch her memories at all, or you would have noticed. She watched me fight Chaos, and she believed I could beat Dark Gaia. Or maybe it’s just because Rings in the lands under that troublesome egg in the sky absorb people’s memories so her memories aren’t there for you to pic at.”

“You are surprisingly wise, Dirt Dweller,” the entity commended Sonic. “But I can make a Ring Bond with you and silence you in an instance, no less gain all of your memories. After all, they seem to be unnaturally intact. I never would have believed there were any who could resist my mastery of the Rings. Still, even through this vessel it will be no problem dealing with a simple, boastful, Dirt Dweller.”

Spinning up from the rapidly growing cloud of Rings and Ring Gates, a single Ring presented itself between Rosy and Sonic. The smirk on Rosy’s face deepened the scowl on Sonic’s and entertained the entity that possessed her. Still, Sonic walked forward unfaltering. It bothered Ix as he had seen the speeds Sonic could run at.

“Perhaps it would be best if we simply eliminated him now, Benedict,” Ix suggested, and at last gave a name to the entity possessing Rosy.

“And where would the fun in that be Pir’oth,” Benedict laughed through Rosy. “This Dirt Dweller, he is so fun I may yet let him flounder. It has been too long that I’ve slept, and to be greeted by so perfect a gift. I can hardly discard it so readily.”

“Then I shall devote myself to planning your awakening ready for this one’s challenge,” Ix held from arguing and turned to enter a Ring Gate that awaited him. He kept his blue glowing eyes on Rosy a moment longer though. “I will not allow your need for pleasure to keep you asleep any longer. The world shall know once more of the name Emperor Benedict Yoluku of the Empire of the Ring. Stay well old friend, I hope to see you once more, far sooner than later.”

“And now he’s gone and ruined the surprise,” Yoluku laughed, watching Ix disappear through a Ring. Surprise came to Rosy’s face as Yoluku turned his attention back to Sonic. “Oh? Is there something amusing.”

“Don’t mind me,” Sonic snickered, even as he held a tight smirk. “I just didn’t realize how accurate I was. Benedict? Yolk? Come on, you’re like a breakfast food, Eggs Benedict.”

“Ah, so the Dirt Dweller has a sense of humor.”

“I bet you look like an egg too, don’t you,” Sonic pressed, obviously agitating Yoluku. “Well, you know, or I guess you don’t since she’s missing her memories, but scrambling eggs is my specialty.”

Stopping before the Ring Yoluku had summoned, Sonic casually collected it. “A foolish move, Dirt Dweller. That was your last link to this precious girl. Soon the floor shall fall out from under you and you’ll be helpless to take her back. Unless that is how you foreign Dirt Dwellers beg for mercy. It’s so hard to say. It has been ages since the concept of foreigners could even be had. Little matter, I accept this girl as your gift and will let you fall to where the Rings may take you.”

Sonic had not been paying attention to the fact that Rosy had been floating this whole time, but it was impossible to ignore when she floated down to the walkway he was standing on, the whole thing turning to Rings at the touch of her feet leaving him with nowhere left to stand. Naturally, he fell helplessly.

“How boring,” Yoluku remarked, a look of disappointment weighing down Rosy’s normally cheerful features. “I suppose I shouldn’t have let his boasting get my hopes up.

“Guh!?”

The sound of collected Rings reached Yoluku far after he felt a gloved hand take Rosy’s wrist. He hadn’t expected it at all. And turned to look with Rosy’s eyes through a Ring into Sonic’s emerald eyes, stunned by the surprise he felt. “A Light Speed Dash? Performed by a mere dirt dweller?”

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises,” Sonic smirked as the Ring he held burst into motes of golden lights.

“Yet you are still a fool, Dirt Dweller. There is nothing you can accomplish by making a Ring Bond with me. I shall dominate it and make you my servant.”

“Who says I was making one with you, Eggs? I’m making one with Amy, and you’re too late to stop me.”

“What can you possibly offer her that would be a threat to me, Dirt Dweller?”

“If you could see her memories, then you’d know that even Dark Gaia couldn’t dominate me.”

With Rosy’s widening eyes, Yoluku realized he was bested, and laughed as Sonic spoke to Rosy. “Impossible”

“It’s time to wake up, rascal,” Sonic gently whispered to Rosy and watched her right iris return to the shade of blue that always reflected him. He still had a few last words for Yoluku however as he saw the Gear Star Ring still turning in Rosy’s eyes. “And don’t think I’m done with you either, Eggs. I’ll find a way up to you and put a stop to this foul Ring Bond myself.”

“I welcome the challenge,” a youthful, pleasant, and cheerful voice greeted Sonic from the Rings. “I have not had this much fun in ages. I look forward to seeing all of the ways you two entertain me for your short little lives, Dirt Dweller!”

~Maybe I hear voices in the darkness. But Sonic shared something with me in that Ring Bond. And not just the ability to resist the will of the gods, which is so strange. I’ve never resisted them so openly before. I can only wonder how that will affect my relationship with my cards. But it’s so hard to tell right now. There was something else in that Ring Bond from Sonic. It’s so, so warm. But I can hardly focus at all. I can barely see Sonic, or the red glowing eyes behind him. I think they’re supposed to be familiar. I can feel myself getting scared, but they also feel so much like Sonic. But Sonic seems to recognize them. I can hear his voice, and maybe it sounds scary too.~

“I should have known there would be one last troublemaker to come and crash my party crashing. Heh, and all things considered, I should have expected you sooner.”

~I’m too lost in Sonic’s warmth to hear the name he says. That’s okay. I know this is the real Sonic in this warmth. And for once, I think he’s willingly engulfing me in it. Tee-hee~♥ A shame I can’t enjoy it, just a little… longer…

~…~    

Scene 54 · CLEARED Party Crashing & Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Season 1, End

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And that’s that. Season 1 is over. Hooray!

\(^o^)/

With celebrating out of the way, I do have to admit that I am exhausted. It was a daunting project to start with, but with several idea changes and honestly discarding my original ideas for The Journey to try and be more welcoming to everyone who has been following my AU. Now though, with everything set up, the other characters addressed as being out there, and establishing Sonic’s main goal, I can finally start to make The Journey what I originally imagined.

What is that you ask? The original idea to The Journey was to tell a story with only Sonic and Rosy. An unending road trip that explores the dynamic of Sonic and Amy and how they can work together as characters, friends, traveling companions, and even as boyfriend girlfriend, all without sacrificing their individual characters. It’s an even more massive undertaking for an amateur writer like me, but the smaller cast of characters and a more focused, yet also more open approach I’ll be taking should hopefully make it easier for me to nail. Or as close I can.

I hope everyone will continue to stick with me on this journey, even as the other characters become more of an occasional background element. Of course, if you want more out of them than that, I’ll be opening prompts again when it is time to start expanding the world of the story again. I may have my own plans, but Sonic Ring Bond is a communal AU. So please, come join me on the next leg of the Journey!

-----

Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra and every one of you! Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – Fuse Man Stage (Arranged) – Yoshiya Terayama – MEGAMAN 11 Original Soundtrack

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic the Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement. The Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

*Sonic Ring Bond logo created by DEE Art – twitter.com/daryliscute.

Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein considered for all legal purposes the property of the Sonic the Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS. All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

[blueskittlesart]

Can you walk us through the prossess you go through when drawing backgrounds?

yes but i talk too much all the time so click the readmore if u want bad advice :)

hmm im not entirely sure that im the best person to go to for advice on this lol. i consider myself a character artist first and foremost, hence why a lot of my art doesn’t have real backgrounds. 

when i draw backgrounds, i’m always thinking mostly about how they affect the character, who is usually the focal point of the drawing in my case. how am i planning to light the character? would this lighting make sense with my background, or do i have to adjust it to allow for the affect i’m going for? I also try to think about composition, which usually involves arranging the background so it leads the viewer’s eye to the focal point of the drawing. a lot of this comes naturally to me now, but if you’re having trouble with background composition i would recommend reading up on the elements of composition. i had them drilled into me in 8th grade and my art is definitely better because of it!

when i sketch out backgrounds, they are usually only gestural lines to give me the idea of the space. where the character needs to be fully rendered to be recognizable, i can easily fill in details that aren’t in my sketch with color later, and since the background is usually secondary to the character anyway I don’t need to go into as much detail with it. i don’t have any examples at the moment because i usually delete my sai files to save space once theyre finished, but hopefully you get the idea. after that it’s just a matter of defining the space with color. I work very sequentially which every art teacher in the world will tell you is Wrong And Bad, so don’t take this as the best way to do things in any way, but i usually fully color my backgrounds before moving on to the character on top of them. this tends to help me because with the background fully rendered i can see how light and shadows would fall on the characters more easily, but some people find it easier to block in flat colors and then shadows for the whole drawing at once. 

like i said, i rely on color a lot to make my backgrounds look less like messes. I usually use a LOT of references for both color and light, because coming up with pleasing color schemes is not really something i can do on my own yet lol. I also abuse the hell out of sai’s filter tools to adjust the color until it meets my qualifications. once i have the whole drawing colored, I adjust the colors of the lines with clipping groups so that they seem more seamless with the background. at this stage, i usually merge all my layers, which is a bad habit i picked up when i was first doing digital art and my shitty pc couldn’t run with a sai file open that had more than 5 layers. you really don’t need to merge all your layers. then i choose what i call the Extreme Highlight Color, usually white or a very light yellow or blue, and, using the same brush i used to sketch, I add a few especially bright hard highlight lines over my soft shading. if there’s anything I want to highlight in the drawing at this point that isn’t standing out the way I want it to, I can use these highlights to draw the eye to it, because they’re the lightest color in the drawing so they’re what the viewer will be inclined to focus on. the extreme highlights can also be used to seperate background elements that are blurring together, etc. 

the final step for me is to overlay! i choose my light color, almost always yellow but occasionally a blue or pink. always very light and not super saturated. on a new layer, I create a gradient from whichever direction the light is coming from in the drawing and fade the light color out to transparency. then i go to the layer’s mode and change it to overlay, and adjust the color and opacity until i get the desired effect. I do the same from the shadowed edge of the drawing, but with a dark color, usually a blue or purple. That explanation barely made any sense so here’s my best image reenactment:

and that’s pretty much it! i realize this probably wasn’t super helpful but that’s how i do it lol

[pauladchnd2c]

Something Told Research

Conceptual still life photography

Tips:

1. Choose Subjects that Speak to You

What you photograph is completely up to you. Have a search around the house to see if you can find something simple but interesting to start with. Please don’t feel like you have to take photos of fruit or flowers just because everyone else does: think outside the box without being overly ambitious.

If when you’re out and about something catches your eye, take it home with you (don’t steal it!) or make a note of it so as to remember to try photographing it in a still life context. Try to avoid reflective surfaces such as glass and metal to begin with, as they will be extremely difficult with regards to lighting. Once you’ve mastered the single object shots, try mixing it up, combine objects of contrasting shape, colour, texture and see what you can come up with.

2. Get Comfortable with Light and Lighting

Lighting doesn’t have to be expensive. I know certainly for me that a set of studio lights aren’t really within my budget, so for still life shoots I need to utilize all the light I can get my hands on, and that often means sunlight.

Remember that you have full control over the shoot, so if you want, find a room in which you can block out all natural light by using shutters or curtains, this way you will have complete control over the light upon your subject.

Using standard table lamps can work extremely well if used effectively. Be sure to try multiple positioning set ups, not all light has to come from the front of the object, side and back lighting will add interest, shadows and depth to the shot. Alternatively, choose a room that is well lit via a window, and use this to your advantage. The natural light from one side will comprehensively light your subject and you can compliment this with a lamp or reflector.

3. Get a Good Tripod and Work Your Angles

Depending on your lighting situation, you may or may not need to use a tripod and shutter release. I would recommend using these as they will allow you to observe and work with your subject matter. This set up will also allow you to use slightly longer shutter speeds than usual to ensure a small aperture allowing the image to be in focus front to back, if you so choose.

However, please don’t let a static camera stifle your creativity, it quickly gets forgotten that your camera has been sat in the same position for the whole shoot. Be sure to vary the angles and heights at which you are shooting. Otherwise, before you know it, you’ll have a whole collection of shots all take from the same point with little or know variation. Mix it up a bit. Try shooting at the level of the subject or try a bird’s eye view, looking down onto the subject, but be careful if you are moving around not to cast any shadows on your subject!

4. Get the Backdrop Right

Having a suitable backdrop for your subject matter will play a crucial role in the overall success of your shots. It’s best to keep it nice and simple, so it doesn’t interfere with your subject. A plain painted wall or a large sheet of white or plain colored paper would be ideal.

Think about how your choice of background contrasts the subject, do you want a neutral background, or are there tones that may work in complimenting the shades within your subject. For smaller objects, you may not need a backdrop as such, but instead require a surface to place the items on, for which something like black velvet is ideal, as it absorbs light and looks like a solid black surface.

5. Compose the Shot

The compositional element of your still life work is an absolutely crucial part of ensuring that your work is engaging and unique. Consider the rule of thirds, how can that be applied to your shoot to create a strong composition. Ensure there are no distractions within the frame, just the subject and the backdrop.

Be sure to vary the composition of the subject matter through the shoot and think outside the box. Where are you leading the eye within the image? Are you utilizing negative space or might it work to try and fill the frame? Engage with the subject, what are its defining features? What is it used for? Are you able to put it into context or does it work as a stand alone subject?

6. Take All Day Over It, If You Need

I often find that my mentality surrounding a shoot is dependent on the reason for the shoot. If I am simply taking photos for pleasure or for myself (as opposed to being assigned work by somebody else), I will be less stringent with ensuring that all the aspects of the shoot are as well executed as they can be. This is obviously a bad habit that am aiming to shed, but when it comes to still life photography, there is no reason not to get it right. You have as much time as you need to do a good job!

Unlike a landscape shoot, the light isn’t rapidly changing and unlike a portrait, you’re subject isn’t going to get bored of keeping still for long periods of time. Take advantage of this, set up your subject, lighting, backdrop and camera, try a few shots, then move things around a bit and have another go. If you get to a point where you feel like things aren’t going quite right, you can just leave everything set up, make yourself a cup of tea and come back to it refreshed later on.

Another advantage is that there’s no excuse not to have clean and sharp images, take time to get the lighting and focus just right. If you can get your hands on one, a macro lens will be ideal for this sort of work, however, if not, try selecting macro mode on your camera to give you the best chance of capturing the close up detail in your subject.

7. Get Inspired by the Masters

If you’re struggling with the lighting, composing or structuring of your shots, then you need to find some inspiration, and where better to look than to the original still life masterpieces of years gone by. Have a search online for renaissance still life artists and observe the elements of the pieces.

Studying these paintings will help you to think about form, shades and how the colors work together and will hopefully give you a few ideas on how you can shape your photography work to form strong and engaging images.

8. Develop Your Eye for Still Life Scenes

Now it’s time for you to have a go yourself. Find a quiet day in your schedule and set aside some time to practice. Try setting up your camera and backdrop by a suitably light spot next to a window and get snapping!

Once you’ve mastered the basics, try getting creative, experiment with camera angles, lighting angles and alternative light sources such as candles and lamps. You could even try getting creative with apertures and use a f/1.8 prime lens to achieve an artistic shallow focus. However, if you take one thing from this tutorial, let it be this: still life photography does not have to be of fruit and flowers! Find some unique and inspiring subject matter that gets you excited and start shooting!

9. Perfect Your Post-Production Process

Working with your pictures after the shoot shouldn't feel like a chore. It should be fun!

Photoshop actions are often touted as a great time-saver, but to my mind the biggest advantage they give you is a highly repeatable workflow. Instead of having to work through all the steps from scratch, and action makes a set of choices for you, then you teak and adjust to make things perfect.

https://photography.tutsplus.com/tutorials/10-tips-to-get-started-with-still-life-photography--photo-8278

Some examples:

Liam J Curtin

Dave Bradley