#the photos oversaturate it a little actually

[lonepower]

the other roses i ordered finally came in! it was a very wet day planting them but the warmth was nice. they don't smell as strongly as stabitha does but I'm obsessed with that color

[jeonwonwoo]

— what’s up guys 😭 i just wanted to share my own little two cents on some colouring trends i’ve seen lately (particularly for kpop gifs!) which includes really distorted pink/red hues for skintones or oversaturated yellows so maybe i could give some tips that also helped me in the past!!

and of course because i love to talk a lot — this is a very long and image heavy tutorial...

❓ why is it an issue? i think its a very clear given that whitewashing is wrong and problematic for a vast number of reasons (with a history steeped in colourism and racism) and how there’s no excuse for changing the skintone of a person-of-colour.

— but with that said i want to make it clear that this is not an accusatory post! i’m not jumping on any one content creator or tumblr user to call them racist or colourist or a bigot 😭 and i don’t want to accuse anyone of having bad intentions with their gifs or images that they post! i really just want this to be a helpful post for anyone who is struggling to colour their gifs properly and more of a learning step instead of a call-out! 

however pink-washing (i’m aware there is another definition for this term but i’m referring to washing out a skintone to make it red-pink) and yellow-washing are equally as wrong! and they are also easily avoidable!! 

in the past it was a commonly held (and incorrect) belief that european people (a term i’m going to use broadly for non-poc) had a ‘fair’ and ‘pink’ undertone to their skin [and it was an encouraged beauty standard to try and emulate that fair pale pink skin] while asian people (particularly east asian ethnicities) had ‘yellow’ skin (as seen in racist caricatures and a plethora of terrible and outdated race theories).

thus pink-washing and yellow-washing both embrace two extreme ends of the scale and it’s simply better and more respectful to try and maintain the skintone of the idol in your gifs! there are deeper contextual explanations of this if you would like to learn more!

❓ identifying pink/yellow gifs

let’s start with recognising what colouring is a no-go ❌ if you’re a gifmaker you’re probably fighting a battle on two fronts — against the whitewashing music shows and then the struggle to restore skin colour without turning the dial up so much that you’ve changed their entire skintone.

for this example below i found a kpop psd posted recently (in the past few months actually) and applied it to a basic bright-lighting sort of facecam. 

the original facecam has no heavy stage lighting (as stages can often have really strong red or pink lights that also darken the colours) so it’s an easy one to follow along with.

the gif on the left has only a basic curves layer while the gif on the right has the added kpop psd on it. it’s a very stark difference in jungwon’s skintone and i would definitely classify this as an unnatural skin tone.

following a selective colour layer (to subtly increase the warm tones of his skin) / a photo filter (to counter the pale blue sort of lighting) and a colour balance - we can end up with a product like this.

now of course, this is only a very simple sort of colouring. and everyone has different colouring styles so you can go bonkers with all the colour manipulation for the blues and greens and purples as you like!

but what if the stage is just naturally red? 

may i introduce you to the dreaded seventeen stages during face the sun era then 😭

as you can see there is already a very heavy sort of pink-red cast on his skin (that only gradually got worse as the stage started because of those damn lights and shadows 😭) but we can easily work around them!

so here’s our stage lighting with no adjustments 

and now even though we got rid of the pink-tone it’s been replaced with a very strong yellow. (you might think i’m exaggerating out here but there are unfortunately a mite too many gifs like this). jeonghan’s skin (not to mention the members in the back) have been dialled up to a wasp yellow.

and unfortunately (at least in my experiences) there have been quite a few of the below instances (especially for this stage) so ultimately it is all about finding the right balance between getting rid of the harsh, unsaturated lighting while also bringing back warmth to the skintone while ALSO not giving the idols a spray-tan.

❓ so what can i do?

well i’m glad you asked! let’s go back to the jeonghan example we just used. here’s the stage gif once more without any adjustments or layers.

now i’ll add a simple curves layer (to even out the general lighting) and we end up with this. it’s obviously much better. the red-brown cast has no become darker creating a greater contrast with jeonghan’s skintone versus his black and white outfit! it’s a nicer gif overall but i want to bring out his skintone ever so slightly to make up for the harsh white lights on the highlights of his face.

i added another selective colour layer (increasing the reds with the cyan slider and then the black slider while also pushing on the yellow slider as well) and a gradient map (fading from black to orange and set to soft light at a 20% opacity)! and this is my final result!

❓ tips and tricks

— colour balance is your best friend! if a gif seems too blue (and hence giving your subject a pale purple-red sort of look) bring back the slider to the yellow side. or vice versa. it often sorts out all the little hiccups that a curves layer might have provided. — create layer masks to compare skin colour. it’s always useful to just have a little circle where you can see the skintone before and afters! — don’t just rely on selective colour to bring colour back into skin. this is where i find that i often trip up to overcompensate for whitewashing. a gradient map works wonders if set at the right opacity and you can adjust the skin colours minutely afterwards! — this might seem like a reduntant theme but it’s more than okay to ask for help! even i’ve found that i struggle with colouring a gif right and it’s better to get two or three heads in the game than one 😭

there is no one method or psd that will automatically graces oneself with perfect and correct colouring but it’s a matter of practice and figuring out what methods works for you!

i’d take a look at these very helpful tutorials! how to colour east/south-east asian celebrities how to fix orange-washed characters

[brightgnosis]

The Generic Green (vs) The Cultivated Wilds (vs) The True Wilds, and Why People Don't Really "Like Nature" Like They Say They Do

“I love nature. I worship the Earth and the natural cycles�� they say.

Meanwhile: Everything they do, right down to their holiday cycle, is based on an ecosystem and climate on another continent entirely, in a country they’ve never actually visited or ever lived in- and from another century not even remotely like our own, no less; they know nothing about their local ecoregion or microregion, let alone their own agricultural or pastoral culture (past or present, any of it); and the vast majority of them have little to no legitimate experience anywhere outside of a city.

In other words: I’ve found that most people don’t really “like nature” like they claim to … They like the generic green- and that’s not at all the same thing.

ETA: People frequently don't understand what I mean when I say “the Generic Green”- and that’s fair. But stuff like “Houseplants” are about as far from what I’m talking about as a bird is from a bee; similar form, but a completely different and frequently unrelated function- and an entirely different role to play.

When I say “the Generic Green”, what I’m talking about is people’s perceptions of nature revolving around the concept of the cultivated wilds. Specifically around an overly generic and romanticized idea of what “nature” and “wilderness” looks like, peddled predominantly by eco-spirituality books, and repeatedly perpetuated by people who’ve never actually stepped a single foot into a truly wild space.

The Holy Wild is honestly a great example of a shitty eco-spirituality book that perpetuates the hyper-romanticization of the Wild by people who don’t know what they’re talking about on any level … Though it is a slightly more extreme example of what I’m talking about, compared to what most people do and / or believe.

“The Generic Green” is essentially the equivalent of a stock photo of nature; a highly fictionalized and romanticized idea of a single highly localized type of nature, widely spread about as the epitomical image of what untouched nature looks like in its purest state. One which people latch onto and uphold as “nature” regardless of their own location or relative experience with any particular ecosystem.

It's a romanticization of ecosystems, and their various components, that the individual will never actually experience, because they’re not theirs and do not actually exist in relation to them; in the vast majority of cases they have zero relationship to it what-so-ever, and never will ... It's a landscape which exists, certainly, in a real corner of the world (or, at least, may have at one point in Human history). But for the vast majority of people? It will never be anything more than fiction for them. And yet still, somehow, it is upheld as the ultimate ideal that everyone aspires to create nature in the image of.

Whether we like to acknowledge it or not, this image- this stock photo- is heavily entertwined with white racism, white supremacy, and white colonialism. And eventually this is something we will also have to recon with as well.

The problem comes, largely, in that people interested in the Generic Green rarely ever actually step outside of that stock photo to get a legitimate look at the nature which exists directly around and in relation to them; they can’t identify a single tree of their own (though they might be able to identify a couple common flowers, or a couple common birds- that capability is usually by sheer luck and oversaturation, however). They don’t know what their Ecoregions are, let alone what Bioregion they’re a part of. They’ve never volunteered with any sort of wildlife services, or visited an open-boundary reserve. They have no idea what animals are native to their area, or what their habits are; etc, etc, etc.

That’s not to say that any or all of this is required to claim you “like nature”, mind you.  You don’t have to know any of this to claim you “like nature”. You just have to be properly aware of what nature actually is ... And it’s pretty safe to say that you don’t actually like "nature" nearly as much as you think you do if your idea of nature is basically a stock photograph; if you've never really experienced the real thing beneath your feet or put a foot into proper nature to begin with, in any actual capacity.

If that’s the case, you don’t actually like nature itself ... What you like, arguably, is the idea of it (a very specific, highly factionalized and romanticized, ultimately colonialist idea of it, at that). And that’s really, genuinely, not at all the same thing in the slightest.

ETA: I think some people have the mistaken idea that, because I’ve spoken about the differences between the “Generic Green”, the “Cultivated Green”, the “Cultivated Wilds”, and the “True Wilds” (and the weird hypocrisy of modern Paganism in regards to nature and the misrepresentation of their connection to it in light of those differences) ... That I’m some kind of a purist snob who thinks that the True Wilds are superior or something.

That isn’t the case. I’m not opposed to the Cultivated Green at all ... I'm literally a Master Gardener, and my very first Plant Spirit Ally was the Peony. My second was the Rose. Both are plants that’re very much cultivated to the point that hardly any of us have ever seen a genuinely wild cultivar, let alone see them as anything other than Ornamentals (though the Rose has retained significantly more of its metaphysical and medicinal history than the Peony has).

I am opposed to the Generic Green on some specific levels. But the Generic Green, to me, is still an okay starting place- an acceptable enough gateway- for people to initially step into “nature” through; to pique your initial interest in actually getting to know the natural world around you ... But it's one that should, ideally, eventually be discarded as one progresses; it's not something that should be held onto, or allowed to form one's entire idea or image of nature and what it's meant to look like, how it's meant to function, etc.

There’s also a lot to be said about the Generic Green itself, and its overall development and meaning. Additionally, there's a lot to be said for the irony and hypocrisy inherent in Paganism’s latching onto the Generic Green in particular and never actually letting go of it — or, if it does let go of it, trading it out for what is arguably a misrepresentation of the Cultivated Wilds instead (and, in turn, incorrectly positioning the Cultivated Wilds as the True Wilds when they're far from it). Likewise, there needs to be open discussion about the misunderstandings and misperceptions, and the blatant misrepresentations, of the True Wilds as a whole- especially by those who’ve never actually experienced them in the first place. And all of these discussions must be frank and deeply self reflective.

But it’s genuinely not that I uphold one as any more superior than the other, or think of any as inferior. The Cultivated Green, Cultivated Wilds, and True Wilds all not only have their own place in the everyday landscape and ecosystem, but also in spirituality in general. However: If you want to claim a spiritual connection to and emphasis on nature? Then you do need to understand these distinctions and what they mean not only for yourself, but also for your practice- and you need to know when you’re properly operating in one over the other.

Relevant and related tangent, here

This account is run by a Dual Faith «(Converting) Masorti Jew + Traditional NeoWiccan» & «Ancestral Folk Magic Practitioner» with 20+ years of experience as a practicing Pagan and Witch. If that bothers you, don't interact.

[upagainstthesunset]

Sometimes i think about who would play Metron in a movie. I'd love to hear from other Fourth World fans who they'd pick. My own thoughts (and images) under the cut.

[ID: Headshot of Paul Bettany. /END]

A lot of suggestions I've seen online include Paul Bettany, which i assume is bc he's already played Vision in the MCU and this would be another character that is slender and technology adjacent. But imo we've seen that already, and to be totally honest i dont think he'd be the right fit. Metron has a roughness and abruptness about him, and shouldn't give off the feeling of "gentleman" that Bettany so naturally does. But i have to admit that he does have the right look.

[ID: Headshot of Michael Emerson with fingers steepled. END\]

Another suggestion I've seen is Michael Emerson, who has played several weird little guys, often with high intelligence. Im not convinced though. I think maybe he's too far on the nerdy spectrum looks-wise? He's a fantastic character actor and i know his performance would be good, but he doesn't strike me as a "god", and thats important. When we see an ensemble photo of Highfather, Orion, Lightray, Scott, Barda and Metron, he needs to look right at home. Plus, Metron does have some strength to him, he isn't just brains yknow. It's a maybe, it's a maybe.

[ID: Headshot of Tom Hiddleston. /END]

When i first went looking up what fan casts people had in mind, i was afraid that I'd come across Tom Hiddleston, but if i recall correctly, i dont think i did? It makes me angry that he actually would not be a bad choice. Do you understand what im saying? Im annoyed. I dont want to include him in this list but i think i have to. He has the ability to give some intense looks, would be able to balance the character's personality traits (including a detached smarminess), and his popularity as an actor would make Metron a more popular character. But that's the monkey's paw curse right?idk if i could stomach the swaths of movies-only fans that he'd bring in. Also Hiddleston is already Loki in many people's eyes, and bc of that may end up being instructed to play Metron much more trickstery than he is. So even though i know it'd be an entertaining portrayal, im gonna have to pass.

[ID: Headshot of Mark Strong. /End]

So my go-to choice is Mark Strong. He definitely has the look. Like when i picture Metron in my head, Strong matches that more than any of the others. Ive seen very little of his filmography but i liked him in Kingsman and I think he'd be able to have some fun with the character. Also he isn't so popular already as to oversaturate people with his presence or have preconceived notions about the kind of character he'd portray. And i know this completely subjective but... I think this guy is just plain better looking than the others.

In conclusion, it seems the look of the actor should be slender with an angular face and preferably piercing eyes. He needs to look intelligent and serious, but as we know, he needs to be able to convey hubris and be someone we can laugh at (at Metron's expense of course). There are things i like and dislike about the casting choice for each of the actors mentioned here, but to be totally real with you I'd be fine with any of them. So for now I'll keep thinking over what the perfect cast would be, knowing we may never see Metron brought to the big screen. And i think the real takeaway is that maybe thats a good thing.

[snifflesthemouse]

In Other Words seemed to be the best title for this...

Hello, my lovely readers and friends!

This author sure hopes this post finds you all much better than it found me when I started writing it. Nothing is seriously wrong at home, in the real world, right now. It’s just that I had to actually watch these first three episodes for me to really be able to speak on them from my perspective.

Since there is SO much to unpack, digest, and consider, this author has decided to do a post per episode to really give them each the attention they all deserve. There are things in there I saw that many probably never thought to look and see. There are things I overlooked, too. Which goes back to the first paragraph.

I find it interesting that none of the episodes on the series have titles. I guess Meghan and Harry are the only ones allowed to have titles over at Netflix? Meghan and Harry used very precise days to make the focus all about them, and yet again we all fell for it. But, as we grow sicker and more tired of these two, I know that soon, it will all be over for them. This model cannot sustain, and they will become corsairs focused on ravaging and destroying each other next once they run out of ammo for the Royals. Even this series is “limited”. But when you have a limited subject… I am being mean, I know.

The first episode has a little summary blurb that says, verbatim, “As Harry shares the impact of a childhood in the public eye, he and Meghan reflect on the secret, early days of their unexpected romance.” So, even their blurbs and summaries reveal their hypocrisy (and their obsessions with secrets). Insert a fresh meme where Harry says being in the public destroyed his life, yet he’s actively throwing his own children in front of the camera.

We get some disclaimers from Netflix right off the rip. Before we see a person or picture, we are told that this is “a first-hand account of Harry & Meghan’s story, told with never before seen [sic] personal archive.” What that really means is Meghan and Harry have been recording for this since before they signed the deals. They were filming in March of 2020 before ever signing a deal with Netflix in September 2020.

It now makes sense why all these places just jumped into bed with these two. They had to show something of content to score these deals. It says all interviews were completed by August 2022; so, from their first date until August of 2022, they’ve been videoblogging for Netflix.

The next disclaimer says. “Members of the Royal Family declined to comment on the content within this series.” Which means they never saw it in the first place for them to ever be able to object. Right off the rip, Netflix thinks these disclaimers will be enough, and right off I know it will not be.

The first scene we get is of an airport. Everything in this series is designed to feel like a documentary and not a reality show. Meghan must’ve been the one to suggest the stock photos and the stringent music. I can hear her now telling H that the only difference between a reality show and a documentary is the soundtrack, or something awful. We then see Harry talking to the camera in March 2020, right after their final engagement. Literally, he is videoblogging his future betrayals toward his family in the Heathrow Airport.

He's recording in the airport at Windsor, speaking, as we see a ton of pictures that should be new to us… but aren’t. The thing is with Harry and Meghan, they forget about saturation. We are so tired of hearing about them, and we’ve seen so much of them, that these new photos are not that special.

But, yet, Netflix paid quite a bit to oversaturate them some more. They start us out with Harry and Meghan apart, during the end of Megxit. She’s in Vancouver, and he’s in London. They claim that the media, the institution, and only they know the full truth. Except, is that really true, Harry? It’s not, is it?

I mean come on now, they have told us their story via Funding Freedom, Oprah, Ellen, James Corden, Gayle King, Dax Shephard, Meghan Markle Podcaster, Harry Markle Movie Douche, and that’s not even touching all the “five friends” they have on social media pretending to care. We know everything about their story.

WELL… Until they started telling it. Because everything is different now. Before, H asked M to marry him while they were roasting chicken. We even thought they were playing us a fool and using urban lingo, remember? But, no, sadly that’s all wrong. So is how they met, who Meghan was dating and living with at the time, and all the rest.

Once we get the couple together, well. It finally gets interesting. Harry watches Meghan watch a video of herself answering the “Prince Harry or Prince William who’d you rather?” and her acting like she didn’t care. H looked as if they never saw that clip, because you could tell he was upset with how she replied.

If you feel like this post is all over the place, it is. I am writing this as the documentary plays. This hopping around from them leaving to them meeting to them “sacrificing everything for each other” has all been touched on in the first five minutes. This author wanted to show you, exactly, what a hot mess this is all.

Essentially, this limited series is a “well here, this should suffice right?” that Netflix put together after they learned who Harry and Meghan really are. If you really look, it almost seems as if Netflix is getting revenge on them. Netflix will get that money either way; people like me have to watch this stuff, right? That, or they’re seriously that simple and that self-absorbed. But then again, I am different.

Maybe that will work out since everything in this documentary is different about H and M, too. Harry says “a friend of ours” suggested they video diary the whole process. At one point, we even hear Meghan try to cop it off and say “we keep talking about it… it may not make sense now, but it will one day” or some nonsense. In other words, Netflix said if you want this deal, you need to record something of substance and bring it to us before we’ll greenlight you and pay you.

I bet every rumor of Meghan filming Catherine’s and William’s kids at Kensington Palace were true. But, before I can even think about that, I get interrupted with Megahn coming in with her own little digs.

“The past six years of my life- books have been written about our story BY PEOPLE WE DON’T KNOW. Doesn’t it make more sense to hear our story from us?” brings us into meeting a Meghan who was intent on being single back in 2016. She failed to mention that she wasn’t single, though. Before H came, C came. Cory.

Then we get H and M together talking about meeting up for the first date. You know, the one that she ditched Piers to make. When she said they were “child-like” at first, Harry blinked three times rapidly. Before then, Meghan had just told a story about him being late. She said, “I’m not about this” and that she “couldn’t understand what could make him late”. Like how dare they be in downtown London in June, let alone how dare he be a working Royal at that time in 2016. How dare H!

Harry’s face said everything. It said “Oh really, because Meghan Markle Z list actor on the way out of her biggest gig couldn’t handle a PRINCE OF THE REALM BEING LATE a few minutes”. Everything about this relationship is broken. It will not stand. You see, both of them are using each other.

I’ve said from the beginning that I believe Harry is using Meghan as a way to get back at his father. I have also said from day one that Meghan was using Harry, too. But this isn’t a symbiotic relationship because neither really care about the other in a way where they both actually benefit healthily from the relationship.

At one point, Harry gets irate over Meghan mentioning that Harry had a list of what he looked for in a woman. He even said he wouldn’t talk about the list. He then made a joke that Meghan was the list, and the producer said it was a good answer. It was a copout. He was lying about everything he told her. He had a list, yes, but it wasn’t all her. She was the only one willing to act out the parts he wanted most.

When the show isn’t Harry and Meghan rewriting their own love story (again), they show very personal home videos of King Charles being a loving father. He even says his childhood was filled with joy, laughter, adventure, and happiness. But nothing we see is really more than an extension of what’s been out there forever now already. At the core, this whole thing makes Netflix very rich, those two looking very badly, and The Royals are attacked.

One revealing thing is how little Harry, as a boy, would make his own binoculars out of cardboard to look back at the press. Something tells me that his mother put him up to it. This is where the show goes in the “invasive paps and press” stage. He tells us that he was taught not to feed into it. There is a reason for not feeding into it, H. It stops it dead in its tracks. For example, if we all stopped talking about them or looking their way, they’d not matter and would have no other choice but to go away quietly.

This first episode continues on and on for what feels like too long. We get James Holt using that iconic, nasal British voice you get on the American made documentaries. And then it hits me. They must’ve edited it AFTER the Queen died, at least some. The interviews stopped in August of 2022, but they have the Queen marked as dying in 2022 when they show the Royal Family Tree. She died in September. If they could edit her death in, why not edit that scene where Meghan mocks the monarchy, UK tradition, and her husband’s dead grandmother out to save face?

Overall, save your time. This isn’t’ a documentary. It’s not reality television either. It’s Meghan and Harry complaining and lying, peppered with some Republicanism. We get several situations that are uncomfortable, and we get to see just how dysfunctional, controlling, manipulative, and vindictive Harry and Meghan are with each other.

You guys think they’re horrid now working together? Wait until they turn that vitriol on each other…

Oh, and the fact that Harry showed the clips of his mother in the Panorama complaining about being photographed so much, only for them to use photos of the press at Harry Potter to “replicate” how H is his mom again… rich. He said his mother was only alone after the divorce. So… in other words H… THE ROYAL FAMILY protected her. If she wasn’t alone until the divorce, that says she was respected and protected until she left. So, how could the Royal Family be responsible for your mother dying at the hands of a drunk driver and choosing to go sans seat belt H?

I’m whole-heartedly convinced this is planned and orchestrated from way back when. Like H is the real hunter here and M is the one really getting hunted. He saw a fame hungry monster and decided she would do. The more Meghan and Harry reveal who they are, the more they will prove us all right. Hang in there, guys. Listen, there is literally like thirty more minutes left at this point, and I just cannot anymore. But… now we get to see the recap of Diana’s death.

All I can say is Harry has been pretending to be Harry the Prince on camera for his whole life. He was trained by one of the best manipulative mommas ever, only to marry a hack who can’t do the manipulation part genuinely, without being caught. There is a reason none of their real friends made it into the series. He’s not spiraling people, he’s been planning this. He figured it out shortly after his mom died, at Eton. He figured it out then, that he could rattle cages. Episode One: Harry is his mother.

Oh, and it seems like he blinks rapidly in a row when he’s lying or provoked. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s holes all over that mansion’s walls.

Sorry guys, I got to minute 49 and had to stop. My poor husband watched it, too. He says “who the hell calls their wife by the letter of their first name?” God I love him.

 

EVERYTHING THEY’VE LIED ABOUT SO FAR:

1. HOW THEY MET: First they said they met via a mutual friend. Then they say they met via Instagram.

2. They said they didn’t know the people writing the books about them. OMID?

3. She said she never googled H, but she literally tells us that she didn’t consider seeing his social media as googling him.

4. The List he had for a wife, and her being it.

5. How they got engaged: first it was roasting chicken, then it was in Africa

6. Harry and Meghan were serious when they went to Botswana; they had met only twice in person before the five-day trip.

There's more to this, I just gave up and had to get a break. I made it to 49 minutes and begged mercy. Feel free to add to the list!

[dungeonbf]

hello ancom… tell me more about you and authright…… do you do anything with the peak cap… heehee but also in general id love to know more about you two ^_^ hope youre having a lovely daaayyyyyy

HI PIPPA OMG ^_^!!!!!! i’m so happy you’re shipping with booga and tanky … literal win for me :3 rant under the cut ^_^

ANYWAYS SOO okay so authright is the literal worst — in centricide, every character is the embodiment of an ideology and .. authright is the embodiment of jewish fascism, hence the uniform with the peaked cap. (it’s actually a pilot’s cap!! it’s got a little pilot’s logo on it and stuff!) i think his peaked cap is sooo pretty, it’s my favorite part of his outfit, i want to KISS IT. i’ve briefly considered getting a similar pilot’s cap for my centricide collection (a lot of clothing for centricide characters is available on amazon, conveniently enough!), along with tankie’s ushanka. maybe i will, when i start working?? but anyways, onto more stuff about authright… our dynamic is definitely enemies to lovers — I KNOWWW it’s so oversaturated and cliché but we literally hate each other. my s/i (and myself irl) is super far left and he’s super far right politically — he definitely considers me just another degenerate leftist and i consider him just another authoritarian fascist, y’know, but we’re both mutually intrigued by each other. (unrelated but i’ve considered making my ships with the other main extremists, tankie and ancap, a polyship? cuz i like when people ship the main four extremists together, i think it’s cute… the worst polycule you’ll ever meet) me and authright mainly bond over our love for violent video games (i like watching him play in silence, occasionally commenting to say how bad he is at it.)

UNPOPULAR OPINION but in canon, authright lacks a father figure, leading him to become super extreme politically and hateful, and i think my self-insert could have a positive effect on him. i think he’s really internally troubled and probably has low self-esteem and i think being truly loved and cared for could make him a much better ideology, tbh. he’d probably still be authoritarian and cringefaillame but… better, yk.

this is one of my fave photos of him, he’s so cuteeee!! and the actual worst!!! he’s canonically ashkenazi jewish and it makes me so happy, ‘cause i’m religiously jewish!!! i doubt he practices much, in terms of traditions or prayer or holiday, but still. i love him, he makes me want to throw up in a good way

[akinformation]

Page 339

and you have a “wow” feeling inside, you feel goosebumps, your thoughts are gone, and you are in the pure flow, this is an epiphany. When you move a little further, a step forward towards the truth, something flips inside. And not only will you feel it at that moment, but you will also see changes afterward. They are not that easy to see, but I can see them; I am very observant. I notice these changes every time, and I notice them now. Nothing has changed physically since we explored the territory with the radars, but psychologically, everything is so different. The feeling inside is different, and I’ll try to explain it.

We continued researching and recording, noting other places we should explore. When we discovered spots that radiated energy, we also noted how we felt inside. At this point, we had discovered three types of stones from three different locations. At one spot, the deviation was eighteen thousand negative. At another spot, it showed three thousand positive, but it may have been four thousand or more; we just didn’t have a device that could detect it.

The three stones that we collected are the ones we showed photos of to the Mystic-old man. The third stone was from a location we call “the pit” because we dug a pit there. The Mystic-old man described that stone as irradiated by something extraterrestrial or some alien trash that was thrown away. They are all visually similar, but their energetic properties are completely different. We sent them to the lab. They are actually regular stones, but they emit so much energy it is insane. I never felt so much energy flow from anything, ever. I don’t keep them at home because they are that strong. It’s so strong that if you spend too much time with them, you feel super weak and sleepy. It doesn’t mean that they absorbed your energy and power. On the contrary, this happens due to oversaturation. When we were mining those stones, one of the guys on my team said, “It is strange; first, I feel this crazy abundance of energy, and later I feel as if I’m completely sucked out and am falling asleep.” When I was teaching a meditation technique called “opening of a channel,” I said that people whose energy level is low fall asleep during meditation because a large amount of energy descends into them. They can’t handle the volume of the new energy, they don’t have control to be here and now, and they just fall asleep from oversaturation. That’s the same thing that you feel, I told him.

[cloud-9ine]

Through a Golden Lens (pt 1)

⤷ pairing - hawks x (fem) reader

⤷ fandom - bnha 

⤷ warnings - some language, hawks flirting, reader’s cynicism 

⤷ summary - reader is a bitter, overworked photographer at a hero press agency with little patience for her newly assigned muse- hawks

⤷ word count - 4.5k+

⤷ notes - i have lots of ideas so this is probably going to be a multi-part series. also new to tumblr so this might not be the best

⤷ pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6

“Mr. Hawks! Please look this way!” his heavy lidded eyes rolled to the side as another blinding flash burned through his vision. 

“You look perfect, thank you!” it was hard to smile for their benefit, but he managed. Hawks had attended countless of these events for the press. It had been exhilarating at first, with the rush of adrenaline from the cameras and the lights and the endless stream of compliments solidifying his place in the public eye.

Nowadays, it was less thrilling. After a while, they all seemed the same- each one blurring into a senseless flare of cameras and hollow accolades.

He was bored, to say the least.

“Mr Hawks, would you like to come and see? I’d love to hear your opinion on this set!” with a practiced, easy smirk he nodded. It was easier to pander to the artist than to criticise their work. 

He looked good, but when did he not? The shoots were easy to glide through. All he had to do was pull a boyish grin, ‘make love to the camera’ as the photographers always liked to spout. It didn’t really matter what he did: the public would eat up anything with his face slapped on to the front. They all looked the same to him, anyway.

“Looks good,” he wondered why people were so easily satiated by shallow praises, but as he stared at the younger lady’s blush, he couldn’t help but realise that maybe it was him who had something to do with it.

Hawks couldn’t help his gaze from drifting to the door. His skin prickled in the humidity of all the moving bodies in one enclosed space and he longed to take a step outside and stretch his wings in a way that wasn’t to pose for a magazine. 

For a moment, he felt like his prayers had been answered when the door opened, letting in a stream of natural light to breach the artificiality of the modelling room. 

”(L/N)! You were supposed to be here over three hours ago!” the woman in front of him exclaimed, ripping the camera away from his view and marching to the figure that appeared in the light. He blinked in surprise: this entire shoot he hadn’t heard her raise her voice above anything but a low mumble when conversing with him, and now she was positively fuming.

You stared down at your co-worker through honey-tinted shades, expression unamused.

“Yeah, and I was also supposed to be out of this job three years ago. We don’t all do what we’re supposed to, cupcake.”

For a moment, Hawks thought you were a model. Tasteful cream turtleneck tucked into heavily creased mocha skirt, caramel beret perched on your head. There were a few metal, classy looking rings wrapped around your fingers, but as far as he could see, no wedding ring. It was pretty standard style for those who worked in the arts, but somehow you wore it so well. 

Your hair was a little dishevelled, and the dark circles under your eyes combined with the coffee cup in your hand were obvious signs of a rough night. His eyes locked on to the loopy black handwriting on the brown band around the cup.

(L/N) (Y/N)

You were no model, but Hawks couldn’t see the difference.

His wings beat lightly behind his back as he glided over, weaving through the other photographers and models scattered around the area. 

“Hey there, I’m Hawks,” he said smoothly, voice saccharine as he spoke to you. Your attention turned to him as you glanced at him from above the frames of your sunglasses, seemingly unimpressed.

“This the new boytoy, Mizuki?” you asked, eyes raking up and down his figure. Hawks was never one to shy away from the gaze of others, but the way you were inspecting him made him feel so exposed.

“Show some respect,” Mizuki muttered, voice lowered at Hawks’ presence but glare still piercing. You sighed, sparing one last glance at Hawks before snatching the camera out of Mizuki’s hands, leaving her scrambling for the device as you walked away.

“Lemme see what you’ve got already,” Mizuki’s face grew red, half from anger towards you, and half because of the embarrassment of being diminished in front of Hawks.

“(L/N) y-you can’t just come in three hours late and take over! I’ve already done the shoot and Hawks has already expressed that he is pleased with the outcome,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes and shooting the shorter woman a glare over your shoulder.

“There’s no way you’re gonna force me to come into work and make me sit here doing nothing,” you sneered, waving the camera around almost teasingly, “you wanted someone actually skilled to do this shoot, and here I am. Let me do my thing,” without waiting for a response, you left, thumb fumbling with the dial that allowed you to scroll through the photos.

Hawks was impressed. You hadn’t bat an eye when you saw him, and while you were very clearly very late, you were confident in your skills and obviously took your job seriously.

“Who was that?” he questioned, wings spreading slightly as his eyes chased after you. Mizuki bowed her head, remorse filling her expression.

“I apologise for her impertinence. That’s (L/N), she was who your original photographer was supposed to be today, but when she didn’t show up I had to take over,” she huffed, “she’s been like this for about a year now, and the boss is prepared to fire her if she keeps it up. So you’d think she’d be able to pull her at together for you, Mr. Hawks...”

After a while, Hawks tuned out her whining, eyes curiously trained on you, surveying your furrowed brows and expression pinched with annoyance as you studied the photos. Although they looked good enough to him, it appeared that you didn’t share the same sentiment. 

Hawks didn’t have time to avert his eyes when you turned your head, gaze locking on to his. You raised a slightly suspicious brow, but otherwise didn’t entertain his actions. 

“Mizuki, why would you use cool lighting?” you called over your shoulder, not even sparing the decency to turn around and face the person you were addressing. Mizuki frowned, moving to your side. Like a magnet, Hawks did the same, peering over your other shoulder. You eyed him from the corner of your vision for a second before tapping the screen. 

“What do you mean?” you sighed at your co-workers words, evidently frustrated.

“Considering you have bird boy over here in dark academia, accented in warmer yellows, using cool lights will bring out too much of a contrast. We need to match the accent colours with warmer lighting, or use a overlay,” you muttered, seemingly addressing yourself more than the two of them. Mizuki just shook her head.

“That would just oversaturate the image,” you snorted, giving her the same patronising look an adult would give a child if they tried to outsmart them.

“Not necessarily. I could spot-reduce saturation in highlight areas during editing. Or, if you really want your contrast, I could neutralise the warmer shades by using a blue, or compliment them using a red,” Hawks didn’t miss the way you said ‘I’ instead of ‘we’. Mizuki looked agitated, her frown growing deeper.

“Even so, we only have white backdrops. That would be a jarring contrast. You’d need something darker or more clustered to make it work. If you wanted a backdrop change you probably should’ve come earlier,” she spoke with a formality that obviously stemmed from Hawks next to her, but you paid no mind. You were silent for a moment, and Hawks could see your eyes narrowing as you were thinking.

“I need a natural background, huh?” you mumbled, thumbing the buttons on the camera. With a shrug, “alright, bird boy, come on, we’re leaving,” Hawks blinked in surprise as you spun on your heel, a grin breaking onto his face. Finally, he got to leave.

“Whatever you say, boss,” you shot him an irritated look.

“Don’t call me that. I’m 22, not 40,” his feathers ruffled up. “Hey, I’m also 22! What a coincidence, right?” he grinned, winking at you. You just responded by rolling your eyes.

Mizuki spluttered, trying in vain to get either one of you to stop as Hawks trailed after you.

“L-Look, you can’t just leave-” you turned, shoving the camera back into her hands, a mirthless smile on your face.

“Watch me,” your voice was cold, goading her to try and stop you, “bird boy, out, now.” Hawks didn’t have to be told twice. Some of the others whispered and muttered as they realised what was going on, but they all fell quiet when you shot them a sharp glare.

He breathed in the fresh air with a content sigh, his chest feeling lighter now he was out the cramped room. The amber glow from the late afternoon sun kissed his tanned skin as he stretched his arms above his head, his forearms flexing slightly under his dark blazer. His eyes shut in bliss and head tilted back, exposing his sharp jawline.

You eyed him slightly, eyes trailing across his features. Now that you had actually left, you were a little lost on what your plan was. You didn’t regret storming out of there, though, nor did you even consider turning back to apologise.

You took your own camera out of the dark camera bag slung across your body, careful not to scratch it on the tripod, and focused the lens on Hawks. It was smaller, a little more compact than the ones Mizuki and the others were using, but you found that it was much better suited for portrait work. 

The click of the camera shutter brought Hawks out of his stupor, eyes snapping open and immediately landing on you. Your attention had already been diverted to the screen, studying your work. 

“The modelling room is stuffy, I’ll give you that,” you mumbled, zooming in on his face, “but you can stretch while we walk,” Hawks leaned over you, eyes sparkling at the shot.

“Aw, you make me look so good, I’m flattered!” you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t be,” you took a large sip of your coffee, moving down the pathway as you thought. Hawks scrambled after you, his wings puffing out when he reached your side. You couldn’t help but gaze at the bright red feathers as he unfurled his wings, a small, happy chirping noise rumbling at the back of his throat once they were fully spread behind your back. They were warm, you noticed, feeling the heat through your turtleneck. 

Your vision was filled with a cheeky smirk painted on full lips, Hawks’ face appearing in front of your eyes. Your eyes narrowed as you sized him up.

“See something you like?” you rolled your eyes as he purred. 

“Not in the slightest, bird brain,” his wings beat behind his back, hand clutching the fabric on his chest.

“Oh, how you wound me!” Hawks cried, and you couldn’t help but smile slightly, which you quickly covered with your coffee cup. 

“I’m sure you’ll face a villain that will do greater damage than I could,” he hummed, angling his face towards the sun. 

“So, where are we headed?” you chewed on your bottom lip, slinging your camera over your shoulder. 

“It can’t be anywhere with lots of traffic, you attract a lot of attention, you know?” it was a rhetorical question, but Hawks’ chest still puffed out in pride at your words.

“Thanks, it’s because of my raging-”

“Shut up,” you cut him off, “either way, I have a pounding headache and I do not have enough shits to give to put up with your fan girls today,” with a sigh, you rubbed your temples. Hawks stared at your clenched teeth.

“Hey, why do you-” “I think I know where we can go,” he frowned.

“You know it’s not polite to interrupt people like that-”

“Sunflowers.” your tone dripped finality as you faced Hawks, a brazen determination in your eyes he hadn’t seen until now. It made his breath hitch in his throat.

Breathy chuckle escaping his lips, and eyebrows furrowed when you sped your pace, gulping down more of your coffee.

“Uh, what?” you waved a hand dismissively.

“There’s a sunflower field in Fukuroi City, I think it’s west from here,” the tiniest of grins etched onto your features, “it’s gonna be a lot more interesting than the rest of those blank background. Plus, the yellow will compliment your clothes, and with the sun low in the sky I’ll get my perfect warm lighting,” you explained. Hawks wasn’t sure exactly how much of a difference it would make, but the idea seemed charming, and it was more exciting than being perpetually flanked by a white screen.

“Sounds good,” he chirped, “although, to be honest, you could take me out anywhere and I wouldn’t mind,” you rolled your eyes. 

“That’s a shame, because I don’t intend to hang around any more than I have to,” Hawks pouted, crossing his arms.

“Come on, I wanna know more about you!” you bristled.

“Good for you.” the two of you fell into a beat of silence before Hawks smiled, undaunted.

“I’m sure I can win you over somehow,” shaking your head in disbelief, you lifted the cup to your lips, before looking down disappointedly when you realised it was empty.

“I don’t have enough coffee for this,” you muttered. Hawks’ expression brightened. 

“That’s an easy fix: your agency is around here so you must know there area pretty well,” he spoke nonchalantly, as if he was on a casual lunch date and not in the most expensive outfit you’d seen in your entire life, “what’s the best place to grab a coffee?” for a moment, you looked taken aback, before shaking your head.

“Best café in these parts is the Sunset Hour,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck, “but as much as I have no inhibitions regarding bunking off work, that’s a little too far away. I need to take this pictures before the end of the day or Mizuki’ll submit those crappy ones she took in the studio,” Hawks nodded in understanding, smile never faltering for a second.

“Well I gotta get you your caffeine fix somewhere, so what’s the second best?” your expression scrunched in thought for a moment, before you jutted a thumb over your shoulder.

“There’s a Starbucks across the road,” he snickered seeing your blank expression.

“Not exactly where I would want our first date, but I suppose it’ll do,” rolling your eyes, you shoved the empty cup to his chest, which he gripped almost instinctively. 

“Good thing this isn’t a date, then,” Hawks grinned, sending your empty cup on a feather to the nearest bin before chasing after you as you crossed the road. You didn’t spare him a single glance when he appeared at your shoulder, nor when he reached over above your head to open the Starbucks door from behind you.

“So you’re saying we can have our first date somewhere else?” with a shallow sigh, you shook your head.

“What I’m saying is that there’s not gonna be a first date. Not between us,” his chest tightened. God, you were so mean. He’d be into that.

The inside of the Starbucks was a mix between modern, western architecture and traditional Japanese woodwork. The equipment was all cutting edge, and the tables and chairs were made with a sleek mahogany, but the windows were framed with bamboo shutters, and the backroom was separated with shoji sliding doors. It was an curious blend, one that you studied with an interest. The deep, earthy scent of roasted coffee beans heavily imbued the air, filling your nose with the aroma of something far more familiar. 

Given it was the late afternoon, and most people tended not to drink caffeine after 2pm, the patrons were few and far in between. Good for you, at least. It meant you wouldn’t get- “Hawks? Sorry to bother you but can we get a picture?” your head turned at the voice that rung out.

Two high school girls stood to your left, hands clutched together in front of their chests and a dark pink coating their cheeks. With a small sigh, you took a step forward in the small queue. Hawks smiled with all the faux charm in the world, an obvious change in his demeanour as his pride spiked.

“Of course! And just as it happens, I have my personal photographer here who can make sure your photos look amazing as you two do!” it took you a moment to register what he had said through the excited squeals of the girls before he clutched your shoulders and pulled you forward, causing you to stumble slightly. 

“Your what?” he sent you an audacious smirk, willing you to play along as one of the girls handed you her phone. Your first instinct was to decline, but as you met the eyes of the girls, so eager and bright, you couldn’t find it in you to disappoint them. 

Taking a couple steps back, you lifted the phone, slightly angling it so the picture looked more natural, and not that of a celebrity and their fans (even if it was). You squinted angrily at the poor lighting, but tried to rectify it the best you could. The girls looked a little tense, but Hawks was a natural. A liberal smirk played on his lips and shoulders rolled back, relaxed. Even with the low lighting, the highlights on his cheekbone and jawline were indescribably perfect, and you weren’t sure if the credit should go to you or his god-like genes.

“Wow, that’s perfect!” one of the girls cried, her body appearing by your side. You hadn’t even noticed her moving, “thank you so much!” you just nodded, handing her back her phone and crossing your arms, eyes narrowing at Hawks.

“If that’s all, ladies, we best be ordering,” they nodded frantically at Hawks’ words, sharply bowing and spouting their thanks to the two of you countless times. They left the Starbucks, but even outside you could still hear them fawning over the picture. He faced you with a grin, but you couldn’t muster up a smile.

“Don’t go around telling people I’m your personal photographer,” you sneered. He pouted, looking genuinely disappointed for a second. “What, you don’t wanna be mine?” “Not in the slightest.” 

“What will be your order, Miss?” the barista had directed the question at you, but it was clear his attention was elsewhere. You weren’t surprised, but a small swell of annoyance grew in your mind.

“Can I have a mocha with a double shot of expresso?” Hawks chuckled.

“Might as well have an expresso, you know. You’re basically just taking a shot of caffeine,” you shrugged.

“It’s my favourite drink. I like the chocolate taste,” he looked at you with round eyes, a small squeeze in his chest.

“And you, sir?”

“Oh, I’ll have the same, then,” he didn’t miss the way your eyes darted to him. The barista nodded, tapping for a couple seconds before turning back.

“That’ll be 660 yen,” “I’m paying,” Hawks blurted, even before you could offer. You were silent, a small nod in the affirmative rocking your head. As he handed over the bills, he chuckled. “You know, not that I mind, but usually couples would argue over who’s paying,” you rolled your eyes.

“We’re not a couple,” you watched the barista prepare your drinks, more of a way to occupy yourself rather than a genuine interest, “besides, you’re a lot richer than I am. I don’t mean to be impolite, but I’m sure you can lose 600 yen and still be good,” he hummed happily.

“No disagreements there.” “Are you two eating in or taking out?” the barista asked, in the midst of securing the plastic lids to the top of the cups. Hawks’ eyes sparkled as he turned to you with an excitement you assumed only appeared in children.

“Hey, we can-” “Take out,” you responded, giving a now deflated Hawks a challenging look, “I will leave you here if I have to.” the blonde grinned. “You wouldn’t. You need me for the pictures,” he sang, voice jovial.

“I don’t care about you that much. The sunflowers are probably less annoying subjects anyway,” oh. With no warning, his heart beat sped up, his wings puffing out slightly. Sure, he wouldn’t mind if you were a little nicer to him, but your insults were like a breath of fresh air. There was no doubt that Hawks loved the limelight, loved the popularity he got, but the relentless ass-kissing got old after a while. You kept him on his toes. Even if he was just constantly chasing after you every time you brushed him off, he didn’t care. 

“Put those away, bird brain,” it was then he realised his wings had spread further than he intended, stretched out on either side of him. One was curled right around his face, and he almost felt himself blushing as he pulled them in. It was just animal instincts, he assured himself. 

The rest of the journey was filled with a one-sided conversation of him talking and commenting on what was around you, with no response from you except the occasional witty retort or light-hearted jab at his expense, each one making his heart flutter. It wasn’t too long before you had arrived, the chain link fence around the plot stretching high above your head and corroded with orange rust. 

Rows and rows of bright yellow sunflowers stretched to the horizon, an immense display of summer vitality. The fragrance was potent, a sort of cloying sweetness that you didn’t hate. And just as you were about to enter, you knew you had made a mistake. 

“Oh.” Hawks stared at you incredulously, attention switching from your taken aback expression to the sign posted on the gate.

“You didn’t check to see it was open?” you looked up at him, allowing him to survey a tinge of remorse he hadn’t recognised until this point. 

“Look, how was I supposed to know? This place has always been open at this time since I was a little kid,” you rubbed your arm, brows furrowed. Hawks sighed, rolling his shoulders back.

“Well, the sun’s too low to go anywhere else outside,” he shrugged, “it’s no biggie, I guess. Those other photos weren’t too bad. Hey, now that we’re free, do you want to- what are you doing?” your foot was halfway in the gaps in the gate, the wedges on your heels making it hard to climb.

“I’m not wasting my day for nothing,” you growled, fingers curling around the metal, “get climbing, bird boy,” with a soft sigh, smile gracing his lips and a warm feeling in his chest, Hawks spread his wings.

“I think you’re forgetting something that’ll make this a lot easier,” you felt a cool draft on your back as Hawks flapped his wings, the feeling being quickly replaced by the warmth of his chest as he pulled you in. A foreign emotion coiled in your stomach, but you convinced yourself that it was just the flight.

One arm wrapped around your shoulders, the other supporting your knees, and all Hawks was thinking that such a gentle flight never felt so calming. 

Your feet tapped against the soft soil, sinking in to it slightly when the hero placed you down. You nodded your thanks.

“Let’s go over there, I want the sun coming in from the right,” Hawks nodded, content to just follow your orders. You pulled the tripod from your bag and set it up, adjusting it to your liking as Hawks looked around, trying to think of a pose. 

Once everything was ready, you turned your attention to Hawks.

“I want to humanise you,” he grinned curiously as you walked over.

“What do you mean by that?” he nearly gasped when you grabbed his chin, angling his face to the side and slightly up, towards the sun. You took a step closer, reaching up and running a hand through his hair. He bit his lip, hands trembling as you tugged slightly, trying to mess it up a little.

“All the photos I’ve seen on you always put a huge emphasis on either your wings or your hero status, and I don’t really see why,” you mumbled, placing one hand on his jawline while the other fixed his hair to your liking, letting a few strands fall in front of his eyes, “I think that just creates a divide. If they wanted you to seem angelic they should play that up, not just have it the norm,” you huffed, “anyway, I wanna put the emphasis on you and not your wings. So ideally if you could tuck them behind your back that would be wonderful,” 

Hawks nodded, disappointment filling him as you stepped away. He made sure not to move as he awkwardly folded his wings over each other and pulled them in, glancing at you with a look of apprehension. You just nodded in approval, leaning down to your camera. 

You took plenty of shots, allowing him plenty more opportunities to feel your hands on him (and he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it). 

“Hey, why were you so late today?” Hawks dared to question while you were analysing your photos. You were perched on a bench, appreciating your work. The late sun cast a golden sheen on his skin, the spattering of glimmering rays highlighting his face in all the right places. 

“I was sleeping,” you responded, deleting an out of focus shot. His eyes narrowed.

“What?” “Just as it sounds. Figured if they were gonna make me work so I could only have three hours of sleep a night it was gonna be on their time, not mine,” he frowned, taking a seat next to you.

“They shouldn’t work you that hard,” you shrugged with a hollow laugh, blank gaze in your eyes. 

“What am I gonna do? Have them fire me? As much as I hate this job it’s the only thing that pays for my coffee in the morning,” he was silent as you stood up, stretching your arms behind your bag before tucking everything back in your bag. 

“Did you want to be a photographer?” he questioned, only to be met with a forlorn smile.

“Maybe at one point.” the two of you lapsed into silence before you sighed.

“Well, I’ve gotta submit these to Mizuki, and I’m sure you need-” Hawks caught your wrist, spinning you back around.

In the glow of the sunset, you looked almost ethereal. Your eyes gleamed, and cheeks warmed in the orange flare. Sunflowers framed your form, and the words caught in his throat, nearly stopping him from saying anything at all.

“Come work for me.” he blurted. You snorted.

“No.” all he could do was smile as you hopped back over the fence, not waiting up for him.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought you’d say.”

[msgrumpygills]

An Ask

Social Media Anon here!

Well, I'm a little confused (and surprised) by what's going on in the padalecki's social media but I have a (I think) rational theory.

Firstly, engagement is EVERYTHING, but it's a very current indicator, it only tracks the median of the last 20 posts, which for some posters can be week on week.

Even taking that into account, Jared and Gen are going through the floor!

Take Gen first, it used to be that each type of post she had received a specific "value". Her alone, not many likes for her following (20-35K), then her with the kids got more, her with Jared got WAY MORE, the kids alone got way more and Jared.. was her prize.

I said that, as her engagement was in danger of slipping below 3, her props would come out more, kids and in particular JARED would feature more on her block. That's what happened (it wasn't rocket science) BUT the value of Jared in likes has diminished substantially, which I wasn't expecting. Her romantic Tuscan adventure posts are getting only 40K after a week. A photo of her and Jared would normally be in the 100k. Then, of course, he had a rarity value but now he's plastering himself everywhere (I'll come back to that). Even the kids are getting less likes. To get high likes it has to be a professional photograph with Jared looking super hot. Snap with him looking... well ordinary... isn't enough.

However, she's pushed her engagement back up to 6, mainly because her content is 60% Jared now.

What's really interesting is what is happening to Jared's social media. His engagement is going DOWN. He was at 6.49 when I looked last night, which is a MEGA FALL. that's good in media terms but nothing like the previous excellent.. and it's a BIG drop in a short time.

So, what's happening? Well I think two things.

Firstly, there is, yet another, Jared rebranding. He seems to be becoming a professional Texan. He can't do an interview without saying Y'all and mentioning Texas. He IS Texan, but he spent 15 years promoting a soft, mid America Jared and now he just seems like SOUTHERN GUY. Given Walker advertises on Fox, it's not surprising he's going for this image, but he definitely seems to be hitting a new market. He has to be really careful that doesn't alienate his old ones. You tell a man by the company he keeps and Jared seems to hang out with dicks... and he does it on social media.

Secondly, he's getting overexposed. He's EVERYWHERE to fans with nonsense stories. Given that that is Gen's thing with the blog he should have realised how irritating it is. There is no actual content in his exposure. He's either flogging orange pee or at hooters or on a gondola, it's boring.

Jared needs to get a CONTENT CREATOR. Over exposure is a killer.

I can see the network have an issue. They need Walker to break the CW bubble. They are missing the point though. It DID. Week one was brilliant for them. The show is crap and viewers turned off. There problem wasn't attracting viewers , it's show content. They turned off.

Jared is going down hill on Social Media. Jensen will get a BIG PUSH when soldier boy arrives on screen and before by Kripke to draw SPN fans in. So it'll be interesting to see whether Soldier Boy, rather than Walker, causes the schizm in J2 social media joint tracking, with them finally reliant on their own current conduct rather than the legacy of SPN.

If it does that will be something to discuss with those who claimed Jensen was becoming a bit part actor to Jared's super success.

My own view, this is an exercise in quality mattering, which is something Jared and Gen both need to learn. Their social media is SPN social media, when that dies at the moment so do they.

Oh, and Gen and TOWWN are both raiding the piggie bank to buy followers again...

Stay Safe everyone!

Social Media anon requested this be corrected to be anonymous but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to get it as an ask, so here we are! 

I think that it says a lot about Jared and Gen’s content (mostly Gen on this point) that even the props aren’t bringing in the interest anymore. I’ve always said that they come off as too fake and manufactured to come off as genuine. 

Just for kicks I went to Jensen’s IG, Jared’s IG, Gen’s IG and Danneel’s IG. I compared the numbers of similar types of posts (I even picked ones that were posted roughly around the same time) and the difference is incredible. Jensen’s birthday post for JJ has over 1 million likes, Jared’s post of him and O (posted around the same time, if not further back) has half of that. I think people really are picking up on Jared and Gen coming off as fake. 

I’ve seen people who are getting tired of the constant content so I wouldn’t be surprised at all if that oversaturation of the Pads is getting to people. You know there’s something amiss when Danneel, who only posts once in a while now, gets twice the amount of likes and comments as Gen does and she posts every day. I’m sure that does wonders for her ego too. 

I’m interested to see how the social media numbers change when Soldier Boy is introduced on screen and during the break from Walker, that’s for sure.

[bvyfriend]

MY GIF-MAKING TUTORIAL

for @sunshinesquash​​

i use photopea.com for making gifs so if you have photoshop i’m not sure how much different these tools will be, but i hope this can help!! i also have a windows computer so if you have a mac my recording technique might not work :’( all the tools i use are pretty simple and basic so if you can’t afford to download a lot of software dont worry!

recording:

when you’re finding videos to use for gifs, you want to use the highest quality footage u can find! you normally always want to use 1080p, but if you can only find 720p then make sure its not too grainy! 

for the actual recording, i use the (windows + g) shortcut. once you click that this should pop up!

if this is your first time opening the game bar, it might just show only the top bar - if that happens, click on the second icon! when the capture sidebar shows up click on the third icon and the recording will begin :] make sure that your recording is 4-5 seconds max, otherwise it will be too big for photopea to handle and there will be too many frames! 

opening the recording:

all your recordings from the windows game bar will automatically show up in videos > captures.

open photopea, and then click file > open and locate your recording!

when it’s opened photopea should look like this:

this image size is 1920 x 1080 which is way too big for photopea to load your final gif and for tumblr to accept! because of this you’ll click file > new and get to a pop-up that looks like this:

the size that i normally make my gifs is 540 x 540 which is what i’m going to use for this tutorial! you can always go for other dimensions - whatever you’re comfortable with :]. click create!

ok now comes the complicated part :

select all of the frames that you’re going to work with until they become highlighted grey. make sure the folder is not selected!

right click on the highlighted area so an options bar pops up!

click on ‘duplicate into...’ and select the drop down menu and click on ‘new project.psd’. there will be a ‘new project’ and a ‘new project.psd’ option - ‘new project.psd is the one you want to click on! ‘new project.psd’ is the 540x540 project that you created.

next, click on the tab that says ‘New Project.psd’ and it should show you something like this:

the frames are really zoomed in because of the different dimensions, so we’re going to fix that! make sure all of your frames are still highlighted and then click on the little folder button that i circled:

now all of your frames are going to be under a single folder. make sure ‘transform controls’ on the top menu is selected! now single click on the edge of the selected frames:

now a new menu is going to show up where it used to say ‘transform controls’ was! make sure the little hamburger button in between the dimensions is selected.

replace the 100% with 50% and now your dimensions will look like this!

now just drag that box of frames onto the white area! (make sure only the folder is selected on the side bar):

sharpening + color:

now you’re going to open that folder and then select all your frames again (make sure the folder is not highlighted):

now click filter > noise > and type in 1%.

im adding noise here because it helps smooth out the gif and makes sure there arent any wavy/grainy lines!

after you click ‘ok’ then click filter > sharpen > smart sharpen. you don’t have to change any settings here! just click ‘ok’ with the default settings.

now your base gif is ready for coloring!

all your coloring tools will be under layer > new adjustment layer.

always remember that whatever settings/coloring that i use may be different from the way you want to do it! gif-making always starts with exploring and experimenting with your style :]

the first type of adjustment layers that i always start with are the ones that deal with adjusting brightness! depending on how dark your gif is you will either want to start with ‘brightness/contrast’ or ‘levels’. (you can also use curves but levels are easier to control for me.)

if you have a super dark gif, you’re going to want to start with ‘brightness/contrast’. no actual adjustments will be made to this layer but you’re going to make its type ‘screen.’

BE CAREFUL WITH THIS LAYER! doing ‘screen’ with brightness/contrast will often whitewash characters of color so for this gif we’re going to just use ‘levels’! (there are ways to get the original skin tone back when using this layer, so if it’s completely necessary depending on the scene, you’re going to have to work a lot with coloring adjustment layers to make sure not to oversaturate or whiten when doing this. you’ll get there with practice, but for this tutorial we’re going to work with safe adjustments!)

if the gif becomes too bright because of ‘screen’ in brightness/contrast you can adjust the opacity!

whenever you use brightness/contrast you’re also going to use a levels layer because just this layer can remove a lot of the depth

now let’s open the levels layer!

you’ll see the three squares that you can adjust - the black is shadows, the grey is mid-tones, and the white is highlights. when working with characters of color don’t brighten the mid-tones, this will also whitewash them! dragging the squares to the left will brighten, and to the right will darken. each scene will require different adjustments so explore and figure out what’s right! make sure when brightening, that you remember to give it enough depth.

now the gif has proper lighting!

after your brightening layers, you’re going to look at the scene and check whether you need a photo filter layer! if your scene has a strange filter - for example, cw shows often use a weird dark yellow filter: this is where a photo filter comes in.

for this tutorial im going to show how to use the photo filter! shawn’s face has a yellow tint so we’re going to try this out. (there are ways to get rid of the yellow in selective color, but for this tutorial we’re going to start with photo filter.)

photopea automatically provides a yellow color photo filter which is not what we want for this scene! (if you have an especially blue scene this might help though!)

click on the orange square and drag the color picker to the opposite color of the one you’re trying to get rid. we’re getting rid of yellow, so we’ll select blue.

now, we’re going to adjust the density so it doesn’t look so blue. now it looks perfect!

now we’re going to go to my favorite tool: selective color :]

you can see hints of blue, and pink in the scene already - so we’re going to really bring those out!!

click on the drop down that will bring up a list of colors! we’re going to especially go for cyan and blue. when i really need to bring out blue, i drag the cyan fully over to 100% and the yellow to -100%

if you look at the gif now, you can see that the blue is starting to come out! duplicate that selective colors layer until the blue becomes saturated enough, but not grainy. i duplicated mine’s three times for this gif!

now that you see how to manipulate the colors with selective colors, experiment and see what you can do! i felt like the skin tones were too pale so i messed with the reds :] you may think differently, that’s why coloring is subjective not objective!

one of my other favorite tools to use is the vibrance tool! make sure not too saturate your colors too much so be careful with this layer!

another really fun tool to use is the hue/saturation tool! if you have a very prominent stable color that isnt too grainy, you can manipulate it to another totally different color! this gif may not do too well, since the blue isn’t completely solid, but we can still test it out!

click on the drop down to the color you want to manipulate and have fun with it! i could make the blue a little cyan here without making it too grainy so this is what we ended up with :]

this is going to be the end of the tutorial for now but always feel free to ask me if you need some more advice. if some of it was confusing dm me or i can always make a video of my process!

[VERY IMPORTANT: REMEMBER that photopea.com is a website so it’s always prone to crashing. always ALWAYS save your psd’s after you’re done editing. a psd will save all your coloring and frames! go to file > save as psd. to export your frames as a gif go to file > export as > gif > save! if photopea starts lagging, it might be the time to open it in another tab and start making your other gifs there.]

this is our before and after coloring!:

[fantasy-anatomy-analyst]

(Image description: five pairs of art showing my progress from the past to the present. Each pair contains an old drawing or digital painting and a new recreation of it. All the new recreations are labeled "September 2021" and I will detail each pair out below. End description.)

Sometimes you have to brave the ancient deviantart archives and redraw stuff.

March 2009: a colored pencil drawing on notebook paper of my two oldest ocs in a field. This is a winged unicorn girl (a self insert persona, but too humanoid to be a furry), and an elf dude on a horse (my fictional self's lover). They seem to be racing each other. I have to laugh at my rather chibi and very disproportionate anatomy from back then. This would have been the end of eight grade, just before I turned 14. Hard to look at this and remember that people told me I was talented. I don't think I actually drew much better than any other 13 year old who liked to doodle.

The recreated piece is of course a digital painting. The mountains and field look much clearer. The horse finally looks like a horse. The compositional perspective and the character proportions are more realistic now.

March 2010: a totally unnamed character, apparently an elf who is a veterinarian. Also an early attempt at digital painting. The background is a scribbled mess of brown and green, there are small critters around that are only sort of recognizable and definitely did not make use of references. The elf's head is very large, his shoulders almost nonexistent. But you sure can tell I liked to draw eyes.

The new digital painting has a much cleaner forested background. The critters are now more recognizable as a peacock, a cat, a goldfinch, and some kind of purple salamander dragon. The elf's proportions look proper now and his face has been turned to look more directly at the bird flying to his hand.

April 2011: a colored pencil drawing testing out a cell shaded style on an almost chibi character. They look a lot like the previous winged unicorn girl, with the same wings and general color palette. This is because they were meant to be her kid. They have a falcon perched on their hand and a missing arm. Their bare chest shows large scars from some kind of clawed creature. I don't remember the story behind this.

The new digital recreation does not attempt to mimic the chibi style or the cel shading style. But it gives the character an updated look that is a little more realistic, fixing the straight legs to proper digitigrade ones, fixing the wing proportions. Also the scars are no longer a dark red, they actually look like scars rather than a fresh wound.

April 2012: a digital portrait of a blond elf man with a small purple dragon on his shoulder. Half his face has been burned so badly that he is missing an eye, and some portion of his lips and nose are also gone. His neck is far too long, the colors are rather flat and disjointed.

The new recreation has fixed his facial proportions and shortened his neck. The burn scarring on his face no longer looks bright red, it looks older and more healed. The purple dragon is a duller color to mesh with the rest of the image, and it has cleaner anatomy as well.

June 2013: a pencil sketch of a character who was at the time named "mikkel nyuen". The photo of this drawing came out very yellow. The pencil shading is either washed out or was always rather light to begin with. He is smiling and holding a bow. His body looks too long and his face a bit too short.

The digital recreation uses the same warm yellow color palette as the oversaturated pencil drawing. The character was renamed Mikul Jitir, and has an eyebrow piercing with chains connected to an earring, as well as a side shave on his head. He looks older than his previous iteration, more mature. His shoulders and chest are a little broader to suit the fact that he seems to be an archer.

[evilzoldyck]

High School Sweethearts

It was hard to speak when you’re bent over the desk while your boyfriend forcefully held your head down, flipped your skirt over and tugged your underwear to the side to bring his hard dick right into your raw cunt. Nevertheless, he seemed unbothered by the lack of preparation as he started to thrust vehemently with a bitter passion, inattentive to your feelings and inconsiderate to your needs.

The sensation of Phinks’ vigorous intrusion left a burning and stinging ache on your end, this was by far the most painful sex you’ve had with him, if you even can call it that. The dim classroom you were in too offered no comfort whatsoever, the hard wooden desk beneath you and the pressure of him from above was beginning to give your chest an uncomfortable squeeze.

You think of shoving him off and escaping, but you knew that you were no match for his almost monstrous strength, had it not been for his appearance you would mistake him for another being for possessing such Herculean-like power. You also knew that he locked the door, and further beyond that stood his friends keeping a steady watch for his buddy that just wanted to have a little talk with his girl.

All because he heard rumours spreading around school that you were going to breakup with him.

“So fucking stupid,” Phinks venomously spat out. His brows furrowed furiously with his eyes pierced to your helpless form, his violent thrusts never faltered even through your stammering pleas. The sheer unbridled fury he exuded left you crippling in fear on whether you’re going to come out of this classroom in one piece. You’ve seen what he was like around others, you just didn’t anticipate that you’d be receiving the infamous temper from him so soon.

His rage that was once rigorously contained around you were now left unchained, you just pray that somebody would come through the door and rescue you before he does anything worse. 

Coarse hands slid through your strands and bunched your hair together near the roots to sharply pull them. You were honestly glad you didn’t have to face him through this ordeal, you couldn’t stand seeing his face shooting acrimonious glares into your own, but mostly it’s because you didn’t want him to see you crying. You couldn’t let him see how much he hurt you, how much power he had over you for he might take pleasure in your humiliated, broken state. 

Letting the tears run down your face silently, you gripped onto the edge of the desk so tightly that your knuckles turned white from the grip, biting down on your lip to prevent any sobs from slipping out. You felt Phinks’ gruff pants from behind you, his hands never relenting from squeezing down on your hips and pulling on your hair harshly. It was clear he was far from forgiving you or even listening to what you had to say; all he could focus on was exerting his emotions physically onto you. 

You should’ve seen this coming. The school’s infamous social pariah showing up randomly into your class and threatening others to leave just so he could ask you out in private. Of course you questioned it, just exactly what had you done to garner his attention? It wasn’t as if you were in or even knew his tight knit circle personally. You knew that he was a bad influence, the kind of company he keeps and the reputation he carries would just be detrimental to your respectable social image. 

But at that time, you couldn’t care less. His awkward and brusque confession was so endearing that it was enough to convince yourself to give him a chance. Who knew underneath that coarse exterior was something that was sweet and almost kind albeit a little unsure, however you figured he was trying. Wondering why it took him to come forward and reveal himself for you to see through his facade after all this time before.

However you knew that at this age you were not going to come close to actually know what real love is or even begin to understand it. Also, you weren’t expecting that Phinks would be the one you’d see at the end of the aisle waiting for you, but you at least wanted the high school romance experience. To have your very first boyfriend during the height of your exuberant and capricious youthful days. Something to look back at history and reminisce to.

The first week with him was great, the unwavering stares and the nebulous whispers were just what you were expecting when you accepted his confessions, though you weren’t quite used to the blinding spotlight as you stood at the centre topic of high school gossip. If Phinks ever felt the same way, he didn’t mention anything to address it. Rather he would see you after class and take you onto the rooftop where he effectively broke the lock on the door with an effortless tug just to have some time with alone with you.

To be within a close proximity with someone like Phinks emotionally and physically was a bit daunting. In the first few days you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him straight in the eyes or ask the questions you’ve been dying to know like: since when? How? Why? Nevertheless you  knew it was best not to ask since you figured Phinks himself wasn’t very good at articulating his emotions anyway. You figured the small pauses of comfortable silence and shy touches would be enough for now. 

You still remember that day where he stole you from gym class to bring you to a secluded corner in the back of the building. Your very first kiss was shared there and you couldn’t deny that the heart at least flickered. It was like a scene from an oversaturated romance clip ever, but the soft feeling of his lips against yours with his rough hands gently cupping your cheeks was something directors couldn’t sincerely translate to the audience.

When he pressured you to skip class one morning, you thought it would just be a one time thing. But the next thing you knew, you’d find yourself in aimlessly wondering the streets with Phinks by your side every day. Of course, the grades that you worked so hard to keep up before suffered because of your arbitrary absence, leading you to stay up late each night to catch up because you find it so hard to say no to him. 

The more time you spent with him, the more you began to notice that you hardly had the chance to see your friends. They also noticed it too and though they were mildly concerned as to why you would say yes to a guy you barely knew or talked to, they were happy for your new profound relationship. 

You couldn’t help but feel awkward every time you pass your small circle of friends by the hallway with Phinks close by your side. Your heart tightened as you all shoot a polite smile at each other, the familiarity that you all shared once before was diminishing slowly. 

Phinks was always invasive of your personal life, the moments of time you didn’t share with him, he’d intrude and let himself in anyway. You recounted at how he would scroll through your phone with a pensive glare, looking as if he’s expecting to catch something. You didn’t like it, but you also didn’t know that this wasn’t supposed to be a normal high school relationship.

You stared anxiously as Phinks’ eyes scrutinised your phone screen, scrolling through your apps, photos, messages and contacts. While there was nothing for you to hide, you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable letting him go through your phone. Sitting patiently across him, you fidgeted with your nails hoping that he wouldn’t find something to get angry at. 

“Who’s this?” He glared at you, showing you a name on your contacts that you had forgotten. It was your science project partner from last year, you forgot you still had his number in your contacts. When you replied just as what you had thought, he returned his eyes back to the phone and pressed delete. Even though you didn’t need it, you wanted to refute, tell him he couldn’t just erase someone’s number from you like that.

And it was as if he read your mind, you suddenly perked up when he bluntly said, “the project’s over right?” While continuing his peruse on your social connections.

“Yeah,” you dryly replied, looking down at your shoes as if they’re the most fascinating thing in the world. You hated it when he got just a little bit mad, you’ve seen the extent of his anger and even if you were his, there was no telling what he’d do if you push him far enough off the edge. So you often found yourself doing mental gymnastics to justify his actions.

“Then you don’t need it anymore,” he stated, almost coming off as condescending. You weakly agreed with him. 

The time he suggested the both of you study at your house that day you told him how you were falling behind on maths, you didn’t think much of it. In fact, you were excited. Throughout the relationship he’d always set the schedule for the both of you and when he finally considered to set up a time that you needed, you were touched. Though that feeling quickly fleeted when he suddenly pinned you down on your bed. 

“P-Phinks,” you breathed out in between his kisses. Your body was superimposed by his while his hands that held your sides desperately roamed freely. The books that you brought were uselessly thrown to the carpeted floor and it was clear to you now that studying wasn’t his intention from the start. 

You held on to his shoulder and pushed him so that there was some distance between you two. “I thought we were just going to study,” you asked earnestly, looking for some sympathy in his eyes. 

He smirked smugly and leaned in to kiss you once again, “yeah?” He chuckled in amusement. “That’s cute.” You should’ve known he couldn’t give what he didn’t have. He practically ripped your uniform blouse to get to your skin, not minding the buttons that scattered everywhere. His mind was set in stone for pleasure while yours was a conundrum. 

Do you want to give it to him right now? Are you ready to lose your virginity? Does this mean he was The One? Do you want to save it for someone else? Who? Is high school the time to explore these things? Were you moving too fast?

You couldn’t remember what happened during the intercourse, but you remembered him finally leaving when your parents came home. 

The next day your friends lead you to a quiet corner of the school to finally talk, they strategically caught you on a rare time where Phinks was preoccupied with reigning chaos over some unfortunate student with his friends. Knowing that you preferred to stay out of it, Phinks reluctantly left you alone for the day. 

They confronted you about him, how he’s got you on such a tight leash and how they missed you, wondering when you’ll be back with them just like the old times. When it was time for you to answer, you couldn’t properly structure a sentence. Instead, the next thing you knew there was tears in your eyes. You murmured out that he took advantage of you, you couldn’t help but sob out uncontrollably and fell down to the abrasive gravel. 

Hearing yourself admit it out loud helped you processed the thoughts and feelings of the altercation of what happened yesterday. Your friends were immediately by your side, holding you tightly as you cried out in distress. They shot each other a bewildered look at the implication of your statement. You held on to the supportive grip of their hands, letting yourself sob into their shoulders as they hugged you tightly and soothed your back while occasionally brushing your hair back from your wet face, not telling you to stop or say anything else.

The familiar warmth you’ve been craving for all this time, they gave it to you without question. You poured out your heart that period, wept until your tears went dry and sobbed until your lungs gave out. They never left your side. You figured once you told them you’d feel humiliated and embarrassed but they never even made an accusation of the sort, in fact they prevented you from thinking such things about yourself.

When they suggested the police get involved, you quickly opposed, you didn’t want to make such a noise about it. Perhaps you still regarded some feelings for him, even though you shouldn’t and he could never deserve it, but regardless you didn’t want anyone else to know. Though it was clear that they weren’t satisfied, they settled on you breaking up with him for now. 

You didn’t know who stumbled and saw you that day with your friends, but someone did. News travelled around the campus like a grapevine and soon everyone is whispering of you breaking up with the infamous Phinks Magcub soon. 

When the gossip finally reached him, he threw the maths report that he waited on for some kid to finally finish it in anger, leaving the papers to fall onto the muddy ground behind him as he marched straight to the building. He was going to surprise you with the report you’ve been so worried about and to hear of your betrayal enraged him to the point that he couldn’t hear or see anyone but you.

Meanwhile you stood in an empty classroom, worried when your friends didn’t come to your class on the last bell of the day in which they promised to meet, the whispers were getting louder and you weren’t sure how you could face him alone. You looked out the window and sighed, it was going to rain again. If that wasn’t an a bad omen the moment you turned to the door where Phinks suddenly emerged from was. 

You were so naive to think you can escape him without a scratch.

Phinks could hear the sobs you tried to stifle as you pleaded out when you finally couldn’t handle it anymore. “S-Stop- Phinks please...” you whispered out, squeezing out the tears stinging your eyes. Your throat felt like it was coiled with wires of barbs tightening every time you held yourself back from emitting a sound.

He let out a series of violent thrusts before he finally came, pulling your hair down harshly as you cried in pain. Once he let go of your hair and tucked himself back in, he turned you around to look at your grief stricken face. “Are you sorry?” He asked, completely apathetic to your side. You weakly nodded, casting your eyes from his. 

“Good girl,” he brusquely wiped your cheek with his thumb before pulling you close to him, forcing you to lay your head in his shoulder. You feel his lips tickle your ear when he muttered softly, “let’s not fight anymore.” 

It wasn’t like you had a say in it anyway.

[marshmallowprotection]

Out of Unknown, SE, GE, Suit, and Ray, who is the horniest? From Most to least in your opinion??

Okay. I do have an opinion here. There’s a line here because I think we need to talk about the level of strong infatuation that many of these boys have. Desiring another person isn’t inherently sexual in nature. Lust isn’t just about sex, nor is desire. You can want something strongly but it doesn’t have to lewd in nature to be wanted. 

That being said, I do HC Saeran as Demi, so it does take him a long time to want another person in that way, but he does experience an incredibly strong fondness for his MC. I think there is definitely a scale here but I think I’ll just go through each of the boys and describe their desire and you can read into that however you want. 

Ray is infatuated and determined to have you. He wants you, he wants to hold your hand and he wants to protect you from the outside world. He’s in love with the idea of you before he even knows you, and it isn’t until he realizes that you are better than his fantasies does he start to realize that his desires are far more vast than he thought. He is overwhelmed with his desire the more he is around you, and while he is capable of fantasizing about you in such ways, that isn’t his biggest desire. For him, all he wants is to hold your hand and fawn over you like a precious little doll. 

Suit Saeran desires you for reasons that he doesn’t understand. At first, he thinks it may be because he wants to take everything from Ray and make it his own to prove that he is the one that can protect the body. But, as his desire for power gets muddled and he starts to break down when his strength isn’t true strength, he feels lost on what he wants. His desire for you doesn’t make sense to him, does he want you to treat him as you did Ray, or does he want you to treat him like Saeran? He doesn’t know. He talks of a big game, and how he could have you if he wanted you, but at the end of the day, he isn’t sure how far he would actually go. 

Unknown doesn’t want you the way that Suit Saeran or Ray wants you. In act, you’re sort of an afterthought, a bonus prize in his game of revenge. You’re a tool, a toy, something to amuse him when he needs something to hold onto. His desire is destruction and getting rid of everyone that hurt him, and his thoughts can be very territorial and grim, but he’s far less inclined to do or act on an impulse with you unless it’s to his benefit. I, unfortunately, cite one of Seven’s bad endings where he sends… lewd photos to Seven to destroy him. That was a desire for pain, not exactly a lust on his part for you. That’s not to say he doesn’t want you, he wants you committed to him, too. 

SE Saeran is tired, he’s the Unknown that is in recovery and trying to get better after everything that he went through. He’s exhausted, and although he’s lived through so much, it’s hard for him to really want anything apart from what he’s lucked into. Well, he’s got his brother again and he has that MC, and he’s fortunate for that. His desire for you would be rather low, not very lewd in nature. He’s far more content to not get overwhelmed or strongly into something again. It’s more likely for him to just want ice cream with you than anything else, even cuddling is a stretch. His desire is to recover, slowly, but surely. He needs time before something like that. 

GE Saeran wants you because you’re the person that believed in him and helped him to see that he needed to change his ways to be happy. He found it on his own, but he will always cite you as the one that helped him get through it all. He isn’t sure where to start or how far is okay for him to act out. There’s a lot of talking, but he definitely wants to take things further with you but he will discover that takes time and patience. He will break down and cry the first few times that it gets close, far more oversaturated than he thought. He does have wants but you have to ease him into it, there’s a lot of shame here. 

So, I think they all have their own level and we shouldn’t really try to gauge which is which at the end of the day. The healthiest path would likely be with SE or GE Saeran, as they are both working to heal and get better, and the overwhelming type of emotion that comes with sharing your body like that would be best for someone that can handle it.

[dise7se]

you can’t make a mistake (on these kind of ice skates)

by spideysforce

It begins like this: MJ and Ned show up to his and May’s apartment first thing in the morning, their incessant knocking on the front door with ushered whispers, “Peter!” followed by even more knocking. HIs heart is beating fast and he gets out of bed, whispering-shouting back at his friends to not wake Aunt May up.

Regrettably, they do wake Aunt May up at 7AM on her Saturday morning off after working 9 shifts in a row at the hospital. May still pulls Ned and MJ into the apartment, telling them she missed them, hugging them good morning and giving Peter the glare for not opening the door sooner. She may be allowing the squad to venture off on their own the winter break of their senior year, but she lays down the ground rules for their trip to the mountains outside of the city, streaked with frozen lakes they’ll venture out to skate in; She expects no blood, no blunt traumas, death, or ice all over the floor of the car. 

He felt like a little kid ten years ago, a couple of years living with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. He had recently become accustomed to living with them, they began their own traditions. After celebrating Hanukkah and when Peter got out of school for the new year, they would drive out to the mountains to sit in scenic view parking lots, an early morning radio playing exclusive MET players in winter leagues content from their practices. May would set up the trunk, and they’d all squeeze in with the door propped open, huddling close and watching the trees sway. It was breathtaking; Ben usually stood too close to rocky cliffs to capture the perfect photo, propping him up on his shoulders to get the higher angle he couldn’t score himself. The same excited feeling from the night before, the excitement and him not being able to sleep, his stomach does leaps while he watches his friends tow their bags in. It was a meteorshower visible in the night sky, digging his fingers into fresh dirt in the spring, the first snowfall of the season.

    “May, are you sure you can’t come with?” Peter asks once more, slouching and pouting his lips. He needs to raise the dramatics, she’s the best ice skater he knows. 

“Sorry, baby. It’s my day off, and you three deserve your own fun little trip.” She fastens his puffy jacket on, zipping it up to the top, yet never snagging his chin. He groans once he catches MJ hiding a laugh behind her hand. 

“You two are next,” May smiles in a knowing way, “don’t you think I’m going to let my kids go outside in the freezing cold with their jackets unzipped.”

“Of course, Aunt May,” Ned replies with his manners by the Leeds family never failing, standing happily besides Peter and chewing on his morning bagel. MJ sips on her coffee, grabbing Peter’s blue and white snowflake-knitted hat with a pom pom on the top. 

“Please, no, MJ,” Peter complains, shaking his head to dodge the hat in her hand, May turning her gaze to Ned and huffing about kids, when Ned shrugs in agreement. “Seriously, you’re messing up my hair that I work so hard to naturally stay this luscious and wavy.”

“You know who you sound like?” 

May turns to Peter to give him a very pointed look with a raised eyebrow, and he knows exactly where this is going. “Just like Tony. Always worrying about the hair, the sunglasses, how muscular you look in the Spidey suit.”

“May,” Peter shrieks, his face turning scarlet red while the room erupts into laughter from his friends who are totally betraying him right now. “That was one time in front of the mirror! Don’t get me wrong, I am very muscular in the suit, but you can’t just--”

“Can you just finish putting your hat on and get out of here already, go take your film photos for your photography project,” May presses a kiss to his forehead, gasping and taking a step once she realizes she needs to stay on the tip of her toes to reach him. 

“Yes, May,” he says mildly, “ice skating, photos, and back home. No shenanigans.”

With that, she ushers the three of them to the door, reminding them no web fluid experiments in the middle of the woods, skating where they aren’t allowed, or no fighting unsolicited sea monsters, or any monsters at all  like last summer. She exhales, her shoulders slumping and she’s giving him the same look that Happy and Tony give him before their spontaneous lectures, notorious anecdotes included. She says more ‘love you’s, sending them on their way.

---

MJ, Peter, and Ned drive May’s 1989 Revolvo outside of the city, taking the open highway to the mountains about an hour out. Peter took the driver’s seat, Ned in the front, and MJ opting to sit in the back with all their skating equipment. The car is full of laughter, music, and chattering in their ears on the drive to the lake, in true Peter Parker ADHD style, MJ and Ned Facetiming Flash and Betty, asking them to meet them on their hike.

The first thing he notices that gives him butterflies is MJ rolling the window down the second they reach the George Washington bridge, letting her curly hair- that usually smells like coconut oil and shea butter- sweep through the wind. His stomach flutters, watching her through the rearview mirror with a wide grin splat across his face, a laughter probably bubbling in her chest like his and Ned’s are full of. 

As if his big, doey heart eyes aren’t big enough, he finds Uncle Ben’s old film camera he gifted to Peter secure around her neck, snapping photos across the moving bridge. Of the sky, of him, of Ned, the car besides them on the right that honks angrily at them. He hastily laughs, asking her to get back inside the car before her face freezes.

Why is his heart beating so fast? Why is he beaming so hard at his best friend beside him, pretending to reprimand his best friend in the back of the car?

Once they’re outside of the city, Ned passes a stick of gum to each of them the moment their ears pop from the change in pressure. They argued the entire way about their school advisors, not really knowing what to do next on their way to college. They all remind him of himself in their own way, and he’s starting to miss them already. MJ wants to study law and criminology, with a forensic biology minor. After Ned graduates he wants to study computer engineering, and Peter wishes he was so sure of himself like they were.

He doesn’t offer much.

It’s fine, because his friends have been helping him figure it out, hence them pushing him to apply to this photography scholarship and contest. Every time he dares to bring up a double major in STEM and photography, his advisors laugh in his face and shut him down. They make it nearly impossible to talk, but his friends are there for him and remind him he can go at his own pace, reminding him he has his alter-ego to worry about.

Peter pulls the car off into a dirt road, surprised he even knows how to drive as a Queens dweller. They follow a path, Ned gripping onto his door handle. “Oh, G-d, Peter. Be careful! Look, there’s a squirrel!”

“Ned,” he gulps, Michelle smirking at their cowardice from the backseat of the car.

“Come on, it’s just dirt,” she suggests, and quirks her brow from an idea. Once the car is silent besides the lowered music, she jumps out and yells in Ned’s ear to watch out.

He jumps, yelling, “that isn’t cool!” and throws something back at her while Peter finds a spot on the side of the mountain. He slams on the brakes to shut them up, their petulant arguing coming to an end once they see the scenic rest stop.

As promised, his friends let him push them around and guide them like cattle to get the perfect shots. He crouches across the parking lot away from them, hearing their hushed whispers and laughters about how ridiculous he looks. “It’s for the aesthetic, okay!”

He opts for the colored film, replacing the entire roll of 50 they used just on the drive here. He shuts the back of the film camera, reeling the film roll until it catches, and finds the perfect shot of his friends whispering and slowly becomes entranced by the actual scenic view. He captures the sky from a new perspective, blocking out all of his surroundings.

He shows his friends the sky, he shows them the car headlights shining on their hearts, and the sun shining on their faces. He captures the muddled sunshine through Michelle’s curls, a blush forming on her face from the camera being too close along with Peter holding it.

His heart skips a beat every time he photographs Michelle, finding a new beautiful thing about her to be lovestruck over.

He takes portraits of the both of his best friends, planning on printing all of these photos 100 times to hang them in his room, to give to them, and to place all over the photography critique and display wall. He sat on the cold gravel road and his friends had to dust him off. His photos look how he feels swinging off of buildings at night, finding one billboard sign, like outside of Matt’s apartment that illuminates the entire block in oversaturated neons. There weren’t iron bars and concrete filling the frame like his photos from the city, it was green trees with branches draping above them, brushing across their faces, a palette of turquoise, grays, and greens.

Peter brought color into the achromatic, washed out world.

There was a photograph he knew he was going to print to become poster-sized, the subject blown up huge because he wanted to reach out into the photo itself, not yet developed. He imagines his hands in the chemical infested waters, bleach and fixer pouring down his hands. 

Ned and MJ both hang their abdomens off of the large metal railing, rockfall barriers they wrap around, the mountains blurred horizontally in the back. MJ’s hair carefully drapes over the edge of the railing, blowing in the wind. Ned stares past him, suspended in air right behind Michelle. The bars are set impossibly straight, but MJ and Ned’s body destroy the thirds in a beautiful, alluring way. Their arms dared to swing over the edge of the mountainside, throwing them into the flesh if the barred metal wasn’t holding them. Too close to the edge, too close to the sky.

“I got it,” he pants, unbelievably bashed at the one click of the shutter. The focal point is always set to 50mm and an aperture of 1.8. 

It was like chemistry, physics, it was Murphy’s Law; Whatever can happen in his film roll, will happen. 

He lowers the camera down from his face, MJ and Ned already out of there poses, he finds them smiling at him.

---

As promised in an unsaid way, MJ, Ned, and Peter cling onto each other to get the hang of skating. They each hurt themselves at least once quickly leaning over to lace their own skates leaning out of the car, parking nearby the lake and hiking across the icy-snow to get to the icy lake. The area is empty, and the mountains hover above them through the trees, sending a chill their way.

Not before long after testing the ice themselves and deeming it safe by the signs, they’re gliding along the icy lake and pulling each other down in each desperate tug to stay upright.

Ned points out, “I thought you were good at ice-skating! You’re Spider-Man!”

“Exactly!” he shrieks back, his left leg gliding in front of him causing him to flail his arms to find balance. “I web-swing! I don’t ice skate for a reason.”

Peter clears his throat, gliding over to MJ who watches Ned with a relaxed smile while he skates around the perimeter. Out of the three of them, he picks skating up the quickest, naturally fleeting over the ice with precision. “It’s not nice to hover, you know.”

He whips his head to the side to look at her, his ADHD brain reminding him it’s a joke and she’s messing with him before he falls into his own spiral of self-doubt. He smiles at her, her beige puffy coat covering her chin and she smiles into the enclosed space, looking up at him. Her hands are in her pocket, and he reaches playfully to warm his own hands up in the jacket.

“Uh, so--” he clears his throat, “it’s so cold out, right? I mean, the temperature is around freezing and we spent an hour in the mountains--”

“Yep, cold.”

“I had a lot of fun, like, I know we’re best friends and all and I’d do anything for you guys, but what you both did-- I got the perfect shot. I really did it,” he talks lamely, wondering how he still stumbles over his words around his crush he kissed in Europe. “You know, I’m probably just.. I think I’ll go take more pictures? I’ve never felt so alive and nostalgic taking pictures, and like Uncle Ben used to tell me-- Okay, I can’t take you looking at me like this.”

Amused, MJ smiles with his face too close to hers while they share body heat, hitching her shoulders. “You know I can hear your inner monologue, right?”

“It’s just-- you know, we’re hanging out. It’s not totally lame with me ruining it, we can forget this happened..”

She leans forward, leaning her forehead to his. “Do we have a reason not to?”

Right, yeah. They can do this, he thinks.

The feelings between them are confusing, and even though they’ve kissed, that was probably just a spur-of-the-moment thing, right? He did save her life and their friends, they were scared. And holding hands? That’s what all friends do-- 

His brain almost can’t process this all at once, and he thinks his cheeks can’t redden even more despite the cold and he’s sure she can see the tip of his ears burning pink-- 

He scrambles, nearly reeling back in the ice when she plants a kiss on his cheek. Her grin is huge, and she gently takes his hands out of her pockets and skates away, his heart rate struggles and he thinks this is how he’ll faint. From tachycardia. 

Ned’s voice fills overhead, and he grabs his camera from the side of the frozen lake to join them again. Persistent chills run down his spine, the misty freeze coming from the ground. They let Peter stand in the middle, lacing their hands together to skate in a chain, disastrously. It was at this moment the teenagers truly regretted not taking skating in Central Park seriously until last year, their skills unabashedly catastrophic, giving it up after they realized they can celebrate winter break inside, baking for everyone in the apartment building. 

The three of them realized Peter has his web-shooters equipped to their wrists when Ned clung onto him, nearly slipping and he tugged him up, and in their laughter released a web that shot into the snow across the lake. They stoof, starstruck, and could anyone blame them and their impulsivity? And so, what had started as simple skating to shoot film, documenting their lives beyond a surface-level way.

Ned retreats back to the sidelines, sitting a few feet away in the car on the side after skating for nearly an hour. The three of them pant in exhaustion, massaging their own limbs and stretching. Michelle attempted a jump on the ice while he went to go check on Ned, screeching and landing in an almost-split. 

He decided to keep quiet about the slight buzz that begins forming at the back of his head, crediting it to nearly slipping every five seconds on the ice. 

“Come take a break with me, I’m about to eat one of our many junk-food snacks until we can get lunch,” Ned offers after, he thinks he noticed the concern on his face from the haywire senses and doesn’t want to alert Michelle. He must suspect the way he starts shivering, too, so he sits in the passenger seat that faces the lake, besides Ned.

Ned looks at Peter, and he simply smiles back because he doesn’t want to worry his best friend. He chucks off his gloves, cleaning the camera from where it sat in ice and says he’ll be right back to take pictures in the smaller icy lake away from them.

He drags himself along the snow, taking big steps to account for the heavy skates on his feet towards the tiny icy lake besides them. He sees Ned and MJ gesture to each other, Michelle nodding her head towards him in concern, who makes eye contact with him and crosses her arms and makes a shivering motion in question. He shakes his head, sending a thumbs-up that he’s okay.

He’s reached the other side of the lake, taking pictures of Michelle skating from another angle in a snow covered patch. He shivers, the incessant cold gripping him. He feels it - a hitch, but it isn’t a shiver from the cold. He’s immediately retreating back when he hears a crunch, a kr, gripping his camera a bit tighter before throwing it to the side and he turns frantically, trying to locate the alert from his legs--

Closing his eyes, he listens to the noise of small ice particles separating, deciding where the safest spot to jump to is, letting his sense direct him somewhere else. He knew he was away from the mini lake, the frozen pond for this reason. It’s technically off the lake, but there must be a small terrain of water and he stumbles around the ice.

His skates are heavy on his aching feet, the snow seeping in from the sides that’s a few inches high, his heart racing in pure adrenaline. “MJ. Get off the ice now. Get off.”

“Peter, what--”

The glaze, icy surfaces are cracking beneath him, atoms shaking. His senses won’t stop screaming at him frantically, not guiding him except for up, and it might be too late to send his web-shooters above him, the shooters in the car with his gloves. He doesn’t have enough time to warn them to grab his web shooters for him before he’s crashing into the ground, through ice and water.

He suspends in the water, the cold engulfing his entire body, it’s unlike any cold he’s felt before, even after being trapped in snow after a fight with Mysterio. It’s unthinkable, striking his entire body. He blindly panics, pitch black in his vision and his throat burns raw as he screams. 

Get up, get up, get up-- swim, swim-- 

His body is being carved out by millions of pinpricks, the cold seeping into his body and chilling his bones and the shock gouges his brain. The skates cause him to be less buoyant, his heavy legs scraping ice and getting stuck with each desperate kick and flutter to get to the surface.

He watches the bubbles rise up in the water from his mouth, screaming he can’t hear himself underwater. He didn’t have the chance to suck in a breath, his exhalation running out and twisting and tearing at his lungs. Each cell screams breathe--

He can’t hear anymore. 

Loud ringing replaces his senses, he reaches blindly upwards and his heart rattles in his chest. The freezing temperature below the ice seizes his body. He jackknifes upwards, realizing his movement is clumsy and unreflexive.

His left skate becomes stuck in a chunk of ice, and he’s back in Europe for a moment. Heat blindly covers his face, the sensation all lost. Behind his closed eyes, a hot summer heat casts over him, but he’s being burned from Mysterio sending fire his way. He’s on Titan again, cells ripping to shreds again.

He lets himself succumb to the drowsiness, reaching up once last time to feel around as the opening of the ice flees. Even if he did make it out, his lungs feel too full in his chest, he’d need to get rid of all the liquid from his lungs fast, hoping he doesn’t asphyxiate.

He thinks he sees shadows dancing above him in the water, he’s hopeful his friends would dare reach inside for him, but it wouldn’t be fair for him. He’s drifting, he slowly diminishes away and he’s so far away from them, a dizzying sunlight blinding him and allowing him to close his eyes once more. His brain shuts off, and his senses stop screaming and allow him to let go - the panic leaves him.

He thinks he’s dreaming when he feels a hand in his, another grabbing his wrist. This can’t be right, he’s about to fall asleep into the world of unconsciousness. He’s too weak to fight the tug upwards, seeing stars all in front of him. A black canvas streaked with colors, twinkling in the night sky. He thinks he hits the air again, but he can’t take a breath in so it must not be real. He feels his body being tossed down onto the ground like a ragdoll, dragging through the snow that feels hot, lava on his skin. Is he eulogizing himself, a cynical last vision that he truly did live?

His vision comes back, he thinks, unable to cough and his legs feel ready to burst inside his body. He’s turned to his side, snowflakes falling from the sky. He thinks he can see very single snowflake in front of him, dancing for him, he thinks behind the ringing he can hear shouting, wake up! 

He wants to listen to each voice, millions of seconds passing between each frantic shout. He.. he must be allowed to close his eyes.. He wants to be taken back to the lake after succumbing to rest. He falls, stars accompanying him.

---

MJ’s boots begin to slip on the edge of the ice, bits of icicles falling into the water where Peter thrashes. “Shit, shit, shit,” she cries out, perching herself safely to grab onto his hand in the water with Ned searching frantically for his web-shooters and anything else they can use to pull Peter out of the water with.

After a minute, she’s dragging him out of the water with newfound strength, watching his blue body retreat from the water and she screams out, sobbing now. She won’t give up. She won’t give up on him, Aunt May, or on them.

“Hang off, babe, I’ve got you,” she says, looking down at him as he desperately tries to gasp for air. She begins chest compressions, unable to think. She never thought she’d be fast on the spot for an emergency, but she thinks she screams at Ned to call 911, forgetting he’s still on the line with them.

Once she gets a pulse, she and Ned carry Peter to the car. They frantically cover his body in every coat and blanket they find, thanking G-d May has spares in the trunk in case of an emergency. She shrugs her coat off, leaving her sweater on. She springs herself into the backseat, Ned doing the same in the front with the heat already blasting. She’s frantically explaining to whoever is on the other end of the phone, voice breaking as she begs for help. “He’s- he’s breathing on his own now, but he’s blinking at us. What do I do--”

A few minutes pass, she’s not sure how she hasn’t passed out yet. May’s murmuring in her ear through the phone, that Tony is talking to Ned while he drives and that he’s going to talk to her next. She’s pretty sure she agrees, but she’s curled up around Peter, his body on her lap. She gives him warmth, listening to Tony spew medical terminology at her and how to treat hypothermia. 

“You’re gonna be okay. I promise. You can’t die on us,” she whispers into the air, the car engine roaring.

--

Once Peter returns, he wonders if he’s dead when he’s conscious again. His brain registers warmth and lumps beneath him. He blearily opens his eyes, the action too much, his head is in someone’s lap. They run their hands gently through his cold hair. He feels hands around his socked-feet, and he furrows his brows in confusion. He begins to shift a little, feeling a gentle pressure on his arm and leg. There’s warmth all around his body, which is heavy but safe, it's as safe as May’s arms, Ben’s arms during a thunderstorm that shook the building, Tony’s arms after Titan. He closes his eyes, moaning and he’s ready to drift--

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” May sighs above him.

His first thought is to gasp for air, coughing and feeling his lungs clattering in his chest, his sternum erupting in pain. It feels like a hacksaw to his sternum when he breathes. 

He whimpers quietly, hearing soft shushing above him. It’s a different sound from the constant headache of the ringing, but he hears the familiar whirr of the refrigerator and picks up four familiar heartbeats. His heart feels surmounted by grief, over the sea, left far away.

He blinks his eyes open past tears, recognizing the bookcase in front of him in the living room of the apartment, with a warm body at his feet on the couch. He’s in May’s lap, “Peter, hey,” May says softly, grounding him by placing a hand on his back. “You’re okay. I’m right here.”

She places her chin to his hair, sighing, and he sags into her arms. He thinks his feet are in Tony’s lap, his foot catching his side.

“Oh, kiddo,” Tony soothes, squeezing his foot gently. 

“MJ? Ned?” He rasps out, no voice there and he turns frantically.

“Don’t worry, baby,” May says softly, he almost didn’t catch it. “MJ’s asleep in the chair besides Tony, Ned’s asleep in the other. We’re all crashing from adrenaline.

His head pounds at his movements, his arms feel sluggish, but he pushes himself off of May to find his friends, safe. “Oh-- fuck. Thank, G-d.”

“Language,” May admonishes kindly, settling him further into the couch comfortably by shifting pillows. “How are you feeling?”

Noticing hers and Tony’s eyes on him, searching, both their phones to the side of them and the window allowing pink and purple streaks inside, painting the furniture and the gold illustrating each facial feature of theirs. His friends sleep in the shadows, covered in soft blankets.He switches gazes between them. Tony moves him gently, wrapping his blankets tightly around him.

He’s guessing May removed some of his soaking clothes, exchanging his clothes and he notices the fresh white cotton t-shirt on his body, smelling of fresh fabric softener. 

“Kid, you’re going to give me an aneurysm one of these days. Or, better yet, you’re going to burst my arteries yourself.” He fixed Peter with a pointed look, sighing. “I mean, you’re almost in college. I shouldn’t still be doing this.”

Everything he says comes off lightheartedly, but every word is laced with concern. He desperately wants to get argue back, but he knows today is his fault. He ignored his senses, and he doesn’t have a good enough excuse. Would he have been able to save his friends if it happened to them?

Like Tony can sense exactly what he’s thinking, he continues to assure him. “You’re hypothermic. You were blue, Pete, but your dislocated knee mixed in isn’t the worst you’ve done..”

He sighs, looking away from Tony and opting to listen to the kettle in the kitchen, May shifting his head off of her lap and into the couch cushion to it off and stares at Tony’s phone on the table.

“It was stupid, I know. I’m so sorry, everyone,” he finally says, none of the words being announced like he wants, his throat tender and unhealed, lifting his head off the pillow and moans in pain. He’s able to sit up, leaning heavily against a pillow with his elbow propping him up. He ignores the piercing pain in his ribs. ”I checked the water. I-- I wasn’t thinking, I guess.”

Tony sounded as frantic as he did back when he first yelled at him after the nearly-disastrous ferry incident. “That’s part of the problem. You are thinking, kid. You’d never do this willfully. You always jump the gun, which is something also great about you.. It can also be a great flaw.”

“Did they get hurt?” he whispers, turning back to the two teens on the smaller one-person couches.

“Nobody except for you, kiddo,” May reassures him, walking back in with a steaming mug in her hands. He takes this moment to redirect his gaze to his arm when he grabs it, his stiff elbow poked with a needle. “IV, baby. Needed to warm you up with warm saline.”

She sighs, sitting on the glass coffee table in front of him and not bothering to move the newspaper. “We’re worried, Peter. I can’t protect you like I need to, want to.” 

He collapses back down into the pillow, oblivious to May and Tony’s secret communication with each other. May, nodding for Tony to sit beside her and in front of Peter. It probably isn’t comfortable for him, but he looks over to May for answers. She furrows her brows, her mouth set in a line.

He almost smiles, seeing the two of them in front of him again when he’s not dying. The relief quickly turns to worry when he remembers what happened, guilt refusing to subside. He’s huddled in the couch, like a cold, rejected dog, signs of frostbite all over him. It’s his own fault - he didn’t listen to his sense. The dark, insidious fear of death looms over his head once more, he really scared his friends today. And himself.

Murphy’s Law comes back to his head, an anxiety swirling in his stomach. It’s an ugly, black hurricane feeling, especially seeing the dejection and defeat written on both their faces. 

“I--” he can’t manage, but the two of them see hesitation flicker across his face, voice too quiet and broken. “I’m just- I messed up. T’ny ta-taught me so much, I didn’t listen--” he cuts himself off, his voice unrecognizable, eyes widening in surprise, a realization.

“It was all my f’ult. I sc’red them, badly.” Pressing himself deeper into the corner of the pillow, tears overflow his eyes, hot streaks across his face he doesn’t expect. A shiver racks through him, not from the cold.

Tony leans over closer to him, his breath warm even through the blankets and on his exposed arm, his own hand hovering above him in hesitation, the inhibition set across his face. His mentor takes a deep breath in, gently grabbing the back of the couch and placing a kiss to the top of his head. He must’ve really fucked up today, he thinks.

He watches the fear streak across Tony’s eyes, too familiar to Titan. Peter feels deeply rooted in the couch, frozen solid from his core. He doesn’t know what the end of the story is, fear ebbing away, and he really looks at Peter face on. “I’m sorry.”

Peter feels frustrated again, just like the morning when half the world that died was brought back, feeling alone. 

He lets his tears take over him, letting May hold him on the couch, feeling too weak to do anything else. She ends up pulling Peter into her lap again, rubbing circles on her shoulder and letting her own tears escape from her eyes, some falling onto his white t-shirt. He trembles under her, Tony reaching over to squeeze his hand, the arm with an IV. He soothes small circles with his thumb, drawing patterns on his skin and turns to May with owlishly wide eyes.

“It’s alright, kiddo,” Tony whispers. “We’ve got you. May’s got you. Your friends are right here. You’re right here.”

It takes some time, but eventually Peter falls asleep like that, May and Tony’s vice-like grip never once loosening on him.

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Dressed Up, Part 2 of 2 (An I Give Up Deleted Scene)

Genre: Fluff / Smut (18+)

Word Count: 11.9k

A/N: Warnings(AKA goodies): sugar daddy kink, semi-public sex, sensory deprivation, panty sniffing, cum fetish/cum play with marking, cream pie, dirty talk, jeez stfu baek.

[Part 1]

IGU Deleted scenes masterlist

  You hadn’t done much research on the topic, so you couldn't be sure about how likely it was to actually happen, but you were nearly positive you were about to spontaneously combust at any moment. 

The aftereffects of your sexy video call with Baekhyun had left you in about as much of a state as you had ever felt yourself in before. 

 Perhaps your decision to hold off on the easy and quick gratification; to let it go for now and focus on making yourself look beautiful for the evening instead, perhaps that had been a mistake. Your goal, of course, when you pulled yourself up from that bed and forced your body to move back into that bathroom so you could clean yourself up a bit, apply another coat of that lovely scented lotion to your already oversaturated skin, the only goal floating inside your fuzzy mind, was perhaps a little bit rooted somewhere in the realms of revenge. 

 It wasn’t that you were mad. 

 You were just wound up. In an if-I-don’t-get-dicked-down-soon sort of way. You were frustrated. Your skin was sticky-hot to the touch despite the air conditioner in your apartment blasting a frigid temperature over your head and you were certain that if this had been a cartoon, animated heat waves would be visible rising up from the top of your head. 

 This wouldn’t do. You needed to cool off before you slipped on the very expensive and luxurious dress that hung on your closet door; watching you and no doubt judging you for this obviously pitiful display of human malfunction. The garment made of sheer tulle and high-end silky lace with hand-stitched sterling embroidery wouldn’t be caught dead desperately chugging ice water and then sticking it’s entire head into the open freezer door when the ice didn’t cool it down fast enough. 

 You had to just use this. This mood that persisted would have to fuel your every move. 

 You were going to get ready. You would put that dress on and its silky fingers would caress every inch of your hot skin as you slid into place inside of it and it cradled your curves and your bones in its beauty and you would show him and everyone at that party exactly what a truly beautiful and desirable woman could look like. 

 You were just going to have to kill him.

 You’d called ahead for the car. One of the perks of living in this particular apartment high-rise was the car service offered at an insanely expensive, completely unreasonable price. You’d only ever seen Baekhyun use it a handful of times, opting instead to drive his own car most of the time. Tonight was different. Tonight was special and you couldn’t quite see yourself stepping out of a plain old taxi cab onto the steps of the party venue, a luxurious five-star hotel in the heart of Seoul, wearing a dress of this caliber and gussied up in such a way. A taxi? No way.

 No, tonight required an exit from the backseat of a large and mysterious black sedan with blacked-out windows and a personal crisp-suit clad driver who called you ‘Miss’ and when you smiled into your response to his inquiry about where you were headed tonight, he actually stuttered a little bit and turned pink in the cheeks. 

 He was young and adorable and seemed to be hesitant to make eye contact with you in the rearview mirror at the red lights even as you asked him casual questions about how long he’d been driving and where he was from. Satisfied with his short responses and finding little else to ask the man, you let your mind drift in the back of that car as your eyes raked over your own appearance at this very moment. 

 When you were seated, minimally obscured by sheer red tulle, your smooth bare legs were completely visible up until high up on your thighs where the flesh-colored lace underdress began. The expensive elegant strappy heels, the soft skin of your legs, the perfectly manicured red toenails. Even the way you smelled — clean, tastefully perfumed in a new scent you had picked up at the salon — you had never felt quite this clean in your entire life. All of this effort which had been the source of much exhaustion throughout the day suddenly felt invigorating. 

 You looked good. Better than good, you looked like the kind of expensive that most could only dream about and when you shifted in your seat, uncrossing one leg to switch to the other, pointing your toe inside of your shoe and slipping the sheer dress up higher to expose more of the leg you could see the diamonds around your wrist sparking in the night lights of the city despite the dark tinting in the windows; you could still make out some sparks in those magical stones. 

 Slipping easily into your traveling mind came his face. 

 His slight lips; the softness and pinkness you would see in them. The yielding flesh of his cushy cheek that gave just a little when you pressed your lips against them. The goosebumps that would travel up your spine into the back of your scalp and explode over your crown when you would feel him arrive behind you and slip his long fingers over your shoulder. He would coat you slowly but completely as your back connected with him and his hand would move. Lightly touching and reaching for the space over your voice box; his fingers tripping lower over your sternum and grabbing with a hot palm over your breast, before the heat from his breath preceded the soft wetness of his lips on your neck. The warm exhale through his nose as his lips would open up and teeth would bite down on sensitive skin, pulling the flush of your skin to the surface with the suction of his mouth — it would make you melt; would make you moan; would make you acquiesce. 

 A soft sigh from your own body betrayed you.

 There would be rules tonight. Of course, there would. You wouldn't be allowed to touch him freely; nor he, you.

 So... climbing into his lap and fucking him at the dinner table was obviously off-limits. 

 Would you get to dance with him at least?

Could you even stand that? Being held in an embrace while being denied the satisfaction of and encouraging the drift of his hands or the tense grip of his fingertips into the curve of your ass. 

 The daydream had brought a fresh wave of longing and your flushed skin once again prickled and heated. The warm temperature you felt in your thighs intimated to the much warmer, much more compelling heat that taunted from your inmost hollow. 

 A pointed beep sounded out; an impatient driver in the car directly behind honked their horn and you looked up from your hands running lightly over warm thighs to catch the instant your driver looked away from the image of you in his rearview mirror. The car surged forward through the green light that had grown stale with his preoccupation. 

 The feeling was unmistakable. The way you looked tonight was like a tempting and untouchable work of art. Made to be looked at and desired. Dreamed over perhaps. 

 And untouchable by all except for one. 

 The car came to a stop behind a line of cars all similar in price range and you waited for just a moment for the traffic to move through the large archway of the entrance to the hotel. Your invitation said the party would be held in the grand ballroom and there were crowds of people milling around outside, all flanking a central walkway where the occasional dressed up party guest walked. 

 As your car moved closer, the butterflies inside your stomach began to flutter and rise up when you realized that the twinkle of lights you saw was not some flashy hotel signage but was actually the flashbulbs of cameras going off. 

 You thought for sure the crowds of press and fans would have dissipated by now, but it appeared that a good number still remained, keeping a close eye on arriving guests for any sign of glimpsing a beloved celebrity. 

 The cars were moving and your number was up. There was no turning back now. 

 Your driver was out and you held your clutch tightly in the hand that gripped the tulle of your dress. You inhaled a steadying breath and poised yourself for your exit. 

 Your car door opened. You reached for the extended hand of your driver and placed a heeled foot down on the cobblestone of the hotel’s circle drive. 

 You heard voices and shouts and a murmur of sounds from people who clamored around you and a number of bright flashes illuminated your peripheral vision. 

 You were not deaf, nor were you blind. You understood the questions on their voices. You, a regular girl who just happened to have been thrust into this life. You felt like an alien and a little bit of a fraud. Making them believe that you might be somehow worthy of their cameras, yet what other choice did you have? You had to walk this pathway to enter the venue, there was no side entrance for party guests. 

 The ‘Who is she?' and ‘What agency?’ mingled with their best guesses about who you might be. Even approving comments on your style and a few shouts for you to stop and turn for their photos. You gave a stiff smile and a tiny wave and your diamonds sparkled brightly when their flashes exploded. Despite you being a complete nobody in their world of entertainment, you certainly seemed to fit the look of the kind of VVIP that would attend such an event. Pictures were snapped. Curiosities and questions were left unanswered and as you approached the rows of security at the main entrance, you’d hardly had a chance to pull out the exclusive invitation from your sparkly new Tom Ford sequined evening clutch bag before you were simply ushered through the doorway. 

 Nobody even really looked at it. You nearly paused your steps to make sure they really took notice of the invitation — your right to be here, dammit —you’d gone through the trouble of bringing it along with you. But the velvet ropes had been open for a while already and you ran the risk of blowing your cover completely if you questioned the inviting extended hand of the staff-woman who begged for your movement. 

 “Right this way, Miss. Might I know the name of your party?” 

 She walked along and slightly ahead of you. 

 “Byun,” you said softly with just a little bit of that secret taste in your mouth as you spoke his name. You did not have to say his first name, as he would be the only Byun in attendance. Aside from you, of course. 

 “Ahh, very good. Artists of EXO are seated at the front section of tables on the left side. You will find your place labeled as the guest of the artist. Please let me know if you need anything.” 

 She was bowing at the waist and you nodded your thanks, watching the top of her tightly formed bun of black hair that did not raise back up again. You gathered that she might stay there all night, bent in half like that, if you didn’t move to enter the main ballroom doors that were open in front of you. 

 And you were going to go inside, it was just…

 Well…

 The noises inside were loud, boisterous, clanking of glassware, laughing voices, and modern pop music easily reaching your ears through that open doorway and well…

 It was just so scary now. 

 The enormity of this evening was hitting you hard and fast and you turned to look again at the bowing woman to find that, thank god, she was no longer bent in half but standing with her hands folded neatly over her belly and she merely looked at you with an innocuous smile on her face. 

 “Just in there?” You asked the obvious and she smiled a millimeter wider and nodded her head once. 

 You nodded in response and opened your lips to speak again but swallowed it away quickly.

 A deep breath through closed eyes, just for a little more oxygen. A little courage. A few more seconds... One...two... 

 On three you lifted your eyelids and your chin. You straightened your shoulders, aligned your spine, called upon every ounce of confidence you had inside of you to flow into your limbs and command your body...

And you walked. 

 It was really just one several thousand dollar foot in front of the other. No big deal.

 But oh… Oh, the brilliance was staggering.

Opulence, all around. From the enormously tall cathedral ceilings to the several, several enormous crystal chandeliers that added to the incredible lighting display of the ballroom. 

 It was too much to take in — the flowers and greenery that seemed to transform the entire place into a glistening botanical indoor garden to the lights that netted over the ceiling, giving the illusion of a starry night sky. And even the tables — the crisp white linens covering expertly decorated table settings that glowed with candlelight arranged around tall centerpieces made of fresh flowers with enough sparkle and glitz to blind you. 

 It was a fairytale. 

 Ultimately it was recognition that eventually pulled you out of your stunned reverie. Standing just a few feet away from you, holding a glass of champagne and covering her mouth as she laughed at something was, the queen of Kpop, BoA. You felt stunned and star-struck at the same time. She was so much smaller in person than on TV. Even with the tall heels she wore. She was just tiny. And so beautiful

 Oh right, more than just seeing your dear sweet husband who you loved and missed dearly, you would also be right in the middle of this enormous SM Entertainment branded party. Most of the faces you saw were somewhat recognizable to you. And more than just floored that these talented and amazing people were actually real, you were flabbergasted with just how incredibly beautiful they all looked. As if SM itself had the secrets to the fountain of youth and slathered all of their artists with it upon entry into the company. 

 Or perhaps it was just the money that did it. 

 You lifted a palm to rest over your cheek, having seen an image of a glamorous woman in the mirrors that lined the walls near the entrance of the ballroom and realizing that she looked a lot like you. Only it felt impossible that you could compete with the beauty you saw in the faces of the beautiful people all around you. 

 But was it possible? Did you also carry yourself with the same confidence and poise? 

 Should there be any reason why you couldn’t? 

 You were certainly dressed the part. You were successful and intelligent; even without the millionaire husband. You could hold your own in the busy hectic emergency room at the hospital and soon you would be finished with your internship and would be hired full time at the same hospital if you wanted. 

 Hell, you might even skip the ER and make the move to specialize in the ever lucrative field of plastic surgery. You were practically overflowing with potential and there was no reason why you had to feel intimidated by that obviously well-off older gentleman who just walked by you wearing an actual smoking jacket and fuzzy Gucci slippers on his feet; looking quite pleased with himself to be out in public wearing a glorified bathrobe and house shoes. 

 You must have looked at him for too long. 

The old man had turned and locked eyes with you for long enough for your gawking to appear purposeful to him and his lips pulled into a wide grin. Directed right at you. Oh no.

 Your mother had always taught you to be polite to elders and on instinct, you smiled softly and gave a single head nod. Something meant to acknowledge but you did not mean to encourage. 

 When his grin changed into a single eyebrow lift and a swift change in his direction of travel, your smile fell. 

 “New girl group?” He was speaking to you now. You hadn’t even walked very far into the party and you were already having this sort of experience. 

 The man did not wait for you to answer, for now, he was really getting a good look at you. His eyes took you in from head to toe and you blanked out your face, lifting your chin and sighing a little loudly as you averted your eyes and relaxed the arm that held up your clutch bag, letting it drop dramatically and swing along your thigh. You felt it coming and you honestly didn’t want to do this. Come on, old man. 

 “Or maybe someone with more connections?” 

 Your sigh was not meant to be rude. You had no intention of being rude to him, but you were quite used to being leered at by creepy men who still had hope inside of them and you were beginning to lose interest in where this was headed. 

 “Let me buy you a drink?” He said while reaching into his jacket for what you hoped wasn’t a wad of cash. 

 It was a business card and you could see the letters C.E.O. Boldly written beside a name and above that, in larger letters, a company that you knew well. In fact, every time you used the refrigerator and microwave at home you saw his company’s name. 

 “Isn’t this an open bar?” You asked out of genuine curiosity as you looked down at the man’s card. 

 The old man’s eyes widened and he threw his head back as he let out a genuine laugh that pulled at the corners of his lips and his eyes. 

 You couldn’t quite grasp what he found so funny about your question. You could clearly see waitresses and waiters carrying trays of various alcoholic drinks all around you and at the bar across the way, beside the walls covered in golden colored heavy drapery, the liquor was flowing freely without so much as a single bill exchanged. 

 It suddenly occurred to you that he probably didn’t mean he wanted to buy you an actual drink right now, but more along the lines of perhaps buying you several of them at a later date at a fancy hotel bar and then a few more up in a penthouse suite room. You had mistakenly taken his pickup line at face value. 

 He took a moment to recover and rubbed at his eyes. “Beautiful and funny — I like you,” he said, “Will you tell me your name.”  The pattern of his speech took on a more direct delivery and while his request sounded, on the outside, like a question, there was little in his delivery that suggested as such. This man was very important, extremely aware of his own importance, and was not used to having to work very hard to get people to do what he wanted. 

 “I’m sorry, Sir, but I need to go. I am meeting someone. Thank you for the...uhh...the card.” 

 You lifted a, hopefully, polite hand as an apology and gave a small smile of faked regret. 

 “Okay, dinner then. Or anything you want. I will spoil you rotten.” He was leering. It was too much and you shook your head again, with your smile slipping away into what you hoped wasn’t too rude of an expression, however persistent he was, you had to admit you felt a bit amused with the man’s attempts. Perhaps this was how he had come to be so successful in his life. He was just charming enough to keep you from getting mad. Still, you had no idea what kind of power this man had and what trouble he could cause if you weren't careful with your rejection. 

 “I hope you have a lovely evening, Mr. Choi,” you said and you watched the moment of realization that flashed over his eyes. His lips pulled into a small pout and he shrugged lightly and dismissively. 

 “Give me a call if he treats you badly,” he said, pointing a finger down at the card you still held between your fingers. You shook your head and tried your best to hand it back to him. Somehow not wanting to keep this, for fear that such an act might actually be an inappropriate thing to do. He wouldn’t take it back and you sighed, looking down and wondering where you could put this thing. Did you slip it into your purse? Did you put it in the trash? 

 He was gone by the time you looked up and you walked further into the ballroom, where you began to recognize more and more faces of partygoers. 

 Names were fuzzy. You recognized the faces of group members. NCT there, a few of them at least. Red Velvet was over there. Probably not all of them. OH! A few faces from Super Junior and was that PSY? Your mind was overwhelmed. You made eye contact with Johnny Seo and you quickly looked away from the man. You tried your best to play it cool. No big deal. Just Johnny from NCT. Oh god, he was looking at you. Why was he looking? You were just a nobody. Wow, he was handsome in person.

 You saw his height first and a feeling of relief bubbled up inside your chest to see the wide toothy grin of Park Chanyeol as he talked and laughed with someone shorter whose face was obscured by other guests. But Chanyeol was like a beacon. Like a street sign that directed your travel. You could always see him in the crowd and if you just traveled toward him, you would be sure to find Baekhyun somewhere close by. 

 North Star Park Chanyeol would lead the way. You would follow him to find your love.

 A waitress passed by carrying a tray of champagne glasses and she paused in front of you for a moment to give you a chance to grab one. 

 Your nerves were reaching new heights and you had agreed with yourself to keep it to a 2 drinks per hour limit tonight. It was a party, after all, and you were pretty certain that two would keep you just social enough to be able to handle looking at all of these untouchable people in the face without shrinking into yourself or falling to their feet to worship them. Two drinks as a limit would also keep you from being drunk. You could still control yourself with two drinks. This drink would be your first. You reached for the glass after slipping the C.E.O.’s business card that you, impossibly, still had under your thumb and your bag.

 The champagne was of high quality and went down smoothly. You downed the entirety of the glass before you realized how you must look to the casual observer and you made a quick glance around yourself to survey the situation. 

 You were met with eye contact and a smile. Again, it was Johnny, who seemed to be, beyond all reason, still paying close attention to you despite the small group of people who he stood amongst. Members of his group. A giggling pretty girl touching his arm, begging for his attention. 

 Damn the eye contact and damn the amused smile of that man that watched you. 

 The waitress was back and you placed the empty glass on her tray. 

 It felt like a magnet. The pull to look back at your witness. It was mostly the embarrassment of your awkward moment being caught, but you gave in to the urge too easily and of course, he was still watching you, only this time his smile had changed to a chuckle and a head shake. 

 Now was not the time for shame. You were gorgeous and you were here to have fun. Perhaps to make some new friends too. You grabbed for champaign number two from a tray that walked by and you lifted the glass in his direction with a smile and a lift of your eyebrows. He lifted his own glass into the air and the little exchange pulled the smile to your lips to match his. 

 Maybe you would ask Baekhyun to introduce you later. 

 The groups of people mingling, chatting, and networking grew a bit denser and you wove between the crowds, brushing a bit close behind Oh Sehun who spun around quickly and did a double-take when he realized who you were. He did a wide-eyed full body once over of you and his lips pulled into a friendly smile. 

 “Oh my god, look at you — You look incredible!” He said noisily and his arms wrapped around your shoulders as he leaned down to plant a soft kiss against your cheek. Sehun had always been one of your favorites. 

 “It’s so good to see you, Sehun,” you said, and you meant it. While he was a close and reliable friend, his schedule was just as busy as your husband’s and you found that you didn’t get to just sit and chat with him nearly as much as you would have liked. Occasions to see him, such as this, were extremely precious and rare. 

 And while part of you longed to stay here and catch up on all you had missed in the life of the tall dark and handsome man who stood before you also noticed the interesting body language of the girl he had been chatting with and the way she quickly and discreetly pulled her hand away from his forearm, averting her eyes and looking down and away from him in the presence of someone she did not know. 

 You leaned a bit closer to him and glanced pointedly toward the girl; a silent question on the subtle nod of your head. 

 Sehun’s lips parted and he inhaled. A pregnant silence sitting for a moment on his tongue before he leaned down to whisper something into her ear that sent her head shaking back and forth in quiet protest. You heard a soft whine from Sehun in response. 

 “Actually,” Sehun’s voice was very low now and you could see the grin on his lips as he gave actual voice to what was clearly some sort of secret between the two of them. 

 “Sehun,” you heard her voice give out an obvious warning. 

 True to his character though, Sehun didn’t heed the warning.

 He was never one to do the expected and you heard the long sigh of defeat from the girl who now shot daggers up into the side of his face and then quickly looked at you with her eyebrows raised, ready to defend.

 “Actually, this is my gi—” 

 “Actually, I am...part of his security team,” she spoke over him quickly and the conviction in her voice wavered some when he looked down at her with disbelief written all over his face. You heard another whine, this time much stronger and he reached for her fingertips, gripping her hand to swing it back and forth. 

 “But you said—” 

 “I said I would think about it, Oh Sehun—you can‘t always just do whatever you want.” 

 There was obviously something vitally important happening between these two and you waved a quick hand and gave a sheepish smile to Sehun as you made your way away from the bickering couple, suddenly invigorated by seeing more and more people who were closely connected to Baekhyun; he had to be close by. 

 There were just so many people. 

 Your eyes searched every face and when a laughing woman tipped her head back with a particularly violent burst of amusement you caught a glimpse of light pink hair just behind her. Your heart leaped.

 And when that woman moved you saw broad shoulders filling out a crisp black tailored suit jacket. You saw the outline of his strong back. The instantly recognizable shape of his hips filling the same black slacks you’d seen him zipping up a little over an hour earlier. 

 He turned his head to the right and when you caught a glimpse of his beautiful profile the impact of it was significant — pink lips, pointed chin and all; he was smiling wide; breathtakingly brilliant. His straight white teeth, his beautiful neck— Baekhyun was talking to someone, and she was leaning in, laughing easily at his jokes and her fingertips reached for him, intending to lightly brush over the smooth crisp fabric of the suit, right over his firm chest.

 The instant she reached you saw him move, his balance shifted and he leaned away. Her touch had just missed him. It was such a subtle gesture that it looked entirely coincidental. Had it not been for the smallest shift in his feet, one might have thought their timing was just a little off. That this man hadn’t intentionally avoided the touch. But you knew him very well and he was always incredibly insightful even down to his body language. 

 The eye contact that she attempted was frantic. You could see it in the way her gaze reached for his eyes. Desperate for any little bit of a connection she could get. 

 But Baekhyun was looking down at his watch and when she gave up and turned to find someone else to flirt with, his eyes left hers and lingered above her head, floating past the many faces of the people around, he seemed to be searching the room for something...for you.

 Looking and looking...

 Your heart rate increased and you gripped the stem of your champagne glass tightly as you downed half of the drink. His search would come to fruition now. He would reach you soon.

 You could practically count it down with each deep breath of oxygen you pulled into your lungs.

 On the third exhale his eyes found yours and the search was over. 

 He had found you.

 Baekhyun’s face held steady for exactly two seconds before you saw the swift rise of his chest and parting of his lips as they hung open in surprise. 

 He took his time with it. 

 Perhaps it only felt longer to you. 

 From your view of him, only a few feet away, you watched the tick of his irises as his eyes traveled from your face, down, with a pause at your neck, another at your chest, then much too slowly down to the floor and then he screwed his eyes shut tightly; overcome for just a moment. 

 His hand reached for the tray that passed by and grabbed a glass of champagne. He held it up, opened his mouth, and tossed the golden liquid back with enough quickness to be able to place the empty glass back on the very same tray before the serving staff moved on. 

 Oh, this wouldn’t work. It had been too long since you’d seen him in person. His skin was clear and lovely. The volume of his cheeks was softer; his cheekbones less angular. Angelic even. His hair had grown some. You’d always been weak to pink. He was looking at you with a building intensity in his eyes and it was smoldering. 

 How would you manage this? 

 He was so beautiful. You found the simplest of things difficult. Breathing in particular — he looked like a fucking prince. How could you get your lungs to work when he was easily the most beautiful man you had ever seen? 

 Like the swing of the compass needle, your entire body was drawn to his magnetic pole and you gave in so easily. 

 You wanted to run. You wanted to throw yourself into his open arms and taste the rough collision of his skin on yours. His muscles and his bones would smash against yours. 

 Instead, you pushed it down. You shoved down hard with every bit of your fortitude and when you found yourself within whispering distance of him you watched the view of his incoming lips until they blurred and vanished and you felt the light brush of those soft lips as he lightly kissed your cheek. 

 It was the same sort of friendly greeting as Sehun had given you mere moments earlier but Baekhyun’s hand lightly trailed along your waist, finding the place where the back of your dress dipped down low and exposed the small of your back. 

 His fingertips lingered there and his touch might as well have been an electric shock. 

 He pulled back but the fire inside his eyes did not lessen. 

 “I thought I was ready,” he said under his breath and he inhaled a deep breath which he exhaled through parted lips. You could smell the sweetness of the champagne on his exhale. 

 “But, what the hell? How can you be this pretty? I need to sit down.” 

 You’d underestimated how badly you would want to touch him. You longed to reach for his hand, slip an arm around his waist. Slide your hand into his suit jacket and slip your fingertips into the waistband of his pants. Tiny things you’d always done very comfortably like a palm on his face, a kiss on his lips, your fingernails raked over the scalp at the back of his head; suddenly completely off-limits to you and you held on to the props that filled your hands for dear life. 

 He had moved to a table and pulled out a chair. He sat down roughly with a groan and his entire body moved with agitation. 

 “Can I sit with you?” You felt so on guard with your actions that you began to second guess every one of your moves before you did it and he was leaning on his elbows with his hands fisted together right in front of his face. 

 “Yeah.”  His answer was short and well controlled. His legs were shaking under the table. 

 His eyes found their way to you and followed as you pulled out the chair beside him. You sat down, finally having somewhere to place the drink and bag you’d clung so tightly to since arriving. 

 “What’s that?” 

 He’d noticed the white business card that sat under your bag and he reached for it with his fingertips. 

 Baekhyun held it up to his face and his eyes were moving over it, eyebrows instantly furrowing together. 

 “Some old man gave me his card when I arrived.” 

 Baekhyun lifted brown eyes up roughly and his lips pulled into a hard line. 

 “Who?” 

 You lifted a single eyebrow and kept the smile free from your lips. 

 Good ol’ Baekhyun. At least he was reliable. 

 “Some eccentric millionaire who wants to be my new sugar daddy.” 

 As soon as you were through the sentence Baekhyun had leaned forward with the card held out between his index and middle finger and he pushed the card through the opening of your champagne glass, fully submerging the paper within the wetness of the alcohol. He left the card there and rose to his feet. 

 “Hey!” You put your best into it; fake-protesting the destruction of such a valuable business card. “But, he said he would spoil me rotten, Baek.”

 He reached down for your hand, gripped tightly around your wrist and pulled you up behind him. 

 “Tell me you want to be spoiled rotten. I dare you to say it.” 

 He had turned to speak to you in a low growl as you followed behind, your arm still held within the grip of his hand and the sensation of this one hand on you was exhilarating. You’d grown so desperate for him to touch you for so long that even this had sent the butterflies in your stomach flying again. 

 He dropped your hand and you looked around to see unfamiliar faces laughing and talking amongst themselves. 

 “Friends, okay? We are just friends to these people. Come. I have to mingle and try to act normal.” 

 For the first hour or so, you felt a bit like a puppy following its master. You didn’t exactly know many people here, apart from EXO members, of which there were several who had greeted you cheerfully. 

 With the new faces, you performed well enough. Smiling and introducing yourself comfortably. You found that most of his friends and acquaintances didn’t question the friendship beyond the initial explanation. By this far into the evening, many of them had already been drinking. What you did notice, was the lingering looks you received from a good number of the men, and at least two eye rolls from some catty women who seemed to take exception with you for existing within their eyesight. 

 It wasn't something you could control, and you didn’t care as much as you thought you might for the scorning looks. Envy was a bitch, but your champagne was tasty, at least. 

 Alcohol was one thing, but your stomach was beginning to crave something else when party guests began to make their way back to their tables for the dinner to begin. 

 There would be speeches and an award presentation for the company during the meal. 

 The food was delicious, albeit a little hard to focus on with Baekhyun sitting beside you, tapping his knee against your knee below the table. 

 When the lights dimmed for a musical presentation you missed the meaning of romantic ballad being belted out because Baekhyun’s hand had reached for yours below the table and he was running slow and deliberate circles into the palm of your hand with a pointed index finger. He used just enough pressure for it not to tickle and when you focused on the shape he was drawing you realized there was a point at the bottom and a dip at the top. A heart. Again and again, a pretty secret etched into your skin with a wandering hand. 

 What you wouldn’t give for just one hour alone with him. 

 The lights remained dim after the performance, and Baekhyun quietly excused himself for the bathroom, leaving you at the table with a fresh glass of cola with a splash of whiskey. 

 A DJ on the stage filled the silence after the applause with high volume, high energy music that blasted through the sound system around the ballroom. 

 People were drinking. The music was too loud for casual conversation, but a lean in, a hand on a shoulder and a few giggles and nods was all it took for people to rise from their seats, finish off the last of whatever drink they had been nursing, and take to the dance floor. 

 The joyous mood was infectious; you loved this song. Your body moved on its own; bobbing your head and drumming your fingers to the beat on the table surface. 

 “You look like you need to be out there dancing with somebody.” 

 The voice came from right behind you and you turned to find the source.

 You’d yet to have an introduction with him and you felt rather starstruck looking at him up close; finding Johnny standing there with a small smile on his face speaking to you about things like dancing and your apparent need for it, stopped your head bobbing and finger tapping and made your jaw drop; the alcohol buzzing inside of you kept you loose enough to keep from jumping up and down and asking for an autograph.

 He was tall. You pushed up from the chair you had been occupying and stumbled just a little to put a bit of space between you both so you could look up at him.

 “Oh, no. I’m very happy with watching.” 

This evening didn’t need to get any more surreal than it already was. 

 “So are you, umm, I noticed you are sitting with Baekhyun—” 

 What exactly was happening right now? It must have been the champagne that made his cheeks look a little flushed and made his voice unsteady. 

 “What about me?” 

 Baekhyun was back. He did say he would only be gone for a moment. 

 “Ahh...Baekhyun,” Johnny spun when you did and the three of you stood like points on a triangle facing each other. “So are you going to introduce me to your girlfriend?”

 Baekhyun’s eyes flashed to you and you looked at him with for guidance here. It felt like a standoff. After all, this was his world and outside of his ridiculous good looks, impressive height, amazing dancing, and smooth rapping in one of your (secretly) favorite K-pop groups ever (a fact you would deny until death), you really didn’t know much else about Johnny. 

 “Actually,” Baekhyun was still looking at you as he spoke and you could hear the clench of his jaw as the words pushed out slowly, no doubt grabbing to hold on to his teeth and the sides of his lips as he forced them out, “we’re just friends.” 

 He reacted strongly the f word. As if he’d just straight up cussed in front of his grandmother. 

 Johnny looked from Baekhyun to you and back again at Baekhyun who actually followed wherever Johnny looked like he was watching a sports match. 

 “Oh,” Johnny said in a bright and chipper tone. 

 “In that case, would you like to dance with me?” 

 He was speaking to you. You had a wide smile on your face. And it was genuine. You couldn’t help it. You had a little shuffle in your shoulders already from the music that played overhead and you looked toward your husband who was looking down at his foot and kicking at the carpet with as subtle of a pout as you had ever seen on him. He looked up into your bright smiling face, not matching your enthusiasm one bit.

 “Do I?” You whispered excitedly and covered a little laugh that escaped. 

 He looked into your excited face and exhaled into an eye roll. 

 “Baekhyun, Oppa!” A high pitched shrill voice pierced your eardrums and popped your happy little bubble with her bouncing up and down inside your line of sight. She was inside of the triangle, uninvited.

 She was like a chihuahua and she obviously believed she was on ‘Oppa’ terms with your dear husband. 

 “Baekhyun, dance with me,” she was whining and pleading and his arm was already being pulled and bounced all over. 

 She, as Baekhyun quickly introduced to you, was Sana and she was a junior at his company who he had been so helpful toward when she was new and still unsure of the ropes. 

 What was immediately evident was that this little girl had a silly little crush and she would have declared her immense gratitude to the man for telling her the time lunch was served or informing her where the bathroom was. It didn’t take much to impress her when Baekhyun was involved. 

 “I guess we’re dancing then,” Baekhyun gave in and Sana squealed not unlike a happy little piglet with a fresh pile of slop. 

 The excitement you felt about getting to dance with one of your favorite idols was just a little bit dimmer as you watched the pair of them hop off to join the crowds on the dance floor and while your expensive heels gave you some height to work with, Johnny was much taller than Baekhyun was and it took you almost the entire first half of the song to find a comfortable rhythm with him. 

 Although with Baekhyun it was never in public, when he pulled you up with both hands from the sofa and made you yelp in surprise laughter with the twirls to the beat of some ridiculous song that caught his ear on the radio, or when the song shifted and his arms wound tighter around your waist and his steps slowed to the romantic ballad that he sang along to in your ear, you never experienced an off step. Not with him. 

 Not like the awkward steps you tried to discreetly correct with Johnny. From where you were on the dance floor, you could see the expert ease with which Baekhyun and Sana danced. They kept a decent distance from each other, and of course, she was smiling and laughing like a maniac. 

 Baekhyun’s focus was light and loose on her. His dancing was effortless and still looked professional. Of course, he was a professional, but they didn’t have to look so damn good together. She was small and pretty, of course. Positively ripe and begging to be tasted. But Baekhyun, no, his focus drifted over to you while he danced. Looking absolutely beautiful and perfect as he moved his body. 

 You, on the other hand, you imagined to the outside observer, might look like one of those inflatable signs they set up outside of businesses. The ones designed to attract attention for being ridiculous with its flailing arms and offbeat torso movements. A calamity in a pretty dress and heels. 

 It definitely wasn’t Johnny’s fault. He was doing great. He was working with what you gave him in downright adorable ways and soon, your missteps turned into smiling and when Johnny let out the first loud laugh after you had stepped on his foot for the third time, you found it difficult to keep up the fragile composure you’d been desperately holding on to. 

 “I’m sorry, I think I might be a very bad dancer,” you laughed and he laughed harder, reaching out to try and connect with you in some other way, with a hand along your waist. You felt the warmth of his fingers along the skin of your lower back and when you actually relaxed and paid closer attention to his touch, you found that if you just let your body listen to what he was telling you with his movements, that it wasn’t so hard to follow him along. You just had to give in to him. 

 “There you go!” He cheered when you’d done something he was pleased with and you held on to his arm and his waist a little bit tighter when he spun you in a dizzying circle, laughing all the while.

 By the end of the song, his warmth was all around you. Never in your wildest fantasies did you imagine that you would have this sort of intimate familiarity with the way Johnny Seo of supergroup NCT smelled after a vigorous round of dancing; with just a light sheen of sweat actually visible on the surface of his skin. 

 Still, the song had finished and you stood completely still, the spell of his arms still around you despite the opening rhythm of the next song beginning to play overhead. 

 Johnny was looking at your face with an unwarranted and serious expression in his eyes with no traces of the lighthearted laughter from before. You were the one to take the first step back from him, breaking the trance he had been under. He let you go, but his hands remained in an embraced position for a good second or two after you were out of them. 

 You straightened your dress some, noticing how the deep plunge of your neckline had slipped and made a bit more of your skin visible, particularly between your breasts. You should have used the double sided tape. At least you had avoided a full flash, but damn this sexy dress didn’t mix very well with dancing. When you pulled your eyes up to the spot where Baekhyun and Sana had been you expected to see them both pulling away from the dance floor and heading toward the tables. 

 What you saw was a single pair of achingly familiar black eyes set on you. 

 He was watching you. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the spot Baekhyun occupied was at least three shades darker than the rest of the room; from the completely obvious storm cloud that sat over his head. 

 How long had he been watching? 

Had he ended his dance with Sana early just so he could stand there and burn in flames as another man danced with you like that? 

Did he see the laughing and the touching too? 

 Would he be consumed by it now? 

 You had to look away. Your skin was buzzing with an electric feeling. You could hardly stand it.

 You quietly thanked Johnny for the dance and excused yourself for the bathrooms and made your way away from the bustle for a moment of peace. 

 A moment of quiet, where those dark eyes could not set you on fire.

 Your respite was short. You returned to the party but lingered on the outskirts. 

 Would Baekhyun be dancing with Sana again? Or someone other pretty young thing? 

 You scanned the crowds, searching for the familiar light cotton candy pink of the top of his head. 

 It was darker in here than it had been when you’d first found him and all of your casual searching came up empty. 

 Until a light touch on the back of your elbow pulled your attention just behind you. 

 “Here you are,” Baekhyun whispered and the sight of his face was instant relief. How did he do that? Just seeing his face in person calmed your soul. Quenched the needs you didn’t even know you were longing for. 

 “Dance with me,” he said. His hand was up, waiting for yours and you gave it. 

 “Will it be okay?” 

 “No,” he mirrored your unease what a confession of his own, “this is definitely going to kill me.”

 At least the song was upbeat. At least the dancing was fast and fun and involved laughter and spinning and cute noises he made with his mouth into your ear as he warned you about the next move. A spin, a dip, and ’one two one one, one two one one, I said one TWO one one, that was my foot, darling,’ At least it was fun enough to distract you from the warmth of his hands as they held onto you. At least the quick movement of your feet kept you from standing too still inside his embrace; from feeling it too much. You had little time to get used to the overwhelmingly wonderful smell of him within his suit jacket if you only got quick short bursts of it.

 And when the song ended and another began he was pulling you again, asking for another dance. Just one more. You could have another dance with this man without it being too dangerous, right? The lights were dim enough, and guests were occupied with their own dance partners. Plus with how much they had all been drinking, surely another dance would raise no alarms. 

 Of course, you gave in. There was no harm in this. When would you ever get another chance? 

 The second song ended too quickly. Upbeat danceable pop songs these days were infuriatingly short in length. They should all be at least a minute longer. At minimum. You released his hands and felt the cool air of the room replace his body heat and you took a step back from him when the next song began. 

 It was a ballad; a slow romantic love song. 

 The opening piano chords played overhead. A glance around you showed couples responding to the song. Some left, some stayed. You were thankful for the darkness around you that obscured their faces well enough to give the scene just a little bit of privacy. 

 You’d been prepared to leave. You’d even pivoted on your heels and began to walk back, back to your table, back to a fresh drink of something cold to battle the heat, back to a reality that did not allow for this sort of grand romantic moment with the man you loved more than anyone else in existence. What you hadn’t let yourself hope for was the way he reached for you with a low hand, and pulled you hard; pulled you back into his arms.

 The force of the way he pulled made you spin in a little teetering circle and you collided with all of the warmth and firmness of his chest. Baekhyun’s arms encircled you, moving down to your waist and the darkness of the dance floor gave you just enough of a cover to hide the intense flush you felt flooding your cheeks. 

 “Baek—” your voice came out in a single whispered breath pushed straight from your lungs. 

 “I need this,” he said through gritted teeth.

 “But, what if...someone—”

 “Fuck them. I need this, right now.” His voice was a low and dangerous whisper against your ear and the music drifted all around, matching the beat he swayed with. 

 He was leading you and you melted into the smell of him, laying your forehead against his shoulder and allowing your air to come from the crook of his neck. 

 And you danced with him. 

 Just as you often daydreamed you might have slow danced with him on your wedding day. Had that day gone differently. 

 As the song played on, you could feel the change in him. The spell was working its magic on the both of you and you gave in to the embrace with a hand slipped inside of his parted jacket. Just to feel his warmth and life easier. You were greedy for him. 

 You wanted to forget who he was and where you were. The softness of his fingers as they ran along the small of your back didn’t help. You were intoxicated by his touch. Was he singing along now? That sweet lullaby in his perfect voice tickled along your eardrums as the darkness around you both enveloped and teased. 

 You had drifted. Quite literally with the dance when you finally pulled your eyelids open you had found that he’d led you toward a quiet corner off the side of the dance floor. Far away from the groups of people that danced, it was much darker here along the wall where the thick golden colored drapery covered whatever color paint the walls might have been before. 

 The netted twinkle lighting that covered the ceiling had no effect here in your dark corner where his arms held you tight and you stood completely still quite deafened by the pounding of your heart inside of your ears. 

 When Baekhyun took another step back you could see that he was about to hit the thick curtains. He would run out of places to retreat. There was only so far into the darkness that he could go before he simply ran out of pathway to travel. 

 The surprise came when he took yet another step and pulled the curtain away from the wall where it hung heavy. He stepped behind it, into the complete and utter blackness behind there and the momentum with which he pulled made you surge forward, toward him, with the quick movement. 

 And every bit of light was gone. The dark was absolute.

 There hadn’t been much light to work with before this, but inside this dark space with one side of you, a wall, the other side the heavy fabric of a curtain and in between you both stood in the space, only enough room to stand and nothing except for the closeness and low and heavy breathing from his lungs you heard and felt along your cheek. 

 “Baekhyun, what are you doing? I can’t see anything” 

 “But you can hear me,” he said against the side of your face. The sound of his voice was incredibly clear in here. The heavy drapes were muting the sounds from the other side. 

 You felt the warmth of his fingertips along your face, running slowly from your jaw line up to your ear and behind. 

 Your breathing felt too fast. You couldn’t see anything, but his warmth was too much.

 “And you can feel me.”

 Without your eyes to tell you he was coming, you had to rely entirely on touch. The sensation of his warm exhale along your jawline where his fingers had been. His hand had moved to behind your neck and you felt the plush softness of his lips traveling lightly along your face. 

 He let out the smallest moan a second before his lips reached yours and his mouth opened over yours, claiming you. He was demanding. The desperation you knew he had felt all night, the same desperation you had felt all night, boiling over now with this single needy and unrelenting kiss. 

 When he pulled away from the kiss it was for a gasp of air and you felt yourself too affected for this to be just one kiss. 

 You reached for him again, a hand wrapping around the back of his neck to pull him down you connected your lips to his once more, reveling in the way he gave in to your kiss so readily. 

 But he pulled away once more; clearly something on his mind to pull his lips away from yours. 

 You wished for some light so you could look into his eyes just once. 

 Why would he steal you away in this secret and dark space only to keep you at this weird arm's length? 

 “Did you have fun?” His question was a dull whisper into the space directly in front of your face. 

 Did he mean the party? 

 “It’s been nice,” you said in a whisper that matched his in volume but not in the strange intensity.

 “Dancing with him?” He breathed out the second half of his question that you had interrupted with your misunderstanding. 

 “I think— I think I must be the more loyal one, between the two of us. I didn’t even touch her once, and yet… he wants to fuck you, you know.” 

 “Baekhyun.” You said in a much more controlled voice. 

 You could hear his rough exhales now. He was losing control of himself. But part of you knew. You’d seen it too; that flash of desire inside of Johnny’s eyes. 

 “He’s not going to get to fuck me. You know that.” 

 You reached for him. Your hands landing somewhere along his stomach and he did not retreat. 

 “You’re his fan.” 

 This wasn’t a question. You heard no traces of doubt in his voice and you were thankful for the darkness now. You had no response. You felt caught off guard by it. 

 “Why so quiet, love. You look at him with the same expression of pure fucking delight that you have when you watch that baking show you love so much. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Did you honestly believe that it was something you could keep from me?”

 You were stuck; your hands were still touching him, gripping with your fingertips around his shirt. Then he moved and you felt his hand slip over the back of your right hand. He gripped hard and pulled your hand off of him until you released his shirt and relaxed your grip within his hold. 

 “I know you, baby. Did you forget how well I know you? I know you...inside and out.”  

 He rotated your hand, moving it down lower so that your open palm was laid directly over his dick. He was very hard below the slacks. Your mind was swimming and you moved your hand over the bulge that you felt there. The overwhelming effect you had on him. The way he wanted you, just as badly as you wanted him. 

 “I don’t blame him. Or any of them. You—” his voice hitched once when you squeezed over him, slipping a hand up the length of his erection, not finding the end, as it disappeared somewhere behind the waistband of his pants. “—fuck, you…are, the most beautiful woman in this entire place.” 

 “I don’t want any of them, Baek. There’s only one person I want.”

 You reached for the button of his slacks and popped it open, struggling against the pressure from behind. The zipper caught halfway down and you didn’t get to feel the smooth skin of his dick before he was talking again. Before he was wrecking you with the filthy words he whispered into your ear.

 “Did you enjoy wearing my gifts tonight, baby? Did you like being seen in them?”

 You felt the tips of his fingers trailing over the diamond bracelet you wore around your wrist. His head dipped and you heard the sound of his mouth opening as he pulled one of your diamond earrings in between his lips and lightly sucked on it. Letting it go with a gentle pop which he followed with another kiss on your neck, just below your ear. He inhaled to speak again. 

 “I have to confess, I loved seeing you in them. I loved the way they looked at you tonight and thought ‘Ahh...she’s somebody’s. Someone really loves her a lot.’ I want, so badly, for them to know whose wife they are fantasizing about when they think about fucking you.”

 You could only focus on your own breathing. Part of your mind tried to remind yourself that while this darkened curtain gave the illusion of privacy, you should really keep your mind about you. You were in a very public place right now, playing this very dangerous game with this man who had lost every bit of his own self-control. 

 “Because, my sweet, darling girl, that is what they are thinking. When they see you in this dress, that’s what he was thinking. I bet he jerks off tonight dreaming about how good your pussy must feel. But I guarantee, his hand will never compare to you.”

 He surged with motion and spun you by the shoulders and pressed you against the wall. He was at your back and one of his hands reached around, slipping inside of your dress and squeezing and kneading your breast.

 “I know he wants to bend you over, lift up this pretty little skirt and slip his dick inside of you...like only I get to do.” 

 You could not help the way your body responded to him. Your desperation reached new heights as you bent at the waist and pushed your ass toward him. You felt the grind of his dick when he gave you just a little of what you wanted. The words he whispered made you lose your sanity. You felt the fabric of your dress move. You felt the air up high on your thighs. Higher even, he pushed the dress up, baring your ass with his roaming hands. You knew he could only feel with his wandering hands, without any speck of light in here. 

 “Do you want me to do that, baby? Do you want me to fill you up with my cum? Do you want to feel it dripping out of you as you dance with him?”

 “Fu—Baek—” Words malfunctioned. He was too much. Eternally. Without exception. The man was too much. 

 You had worn the lace panties. They helped with your wetness only just, but it was better than nothing. You felt his hands slipping between the lace, landing over your bare skin as he began to pull them down. 

 You felt the slip of fabric and pushed your knees together to aid in their removal. He was low, crouching on his ankles to remove your panties from around the heels you wore and you wondered about the special attention he paid to them. 

 Then the swish of fabric flowed slowly beside your face. Slow enough for the inhale of breath and the scent of your own arousal to tickle your nostrils. Immediately after the fabric left, you heard his deep inhale from behind you, followed by his low appreciative moan. He shifted and you assumed he pocketed them. 

 “I’m keeping these,” he said, “I want you to drip.” 

 There was more movement and you flinched and whimpered when you felt the lightest touch of his fingers between your bare thighs. You were so wet. You were so desperate. 

 Only sounds followed. A zipper pulled and the sibilant sound of fabric, a rustle and then warmth. A hand on your hips, then moving below and your indelicate whimper and then the pressure came. 

 You were so wet there was no resistance as he sunk into you and your lips parted with a hiss as he filled you entirely in one motion. You could not help the short high cry that betrayed you and his hand rose to plant a hot palm firmly over your open mouth. 

 He held you there, thoroughly held in place with two hands, one pressing heavy over your mouth and the other gripping hard into your bare hip and he moved again; fast and rough and you shifted against the wall that had nowhere to hold on. 

 You felt completely had; in that moment, as the small crawl space of darkness grew uncomfortably warm and what precious little fresh oxygen grew sticky and humid, you were consumed. Eaten up. Used by this man in the most satisfying of ways. The rough pounding slapped hard into you and the steady thumping of some dance song just outside of that curtain provided a perverse soundtrack of this forbidden sex. It was raw and it was exhilarating. If only you could get a little more air. Your mind grew dizzy and lightheadedness mingled with the rough pounding against your insides making you shake and tremble as your hands slipped and your legs gave way with the orgasm.

 It swallowed you up so completely you only barely noticed the way he stiffened and trembled behind you. You felt the telltale signs of his climax with the tiny tremors that pulsed with each burst of heat inside of you and when he went still enough to loosen then cover over your mouth you gasped in for the precious air he had deprived you of so completely. 

 You were gasping too hard. This dark damp space was too warm now and the comedown from the high was a slow one. 

 Baekhyun was motionless as he struggled to catch his breath and after a moment you heard his low throaty voice again reach your ear. 

 “This is what is going to happen—”

 Your eyes were closed but you opened them to listen to his words, despite seeing absolutely nothing when you did. 

 “I am going to pull my dick out, and there will be a mess. You see, I’ve been saving myself for you, my love. Nothing, and I do mean absolutely nothing compares to the feeling of filing you up with my cum.” 

 You felt yourself squeeze around him as he spoke. It was involuntary. The effects of him. It was just his power. 

 “Are you listening to me, baby? You feel a little distracted.” 

 He’d felt you, of course.  

 You nodded your head once and exhaled through your parted lips. 

 “I’m listening,” you said. 

 “Good. This is what will happen. I will leave first.” You nodded along as he spoke, trying not to be too distracted by the feeling of his size receding. 

 “And I will go upstairs and book a suite for the night. Now just because I’m leaving early doesn’t mean you can’t have fun, My Baby. I want you to enjoy the rest of the party. I want you to dance some more. With whoever you want to dance with. And I want you to feel me all over your skin as you do that. Can you do that for me?” 

 He’d done it. He’d pulled himself out and you felt the rush of liquid slipping out of your entrance and rushing between your legs, messing up the smooth clean skin of your thighs and lower. You felt a drip sliding down, a crawling sticky thick wet trail that was pulled by gravity. It reached the inside of your knees and when you squeezed them together in some attempt to contain it, the sticky wetness merely spread around. 

 Surely you’d have a mess on the dress. Maybe even trailing down to ankle and dripping over the expensive shoes. 

 He ran a hand then, slipping his long fingers between your thighs directly into the mess, he emerged with a wetness for which he had a purpose. 

 Pinching wet fingers on your exposed nipple, he rubbed until the slick grew tacky. 

 “You’ll join me in my room for the night after you dance. I’ll bring you a key. I might even come down again just to watch you enjoying yourself.” 

 “I...didn’t bring anything else to wear, for tomorrow, Baek.” There was a slight whine to your voice. You heard it and he certainly heard it. 

 Then you heard the smallest chuckle. A laugh from somewhere in the darkness and there were sounds of his zipper. 

 “You are so cute. I’ll buy you something new. Something pretty.”

 A flash of light from the curtain surprised you and you watched the small bit of light seem to swallow up his outline and he was gone.

 You straightened the dress. You counted to 100. You then emerged from the darkness into the dimly lit empty space of this secret corner and you made your way quickly to the bathrooms. 

 You gave yourself a once over in the mirror. Much as you had expected, you looked as if you had been thoroughly fucked in a hot dark hole in the wall and it took a bit of smoothing and straightening for to bring yourself back to a somewhat normal state. 

 While you couldn’t do much about the bright red bruise you saw just behind your earlobe, you managed to at least get your appearance more toward ‘possibly just drunk’ and away from ‘definitely just fucked.’ 

 You did not touch the mess between your legs. The arousal that still pulsed through your veins was fueled even further with each step you took. 

 Out of the bathroom you walked with purpose. The music was pulsing and each heavy beat of the song was another step toward the dance floor and you made eye contact with an achingly familiar face. One that lit up with a bright smile to see you and of course he was so damn willing to dance with you. 

 It was halfway through the dance when you saw a flash of color. A familiar head of cotton candy pink pushed between you and Johnny on the dance floor. 

 His steps did not slow but you felt the hard plastic of something being shoved into the palm of your hand. You looked down instantly.

 A hotel key card, marked with two words that made your lungs inflate and your heart surge inside of your chest. 

 Pent House 

 You didn’t even try to contain the laughter that flew freely from your lips. 

 Byun Baekhyun was, once again, without exception, entirely too much. 

IGU Deleted scenes masterlist

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My quick review of the ASUS XG27UQ monitor (4K, HDR, 120Hz)

I originally wanted to tweet this series of bullet points out but it was getting way too long, so here goes! I got this to replace a PG278Q, which was starting to develop odd white stains, and never had good color reproduction in the first place (TN film drawbacks, very low gamma resulting in excessively bright shadows, under-saturated shadows, etc.)

The hardware aesthetic is alright! The bezels may feel a bit large to some people, but I don’t mind them at all. If you’re a fan of the no-bezel look, you’ll probably hate it. There is a glowing logo on the back that you can customize (Static Cyan is my recommendation), but it isn’t bright enough to be used as bias lighting, which would’ve been nice.

The built-in stand is decent; it comes with a tacky and distracting light projection feature at the bottom. It felt quite stable, though I don’t care about it because it got instantly replaced by an Ergotron LX arm. (I have two now, I really recommend them in spite of their price.) 

The coating is a little grainy and this is noticeable on pure colors! You can kinda see the texture come through, a bit more than I’d like. Not a huge deal though.

The rest of the review will be under the cut.

The default color preset (”racing mode”), which the monitor is calibrated against, is very vivid and saturated. It looks great! But it’s inherently inaccurate, which bothers me, so I don’t like it. It looks like as if sRGB got stretched into the expanded gamut of the monitor.

sRGB “emulation” looks very similar to my Dell U2717D, whose sRGB mode is factory-calibrated. However, the XG27UQ’s sRGB mode has lower gamma (brighter shadows), so while the colors are accurate, the gamma is not. It feels 1.8-ish. Unless you were in a bright room, it would be inappropriate for work that needs to have accurate shadows. This mode also locks other controls, so it’s not the most useful, but the brightness is set well on it, so it is usable!

The “User Mode” settings use the calibrated racing mode as a starting point, which is a big relief. So it’s possible to tweak the color temperature and the saturation from there! I checked pure white against my Dell monitor and my smartphone (S9+) and tried to reach a reasonable 3-way compromise between them, knowing that the Dell is most likely the most accurate, and that Samsung also allegedly calibrates their high-end smartphones well. My configuration ended up being R:90/G:95/B:100 + SAT:42. This matches the saturation of the U2717D sRGB mode fairly closely. You also get to choose between 1.8, 2.2, and 2.5 gamma too, which is not too granular, but great to have. It kinda feels like my ideal match is between 2.2 and 2.5, but 2.2 is fine.

The color gamma according to lagom.nl looked fine, but I had to open the picture in Paint, otherwise it was DPI-scaled in the browser, and that messed with the way it works!! (That website is an amazing resource for quick monitor checks.)

Colors are however somewhat inaccurate in this mode. It’s easy to see by comparing the tweaked User Mode vs. sRGB emulation. There are some rather sizeable hue shifts in certain cases. I believe part of this is caused by the saturation tweak not operating properly.

Here’s a photo of what the Photoshop color picker looks like when Saturation is set to 0 on the monitor, vs. what a proper grayscale conversion should be. It’s definitely not using the right coefficients. 

So in practice, when using the Racing & User modes, compared to the U2717D sRGB, here’s a few examples of what I see:

Reds are colder (towards the purple side) & oversaturated

Bright yellow (255,215,90) is undersaturated

Bright green (120,200,130) is undersaturated

Dark green (0,105,60) is fine

Magenta (220,13,128) is oversaturated

Dark reds & brown (150,20,20 to 90,15,10) is oversaturated

Cyan (0,180,240) is fine 

Pink (230,115,170) is fine

Some shades of bright saturated blue (58,48,220) have the biggest shifts.

The TF2 skin tone becomes slightly desaturated and a bit colder

It’s not inaccurate to the point of being distracting, and you always have the  sRGB mode (with flawed gamma?) to check things with, but it’s definitely not ideal, and some of these shifts go far enough that I wouldn’t recommend this monitor for color work that needs to be very accurate.

I’ve went back and forth, User vs sRGB, several times, on my most recent work (True Sight 2019 sequences). I’ve found the differences were acceptable for the most part; they bothered me the most during the Chronosphere sequence, in which the hazy sunset atmosphere turned a bit into to a rose gold tint, which wasn’t unpleasant at all — and looked quite pretty! — but it wasn’t what I did.

I’m coming from the point of view of a “prosumer” who cares about color accuracy, but who ultimately recognizes that this quest is impossible in the face of so many devices out there being inaccurate or misconfigured one way or the other. In the end, my position is more pragmatic, and I feel that you gotta be able to see how your stuff’s gonna look on the devices where it’ll actually be watched. So while I’ve done color grading on a decent-enough sRGB-calibrated monitor, I’ve always checked it against the inaccurate PG278Q, and I’ve done a little bit of compromising to keep my color work looking alright even once gamma shifted. And so, now, I’ll also be getting to see what my colors look like on a monitor that doesn’t quite restrain itself to sRGB gamut properly.

Well, at least, all of that stuff is out of the box, but...

TFTCentral (one of the most trustworthy monitor review websites, in my opinion) has found suspiciously similar shifts. But after calbration, their unit passed with flying colors (pun intended), so if you really care about this sort of stuff and happen to have a colorimeter... you should give it a try!

I hope one day we’ll be able to load and apply an ICC/ICM profile computer-wide, instead of only being able to load a simple gamma curve on the GPU with third-party tools like DisplayCAL. Even if it had to squeeze the gamut a bit...

Also, there are dynamic dimming / auto contrast ratio features which could potentially be useful in limited scenarios if you don’t care about color accuracy and want to maximize brightness. I believe they are forced on for HDR. But you will probably not care at all.

IPS glow is not very present on my unit; less than on my U2717D. However, when it starts to show up (more than a 30°-ish angle away), it shows up more. UPDATED: after some more time with the monitor, I wanna say that, in fact, IPS glow isit's slightly stronger, and shows up sooner (as in, from broader angles). It requires me to sit a greater distance from the monitor in order to not have it show up and impede dark scenes. It is worse than on my U2717D.

Backlight bleed, on the other hand, is there, and a little bit noticeable. On my unit, there’s a little bit of blue-ish bleed on the lower left corner, and some dark-grey-orange bleed for a good third of the upper-left. However, in practice, and to my eyes, it doesn’t bother me, even when I look for it. It ain’t perfect, but I’ve definitely seen worse, especially from ASUS. The photo above was taken at 100% brightness, and I’ve tried to make it just a tad brighter than what my eyes see, so hopefully it’s a decent sample.

Dead pixels: on my unit, I have 5 stuck dead green subpixels overall. There are 4 in a diamond pattern somewhat down and right to the center of the screen, and another one, a bit to the right of that spot. All of them kinda “shimmer” a little bit, in the sense that they become stronger or weaker based on my angle of view. They’re a bummer but I haven’t found them to be a hindrance. Took me a few days to even notice them for the first time, after all.

HDR is just about meaningless and uses some global dimming techniques, as well as stuff that feels like... you know that Intel HD driver feature that brightens the content on the screen, while lowering the panel backlight power in tandem, to save power, but it kinda flattens (and sometimes clips) highlights? It kinda looks like that sometimes. Without local dimming, HDR is just about meaningless.

Unfortunately, the really nice HDR support in computer monitors is still looking like it’s going to be at the very least a year out, and even longer for sub-1000 price ranges. (I was holding out for the PG27UQX at first, but it still has no word on availability, a whole year after being announced, and will probably cost over two grand, so no thanks.)

G-Sync (variable refresh rate) support is... not there yet?! The latest driver does not recognize the monitor as being compatible with the feature. And it turns out that the product page says that G-Sync support is currently being applied for. Huh. I thought they had special chips in those monitors solely for the feature, but it’s possible this one does it another way? (The same way that Freesync monitors do it?)

DSC (Display Stream Compression) enables 4K 120Hz to work through a single DisplayPort cable, without chroma subsampling. And it’s working for me, which came as a surprise, as I was under the impression this feature required a 2000-series Turing GPUs. (I have a 1080 Ti.) I was wrong about this, it’s 144 Hz that requires DSC. And I don’t have it on this Pascal card. But I don’t really care since I prefer to run this monitor at 120 Hz, as it’s a multiple of the 60 Hz monitor next to it.

Windows DPI scaling support is okay now. Apps that are DPI-aware, and the vast majority of them are now, scale back and forth between 150% and 100% really well as they get dragged between the monitors! The only program I’ve had issues with is good old Winamp, which acted as if it was 100% on the XG27UQ... and shrinked down on another monitor. So I asked it to override DPI scaling behaviour (”scaling performed by: application”), which keeps the player skin at 100% on every monitor, but any call to system fonts and UI (Bento skin’s playlist + Settings panel) are still at 150%. So I had to set the playlist font size to 7 for it to look OK on the non-scaled monitor!

A few apps misbehave in interesting ways; TeamSpeak, for example, seen above, scales everything back from 150% to 100%, and there is no blurriness, but the “larger layout” (spacing, etc.) sticks.

Games look great with 4K in 27 inches. Well, I’ve only really tried Dota 2 so far, but man does it get sharp, especially with the game’s FXAA disabled. It was already a toss-up at 1440p, but at 4K I would argue you might as well keep it disabled. However, going from 2560x1440 to 3840x2160 requires some serious horsepower. It may look like a +50% upgrade in pixels, but it’s actually a +125% increase! (3.68 to 8.29 million pixels.) For a 1080 Ti, maxed-out Dota 2 at 1440p 120hz is really trivial, but once you go to 4K, not anymore...  you could always lower resolution scale though! (Not an elegant solution if you like to use sharpening filters though, looking at you RDR2.)

Overall, the XG27UQ is a good monitor, and I’m satisfied with my purchase, although slightly disappointed by the strong IPS glow and the few dead subpixels. 7/10