#I always admire artists that can convey so much with very few words because I simply do not operate that way with my writing asldkfj

[secretly-a-ghost]

Holding out for the wane of the day Holding out for the wane of the day When I waste my time with ruthless pride

[missgeniality]

A Work Of Art (m)

“In our life there is a single color, as on an artist’s palette, which provides the meaning of life and art. It is the color of love.” - Marc Chagall

➺ Banner: The lovely @dee-ehn 💕

➺ Pairing: Jimin x Female Reader

➺ Genre: PWP, Smut, Slightest Angst

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 7.3k

➺ Summary: You surprise Jimin with his Filter outfit; and then some.

➺ Warnings: tongues get tired in this fic, dom!jimin, we talk about spit, some biting, jimin loves praise, lingerie n stuff, nipple play, oral sex (m&f receiving), we talk more about spit, some bondage is involved, degrading names, blindfolds, spanking (maybe too much, don’t look @ me), light choking, light face-fucking, cum eating, we talk even more about spit, hickeys galore, some edging?, unprotected sex (don’t do it kids, not even for Jimin)

➺ Author’s Note: (repost bc tags, you know how it is) huge s/o to @ilikemesometaetaes for making time to beta read this monstrosity 💜 thank youuuu! Also thanks to @honeiibeehobi, @kithtaehyung for helping me with the many many details & @ppersonna​for hyping up this idea or else it would have never seen the light of day ;_; lol i will come back to edit this cuz this didnt let me focus on my paper due tonight so if you see a spelling mistake or tense error umm no you didnt 👀

do let me know your thoughts!! the smallest feedback goes a long way! 💛💛

This is the first part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

Y/N: soooooo, I did a thing. JM: is the dishwasher flooding our kitchen again? Y/N: -_- i’ll give you two more guesses. JM: oh no. you picked up a dog from the street again.  Y/N: come onn!! JM: y/n, last time you picked one up, HE HAD AN OWNER Y/N: you’re down to your last try, or else i’m taking this off. JM: … JM: so its something you have on? 😏 Y/N: pic_210124.jpg JM: holy shit JM: wait wait fuck JM: keep the door unlocked.

“You like?”

The bob in his Adam’s apple wordlessly conveys the answer you’re looking for.

A crisp, white, button down shirt, tucked into black trousers, topped off with a panama hat that matches your top half is the view Jimin comes home to. Your dress pays homage to Jimin’s Filter outfit - actually, the exact one - the one that showcased his immaculate dance moves, the one that exposes his delicious collarbones, the one that brings the irresistible urge to bite your way up his neck - the one he eventually rids. 

If you had to pick a color, he is a flustered orange, bright and blushing, turned on by the indecent implication of your very decent outfit.

You’re on the counter, one leg crossed over the other, accentuating the swell of your ass. Landing on the pads of your feet, you take a few steps towards the man with the unhinged jaw.

“Babe.” a mellow croak - Jimin can’t get a whole sentence out without saliva pooling and obstructing his speech. “You, in my clothes… fuck.” 

Chuckling at his very obvious loss of words, you give him a twirl, allowing him to fully soak in your outfit.

“Was waiting for you.”

Three long strides and you were in his arms, a pair of lips desperate to invade your space and claim you. An Angel on your shoulder tells you to give in; after all, this is the end result - what you both want. 

However, the Devil on the other side, no no no. It wants you to make him suffer. To get revenge for all the times you were taken control of. It remembers all the days he turned you on with shoot photographs and all the nights he brought you to the brink only to stop you from tipping over with a cocky smirk and a cheeky wink. 

The Devil was created from the moments when you thought you would actually erupt, begging for release, only to be shoved aside with a single growl of ‘don’t you fucking dare.’ 

Your desire to please him effectively silenced the Devil and kept it at bay. But no more. All those times built up and gave your Devil the power to force its way against your will to restrain it, causing it to rise to the surface.

You will have the upper hand. 

So you push him away, keeping him at an arm’s length for your safety to have him on his toes. Forlorn eyes meet your steely ones, and you physically stop yourself from giving in to his puppy gaze - those eyes can turn icy and sultry when nailing you into the bed like his rent depended on it. 

“Sit there. I have a-” You turn to switch on some music, “-small present for you.”

“If the small present isn’t me folding you in half and fucking you till sunrise,” He sits with visible reluctance, irises slowly transforming into magma orbs, “I don’t want it.”

“Well, we’ll see… Depends on how you behave.”

On a normal day, this comment would have lit your ass on fire, pronto.

Today isn’t a normal day at all. 

You stride on, every noiseless step you take leaving a wreckage of nerves behind, ignoring the smoldering gaze he has locked on you- you are unsure whether he is deciding your punishment or simply admiring how his clothes fit on your body.

You stand on the side, drinking him in. 

From your viewpoint, this is ridiculous. Those cursed jeans, vacuumed onto his thighs, ensure your eyes don’t miss a single ridge. His legs are spread out, beckoning you to have a seat, and the Angel once again begs for some reprieve. He knows what he’s doing; knows you inside and out- knows you couldn’t miss a chance to ride him like this. The wicked smirk flashing back at you is confirmation. 

But you stymy that thought at its root. Walking behind, you wrap your arms around him to faintly buss his cheek. 

“Sooo I was watching Filter…” 

Jimin hums against your feeble touch. He wants more. The soft wind of your breath routing through his jeweled ear sends a wave of goosebumps down his spine. From behind, you run your hands over his sinewy biceps, taut in restraint - holding themselves back against the suffering you are putting him through. 

“You do know how fucking hot you looked, right?” You playfully let your tongue toy with the hanging ornament, the briefest of flicks causing Jimin’s shoulders to push back, trying to connect with your bosom.

With a crooked finger under his jaw, you bring him to meet your eyes- eyes that are adorned with layered shadows of deep maroons, a variety of colors blending into your skin tone, eyelashes piqued up and ready to reach the clouds.

“So pretty…” He whispers out as you place your hat on its rightful throne - Jimin’s head.

A lone digit traces the lines of art you etched for him, appreciating every single stroke you put in to make a memorable time. Warm merigold rays bloom in your chest in response to his gaze, with him looking at you like you invented the sky. Pupils are dilated, and the only reason you can see each other is because of the practically nonexistent distance between you.

His eyes pick up on your tapering resolve to keep him in line. A light quiver of need passing your lips as you hopelessly vie for dominance is what most likely gives you away. 

Grabbing you by the neck, he pulls you into a deep kiss, plunging his tongue into you with reckless abandon like he was a nomad all this while and your mouth has finally claimed him home. Your neck strains at the awkward angle and surely even his is hurting, but the pressure of his hand is unrelenting.

His tongue searches and searches, desperately looking for a part in you he has not yet explored. You’d think the years of togetherness would have diminished this fiery attraction but no, he comes onto you like he has a mission to prove - to validate his love for you, to plead you to be his. You would happily accept this shower of affection, returning it with due interest.

With great difficulty you part, a string of spit still connecting your lips because he has not let you move far enough. “Uh-uh. Be good.” You pout a little, breaking character.

“You’re here. In my clothes. A walking dream. How the fuck am I to be good?” He pulls you back in to continue what you cut short but you break the line of spit and his intention with a hand wedged between your faces. 

“I asked you a question, Mister.” Back on your cocky nature, you graze your lips against oh-so-lightly, barely giving him anything to feel, but the tingling on his skin shows he can feel it all.

The adoration moves into a competition, “You tell me, sweetness - how did I look?”

It’s always the praise. He loves it when you struggle to tell him his dick was crafted by the heavens when you’re choking on it, but he still makes you do it. You stutter and stumble your words when his lips smack against your cunt, devouvering and digging for the treasure of your cum, but he forces you to tell him. When you sit on his dick, your brain has no sense of diction or direction, only chasing the high at his mercy, but he makes you scream it out loud, letting everyone beyond the pearly gates know, between moans and wails, that only he can break you down this way. 

“This shirt, sweetie.” Your nose trails the path between his collar and the ends of his hair, basking in the sweet vanilla scent, “You’re all covered. Why, pray tell,” You dig your teeth into the point where his shoulder meets his neck, “does this sole patch of skin turn me on so bad?”

He sucks in an inhale through his clenched teeth, his stunning visage devoid of any virtue. His head is thrown back, hat toppling over in the movement and giving you a larger canvas to mark, an opportunity you happily grasp. The mellifluous tones he is producing is recorded in your mind for lonelier nights to come. 

“And the red suit? Fuck, your corseted waist?” At the corner of your eye you see his fingers clenching into a fist, your lush voice making it harder and harder for him to breathe. 

You slowly stride forward, painfully slow, letting him notice every single muscle of your body curving to his unspoken command, undoing one button at a time until your torso is revealed- and shows the true purpose of your scarlet eye makeup. 

A deep burgundy camisole, ribbed at the waist to accentuate the way your hips flow has Jimin salivating to no end. The strappy number, with carmine ribbons flowing into your yet to be removed bottom half- a deed Jimin intends on rectifying very, very soon- calls to him sinfully. The lingerie twists and ties in incomprehensible ways, but the amount of cleavage it gives you is ungodly. 

If they weren’t already, Jimin’s eyes are now wide open.

Time comes to a standstill as he checks out your whole figure, taking in every embroidered pattern on the lingerie and every embellishment on your breasts. Before, you were already a five-star meal, but now? An emperor’s feast. 

The little flower right on top of your nipple has Jimin’s attention. His thumb comes up to trace the bedecked rose, following the stitched line of stem that takes him to the peak, then drawing over petal by petal. Each time he reaches close to your hardened nub, he abstains from crossing over it, making your nipple hardens imperceptibly under the presentiment of any relief and the disappointment when nothing arrives. His other hand, sitting on your waist, coaxes you to straddle him while he plays gardner on your bust.

“Jimin…” Your nipple, finally finding solace under his thumb, is not faring too well under the attention. Your plan of teasing him is slipping through your fingers like sand.

“Tell me baby, what do you want?” His finger is now tracing the seams of your lingerie cups, admiring the way they frame your ample bosom. Things are progressing too slow for your liking, and you come clean with your ignoble intentions. 

“Please, I just want to suck you off.”

A wad of spit lands directly into your cleavage, followed by two thick fingers penetrating the lubed entrance. 

“Nope.” His fingers continue to shallowly fuck your cleavage. Neither of you are being touched in the erogenous zone, but why does it feel so good? Your valley is inundated with his dribble, coating your ensemble and shifting shades to a deep cerise. Every pump of his nimble fingers between your breasts is like a promise of what your pussy is going to go through. Will he fuck you hard and fast with your voice echoing across the room, making every neighbor privy of your sexual escapedes? Will he be slow and gentle, penetrate you with utmost care, soft gasps and whines only sounded to the two of you? You can never guess.

In the aphrodisiac moment, you forgot that you were supposed to take charge. 

“Please, please, please! I did so much,” You take the guilt route. If Jimin was anything, he was a just and fair man. “Can’t I get that much?”

Jimin’s gaze has not left your wet cleavage. A flit of his eye makes contact with yours and goes back to the fucking - that is enough language for you to understand his needs. You bend low, and spit out a fat glob onto your chest to add to the mess he has already made. The groan that leaves him is ungodly, and he licks the spit you unloaded onto yourself, spreading it all over your expensive wear. He slurps like you released sweetened water to a parched traveller, your bosom holding all the sweetness to itself.

Gathering your thoughts is more difficult than you could ever imagine. The cloth over your nipples is completely soaked, bitten into and sticking to your skin thanks to the vacuum Jimin pulled on them. Your back has had a workout, every vertebrae bent to its maximum possibility. Chiropractors are so last year, you just have your boyfriend ravish your breasts.

“Once I’m done, you can do whatever you want.”

All of your five brain cells had to be put in action to form that sentence. The moment the words left your lips, the pressure your breasts were on had been released, but you could still feel lips against you, stretching into a snarky smirk.

“Whatever?” His grip on your waist tightens, seating you more firmly onto his taut thighs. 

Whatever. That stupidly amazing word. 

“Saying ‘whatever’ always lands you in trouble. Have you forgotten?” His damp lips are tracing your collarbones, nibbles whenever he felt appropriate. How does he expect you to form a damned sentence like this, the Devil on your shoulder indignantly asks. The Angel on the other has gone back in time to fetch memories filed under the term ‘whatever’, strictly saved for your quality alone-time. 

The first time you told him to do ‘whatever he wants’ was fairly early into your relationship. Sex was as vanilla as the ice cream tastebud-less people liked, and none of you ever pushed it too far. A happy, drunken night with a loose-lipped confession from him. 

“God, the things I want to do to you…” he had muffled into your hair, maybe not even intended for your ears to pick up. 

A cheeky giggle had bubbled out of your tipsy self. “Like what, tie me up?”

If Jimin then were a color, he was a pantone pink. Blushed cheeks from the alcohol and the realization that you had caught him, airbrushed with a depth you weren’t able to put in place that early in the relationship. Wide-eyed horror was shown in its place, possibly exaggerated to add to the denial he had landed himself in. 

“No no, of course, I don’t mean it like that, what ar-”

“Why not?”

The animal that awoke after confirming with you fifteen times was a force to be reckoned with. Your bra had turned into rope, wrists bound behind as he roughly squished your helpless cheeks. 

“You will tell me when to stop, right?” His tongue peeked lightly, brushing your top lip, taking the perspiration away.

“Uhmf-yufh!” 

“God, you’re gonna regret this baby.” 

But it was exactly the opposite. You got the railing of a lifetime, heard the filthiest words that could leave the lips of such a courteous man - a side you had not expected at all. You couldn’t possibly recollect every single move he made, but what you can recollect with excruciating detail is every feeling you felt that night. It was filled with lust, with revelations of the new ways your body could bend, a night of puppetry where Jimin played you like the master your body craved. The following day was Jimin taking care of you, big puppy eyes wondering whether he took it too far. In his daze of letting go of control, he couldn’t take in your lidded stare, heaving with satisfaction - so you made sure he could witness them when he took you the next time that morning.

The other time the wretched word was mentioned was during an argument. You’re not jealous of Jimin on stage - it’s his career and you were one of the girls offering one of their kidneys to be able to catch a glimpse of him. 

But your workspace? That’s where you draw the line. 

She was a random worker. Some third-floor low-lying soul. You were eighth-floor premium material (the floors didn’t decide shit, but no one can tell you what skyscraper semantics you can craft in your brain). A lifeless party that even Jimin’s colorful locks couldn’t color up. 

This random worker was very enamored by Jimin (as she should, the man is a whole nine-course meal). Supportive fans are not what get you jealous either. 

But the limit is when placed her scrawny fingers on Jimin’s hand, drawing the glass in his grip to her lips and took a sip from it. If her lashes were fanned they could blow a man away (which is probably more than what her puny mouth could possibly do). The fume exiting your ears could have been in bright red for all you care, because every office member had been rightfully annoyed. 

The whole car ride back was filled with your drunken blabbers about the different ways you could skin her. The actual victim beside you was not making a nearly big enough deal out of it, intending to let you get rid of your temper.

“She fucking knew!” Your normally clean disposition had taken its leave after the fuming temper took real estate in your brain, and you aimlessly threw your heel at some corner of the house - hungover self shall have to deal with this angry mess you’ve made. Wait, you’re an angry mess too.. “The gall she had, I should jus-”

You march towards the door, in hopes of what, you don’t know. But if you didn’t take action you’ll probably explode. Any action, just anything. You never find out though, because a strong arm slithered around your waist and halted your expedition. 

“Calm down, feisty. Where are you going now?” His soothing voice, punctuated with a mocking chuckle almost quelled the fire in you. Almost. 

But you’re not done being an idiot. 

“To go find her for you. You’d fuck the living daylights out of her, right?”

The loudest silence you have ever encountered. Jimin’s grip on your waist tightened to the point where it could have hurt. Like he was trying to push every iota of that thought out of your body. From behind, you can hear a deep breath dragging, and somewhere in your irate head you knew you had struck a nerve, a bad one. Jimin is forced to expel any anger bubbling in him, trying to use reason with an unreasonable recipient. 

“Princess, you don’t actually think I’d do that right?”

“I don’t know!” Your misplaced anger had reached the rooftops. Jimin had done nothing wrong here except try to calm an increasingly livid girlfriend. “Maybe you’d love that. Her itty-bitty waist, that whore’s outfit she had on. You call me a whore right? Maybe she’s more worthy of you!” 

“Y/N.”

The timbre of his voice had completely changed. The breathy, airy aura had completely departed from your name he had just called. The lack of nicknames raised some hair at the nape of your neck, but you’re a stubborn one. 

“Ugh, I don’t care.”

You tried to walk back to your room, head still reeling in a palace of inferno, burning everything that dares to intrude your path - but somehow, you had been pushed to a wall, and the eyes of the man you loved had turned feral. 

If Jimin was a color, he was green - igniting with fury, anger repressed in dark shadows that never made the light of the day until pushed - but you pushed all right. And now released from its shackles, it has surrounded you and slammed you against the wall - and you have nowhere to go. 

“You’re my whore. Is that a complaint from my stupid, stupid whore?”

The only joint you’re free to move is your neck, and your gratuitous self decided to rebel with whatever degree of freedom you have. Turning your face away to not meet his seething eyes, you continue your rebel-without-a-cause tantrum.

“Whatever.” you carped out.

Again, with that stupid word, you had signed your fate for the night. 

Usually, you can express your feelings. Be it pain or pleasure (sometimes the two packed in one), you could wail it out to the heavens and respite would follow. 

Usually, you can see the torments laid out on you. Jimin’s lithe body performing every obscene spell he invoked is a treat for your eyes. He treats your body like an artisan, using any medium to paint his art on you.

But that day, you were stripped of them both, and made to realize what a privilege they were.

Mouth stuffed with your bunched up panties, eyes blinded by his tie of the evening, you could only rely on the sensors on your skin to somehow predict what was going to be done to you. And you failed. Every single time. Every thwack fell on a new area. Every teasing touch tickled you at a new place. Nothing could begin to prepare you for his next move and you couldn’t keep up with his tameless pace.

He made you beg through the makeshift gag, beg to let you come, then beg to stop coming, beg for every orifice of yours to be filled by his seed and then beg to get cleaned by him. With the first rays of morning sunlight, language was an illusion, time was an out-of-reach concept, and all you knew was the worshipping of last night.

Whatever is a word. Whatever is mean. Whatever is filthy. Whatever is nailing you into the bed and rendering you immobile for the entire day. Whatever may just be a word to anyone, but to you it is what has you losing sense of reality, giving in to a phantasm of your wildest dreams. 

A wet tap on your cheek brings you back from you imagining the past - the fingers that were fucking your cleavage are squishing your cheeks, bringing your attention back from all your dirty memories to the present - to create another memory to add to your folder. 

If Jimin is a color, he is the darkest of all blacks. This is where everything pious comes to meet its sordid end. His sultry gaze is reading your eyes, searching for where you got lost, which shared memories of passed time made you melt into the puddle that you are right now. 

“I said, don’t you remember? ‘Whatever’?”

Let’s see. You don’t have work tomorrow. You don’t have any commitments. You don’t have to meet anyone. 

So there is no reason for you to be able to move. 

“Hmmmmn, I don’t seem to recall - you could remind me.”

Dark, dark chuckles from such a cherubic face. You flounder off his lap to shuck your (his) pants away, revealing the matching maroon garter belt set. The whole outfit is an ode to Jimin’s mid performance transformation, the one that made many people’s hearts skip a quick beat. His slim, cinched waist, the flared pants flowing down his frame were one for the books, and you’d like to think your rendition has its place too. 

Giving him a quick spin, you attempt to get down to business - but Jimin pulls you back on his lap. Without the pants, you can feel it - his hard, thick cock straining against the tough jean fabric and still making its presence known. 

“Tell me more, baby. What did you like?”

The man was a sucker for your praise. 

You were a sucker for the whole man. 

But the sucking will probably have to wait. 

“I loved your expressions. You’re so sexy on stage, fuck. Going around and giving bedroom eyes to the world.” 

His hand gripping you ass gives it a quick pinch, but voice just let out a lazy hum to get you to continue.

“The choreography,”, your whisper is strained, “you dance like you fuck baby. So sensual, so sexy.”

You lick a stripe up his neck, from his artistic collarbones to the back of his ear, the sensitive spot that makes him hiss is arousal. You stay there, wanting to whisper the next few lines. The world didn’t need to know your thirst for this. 

“You know my favorite part?” 

“Oh, tell me.” His voice is hitting lower and lower in pitch, much like it’s hitting you lower and lower in your body. 

You place the hand framing his face on his neck - the same one you want to cover in blooms of purple and red, lightly squeezing, letting him preen under the pressure. The tightness has Jimin’s head falling back on the headrest, and you can feel his pulse hastening to accommodate for the lacking oxygen in his stream. 

Letting go of his throat, and pleased to see the lightest indentation on his beautiful pale skin, you snake your hands downward. 

“Na, na, na,” Inching slowly towards your end goal, you whisper the tune into his ear, “na na na, na, na na”, covering every part with an indulgent languish, “pick your filter”.

Your hand finally reaches its destination - you grab his bulge and squeeze the hardness, making Jimin buck his hips against your palm. 

“Namaneul damabwa.”

It’s a low whisper from his lips, but even in the gravelly sound you can hear how melodious he is, how the song rolls off of his tongue and was made for his vocal color. The whisper is laced with lust, with want, with desire, all the feelings you portrayed for him in his performance.

That, and in life in general. 

You shuffle and sit to the side, simultaneously unbuttoning his jeans to get him some relief for the ache he had going on. Finally, you acquiesce and free his dick from its cages.

Every time you see him is a wonder to you. Hard, ridged, the right amount of veins to stimulate the walls of your cunt. Head leaking from the eons of teasing you’ve been doing, right from the text you sent to seconds ago. You bend down to clean him up, tasting the saltiness of his seed that has coated the head. Jimin’s lips are facing the brunt of your deeds - his teeth have found near permanent residence in its plushness, digging deep to keep from moaning too early, from giving you the pleasure. He is going to make you work. 

Well, you must get to work. 

Slowly, slowly, you dip your head in further, sucking lightly with each move, tongue tracing every vein on his dick. As you move your head back up, Jimin’s hand pushes into your back, making it arch further, and then you go down on his dick. His finger lightly follows the curve of your back, from your upper back all the way to the band of your lace panties. 

Hooking a finger underneath the lace fabric of your panty that had disappeared in between your mounds of flesh, he pulls at it - hard.  Your throat revolts against the intrusion as you gag, and the fabric presses into your clit. The concentrated abrasion turns into pleasure - he uses it to arch your back further, and bring your ass closer so that he can-

Smack! 

The spank sends you forward and you choke on his dick further, throat giving in to his hardness. 

“So good for me baby. Look at that ass.” He grabs one cheek, bubbled with the way your panties are now, squeezing and testing the firmness of your glutes. 

Your plans of torturing him are shot; the Devil on your shoulder is strangely mute. Awakening the brat, you slip a hand under and toy with his balls, pulling back to provide your throat some recess. Your saliva mixed with his precum is an gushing mess, glistening on his balls and now coating your palms as you play with light squeezes - the existing stiffness caused by your teasing arousal mixed with your playful fingers make Jimin buck into your mouth, releasing a delicious groan in the process.

A second spank is a warning, either you increase your pace or reap some serious consequences. You consider the consequences; they are very compelling. You could end with delicious marks of ownership from this delicious man. But he deserves the best suck of his life, and you’re going to do just that.

Hollowing your mouth, you go further down, till his head is poking an uninvaded point in your throat, and Jimin lets out a surprising note. A groan, no, a roar, but a tinge of whine mixed in it, like the pleasure is too much for him. 

You continue to swallow around, hand pumping the length you couldn’t take in, interlarded with swipes on his tight balls, leaving Jimin to be a heaving mess. Your ass is not faring better, bearing the brunt of his replies. You’re positive his fingerprints are imprinted on your asscheek, and one sit on his phone can unlock it. The line of your panties is drenched with your sopping wetness and lodged between the lips. 

“God, I’m so close baby, just a little more.” 

You would fervently nod in acceptance to whatever demand he places; in this position, he could ask you for the world and you would have it at his disposal. But what stops you are his ringed fingers lodged in your hair, pushing you in further, determined to spill deep in your throat, to the point where you don’t even have to swallow to get everything down. 

“Fuck, such a good girl for me.” Jimin appraises how deep he is going, how your throat is accommodating him and quivering around his length. Bunching your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, he stops them from obstructing his vision - the view of you struggling to take him in, toiling to keep the need to breathe at bay while you tend to his needs, worshipping his dick like its the last meal you’ll ever get - your desperate adulation takes him over the brink.

Jimin erupts into your mouth; an ungodly amount at that. It is the hardest he’s come in a while, and given your lifestyle, that’s saying something. Even a cum-hungry whore like you can’t possibly swallow that much in one go, and you are forced to let the globs dribble down his now-softening member. The two of you are heaving, catching a breath - completely different circumstances but the same result. 

The way you’re looking at him right now; his dick is already twitching to go for a second lap. Dilated pupils staring back, like you were at the receiving end of the orgasm - you are staring at him like he hung every star in the sky. Strings of cum are leaking out of the corners of your lips, ones he really wants to lap up with his tongue. Instead, you daintily dab it away - as innocent as pecking stray drops of ice cream off your mouth. 

You look at him with teasing eyes. “Want a taste baby?”

Running your tongue along the mess you (or he) made, you gather the remnant cum that didn’t go into you, and instead flooded his groin. Straddling back onto his lap, you go in for a kiss but stop halfway.

Jimin is looking, waiting with lust hungry eyes. Slightly pained by the pause, he whines. 

“What?”

“Open your mouth.”

From a height, you let his cum and your spit drop into his mouth, a groan of satisfaction emanating as Jimin’s tongue accepts it with great delight. He tastes his juices, they somehow feel sweeter coming from your mouth. He pushes the glob you dropped on his tongue against the roof of his mouth, letting every taste bud bathe in relish. When he’s sucked all flavor out of the globule he swallows it. On opening his eyes and landing back from heaven to earth, he sees you admiring his adam’s apple, the way it bobbed when he swallowed your offering. 

Jimin’s eyes trace your current state; you look beautiful. The strappy red lingerie wet from Jimin’s treatment perfectly showcases your peaked nipples, ready for another round of torture. His shirt, through all this has managed to stay hanging on your shoulders. The curves of your sinful waist accentuated by the ribbons of the wear, like roads down a windy path, every ribbon vanishing into their destination, between your curvaceous thighs. 

Slipping his fingers under the band, he decides he has not played with the lingerie enough, tugging it up once again - a sharp inhale and you’re moving along with it, upward to balance between the point of pain and pleasure. Jimin makes sure you don’t tip in favor of one. Grabbing you by the neck, Jimin harshly pulls you down into a deep kiss.

He’s done waiting, done watching you take the reins. His tongue tells you that you now can only react to his doings. Deepening the kiss, you let your mind walk places. Back to his performance, his stage presence, the aura he exudes when he is in his element. His sinful body melding to the flow of the beat, like the music was made to his movement - his piercing gaze that could leave an insentient camera with blushed cheeks - but a sharp bite pulls you right back to the present to remind you that this is also Jimin in his complete element. Pillowy lips, incandescent with every brush, sucked and nipped with fervor. But it still didn’t satisfy. It wasn’t nearly enough. Starved, you wanted to scream at every imperceptible air pocket between the two of you - as if you knew in your soul they were guilty of keeping you away. 

Jimin pulls away, and his words shut you down before the whine leaves you. 

“About that ‘whatever’…” his sinister eyes are a window to his brain churning something unimaginable to close the night - sinister in uppercase. Make it bold. Underline that shit. That’s him. 

In the bat of an eye, you are face down on the sofa - Jimin’s rock hard thighs are straddling you, making sure you can handle his weight. In all the coarseness, he takes care of the smallest of things. An untimely smile creeps up on your face at the thought, the tender show of affection amidst the rough push and pull affecting your immersion, but you can’t say you don’t like it.

Feeling a rough jerk on your shoulder, you try to look back, just in time to receive Jimin’s ravenous gaze; he looks at you like he will eat you alive, and by the end of the night you plan on having just that. Pulling back your now-unbuttoned shirt and bunching its ends, he anchors you to the position of his choice by tying your hands behind.

Smelling a line up your neck all the way up to your hair, he briefly pauses to ask “Okay?”

Your tiny nod is enough for Jimin to carry on with whatever godless plan he has chalked out for you. 

“I hope you had your fun. Because I’m not going easy on you.”

Light banter could cause no trouble. Atleast, not more than you already have. “When have you ever?”

Flashbacks of the blossoming days of your relationship flicker in Jimin’s mind, their fugacious presence a telling sign of how long it has been. Looking downward, he can only thank his alcohol-induced blabbering of that night as that is the reason he can enjoy the view he has right now. 

“Maybe I should take it easy?” His tongue flits across your neck, too soft for your liking, torturous like his liking.

His fingers are playing with the straps and your now exposed upper back. It’s always been a favorite place of his. The whole expanse looks resplendent when he is done tasting you. Maroon and purple florets on your beautiful, glowing skin. And then you purposely wear dresses to show it all off, to show who your heart belongs to. He loves that about you. 

You gyrate lightly, snapping him out of his daze, begging him to take you hard and fast. “Jimin, please.” a low drawl leaves you as you try to not slobber all over the cushion. 

Jimin shifts lower to straddle your thighs. Snaking his hand between your legs, he finds your clit and plays with it, every press releasing a different sound from different depths of your throat. A particularly low grunt appears when he slips two fingers into your channel with smooth ease, and pushes you up from the inside. 

“Ass up for me.”

His fingers stay lodged inside as you raise your hips to obey him, pulling you up further and further till he is satisfied with your position. God, your pussy looks wrecked. With every pump of his fingers you gush our more liquid, and Jimin gathers the escaping drops on this tongue. 

“So perfect for me, this hole.” You can feel the cold metal of his rings drawing circles inside you as he prepares you to take his cock. His tongue, drawing completely different characters is too slow for your liking - he seems to be more satisfied in drinking your cum dripping from his fingers instead of paying attention to your throbbing clit. Seconds go by, several hinting moans of dissatisfaction go by, but the Devil on your shoulder seems to have returned and is asking for more. A hip raise, that’s all. His tongue will be right where you want. 

What you got instead was a sharp bite on your already battered ass - Devil, hey, where did you go? “Behave.” He grunts against your pussy, and a fresh wave of arousal escapes you with a third finger making its way in. “Don’t like it? Too,” Smack! “Fucking.” Smack! “Bad.”

The last spank hit you hard, leaving your cunt soaked to the core. He is trying to get a rise out of you, and you are falling for it. Your smarting skin is at its breaking point, but let’s not pretend like you don’t want this either. 

“Baby please, I’m so close.” You’re close to tears with how long you’ve been this turned on. Maybe Jimin will have a change of heart seeing you like this.

“Don’t.”

Well maybe not.

He’s using your hole like playdough - for his fancy, with no end goal in sight. He doesn’t seem to want you to come anytime soon and it is bothering you to no end. The tightening coil in your belly is almost painful at this point - but he doesn’t seem to want to let up anytime soon. 

“You taste so sweet baby, almost don’t want to let you come, so you keep dripping like this.” 

His fingers curl into you to hit that spot, and God, you’re seeing stars right now. Curling up your fists into a ball and trying to keep the threatening tsunami at bay, you jerk into his mouth and continue to sway to the tune his fingers play inside you. If desperation had a poster girl, they could take your photo right now.

“If you let me come I -ohhh- I will- I will give you more.” Your words are broken, every push into your cunt halting your flow of speech. 

A split second later you are empty. He’s pulled away from you, and you think the finger-fucking torture you were going through was almost better than this. Your walls flutter in empty anguish. 

“Better keep your promise then.” Finally, you hear Jimin shuffling behind, but your muscles feel too alive and too dead at the same time. At crossroads, you are unable to get yourself to move, to twist or turn and witness the glory of him, the scrunch of his features, the grit of his pronounced jaw, his lips heaving a sigh as he pushes his girthy self into your leaking hole. 

Jimin’s forehead is lined with sweat, jaws hurting from the tight clench he had trying to not nut into you too soon. Now they revolt in pain, ready to pass on their trouble to his dick and release into you the moment he fits himself in. But he held off; he had plans for you - long plans. 

As he slowly pulls himself out, you can’t help but mewl at the pleasure your walls are feeling, with every ridge of his cock pressing all the right spots inside you, the snug fit when he’s pulled out all the way only leaving the head inside you. Then, you can’t help but yell, expressing a mixture of anguish and pleasure when his hips snap to push into you in one swoop, hitting deep inside you. With your ass high up in the air, his balls smack your engorged bud, sending shockwaves throughout your body and clenching the hold you have on his dick.

“Fuck baby, you feel fucking tight. You’re so close?” Jimin’s voice is strained as well; the lack of mocking in his tone tells you he is close as well. 

“Ki-Kiss me, please.” The voice that leaves you is so foreign, so unknown. The fucked out woman speaking in your stance has no spatial or temporal comprehension. You don’t even realize how you are put on your back, now a lucky witness to Jimin’s nimble figure pushing back into you as he leaned over to slot his lips on yours. 

The kiss was explicit, it was rough, it would put to any kiss you’ve shared before to shame. Deep in throes of pleasure, his mouth is chasing yours. Your hands are still bound; a light fight against the restrain tells you you don’t have a chance. Instead, you suck his plush lip in, swiping your tongue across his cherry petals that are rushing with blood because of you. Dormant volcanoes across the world could erupt with the blaze of your merging lips, it is scorching hot. 

If Jimin is a color, he is a rich wine - deep and passionate. He puts his one hundred percent into whatever he does, be it skilled singing, adept dancing or simply fervent kissing. He gives it his all.

Jimin’s skillful hips move in every way he wishes - and your pussy is thankful for that. Rolling in deep, he tests the stretch of your walls, before pistoning into you with zeroed-in precision, sole focus to get you to come with him. The effort he was putting in could be seen in his abs - they have tightened with exertion, and with a light sheen on sweat, look absolutely delectable. 

Letting your hands roam, you bring Jimin’s face into your neck where you can hear every single breath, every hiss, every groan - that you could record and keep in your memory. With one hand tugging his tresses, and the other hand drawing paths on his back with your nails, you hear the sounds you want to. Jimin sharply bites your ear, and the shockwaves of pleasure send you tipping. 

There’s layers to the pleasure you are experiencing right now, your orgasm hitting you in ebbs and flows. Right when you think you can finally return back to ground, the high tide pulls you back into the water for another stream of pleasure. It feels like eternity when you finally hit the land, and even then the loose sand makes you falter, threatens to send you back into the ocean.

Jimin’s pace is faltering, and he spills soon after. Hot, heavy breaths tickle under your ear, as both of you feel the sheer intensity of the orgasm. Him on you, your hearts are aligned, and you can feel the beats fighting each other for dominance until they soften down. 

Ripples of energy flow out of the both of you, elevating the temperature around the two of you. If you didn’t have your eyes closed you’d say literal rolls of steam are emanating from the way you both are heaving. You slowly regain your senses, twitching hands trying to remember what it is that hands even do. 

A shiver runs through your spine when you hear a grunt so close to your ear, only to realize Jimin is in the same position as you are in. Even without looking, you can guess what his expression is. Void of any edge, the softness of his facial features must have made their return, with crinkled eyes and a light frown on his beautiful pouty lips, he probably looks like an innocent caricature of the man that stood behind you moments ago. Letting your palm rest on his head, you beckon him to get up.

If Jimin is a color, he is the pinkness best portrayed by his puffy cheeks at this moment. A childlike glow, a guileless visage. He looks at you with such adoration, like you are the only desire in his world, and everything else can be damned.

You don’t want to break this silence but you cheekily add, “You didn’t even get me naked. Like this a bit too much eh?”

Dark clouds mar the pink and turn it into a deep, sultry carmine - the shift in his color noticeably brings your temperature down by a few degrees.

“Cute. You think I’m done with you.”

He is the whole palette, and you can pick your filter.

Thank you for making it to the end! Let me know what you think! And you can find more of my writing at my masterlist here!

[princessmariaphiliper]

THE SLEEPOVER FIC | Part 1 The Meeting

Notes: James Acaster, Ed Gamble (Platonic), and other characters to be added.

Pairing: James Acaster x Reader 

Genre: Fluff with eventual smut, Slow Burn fic

Words: 1,951

Summary: You and James have put yourselves into trouble, but you think maybe it’s hotter that way. 

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

It was a boring, cottage cheese Wednesday if anyone had bothered to ask you. The sky held a greyish tinge and the London air tasted like exhaust fumes as you made your way back home from the studio. It was 5:50 and you were more than ready to curl into bed, put on a podcast, and stare at your ceiling until you slept.

You’d been tied up in a project lately that stripped every brain cell out of you whenever you tried to think about it. 

This wasn’t because you didn’t like it! Don’t get me wrong, you adored the concept you were trying to convey through your piece. It was just missing something. Hence, Wednesdays the past month had started to feel a little groundhog esque. You knew the fog would part soon. 

Pulling your clattering keys from inside your coat pocket you unlocked the door to your flat. Upon entering you noted the new letters. A missed parcel, various pizza menus and an enclosed envelope from Ticketmaster. Grinning, you opened it up. 

Ed Gamble, McDonalds Apple Pie, November 15th 2021. Sounded delicious, you pulled out your phone, texting Ed. 

Hey! Just got your tickets through. Where are you rehearsing? Let me know when it starts and we can plan something :) 

It had been a while since you and Ed had hung out. You lived on opposite ends of the city and for the most part you were usually busy when he was free ,or vise versa. That the trouble of being friends with theatre people, no matter how hard you try, the schedules don’t gel. However, Ed usually rehearsed his shows in the venue below your flat, luckily this time was no exception.

I start Friday, usual place. We can go for drinks after I finish at 7 if you like?

Yes :))))) would love that!! Can we say 7:15 though as I’ll have to get back from the studio and change 

Yeah that’s fine, I’ll invite some people if that’s okay. We can meet you at the pub first? 

Sounds perfect, see you then. Send Claire love! 

Will do :) 

You put the kettle on and made yourself a pot noodle. Getting ready to sleep before another day of making. Excited at least, with the knowledge that on Friday night, you were getting shitfaced with your mates. 

And so Friday arrived. You started the day off right with a banana and a coffee to go on your way down to the youth centre. Fridays and Tuesdays were your favourite days of the week currently. On these days you worked with other women exploring the ideas of femininity within society. For many years it had been a passion project of yours, creating dialogues with women who’d gone through difficult times in their lives to convey their struggles through art. 

Today you were hosting a dance workshop with a group you had been working with for a while. They had all been making tremendous progress over the past few months you wanted to hold a class in celebration.

“Good morning Y/N” a familiar face beamed from across the hallway. 

“Good morning Olive!” Olivia was a petite lady, somewhere close to her mid forties. She had dyed fire colour hair that she always wore up in a headscarf. She was dance ready, wearing an outrageous and gaudy pair of printed leggings. 

Olive had grown so much as a woman since the first time you had met her, in one of your first ever workshops. The two of you had become thick as honey ever since. She even occasionally helped you plan and run some workshops out of studio now. It gave you joy to know you helped her grow into her full potential in one way or another. 

“How have you been?” 

“Oh same old. Trying not to lose myself in projects. How about you?” 

“Brilliant! Officially divorced on Monday. Sorry I couldn’t make it on Tuesday I was feeling the effect after a few too many champagnes” she laughed, her smile was contagious. Olive had been going through a complicated divorce for a good few years now, some of the reasons she started the project stemmed from such a relationship.

She was such a resilient woman, managing to smile through whatever life had put her through. You loved her distinct lack of care for what people thought of her being a single woman in her forties. 

It made you really put your life into perspective when you had met her. Even encouraging you to drop ties with your ex partner four years ago, who simply, didn’t care for you as a person but rather as an stability object. You hadn’t been in anything serious since. Not that you didn’t want it, being single had it’s perks too. You simply hadn’t been searching. A “bold move” in your late 20’s.

“Congratulations, I’m so happy for you! I’ll have a few for you tonight darling”

“Out on the town are you?”

“Yeah I’m meeting an old friend and hopefully some new people too”

“Well don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she said with a wink. 

“I’ll try my best” 

It was 7:05 and you were definitely going to be late. You’d just set off from the studio, pushing your way through the crowds on the busy streets near your flat. It had been an intense day in the end, most of you and your class had gotten carried away with your choreography. Immersed in the music and memory you wanted to portray. In the end you had all learnt one another’s routines and combined them all to a jazz beat. 

You were still in your sports bra, leggings and oversized shirt with the duffel bag over your shoulder when you reached the outside door to your apartment complex. You heard a voice boom at you from behind. 

“Y/Nickname” you turned around, instantly knowing who it was by the stupid name. 

“Ed!” 

He was coming up from the basement venue staircase, there was another man loitering casually behind him. In an instant you recognised him from the telly. It was the one and only James Acaster, dressed in a deep green suit, white shirt and purple Oxfords. He had a peppering of stubble across his face that you hadn’t seen him sport on tv before. You noted it looked good on him. You made your way over to your friend and embraced him into the first hug you’d had in a long time. 

“Sorry I just got back, I might be a little late. I need to have a shower. Very sweaty” 

“Yes. Thanks for the hug” he said, making you chuckle. “We can wait around for you if you like. No one else is coming until later anyways. Oh! This is James by the way” James have a polite wave of a hello and smile at you then.

You didn’t quite know the etiquette of meeting people you’d seen on Dave for years. A simple, “Hi I’m Y/N” you decided was the most normal option. “You can come up if you like. I won’t be too long” 

“Sure” 

And so the trio of you braced the stairs and made it into your apartment. You moved rubbish around as you all entered. Slightly ashamed of how messy it was, moving open books into one corner of the living room to make space on the coffee table for some drinks. If they were waiting for you you’d at least fix them a little something as a thank you. 

“What would you like? I’ve got vodka, gin or tequila. Lemonade orange juice and pineapple juice for mixer” 

“Ooh vodka and pineapple sounds delicious Y/N” Ed said with some excitement, taking a comfortable seat on the sofa. James hung nervously by the door, as though he wasn’t sure of the etiquette this time. 

“Same here” he agreed

“Please have a seat, make yourself at home.” You said with a smile, watching as he looked around the room. You became slightly anxious that his glaze was clouded with judgement until he spoke as he went to take a seat next to Ed. 

“Nice place, where’d you get the paintings?” He asked genuinely as you began pouring three glasses of juice. 

“I made them myself” 

“Oh you’re an artist?” 

“Sort of, I work in lots of art forms, mostly theatre and community projects. Not painting though, it’s just hobby and plus, home décor is expensive”

He chuckled a little at that as you brought the two of them their drinks over. “I’ll put some music on while you shower is that okay?” Ed said, taking his phone out after taking a swig of his drink. “That’s strong” 

“Sorry might have given you mine” you said jokingly “let me disconnect my Bluetooth then” you said getting out your own and switching to Spotify. You played the music for a second or two just until you had it disconnected. It was the song you’d been working with all day at the studio with the jazz beat and hypnotic drumming.

“Is that Jon Bap?”

“Yeah, I was using it today at work” His eyes gleamed, visibly excited by the idea of it. 

“I love ‘What Now’,” he took a drink and shaking his head to himself “Such good drums on that album” 

“Yeah, you like the drums?”

“Was a drummer for years in my 20’s” 

You were slightly shocked by his comment on his age, always assuming he was younger than 30. Although it made sense for him and Ed to be in the same age bracket.

“Hey, that's cool, I never made it further than level two recorder. Guess I just don't have musical genes, anyways I’ll hop in the shower. Won’t be long” 

You made your way to the bathroom. Listening as the two men struck up a conversation. Giddy from the knowledge of their being pleasant conversation and good company tonight. You’d always admired James, never really considering the fact you may possibly meet him. You hoped that wouldn't mess up the possibility of a future friendship, by making a reference to something that he’d said on the telly before. Shaking the idea you stripped off, turning on the faucet and climbing inside. 

After you’d felt refreshed you did a little, awkward,  jig to your bedroom in your towel. You hadn’t considered the fact that from where James sat on the couch you could see all the way down the corridor. Your bathroom being on the right, and your room right on the very end. Embarrassment aside you dried off your hair and did your makeup quickly yet efficiently. Slowing down only to put on a red lip with care. You then got dressed. Choosing to opt for something a little fancy tonight as the other two had clearly made an effort. Even if you did end up somewhere at 4am, it still felt good to dress up for the walk of ‘platonic’ shame. 

You chose a silky skirt with a slip down the leg in a champagne iridescent colour. Paired with a tight long sleeved polo in white. You slipped on a pair of socks with ruffles over the top of your rhinestone tights. You emerged from your room feeling a little more confident and ready for a boogie. 

James smiled brightly at you when he noticed you’d come out. Something else was flashing across his face that you couldn’t quite pinpoint however. You brushed it off, blaming the triple vodka pineapple you’d been sipping through your ready-ing routine. 

“7:28, not bad” Ed said looking at his watch when you fully entered your living room. Pulling on your white leather converse. You told him to shut up in response and book an Uber.

[jisungsplatforms]

[Chapter I: Let’s Party!]

Pairing: Producer/Music Major! Han Jisung x Photographer! fem! reader

Genre: NSFW! Smut; non idol au, college au, strangers to lovers

Warnings: strong language, use of alcoholic beverages, drunken antics, ?? jackson wang is throwing a party?? (jk he’s not aljsks. changbin is tho), nothing filthy in this chapter, unfortunately :/ just plot build up

Chapter word count: 2.6k words

Taglist: @hyunjeongins @seungstarss @es-kay-zee @hyunjinsplaything @formidxble @freckledquokka (want to be added? send an ask or a dm! <3)

Haven University; school of the elite. From the academically inclined to the artistically blessed, only those who were gifted with such talents are accepted to augment their potential. The perfect school for the sensational.

...And like every other school with young hormonal adults, also the perfect school for a good fuck.

“Another outstanding submission, Y/n! Keep up the great work!”

You smiled at your photography teacher, Mr. Kim, bowing humbly as you thanked him. You were proud. Praise after praise for your picture taking skills only heightened your motivation to be the best even more. Photography has always been your passion. Ever since you were given your very first camera at the age of 5 years old- which, in retrospect, was actually a toy camera, you already knew that it is something you would want to pursue.

In the middle of your teacher’s praises with another student, the bell rang. “Looks like we ran out of time, folks. Great job again, Seungmin. Everyone, class dismissed,” he said, jokingly using shooing gestures. “Now hurry up and get out of my face, you delinquents. Lunch time awaits. Go replenish your life force.”

You began gathering your belongings, slinging your precious DSLR camera around your neck. “Outstanding submission, young photographer.” You heard someone say. You turned around to see Seungmin grinning at you.

You snort out a laugh. “Thanks. Great job to you too, Seungmo.” Seungmin was about to respond when your instructor’s voice interrupted.

“Oh. Except Y/n. Please stay a little bit after class, for me, dear.” You and Seungmin shared a glance, nodding for him to go ahead without you. He pats your shoulder, bidding you goodbye. You continued packing your things into your bag. As the rest of the students left the room, you walked towards Mr. Kim’s desk, waiting for his word. “Hello, Y/n.”

“Hello, sir. You wanted to talk to me?”

“Ah yes. I wanted to ask you this,” your instructor paused, sitting on his desk. “How much do you love photography?”

You paused, wanting to convey the exact feelings you wanted to express. “Photography is an escape for me,” you answered. “It’s another form of art that helps people convey the emotions and stories people want to tell. Some people express their emotions through music and lyrics, others through paintings, and others through dance. For me, personally, I’m not all that good in any of those aspects, sir. That is why I work so hard when it comes to this class, and in photography in general.” You unconsciously caressed the camera slung around your neck. “And to me, the stories behind a photo is a lot more intimate in a way that I just can’t explain.”

“Because...this is the only way for you to express yourself? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” You nodded. Mr. Kim hummed in thought. “I see.” He stood up and walked to you, placing his warm hands on your shoulder. “I admire you, kid.”

“You...admire me?” You were confused. The teacher admires his student? Isn’t it usually the other way around?

“Oh yeah. Is that hard to believe?”

“Uhm...Kinda, yeah.”

Mr. Kim laughed mirthfully, amused by your bewilderment and doubt. “Well, believe it. You have spunk. Soul. Your work impart emotions I have never seen from my other students before. You’re passionate about what you do, and I like that. You take digital arts very seriously.”

You laughed awkwardly, the amount of praise your instructor was giving you made you happy. “I do, sir. Kinda a shame not a lot of people even consider it an art.”

“Indeed,” he replied, sitting down on his desk. “Which is why I wanted to give you an impromptu assignment. I want to assign you a story telling type of assignment; to write a story using your photography skills, if that makes sense.”

“Hm, yes? I think I get a jist of what you're trying to tell me.”

“Excellent. I just want to use this to monitor your skills, Y/n. You’re a very talented person, the most talented I’ve ever had even. I just want to see how much of that potential you really have so I can help you blossom it into something greater.”

“Oh,” you draw out, somewhat understanding why he picked you. “I see, sir. I’m honored that you’ve picked me.”

“You should,” he joked. “Now, I want you to photograph the following- write or type this down before you forget.” You hastily whipped out your phone from your pocket. “Ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. I want you to capture the perfect scenes. Give me something that gives you joy. Something that makes you emotional, good or bad or even both, if you can. Something you fear, and finally, something that you love unconditionally. These are all supposed to be different photos, by the way. Got that?”

You finished typing a few seconds later. “And...got it.”

“Awesome!” he smiled. “Just know that I’ll be giving you only 3 months to complete the assignment. I hope that this isn’t too much to ask of you, but I’m sure someone as ambitious as you doesn’t mind, right?”

“Nope, sir! Everything will be a-okay!”

“I’m glad! Now move along and get to the canteen already. I’m sure you’re just as hungry as I am.”

You giggled, making your way to the door. “Thank you sir! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Oh, finally! There you are! We were starving waiting for you!” You rolled your eyes at Minho, who immediately decided to pick on you the second you entered his field of sight.

“Shut up, you could’ve eaten without me you know?”

“Nah, cause what kind of friends would we be if you ate without you?”

“You just want to steal some of my food, don’t you?”

Minho scoffed and went quiet, prompting Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin to laugh. “Caught you red-handed, Hyung,” Hyunjin teased, which backfired immediately causing him to chant an apology after Minho gave him a look.

“So why did you take so long, Y/n?” Jeongin asked.

“Oh, Mr. Kim wanted to give me an extra assignment.”

“Extra assignment?” Seungmin questioned. “What for?”

You shrugged, sitting down. “Uh, to test me? I’m not sure but I honestly think that there’s something more behind it. Not in like a bad way, just to clarify. I mean, he did acknowledge that I’m the best in his class after all.”

Seungmin snorted. “I just know you meant that unironically.” You jokingly blew a raspberry at him.

“Of course Y/n is the best!” Hyunjin stuck his chin up. “Let’s be honest, anyone could be the best if they use me as their model!”

“Hey, Hyunjin? You wanna eat this straw?” Minho threatened, making Hyunjin shut up.

“No...?”

“Good. Get off your high horse, prince charming.”

The three of you laughed. “Poor Hyunjin,” Jeongin sympathized sardonically.

“Hyunjin please stick to dancing and uh- not dying,” you said. “I still need you alive for some more upcoming projects.”

“For me too,” said Seungmin. “I might start using you as my model as well.”

Hyunjin fake cried, “Y’all just like me for my looks!”

“I mean, there’s no denying you are incredibly handsome but we like your personality too, Hyunie, don’t worry,” you cheered him up, then turned to Jeongin. “What about you, Yeni? How’re you holding up now that Lix is gone?”

Jeongin gasped. “I miss him! I’m so lonely now, especially when I have theatre! I feel so awkward now that girls swarm up to me instead- and you know I’m a shy boy!”

“Hey! At least you’re more popular now!” Minho laughed.

“Well, now we have no choice but to remember Felix in our hearts,” Seungmin replied.

“I’m not fucking dead. I just switched majors!” the four of you turned to see Felix pouting at you all.

“Well, you’re dead to me!” Jeongin wailed. “Going from a theatre major to a dance major. How could you?!”

Felix chuckled, sitting down between Seungmin and Jeongin. “I’m sorry! You know I’ll still see you though, buddy!”

“Why don’t you just switch to a regular vocal major next semester, Yeni?” you asked.

“Nah. I originally did want to go for just regular vocal studies but, you know, even if I did accidently sign up for the class, I ended up finding something else I wanna do. Plus, theatre is surprisingly fun! You know, find something new that’ll change your life every day.”

“Yup! Especially since they often collab with the dance majors so we get to see each other a lot!” Hyunjin beamed while Minho nodded in acknowledgment.

“Oh, speaking of dancing,” Minho chimed in. “You guys wanna go to a party I was invited to?”

“No,” Seungmin immediately responded.

“No, not you, I knew you would say no. I meant the others.”

Hyunjin nodded, “I was invited to the same party you’re talking about, so yeah.”

“Can’t,” Felix replied. “I’m still getting used to my new major and I still have a few assignments to catch up on.”

Jeongin hummed in agreement. “Same here. We have a play coming up soon and I’m a lead this time, so I gotta stay home to rehearse as much as I can.”

Minho made a stank face, “Aww. Lame.” He turned to you. “What about you, Y/n? You down?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

“Really?” All 5 boys looked at you incredulously.

“Yeah. I might find some inspiration while I’m there. Besides you know I’ll just be leeching off of Hyunie and Min the whole time.”

Minho and Hyunjin high-fived, cheering a quiet ‘yes!’ Hyunjin giggled. “This is great cause we might need a designated back up driver in case I get drunk and Minho-hyung abandons me!”

“Now that you’ve said that, I might seriously consider that,” Minho grinned. “We’ll pick you up at 8 sharp! Y/n!”

‘8:53pm’ You wanted to go home already.

The boys, true to their word, picked you up at 8:00pm. With little to no traffic- and the fact that Hyunjin actually got ready early so that they wouldn’t be an hour late- the three of you made it to the party around 8:20pm. Even then there were already a lot of people there.

“What the fuck. This house is huge!” you gawked. “Can you even consider this a house still?!”

Hyunjin shrugged. “I’d say this more of a mansion at this point.” All you do mutter a constant chant of ‘what the fuck. what the fuck’ over and over again. “Who’s house is this again, Minho?”

“Changbin’s, remember? Jisung said they’re celebrating in his house,” Minho replied.

“Well this Changbin dude is LOADED,” you mused. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the elegance of the house, which most likely costs more than your entire tuition. “I’d hate to be the one who has to clean up the place.” The boys lead you to the kitchen, helping you avoid the crowd cause, in your words, ‘ew yucky people’. There, they brought you to two men wearing all black, who were hanging out on the island counter. Their names were Changbin- the handsome rich boy who owns the house, the lucky bastard- and Chan- another handsome rich boy with the cutest laugh and dimples, both really sweet and hilarious men, whom you very much enjoyed talking to...

That was the last memory you had before it went downhill.

It took 33 minutes and 4 soju bottles later for Hyunjin to get drunk. Chan and Changbin were back at the booth, manning the song list for the night while Minho was somewhere with some guy in a red beanie doing absolutely nothing, so here you were: stuck babysitting your best friend. “Y/n! Y/n!”

You sighed hearing Hyunjin drunkenly call you. Again. “Yes, Hyunie?”

“I looove you~!” he sang while giving you finger hearts, rocking on the balls of his feet. You sighed again, rubbing your temple.

“Yeah yeah. I know. Love you too.”

“Y/n!” Your left eye twitched. You whipped out your phone from your bra to text Minho.

Me: You bitch.

Help me

Minho ho ho 😼: Hi

No

You glowered. You quickly glanced up to check Hyunjin, who was now sitting on the carpeted floor in front of you, counting his luscious black hair.

Me: He’s-he’s counting his hair… Please get him. It’s like watching a bird repeatedly hitting glass

Minho ho ho 😼: At least he’s not making any trouble now, is he?

He fucking jinxed it. Hyunjin stood up with a shocked look on his face. “What’s wrong, Hyunjin?”

“It’s my favorite song!” he cheered, starting to dance along. You have to admit, even when he’s drunk, he’s still an exceptional dancer. Texting Minho a quick ‘fuck you’. You put your phone back between your breasts to go back to monitoring him, preparing yourself in case you needed to tackle Hyunjin down.

“Heyyy, Y/n!” Minho suddenly draped his arm around your shoulder. Taking your eyes off of Hyunjin, you glared at your lazy, backstabbing friend, shoving his arm off of you.

“Asshole, you’re ten minutes late.”

“Oh I'm not here for Hyunjin. I need your phone.” You look at him audaciously.

“What the- why?”

“My-uh-phone died?” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Your eyes briefly flickered towards Minho’s friend, who, in return, looked down bashfully, red faced. Hm. Weird. You rolled your eyes, nonchalantly reaching into your shirt to get your phone. Minho didn’t even hide his grimace. He cringed, “It’s warm...and wet?”

“Shut up. I’m sweating, okay? And I don’t have any pockets on me.”

Minho nodded, going back to his little friend. Before you could scold him, you heard Hyunjin screaming. You turned around to find him running to the front door. Oh shit. You started pushing people to run after him

You groaned in disgust, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of here. You pushed your way out of the crowd, cringing at the feeling of touching numerous dirty, unknown people. Where in the world is the fucking exit? In the midst of the sweaty, drunken bodies, your eyes met. It was like time had stopped; no one within the vicinity seemed to not have mattered anymore. With just a smirk and a flirty wink from the chubby-cheeked boy in the red beanie, you knew…

...you just had to fuck him

Hold on, Y/n. Your friend might get fucking ran over! You snapped out of it. With a flustered face, you continued shoving your way through, wrangling Minho on the way. “Come on, fucker. You’re helping me. Let’s go,” you sneered while Minho complained.

After 30 minutes of chasing and wrestling, the drunken beast was tamed. The night ended with Minho driving you all home instead while you and Hyunjin cuddled in the backseat against your will. Minho took great pleasure in knowing that he wasn’t Hyunjin’s cuddle buddy, laughing every time you tried unlatching yourself from him, which made the long haired boy cry. Your sadistic friend dropped you home first, apologizing for not being much of a help tonight. “To make it up to you, I have something for you,” he suspiciously said, wiggling his eyebrows, before giving your phone back and driving off.

You relaxed on your bed, happy that you were rid of those dirty, smelly clothes. You grabbed your phone to text Minho. Assuming that the messages app was left on your conversation with him, you started texting, not paying any mind to the fact that the chat was blank.

Me: Thanks for taking me I guess. I didn’t get anything other than unwanted kisses from Hyunjin ew but it’s aight.

Speaking of aight…Do you think you can give me your friend’s number? 👁👁 The one with the red beanie.

Cause sir, not to be nsfw or anything but he is one fine ass man that I’d like to fuck

Almost immediately, the three bubbles appeared. You were surprised that Minho would reply that fast, thinking we was still on the road with Hyunjin. The reply you got, however, made your heart drop.

Min’s hoe: uh...hi? 👋🏻

this is minho’s “fine ass friend with the red beanie” 👁👁

Shitshitshitshit SHIT

[NEXT CHAPTER]

A/n: Sorry no smut in this chapter just plot build up :(( (which i’m a sucker for) and a lot of dialogue. But Trust me. Everything written in this chapter will fall into place with the future chapters. And who know, next chapter might be 🥵

[darthkruge]

Any fic/writer recommendations?

YES OMG! let me rave about some amazingly talented fic writers :)

——

fic/blog recommendations

@chokemeanakin - she writes for anakin!!

COMFORT FICS!! her fics just give you that warm and fuzzy feeling and legit i think she has a fic for literally every scenario. they send me into “yearn for anakin” mode immediately! also, she has a lot of fics about comforting anakin that heal my heart bc ani deserved sm more

here is a link to her masterlist and here is a link to her current, ongoing series called “give me love” which i absolutely adore

@anakinlove - she writes for anakin!!

does this thing where she throws in insane characterization in the middle of her fics and it’s like so fucking good. it’s like these little pieces that make the entire work feel so complete. legit cannot recommend enough!!

here is a link to her masterlist + her angst that made me sob + her longest, recent fic that is stunninggg

@poestardust - she writes for primarily poe dameron + other sw characters + a bunch others in other fandoms, too!!

DIALOGUE. LITERALLY AMAZING!!! her reader is usually super snappy and she gives the reader so much character and personality, i cannot get enough. also her dynamics are so well developed in her fics, on both platonic and romantic sides which i always love!

here is a link to her masterlist + the masterlist for her ongoing poe high school au series “it’s not all roses” bc i just caught up with the chapters out rn and... immaculate

@buckysbeloved - she writes for a lot of marvel + sw characters + some others, too!!

something about her fics that stand out to me is the way she conveys comfort and affection. not only are her descriptions amazing, but she gives reasoning for why the characters seek out/give comfort in the ways they do. and it always makes so. much. sense.

here is a link to her masterlist + her ongoing, current auntie reader x uncle pietro maximoff series/fics. if you watch wandavision, read it right now, you’ll love it!

@beskar-tano - she writes for lots of sw + marvel characters!!

her fics just remind me of home. i can’t describe it any other way... but whenever i want that feeling of home and warmth and love and security, i go to her fics.

here is a link to her masterlist + these bath with ani hc’s + domestic ani hc’s that are both some of my comfort fics <3

@artiza-n - she writes for primarily anakin and bucky barnes but i think she’s open to some other mcu characters, too!

she loves writing protective fics so if you like that, go read her stuff rn! and i just feel very safe when i read them and i loveeee that. she packs in so much softness and love into her words, too <3

here is a link to her masterlist + part 1 and part 2 of her stargazing with anakin fics :)

@obirain - she writes primarily for obi wan + some other sw characters!!

i just finished binging a few of them and woah some of the deepest fics ive ever read tbh. the emotion, the yearning in her writing is something i legit admire. her angst is soft, yet so palpable in a way that is unique to her writing. she is truly very fucking talented.

here is a link to her masterlist + this artist!reader x obi wan fic that is so pure and gorgeous

@starwarsflowers - she writes for anakin and obi wan i think? possibly more sw characters!

her fics are normally shorter but holy fuck- they’re so well written. she did a few “*character* and how they love you” and... so beautiful. truly. you can tell she understands the characters and the differences between them to the absolute fullest extent.

she is a fairly new account so i don’t think she has a masterlist (pls correct me if im wrong!) but here is a link to her recent anakin angst fic that made me cry legit tears

@ddaeng-danvers - she writes for anakin + other sw characters + other fandoms too!

her fics are so fucking sweet!! and she captures padawan!anakin especially well, i still remember reading her fics and the way she mixed his caring with his love with his arrogance with his insecurity all while carrying plot and feelings?! i was floored, it was amazing

here is a link to her masterlist + the padawan!anakin x reader fic i was talking about :)

@saltybreaddream - they write for lots of sw + other fandoms/characters!

omg where do i begin... their fics bring me so much joy and so much painnn!! something unique to their writing is the way they truly commit to taking the audience through the reader’s full emotions, good and bad, especially in their series. after reading their fics, i truly and personally feel like ive gone through what the reader has and that is legit so powerful.

here is a link to their masterlist + this fluff anakin fic they wrote (i requested it hehe) bc it just... comfort fic what can i say

@dexthtoyounglings - she writes for lots of sw characters!

i love her fics because they are just exceptionally in character. her writing made me wanna play fallen order bc her love of cal kestis is legit contagious!! they also just feel really personal, which is super cool. 

here is a link to her masterlist + these hc’s about training with ani that make me so very happy

——

okay!!! if i forgot someone, please know it wasn’t personal and i’m just an idiot! and there are loads of other wonderful fics ive reblogged under the [# fic recs] tag <3

im really hoping i linked the right stuff but if someone notices a link doesn’t work/is wrong feel free to hop in my ask box/drop a comment and let me know and i shall fix it!

also: while none of the fics i directly linked are nsfw, some of these authors write some nsfw fics. they all tag correctly + add warnings at the top of those fics (and i think they all also specify which are nsfw on their masterlist, too). please, please respect them and their rules and, if you’re a minor (like me), do not read or interact with those works.

[stopeatingwhales]

vinyl searching (pt. 1) x graham coxon

okok i'm so sorry i haven't posted in such a long amount of time, but i'm back! (and hopefully for much longer this time haha). this was requested to me a very long time ago and i fell in love with the entire concept immediately - i'm sorry it took so unbelievably long to post it!! i might make a second part to this as i felt like i haven’t properly put the story to an end so look out for that!

Pairing: 1999 graham coxon x reader

Warnings: nothing!

Word count: 3.421

part two

Requested by anon (I’m so sorry this is so late) x

༉‧₊˚✧

Cutting open my last box of new vinyl, I quickly scanned through the contents, figuring out what genres it had consisted of. I discovered a brimmed box of popular 80s vinyls ready to be organised as I allowed my nimble finger to slowly caress every bump that was conveyed whilst it went through every single record. Working in a record shop was often tiring due to the amount of physical labour you have to commit to doing (it really takes a toll on your back sometimes), but it overall was a magical experience, with a lot of perks: free vinyls every once in a while, the ability to snatch a first copy of a highly anticipated album before it got sold out, and ultimately being able to be surrounded by art constantly. It was a genuine blessing to be able to work in a shop that abides and requires your whole passion, because it can never go to waste. What was beautiful about music was that, regardless of personality, fashion or who you genuinely were, everyone can connect to some form of it, whether it be rock, pop, hip/hop, rap, anything. A simple strum of a guitar or mumble of a lyric can manipulate one’s mind so diligently that you become so enthralled by that rhythm to the point it consumes and dictates your entire outlook on existentialism and surroundings of life. You are free to interpret what you like from either lyrics, melodies or even music videos; music is there for one form a bonding with it, not to be told specifically what this or that means, otherwise it loses its enchanting wizardry. Unsurprisingly, you are never able to free yourself from the affiliation that you receive from music, as it is infinite, absolute, limitless without end. Every day, every hour, every minute, there is either a small group, or just one person, attempting to create melodies and cadences that can resonate with people for the rest of their lives - and once they’ve cracked that specific coding, that in which takes overwhelming amounts of dedication, you have created something that is unforgettable to maybe a nation, or a couple, or just one single person. Regardless of the amount, with such ability, you carry the ultimate power that no grade, mark or report card, can ever prove to show. 

Exhaling, I began to stock up the few crates that were beginning to gain empty space in between the few vinyls that embraced them. Attempting to organise them as quickly as I could, I hummed along to the soft music that was escaping out of the radio. Usually, during the day, there wouldn’t be much activity in the store, so having to care for the place by myself wasn’t something out of the ordinary. The shop tended to be more of a second home to me; it never became excessively stressful, and being able to conversate with customers about opinions on specific albums or ‘which album by this or that artist is their best?’ was always an enjoyable part of the day as it simply felt as if it was a random conversation instigated in a bar. Almost as if you’re discoursing with a long lost friend; you gain this sort of connection between specific albums that both mean something to you, and despite the fact that it could mean completely opposing ideas, you were both able to share that connection the music was able to provoke. The shop was moderately small, with 6 rows of 5 crates (two on either side of the wall) aligned neatly, three quarters of a metre separating each in order to allow those to walk around. Having the space quite compact yet overflowing with all sorts of music was what made the space so enthralling. You could have your favourite album of all time sitting there, patiently lingering for your grasp and attraction to seep in, and eventually your purchase - all you seemingly had to do was rummage for it. That in specific is what makes record searching so entertaining, simply scanning through crates of records until you find something that appeals to you. And although you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, if a band has put enough effort in their covers, it would appeal to people more, and therefore allow more sales to seep through. Situated on the end of a high street which had countless amounts of civilians walking into multiple stores each day, only a few customers had come in every so often as it only sold vinyls, and CDs were becoming more of an attraction these days. It didn’t bother me all that much - I definitely preferred having only a few customers in and out every couple of hours in comparison to groups of screaming teenagers begging for the chance that I might have the Californication vinyl by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. 

Once I had completed distributing the vinyls to their designated boxes, I put the large - now empty - cardboard box behind the counter to place in the rubbish after my shift was over. As if on cue, I was met with the light ringing sounds that escaped from the bell at the top of the clear glass door, indicating that someone had arrived in the shop. Swiftly turning my head to figure out who it was, I was met with the sight of Graham Coxon, a usual customer, and an amazing lead guitarist in one of the most known bands in Britain as of this moment due to their latest album titled 13, Blur. News had surfaced that the band were having troubles between each other, and it became apparent that Graham hadn’t played on the album that much. He looked a little scruffy, his short hair untidy but that didn’t make him look horrible, it suited him very much. There were small dark circles forming on his eyes, exposing ideations that he may not have slept, or been able to sleep, which played on my heart strings a little. Although he was a heart-throb of many young girls over the coming years, especially during the height of the Britpop era, he had the demeanor completely contrasting against those projected to the nation by his other bandmates. Graham was quiet, reticent, composed, and it was obvious that the entire Britpop era didn’t work to well for him - being put up against Oasis to fight for the supposed ‘king’ of a genre proved its mental strains on him, to the point he had began drinking to escape his struggles. Me and Graham had become quite good friends over the months that he had been visiting the store, so a shocked face and beg for an autograph was something that by no means would be happening in this given moment. I always felt that because of Graham’s restrictive attitude, it caused him to be quite secluded from maintaining a lot of friendships - although that may just be an assumption. “You alright?” I asked sweetly, putting on a soft smile as I made my way over to the counter. 

“Yeah, fine thanks. You?” He replied, exchanging the same smile which caused my heart to patter in an unsteady rhythm as he paced over to one of the crates, beginning his search for something new. Over time as mine and Graham’s friendship had bloomed, I felt myself forming a sort of tenderness for him. The way he stared at the ground whilst speaking to someone; the way he ruffled through his dark coloured hair ever so often; the way he bit his lip when conflicted against what album he should buy, were all things that I had taken into note after I had caught my eyes staring at him repeatedly, every single time he had entered the shop. And of course, he was immensely good looking, which only added to the long list of things that made me so captivated by his presence. Sometimes he would meet my eyes, to which I would instantly look away, hot flushes forming on both my cheeks over the sudden embarrassment I would receive from being caught admiring someone. Then again, would you not continue to stare at someone who carried an undeniable amount of beauty, that they were so oblivious to understanding that they had?

“I’m alright, we’ve got a couple new 80s records in the crate over there if you’re interested.” I said, exiting the counter as my finger pointed towards the freshly updated crate. Whenever Graham had come into the shop, he tended to spend a good chunk of his time in here, which made me almost addicted to his presence there constantly. We would talk about a lot of things, bridging from best albums of specific decades, to what our favorite candy was. It was a joyful experience, talking to someone that you would have seemingly looked up to for such a long period of time, watching them grow musically, but also physically. In ‘91, all the boys from Blur had charmed themselves with tattered bowl-cuts, which indirectly emphasised their innocent-yet-psychedelic look. Now, his hair was in a much different state, almost completely short yet there was still a small chunk of hair covering his forehead. I much preferred this look of his, though. He looked mature, and pairing with his personality that I have come to be somewhat close with, it boosted his attractiveness. Whenever he left the shop, I would be accompanied with such boredom and sadness right afterwards. I seemingly wanted him here, all the time, adding to the fondness that I had formed for him. 

Shifting his gaze to interlock eyes with mine, I felt my heart begin to form into the same unsteady pattern it composed when he had reciprocated my smile. “I’ve pretty much listened to everything that had appealed to me from that decade, it was when I was growing up you know.” He chuckled, which caused my cheeks to heat up a little at the sound of his lovely laugh that I sadly didn’t hear so often than I would’ve liked. 

“Well, what have you been coming in here to search for then?” I questioned, slowly making my way to stand next to him as I analysed his actions, his index finger grazing over each album name, mirroring how I was earlier when scanning through the vinyls I needed to unpack. I was able to gain a whiff of his aroma standing near him - he smelled like cigarettes and cologne, a combination that when mixed would sound quite disgusting, but they somehow complimented each other. I attempted to edge my body closer to his, to take a greater look at what exactly he was doing, without it coming across as suggestive. I would have no courage to do something that evocative, anyways.

I allowed my arm to rest on the other crates as my hand held my face. I felt Graham’s stare switch from the vinyls to quickly take a look at me, noticing my new positioning. A very short silence was shared between the pair of us, almost as if Graham was trying to find the right words to say, whilst the music from the radio had continued on playing. “Not too sure, just want to find something to listen to,” he began, slowly trailing off his sentence as he pulled a record out and examined its cover. “I’ve worn out all of my records at this point so I’m practically desperate for something else.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place!” I grinned, making eye contact with him for a short second, before switching to look at the album he was looking at. He was holding up Pavement’s 1997 album, Brighten the Corners. The cover was quite colourful and artsy, almost as if it had come straight out of a cartoon. “Play that on the record player, see if you like it.” 

Moving over to the record player that was situated by the cashier, he took the record out of its sleeve, placing it on the turntable as carefully as possible. I turned my body around to watch him place the stylus on the grooves of the record, my body fixated in place. Every so often I would glance at the walls of the shop, which were decorated messily with band posters and tour-dates of multiple bands that you were able to purchase in-store. Although it was untidy, it added to the sensation of music; you don’t need to be the smartest, the most organised, the most put-together person in order to make an amazing album. All you could have is three chords that you are unaware of the names, and you’ve got a song. The Sex Pistols done it, and the message they portrayed was that no matter who you are, you can make music. It’s universal. Sometimes my gaze shifted to look through the window that portrayed the cars passing down the road, with the occasional person walking past. The comparison of outside, where it professedly looked very dull and unhappy, and the liveliness of such a small shop, is what proves the power of music. Life is tedious without some colour in it. Regardless of anything though, my eyes would always trail back to Graham, whose back was resting on the counter where the cashier was, intently listening to the music draining from the turntable. The sweet sounds of pop songs that were once splashing out of the radio were now inaudible; the record player emitted music that was much louder, so it was now the only thing you could hear inside the closed space. By the look of Graham’s expression it seemed that his desperation to listen to something new was much needed than I had come to expect; it was almost as if he depended on the new music to soothe him away from whatever thoughts, or distressing moods that were battling his mind. 

Once the song had ended, I decided to ask for his opinion on it. “What do you think?” 

I watched him intently as his eyes fluttered back open, examining his facial features slightly. Our eyes had met, and they stayed fixed in place as I began admiring his honey-like orbs. “It was good, might as well get it to hear the rest of the album.” He answered, sighing slightly at the end of his sentence. It was quite obvious, to me, that he had been going through something that he wasn’t able to quite mention or bring up to anyone - especially me, as I am only just a worker he knew quite well inside a record shop. It enthralled me slightly, how mysterious he was, although he was completely projected to the limelight of Top Of The Pops and many interviews countless amounts of times over the years. The thought of asking him how he was always played in my mind; his reaction however, frightened me to the point of me avoiding the topic. I didn’t want to come across as patronising, I simply cared for him, for someone I didn’t even know all that well, too much. 

Graham placed the vinyl back into its sleeve gently, and then made his way to where he previously stood - next to me. Although our bodies weren’t touching, I felt as if my skin was entering the gates of hell due to the amount of heat that had been emitting from my skin. He began looking through the same vinyl crate that he did before, whilst my eyes inspected his hands, allowing my thoughts to randomly drift on the feeling of his hand in mine. How soft his palm may feel, how warm it would be - like a hug from a loved one when you needed it most, their touch, caressing, having so much impact that it completely changes your entire mood for a short period of time. How they could perfectly merge together, his and mine. Or not, though either way it would release a sensation of my teenage-girl like self, squealing inside over the fact that a boy that I've seemingly fallen for is in grasp of my palm. I doubt that he was feeling the same things that I was, but in moments so silent but loud, exactly like this one, it was all I could muster a thought about. “You have lovely eyes.” 

I noticed Graham pause in his movements once those accidental words slipped off my mouth. Mentally cursing myself, my gaze was fixed on him. The air was a little tense, the pit in my stomach completely empty from my unneeded slip-up of words. “Thank you…” He replied, shifting his gaze over to look at me. He seemed taken aback to my sudden compliment, which made me feel a little embarrassed, causing my cheeks to heat up slightly. “Yours are lovely too.”  

My heart fluttered slightly towards the compliment he passed back to me, my lip sinking into my teeth in anticipation towards where the conversation was headed. Graham’s awkward self carried on searching through vinyls, and began walking over to different crates in search for something else. I moved to position myself behind the till, where my gaze followed him as he preoccupied himself in the cover art of multiple vinyls he had taken out, admiring them or looking perplexed by them, then putting them back into their original place if they weren’t appealing to him. I began humming along to the new song that began playing on the radio, as I played with my fingers, deciding on forwarding the conversation to something else. “What are you up to this week?”

“Nothing much… I’m probably going to stay at home. There’s not much to do these days.” He answered, his eyes glued onto the vinyls he had now found. My heart sank after those words left his mouth, almost in pity for him - he didn’t seem like he was fully okay, then again no one is, but it came across as if he had been struggling quite a bit mentally and that he needed someone to be there for him, yet he didn’t know exactly how to ask for it, or maybe he felt cowardly to ask. He began to walk over to the cashier, instigating the fact that he had found the records he’s decided to buy - filling my stomach up in an unusual mix of sadness and anticipation. I wanted him to be here, all the time. 

“So I assume you’re not doing anything tonight?” I questioned, taking the vinyls from his hand in order to scan them and place in a bag. I avoided his stare whilst asking, though I could feel the burn of his eyes intently staring at every move I made. 

“Yeah, the most I’m going to do is probably listen to these vinyls at home.”

With the little amount of courage I had spared inside, I decided to take a big leap of my conscience and ask him a question he’s undoubtedly been asked so many times before. Lifting my gaze to connect eyes with him after I had finished neatly placing everything into a plastic bag, I handed the vinyls to him. “Do you want to go out tonight?”

“I mean I’d like to go out.” He responded, completely oblivious to what I was egging towards, which only bubbled the apprehension inside me even more. I began to second guess the idea of me asking him out to do something together.

“Graham.” I sternly responded, a hint of annoyance laced between my voice when I spoke his name. 

“What?” 

Sighing to myself, I realised that his oblivion wasn’t on purpose, which brought the same feeling of a sinking heart in my body. I came to realise that Graham had been so isolated, so deserted from society, that he was completely blind towards someone taking an interest in him. Inhaling sharply, I asked, with my sweetest smile. “Would you like to go out with me tonight?” 

Graham’s expression had completely changed from his delirium to shocked. His eyes widened, a reddish tint forming on his cheeks as his lip sank into his bottom teeth. A couple seconds were shared between us staring closely at each other's eyes, as I tried to decipher what was going through his mind. “I- Uh- Yes, sure.” 

The little stutter that rolled off his tongue warmed my heart as the beam on my face began to widen. I noticed a small smile starting to curve at the bottom of his lip. “That’ll be fifty pounds, please.”

[rockmiyabideusexmachina]

2021 Megaman Valentine’s Day Contest Results

Among the many things this past year or so has tested us with is delays, and I apologize that this year’s Valentine’s Day contest results are included in that. I certainly did not plan on this taking until March to get completed, and I am sincerely sorry to have kept you all waiting. But hopefully it is all worth the wait!!

Thanks once again to every single one of you who participated! I will be contacting the winners soon enough. Work will probably keep me from replying to everyone immediately, but I will send a message about prizes hopefully within 24 hours.

Also, my thanks to @subzeroiceskater​ for helping out with judging this year. Not to mention the promo pic above and other assorted bonuses that always bring me a big smile. I might say this seemingly every year, but you all made judging this VERY hard. It might have something to do with the themes as well, but I think both of us flipped and rearranged our rankings repeatedly, and even then, it was hard to decide on who would place. XD Each one of you did an amazing job!

After the break, you’ll see the winners for both categories, along with all of the entries. Raffle prize winners will be noted below by their alias, as well.

Category 1: Kiss From a Rosered (Talent)

For our talent category this year, the theme focused on your favorite Megaman characters giving roses to their special someone, along with incorporating the symbolism of specific rose colors within the piece. That rose color was also to be the predominant color within the piece, to the best of your ability.

A grand total of 9 entries were submitted for this category. You can see the full gallery of all entries at full-size [HERE]. Each entrant’s name will also link to their individual pieces at full-size.

1.) Sapphire: *$100 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said:

Oooooh, this is so cute and pink! Piiink~ Ehem. I love the depth, angle, and color grading of these—notice how Roll’s black linework is at the forefront of the pic but colors mixes with the lights and colors from the sun further along the pic. There’s a lot to admire about how everything easy to read with so many competing elements like the similar hues and bright lighting.

Pink roses usually mean a gentler sort of love but did you know that different shades of pink could signify different things as well? A darker shade may mean gratitude; medium shade could be about a first love or congratulations while a light shade may mean admiration. Tron holding a singular pink rose with varying shades of pink while literally tripping over herself and a Servbot could only mean—that this is hilarious.

Miyabi said:

From a technical standpoint, I think your piece clearly felt the most polished, crisp and virtually professional of the bunch. But more than that, I felt it also best gave off the vibe of the rose color dominating the piece, but in very subtle, beautiful ways. Where as the pink sunset causes many of the normally white areas, like Roll’s collar/sleeves, parts of Gustaff, and more, to ooze that pink lighting. Even with her klutziness, you still also portrayed the feeling of sweetness, admiration and appreciation that a pink rose conveys. Just so pretty, calming, and joyful to look at!

2.) Forceway: *$75 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said:

There is a sort of gentle irony with how Skull Man and Shade Man are both robots modeled after horror symbols—skulls and vampires—but are here surrounded by a soft sea of pink roses. The dark night is often depicted as a primal fear because it hides our deepest fears but here—illuminated by the bright shining moon—the night is transformed into a scene of love—perhaps devotion, with how Shade is gently cradling Skull, as well with the church bell in the background. This is a very tender piece mixing the shadows and the sweet.

Miyabi said:

I know most digital art programs have the brushes and shortcuts to make detailing things like roses a lot easier, but your bed of roses certainly look all done by hand on your own, and that alone impressed me a ton! Based off of the Ariga Megamix tale of Skull Man not feeling appreciated or having a family after Cossack stored him away, I felt the pink roses and Shade showing him that he is actually appreciated here was a fantastic conceptual choice. Purples in the sky and Shade’s body split the canvas and contrast with the pink well, including how you used the pink for some of the stars in the sky. Beautiful job!

3.) DigitallyFanged: *$50 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said:

Yellow is a bright color, often evoking the sun, warmth, light, joy and hope. With roses, its positive connotations continue with possible meanings of friendship, care and remembrance. Tabby’s piece seems to evoke the last one the strongest—with Zero, broken and forgotten in a lab—but, not entirely, because of a bond that is stronger than apparent death lives on—even if in this moment, it’s only a memory. Even the roses are not real—just projections of what was once alive. This is fantastic use contrast with the dark, moody blues against the vivid, almost defiant yellows; and the repeated little motifs such as X crying and the water drops falling all over Zero. It stands out from the rest of happy entries with how sad it is but it still manages to be hopeful.

Miyabi said:

Zero’s blonde locks certainly are an iconic part of his design, so playing off of that and focusing on yellow as your rose color fit perfectly. You definitely made this a very emotive piece considering technically, neither of these two are even alive and moving here! As mentioned above, the little details like the water droplets balancing against Cyber Elf X’s tears, the digital lines to make it appear like X has created the cyber-roses for Zero, and Zero’s battle damage caught my eye immediately. You certainly captured the yellow rose symbolism of remembrance and friendly affection beautifully!!

And the rest of the wonderful entries, in alphabetical order by alias:

AbilityField: [Page 1] [Page 2] [Page 3] [Page 4]

*Raffle Prize Winner* Captain N Mega Man Cel

Subzeroiceskater said:

It’s so poetic about how this contest theme is about how the language of flowers is used to communicate feelings beyond just using words; and so, the comic is completely silent, relying on actions to convey its meaning. Yellow roses could mean friendship, care and affection; and it’s shown wonderfully with how Iris and Lan are so thoughtful with one another. It’s so cute how Iris missed Lan only because he was already out buying roses for her. Given how hard comics are to make and how this is fully colored, I really wanted to give this first place—however I felt the color usage of yellow could have been stronger, especially with the last page, where it would have had the most impact. I had to squint and zoom out to even see if the lighting had changed. Still, it’s such a very warm and lovely work.

Miyabi said:

I always appreciate the effort people put into making multiple-page comics for these contests, and this is no exception! Even without dialogue, you did a great job at conveying your story through your art in each panel and it was easily understandable. Another utilizing the yellow rose, I certainly felt the friendship and warmth in your tale. As Subzero mentioned, the only thing keeping it from placing was that the yellow colors weren’t as dominant in other areas of the pic, besides the panel by Sal. Still, your coloring was very crisp and vibrant throughout each page, and it was an awesome submission!

aw-colorcat:

Subzeroiceskater said:

With the red for Metal Man, orange for Cut Man and the explosion of yellow flowers, that’s the trifecta of warm colors. Yellow roses could mean delight and this pic is delightful in all ways. Cut looks so cute practically swimming in the sea of flowers and greenery, as does Metal’s adorable expression—which is a feat since he only shows his eyes. I also really like the juxtaposition and balance of this piece from: the rust-brown car against green-yellow nature running wild, and Metal holding a bouquet meanwhile Cut’s covered with plants. It makes me want to get some fresh air myself!

Miyabi said:

Cut Man looks grateful for being able to ride in that pickup bed of flowers, and I have a feeling the two of them had a wonderful time just snipping and sawing away at all the stems to gather them all. XD Love how the yellow and oranges play off of both character’s color schemes nicely. The subtlety of the yellow flowers in the foreground, along with the sun and tree in the background all play off each other well, too! Just an absolutely cute pic!

Dark-Dullahan: 

Subzeroiceskater said: 

What a fantastic composition. Dark-Dullahan does away with most color, leaving the colors of the mixed-bouquet roses as the main focal point. Classic red for romance, a gentler pink for affection, mixed yellow roses to signify caring and probably so much more—seems like Nana can’t contain her feelings for Massimo. I love how the close up of the bouquet doesn’t just form a kind of heart at the top but serves as the divider between the two, like a diptych. With such a wonderful offering, Massimo would surely accept her feelings.

Miyabi said: 

As you brought to my attention, your mixed bouquet had a few different meanings, such as the dark pink representing thanks to Massimo for saving Nana from Silver Horn, and the red tips on the yellow roses to symbolize falling in love. Certainly got those vibes from her shy demeanor, as she sheepishly tries to hand them to him. Also agree with Subzero that the line from the bouquet nicely works as a way to separate them uniquely with the background. Sorry you weren’t able to complete it as fully as you had hoped, but the concept behind it certainly was strong!

Donnie:

Donnie also sent in an alternate version made during the creative process, in a different artistic style, that I still feel needs to be shared, as well. Fun to see the contrast, yet still have the same feeling and mood to the piece. 

Subzeroiceskater said:

Oh, I adore this one. It reminds me of a movie poster with the tagline. I love the extra PINK flourishes of the letterings like with the Mega Man logo color change and cute pixelated font and heart. Both Rock and Roll’s expressions are so cute, too—with his more subdued smile contrasted with her exuberant grin. Much like how the pink rose could mean many things like thoughtfulness, cheer or as a show of appreciation, this piece is positively sparkling with affection, hearts and all. It’s clever how the sunset is giving the picture an overall pinkish-red hue while having the yellow light as an outline. A darling piece.

Miyabi said:

With pink roses again, I truly liked the additional hue adjustments where you can feel the warmth and see the lighter pink mixed into their skintone, or areas normally of white - from eyes to teeth to the Megaman logo - that have taken on the pink in it’s place. With the painterly watercolor style you used, it all blends in nicely. Even in your earlier version, I feel you brought a strong game with the hues, but toned down the red from that version to make it feel much stronger towards pink, with a tighter crop of your canvas. It was fun to see how it evolved, and strengthened your piece in doing so! Fabulous job!

DragonMarquise:

Subzeroiceskater said:

No better way to show how madly in love you are than a bouquet of roses that run the gamut of—I can’t call these warm colors because these passions are running hot. Orange seems to be the dominant color here—which in roses could symbolize a love that’s passionate, fierce and deep. It’s also expressed nicely with the two lovers embracing, engaged in mid kiss, their bodies also forming a subtle heart shape, to emphasize the flurry of hearts around them. The bouquet is not just orange roses, however, but a mixed bouquet of the classic romantic red and the more affectionate pink—it’s a piece that’s bursting with all degrees of love.

Miyabi said:

You also certainly mastered the limited color pallette challenge as you tackled this piece! Orange, the color of passion, is certainly felt in their deep kiss and embrace. I too caught the heart shape their heads essentially form, which is then further enforced with the heart of hearts behind them. I thought that concept was pulled off very well. Perfect for the fiery intensity of Match, this turned out to be a very hot pic!

Mattasaurs:

Subzeroiceskater said:

This one has a very clever framing (eh? EH?). The color white is often associated with purity, innocence and hope, and with white roses—weddings and marriage. Sonia dons the classic white wedding dress which has a très élégante design—and the little Lyra on her belt is very cute. The pink background is also very romantic and a nice way to tie in with her theme colors. I dig the lovey-dovey feel of Geo doing the classic bridal carry while clasping a single white rose...but seeing the thorns, I think he better watch his hand!

Miyabi said:

For a theme emphasizing color within the pic, I salute you for taking the biggest challenge in choosing white. In many ways, it could have been the hardest to keep as a predominant color, but still make the pic interesting and visually appealing. Choosing to have the petals all around the frame, with the bouquet nearby was a clever touch. With white often used for weddings and new beginnings, I think the concept of your piece worked just right, where it was subtle, but still incorporated enough other color to give the piece some life. 

Category 2: Kawaii-rimi (Humor)

For our humor category this year, the theme focused on your favorite Megaman character gifting the plush form of another Megaman character to their crush, instantly created by a ninja-like character, to play off of the Kawarimi concept from the EXE series. 

With just 3 entries in our humor category this time around, every entrant placed. You can see the full gallery of all entries at full-size [HERE].  Each entrant’s name will also link to their individual pieces at full-size.

1.) Mattasaurs: *$100 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said: 

Y’know how blocks of wood are sometimes used by ninjas when they do that whole body switching thing? I think it’s clever how this pic has Sal—Woodman.exe’s operator—conjuring the doll. Everything about the pic is so fun and colorful: from Sal’s mischievous grin of accomplishment, Miyu being completely shocked by her chibi doppelganger (check out that body language!) and Masa’s confused expression.

Miyabi said:

Yes, while to some, Sal might not be the first one they think of when they think ninja in the Megaman Universe, but I certainly thought she still fits the bill in her design. Usually we don’t see this much emotion or shock out of Miyu, so seeing her torque her body, taken aback at a doll of herself, is amusing in it’s own right. Meanwhile, nothing fazes Masa. And a bit of randomness: oh man, seeing Masa’s head in profile, with his bandana...wow, I never realized how much his head shape with the bandana looks like a fish’s. I can’t unsee it now. Anyways, I also agree that the color, polish, and fun vibe made this a worthy winner!

2.) ColeManX: *$75 prize*

*Raffle Prize Winner* Captain N Cutsman Cel

Subzeroiceskater said:

E-Eyes? What did you mean by that, Mr. RT-55J?  Although judging from the sparkle on those booblights… I understand, Cinnamon—if that happened to me, I’d be making asides to the camera, like I was in “The Office”, too. Cinnamon’s enthusiastic smile with this whole bizarre scene really sells it for me but shoutout to Marino’s smug satisfaction in the background.

Miyabi said:

🎵 I kind of liked it your way How you shyly placed your eyes on me Did you ever know That I had mine on you?🎵

RT says it only has eyes for Cinny right now, but it’s also known to be a little grabby hands, so I don’t know if I’d fully trust it...but good thing this is just a plush version. Time for the tables to be turned, and Cinnamon to get her claws and paws on it, instead. Very cute, although after the DiVE V-Day event, we all know this is a ruse and your pal boobeyes only belongs to the Ferham Fanclub. XD

3.) Ronin-Apprentice: *$50 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said: 

This whole comic is so sweet and fluffy, nya!  ~(=^‥^)ノ☆ It’s adorable how Proto brings up his gift first and the surprise is how Shadow handmade his gift. The little cat-eared Blues design is so darling--almost as cute as him fussing how totally NOT a cat he is. “Did you steal my cat.” had me snorting. Now I’m wondering where Tango went off to…

Miyabi said:

FU-SION-HA! 

Aside from getting his own Super Adaptor, this is probably the closest we’ve got to seeing Tango and Blues merged as one. LOL I’m sure that plush would have a ton of fans wishing it actually existed. The panels where Blues embarrassingly hides behind his scarf and gets pet like a cat had me laughing! Very cute and adorable comic, that certainly had the most depth in terms of the theme of this category!

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Ngl, the Nadia anons and fic have me in a Nadia mood. Can we get a fic where MC and Vivienne aren't dating, but Nadia thought they were and finds out they aren't, so she tries winning over MC, and MC is both wary and slightly charmed, despite the entire Poppy being exasperated, and finally agrees to a date? It could be a follow on from the other fic or it's own thing. (If you receive this ask twice please ignore the 2nd one, tumblr gave a bad request message for the first so idk if you got it)

Pairing with: “Can we have a Nadia stalking mc instead of Vivienne? Getting intrigued by the mc and then wanting her to join her instead“

...

Written by @an-awkward-ghost

“I’m a bit confused.”

The voice is firm, perhaps even a bit harsh, and it has Nadia instantly on edge. Were it not for the small, almost imperceptible hint of playfulness, the blond thief would have already brandished her knife. Instead, she just freezes there, wide eyed, letting the voice wash over her and awaken a torrent of feelings she had buried deep within her. Emotions only brought problems, only made her pick all the wrong options. She couldn’t trust something as fickle as that. She knew that. Well. At least she thought she knew that.

Yet here she is, eagerly spinning around after a moment’s hesitation, seeking the owner of that sweet, sweet, harsh voice.

It had only been a month, but Karina seemed to have changed drastically. Gone was the insecure little girl she had been, wrapped in Vivienne’s shadow. Now she stood strong and unflinching just a few meters away, shoulders thrown back in attempt to look taller, brown eyes calculating Nadia’s every movement like a predator. One wrong move, and it was over.

Nadia didn’t want to underestimate a woman like Karina ever again.

“You said you weren’t after Vivienne anymore… but here you are anyway.” Her eyes flickered up and down, her expression softening with a small, unconcerned smile. It didn’t look cocky, nor did it look happy. It was teasing, meant to irritate Nadia to her very core, but she found she couldn’t quite look at it without feeling butterflies rise. It was unfair. Nadia pursed her lips and looked away, and Karina continued. “What am I supposed to think?”

She felt like she had been put under a microscope, left there to be picked apart by the artist.

“It… was a coincidence?” She finally said, voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil of emotions she was experiencing.

Karina hummed. “Yeah, I don’t really believe in coincidences and that only leaves me with plenty of creepy alternatives. You might want to explain yourself.”

“I didn’t know you would come here next.” Nadia forced herself to meet her gaze, half-wishing she could just burn the butterflies in her stomach so she could actually concentrate, half-berating herself for not realizing where her true affections laid sooner. “I had planned to stay away from you – that’s why I decided to come here in the first place.”

“Sure. Awfully close to our next target, too. How convenient.”

Frustration could not begin to convey what Nadia was feeling right now. Hot-headed indignation, barely held at bay by the cold, murky feeling of rejection. Her hands closed into fists, then opened, then closed again in quick motions, as if she were trying to grasp her conflicting feelings and bury them even deeper.

“I didn’t even know you had a target here.” She spat at last, scowling. “Look, I won’t get in between your relationship with Vivienne anymore. I won’t even stay here, if it bothers you so much. I could probably pick the next flight to–”

“My relationship?”

“Yes, your– why are you looking at me like that?” It takes a few seconds. Nadia has never had so many conflicting feelings in her entire life. There’s the bubbly, blissful hope that lifts her spirits and spreads over her whole body like a blanket of pure joy, warm and fuzzy, but there’s also the sinking, bitter sensation of a misunderstanding. Of not reading the room correctly, despite that being Nadia’s forte. “You aren’t dating Vivienne.”

Karina’s smile seems a little less detached, bordering on genuine. “It’s true I had some interest in her at the beginning, but I quickly realized a relationship wasn’t the best choice. Hey, maybe we should start a club or something! God knows there’s enough people interested in Vivienne to get plenty of members.”

“Then… but she didn’t– you were jealous!”

“Yeah, I can’t deny that.” A sheepish shrug. “But in my defense, who wouldn’t be?”

Nadia takes a deep breath. “You were jealous.” She repeats, more to herself than to Karina. She’s trying to make this whole situation make sense. “Of Vivienne…? Because I was giving attention to her.”

A light blush that might be Nadia’s imagination appears on Karina’s face. “I think we might be getting off topic here. You, uh, you said you were going to leave?”

“I was, but there’s no way I’m doing that after this revelation.” After a month of aimlessly swimming through the situation, Nadia finally thinks she might have found her footing. She smirks. “You are interested in me.”

Karina looks her up and down again, wary. “Was. You know, before I found out you are an obsessive asshole.”

“Believe me, I’ve learnt my lesson. I’ll respect your boundaries.” She takes a few steps closer. Karina seems rooted in place, body angling towards the end of the alleyway they are in, but making no move to leave. “But I can’t let this chance slip me by.”

“Chance? So because you couldn’t get Vivienne, now you are after me?”

“Ah…” Nadia hesitates, all confidence wavering. The other woman narrows her eyes. “No. No, I…” The words were right there. Somehow, they wouldn’t come out.

“You…?

“It’s just. I didn’t– I…” She lets out a small grunt of frustration. “I wasn’t interested in her. I thought I was. Turns out she wasn’t the one that interested me at all.”

“But then… why did you…” A beat, and Karina’s eyes widen. “You were projecting your feelings onto her.”

“Yes. And now that it’s come out into the open that you are also interested-”

“Was. I was interested. Past tense. Nadia, I’m saying no. Can you respect that, please?”

Nadia pursed her lips, feeling her good mood dissipate. This was what had ruined her chances in the past, her near violent approach. She backed the subject of her interest to a corner where they would have no other choice but to pick her, because the alternative was even worse.

That’s not something she wanted for Karina. Whatever this affection was, it felt far more fragile and precious than any of her other obsessions.  Far more real. Worth treasuring. Nadia wasn’t sure she could even call this feeling ‘an obsession’.

She couldn’t force something like this. She didn’t want to.

“I understand.” She said. “And you have every right to say no, but I want you to give me a chance to prove that I’ve changed.” That had been mostly thanks to the sheer number of sleepless nights she had had, just thinking about everything. Her ideology and how it clashed with the Poppy’s, mainly. That was why she had scrapped the video her crew was working on, why she had put on hold the heists they had planned.

She knew she still had a long way to go, but she was willing and raging to go. A change was long overdue.

“Just one chance. I won’t let it go to waste.”

…

“It was creepy enough when it was Vivienne, but I didn’t expect to endure this type of thing again.” Zoe holds up a gift for everyone to see with a small grimace. Jett takes one look at it and whistles in appreciation.

“Those are some quality paints, alright. You’re going to have a field day with those, Kar.”

“Who said I was going to use them?”

“So I can throw them out or-”

“What? No! Zoe, don’t!”

Vivienne smirks from where she is curled up on the couch, amusement crinkling in her eyes. “Now this is a development, thought I can’t say it was unexpected.” The mirth dies down soon enough. To anyone else she’d look composed, detached, but the members of the Poppy know her well enough to detect the hint of worry clouding her expression. “How do you feel about this, Karina? Would you like us to handle it?”

“I can think of a few ways that might be effective.” Leon adds, from the other side of the room, a frown firmly in place.

“She just can’t give up, can she?” Remy huffs. “First Vivienne, now Karina… When do you think you’ll have your turn, Zoe?”

Zoe gives him a dry look. “Never. Not if I can help it. But seriously Kar, what do we do? If I have to see another gift from that woman, I swear-”

“No, no, it’s okay.”

The living room is always alive with noise when the Poppy gathers in it, sharing laughs, the atmosphere light and welcoming. All of that skids to an abrupt stop as soon as Karina has finished talking. Silence reigns so perfectly it becomes deafening, all eyes on her, searching, prodding, as if they were trying to find out when Karina had been replaced by some kind of impostor.

The artist laughs. “Seriously. Just give me at least a week with her. I want to see something.”

“Something?” Nikolai repeats, one of his eyebrows so far up into his hairline Karina is almost expecting it to fall off. “Not that I don’t trust your judgement, but you must remember who we are talking about. One week is plenty of time for her to kill you.”

“One week.” Karina says again, resolute. “That is all I ask.”

The rest of the Poppy sputters in a chaos of half-shouted reasons why this won’t work, and half-muttered inquiries regarding Karina’s sanity. She takes it all in stride, mostly because they aren’t telling her anything new, something she hadn’t considered before making the decision. Curiosity kills the cat, some say, and Karina is definitely curious to see how much Nadia has allegedly changed.

…

“I’m definitely surprised this time.”

Nadia gives her a curious look, her smirk firmly in place. The confidence she exudes is something that had interested Karina from the moment she had first seen the blonde woman, an unhinged storm worth admiring from a distance.

She had certainly mellowed out. There was still a dangerous undertone to her every action, but it was more controlled. Karina wasn’t naive, she knew Nadia could still kill people if she wanted to, probably with no remorse whatsoever, but she had the impression she would at least consider other alternatives before rushing in for the kill. Nadia hadn’t been lying – she had changed.

Or she was a really good actress, but Karina was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“I didn’t think you’d have such a drastic change in just one month.”

Blue eyes shimmer with delight. Nadia practically preens.

“I’m full of surprises. You’d better get used to that.”

“Good! That just means I won’t get bored anytime soon.”

“I’ll ensure you don’t.”

The chill of the night makes for an excellent excuse to get closer, not that Nadia really needs it. She moves closer to her in one smooth movement, but Karina catches the look the blonde woman sends her way, making sure she’s not overstepping any boundaries. It’s a sweet gesture, something she wouldn’t have expected from Nadia in the past.

They’re on top of the Eiffel Tower. Leon is somewhere near, out of sight, and Karina can just imagine him staring at them from wherever he is with a concerned frown, ready to intervene at any sign of trouble. But nothing of the sort happens. Instead, Karina stands there, transfixed by the anecdotes Nadia is telling her, eyes tracking her every movement with a shocked wonder she hadn’t felt before. There had been a spark with Vivienne, all those months ago, when the Poppy had recruited her, but nothing like the emotion she feels now. There’s a raging fire somewhere in her soul she had ignored until now, emboldened by Nadia’s smile, by her touch, by her mere presence.

And when the date comes to an end, and she stands inches away, blue eyes searching hers for permission?

Karina can only nod, eyes fluttering shut as Nadia slips one finger under her chin, directing her face up, expression softening as she leans in.

She feels like she is on cloud nine.

[mrs-hatake]

I totally forgot... if you needed fandoms—I've also watched Haikyuu, Jujutsu Kaises, BNHA, so any of those is okay 😂😅

So sorry!

-✨Anon

So can I be your ✨Anon? 🥺 and I would like to ask for a matchup (I don't know how it works so if I did it wrong tell me 😅) I'm 5'5-6, pretty pale with freckles and bright blue eyes and chest length brown hair with natural red and blond highlights. I'm on the heavy side and insecure 👉👈 I don't go out much, and more of an introvert unless someone gets me out of my shell and then I'm really sociable. I can get a bit clingy since I lack affection and attention. I'm artistic, wanting to be a storyboard artist (I could draw fanart for you), I love to read and also in love with singing as I want music to be my minor. Uhhh... I love to wear oversized hoodies/sweaters aaaannndd.... Ye! Btw, congrats on 1.6k(or being very close depending)--you got a new follower from this anon (just followed right before giving this ask) 😉

Requests: CLOSED

hi anon, thank you following and sending a request🥰

i really love your personality! you seem like a fun person to be around :D

okay...i ship you with the following people

Haikyuu:

Bokuto!

okay, hear me out. bokuto is the kind of man that doesn’t care much about appearances. if you have a personality that he admires then he’s hooked. HOWEVER, bokuto can acknowledge that sometimes, his girlfriend’s insecurities can upset her and he’ll always try to comfort her as much as he can with reassuring words. bokuto would remind you DAILY how beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have you.

i think bokuto is the perfect match for you becuase he’ll be able to get you out of your shell and be more extroverted. it’ll take a lot of work and it’s always done in moderations but, soon, you’ll enjoy going to places with large crowds for an entire day!

but, bokuto can also appreciate a lazy day at home. he’d have his head on your lap while you read your book. he’d sometimes ask you to read your book out loud just so that he could relate to you more. he’d even ask about your thoughts and opinions on the book, your favorite characters, your most hated characters, plot flaws, etc. and its just so nice seeing you so passionate about something you love.

BOKUTO ALSO WANTS YOU TO SING HIM TO SLEEP!! he just loves your voice so so SO MUCH and he claims that he ALWAYS has a good night’s sleep when he falls asleep to the sound of your voice. it calms and soothes him and you sometimes doubt that you have a such an ability but it warms your heart knowing that bokuto feels that way 🥰

Jujutsu Kaisen:

Nanami!!

Just like bokuto, i doubt he would care about your appearances. maybe you thought he’d judge you for having dyed and brightly colored hair but he honestly likes it. maybe because it’s you or maybe because the colors always look nice but he knows that he likes it.

nanami is a busy man so being with an introvert is ideal for him. he actually prefers staying at home with you rather than going out to have fun.

expect some soft music playing in the background and some fancy snacks he picked up from the bakery on the table while he works on some emails and you read your book or work on your latest artwork.

don’t be surprised if nanami gave a few pointers about your piece of art. it’s not in harsh criticism but maybe he’d suggest a different color here or add a little bit of detail there? you appreciate that he is so willing to help and actively engage in your interests. his thoughts and opinions are always so valuable. which is why you sometimes ask him about a new musical piece you’re working on. nanami isn’t musically gifted but his attention to detail helps immensely and he can understand what you’re trying to convey through your music.

nanami would shower you with attention in subtle ways. a small smile here, a gentle pat there. that’s his way of saying that he loves you or you did good. he’s just too shy and embarrassed to voice his words out but with time he’ll be more vocal ❤️

[claudia1829things]

"LITTLE WOMEN" (2017) Review

"LITTLE WOMEN" (2017) Review There have been a good number of adaptations of Louisa May Alcott's 1868-69 novel, "Little Women". Although it was not the first adaptation ever made, the first one I had ever seen was the two-part 1978 miniseries that aired on NBC. But the most recent adaptation I have seen also aired on television. It was Heidi Thomas' three-part miniseries that aired on the BBC in 2017.

For some reason "LITTLE WOMEN" - or at least this adaptation - has failed to win any acclaim in compare to the 1994 and 2019 movies. At least with the American press. The British press, on the other hand, seemed very impressed by Heidi Thomas' adaptation. Frankly, this situation seems like a case of national pride - a British television producer adapting a famous American novel. As for the American press - what can I say? Was this version of "LITTLE WOMEN" really that mediocre? Or was this a case of American journalists resenting the very British Heidi Thomas adapting Alcott's novel? I certainly had some quibbles regarding "LITTLE WOMEN". In an effort to be more politically correct, the miniseries featured two minor African-American characters - a badly wounded Union soldier and a wig maker in Concord, Massachusetts. I had no problems with the wig maker's presence. But I definitely had a problem with the presence of the wounded black soldier being nursed by Mr. March, the four protagonists' father, during the miniseries' first half hour. "LITTLE WOMEN" began right before Christmas 1861. The Union Army did not begin recruiting black soldiers until the mid-July 1862. The 2017 miniseries also featured another historical blooper. Sometime during the second episode, one of the characters mentioned the Battle of Ball's Bluff being recently fought. This is impossible, considering the battle was actually fought at least two months before the story began. I had a few other quibbles regarding "LITTLE WOMEN". As much as I had enjoyed his performances as the March family's neighbor, Mr. March, I must admit that I found Michael Gambon's American accent rather sketchy. Thomas made a mistake that many other adaptations made - she allowed one actress, namely Kathryn Newton, to portray the youngest March sibling, Amy. Newton is an excellent actress, but there were times when she seemed a bit too old to be portraying a pre-teen and later early teens Amy. The 1949 MGM movie allowed Amy, as portrayed by the 16-17 year-old Elizabeth Taylor, to be older than Beth. The production barely got away with this. But only the 1994 movie had cast two actresses to portray Amy - Kirsten Dunst (who was roughly 11 to 12 years old when that movie was shot) and later, Samantha Mathis. One last problem - or should I say quibble - bothered me about "LITTLE WOMEN". Hairstyles. Especially the hairstyles worn by one Josephine "Jo" March. I understand that Jo is considered the "tomboy" of the March family. And I could understand the casual or loose style in which she wore her hair during the first half of the story . . . and inside the family home. But there were times when she wore her hair in a similar manner when she was outside. And "tomboy" or not, I just cannot see Jo being so relaxed with her hair - at least not in public and not during the 1860s. Sometimes, I feel that this effort to portray Jo as a "free spirit" went a little too far. The American press had more problems with "LITTLE WOMEN". The main theme behind their dissatisfaction seemed to be criticisms of the production's "faithful" adaptation of Alcott's novel. In other words, the miniseries is a stridently conservative adaptation. It lacked - at least according to Sonia Sariya of "Vanity Fair" magazine - progress. Critics accused the miniseries of following Alcott's novel by allowing all of the sisters to adhere to the social dictates of mid-century United States. As I write this, I am trying to so hard not to punch my fist through my computer screen or scream in frustration. "LITTLE WOMEN" is an adaptation of a novel that was published in 1868, not 1968 or 2018. Or perhaps they were pissed that Jo ended up married to Professor Bhaer, which did not happen in Alcott's original ending (before it was changed). I keep forgetting that many of today's feminists believe that the only way a woman can achieve her dream or be "fulfilled" is by avoiding matrimony altogether. I also find it odd that none of these critics have demanded the same fate for the protagonists featured in any of the Jane Austen adaptations, including the recent movie, "EMMA". So, why dump this nonsense on this particular production? Because it was a British adaptation . . . of an American novel? I came away with the feeling that the overreaching theme for "LITTLE WOMEN" seemed to be personal self-satisfaction for its four major protagonists. This adaptation featured the first time Elizabeth "Beth" March, third and most reserved sister, being portrayed as someone who suffered from social anxiety disorder, instead of mere shyness. I had once come across an article on the Internet that claimed the recent 2019 movie adaptation had finally done justice to the youngest March sister and not portray her as a villain. I could only shake my head in confusion. I have never regarded Amy as a villain. Certainly not in this or any of the other adaptation of "Little Women". Yes, Amy could be vain, coddled and a bit spiteful. But she had to struggle to overcome some of her negative traits and at the same time, develop into a strong-minded woman who knew what she wanted in life - to become an artist and live a life beyond genteel poverty. The same could be said for the oldest March sister, Margaret "Meg". She starts out as a young woman, who is already regarded as ideal in the story. Some have criticized Meg for her desire for domestic bliss. Superficially, I believe there is nothing wrong with this. After all, it is a woman's right to choose what she wants in life. However, like Amy, Meg also harbored a desire to be both socially acceptable and wealthy. I never had a problem with Amy attaining this position, because I have always suspected she was emotionally suited to such a lifestyle. I believe Meg was a different story. I believe Meg had to learn to attain her desire for domestic bliss in a way that suited her, instead of Amy. And she had to realize that kowtowing to her great-Aunt March's demands for all of the March sisters to marry the "right men" (namely wealthy) and take their places within the upper-classes was not the way. At least for her. Meg's encounter with Laurie's British upper-class friends, the Vaughns, may have finally allowed her to question her previous desire to be socially acceptable. While viewing this miniseries, it had occurred to me that Josephine "Jo" March might the most complicated of the four sisters. Many admire Jo for her artistic ambitions to be a writer and her independent spirit. But I thought Heidi Thomas did an excellent job in conveying how Jo can sometimes be her own worst enemy. Despite her ambition to be a novelist, she was willing to waste her literary talents to create cheap melodramas to help support the family. Initially, I saw nothing wrong with this. However, Jo seemed doomed to continue wasting her talent with writing cheap melodramas. She probably would have continued this path if her parents and Professor Bhaer had not encouraged to take a chance and embrace her true artistic potential. Another aspect of this production that really impressed me was how Heidi Thomas made Jo's rejection of Laurie's marriage proposal more plausible. Clearer. This was especially apparent in scenes that featured Jo's quiet rejections of Laurie's romantic overtures, her final rejection of his marriage proposal and her conversation with her mother on why Laurie could never be the right husband for her. But it is obvious that Jo's biggest problem was her fear of losing her family - not only to death, but also to love and marriage. This explained her hostile attitude toward Meg's romance with John Brooke. Jo seemed to be afraid of growing up. And she seemed to dread that growing up would eventually mean losing her sisters. "LITTLE WOMEN" features some differences from Alcott's novel. Did these changes hurt the miniseries' narrative? Well, I some issues with Thomas' erroneous mentions of historical events of the Civil War. On the hand, I thought her portrayal of Beth suffering from social anxiety disorder was something of a masterstroke. The miniseries did not feature a great deal of Alcott's religious additions to the story . . . something I did not miss. There were other aspects from Alcott's story that was also missing - the family newspaper, the Pickwick Club, and the sisters' amateur dramatics. But honestly? I did not miss them. Earlier, I had criticized some of the hairstyles worn by actress Maya Hawke, during her portrayal of Jo March. However, I certainly cannot criticize Eimer Ni Mhaoldomhnaigh's costume designs. I do not regard them as among the best 1860s costumes I have seen on television or in the movies. But I thought they were pretty solid, as shown in the image below:

Knowing that this adaptation of Alcott's novel was a British production, I thought Susie Cullen's production designs did a first-rate job in converting the Ireland locations into mid-19th century Massachusetts, New York City and Great Britain. Considering the miniseries was shot in Ireland, perhaps Ms. Cullen's job proved to be easier than I had originally assumed. I certainly enjoyed Piers McGrail's photography for the miniseries. I found it beautiful, thanks to the colorful and sharp images. One of the best aspects of "LITTLE WOMEN" - at least for me - proved to be its cast. The 2017 miniseries featured solid performances from supporting players that include Julian Morris as John Brooke, Meg March's future husband; Helen Methven as the March family's housekeeper Hannah; Adrian Scarborough as Amy’s teacher, Mr. Davis; Kathleen Warner Yeates as Aunt Carroll; Richard Pepple as a local Concord wigmaker; along with Felix Mackenzie-Barrow and Mei Bignall as the visiting Vaughn siblings. But there were supporting performances that impressed me. Dylan Baker gave the most memorable portrayal of Mr. March, the sisters' father, I have seen on-screen. It helped that his character was never in danger of being pushed to the background, unlike other adaptations I have seen. Mark Stanley gave a very charming and intelligent performance as Professor Bhaer, the German scholar whom Jo befriended while working as a governess in New York City. Stanley made it very easy for me to see how Jo would find Professor Bhaer so attractive. I really enjoyed Angela Landsbury's portrayal of Mr. March's aunt, Aunt March. The actress did such a marvelous job in conveying the character's forthright and controlling nature. Michael Gambon's portrayal of the Marches' neighbor, the elderly Mr. Laurence. Gambon did an excellent job of developing the character from a reserved and forbidding man grieving over a recently deceased child to a wise and compassionate friend and grandparent. If I had to choose my favorite on-screen Mrs. March aka "Marmee" I have seen, the honor would go to Emily Watson. I really enjoyed how Watson portrayed Marmee as this wise, yet pragmatic woman struggling to keep her family together. Another excellent performance came from Jonah Hauer-King, the story's "boy-next-door" who became a close friend of the March sisters. I cannot deny that Hauer-King gave one of the most complex performances in the miniseries. He did an excellent job in conveying the positive aspects of Laurie's personality - including his charm and loyalty to the March famiy; and the character's more negative aspects - namely his impatience, his inability to understand Jo's intellectual pursuits and his own quick temper. Naturally, I had to turn my attention to the four actresses who portrayed the March sisters. Thanks to Thomas, actress Annes Elwy was given the opportunity to portray the reserved Beth March from the prospective of one suffering from social anxiety disorder. And Elway did an excellent job of conveying Beth's emotional disorder and the struggles she endured to overcome it. Earlier, I had complained that Kathryn Newton was too old to portray Amy March during the first two years of the war. And I stand by this complaint. But I cannot deny that I ended up enjoying Newton's performance of the ambiguous Amy anyway. And I am thankful she did not make the mistake of exaggerating her performance to portray a character seven to eight years younger - something that many actors and actresses tend to do. Someone had once complained that Willa Fitzgerald's portrayal of the oldest March sister, seemed "too mature". And I do not understand this complaint. Meg was not only the oldest sibling, but possessed a personality that led her to occasionally behave like a "quasi parent" to her younger sisters. And Fitzgerald did a first-rate job in portraying his aspect of Meg's personality and her role within the March family hierarchy. As for Maya Hawke - questionable hairstyle aside - I truly enjoyed her performance as the story's main protagonist, the artistic and tomboyish Josephine "Jo" March. She did a superb job in capturing the many complex textures of Jo's personality. More importantly, Hawke also did an excellent job of developing Jo from this gawky and outgoing personality to someone forced to grow into adulthood - even if a little reluctantly. It is a pity that Hawke's performance was never acknowledge with an acting nomination of any kind. In fact, it is a pity that very few have been able to truly appreciate this adaptation of Louisa May Alcott's novel. The three-part miniseries seemed to be overshadowed by two recent adaptations - Gillian Armstrong's 1994 film and Greta Gerwig's 2019 production. I am not putting these two films down. But as far as I am concerned, Heidi Thomas' miniseries strikes me as worthy as those two films. In fact, I feel it is just as worthy as other adaptations of the novel - including the 1933 film and the adaptation released in 1949. I honestly did not believe I would enjoy this adaptation as much I did. And I have to give kudos to Heidi Thomas for creating a superb adaptation. She was aptly supported by excellent direction from Vanessa Caswill and a first-rate cast led by Maya Hawke. I look forward to viewing this adaptation in years to come.

[lord-explosion-baku]

hello!! i just wanna say that ur writing is absolutely incredible and honestly one of the best writers I've ever seen! Can you share any writers that you enjoy reading too? its hard finding writers that write stories lips you do :(( anyways i love your stories and i hope this motivates you more?? idk if this is motivating enough haha i just love your writing and i wanna see more TT ILY

Oh shoot, oh heck. It’s so late but I’ll try to put together a decent amount of list for ya! It’s a little difficult because I can get competitive and obscenely jealous of other writers’ skill so I do have the habit of not drinking from the same creek I dip my toes into, (idk if that’s an idiom or if it’s close enough to an idiom that already exists but it’s here now and you can’t stop it.) but I am trying to get over that because comparing your work is silly and it’s really only hinderance in the end.

okay so a LIST (in no particular order) (and these are for people who I am pretty certain are still active with writing for BNHA? If I’m wrong, lol I’m sorry? they’ve got content nonetheless!)

@bnhascribbles woof woof. This writer right here is relentless. She makes me!! FEEL things whether is be a disgusting amount of tooth rotting fluff or utter shock and heartbreak. Scribbles has the ability to shatter my world in one simple scene since she’s SO GREAT at conveying emotion, and I’m going to physically fight her someday. I should mention that when she writes angst, there’s a certain amount of finality to those scenarios, and it’s like offputting in a way that can make you become addicted to the hurt.

@perpetual-bed-head: HELLO! Reading her stuff is like taking a vacation. Instead of laying in bed suffering, I’m suddenly very much with my best boy and he’s making me feel good, and special, and cute! Cece puts a lot of work into her work and when lever I get the privilege of reading it, I’m always awestruck. There’s also always an odd amount of symbolism that goes into her work (let’s say, being a little too intimate with Midoriya, it’s hinted that at least the concept of All Might present as well, and that just has me ROFLing [do the kids still use ROFL? Idk. I’m not going to continue it but for Cece, it’s important]) her stuff is hot and cute at the same time which is muy importanté!

@bakugou-tm I think I’m always going to be a fool in love with this writer. Like no joke, if my love for Bakugou is ever straying, I’d really just have to go back to her page and be all “oh that’s right, he’s HOT!” She really has characterization down and that’s!!! So important! Seriously reading her work is exactly like a real life Bakugou dating sim and that really should be enough to get you there, bro.

@quirkfics just seriously incredible work and there’s an endless amount of content on there ama! This writer is VERY good a writing a scene with just the right amount of detail even if it’s just a shorter piece and every time they do, I’m BLOWN away! They also write NSFW work for gender neutral readers which is seriously admirable (I don’t know if some of the other artists ive mentioned do it do not, I just know that with quirkfics, it sticks out.)

@bluesimba AHHHH???!!!?? Ahhhhh???? Listen, okay, I don’t know if I have the right words to illustrate just how great their work is?? Detail is obviously important to me so when it comes to bluesimba’s writing it’s like??? God, the simplest thing (sitting at a table with Hawks while he tells you that he bought twitter simply because it’s a bird themed website for example) while using the right amount of elemental design seriously has me soft. I discovered them when I was free ling down and a friend sent me a few of their one shots to cheer me up and boy did that get the job done!!

@dee-madwriter ooooof. If you like unconventional scenarios as much as I do, you should definitely head to Dee’s page. Dee is a really great outside-of-the-box writer, and by that I mean, in her writing I see ideas that I’ve never even thought of before which is cool in itself and then adding that certain spicy element in there? Muy bien. Dee also writes for multiple fandoms (again, I’m not sure if the other artists ive mentioned do as well, but you know) so it’s nice to see that certain amount of flare in other mediums as well!

I’m gonna go to sleep and finish this in the morning

It’s the morning

@weebsinstash more unconditional scenarios but goodness gracious some of her stuff is exactly my cup of tea. Weeb writes for so many characters too and she has me eyeballing people I probably wouldn’t have to begin with if not for her.

@lady-bakuhoe honestly, I don’t even know what to say. She’s doing kinktober and as far as I know, they gotten most of not all days down so far, so you literally just gotta pop onto her page and see the magnificence for what it is, dood. It’s GOOD!

Kerrrrrffff I’m sorry if this is a short list. I know I’m a fan of other writers but Idk how active some of them are and I don’t?? Talk to very many people on here?? I’m a hermit crab... HIZZAHT!

[bl4cklabyrinth]

GiGS October 2020 Cover Feature Translation Part I: Hiro [Vocal] Interview

Disclaimer: Please do not retranslate my work into other languages, as my translation may not be accurate. I am no Japanese or English native.

Photo from here.

Starting things off is a solo corner where I talk to each of them about their latest album “V”.

First up is Hiro, who has been leading MY FIRST STORY as its obligatory frontman.

Not only does he breathe life into their music with his unique, high-toned voice, but he also writes the lyrics to all of their songs. That being said, how did he go about creating this album?

- Hiro, you’ve been writing the lyrics to all of MY FIRST STORY’s songs. Is that something you decided on yourself, or was it something that just came about naturally?

Hiro: I guess I just kind of went with the flow. I’ve always thought that the lyrics should be written by the vocalist, and that the only things I could do in this band were to think of melodies and write lyrics. Because of this, I felt like I had to do what I could. None of the members wanted to write the lyrics either, so I ended up taking on the job. 

- I think one aspect of it is that the words coming from the singer himself are more easily conveyed. Having said that, what is important to you when writing lyrics?

Hiro: They aren’t exactly like the punchlines used in rap, but I try to include words that would catch the listeners’ attention and get stuck in their heads even if they were just doing a quick listen. To incorporate hooks, so to speak, in key parts of the song. It’s words like those that leave a strong impression.

- I think being catchy comes with leaving a strong impression. The lyrics you write also always match the taste and deepen the worldview of the song.

Hiro: I’ve never written lyrics before everything else. I listen to the track first, then I quickly jot down the image that comes to mind and the words I could possibly use in the song. I’m the type of person who decides on a theme before I start writing, so the lyrics I come up with naturally complement the music. I guess my songwriting process is kind of like writing an essay or a paper. I don’t just write whatever I want to say at the time; rather, I set a theme and work from there.

- Some people have trouble settling on an image and take some time choosing a theme. How about you, where do you stand?

Hiro: I probably fall among the quick decision makers, but that doesn’t mean I don’t reconsider my choices and change the theme during the writing process. I listen to the song, quickly decide on a theme, then immediately start on the lyrics. The thing is, it takes me quite a while to continue writing after that (laughs).

- I see (laughs). So is adding lyrics the last step in the production process?

Hiro: Yes. I only start writing after the backing track is completed and the melody is set. For example, when words come to me while thinking of a melody, I would sometimes include them in the lyrics if I like them enough, but I won’t start writing the whole thing until the melody is finalized.

- More than that, it’s impressive how your lyrics reveal your inner weaknesses, your pain, and your negative side.

Hiro: I don’t really mind showing that side of me; on the contrary, I have nothing else to write about. I’m also not very good at writing the inspirational, “Let’s do our best!” type of songs. Coming up with those kinds of lyrics frustrates me and tests my patience so I find them difficult to write. However, I was thinking of adding some of those lyrics in the album. Teru composed “Akashi”, and since it’s one of the more cheerful songs on the album, I thought it would be best to make its lyrics positive. So, I decided to give it a shot.

- With the line “Moving forward in the right direction will be my testimony”, “Akashi” is a song that gives the listener a push in the back. Another thing is that your lyrics have the perfect balance between English and Japanese.

Hiro: I guess you can say I find it easier to write lyrics in English. With English, I don’t have to worry too much about the appeal of the words, and there aren’t as many expressions to use either. With Japanese, for instance, the word “ai” (love) connotes all sorts of things such as “itoshi” (dear/beloved), “koishii” (missed/longed for), and “mederu” (to cherish/admire). With English, however, there’s only the word “love” (laughs). It’s straightforward on its own, and you can get your message across depending on how it’s translated. That’s why it’s easier for me to write in English.

- It just occurred to me that you seem to have the tendency to perceive words based on their rhythm.

Hiro: Ah, you’re right. That’s true.

- In that case, it must be easier to write in English.

Hiro: Yeah. English makes it easy to attach words to a melody in a way that sounds good. It’s nice to listen to a melody that’s in sync with the lyrics, right? Getting results like that is simple when you use English. I also think there are a lot of people under the impression that English sounds cooler. I want to make everything as catchy as possible though, even when writing in English, so I try not to use difficult words whenever I can.

- That’s part of the charm. Even so, you added more Japanese lyrics to “V”, didn’t you?

Hiro: That’s right, I did. We’re a Japanese band after all, so writing lyrics in Japanese is still the ideal.

- It’s an advantage to be able to use Japanese and English in a similar way. Speaking of which, when did you write the lyrics to the songs on “V”?

Hiro: It varies from song to song. I wrote the lyrics to “Underground” about a year ago when it was composed. The way this song was made was unusual. I started on the lyrics early because the demo was up sooner than expected and I didn’t want to have a hard time later on, but as it turned out, I didn’t make it in time… or something like that (laughs).

- I see (laughs). On that note, more and more artists are writing about their thoughts on the coronavirus pandemic, but there aren’t any songs like that on “V”, are there?

Hiro: There aren’t. Actually, some of the songs on “V” were made after the coronavirus started spreading. “Starting Over” was composed quite a while ago, but the lyrics were written around the time the pandemic broke out. Same goes for “Daimeiwaku”. Nonetheless, I never thought about writing a song on the coronavirus. I feel like the nuance of the lyrics would be a little too strong for the album. We wanted the whole album to be poppy and catchy, so adding a song about corona would only get in the way of that. I experienced and thought about a lot of things over the course of the pandemic just like everybody else, but I still don’t know what the right thing to do is, and I felt like it wasn’t my place to write about it given the current situation. It’s okay to talk about it during live MCs and stuff like that, but I didn’t want to etch it permanently on something as timeless as a song. That being said, I don’t think I’ll be writing about corona anytime soon. Even if I were to sing about it, it would probably be expressed in a very abstract manner.

- I understand. Every artist is entitled to their own opinion on the subject, so I think those who choose to sing about it and those who don’t are both doing the right thing. 

Hiro: I’m in no way trying to invalidate those who sing about corona. As you mentioned, it’s all a matter of perspective. I don’t like singing about topics that directly concern the world… like political discontent. It’s difficult to write about those kinds of themes; I’d rather write lyrics that express my thoughts on a variety of themes and hope that those who are listening can relate them to their own feelings and sentiments at the time.

- There certainly were songs that resonated with me when I listened to them as the pandemic went on, even though they were about something completely unrelated to it. Now that we’ve talked about the lyrics, I’d like to ask you about the songs. How was the recording process for this album?

Hiro: I was away from MY FIRST STORY for a while since quarantine started and I couldn’t hold shows or go to the studio. A long time had passed since I last recorded, so in a good way it felt like I was singing someone else’s songs. That was good for me, because it naturally set forth a new direction and brought out singing techniques in me that I had never used before. Still, I wondered what would happen if I made those kinds of songs with MY FIRST STORY, so I consulted with Nob and our engineer to see how it would turn out. I asked during the recording session, “How would it sound if I sing it like this?” Everyone thought it was unexpected but good when I tried it out, so we just decided to proceed in that direction. It’s this kind of approach that led to more versatile songs this time around. I’d like to believe they fit in with the current era where listeners look for all sorts of things in their music.

- The fact that you were able to present multiple facets in a single package proves that you produced something next-level. “Unexpected but good” is great, because the appeal of a song is more important than the direction it takes.

Hiro: I’m not so sure about that. Most of the songs on “V” were made by Nob, so they were kind of like “Nob’s vision + myself”. It wasn’t all me. I’m glad it all worked out in the end.

- You need a great deal of singing experience to be able to adopt that kind of approach, so I’m sure you sing a lot of different songs on a regular basis. Come to think of it, in the interview with your instrumentalists for the GiGS September 2020 issue, it was mentioned that you sing quite a few songs at karaoke after your live shows.

Hiro: I do (laughs). I find other people’s songs more fresh – or rather, more refreshing. Unlike MY FIRST STORY’s songs, I don’t get the chance to perform them very often so I can sing them pretty casually. I love it. That’s why I sing a ton of artists’ songs when I go to karaoke.

- About singing casually, you’re the type of person who likes to have fun while singing other artists’ songs and doesn’t always stick to his own style, right?

Hiro: Right. To put it another way, there’s a pattern to those who always choose to stick to their own style. I believe that each song has its own merits – ballads, for instance, have a certain charm to them. If you ignore that and sing every single song in the same way, those listening will eventually get bored. Of course, there are advantages to doing that as well, but there’s a part of me that wants to make the most out of things and try different forms of expression in my songs. That’s been in my mind for a while now, and I feel like I was able to expand my range even further with “V”.

- The variety of expressions and range of the songs are wider than ever and they’re really worth listening to.

Hiro: There’s this thing the members often tell me: “Whatever song it may be, it will be MY FIRST STORY as long as Hiro is the one singing”. Teru was the first person to tell me that. He said that around 2 to 3 years ago, and from then on, I stopped being so conscious of my own identity. That was the biggest thing that helped me expand my range.

- Truth be told, the entire album has a touch of Hiro’s personality, all the while showcasing its breadth. Now, if you had to pick a song from “V” that left a strong impression on you, what would it be?

Hiro: There’s really a ton of them this time. It’s like Nob had a theme for each song when we were working on “V”. There were songs that paid homage and some that had a subject matter. I didn’t really pay attention to it, but I was able to see that person’s point of view and the music he’s playing objectively, so I have a strong sense of trust in that. The songs on this album were all new and innovative, so as we got to the later songs, I got a little confused about how to sing them and that made recording pretty difficult. Nob and our engineer pulled it off really well, and I believe we ended up with great results. Among those songs, if I had to choose one that left a particularly strong impression… “Aikotoba” was probably the hardest one to make.

- Bringing something new to the table, “Aikotoba” is a song that has a guitar-rock lyricism to it that’s a bit different from the symphonic ballads you’ve done in the past.

Hiro: That’s true. This song needed to be sung with a nuance that hadn’t been there before. I listened to a lot of music under the so-called guitar-rock genre, and that was the best way for me to get rid of my own tendencies. At any rate, I had to be mindful of singing the song smoothly.

- There are many other notable songs as well. For example, I was strongly drawn to your voice in “moonlight” that seemed to transcend even gender.

Hiro: From the moment I heard the demo for “moonlight”, I knew I wanted to put it in the album. It had a lot in common with “mine” from the “Mukoku” single (2019.8.14) which I thought was a must-have in this album, so I had to make this song just as compelling. I enjoyed recording the song, and I had a great time writing the lyrics as well. I honestly thought that I would struggle with the lyrics, but everything went smoother than I expected, so I have to say that I had the most fun working on “moonlight”.

- We haven’t seen much of it in MY FIRST STORY’s discography so far, but it’s great that you’re able to enjoy songs like this now. 

Hiro: I was a bit surprised myself that I was able to make “moonlight” so easily. I’m glad that I discovered a lot of things I wasn’t aware of during the recording of this album, and I’m sure this will continue on for MY FIRST STORY in the future.

[tsushimanoonryo]

A to Z relationship headcanons (sfw)

As mentioned before, I have been working on filling out some askmemes on my own to further flesh Jin out. Here is the first one. It’s the sfw version of the A to Z relationship ask meme.

A= Affection (how affectionate are they with s/o)

A good samurai is in control of his emotions at all times, careful not to let any passions sway him from his duty. Jin might be The Ghost now, but some habits are hard to break. In public, he is not overly affectionate, but he’s not cold. Rather, he is more subtle: a lingering glance, his hand brushing against yours, standing just a bit too close to be considered proper in polite society. Behind closed doors, he is a lot more affectionate, but only after a lot of verbal flirtations and insinuations. He doesn’t start to get touchy-feely until he’s ready to sleep with someone. Or if he’s been drinking and his inhibitions are lower.

B= Breath (what could their s/o do to take their breath away)

If his partner does something that surprises him, or that Jin feels he is unworthy of. If he knows that his partner has done something for him that would majorly inconvenience them, he would be so impressed. He reasonably expects his partners to take care of their own needs before his, but when they do something for him and put themselves second, he is so, so touched. He knows how rough the world is and what their little act of self sacrifice would mean.

C= Cuddle (do they cuddle? If they do, how and when do they cuddle?)

He does, but largely only in extremely intimate moments (post-coitus). At that point, he’s broken past his restraint and given into his passions, so he doesn’t care about decorum anymore. In these intimate moments, he can be almost clingy. He wants to drink in as much of his lover as possible and savor the physical sensations before having to go back out into the real world and take up all of his worries again. 

D= Dream (what do they dream of doing with their s/o?)

Jin knows it’s futile to think about, but he would love nothing more than to be able to somehow be reedemed in the eyes of the Shogun and have his title and lands restored. Then he would want to make things official with his partner by marrying and having children. However, some serious changes would have to happen from the top down, so he knows this dream is impossible to achieve. But he would love to give his love a happy, comfortable life on the Sakai Estate. Even just settling down living a simple peasant’s life and raising a family on a farmstead would be nice, too, and probably just as impossible.

E= Effort (how much effort do they put into a relationship?)

If Jin is going to do something, he’s going to put all of himself into it. This includes relationships. He’ll give and give and give until the point of exhaustion. With the wrong person, this can turn out badly for him and he does open himself up for people to take advantage of him. But Jin doesn’t think twice about the way he acts because he is driven by his desire to do his best. His partner inspires him to keep going, and if he doesn’t feel that with them, then he doesn’t think the relationship is worth having. At least, not romantically.

F= Fear (what do they do if their s/o is scared? How do they handle it?)

He will figure out the root of their fear and try to handle it for them. Depending on the situation, Jin has no problem jumping into a fight so that the person he loves doesn’t have to. He hates seeing his partners suffer, so he will do everything in his power to stop the source of the fear. He is also always ready with a word of reassurance or encouragement when needed. He is a little more awkward about physically comforting someone, but he’s getting better. As long as his partners need, Jin will sit and be a steadfast source of support and solidarity.

G= Gifts (what type of gifts do they give their s/o? Do they want a gift in return?)

Jin would want to gift his lover with something practical. With his life the way it is, he doesn’t have a lot of disposable income or resources, nor does he have time to be frivolous very often. Thus, the gifts he gives are ones that will save his partner the trouble of having to acquire the items themselves. Although, every so often, when he’s had too much sake, he’ll find something beautiful (a flower, a poem, a particularly nice adornment) and leave it as a gift anonymously. He thinks he is being sneaky, but his partners always know it is from him.

H= Hugs (do they hug their s/o? How often?)

He is generally not a hugger. That’s too much of an overt display of physical intimacy and it would embarrass him.

I= Intimacy (how romantic are they? Do they have problems with intimacy?)

Jin is surprisingly a romantic, although you wouldn’t think it by looking at him. But he is a prolific poet and an avid admirer of the beauty all around him, and you can’t have the soul of an artist and not be a romantic at heart. Although he is restrained, his passions run deep and would consume him if he didn’t keep them in check. It might take him a while to open up because he has to establish trust first, but when he does, he can be intensely intimate. He would do just about anything if the right person asked him to, no matter how it affects the rest of his life. He loves hard and he loves deeply, and once you have him, he’s yours for the rest of his life.

J= Jealousy (do they get jealous? How do they react when jealous?)

Jin gets very jealous, although he would deny that he does. He tries to subtly go on the offense, but he is very obvious about it (“Who is he? Whatever, it’s not like I care.”). He will act a little cooly around his partner until they call him out for it. After, when he has been reassured, he usually feels pretty silly about getting worked up, but will still deny that he was even jealous to begin with. He likes to think he is above all that.

K= Kiss (are they a good kisser? Do they like to kiss? How often do they try to kiss?)

Have you seen Jin’s lips? Of course he’s a good kisser. He won’t kiss in public very often, though. He likes to keep his romantic escapades fairly private. But if he’s alone with his partner and in an amorous mood, he’ll kiss every bit of skin he can get to.

L= Love (when do they say they love you? How often do they say it? Do they prefer to say or show it?)

Jin will do just about everything short of saying the words “I love you.” It’s not that he’s cagey about commitment. He does love his partners, but he would much rather show it with his actions and convey it with the tone of his voice. He was raised to think talking about your emotions was crass and can get easily embarrassed talking about the way he feels. However, if he feels his partner really needs to hear it, he’ll put aside his personal discomfort and tell them, and he will be really intense about it. 

M= Marriage (do they want to get married? If so, what kind of ceremony?)

He always expected he would marry and continue his family’s line. However, now that Clan Sakai is disbanded and he was declared a traitor, Jin doesn’t want, nor have time for a marriage in the traditional sense. He yearns for companionship, for someone to share his troubles and comfort him (it’s lonely being The Ghost), but he doesn’t want to tie anyone down to that lifestyle. He would feel guilty for condemning them to a lifetime of being hunted. And he definitely doesn’t want to risk bringing a child into his current circumstances.

N= Night out (what type of dates do they like to go on? How often do they like to go on them?)

Barring the fact that dating wasn’t really a thing the way we think of it in medieval Japan, it’s really hard for Jin to carve time out to have a special night with his partner. He’s busy liberating Japan from the Mongols and trying not to be captured by the Shogun, so he can’t really do frivolous things anymore. Instead, he might find an excuse to take his s/o alone with him while out scouting and spend time together that way. If he has the time and a hot spring is nearby, he might spend a few hours alone with his partner there too. But for the most part, he has to try to make his partner feel special in other ways.

O= Out of the Ordinary (what’s something they don’t normally do with/for their s/o?)

Go on outings for fun. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to, it’s just that he’s got more pressing things going on. However, he would love to be able to treat his s/o to an afternoon or a night of fun to get their minds off of things every once in a while. 

P= Playful (are they playful in a relationship? If so, how do they play around/mess with their s/o?)

Jin does have a playful side. It hasn’t come out often as of late, but it is still there. This is the man who proclaimed that a true samurai doesn’t need any clothes, after all. He’s just very strict about keeping certain aspects of his life compartmentalized. While he might throw out a sarcastic quip, a flirtation, and grin every so often, he doesn’t really let and let his playful side come to the front unless he knows he has nothing else putting pressure on him. When he feels safe and secure, he feels like he can metaphorically let his hair down and have more fun. This usually takes the form of playful teasing and good-natured ribbing. If he’s been drinking, he’ll start to get handsy too.

Q= Questions (Do they ask their s/o their opinion on things? Do they share theirs?)

Jin highly respects anyone he is in a relationship with, so he of course wants their opinion on things. It’s less that he needs their opinions, however, and more that he wants to let them know that he values their input and thinks they are important. Jin will only share his opinion with them if they ask, or if he really feels like they are making a mistake. But even then, he’ll respect whatever decision they make, but he will speak up.

R= Random (how spontaneous is their relationship? Do they do things on the spot or plan ahead?)

It is spontaneous in a way that if they find a chance to be alone together, they’re going to jump on it. It isn’t spontaneous in that there’s not really a lot of chances for that, so most of their alone time is planned. If things were different, Jin would probably be a little more spontaneous. He would probably want to do things as he feels them.

S= Sleep (how do they sleep with their s/o?)

It’s not always very romantic. Jin is exhausted a lot of the time and when it’s time to sleep, he’s out. He can fall asleep anywhere (for example: mostly upright, leaning on his horse in the mud) and he’s not very precious about it. In those instances, he’ll probably just lay down next to his partner and fall asleep there, just content to be near them while he sleeps. On better days, when he’s not bone-tired at bedtime, he’ll probably fall asleep spooning a little bit if it’s not too hot. He will sometimes toss and turn in his sleep if he’s having nightmares, however, so he tends not to latch on to his partner while he sleeps.

T= Trust (how much do they trust their s/o?)

Given his current situation, he’s not going to even attempt to be in a relationship with someone unless he trusts them with his life. Anything less than 100% and he’s not going to bother.

U= Unique (what makes them unique as an s/o?)

The fact that he is so accepting of different walks to life. You pretty much have to be a monster for Jin to dislike you. Or a traitor. But aside from that, you could tell him your deepest darkest secrets and he would not hold any of it against you. He looks at every part of a person before he makes a judgment call and he feels like you don’t owe him an explanation for anything that makes up a facet of your personality.

V= Vulnerable (how long until they can be vulnerable around their s/o? What are they like in this state?)

Jin has a habit of not always being direct about his feelings. It’s just how he was raised, so being vulnerable in front of someone can be difficult. However, if he’s in a romantic relationship with a person, it means he trusts them with his life. Even if he won’t outright say what’s bothering him, his partners can tell when he’s experiencing moments of vulnerability. He’ll change up his body language, stop putting on the stoic face he tries to keep at all times. He’ll look worried, he’ll pace around, he’ll seem uncertain; you’ll know he’s letting his walls down.  He starts doing this little by little every day until his partners don’t remember a time when he wasn’t like this around them.

W= Wild Card (get a random domestic headcanon of the character of your choice)

When Jin gets sick or injured, he’s a huge pain in his partner’s ass. He doesn’t want to be a burden to them, so he pushes himself too hard or pretends he can do more than he can and gets himself hurt. He doesn’t like to be babied either, so if he’s confined to bed, he pouts a lot.

X= XRay (what would they do if their s/o got injured?)

He would stay remarkably cool during the situation. He would try his best to handle it calmly and methodically. If he could do anything to heal the injury himself, he would do so immediately. If he couldn’t he would get help and reassure his partner the entire time so that they remained calm. However, once he stepped away from the situation, he would not handle it well at all. His reaction would depend on the severity of the injury. If it was something fatal, he would handle it very poorly. If someone caused his partner’s death, he would seek bloody revenge. He doesn’t want anger to consume him, but honestly, it probably would in this case. If his partner was maimed or hurt badly but still alive, he would handle it slightly better. He probably wouldn’t kill the person who did it to them, but he would definitely make them pay.  He wouldn’t hold back either, and he wouldn’t think about his own personal safety. However, if the injury was something minor, he might just be a little terse and restless until his s/o recovered.

Y= Yuck (do they have any pet peeves about their s/o? Are there any habits that might bother their s/o?)

I think in general, he doesn’t like when people are braggarts. You can boast a little, especially in a good natured way, but if you think you are the best and that you can’t learn from anyone, Jin hates it. As for habits that might bother a potential partner… Jin can be a bit stubborn at times and unintentionally obtuse. He comes from a place of privilege and doesn’t necessarily always realize if he is being a spoiled little rich boy. He tries to be considerate, but there are some things he just misses.

Z= Zeal (are they passionate as an s/o? Do they want or like passion?)

Jin feels strongly about everything, even though he tries not to because it can cloud his judgment. However, now that he’s no longer a samurai, he is giving into his emotions and letting himself feel more and more. Whereas before, he would probably be super uptight about any relationship he had, now he realizes life is too short for that sort of thing. He still won’t be super affectionate in public, but he will make sure his partners know just how much he cares about them. He won’t let them feel like he is taking them for granted. He would like the same in return, but he knows not everyone has had his experiences. He just wants to know that the devotion is mutual.

[detectiveran]

Shinichi Kudou was enamored. And not in the normal way either. Didn’t usually people met, talked, hung out, did the whole social interactions shebang before they got attached? But it seemed like he missed all those steps because boy, was he hooked.

In his defense, these weren’t normal circumstances at all. He had seen her in award shows and television when he, himself was new to the music industry. Her voice was so angelic, so beautiful that he couldn’t help himself but admire her. As a man of words, her voice was an inspiration to him. He would be lying if he said that hearing Ran Mouri’s voice sing didn’t bring out the best of his words out of him.

Ran Mouri had made herself a household name at the age of eighteen as a soloist. Guided under the watchful and protective eyes of her parents, who had supported her dream of being a singer, she had successfully launched her career which was full of critical accolades and the general public’s admiration.

Shinichi had first heard her voice on the radio and was awestruck at how much her voice moved him. She had such an emotive voice and soulful lyrics that he could practically paint the picture her song presented. Her songs sent chills down his spine.

He had always been a fan of music, finding solace in the world of melodies, words and the emotions they conveyed. He, himself, had written some songs down and won few local songwriting competitions. Apparently, his words had the power of making the listener feel them viscerally. Shinichi didn’t put in much stock in those compliments but hearing her voice, he knew he had to take the plunge. He couldn’t sit around forever, knowing that he loved writing songs, but never did anything about it.

And so, in the month of September, at the age of eighteen; same age as Ran, Shinichi started sending his songs to various music agencies. It took a lot of sleepless nights, endless strings of disappointment, being cheated out of his money, three years and almost quitting to finally, finally land up as a songwriter. 

SC or the Suzuki Corporation, was a big name in the music industry. They had produced endless musicians, all very talented and beautiful looking, to capture the hearts of general public. He had been able to attend award shows and see Ran Mouri perform on various occasions, and her performance never disappointed him. Shinichi was proud of himself to have a job in that company but it didn’t last for long.

The first time he met the group of songwriters for the band he was supposed to write, he was sorely disappointed how shallow their words were. Yes, the melodies were catchy and the repetitive hook was going to be stuck in public’s mind but what about the words? Weren’t they the core essence of the song? Shinichi was baffled but kept his thoughts to himself. After all, he was a newbie. And the company had a record of doling out hit music, who was he to start being all knowing about an industry in which he had just stepped in.

But after months of mind numbing lyrics and hit dance numbers, he had reached his limit. He was a songwriter, for god’s sake! And it wasn’t as if he didn’t appreciate upbeat, pop music. He did, if they were written well but the songwriters at SC sucked at their job. He needed a vessel to let go of his frustration. He didn’t have that big of a dream, he didn’t want to sing or dance or appear on stages, he just wanted to write and it seemed like he was never going to get that chance if he stayed at SC.

So, one night, he popped his headphones in, played his Ran Mouri playlist and wrote. He wrote for the whole night, his eyes burned with the need to sleep but his mind was on full drive. He need to let go of the anger, disappointment and hope he had felt all these months and so he wrote.

Later, he would blame it on sleep deprivation and split second insanity, but Shinichi did something he never had the courage to in all of these years and so he sent the lyrics he had written to Kisaki Eri, Ran Mouri’s agent.

In his defense though, it was her who had contacted him which had been a by product of rubbing elbows with industry people. Apparently, Eri had read his songs when he was a teenager and was interested in what he had to offer. Shinichi had been awestruck at that time and had nodded his head fervently and thanked her profusely for reading what he had written. Her praise had been enough for him to stick it out at the SC but now he was done. He knew he needed to let go of the insecurity he held that his songs weren’t good enough and grab the chance Eri Kisaki had presented to him. His sleep deprived self agreed and so, the songs were sent.

When he woke up in the middle of the day with two email notifications and thirty four missed calls, he knew he had done something stupid. 

The short of it was that he was fired from SC as he had breached his contract with them by sending his songs to people outside of their company and that he was also hired by Eri Kisaki as a producer, if he was interested.

Now, Shinichi knew he could be a hare brained moron who made dumb decisions but he wasn’t a brain dead moron. Being a producer? At the Kisaki Agency? The one in which his inspiration, Ran Mouri, was in? The words yes and thank you and grateful weren’t enough to describe the elation he was feeling.

And so, the next morning, with butterflies in his stomach and his heart in his throat, he rapped the door of the self made company and was struck stupid when Ran Mouri, herself, answered.

“Hi, are you Shinichi Kudou? My mom’s expecting you,” she said with a smile.

He must have nodded or did something to indicate that, yes, he was Shinichi Kudou and yes, her mom was expecting him but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what he said. He just hoped it was a coherent sentence because how embarrassing would it be if a song writer couldn’t come up with words?

His meeting did get better though, he was surprised how much Eri Kisaki and Kogoro Mouri cared about music. And he found himself agreeing with their vision. He was excited at the prospect of working with them, of writing his songs and giving shape to his thoughts. He felt invigorated and he knew he had made the right decision to send his songs to them.

In the months that followed, Shinichi had never been happier. The parent-daughter trio was a trip. They fought endlessly and never failed to speak up whenever they felt that something didn’t measure up to their standards. They went on trips and amusement parks and acted like they were kids. There was no pompous bone in their bodies. The only thing that did indicate that they were a music agency was the recording room upstairs filled with equipments and Ran’s trophies.

Shinichi had always been enamored by her voice and her words but now, seeing her pen down her words first hand and seeing the whole process of her being in the studio, his respect for her grew tenfold. This girl was twenty four, same age as him, but she was so talented, so hard working that it felt like she was on an another spectrum. 

And so he did something stupid again, he wrote a song for her. Now, the thing is he wrote songs for her because he was a producer but this song was for her for her. As in, it was about her. As a homage. This wasn’t the stupid thing though, after all, he did have a habit of writing his feelings down. No, that wasn’t the stupid thing he had done. What he did was that he let that song stay in the public folder that the four of them shared. So, he wasn’t surprised at all when Eri Kisaki smiled at him slyly and commented on his infatuation with her daughter the next day. Shinichi had grappled for words, explaining how the admiration was just as an artist and he didn’t have any nefarious intentions. 

But he knew that he was lying, well, not lying, just not saying the complete truth. He did like Ran. As in like her as a woman. They had gotten closer and he would be lying if he didn’t feel the warm, fuzzy butterflies whenever she was in the vicinity. The thing was that he didn’t think that he was in her league. It was Ran Mouri. The soloist of their generation. He was insane to even think about having romantic feelings for her but he knew he could hide his one sided feelings for her, or so he thought.

But it seemed like his feelings weren’t one sided.

“Hi, Shinichi! Can you check this sentence? I can’t seem to find the right words for it,” Ran said.

Shinichi smiled at her and said, “Sure, let me read through it.” He held his hand out for the sheet of paper and Ran sat beside him. 

They were close enough that their shoulders kept touching. Shinichi had to remind himself to keep breathing and not spaz out, he had a tendency to do that when he was alone in her presence.

The moment he concentrated on her words though, everything disappeared. She had such an expressive way of writing that it always made his heart beat faster. Visceral, that was what those judges had said those years ago and reading Ran’s words, he thought that he could understand what they were talking about. Those heart palpitations were never induced when he was at SC.

As far as her request was concerned though, he said, “Nah, the word fits perfectly. You are expressing your affection, right? And comparing it to a flower that’s blossoming? So, using softer words and metaphors work out really well. It looks cohesive.”

He turned his head to the side to see how Ran received his thoughts and was surprised to find her face so close to his. His eyes instinctively lowered to her lips and then back up to her eyes, in a quick motion. Everything around him faded to background and all he could see her was eyes, which were staring right back at him.

Their eyes locked for a few seconds and he was speechless. Was he supposed to say something? What was he supposed to say? Was this awkward? It was awkward, wasn’t it? He should speak up but he didn’t want to. Ran had beautiful eyes, he didn’t want her eyes to stray away from his and he knew, if he spoke up, their moment would break and he didn’t want th-

“I like you.”

!!!!

[dalamjisung]

the picture worth a thousand words ❊ kim seungmin

genre: fluff

word count: 3902

pairing: reader x kim seungmin

description: people say a picture can be worth a thousand words, but you are a writer and that ain’t flying with you. Until you met him; photographer Kim Seungmin. 

There was nothing particularly wrong with you. At least not that you knew; but you still felt like there was something missing. Every night, before going to bed and after doing your usual n nightly routine, you’d sit down on your bed, and think. You have a great job. You graduated from a good university. You have amazing friends. You have a beautiful house. But why did you feel like there was no reason in celebrating all that? Why did you feel so alone? You wanted to share all of that with someone; to wake up in your apartment to the sight of made breakfast and the love of your life in an apron, laughing the kind of laugh that would make happiness bubble in your stomach. You wanted someone to pick you up at your job so they could take you to an impromptu date, or someone who you could talk about the good old day of college. Being alone was fun, but just for a little while. You were older now, and you missed that companionship that all your friends seemed to have.

No, you would alway chastise yourself. You don’t need a man to be happy. And you really didn’t; you knew you were thankful for all you had, for all you achieved. You could easily be happy on your own, but you didn’t really want to. And that made all the difference.

Sighing, you gave up on yet another sleepless night. The night left as quick as the morning came and it was time for you to clock in to work. As you ran to the office, you couldn’t help but feel your stomach growling, complaining about not receiving any breakfast. 

“I’ll eat after the meeting,” You promised yourself, hoping your body would somehow understand and behave during your presentation. 

You worked in a magazine, writing for the arts and culture section, and this meeting would decide on a very important pitch you had been pushing forward for a while; a personal interview with the up and coming photographer, Kim Seungmin. You were a great admirer of his early work, loving the simple way that texture and color mixed in his pictures, managing to really evoke some feeling in you– some feeling you couldn’t quite name it, just feel it. This interview could change your career, as well as his, and you truly believed it could benefit both of you. You were tired of having to always write about the same things and the same people; it was time to write about things that were truly new, truly inspiring. You deserved this, and so did many other people.

“Good morning,” You say, smiling as you walk into the meeting room where your boss, supervisor, and assistant sat. “Shall we begin?”

They all nod, smiling too. Your company was incredible like that; it was casual, with spaces where you could work with your colleagues without the pressure of deadlines. They re-enforced that friendships in the working space optimized the workload in half, and that colorful and open spaces made the workers more engaged, instead of separating people in cubicles. You had your own table, but there was no wall separating you from your peers. Everyone smiled. Everyone truly enjoyed what they did. This was your dream job, and if could simply convince these three people that it was time for a content upgrade, you’d be on cloud nine. You could feel it; it would change your life.

“And that it why,” You say, concluding the presentation with a couple of Kim Seungmin’s pictures from his last exhibit. “I believe we need this change. It is not only a chance to connect with a younger audience, but to also introduce a new artist to our older public. We can widen our publication to encompass more than a select number of people; we can get bigger and better, while staying true to our morals and still conveying informative and captivating content.”

They all nod, looking at each other, and your boss gets up. “That’s why we hired you, isn’t it, Y/N? That crazy mind of yours is one of your best. Go ahead; we’re giving you as much time as you need. I believe this project will work out really well for everyone.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” You say, smiling wide and trying to contain your excitement. 

“Ma’am my ass,” She laughs. “Back in the days you’d refer to me as senior sister…”

You laugh with her. Your boss wasn’t that much older, but actually very close in age to you. She had been the senior responsible for you during your orientation and freshman year, and as soon as she heard you graduated, she offered you a job. You started low; just an unpaid intern, and in the passing two years since the, you managed to climb your way up to payed columnist. You were proud of you and of her. 

“You got it, didn’t you?” Your friend, Lisa, asks as you sat on your table. She was a reviewer for the magazine, enjoying the life of testing out new products for the magazine. She called ‘pampering herself while getting paid.’ “I can see it on your face, you did. Wow! Congratulations!”

“I’m so happy,” You squeal, looking at your friend laughing at you. “This will be great!”

“You finally get to meet your idol,” Lisa jokes and you throw a pen at her.

“I simply admire his job,” You say, squinting your eyes. “That’s why I insisted on this pitch so hard.”

“Pff, sure,” Lisa rolls her eyes. “Let’s not focus on the fact that he is drop dead gorgeous.”

“Oh my gosh Lisa,” You mumble, facepalming yourself. “He is not a product to be tested.”

“You never know,” She says winking. “Maybe he is interested.”

“Don’t you dare hit on my assignment!” You gasp, laughing. 

“I would never!” Lisa says, and you two are almost rolling on the floor at this point. 

You knew she’d never hit on Kim Seungmin (unless he started it, of course.) She always joked like that, complaining about how her job never introduced her to hot people like yours did. It’s not fair, she’d whine playfully. You’ve met all of my favorite idols! Kim Namjoon, Ahn Hyoseop, Jackson Wang! Should I keep going? You’d shrug and chuckle. Sure, it was really cool talking to all of those people, their stories were simple incredible, but you knew about the restrictions placed on them through their companies. You knew the reservations they had, and that half of the information was just generalized answers to questions they weren’t allowed to answer. This is why you were so interested in Kim Seungmin; he wasn’t represented by an entertainment agency nor was he under any contract– he was an independent artist.

You had a response to your initial email right as you came back from lunch.

Dear Ms. Y/N Y/L/N,

Thank you so much for contacting me. I’d love to help you with whatever you might need. However, I am in the middle of photographing for my new exhibit, so I’m afraid I won’t have time to sit down properly and answer all your questions. If you don’t mind me suggesting, you could tag along for a few days to experience my day to day life first hand, and ask your questions as well. 

I hope to hear from you soon,

Kim Seungmin.

“Holy shit!” You gasp. This was much better than you expected. You’d be lying if you said that the thought of asking to accompany him on his daily routine as he photographs didn’t cross your mind, but you refrained yourself from pushing too hard, very aware that some artists are not enthusiastic of sharing their muses and inspirations with others. 

“What?” Lisa runs to your table, leaning on the back of your chair and reading the email carefully. “Holy shit!”

You both start brainstorming for quick and efficient questions, skipping the obvious ones and going straight for the ones that dwelled deeper into his work and exhibitions. This had potential to be your best work so far, and you could feel it. Once you both came up with a list of about thirty questions, it was almost the end of the day. 

“I’ll get going,” Lisa said waving. “Don’t stay here too late!”

“I’ll just answer some emails and leave,” You smile. “See you tomorrow!”

Cracking your fingers, you tried to control your emotions. 

Dear Kim Seungmin,

Thank you for your quick response and for the great suggestion. I’d love to tag along, if it won’t be a problem for you!

When would it be a good time to start?

All the best,

Y/N Y/L/N.

You were about to close your laptop when a new email came in. 

Dear Ms. Y/N Y/L/N,

I’m starting to photograph for a series tomorrow! If you’d like, we could meet at 10AM at the coffee shop right by the corner of Main Street? 

Let me know!

Kim Seungmin. 

You smiled.

Perfect! See you then.

————————

Waking up was not hard simply because once again you didn’t sleep. Getting out of bed, though, was incredibly difficult. You were super excited, but once again your body felt like it had no energy, the two hours you seemed to have managed a light sleep not serving for much. When you finished getting dressed, you notice you barely had time to make it to the coffee shop, so unfortunately, no breakfast would be possible. 

You run all the way there, cursing your laziness that led you to be this out of shape. Getting inside the shop, you sigh, looking to the sides while putting your hair up in a ponytail. It’s then that you hear a sharp, dry snap! Your head whips to your right and you finally find him, with his camera pointing at the coffee mug. Kim Seungmin. The tip of his tongue is showing through his teeth as he absentmindedly looked at his pictures. 

“Hi,” You say gently as you approached him. His eyes, sparkling and large, look at you and he blushes intensely, gulping down. “Kim Seungmin, right?”

“Y-Yeah,” He stutters a bit, and you chuckle. “Look, abou-“

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” You clarify, not wanting him to think you were a fan bothering him on his free time. “We emailed yesterday?”

“You’re Y/N???” He gasps, putting his camera down and offering you his hand. “I didn’t expect you to be so… young.”

You laugh at that. “It’s fine, I didn’t really expect you to know what I looked like.”

“Yeah,” He laughs. “Sorry about that. Do you want anything to eat? I went ahead and ordered coffee…”

“Oh,” Your stomach grumbles. “I’d love that actually. Do we have time?”

He shrugs. “I don’t really have a time table to follow, so sure.”

You guys start talking about yourselves, and you do what you always do; you try to establish a connection to you interviewee so that they feel more comfortable talking to you, and that means also talking about yourself, in the most superficial level possible. This time, though, was different. You felt as if not only you were doing that, but him too. He asked questions about you and your life, and he seemed genuinely interested in what you told him. You felt really comfortable with him, and you were excited for the rest of the day. 

“Are you done?” He asks, with a small smile. You nod and you two leave, walking side by side. 

With your eyes on him, you noticed his stance; camera in hands, always at chest level, ready to snap pictures at the slightness movement that caught his eyes. In between, while you guys walked around the city, you asked some of your prepared questions.

“What is this series about?” You ask, notebook in hand. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course…”

He chuckles. “The mundane life,” He says looking around, eyes laying on you, hair up, looking down at your notebook. Snap. You look up and he is staring at the children ahead. “I want to portray the beauty that people ignore everyday. It’s a new theme even for me, I don’t know if you are familiar with my past work but-“

“I am,” You say, smiling wide. “I love your pictures, really. They were one of the few I’ve seen that actually talked to me.”

And you could’ve melted at his smile. “Thanks!” 

He keeps talking about his work and you guys walk, and you kept hearing snap! snap! snap! but it always seemed to be when you were writing. You were a little upset that because you had to do your job, you couldn’t watch him do his, but you were sure you’d see those pictures later. 

“What I’m looking for,” He said as you two sat down on yet another coffee shop, now with the sun already gone. and a sandwich instead of breakfast in front of you. “Is for that one picture, yeah? The one that people always talk about– the one worth a thousand words. And I think I’m on the right path to find it.”

You’d definitely quote him on that one.

For three days, both of you followed a routine; meet at the coffee shop at 10AM, walk around a different neighborhood each time, have lunch, walk some more, and then talk a little more over dinner, although dinner time was reserved for you two to bond as friends and not work assignments. You grew to enjoy his company, in these past days, and enjoy your dinners even more. You found out he is a fan of Day6 and that he sometimes can look like a puppy when he smiles. You learn that he has an older sister and that being a photographer was always his dream. But Seungmin also learned new things; he got to know who much of fan you were when you accidentally mentioned on of his first famous pictures. He found out that you are allergic to cats but that you still adore them, although your dream is to one day raise a Corgi named Moose. 

As you talked, you barely noticed his hands on his phone, stealthily snapping away. You were simply too into your memories of when you would write people’s essays in college for a small fee that you barely noticed him doing his thing. Actually, this was one of the things he loved to found out the most; how immersed on an assignment you could get, that you would barely notice the world around you still spinning. Or him taking pictures of you. 

It was now the last dinner; your week over. This had been the best week of the past few months, if you had to be truthful. You would wake up energized because you finally could sleep. You would eat delicious food slowly because you finally had someone to talk to during meals. You adored your days with Seungmin. But they had finally come to an end. And you feared that so would your friendship.

————————

Dear Y/N,

I hope you haven’t forgotten me yet (it’s been only three weeks since we last saw each other.) 

I read your article about me. I loved it! You definitely painted me in a light I’ve never seen myself, but I still want to thank you for being truthful and inspiring when you talked about my work. 

I am emailing you to finally announce that my exhibition opening will be tomorrow, at 7PM at The Gallery. I hope you can make it! I organized everything so that your name will be on the VIP list with a plus one; you can bring your friend you talked so much about, she sounded fun! I hope to see you there!

Love,

Seungmin. 

“Love?” Lisa asks, as you both read the email for the fifth time. “What the-“

“Language,” You shush her. “Oh my gosh, what does he mean by that?”

“Love.” Lisa tries again. “Love love love… you guys really hit it off, didn’t you?”

“Lisa, no!” You whine, blushing intensely. “I mean… there were times when I thought we were getting closer, but after the week ended he never texted me! Not even to talk about the article, so I don;tknow what to think anymore.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” She shrugs. “Now let’s go, girly. We need to get ready for a very important event tonight.”

With the permission of your boss, you two leave early, straight to your house. On the way, you kept stressing about which dress to wear, or which shoes would match, and you’d sigh in frustration. That wasn’t you. You didn’t stress about things like this; you were cool and collected. 

It took a couple of hours and you were sure you’d make it there a little bit late, but as soon as you two were ready, Lisa having borrowed some clothes from you, you left. The taxi ride was terrible; you were so anxious that you could throw up. Something in your gut told you that tonight would be… a surprise. And you weren’t sure if that was good or bad.

“Okay, we’re at the door,” Lisa whispered smiling to the security and giving him your names. “You have to calm down. You look like you’re about to run.”

“That’s because I am!” You whispered, looking at your friend as you walked in. 

“Don’t be an enjoy the show!” She winks and walks away. 

Sighing, you start roaming around, noticing one room in particular was closed off. Some pictures on the wall made you want to laugh, because you knew that as soon as he snapped that picture, Seungmin tripped and feel on his butt. The next one made you smile fondly, watching the two kids on their bikes. The sunset gave off the perfect lighting and you could only see one hand from the right side, a worried mother that ran after her babies. You went through the exposition like that, remembering each and all moments with the photographer. Once you were done, you were a little confused. You could’ve sworn he took more pictures than that.

“Excuse me!” Seungmin called from the center of the room, his back to you and Lisa, who brought you a glass of champagne. “I’d like to say a few things tonight. First of all, thank you all for coming. It means a lot to see all my friends and family united to support me. Secondly, I wanted to talk a little about this series, and about the surprise series in the next room.”

So that’s what it was. A surprise collection. Intrigued, you listened carefully.

“For the past days I have been working endlessly to make this dream come true, and I finally did it. I managed to capture moments of the daily life that, for us spectators, don’t mean much when we see them on the street, but that printed and edited seems to mean a lot. This is a calling; please pay more attention to your daily life. Smell the flowers. Listen to children laugh. Have fun as you walk to work everyday at 6AM.”

People laugh at that. He did too, and you smiled, watching as his cheeks puffed out in pride. 

“The next room, though, was inspired on my own daily routine for the week I was taking these shots. I wasn’t alone that time; I was lucky to have an incredible companion with me, and unfortunately she doesn’t seem to be here, but you still get to see what I did for seven days straight.”

Lisa elbows you and your mouth is agape. You are sure you look like an idiot, but you couldn’t believe this. Was he talking about you?

“I promised this person that I would find what I was looking for– a picture worth a thousand words. How funny is it that she’s a writer?” People laugh yet again, but you can’t even muster breathing at this point. “And I did it. In the next room, you will see a series of shot of this person who now has turned into my muse. And in the center, the thousand words. Have fun, and thank you!”

Following the crowd before he could spot you, you enter this mysterious room, feeling lightheaded as you did. Your face was everywhere. 

A picture of you writing on your notebook, the sun hitting only half of your face. 

A picture of you sipping on your coffee while looking out the window. A thunder illuminating your face, contradicting the peacefulness you remember feeling that one stormy afternoon.

A picture on you laying on the grass, relaxing a little as he hunted more pictures.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” Lisa gasped. “How?”

“I don’t know.” And you really didn’t. How didn’t I notice this before?

And in the center, hanging from the ceiling, bigger than the others, you. Your eyes curious and wondering, arms up, putting your hair on a ponytail, and a coffee bar behind you. You had to admit, you looked ethereal; like a faraway beauty. And the name, written in small print, the picture worth a thousand words. Not ‘a picture,’ the picture. To say you were about to cry was an understatement. 

You walk away from the room, heels clicking on the ground and suddenly a deja-vu hits you; snap! snap! snap! The sound of the camera shutter echoing on your mind. 

So that’s what that was, you think, still walking, decidedly. He was taking pictures of me.

You find him talking to a waiter in another room, soon dismissing him with a wave and a smile. 

“Ya Kim Seungmin!” You call loudly, making him jump from the scare. His eyes go wide as he sees you approaching, stuttering nonsense and and pointing at you. “Are you crazy?”

And as you say that, your hands go to his chubby cheeks– the same ones you’ve been dying to squeeze– and pull his face towards you. Your mouth touches his and there is nothing smooth or delicate about it. It’s urgent, desperate almost, and you blush at the thought. He is quick to get out of his trance and to bring you closer with his hands on your waist. He slows down the kiss, leading you, coaching you. He does what he’s been wanting to do since he saw you and he entangles his hands on your hair. It takes a while for you two to separate, and when you do you hide your face on his chest, laughing lightly. His heart is beating like crazy.

“Warn a girl first,” You tease, raising your head to see his eyes shine in the way you love so much.

“Look who’s talking!” He gasps. “You just attacked me!”

“I just… had a lot to say.”

“And what was that?”

“A kiss is worth a thousand words,” You whisper in his ear, laughing as he shivers. “Didn’t you get the memo?”

“I don’t think so,” He pretends to think about it. “Do it again and see if it works.”

Laughing, you start approaching him again. Foreheads touch first. Eyes make contact. And just as your lips were about to touch you hear-

“Is that the girl from the pictures?!”

And if you could hit Lisa, you would.

[romaniassexdungeon]

The Siren Softly Sings

Pairing: AmeLiet

Warnings: Death, cannibalism, lime,

Summary: On a family holiday, Alfred's boring trek around an art gallery changes when he comes across a painting of human misery, and a man dedicated to studying it.

Notes:  This is another fic inspired by a Pogues song, this particular one based on "Wake of the Medusa" and is the first of three Baltic fics that tie in together. They'll be written... eventually. One's already started and the other's in planning stage. In the meantime, I'll probably work on other fics from my Pogues series. This fic was inspired by a song inspired by a painting based off a real sinking. The sinking in this fic is fictional, though. This one is... well, I can't go spoiling anything, but it's spoopy, enjoy!

G.A. Densen - Denmark Tomas - Lithuania Jānis - Latvia

Read on AO3

...

The guests are stood in silence, they stare and drink their wine,

On the wall the canvas hangs, frozen there in time,

They marvel at the beauty, the horror and despair,

At the wake of the Medusa, no one shed a tear,

Sit my friends and listen, put your glasses down,

Sit my friends and listen to the voices of the drowned.

...

Alfred didn’t know a lot about art, but he could honestly say that was a big painting.

He could go into further detail, say that the painting itself had further detail, that there were a lot of men crammed on that raft, and they all looked rather fragile compared to the massive storm brewing in the background, but as it were, he just took another sip of coffee and tried to look deep in thought, and not completely, utterly bored.

He glanced around as people slowly filtered in and out, none of whom were his brother. He had no idea where Matthew had wandered off to, but he wasn’t happy about being left in a creepy old gallery with a bunch of old people who looked like they’d keel over and die. They filtered in and out, but he was left alone for the most part. There was something eerie about the painting itself; maybe the twisted, pained expressions of everyone in it? How realistic they were? How they all seemed to be calling to him.  As he waited for his brother to come collect him, Alfred, shuffled off to the side to let others see the painting, deciding to read the little plaque next to it.

Wreck of the Medusa - G.A. Densen

Painted in 1800, this romantic piece depicts the sinking of the Medusa, a Danish merchant vessel run aground in the north Atlantic. After the officers and passengers were shepherded onto lifeboats, the main body of the crew was left to fend for themselves. Though some managed to cling to a makeshift raft, only one man was ever found alive.

Densen effectively and realistically conveys extreme emotion in his work, capturing the anguish of those doomed, and, for an unknown reason, painting himself into the picture (centre-right).

Alfred glanced over at the man in question, staring out at him with pleading eyes. He shuddered.

This was Densen’s final painting, finished shortly before his disappearance. No one knows what happened to him, and his body was never found.

Well, that was spooky.

“Haunting, is it not?”

Alfred jumped at the voice, and wheeled round to find the room empty, save for one assistant, standing in the corner.

“Err, yeah.” He gave a friendly smile, despite the fact that he was shaking and had gotten an actual adrenaline rush from being crept up on. “You know about it? The - err - the painting?”

The assistant nodded. “Of course. I work here.” He took a couple of steps closer, looking down at his hands and giving a melancholy sigh. He seemed nervous, like he didn’t often get the opportunity to talk to people, and that lack of practice made him scared to try. Still, his confidence was growing. Nothing was going to stop him talking about this giant-ass painting. “I have studied the Wreck of the Medusa for years now,” he appeared to be trying his best not to look too excited, but the way his voice cracked and his eyes lit up told another story, “I could tell you everything there is to know about it.”

Alfred had to admire the man’s passion. The only thing he’d been as dedicated to learn was the pokerap.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to learn about the painting, though; everything about it gave him the heebies, and then the jeebies. But he did love seeing people talk about that they were passionate about.  And the guy was cute, too. He was dressed like a librarian in a baggy brown jumper and worn tie. His hair also had a grey tinge to it, as did his skin, but he was handsome. He just needed to get out more. Catch the sun. Maybe Alfred could take him out.

“You know what? I’d love to hear it.”

The man smiled; it made his face less grey.

“Well, for starters, you read it was a Romanticism piece, right?”

“Yeah… what the hell is Romanticism? Doesn’t look very romantic. Not really into drowning dudes. But I am very much into dudes,” he added, hoping the guy would get the point. He didn't know how to say it clearer.

The guy smiled.

“I hear that a lot. Um, the not knowing about Romantic art. Oh, I did not catch your name!”

“Alfred F. Jones. I mean, I legally changed my middle name to Fortnite last year. And before that, the F stood for Franklin, though my brother says it was to pay respects when I was born. But anyway, what about you?”

The guy blinked, probably understanding about 10% of Alfred’s ramble. “I am Tomas Septys. Lovely to meet you.”

“You too, man. So, Romanticism?”

Tomas sat down on the bench in the middle of the room. Alfred joined him, leaving space between them.

“Yes, it is an art movement.” He paused, excited to continue, but scared to bore him with a ramble.

“What kind?” Alfred prompted. He knew nothing about art movements. Tomas made him want to learn more.

“It places emphasis on emotion,” said Tomas, playing with his hands, “particularly, the emotion of the artist. The idea behind that is using your imagination for your work, not really worrying about the rules. And being original.”

Alfred nodded slowly.

“Of course, Densen was using his imagination for this, having not been present when the ship sank.” He stood up, walking over to the painting. “His… his love was on the Medusa. There.” He pointed at the man next to Densen, clinging to his shirt. Alfred thought it looked pretty freaking gay, but had the sneaking suspicion many people had insisted it was platonic throughout the years. “Not many people know that, though historians have debated.”

“So you think they were in love?”

“I know they were.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “You know?”

“Densen’s private diaries were recovered recently. Someone had hidden them.” Tomas didn’t take his eyes off the painting. “Eduard Mets never came home. Densen waited months for the news. He hoped, prayed someone had picked him up. Maybe he’d washed ashore, or gotten lost.”

“That… I couldn’t even imagine going through that.” Alfred studied the painting. Densen was wailing, like his soul was silently being torn in half. He could almost hear the screams.

"I think he had to accept it, after a while. That Eduard was not coming back. I have a feeling that, after finishing this painting, he… he walked into the ocean." He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. "I mean, that is the legend, but there is always truth at the heart of a legend."

Alfred nodded, then he froze. "Wait, is this a ghost story?"

Tomas smiled. "Does that scare you?"

"Fucking yeah?"

"You can leave if you want. Walk out of the door."

Alfred thought about it. The room was darker than usual. Everyone was gone. No one had come in in a while now. He shivered.

"No, I'll stay."

"Good answer, but I am all out of time. My lunch break is over now. Can you come back tomorrow?"

Alfred looked at him. He was supposed to go look at some old buildings with Matthew. Maybe a museum or something. What the fuck was an "Old Town"?

He could blow it off.

"Yeah, sure. Same time tomorrow." He gave a smile, and left the room.

...

In the moonlight's ghostly glow, I waken in a dream,

Once more upon that raft I stand, upon a raging sea,

In my ears the moans and screams of the dying ring,

Somewhere in the darkness, the siren softly sings,

Out there in the waves she stands and smiling there she calls,

As the lightning cracks the sky, the wind begins to howl.

...

True to his promise, Alfred was back in front of the painting, and Tomas was waiting for him on the other side of the room.

“Hey, how you been?”

Tomas smiled at him. “Looking forward to seeing you. I did not know if you would be true to your word, I must confess.”

“Hey, man, I said I’d be here. You’re cute and I only got a few days left to see you.” He blushed at that. How would Tomas take it? People assumed he was good at flirting, because he looked like a Chad, but Alfred had no idea what he was doing. He often didn’t.

Tomas looked at his shoes, smiling to himself. “We must make the most of our waning time.”

Alfred glanced at the painting, then back to Tomas. “I guess you wanna talk about it some more?”

Tomas nodded. “You will not, truly, understand the painting, until we talk about the individualism.”

“The what?”

“You need to know the story of the men here. The individual men.”

“You know the names of all the men in the painting?” That was dedication.

“Some. We could not find out about every man. But Eduard and his two friends, Toris Laurinaitis and Jānis Garais,” he pointed them out, "we know about them."

“Toris has your hair,” Alfred noted.

“I get that a lot.”

“Tell me about him.”

“He was a thoughtful man, a Lithuanian sailor who travelled the world, and ended up in Copenhagen at the wrong time. Got work on the Medusa with his friends, trading on the Gold Coast and hoping to come back with… gold, funny enough.”

Alfred nodded.

“No voyage was easy back in those days, but the risk brought reward, and I imagine the three were looking forward to getting a decent pay. Or… maybe not. Maybe promotion, something more stable. I do not know.”

“But the ship sank?”

Tomas nodded. “A few weeks in, a storm hit the North Atlantic and the ship ran aground.”

“The one in the painting?”

“Yes, the one in the painting.” Tomas looked at the painting. It dominated the room, seemingly growing as Alfred stared. He swore it was moving: clouds fuzzing around the edges, sea rolling ever so slowly. But every time he tried to remember where a wave had been before, he couldn’t. The painting had always been like that.

“The few passengers the ship had were loaded onto boats. And the senior crew. The rich, important people on the ship. There were few lifeboats. Little row boats that would barely survive the storm, but it was better than a doomed ship. The crew, the disposable members… no one particularly cared what happened to them.”

“That’s… wow.” He couldn’t bring himself to be surprised, but it still made his stomach sink. “Were they… did they…”

“The three friends, well, they had always stuck together, and they would, no matter what.” Tomas rubbed his shoulder. “What happened next… it shook Europe to its core.”

“What happened?”

“That, my friend, is a story for tomorrow.”

“Are you for real?” Alfred groaned, “did you just IRL clickbait a Goddamn painting?”

“I have no idea what you just said, but please ?” asked Tomas, “for me?” He smiled sheepishly; Alfred’s protest caught in his throat. “I have to get back to work, but…” He looked at the painting, “their story needs to be told.” His voice cracked.

“I’ll come back. I promise.” Alfred reached over and squeezed his hand.

“You are so warm,” Tomas commented. “You know, you can meet me after the museum closes. Stay behind… there is a cupboard you can hide in. People sneak in there all the time.” He blushed at that. Deeply.

“Oh I’ll be there.” Alfred was blushing too. “You’ll find me in there. In the cupboard. In the dark.”

...

The architects of our doom, around their tables sit,

And in their thrones of power, condemn those they've cast adrift,

Echoes down the city street, their harpies laughter rings,

Waiting for the curtain call, oblivious in the wings.

...

The gallery was silent. Even the security guards had forgotten to come to work, had forgotten to set alarms. They usually did when something was about to happen.

Despite the shattering silence, Tomas made no sound as he walked past his painting. The sun was setting through the dusty windows, gold sinking, to be replaced by grey. He wondered if Alfred had been true to his word; he’d not seen him about the gallery.

He walked on, slowly and deliberately towards their meeting place.

Tomas actually giggled as Alfred dragged him into the cupboard, kissing all over his neck.  “Yo, how many spiders do you think are in here?” he laughed, hands on Tomas’s arms.

“Just ignore them.” He smiled at him, even if Alfred couldn't see it. "It will be okay. Just focus on me. Nothing but me."

"I can do that." Alfred kissed where the thought Tomas's nose would be. He landed on a cheek.

Tomas returned the kiss, tasting the sugar on his lips. "Just for tonight, let me be your world."

...

The casket is empty, abandon ye all hope,

They ran off with the money, and left us with the rope.

...

Tomas breathed against Alfred’s chest, clinging to the warmth and rush of blood and Alfred’s ragged breathing. It had been lonely, wandering about the gallery; he missed the touch of another person.

“I’m really gonna miss you,” Alfred whispered in his ear, shirt crumpled on the floor, trousers bunched at his knees. Tomas nodded. He let Alfred play with his hair, feeling the man tuck it behind his ears and kiss his forehead. He almost wept at the tenderness.

“Do you have to go?” he whispered back.

“Yeah. My plane’s tomorrow.” He pulled away to plaster his clothes back on him. Tomas sighed and pulled up his trousers; he hadn’t done anything like that in a while.

In a rare moment of spontaneity, Tomas stepped forward and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around Alfred’s waist, squeezing him. He couldn’t let him go.

Alfred stopped buttoning his shirt to hug him back. “I know, babe. Look, how about we go in the gallery, you tell me about the painting, and we come back here and hide away til the morning?”

Tomas smiled. “I’d like that. Come on,” he straightened his jumper, “time to finish my story.”

He took Alfred’s hand and guided him through the darkness, through long corridors with ceilings lost in the gloom, to the room he knew so well. In the feeble moonlight, the painting looked alive. Alfred shivered.

For a long moment, Tomas said nothing. He stared up at the painting, willing himself to go on.

“So, you gonna tell me what happened?” Alfred looked at him, “to these three friends?”

Tomas nodded.

“You gonna tell me why you made me stay behind? This place is creeping me out, man.”

Tomas took his hand. “Are you scared?”

“What? Nah! Of course not! I- yeah, this is pretty scary. I’m not scared, just… uneasy.”

“I see. Fascinating.”

“Tomas, please-”

“So impatient. The three floated on their raft for a week, hoping and praying that someone would find them. They survived on rainwater, taunted by the ocean surrounding them. So refreshing to hear, but would kill them if they drank.” Tomas gave him a sorrowful smile. “No ships came. There was nothing to eat. Not for the first week, at least.”

“Oh, did they get some fish? A seagull?” suggested Alfred. Tomas almost laughed at his optimism.

“Jānis was smaller than the other two. Weaker. He was the first to succumb to his hunger, and on the seventh day, his friends woke up to find his corpse.”

Alfred winced, finding Jānis among the other faces in the painting. He looked so young, barely a man, with a round face and golden curls.

“That must’ve been horrible,” he agreed.

“Then, his friends succumbed to their hunger, in a different way.” Tomas shrugged. “Jānis’s emaciated body hardly counted as fresh meat, but it was a source of food.”

Alfred wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You mean they ate their friend ?”

“They did not mean to!”

“How do you not mean to eat someone?”

“There was no other way!”

“Woah, why you getting so emotional about it? I’m not saying I blame them, just that it’s a bit gross.”

“Please,” Tomas looked at him, face lined with fear, “we were starving! There was nothing that could be done for Jānis, but maybe, Eduard and I-”

Alfred looked at him. “Woah, woah, wait, do you think you’re the guy in the painting?”

Tomas grimaced, glancing at the exit. “Can you keep a secret?" Alfred nodded. "I am the guy in the painting. I am Toris.”

“Oh come on, man, you need to get outta the gallery more.”

“I cannot leave this place,” said Tomas, quietly.

“Whatever!” Alfred turned to walk out. He was done with this, with Tomas and his secrets and hiding things, and now he was trying to tell him-

The doors slammed in his face.

Tomas stood behind him, hands out, his mouth strained.

“You may leave,” he whispered, “once I have finished my story.”

Alfred shrank away. He rattled the doorknob, but it was stuck fast. “Let me go!”

“Alfred,” Tomas held his hands up, “I promise, I will set you free the moment I have finished my story.”

Alfred growled and kicked the door, quickly giving up. “Fine! Tell me what happened to you, Ghost Boy!”

“A ghost? Huh…” Tomas scratched at his shoulder, “a restless spirit… yes, I suppose I am.”

Alfred, though nothing terrified him more than the supernatural, took a step forward. Then another, and another. He thought about slamming him against the wall, but didn't want to see what this restless spirit could do.

And, on a slightly related note, what exactly had he just nut in? Was his jizz actually on the cupboard wall? He could ask about that later, maybe.

“What. Happened,” he growled, speaking slowly, “Tomas, Toris, whoever you are, tell me what happened.”

“We were found, a few weeks later,” Tomas took a step back, climbing over the rope barrier and pressing himself against the painting. His own face silently wailed next to him. “Well, I was. As for Eduard…”

“ Yes ?”

“Bones. Picked clean. And blood caked on my chin. It was obvious to see what happened.” Tomas stared at his friend in the painting.

“They said I was a monster,” he whimpered, “I was hanged for my crimes, tortured for no other reason than disgust. The people who left me on that raft got away with it, but I was killed for trying to survive.” He looked at Alfred. “I am no monster.”

“I mean, dude, I’d count ghosts as monsters,” Alfred shrugged, “and eating people is messed up…”

“You have my word, I slaughtered no one. All I did was outlive them. Do you trust me?”

“What the hell kinda question is that? I mean, you’re a cannibal who’s had my dick in your mouth, so you can’t be all bad, but… man, this is too freaky. I gotta go. Think about stuff.”

He turned to leave. Tomas didn’t move.

“Hey, come on, open the doors!”

Tomas gave a whimper. “Please… please stay. I cannot be alone.”

Alfred paused. This was stupid; either Tomas - Toris - was playing some messed-up joke on him, or he was talking to an actual, real ghost. Either way, every instinct told him not to stick around.

“Fine,” he sighed, “I’ll stay.” Why was he so stupid?

“You will not leave?”

“I- I won’t.”

Toris stepped forward and took his arm. In the shadows, he seemed to shift, shrugging off his stuffy librarian’s outfit. His shirt shimmered in the faint gasps of moonlight, pure white and seemingly floating. His face hollowed, eyes wild, a trapped animal. When Alfred looked at his hand, it was bones held together with skin. Though Toris looked like a zombie, the sight was too pitiful to send him running.

“You will stay with me?”

Alfred gulped. He nodded.

“You, my love, are a fool.”

...

Matthew had been looking for his brother, the next morning when he didn’t return home. He knew Alfred had been obsessed with the gallery, taking an interest in another country’s culture for the first time ever. He’d forgone the beach, the club, even the theme park to come back here. It would’ve been a nice surprise, had it not taken over his entire life.

Alfred couldn’t be convinced, and now he was gone. Matthew walked as fast as he could, through the many little rooms with humanity’s history in paintings, past tourists and old people, past security guards who paid him no mind, past-

Matthew stopped. There was no need to rush.

He looked at the nearest painting, one of a girl and her dog. She was sat on her swing, in the back garden of a cottage. Her dog seemed to be chasing her as she swung, a playful movement to his tail. He liked the lighting in it, but didn’t know much about paintings to comment further.

He moved on.

The place was nice, and he’d happily spend a day here, but he needed to catch his flight later that afternoon. The sun warmed his face as he passed windows twice his height, but the next room he entered - off to the side - was cool and dark.

There was one painting.

It took up most of the wall, a scene of misery stretched out before him. The twisted pain in the faces of the sailors clinging to a raft, spilling into the sea and splashing wildly, reaching out to grab at their comrades.

In the background, a storm raged, destroying what was left of the ship, thrown about like the broken carcass of an insect.

In the foreground, among other terrified sailors, was a man who jolted something in Matthew’s mind. There was something familiar about him. They looked super similar, and Matthew smiled. It was nice to find your doppelganger in a painting.

There was a sense of loss too, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

A voice spoke up behind him, so sudden it made him jump.

“Haunting, is it not?”