#{ my talent is quite boring wouldn't you say } . ask reply

[fuckknowledgeandideas]

BTW i have been listening to the everything everything song u replied to my ask w AND ITS SOOOOOOOOO FAUCKING GOOOOOOOD

HELL YES I'M SO GLAD.... Everything Everything my favorite band of the world....

ALSO I'll derail this ask (sorry! you fell into my music trap) to make recommendations on how to get into their stuff since they have quite a few albums now ^-^ I'll go in order of most accessible album to least :

Get To Heaven : Their best album and probably their most well known one.. I started with this one so of course I am biased BUT. it is the most consistent one in terms of song quality in my opinion. It has a lot of very abrasive sounds, prominent bass (for the bassheads in the crowd <3), same with the drums, the singer makes a lot of funny sounds like eehee and ahaaa! and ooh!!, it's a good time. Notable songs (by that I mean my favorites) : (Well the thing is. The entirety is good. Just don't listen to No Reptiles it's stupid. HOWEVER,) Regret, Spring/Sun/Winter/Dread, Blast Doors, Hapsburg Lippp and Only As Good As My God are my big preferences in there. If you like quieter song listen to the others in priority I'd say. OH OH AND WHEEL. You should check The Wheel, see if it's turning now etc BONUS : BANGING CONCERT with BANGING RECORDING HERE https://youtu.be/qYAFCVlLWIk as a wise man once said : "I hope they got some nasty fucking sloppy after this sessio,n"

Man Alive : Baby's very first album!! This one I would say is quite depressing but quite catchy as well.. Half of the songs in there are a bit too empty to my personal taste BUUUUT the other half has a talent to make me writhe and cry on the flour. Augh. The sounds are lighter in this one but our good friend mister Johnathan Every love to yell so much it compensates largely. Notable songs : MY KZ UR BF, Qwerty Finger, Schoolin', Photoshop Handsome, Suffragette Suffragette, Come Alive Diana, and from the deluxe version I would say the most important ones to check out are DNA Dump and Wizard Talk BONUS : They collaborated with an ensemble for a concert check it out definitely they're so small in it and they are having so much fun and and there is a brass section it is so charming https://youtu.be/oCH_YGD7oDc AND you should check the demo of MY KZ UR BF. It makes me SAD! https://youtu.be/VaoHgQts5ek The roughness of it only conveys the message of it better and they have chimes in it. It's GOOD.

Raw Data Feel : Most recent released album, and it's about how we love phone more than god. Kind of. I'd describe this one as having a very dreamlike quality. It talks about apocalypse and robots and computers and how they are "terrifying and a bit sexy". They really said that. I wouldn't say it sounds more electronic than the others but it has a "blurred" artificial layer to it that makes it very unique. OH AND they did something cool with ai stuff before everyone else so props to them for that. Notable songs : Bad Friday, Pizza Boy, Metroland Is Burning, Leviathan and HEX. MY GOD LISTEN TO HEX. IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD.

Arc : A mixed bag of mehh songs and really REALLY STRONG ONES. Maybe the most sadness inducing album of theirs. It REEKS of despair. Badly. I'm saying that as a good thing. Album that feels like the dusty attic of deceased loved ones on a cold spring morning.. Notable songs : Cough Cough, Torso Of The Week, Choice Mountain, Undrowned, Radiant LISTEN TO RADIANT GOD. If you like those check Kemosabe, No Plan and Justice too. I like these very much.

A Fever Dream : ARGUABLY THEIR WORSE ALBUM. It's very quiet and empty except for a few tunes. I do think it has a very particular atmosphere that I personally ended up warming up to. Don't look up the meanings for the lyrics it's all kind of boring I think you should think about characters instead. Notable songs : Night Of The Long Knives, Desire, Good Shot Good Soldier, Run The Numbers. <- The most impactful songs to me. White Whale makes me very sad if I think about it too. Wahh

RE-ANIMATOR : It's fine. I don't have very strong opinions on this one. It has some really good songs in it. I think the thing with this one is the lyrics are a lot simpler than the others and I like the weirdness better. But it still is worth checking out those guys know how to make music. Notable songs : Big Climb, Planets, Black Hyena, Violent Sun. BONUS : They released SUPERNORMAL as a single around the time of that album and it's better than a good portions of the songs in it so check it out lol. The other single released for this album is the worst song they ever made don't worry about it.

BONUS OF BONUS : There's a playlist of a bunch of unreleased/demos/B-sides on youube if you are really motivated to check many things, some of them were in the Man Alive deluxe version though. https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLYCuy2Tpolc8GY7GQYX5_uYdgYpftKQ7V

Uhh I might have forgotten things but. If you don't know them that's a starting point that you can bounce off of. Have fun with tunes yayy <3

[ambiguouspuzuma]

The Mimic

"I started out as a ghost writer," Loretta began. "Well, I was a baby, first of all - something smaller, even earlier, you might argue. A zygote? But, yes, professionally speaking, ghost writing was my first real job. That's what you're after, right?"

"Yes - by all means, let's speak professionally." Rosalba said coldly, her pen still poised and ready to begin, her notepad not yet troubled by its nib. "But that doesn't answer the question."

"Last night, I know, I know," her subject replied; clearly used to being paid by the word. "I'm just giving some background - a bit of flavour, you know? I'm sure in medias res is all the rage when it comes to writing an engaging article, but I'm a novelist in speech as much as type, and there's nothing wrong with a bit of chronology. I'd always want to start at the start, with the origin story, rather than saving it for a prequel that might never come. Now, if you wouldn't mind humouring me for just a minute-"

"Sorry," Rosalba interrupted, without a hint of apology on her lips, "but what exactly do you think this is?"

"You said you wanted an interview?"

"Yes, in connection with the death of Mr Angus McIntyre."

"Oh, yes, such a a tragedy, I adored The Death List." Realising the shift in tone, Loretta paused, confused as to her interviewer's aim. "So wait, was all of that not true? Why else would you be here?"

"I'm here to interview you with the police." Detective Rosalba Gutiérrez paused, already exhausted. "Are you saying you thought that would make a magazine want to profile you? About someone else's death?"

"Well, sorry if that comes across as narcissistic," Loretta said. "I don't get much publicity, you see. I'm used to working in the shadows."

Rosalba nodded. Many murderers were.

"It's just likely that the sequels will come to me. Everything else does, right? It's a famous series, unfinished, and obviously the publishers would like to keep it going. I've worked with them before. There's no deal in place yet, of course, but I wouldn't be surprised if someone asked me about it."

That was the rest of her backstory. Loretta had started out as a ghost-writer, knocking out autobiographies for a handful of minor celebrities, where 'auto' meant they sometimes briefed her in the car. She'd learnt to write a simile in another woman's shoes, talk in her voice, consider how her upbringing might impact her use of this word or that. She knew the weight of birthplace, class and education, Oxford commas and Newcastle full stops.

She'd been very good at it. After the first few attempts, Loretta had made quite a name for herself within the industry, even if she always used another nom de plume. It transpired that she had a spectacular gift for mimicry. Most budding writers worked until they found their own style, but Loretta had soon discovered that she none: instead, she bore an uncanny ability to imitate others. She was an impressionist, a mould, a mirror. A lexical chameleon.

But when imitating living writers, for all her talent as vernacular ventriloquist, Loretta's role was limited. Her skills served only to write on their behalf; or, when they turned her down, she won her revenge in producing knock-off versions in their style, or cutting parodies which captured them in their entirety. But even that felt like a poor part to play, when she could just wait to take over the whole thing.

It had been a publisher's idea. She had been ghost-writing a series for a TV actor turned 'author', who had turned their hand to writing for one-and-a-half novels before growing bored and moving on, when they'd suddenly passed away in a freak golfing accident. They'd suggested she finish the manuscript she'd been working on at the time, to be published posthumously, and she'd tried to wrap up the series as best she could.

But it had done incredibly well, and had fans weeping in the knowledge there were no sequels to come, no resolution of this arc or that, the death of a series inspiring as many mourners as the passing of the man whose name was on the cover. The publishing house had taken one look at such an untapped well of raw demand, and decided it would be a shame to close up shop just yet: they'd suggested she 'take over' the books as an up-and-coming author, as others had done for bestselling series before.

The rest was history. Those who'd worked with Loretta on other projects knew her way with other people's words, and she started to be hired to finish series she'd never worked on before, with the ability to write them in exactly the style of the original. She was the one they turned to when an author died, to keep the ink and the revenue flowing. To take up their pen, and sometimes their mantle, at the appropriate juncture, after a suitable pause to grieve - and sometimes not even that.

In literature, as in film, it was seen that the show must always go on - the studios weren't above recasting the lead with a lookalike to finish the job, and now publishing houses could do the same. Loretta was still a ghost writer, in a way, but now in the sense that the author whose characters she wore, whose flourishes she took up as her own, were the ghosts; and she the living vessel, channelling their spirit, her typewriter guided as fingers tracing on a Ouija board.

She became them like never before; Loretta trained herself to be a method actor, to read only her subject's words, to write only her facsimiles. She learnt all that she could about their lives, their influences - her works had to capture some part of their departed essence, every line a eulogy, a final testament. It was more pressured, this way. Not only were they not around to proof-read the result, to correct any mis-steps, but she bore the weight of their souls on her conscience. She had to do them justice.

Sometimes the families helped her with fidelity, able to share that precious background, other correspondence, and read through her first draft. Sometimes, to Loretta's surprise, she found herself able to help them in return: they read her books and heard their loved one's voice beyond the grave, a sense of humour they'd forgotten, all of those little remarks and idiosyncrasies that brought them for a moment back to life.

A grief-stricken few had asked for more - farewell letters in a husband's hand, a father's missed wedding speech - but Loretta always turned them down. It was one thing keeping the deceased's memory alive, but another to try to replace them, to put words into their mouths beyond the realm of fiction. She could supplant the things they wrote that weren't real, to entwine her lies into theirs, but she would never seek to overwrite their truth.

Her adopted series were widely successful - sometimes more so than the author had been in life - but the fame and fortune increased Loretta's sense of guilt. If she sold more copies than others, she knew, it was only because she scavenged from the shoulder bones of giants. She sometimes felt a sort of graveyard ghoul, leeching the remaining warmth from one host before she moved onto the next. But this was all that she could do. This was what she was best at.

"Exactly," Rosalba said. It wasn't often that a suspect freely admitted their own motive. "That's why I'm here. It strikes me that you had the most to gain from Mr McInytre's death."

"Wait, what? You think he was killed?"

"His car was found at the bottom of a lake near to his home, with his body suspended inside of it. Drowned. The coroner has not yet ruled out suicide, or death by misadventure, but we are treating it as suspicious, yes. Enquiries are ongoing."

"And you came straight to me?"

"Almost," Rosalba said. "We spoke to his publishers first - they were upset at losing their golden goose, and seemingly had no motive to wish Mr McIntyre dead. We asked them for a list of potential alternatives, and your name came up. On top of the list, as it happens. Shall I ask the question again?"

"Sorry," Loretta said, feeling her way into the detective's exhausted, matter-of-fact tone, as if trying a new jacket on for size. "But I'm going to need a little more information. You've only spoken to the publishers, who you think have the all clear, before me? Other than the coroner, and your colleagues, is there anybody else who is aware of Mr McIntyre's death?"

"Well, the killer, presumably." Rosalba shifted in her seat, clearly discomfited by the shift in her suspect's tone, like the distorted echo from the bottom of a well. People didn't tend to like to hear their own reflection. "Unless you're including them in that group of people, in which case I'm interested to know where."

"Are you sure about that?" Loretta continued. "I mean, think about it. A car pushed into a lake. If one of your other suspects did that, could they really know for sure that he had drowned? A miraculous escape is possible, right? Even if they stayed to make sure, he could have held his breath, found a pocket of air, until the rescue arrived. Unlikely, sure, but possible."

"What exactly are you arguing here? That it couldn't be you, because you'd have murdered him more thoroughly?"

"No, it wasn't me. But if you've got your list of suspects, I'd be happy to help you bait out the real killer, if you can keep the death quiet for a few hours more. Just pass me a copy of one of his books, and I'll find a pen and paper."

"Wait - you're going to pretend to be him, and write to each of them, to say what? I know it was you? You won't get away with this?" Rosalba was long since out of her depth. This interview had slipped away from her from the moment she'd stepped foot inside this house. "And hope that they'll believe it's really him?"

"That's right," Loretta said, already searching for her pen. "Haven't you ever resurrected anyone before?"

[seeraphiic-blog]

[text] I accidentally sexted your mum, I’m sorry xox.

super text list! > @tafunaai > accepting !

[ to: miruma ] : jokes on you but

[ to: miruma ] : i don’t have one

[ to: miruma ] : haha

[boop-le-snoot]

marmalade taffy

Helmut Zemo smut & feels. Soft!Dom Zemo, non-superhero!AU, Zemo being the weird uncle of college!Maximoff twins. This was written on a whim so if someone signs up to beta-read, I will shower you with affection and reminders to drink water. The Reader is addressed as "you" and is not described - race/age/body type neutral. The language I used for Sokovian is actually Serbian. Word count 2,8k.

Fun fact: I have mild synesthesia. Emotions/feelings and some people have an assigned color (and sometimes smell) for me. That's how the name of the fic was born. This fic feels like the colors of marmalade and taffy, look them up. This fic is dedicated to my lovely @slothspaghettiwrites , the shining beacon in my misty, rocky beach. (You're a periwinkle for me, by the way. I thought you might ask.)

When you first see him all you do is raise an eyebrow. His sleek, well-maintained vintage car stands out almost grotesquely amongst the various sedans and mom vans on the campus and you can see the glint of his wristwatch even from afar. Wanda's and Pietro's sheepish smirk only makes the situation worse - the girl's attire obviously screams "liberal arts" and her twin brother doesn't seem to have anything better to wear than tracksuits.

The man behind the wheel is unfazed. He is calm and collected in that European way, not conceited, just waiting. For what? You don't know. His eyes trail over you but he doesn't smile, simply gives a tiny polite nod. If you hadn't had extensive conversations about cultural differences with Wanda, you'd say he was extremely rude.

Shy, quiet Wanda, who's eyes lit up seeing her favorite not-actually-uncle. In a surprising dash of energetic agility, she hopped right into the car, her numerous scarves a bright flash of saturation against the campus grayscale. You giggle and wave at the departing car, snorting when Wanda's hand reaches over to briefly honk the horn, causing the driver to swerve the tiniest bit, his eyes trained on you in the rearview mirror.

He comes and goes often. Almost always in a different perfectly restored vintage car, mostly with the same polite mask of bored contentment. You know he's royalty in his home country and can't help but wonder how frivolously the twins act around him - no, free. He gives all the appearance of a silent, strict man.

You're proven wrong rather quickly. Freshman year left behind you, you and Wanda decide to ditch the dorms for an apartment - she finds one rather quickly and it's just you two in it even though it is ridiculously huge and the rent amount she requests is equally ridiculously small. Not the one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you pretend nothing is out of the ordinary and buy yourself a new pair of shoes.

Helmut - Wanda finally formally had introduced you two - doesn't come by often, however the visits are always... Eventful. He's not at all what it seemed to be; in the quiet of your apartment, a witty, incredibly clever man resurfaces from under the stoic façade. The Slav in him easily lets him consume alarming quantities of alcohol together with Pietro, who opted to stay in the dorms with his idiotic football team, and - you couldn't believe your eyes at the time - dorkily dad-dance squat in the middle of your living room, unfazed by your and Wanda's cackling.

The way Helmut is absolutely unbothered by the audience and the laughter, pale face flushed from the wine and a little smirk stretching his thin lips into expression almost catlike. The maroon turtleneck stretches nicely across his chest, as thinly as your lip that you worry between your teeth.

Pietro raises an eyebrow. You shrug.

"Got something in your eye, no?" He teases playfully and you shrug again, taking another swig of your nice, European beer.

There are more gatherings, more parties and quite a few rides in his car, when the wind blows your hair in all directions possible and intermingles it with Wanda's as you giggle and squeal in the back seat. Helmut always indulges you two; the word 'no' simply does not exist in that man's vocabulary. He insists politely but firmly on a dinner with all three of them on your birthday and the gifts he brings make your eyes pop out and your face heat.

"A woman like you makes any sensible man want to shower you with the finest gifts," Helmut's voice is quiet and his accent is thick and somehow, it makes it all that harder to refuse. He smiles like usual - tiny and a little secretive, as he pecks your cheek, filling the air around you with the smell of his cologne. It makes your mouth water and your fingers clench helplessly around the half a dozen of silk paper-wrapped boxes.

The summer rolls in and it's hot and humid and finally you don't have to worry about waking up at the crack of dawn or classes or the annoying boys who can barely take a no for an answer. The invitation to Helmut's villa doesn't come as a surprise; Wanda had been riled up over it since early May and Pietro and his whole damn football team were equally as thrilled.

You pack flowy dresses, daisy dukes and swimsuits. The expensive jewelry and handbag Helmut had gifted you, too, since the villa is surrounded by a whole neighborhood meant solely for the rich and famous. Wanda is absolutely unbothered by her own bohemian chic and you quietly envy her; the longer you get to know her, the more you realise of how much actually she does not give a fuck about anything besides her paintings and sculptures.

It's admirable, really, because she is talented. And Helmut knows it, too, having had collected and kept every single work Wanda had made, showing it off in the various rooms of his two-story mansion. The abstract fits in well and is a great conversation topic for him and his equally important friends. There's an endless stream of them in the first days and Wanda isn't overtly happy, choosing to run away to laze around the pool with you more often than not.

Helmut's friends stop at the glass wall between the inner side of the house and the pool to stare at you two, too, causing something dark and tense flash across his features. There always had been a sort of tangy obscurity in him, you've noticed, but not nearly enough for you to grow concerned. It added the bittersweetness, the flavour and consistency to the modest man.

Although calling him modest might have been a mistake. The moment you can't shake off one of his friends after a polite chit-chat seems to never end, Wanda nowhere in sight, dread and unease digging their sharp, spindly fingers in the soft flesh behind your rib cage, Helmut is suddenly there, arm wrapped almost possessively around your waist.

"Draga mea, Wanda is looking for you. She says it's urgent," He stares the man down with the eyes of a vulture. "I believe we haven't been properly introduced," Helmut seems to not realize he's still clutching you in a grasp of steel as the man opposite you rumbles out his name, few syllables you'd forgotten seconds after he spoke them for the first time.

"Baron Helmut Zemo," the fingers brush and squeeze once, gently, over the valley of your waist before letting go. You miss the rest of their peacocking, walking away with a fight and fire inside of your hammering heart. Anxiety and longing and confusion mix and blend, combining into a cocktail that has you beelining for the bar like a woman parched.

The next day you're sleeping off the hangover, first in your bed and then by the pool - Wanda had run off into town for one thing or another, and knowing her, she'd be back home at the crack of dawn. It was blissful peace, the soothing balm for your troubled heart and your aching head.

"Hungover?" Helmut's voice was quiet and a little bit teasing. None of the Eastern Europeans had ever showed the signs of having any ill effects from the alcohol they drunk, unlike you.

You stretched, too blissed out to care about the skimpy strings and straps of your bikini, basking in the gentle morning sun. "Mmm, not anymore," a swim in the cold pool had done wonders.

Your soft pink float rocked as Helmut's footsteps quieted, giving way to a short splash and the sound of his breathing somewhere in your space. Just as you cracked open your eyes, he reached out a hand to steady himself next to you. "I wanted to apologize for the situation yesterday. That man was stepping out of line. He is not welcome in my home anymore."

You stare at him and then you snort. The blunt was he usually speaks is so easy, it flows oh so effortlessly. No mind games, just honesty. You want to pay him back in kind. "Don't worry, Helmut. I just had a bit too much to drink," that was the truth. Any other time and you wouldn't have hesitated to unapologetically steer clear of any creep. Heat and bubbly don't mix and that was your own mistake.

"No, printsesa," the man in front of you let loose some of the delicious darkness, eyes growing stormy, hand gently resting over yours. "Some men are fools, they are nothing but animals. You deserve to feel safe, especially in my home." His lips stretched into a smile, water dripping down his jaw and making tiny circles form in the azure of the pool.

"I can't argue with that," you replied, catching the stray liquid and following the trails it made with your eyes. His forehead, dripping down over his eyes, making Helmut blink the stray drops away until they landed on his lips, trickling down his chin.

You swallowed, opting to dip your toes into the cool pool water before you could make a fool of yourself. The water splashed towards him, making a mischievous grin grace his usually serious face, as me made a half-hearted attempt to splash back weakly, making the water sizzle on your sun-kissed skin. Never the one to back down from a challenge, you knitted your eyebrows in mock offense, eagerly letting the water wash over you as you abandoned the float in favour of creating waves with your whole body.

The temperature contrast was delicious and Helmut's laugh even more so as it echoed in between the high walls of the building surrounding the pool. The sun was nearly at its peak, shining over your head in a beacon of heat that almost matched the one inside of you, the one that had blossomed there months ago and finally grew into a steady smolder, shooting sparks whenever you were around the baron.

It was hot and wet, the same feeling chasing you two when you finally kissed. His hand firmly planted on the side of your neck, his nose softly brushing against the underside of your jaw, Helmut was in no rush to taste you, to savour every millimeter of your sun-kissed skin. The man left you with your fingertips trembling and heart scrambling for purchase somewhere in the deepest pits of your belly.

"What are you so hungry for, mmm?" Helmut's voice rumbled next to the shell of your ear; you could barely focus, skin singing underwater, where he held onto you like a lifeline. "You have hungry eyes, ljubavi, tell me what it is and I'll give it to you," your bodies pressed flush against each other, his eyelashes flittering against your cheek.

"You," the maximum capacity for your brain was one-syllable words and you used it sparingly, failing to suppress a gasp when Helmut's mouth latched around a particularly sensitive spot right under your jawline.

Teeth scraped over it before he soothed the sting with his tongue. "All the things in the world, I could give them to you. And yet..." He sounded almost disappointed. Perplexed, just as you were at the strange admission. "A woman like you would have men fighting for your attention yet you give it to me so freely," he murmured softly, capturing your lips in a slow, fluid kiss once more. "I will make sure you have everything you could ever want."

Helmut's touch grew bolder as he steered the two of you towards the shallow end of the pool. The taste of him was intoxicating, like the sweetest, most alluring poison you'd ever tasted: you knew that once you had one small bit, you'd be addicted, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. His words were clever and his mouth even more, making the short stumble upstairs last hours.

A wall, baroque tapestry, marked with the wetness of the pool water, where you allowed yourself to be pressed against as he leaned into you with the entirety of his broad frame, domineering the kiss effortlessly.

You panted as your back hit the soft, million-thread count, unmade sheets of the baron's bed, staring up into his eyes and finding your own reflection in his pupils, blown wide with lust. The tiny smirk was back but now his unexpressive face was marred by a gleem, accentuating his moist, puffy lips you'd licked into and bitten in a heated frenzy.

"Beautiful, printsesa," he stated with quiet firmness, leaning over into you to unclasp and toss away the upper part of the bikini. The bottoms followed suit, flung carelessly somewhere. His hands ran over your as it sang, every tiniest nerve hypersensitive, coming alive with a fervor borne of months of longing, complimented by the summer heat and cool waters.

"Helmut," your voice wavered, flowed on the syllables as his clever, clever mouth trailed hot down your chest, briefly submerging each nipple into the sear of it. Goosebumps rose over your exposed body, highlighting a trail for him, a trail he followed eagerly. Kisses were candy sweet and marshmallow soft.

Hot breath at the apex of your thighs had you mewling and arching into it, having abandoned all shame, and Helmut found it amusing. The petite chuckle made an appearance, his fingertips ghosting over the part of your lower lips; he was as amused by your impatience as he was enthralled by the youthfulness of the gesture. "Shh, ljubavi, I will make it feel better," his accent as thick as clover honey and just as saccharine.

The first movements were tentative, brief and so light, the demanding moan slipped out of your mouth along with a growl of frustration. You felt continuous chuckling, slight stubble rasping along the sides your thighs; you felt him pick up pace and steady his hot hands on your hips as you attempted to trash against the overwhelming stimulation your pussy was receiving.

His moans, loud and wet, drove you closer to the edge like a drunk drove a Ferrari; Helmut's skill was unparalleled but it lacked precision as he lost himself in the moment just as much as you.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm- I'm so close," you managed to grunt out before the crescendo hit, eyes rolling back into your skull as the influx of more, more, more hit every nerve ending in your body. You could do little more than rest your legs on his shoulders as the noble man, the quiet storm lapped up every drop of your release.

He made the inside of you weak.

In seconds, Helmut was back on top of you, grinding his arousal into you desperately, almost begging for it and all you could do was let your body respond, mimic your lover, clench around nothing just as you felt him twitch.

"Tell me you're mine," he demanded hooking one of your legs over his hip, eyes boring into yours with everything in them plain on display. It was a terrifying thing: as if your heart had suddenly grown legs, stood up and walked out into the bare, wide world, open for all to see. "Ti moa, skaži eto," his native tongue made his voice even more hoarse, you couldn't resist anymore.

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours," you chanted the words like a prayer, hoping he'd be merciful - and he is. No, there's only a hidden tenderness in his hands as he drives into your with increasing force that shakes you and makes your core quiver, igniting your flesh once again like the color red; it's messy and it's sloppy and you're barely aware of Helmut muttering something into the crook of your neck as you feel yourself clench down on him with a choked moan.

"Fuck," hearing him, the polite composed man, bite the end of his own orgasm into a curse made a wave of magenta hot rush travel through your body at lightning speed, his cock pulsating and coating you, claiming you from inside out so sweetly you couldn't resist a shallow gasp into his cheek, a gasp he mirrored as his own oversensitive flesh was once more assaulted by your combined lust.

The tide of his breathing was high; both of you spent yet still drunk on the newfound sense of togetherness. It was clear as a summer's day that in your arms laid a man who'd once lost something important and you - you were a someone who's never had anything of significance and perhaps, this time each other's arms would let you both keep whatever it was that you missed.

[animatedrapture]

"𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖒𝖊 𝖘𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖞" — suna rintarou ;

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: suna rintarō is so much more than his bored eyes, the blunt between his lips, and his tendency to slack off—luckily, you're one of the very few people who know this; especially after he comes home to you sullen after finding out he didn't make it to the olympic players.

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: female reader. fluff—established relationship. angst if you squint. comfort. mention of drug use. like, one swear word.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 2k

𝖛𝖎𝖔𝖑𝖊𝖙'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: in lieu of the influx of toxic stoner!suna content, i offer you a piece of appreciation towards him and all that he is. i was meaning to post this in my new blog but i thought there's so much of you here who would appreciate and need this more. written on a whim at 1AM and didn't proofread so for any errors, gomen. repost because tumblr tagging hates me. cross posted on ao3 under the same username. original post here. this was written before we got information that he actually made it to the olympic team. furudate really told me to stfu, huh?

It's you who find out first that there is truly so much more to Suna Rintarō than his expressionless exterior, sleepy eyes, and bored gaze towards even the most ridiculous situations. It's when his self assured stance dwindled as he walked towards you once upon a time, introducing himself first before asking you for your number.

"My number?" You echoed his request, trying your best not to gawk at his attractive features and six foot two stature towering over you so easily; making you feel oh so small. (Which is funny, given that you were already standing straight on your heels.)

"If you don't mind, 's cool if you say no," he replies, tearing his gaze from you as if he was actually anxious you'd say no.

It's funny, really. It's not every day a famous pro-athlete known for both his good looks and skills walk up to you, asking for your number and actually considering you'd say no to him and his pretty features—in fact, nevermind that he was pretty, it was more the fact that he wasn't so full of himself to actually think you wouldn't say no.

That's what makes you nod your head; your heart already beating right out of your chest as he gives you a lazy grin and his phone to press your number in. When you're done, you hand it back to him and you mentally pat yourself at the back for not visibly trembling.

"Y/N?" He reads your name from the contact information, and good God, did your name sound so beautiful coming out of his mouth. He doesn't wait for your reply anymore, looking back at you from his phone, the lazy smile still across his lips as if he knew it was a heart killer.

"Thanks, I'll text you later," is the last thing he said before he walked away from you.

It didn't take long for you to fall in love with someone like Suna Rintarō—underneath his detached personality also lied someone who was truly passionate with the things he set his mind to, gave his time to. Like you or volleyball or the video game he's been waiting to release for a whole month—it only had to be something or someone who was special enough, then, he would give it his all.

The smoke that filled his lungs occasionally did nothing to lessen your own intoxication of Suna Rintarō and his passions—because every exhale, his dark green eyes would meet yours and oh so easily, he offers you that same lazy smile yet one that was dripping with affection.

"Should you even be smoking that, Rintarō?" You had questioned him before, about the second time you've seen him put the rolled blunt in between his soft lips, inhaling it.

"It's a once in a while kinda thing, you don't actually think I'd sacrifice my career for this don'tcha?" He grins at you, amusement flooding his usually bored eyes — now glazed over with the effects of the weed—from the way he gazes at you with an eyebrow raised.

It's when you realize that Suna Rintarō was independent and knew what he was doing—did what he did with full awareness, full control, full flexibility. It's as if who he was in court was who he was in person as well.

"You're really interesting, y'know that Rin?" You had mumbled against his chest once before, it was at the first few months of dating—he had one of his arms around you with you cuddled on his side, watching a movie from his couch.

"Yeah?"

"I mean—you've always been so good at what you do, huh? But you still work for it."

"What makes you say that?" You can feel him looking down on face against his chest.

"C'mon, don't be silly. You were scouted at middle school and you only got better as you grew up!" You say, finally moving your head to meet his gaze.

But all you get is a flick on your forehead and his low chuckle, "'s not that deep, y/n," he answers.

But you already knew better.

Suna isn't one for words, and no matter how much you insist that he was beyond the description of words, he only rolls his narrowed eyes at you. You find out Suna Rintarō, your boyfriend, was a huge inspiration during your sixth month together when you finally met his little sister.

It's hard to say it wasn't amusing how snarky she was, just as he was to his friends whom you've met a few times before—Atsumu and Osamu Miya, you remember. She's quick with her tongue, easily retorting back to her brother's comments.

"Are you sure you didn't just pay Y/N-san to be your girlfriend, nii-san?"

"Nah, you still jealous I came out prettier than you?" Suna bites back, a teasing grin plastered across his face. His sister only scoffs, looking back at you.

"You can tell me if he blackmailed you to come here!" She attempts to whisper. You're not sure whether you should be worried or continue to laugh, but you do neither as you choke on the drink you were sipping on right as she told you this.

"Shit, Y/N," Suna curses as you cough, your throat burning at the drink's intrusion, but Suna's quick to rub soothingly against your back as he offers you his water, his eyes glazed over in panic.

"You okay?" He asks when you stopped coughing, and you nod in response—throat remaining slightly sore. Suna lets out an aggravated groan, "Be careful next time," he manages to scold you, but oddly enough, his words remain saccharine.

There's something about the way that his little sister doesn't seem the least bit surprised with his reaction that somehow lets you know that perhaps, Suna Rintarō might just be quite the caring brother behind closed doors.

After that, it was when Suna excused himself to take a call from his manager, leaving you with his sister.

"Hey, nee-san, promise you'll take care of Rin-nii? You won't break his heart, will you?" His sister asks, eyes gleaming with something akin to hope, expectation, wonder. It easily takes you by surprise.

"Don't you worry, I'll promise I'll take care of him, promise I won't break his heart," your voice easily softens, nodding. His little sister's gaze remains on you, as if she's assessing you and as if she would easily tell whether or not you meant the words that came out of your mouth.

It makes you hold a breath until she nods slowly, smiling at you lightly just as Suna comes walking back, eyebrows raised, knowing he must've missed something.

"Whatcha girls talkin' bout?" He asked as he slipped back on his seat beside you.

"None of your business, obviously," his sister quickly answers.

They're truly quite similar, it's enough to make you smile and get through meeting his little sister until both of you dropped her off back to the train station.

"What'd she tell you?" Suna nudged you after seeing her train leave.

"Nothing, Rin," you answered with a wide smile, leaning up to place a chaste kiss against his lips—yet just as you pull away, one of his hands has found its way behind your neck, pulling you back to him.

You never thought a kiss could feel so loving before—but it really seemed as if Suna Rintarō had a knack for proving you wrong, over and over again.

It was the day that the Olympic team was announced when you see so much more of Suna Rintarō. Quick like the blink of an eye, or lightning that leaves the thunder chasing it; Suna felt the exhaustion, the pressure, the burnt-out feeling that's been repressed in the back of his head. It comes to him, crashing down like boulders not just on his shoulders but weighing down every part of his body.

Did he lack somewhere? He wonders. Where did that lacking end and start? What could have he done? Was it training, where he spent most of his time now? Suna had end up seeing you less and less since the drafting of olympic players started and you've been nothing but patient.

What was he supposed to tell you? After all the time it has stolen away from you—that he didn't make it?

When he opened the door to your shared apartment, he doesn't look up at you with a relieved sigh as he usually would—he avoids you gaze entirely, he avoids your observing eyes from the couch you sat on, watching him slowly shrug his shoes off.

"I'm just gonn—" he started, about to make an excuse to avoid looking at you.

"Prepared your bath, Rin. C'mon," Suna hears you say but it doesn't sink in his head, watching you take his hand, leading him to the bathroom.

Suna remains silent as he looks down on the bath you prepared for him, warm and inviting.

"Meet me in the kitchen when you're done, okay?" He hears you say, followed by the echo of your footsteps walking away.

You easily understand that Suna Rintarō was more than his talents, his efforts, and every little thing about him when you feel his large arms wrapped around you, his broad chest pressed against your back and his face buried on the crook of your neck. His fresh scent right out of the shower engulfing you and invading your senses, flooding you with him.

"'m sorry, bunny," he mumbles.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Ri—"

"It's odd, thought I'd pull it off, thought it'd be nothin' if I didn't make it. Don't know why I'm so upset right now," he continues, cutting you off, "Been so patient for me too, bunny. Thought I'd be nice to make you proud, ya know?"

Your sigh comes out sharp from the heavy feeling from your chest, not knowing what to do to make him feel better—like he did with you, always knowing his way around your low moments.

You wriggle out of his arms, making him grumble until you fully face him. He looks back at you with a small frown, eyebrows furrowed, watching your expression.

"I'm always proud of you, Rin. Olympic player or not, you make me so proud," you speak softly, your hands cupping each side of his face.

"Don't even get why it matters to me this much, it's just—" it was your turn to cut him off, tipping your toes to press a lingering kiss against his lips. Suna smiles against your lips, carrying you to sit on the kitchen counter like he always did—knowing you always would have to tip on your toes to reach him.

Soon, the lingering kiss turns slow and passionate—lips softly grazing the other, and it feels more like pouring the heavy weight of love out of your chest and into the other. A kiss so loving, so reassuring, so passionate—the kind that easily takes your breath away and makes your mind go blank. When Suna pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. You smile at him because it's all you can do when your heart feels like it's going to leap out of your throat just to offer itself to him entirely—and Suna smiles back at you, pecking your lips before wrapping his arms around you again, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You run your fingers through his hair, hoping it would help soothe him, and then you say, "I promise that you'll make it next year, Rin. I'll be with you now, and I'll still be with you then."

It only makes him hold you tighter, closer to him, "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you, Rintarō. You deserve the world and all the stars in the galaxy."

"'s too bad there's nothin' more I need than you, then."

That's what Suna tells you—Suna, who was smoke in his lungs, dumb videos of the twins to blackmail them with, little mistakes, bored eyes, and lazy attitude. The same Suna who was slow kisses, passion, and genuine smiles reserved for you—the same Suna who gave his passions his all, the same Suna who held you securely in his arms every night, the same Suna his little sister admired. Most of all, the same Suna Rintarō you loved with every beat of your heart, every fibre of your being.

📞 violet is calling... all content featured belongs to ©️ animatedrapture. do not plagiarize, repost, or modify.

[skellebonez]

The prompt you wrote with baby MK was extremely cute, but it also gave me an idea that wouldn't leave my brain: Imagine that same situation, but with Mei and Macaque. This is an open prompt, you can do with this whatever you like!

MK isn’t the only one who gets to have this kind of curse/ailment anymore! And I can’t resist putting this in the Cursed AU specifically, simply because I love the idea of this Macaque being confronted face first with the fact he actually cares. Even if it happens 200 times.

"What in the absolute hell are we supposed to do now?" Macaque groaned out, looking around the both of them for any indication of an escape that didn't involve him leaving Mei behind. Which was looking slimmer and slimmer if he didn’t want her to be in more physical danger than she already was. So. Stranded it was.

"I can still help!" Mei insisted, crossing her arms and standing her ground with a wide smirk. "I'm not powerless you know!"

"Never said you were, Jade," Macaque acknowledged instantly, tensing for a half moment when he realized how much he had to be attached to say something like that so fast. He forced himself to relax once again, no point in adding more fuel to the fire of worry that laid between them. "This just makes things complicated."

Oh yeah... complicated, that was one way to put it, definitely. If Macaque was being generous. And ignoring the fact that Mei wasn’t even 4 feet tall... and 4 years old. Physically.

Macaque was supposed to be on official mystic monkey business alone. Or at least that’s what he told Mei and MK to hopefully keep them out of his fur, but apparently Mei had other ideas. Like sneaking onto the private boat he had paid for to be taken to this secluded island far out into the ocean undetected, much farther than Mount Huaguo was. How she managed to sneak past security he may never know, now would he know how she managed to stay hidden for their 7 hour journey, and he would never admit that he was genuinely impressed.

He genuinely had not known she joined him until after the boat left, leaving them both stranded for at least the next 24 hours.

Horray.

Things had actually been going pretty ok, for the most part, after she had made herself known. In actuality Macaque was here to hunt down a specific item of his he had left behind on the island years ago, nothing really world shattering just... important to him. He knew that it would be safe here when he left it, the island as uninhabited and out of the way for humans to come to as it was.

But he also knew many powerful demons occasionally used this island as a hiding ground for when they were injured or planning something, against the owner’s wishes. And unfortunately one such demon just happened to be there on the one day of the while year he planned on coming.

That demon was deader than anything else on this island at the moment. Macaque hadn’t tried to kill him, not really, but they had lobbed something at him that Mei jumped in front of and he reacted on instinct.

If the thing had hit him in the first place they would probably be just fine. A decade and a half off his life span was nothing, unless it was set to a specific age in which... well, he was already able to do most of what he could do as a child so they still probably would have been ok. And hopefully she would be, if his memory served this particular demon was talented only in making temporary cursed and potions... mostly.

He hoped.

“Are you certain using your powers won’t hurt you?” Macaque asked, staring down at the short girl before him.

“I don’t think so?” Mei said with a shrug. “I mean, I’ve kinda had them for as long as I remember so... probably not.”

“Let’s not take that chance,” Macaque said with a sigh, looking around the beach. There was nothing for him to use, no emergency radio or boat. The best they had found on their entire search was a dinky little shelter. “It looks like our best bet would be to hunker down in that building and wait until mid day tomorrow for the boat to return. Provided there aren’t any more demons around we should be fine...”

“I can build a fire!” Mei proclaimed, running off before Macaque could even hope to catch her.

Something pulled in his chest, a protective thrum that he hadn’t felt since... since his journey with MK, but was becoming increasingly common the more time he spent training Mei. And he hadn’t felt that for so long he had forgotten what it felt like when it happened then, so unfamiliar with the desire to protect his old home and monkey friends of Mount Huaguo.

He would never admit even to himself that that feeling was “caring”. At least not yet.

“Jade, get back here!” Macaque yelled, moving to rush off after her before she came barreling back herself with armfuls of sticks and pine cones.

“I got everything we need!” She laughed and threw everything down in front of the building, looking around. “Did you see any rocks?”

“I know how to build a fire,” Macaque said softly, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “We probably don’t even need one.”

“Aw, but this is like a camping trip now!” Mei said, flailing her arms in the direction of the sticks. “I’ve even got marshmallows in my backpack!”

“Why did you bring m-never mind,” Macaque groaned, rubbing his face and sighing deeply. “OK. We’ll build a fire.”

~

It had gone better than hoped, actually. Macaque was able to start the fire with ease and Mei had apparently thought ahead enough that she’s brought the ingredients to make something called s’mores. Macaque had never seen them before, either they were new or they were a foreign treat, but MK had mentioned them to him on their journey and he had to admit... they were nice.

He just wished the gooey marshmallow didn’t stick to his fur so bad.

“And then MK did something that made the clone glow gold and explode into a bazillion pieces of hair!” Mei said, sweeping her arms out as she finisher her story. “And that’s how MK created and saved me from Porty Clone.”

“Sound like MK’s clones had quite the variety to them,” Macaque said with a smile. He’d relaxed over the evening, the normal sounds of the island confirming to him that it was just the two of them now and that at the very least they were safe from attack for the moment. “No wonder he’s careful not to overuse them.”

“Yeah, but Porty was pretty fun until he went overboard,” Mei replied, words cutting off with a yawn and a shiver as the wind picked up. “What time is it?”

Macaque looked up, watching the moon and the stars. “Late enough that it would be best to get some rest. We don’t want to miss the boat after all.”

“Hey, you only paid them half so they better come looking for you if you don’t show up!” She laughed out, making her way into the building as Macaque dumped sand on the fire to douse it. Just in case, don’t need the island catching fire with the wind. “ So uh... what are you going to tell them about... me?”

“That I came here looking for you,” he said plainly, shutting the door behind them. The moonlight shone through the windows of the shelter, giving them just enough light to see the one sad little cot it housed, right next to the massive stock of canned food they had also raided for dinner. He pulled the blanket on the cot back, grimacing at the dust on the blanket but satisfied with the condition of everything under it. He went outside to shake it out and make it usable again. “They know I was looking for something and that’s all they need to know.”

“What were you looking for anyway, Hot Topic?” Mei asked after a moment, watching Macaque make the bed again. “And how do you... know about this place?”

“... it’s mine, actually,” he said quietly, looking around the sad shelter. Unfurnished, cold and empty, with only the island itself and non-perishable food for survival. “I haven’t been back in a long time and most know to stay away, but sometimes demons don’t care. I was looking for something... unimportant.”

“It must have been important if you came all this way to find it,” Mei said, yawning again and rubbing her eyes.

“Ok, that’s enough of that!” Macaque exclaimed, hoping his glamor was hiding the embarrassed flush of his ears at her accusation. “Time for sleep!”

Without giving her a second to protest Macaque grabbed her around the waist with his tail and deposited her under the now clean enough blanket before forcibly tucking her in.

“Hey!” She protested, scowling at him once her arms were free. “I can’t sleep yet!”

“Why not?” Macaque chanced, wondering if he was going to regret this.

“You never told me a story.”

“... huh?”

“At the camp fire!” Mei insisted, leaning over the bed to grab her backpack and hold it to herself like it was a stuffed animal (which wasn’t hard since it was... basically a hollow stuffed dragon anyway). “I told you a bunch of stories about me and MK and Piggy and Tangy and Sandy and you didn’t tell me anything about you and the Monkey King! So spill one, I’m not going to sleep until you do!”

Macaque wanted to say no, wanted to glare at Mei until she just went to sleep through sheer exhaustion, wanted to walk out of the building and just stand guard at the door instead... but he kept looking into her teeny tiny 4 year old glower and he couldn’t help but sigh in defeat.

“Fine...” He said after a moment, moving to sit at the head of the bed. He watched as Mei smiled widely, making herself comfortable. “Let’s see... where should we begin... How about the time Wukong thought it would be a good idea to challenge the whole island to 1 on 1 combat for the title of king because he was bored, long before his proper training?”

“That sounds like him,” Mei said, smiling into her backpack with another yawn as she closed her eyes. “Yeah... tell that one.”

“OK, so this was only a little while after he jumped through the waterfall...”

And Macaque went on and on, giving much more detail than necessary, watching as Mei slowly relaxed until she eventually nodded off before the story even got close to the ending.

Which was... probably good for Macaque, to be honest.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the item he had come here to find. It was simple, all things considered. A little carved crown, made from wood and preserved carefully through the years, far too small for his head and more of a bracelet. Wukong had made it for him when their own duel, the final one of the whole island, ended in a draw all those centuries ago. A show of how they could, maybe, rule the mountain together one day. He’d left it here so long ago that he worried it would have been destroyed or fallen apart over time.

Apparently Wukong knew a little something about what he was doing back then after all.

Macaque smiled, slipping it back into his pocket as he slid off the bed to sit against it, all six ears fluttering out to listen to the island around them. Just in case.

Mei slept mostly soundly behind him and if she started to whine in the beginnings of a nightmare and he turned around to soothe her and whisper that he was there and she was alright well... that would be something to talk about if she remembered it.

[serenityseventeen]

Love & Letter: To The Thirteen Boys I've Loved Before

The Sixth Letter

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

To: Lee Jihoon

From: Y/N

I'm sorry.

Jihoon, I will not blame you for anything. If I were in your shoes, I would have been even more irritated than you were. I'm still irritated, actually.

I know for certain that you probably hate me so I will begin this letter for you by reminding us of our good times when no one was there to butt in.

When we first met in tech audio, I was really surprised that you were a musical genius. You knew how to work the garage band app right away and since we sat next to each other, I could already tell that you were familiar with it.

You were also able to play the guitar and the piano. I've always liked music so seeing someone play those two instruments just fascinated me. Not only that, but you also played the clarinet well.

You've probably lived around music all your life, right? I listen to music almost everywhere I go, every day, it's one of my human needs, but I have to admit, even after learning a bit of piano from you, I still have almost no idea about music. Genres of music are still hard to identify for me and I can still barely tell the difference in chords. I'm still thankful that you took the time out of your worktime to help me understand more about music.

Honestly, when I first saw you, Jihoon, I was intimidated. You didn't like exactly friendly and I just stupidly thought that you were one of those ‘perfectionist’ students who only cared for their grades and being the best. Also, just the way you looked when you didn't smile gave me that impression. However, when you smiled, you looked completely different. You looked cute. We laughed a lot together too.

I bet you that on our first assignment, I must've looked like a complete tech idiot. The assignment was just to come up with your original piece of music by messing around on the app. Was my confusion that easy to see through?

I don't know, but I think the moment that you helped me was when I started to realize you as the person you are now. You taught me how to use the app in such a gentle tone, you know that? I still feel like I can listen to your voice forever and I won't get bored of it.

I was happy with our forming friendship. I felt like I could truly be your friend. Plus, we had one other class together so I was able to talk with you a lot about music. Everything you say fascinates me and makes me believe that you are a musical genius. I still believe that you are even if I can't hear your songs anymore.

Speaking of your music, I think you should become a ‘pro’ music producer, lyricist, composer, songwriter, of them all. Your talent in music is truly undeniable!

That first piece you showed me called “17”, I have to say that that song may be my favorite out of all the songs you've sent me. I still have all the music files stored in my phone and I'll never delete them. It's not because I still like you that I'm keeping them but it's because I like the song. I might put them into an mp3 player and stick them on the back of this letter. Out of the 13 songs you've shown me, there was not one that I disliked.

Your voice is also heavenly. I love it. I don't understand why you aren't getting yourself a whole career already! You don't know this but when I was playing your song “Rock”, my father was totally digging it! Even my next-door neighbor wanted to know who was the artist behind “20”!

There was also that time when you were helping me learn how to read music using the piano and our hands kept brushing against each other. Our shoulders were also glued together because the seat was so small. If your heart was racing just as much as how pink your ears turned, then please, believe me, my heart was beating twice as fast.

You didn't just teach me music and show me your creations, you also shared music that you enjoyed. A lot of the songs are still in my playlist. You have great taste in music too, Jihoon. I enjoyed every moment we spent just sitting at the window of the classroom, sharing headphones and listening to the songs you liked.

When they were love songs, I just couldn't help thinking that you chose the song for a reason. I'm quite an overthinker. I always thought that maybe one of the songs you showed me held your heart and maybe they did, but now I'll never know.

I'm your fan, Jihoon, even though you probably wouldn't want me to be anymore. I still admire you and I respect you a lot, that's why I'm deciding to write you this letter. I'm not going to get too close to you, I won't even try to bring us back to what we were because now, it's too awkward between us. I know that deep inside, you must feel so a deep hatred toward me, even if it wasn't entirely my fault.

I've realized what kind of person you are, Jihoon. You're kind, caring, talented in almost everything, shy, and stubborn. You love music. You hate it when someone who isn't close to you gets all up in your business as if they know everything. You also hate narcissists. You're selfless and humble.

I don't know who you told but I'm sorry. Your trust must have been completely broken. I mean, I can just imagine how painful it would be, being an introvert and telling someone your crush while trusting them to keep the secret only to have them spill it to the person's friends.

I hate my friends because they ruined our relationship but since they are my friends, I just can't abandon them as if we didn't spend years being best buddies. I've been distancing myself from them for a while now but I think it won't be long until we continue hanging out again. I want to hang out with you too but you must feel so... angry.

I heard that you're not friends with the guy who leaked the secret that you liked me. I truly hope that you can find a friend that is a true friend. I don't want you to live in fear and keep everything to yourself. I'll always be here for you though, so please, even if I don't speak with you, you can speak to me.

Gosh, what am I saying? It can't be fixed.

You must've overheard it when my friends dragged me away from your cafeteria table and whispered to me, “Did you know? He likes you!”

I was flustered and when I turned back to you, I still remember seeing your hands clench. That's when I sort of knew that we wouldn't be friends anymore.

Even after having your trust broken, you continued to hang out around me, which made me believe that if I confessed my feelings to you when the time was right, we could fall in love. So, I spent a lot of time learning about you.

That's when my friends came in again. They started teasing us in front of the whole class, saying all that stupid cheesy shit. I was ready angry and kept telling them to stop but they wouldn't because they just thought I was like them.

‘When you're in high school, you don't want the person in the relationship, you just want a relationship.’

That was not the case for me but that's what they thought. I wanted you, Jihoon. I was ready to teach you about me and get to know you better so that when I was ready to love, we would be able to stay together.

My friends are stupid.

They continued to pressure us to be together.

Knowing you, you must've gotten extremely annoyed and fed up with it, enough for you to end your friendship with me. And that's exactly what happened, right?

Each day, for a month, they came to our desks singing stupid love songs meant for children. They were so childish and I was growing so sick of it. I knew that you didn't like that shit. I knew that you were just enduring it but I couldn't stop it and I'm sorry.

We went through all that humiliation together. I think we could have had a better love story if your friend didn't leak your secret and my friends didn't act like children. I saw sparks in your eyes, that's why I had hope that we could fall in love together, but we couldn't even get ready to love.

I just remember that day when you ignored me. I was telling you that your piece sounded good and asked if I could get a listen, but you didn't reply to me at all. You still don't talk to me. It makes my heart ache.

When our friendship got ruined, I almost ruined my other friendships too. You don't know this but they kept pestering me, asking if you and I were finally dating and if we had a couple fight. They kept reassuring me as if they knew what we were going through and saying that it was just a small love fight and that we would recover soon. They didn't even know the problem was them so I yelled at them.

In the middle of the cafeteria, I slammed my hands on the table and shouted at them. I'm sure you heard me, you were in the same room. I'm pretty sure that you didn't know about this either but when I left the cafeteria in anger, I cried in the stall of a bathroom.

Now, I'm fine.

I wonder what you thought of me then. I mean, we still had to see each other but we didn't talk to each other like we were strangers. I was angry at you for not understanding me so I didn't want to speak or even glance in your direction, even if it did hurt to ignore you.

I think I know what you feel but all I'm thinking about your emotions are just assumptions in the end. You're a stranger to me now. A stranger that I loved.

You brought me the colors of music.

If only things didn't have to turn out so negatively. If only one friend kept his promise of keeping a secret... If only a group of friends didn't tease so annoyingly... Maybe then, things would be different.

Oh yeah, I'm sorry about this too. I overheard you playing a song the other day. Don't worry, I didn't record it but I cried to it. I just have a feeling that the song was about me. All the lyrics, the depressing but gorgeous sound of the piano, your emotional voice, it all brought tears to my eyes. Were you in pain?

I had never heard the song before. When I cried to it, I had my hands covering my mouth to keep noise from slipping. I don't know if you heard me because you just continued singing.

“Maybe I could have been a man

when everyone was telling me to.

But both choices were selfish,

keep you close or let me go,

so I chose

let's just not fall in love.”

I think your choice was for the better.

Sincerely,

Y/N

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

© serenityseventeen

6/21/21 - 11:01 am

a/n: sigh... I feel like this letter was so relatable on so many levels. My former friends were like that, always wanting a relationship but not the person in the relationship. They're too desperate. + ARTHUR KYEOM COMEBACK!??!? SVT CHINESE DRAMA OST!?!?

[tevatstavern]

Injuries and affections.

- bennett seems to feel a little worn out after all his adventures lately, maybe its time to head back to Mondstadt and pay you a little visit too while he's at it.

[Bennett x g.n reader] [no t.w] [slight fluff at the end]

a.n my apologies, I made this at like 23:48 and I can't seem to keep my eyes longer lmaoo

-•-

With a huff, he clenched his sword tightly, before wiping off any dirt or sweat that came near in contact with his eyes. One of the last remaining's of Hilichurls, now lying and evaporating into small and thin blue particles, slowly drifting away to the skies.

Grabbing the damaged mask it left on the bristling grass, he decided to keep it. After all, it's a fortune to see a drop from these creatures after all!

As much as he was having fun adventuring off from Mondstadt to Liyue for the first time- including some bad luck striking him down here and there. -he felt tired. Drained, even. At first he thought maybe it was some type of tiredness he didn't know about, but that was proven fake by himself feeling the same as each day passes by a new dawn.

But then it strucked him! Both literally and figuratively. It was how he never stopped himself to relax as he continued on his journey along Liyue.

Most of the time, it was either he got chased down by a swam of Hilichurls, a massive thunderstorm with a high chance of being struck down and losing heat, and some group of Geovishaps that managed to cross paths with him, causing him to retreat in alarm as he watched them quickly roll towards him in such great speed.

He never had a chance to breathe at all. And besides, most of the chests he've found had only vegetables with a occasional artifact and such within them. He appreciates it, he really does! But its taking such a toll on him.

And so, he decided to stop his adventures for now and head back towards Mondstadt. A little break, he says to himself. A little break.

Following the pathway, he slowly made his way towards the bridge. The familiar city with its opened gates filled him with euphoria. The sun rays beaming down on the city, it's windmills moving with the wind, all together. It was truly a sight. And oh boy, he sure does miss it!

Breathing in the air, he sighed happily. The weight on his shoulders while he was traveling in Liyue had suddenly disappeared. Lifting his head high, with his grin plastered across his face, he took his first steps across the bridge.

"I'm--!

-baaaaack..." He groaned out, rubbing his forehead as he lets [y.n] scold him for his reckless behaviour. "Yes I know, and I'm happy to see you! But did you seriously trip over nothing while you were crossing over the bridge?" They sighed, wiping off the excess dirt that nudged his skin from across the table.

"Don't worry, about me [y.n]! I'm already used to it, hehe. Besides, I'm here to relax and see you too!" He grinned, giving them one of their signature thumbs up. They could only shake their head in disbelief, the curve of their lips turning upwards slightly at his adorable gesture.

"A ray of sunshine as always, I see." They replied, their hair flowing gently from the winds. His green eyes observing each strand as the wind blew stronger, his eyes shining brighter with a slightly gaping mouth. Snapping back to reality, he quickly nodded. A small blush slowly forming across his face, he could feel himself heating up.

"Y-yeah! Of course! There's no need to get sad and mopey at such a small thing after all!" He replied, his jumbled up words in the beginning messing up his delivery. With a chuckle, [y.n] retracted their hands before clearing their throat. "Well, at least this time you didn't cause such a mess here, in Good Hunter." A full smile now seen across their face.

Now acknowledging the fact he, infact, didnt cause a single mischief in Good Hunter yet, he gasped in surprise. "You're right! And I've just noticed it now! Is it because... you're right here with me and my bad luck isn't as bad it was before? Hehe, just a guess." He nervously laughed, scratching his head as he felt his face heat up more than the previous one.

Laughing, [y.n] slowly stood up from their chair and walked towards Bennett. Their eyes immediately finding one another as the spark burst through their veins. Though, they were both sure that their hearts were beating faster than usual.

It was no secret that the both of them have been crushing on one another for such a long period of time. The both of them were completely oblivious! 'They were a match made in heaven' the citizens of Mondstadt would say beneath their breaths. Even Kaeya himself, the charming yet flirtatious man could tell they were both lovestruck from a mile away.

"Maybe, but I think thats mostly just you and your positivity today. Come on! we still have to go to Timaeus for some of your equipment and talent skills." Nodding along to their words, Bennett quickly stood up and placed his chair back to its original position, before quickly catching up with [y.n].

"You know... I never gotten to ask how you were doing today." Bennett spoke out, walking slowly as humanly they both could be. Tracing behind them as he stared at the Cathedral from above. The bushes moving softly as the wind blew harder once again. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he blinked a few times before retracting his hand back.

It almost felt like the wind was trying to tell him something...

"Oh, well. Same old same old, I never changed much while you were away. I'm still the good ol' Mondstadt citizen you know."

"Huh? You didn't do anything at all while I was away?"

"Yeah, I didn't find much fun in anything with you gone and away. It was boring, but there wasn't anything I could do."

He was sure his heart skipped a beat, but in a more rapid way. Shaking his head to remove the fuzziness in his mind, he then placed a hand across his chest. Feeling his heart beat in such a rapid pace, just because of their words...

Is this what it feels like to be in love?

"W-woah! That's such a big compliment coming from you... B-but maybe we can hangout with eachother while adventuring! And we can find some treasure chest while we're at it too!" He exclaimed, making his hands turn into a fist before raising it high up to the air with such enthusiasm.

"Well, if you want to! Of course, hehe." He quickly added in. [y.n] could only just chuckle in return, a blush apparent in their features, accepting the invitation in a heartbeat.

"Of course, I wouldn't mind it one bit! Anyways, we're here. Go ahead and do what you need to do with that alchemist powers of yours!" With a chuckle, he gave his signature thumbs up and grin that seems to always be apparent on his face. And immediately went working on the materials needed to build and talents to upgrade.

Though it might've taken quite longer to craft the materials. With them standing by his side, as they idly chatted about common things, sometimes Timaeus would also join in. He could feel his free hand being intertwined by theirs slowly, and then gently squeezing it. So, with a happy stretched smile across his face, slightly hidden by his hair. He squeezed it back reassuringly.

Even if he doesn't get to confess his love yet, a simple affection was enough to make him feel happy and contented the whole day.

"Huh? How come I've only received 10 of these, when I made 23?"

"Bennett, I think your bad luck is starting to come out again..."

-

Not the best;; since it's my first time writing anything for a actual Character. But! If there's any request. I'll try my best to write them down!

[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Fifteen: Three Professors

A/N: This is the fifteenth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 2001

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

Within the week the gossiping from the weekend's events had almost completely died down. However, with Severus and Aria acting civil towards one another during lessons, and almost completely back to their old habits of spending the evening together a whole new set of rumours were threatening to begin.

Karkaroff had mostly backed off Aria's case on the Severus front. However, this did not mean he had any intention of stopping socialising with her any chance he got. Igor had become invested in the relationship of the two potions professors' and he would not stop until he had the answers he was looking for. He took to visiting her during the majority of her free periods, as well as some evenings after class, often convincing her to join him for a stroll around the castle grounds, where he sought to pry into her personal life, especially her relationship with the potions master. It didn't bother Aria too much to begin with, in fact, she liked the company, but as the week grew to an end, she had become suspicious of his true intentions.

Almost immediately as lessons came to an end on Friday evening, right on cue, came a knock at the door. Before the potions apprentice had a second to open her mouth, the door was already pushed ajar, revealing the sunken features of Igor Karkaroff.

"Hello Igor." Aria sighed, barely sparing him a second glance.

"Good afternoon, beautiful lady" Igor chirped, his accent almost thicker than usual. Aria rolled her eyes at the headmaster, but chuckled lightly to herself in amusement. "Are you free to join me on a leisurely stroll around the castle?" He queried, striding into the center of the room, taking a seat behind one of the student's desks.

"Are you mad, Igor? The rain hasn't stopped all day! Besides, Professor Snape set a load of essays last week, that I have the pleasure to mark. I don't think I would be much in the way of conversation today, I have too much to do." She confessed, attempted to dissuade him.

"Nevertheless, I shall keep you company. I do not have anywhere to be."

"Thank you." Aria grimaced, really just wanting to focus on getting her marking done.

"Speaking of Severus..." Karkaroff begun, once again distracting Miss Dumbledore from her work. "There have been rumours of the two of you circling the school." He stated, leaving the intention of his sentence free for Aria to interpret.

"I am very well aware, Igor." She huffed. "Though they have begun to fizzle out in the last few days, I am pleased to say." The witch continued scribbling.

"That is not what I am talking about." The man shook his head, though kept his gaze firmly on the professor in an interrogative manner.

Aria raised an eyebrow, but did not stop reading the length of parchment.

"It has been said in this past week that you have entered into a relationship with the potions master, is this true?"

"God Igor, I never thought you so naïve that you would believe that sort of rubbish." She sniggered, allowing him a smidge more of her attention. "Like I would ever go out with a man like that, you surely heard what he said to me last week, it is unforgivable." Aria scoffed. "Besides, you should know just as well as I that people love to talk, students especially. Haven't you heard the one about us? It's all a load of nonsense, don't listen to any of it."

"I was simply... curious." He shrugged. "I would not like to think a beautiful woman such as yourself had gone to waste, like you say Severus Snape is simply not worth your time. You deserve much more."

"Thank you, Igor, however I do not think this is an appropriate conversation to have between colleagues, let's keep it professional." Aria suggested, noticing that the headmaster had a tendency to sidetrack the conversation to her love life.

A minute or more passed while the pair sat in silence before another knock interrupted.

Assuming it to be a student, Aria rose from her desk and made her way to the door. "Severus." She gasped, not expecting him to respect her privacy, just as Karkaroff had not. "You knocked?... again." Aria's eyes widened, taking a step back as she came face to face with the potions master.

"Yes, well, while I am not overjoyed with the current arrangements, I at least respect your need for some privacy." Severus wavered at the door, his eyes flickering towards the young woman, before taking it upon himself to enter the room, stopping almost immediately upon spotting Igor.

"I see I was right to to announce myself." The two men shared a short but intense glare. "Igor. I see you've made yourself quite at home."

"Oh... umm, Professor Karkaroff had just stopped by for a chat while I finish up on some marking." Aria rushed to explain, knowing exactly where Snape's mind was heading. "What can I do for you, Severus?"

"I came to collect the essays I assigned last week, I did not think it fair to leave them all to you while I sat in my room twiddling my thumbs."

"That's very kind of you Severus. Would you care to join us, you look like you could use the company." Aria practically begged.

Severus considered her offer for a second, knowing that what he wanted least of all was to spend time with Igor Karkaroff. However, on the other hand, he also wasn't too keen on leaving the pair alone, unsure of what he might spill to his apprentice. In the end Snape's better judgment overcame his pride and so he proceeded to pull up a chair, separating the two already seated professors.

Severus set to aggressively scribbling notes in the margins of the students essays, the scratching of his quill on parchment dominating the room. A long while past with only this and the sounds of bubbling cauldrons occupying the professors' ears. The tension between the three thickened as time went on. All scared to speak in fear of the other's response.

Finally Igor chose to break the silence, bored of staring at the potion's professors quietly marking away in unison.

"It must be hard for you Severus." Igor tested the waters, waiting on a response.

"What are you hinting at, Igor? What exactly is hard for me?" Snape replied cautiously after a moment of deliberation.

"Well, a man like you; settled in his position, proud of his job, it must be hard knowing you'll be replaced by a must younger, much more attractive model." Karkaroff shifted position in his chair, becoming more comfortable, confident in his ability to undermine the Potions master once again.

"Despite what you may have hoped Igor, you are sorely mistaken. My job is under no threat. I was simply asked to take a short week's sabbatical, in light of the recent events, until all the commotion has died down. And that week is coming to an end." Snape turned his attention from the essays, lifting his quill from the paper, and placing it to the side.

"Yes, yes of course." Igor humoured him. His body language radiating arrogance. "But it must be worrying, knowing that your job is potentially threatened by Miss Dumbledore here. She has the same skills as you, the same knowledge, and what she doesn't know now she soon will once you've been foolish enough to teach it to her. It cannot be easy, being forced to train the woman who will inevitability replace you."

"I do not know what your game is Igor, but I assure you, Miss Dumbledore is no threat to me."

Aria's ears pricked up at the second mention of her name, her gaze shooting between the two men.

"I really don't think this is relevant boys, can't we talk about something else?" Aria nervously nibbled on the edge of her lower lip. She knew where this was going and she didn't have an answer for what was coming. She also knew how vicious these men could be when they really wanted to, and she did not want to be in the room when they both pushed the other too far.

"Oh come on, Aria, darling. It must have crossed your mind. You are younger after all, the students relate to you more, god knows it wouldn't be hard to like you more. Not to mention your lineage, it cannot be more clear who Albus would prefer to employ. His own flesh and blood? Or someone with Severus'... background?"

"Watch your mouth, Igor." Snape droned through gritted teeth and flared nostrils.

"My grandfather didn't bring me here to replace Severus. He's a great professor, and a fantastic friend to him. I would even go as far to say that he trusts Severus' with his life. I am simply an apprentice. A year's training, that's what we agreed." Aria beamed, convinced she had put out the fire, unaware to the fact Igor had just lit another spark right under Severus' feet.

"With his life, eh?" Igor chuckled to himself. "How very clever you have been, Severus."

Confused Aria simply took a step back in the conversation, finally coming to the understanding that none of this was really about her.

Aria could sense Snape was uncomfortable, his body tensed and he straightened his posture, gripping his quill for comfort.

"I think it is time for you to leave, Headmaster Karkaroff. Miss Dumbledore and I are working, and prefer not to be disturbed."

"I see your game, Severus. I always knew you were a smart man, but you have played this very well indeed. But I know you, and I might just be able to beat you at your own game, if you are not careful."

"What is he talking about Snape?" The young woman whispered, turning her full attention to her colleague.

"Goodbye, Igor." Karkaroff gladly took a stand, knowing, despite Snape's commanding tone, he had won this round.

Igor Karkaroff rounded the desk, gently lifting Aria Dumbledore's hand to his lips.

"Until, next time." He breathed, bowing his head to kiss her gently, before showing himself out. "Your past is calling you Severus, and Dumbledore is ready to replace you when you go running right back."

Snape immediately rose from his chair, Aria suspecting that he was ready to storm from the room.

"Fuck." Aria breathed, joining Snape in standing. "What the hell was all that about?"

"That is none of your concern." Snape snapped, beginning to pile his papers.

"Of course... of course, it isn't." Aria shook her head knowing it was a stupid thing to say. "I only meant... well, are you okay?" She couldn't think of anything else to say.

"While I appreciate your concern, Miss Dumbledore. I am not a child who needs consoling, nor do I need your pity. I am perfectly capable of handling the likes of Igor Karkaroff."

"Yes, of course, you are. I...I just-"

"Miss Dumbledore." Severus interjected, huffing though he didn't seem nearly as angry as Aria expected. He saw the woman quickly becoming flustered trying to think of the right thing to say so as not to displease him, this was not a rare occurrence. For once Severus' actually felt sorry for her and decided to cut her some slack. They had, after all, promised to become friends.

"I need you to calm down." Snape softly commanded, though quickly moved on. "While that encounter with Professor Karkaroff was less than pleasant, it is far from unfamiliar to me. Igor and I have a past. A past I would rather forget about, him, on the other hand, not so much. My advise to you is stay out of his way. I am under the impression he has his eye set on you."

"Why would he-"

"Goodnight, Miss Dumbledore." And with that Snape returned to his quarters for the evening, Aria's questions remaining unanswered.

What was Karkaroff up to that concerned her of all people?

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel​ @lizlil​

[apollos-son]

✎ ❝Won't You Stay By My Side?❞

Rating ; 13+

Pairing ; eventual poly ot8 ateez

Genre ; fluff, slight angst?

Tags ; painter Yeosang au, old au, nothing but sweet romance, poly ot8

Summery ; Kang Yeosang is a painter from the big city who recently moved away to a little port town very far away from any place he knew. With a determination to paint the scenic views, Yeosang hastily tries to settle in but finds that he can't get much work done because there happens to be some... distractions around the little town that seem to grab his attention in ways that other things couldn't.

I know this is unlikely but I do ask that you do not copy my work under any circumstances. Do not repost, translate or use my work without permission. Thanks :)

<- previous chapter • next chapter ->

Chapter 2 ⇢ ❝I Think That You're Charming.❞

Come Thursday Morning, Yeosang had been staying in Clearbrook Port for a day. He hadn't gotten much sleep that prior night with all of the thoughts bouncing around in his head. He hadn't painted a portrait in a while, and he was nervous at the idea of painting that gorgeous man from the day before.

Just the thought of him stumbling around his words before Hongjoong made him cringe, but it didn't seem as though Hongjoong's father was going to take no for an answer. That was evident in the fact that the older man hadn't given Yeosang a chance to reply when he had asked. Begrudgingly, despite his nervousness, Yeosang collected his things and he popped them in the smaller of the two cases he had brought with him, which was now sitting under the stairs that lead to the bedroom on the highest shelf.

It was as soon as he walked out of his front door that he was met with a loud shriek. The loud noise caused him to squeak and look up and there, before him, was a male with a cute, wide smile. He was considerably small, but he held a plate with a small sponge cake on it. "Kang Yeosang, right?" The male asked, his voice smooth. "Yes, t-that's me," he confirmed, which somehow caused the other boy's smile to widen "Jung Wooyoung! I would've greeted you yesterday, but the bakery gets quite hectic in the morning when people want to buy fresh bread," the new boy, Wooyoung, admitted. "but I baked this cake for you to celebrate your arrival!"

The cake looked rich in colour and it had three layers. Between each one there seemed to be a thick, redish substance, probably jam, that made Yeosang's mouth water slightly. The painter bowed deeply and smiled "ah, thank you so much! I really appreciate it!"

*

After a sweet chat in front of Yeosang's home, the younger of the two had offered to show the painter the way to Hongjoong's humble home. "How did you know about that?" Yeosang queried. "Mingi-ah told me! He and Jongho-ssi stopped by the bakery after you left!" he squeaked. Yeosang looked at him blankly for a moment before nodding, "Ah, you're the baker!" Yeosang realised, his eyes sparkling. The comment caused Wooyoung to burst into bright, bubbly laughter. "W-What are you laughing at?" The painter stuttered. "Nothing you're just... Hehehe.. You're just so cute!!"

That comment was stuck in Yeosang's head as they strolled up the stone walkway leading to the large house on the hill. Him? Cute?? That wasn't the first time a male from this small town had complimented him in such a manner. A manner that was almost natural and sweet. The thought came to a halt, a soft tap to his arm bringing him back to reality. "This is it, Mayor Kim's house. Yeah, it's on the bigger side which does cause some people in the town to get vexed but,, I try not to think about it!!" Wooyoung concluded with a nod. "Good luck! Don't faint or anything! I know if I had to paint Kim Hongjoong I would," the young baker swooned.

It was odd to Yeosang that Wooyoung had such an interest in the handsome man, calling him beautiful and admiring him. He had seen pretty girls in the town too... so why wouldn't Wooyoung pay attention to them? He would need a spouse eventually... and liking men wasn't really a viable option. Not even in a little town like this.

Yeosang heaved a soft sigh as he watched the smaller male skip away happily. He gave the door a gentle knock and it soon opened. The house was very beautiful. It was built in the same style of the other houses, yet it was bigger and somehow much more... ravishing. The doors had engraved golden patterns and the frames of the windows did too, to match. Yeosang's attention was brought to the door once more when a woman cleared her throat. She was in maid-like attire and had a rather impatient look about her. "Welcome to Master Kim's humble abode, may I help you sir?" she asked in a bored tone, her head cocking to the side to feign interest.

"I'm here because the Mayor requested my services?" Yeosang said and the maid's look hardened. "N-Not like that!! H-He asked me to paint his son's portrait..." The young painter stuttered and the maid's eyes widened to the size of golf balls. "Kang Yeosang..?! Ah, my apologies, sir. This way, sir," she stammered as she turned on her heel to lead Yeosang down the entrance hall. There were many paintings already decorating the hall, and the walls that they hung from had more beautiful designs etched into their wooden surfaces.

They had come to a halt and the maid pointed down the eastern hall. "The two larger doors at the end lead into Master Hongjoong's quarters, he will most likely be in there, sir," she said politely. Yeosang nodded his head "right.. thank you," he hummed as he carefully walked down the wide corridor. There seemed to be a skylight in the center of the corridor, where it met the two doors the maid spoke of.

He took the deepest of breaths, and knocked very lightly on the door. No reply came. He then tried again, louder this time, but still no reply. He decided that he would just have to enter with caution.

When Yeosang entered through the carefully etched wooden doors, he could've sworn that his eyes were deceiving him. Kim Hongjoong, that same sweet male who had greeted the young painter so warmly, had his back against one of the chocolate coloured desks, the buttons of his shirt mostly loose apart from the bottom ones, a taller man who was in much more formal attire kissed him smoothly, passionately. The kiss looked to be slow and full of love. Yeosang thought that he should be terrified, that he's watching the Mayor's son casually make-out with a random man he hasn't seen before but the worst part was, he wasn't terrified nor was he worried. Watching the two men kiss made his heart swell.

His lips pressed into a thin line as a deep scarlet colour came over his face and the tips of his ears. He didn't know what to say.. what was he supposed to say?? An 'Oh hey, Mister Hongjoong, I'm here to paint you now and by the way, I'll make sure not to mention your make out session to anybody,' seemed inappropriate. Very inappropriate. So he stood still, fiddling with the case he had brought with him.

It was the taller man that noticed him first, and he pulled away from Hongjoong's lips causing said boy to whine. "S-Seonghwa what are you-" the small male started "you have company, sir," Seonghwa said softly and he offered Yeosang a smile. "Mister Kang was it? We should have managed our time better, Mister Kim," he chuckled. "Don't 'Mister Kim' me," Hongjoong huffed as he stood up, buttoning up his expensive-looking shirt flusteredly. "Yeosang.. I'm sorry you had to uh... witness that," Hongjoong sighed. "O-Oh no!" Yeosang squeaked "it's o-okay! I wasn't expecting it is all..."

The smile that was brought to Hongjoong's face after Yeosang spoke was breathtaking. "So you enjoyed it?" he asked teasingly, which caused Yeosang to whine quietly. "Sir, don't tease the poor boy," the taller man.. Seonghwa said with a smile. His smile was pretty too. And his eyes sparkled prettily. Yeosang found himself lost in them quickly. Hongjoong laughed gently, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, which brought Yeosang back to reality. "Alright, alright. You're here for my portrait, yes? Well, my father wanted the background to be of the manor but... I think the nearby flower field would be the perfect place for a portrait... wouldn't you agree Yeosang?" The male's pretty eyes had turned to glance at Yeosang again, and the painter didn't know how to respond without stuttering, so he gave a slow nod instead. Hongjoong smiled again, and oh wow was that smile gorgeous. "Come along then, we should get started soon so you have time to work,"

*

Yeosang's eyes sparkled as he looked around. This was the flower field, filled with so many different wild flowers. He couldn't stop looking at the scenery, luscious green grass with colourful buds of life scattered around.

He didn't realise, however, that Hongjoong stood beside him with the most endearing of smiles on his face, gazing at Yeosang's awestruck nature. He couldn't believe that yet another beautiful man, among the other six he admired, was before him. Yeosang's features looked perfect to him, like a statue. A wonderful piece of art. Hongjoong almost felt as though he should be the one painting Yeosang. Granted, he wasn't the most talented artist. So perhaps it was better off the other way around.

Yeosang had gotten acquainted with Seonghwa briefly, and had learnt that Seonghwa was Hongjoong's personal assistant, which didn't seem necessary to him and also caused him to wonder how rich the Mayor could possibly be. He didn't complain really though, because he couldn't deny that the man was incredibly attractive. He also had already developed a habit of making Yeosang incredibly flustered.

Hongjoong had brought a stool out with him, bless his little soul, not for himself, but for Yeosang to be seated on. Hongjoong had the idea of being seated in the tall grass on a small hill that housed an old oak tree. "Are you sure you're okay with this? We can always return to the manor if you don't think you'd be able to-" Yeosang shook his head and smiled, cutting the elder male off "t-that won't be necessary, sir, I'm confident I can capture the beauty of both you and the scenery," he said, confidence in his voice but shyness evident in his body language. His firm confirmation made Hongjoong smile widely, his eyes becoming little crescents as he did so. "Well, alright, as long as you're okay with it,"

Within the next ten minutes, Yeosang had his easel and canvas ready and Hongjoong had sat down, rather gracefully may Yeosang add, in the grass. It was perfect, the way that the grass didn't cover his body entirely but almost encased him. The oak tree was close by, casting over some shade that met with the afternoon sun's bright shining light in an almost seamless way. Seonghwa stood at Yeosang's side, not too close yet not too far; it was far enough to give Yeosang space.

Quietly, the painter took his paintbrush and stared at Hongjoong for a while, measuring the male up with his surroundings. His left eye had fluttered closed so he could perfectly measure the scale of the scenery. From Hongjoong's perspective, it did give the impression of a wink and the thought of that alone made Hongjoong's cheeks bloom in a soft red. The painter had noticed the rosy hue, but he didn't speak, he only thought how beautiful the rosiness made Hongjoong look. Was this man always this attractive? His smile was beautiful, his flusteredness was cute and his personality was refreshing from the chatting that they had done whilst Yeosang was preparing. "I need you to hold that pose... y-you can, right?" Yeosang asked with a small tilt of his head.

There was a part of him that scolded the way his heart swelled when Hongjoong sent him a small nod and a wink. He couldn't fall in love with a man... it.. it wasn't right, was it? Even the way Seonghwa looked at him made his heart ache, and when he saw them kissing..

Then his mind went to Mingi, to Wooyoung too and he thought about how much worse it would be if he fell for the men in this town. Now that would cause all sorts of problems. He sighed very softly, which caused Hongjoong to give him a concerned gaze "are you okay, Yeosang?" he asked politely. "Y-Yes! I'm alright! Just,, thinking," he stammered with a little smile.

He felt his face heat up at Hongjoong's reassurance that he could talk to him if he needed too ("I know as the Mayor's son, I seem big and bad but I'm not, I promise!") and he lightly cursed under his breath because he was falling in love, wasn't he? Or at the very least in deep like, if that was even a thing. His head stayed busy with thoughts as his paintbrush glided across the canvas.

*

It was Saturday morning, and Yeosang was up early and panicking. Usually, he wouldn't wake up this early just to panic, but today was important. Yesterday, Hongjoong had offered for Yeosang to join him and Seonghwa for a small picnic beside the flower field's river, to take a break from the painting that the younger had been doing. He had also mentioned that he invited a few more guests along which made Yeosang even more petrified because he barely knew anybody in the little town. He knew Mingi, he knew Wooyoung and he had briefly met Jongho on his first day. He had also met the town's apothecary-in-training Yunho when he had cut himself when returning home on Thursday evening.

'Yeosang held the wound on his arm firmly, hissing a little bit at the pain. He had cut himself on his easel when he was packing it away, but didn't want to worry Hongjoong or Seonghwa so he covered it up. He was still thinking about Hongjoong... those sweet smiles and those soft words of reassurance. So much so, that he walked straight into a tall man. "A-Ah! I'm so sorry!!" Yeosang quickly apologized and gazed up at the tall man. He had round, golden-rimmed glasses sitting on his nose and he wore the cutest of smiles. "Aha, no, no. I should be sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going. I'm Jeong Yunho, by the way," the tall man said bashfully as he helped Yeosang back up to his feet. Yunho took a good look at Yeosang's arm and gasped "oh gosh.. look at that, you're hurt. Come this way, I'm an apothecary! I can bandage it up for you!" Yunho chirped.'

Yeosang smiled fondly at the memory and stared at his bandaged arm. He then shook his head as his mind flickered back to the matter at hand, he had to get ready! Well, now that he glanced at the clock.. he would end up being two hours early if he changed and left now. Yeosang bit his thumb nail softly, so he didn't damage it, and ultimately decided that he was going to have a long shower to make sure he didn't smell bad.

He came out of the shower about thirty minutes later looking all wrinkled and pruney. He sighed, looking down at his hands "well at least I smell good," he hummed as he stepped out of the petite bathroom. He prepared his clothes prior to getting in the shower, so he was already well prepared. A soft shirt with a jacket, tweed trousers, his favorite boots and a beret. Staring into the mirror, he watched as his reflection stared back, copying his motion of flattening down the crinkles in his shirt. He wasn't trying to "doll up" or whatever the expression was, but he certainly wanted to look good. He wasn't sure whether Hongjoong had invited him as a date or just as a friendly outing.

Wait... who was he kidding? He shouldn't- he couldn't- be with a man, could he? Seonghwa and Hongjoong seemed to do it just fine, but Yeosang was unsure as to whether they were an item or just "friends-who-kiss" and he was meaning to ask but he didn't know how to go about it.

All of the worrying he was doing caused him to nearly be late, when he stared at the clock and gasped, he couldn't have tried to rush out of his house sooner. When he got to his front door though, he was surprised to see Yunho standing there "o-oh! Hyung!" Yeosang said in surprise. "Y-You startled me.." Yunho smiled nervously, his ears turning pink. "Ah.. I'm sorry, Yeosang, I came by to check that your arm was okay,," he admitted and Yeosang stared at him for a moment or two. What a sweetheart, he thought. "And I also came by to ask if you wanted to accompany me to the flower fields? I heard that Hongjoong invited you too," Yeosang smiled at Yunho, all too enraptured by his beauty. When he processed what the other had said he squeaked. "Huh..? Wait, wait- he invited you too? Do you know of the people he invited?" Yeosang asked him nervously and Yunho chuckled, nodding slowly. "I'm sure you know a few of them, Wooyoung... Mingi.. Jongho too?" The tall medic inquired in an amused tone, tilting his head.

Yeosang's jaw hung open for a few moments "I had no idea," he mumbled. "Well, we've been doing it for a couple of weeks now, we'd go and have a picnic by the river and Hongjoong-ah wanted to invite you, so he did and here I am to accompany you on the way up there," Yunho concluded and smiled. "C'mon, if we're quick there will still be some food left for us," he giggled and tugged on Yeosang's uninjured arm, leading the painter away.

*

When Yunho and Yeosang arrived by the river, the small painter's eyes widened comically. Yunho hadn't lied to him. Wooyoung was sat on the pretty little picnic blanket and was talking to a male at his side, Jongho and Mingi were chatting and Seonghwa and Hongjoong sat on the grass, hand-in-hand. He noticed that a straw hat was perched on Hongjoong's head. He was just so... cute. Hongjoong turned to smile at Yeosang widely. "Ah! Yeosang, you're here! I hope you don't mind the extra company," Hongjoong giggled sheepishly.

"Nice to see you too, hyung," Yunho joked playfully and the elder male gasped "oh! Is that Yunnie? I didn't see you there before~" he teased. Yunho snorted softly and took a seat on the blanket. "Oh! Oh!! Yeosang! Sit down!! You need to try the macarons I made!" Wooyoung squealed excitedly.

Yeosang's smile was wide, this was one of the sweetest get-togethers he had been a part of. All of the boys looked pretty, he learned that the boy with black and white hair was called San. It was a very... pleasant afternoon of them just enjoying eachother's company. But Yeosang couldn't help but notice small things like the way that Hongjoong and Seonghwa held hands, or the way that Mingi rubbed San's lower back or even the way that Jongho's hand rested on Yunho's knee for just a little bit too long. He saw it all, and he was sure the others knew he saw it as well.

He munched the sandwich Wooyoung had given him quietly, before he couldn't stop himself from speaking anymore. "W-What is going on here exactly? Are you.. together? Just friends? Because you're all acting... odd.. like you're all in a relationship but, that can't be right, can it? Men aren't supposed to date other men," Yeosang started, words flowing out of his mouth before he could register what they were, and he swallowed thickly. He did not mean to word it like that. Everybody was dead silent at that point, and all eyes were on Yeosang. Some glaring, some disappointed, but all of them were somewhat cold. That made him feel small, that made him feel fragile.

He didn't know what to say now.

[natromanxoff]

Queen live at Colston Hall in Bristol, UK - November 18, 1975

x

The photos could be from either night.

This article from the November 29 issue of Sounds chronicles the second night in Bristol.

Queen triumphant

QUEEN ARE the type of group that make a man want to abandon rock writing. They pose questions and never provide answers. They exist in their own space-time continuum, visible and audible but keeping their secrets to themselves.

On the surface they couldn't be a nicer bunch of people, but they carry English reticence to an epitome. It isn't, as Geoff Barton said two weeks ago, that they're boring, it's just that they're reserved. Or in writer parlance, they don't automatically provide colourful copy. All my instincts as a writer tell me that there is a great story in that band, but after two nights with them I'm hardly any the wiser.

Skin tight

That their insularity has a lot to do with them being one of the most amazing heavy-metal and/or rock bands in Britain - with all the signs that they'll end up monsters on the order of Zep - is fairly obvious, but just how much bearing it has on the matter is hard to say. The enigmas they might pose mightn't even have answers.

Is there any logical reason why they present an image and persona straight out of the Beatles school of interlocking chemistry?

John is reserved, almost nonchalant on stage, as if it's all in a small, personal joke. When asked how he saw himself within the framework of the band he replied, with a small smile, "I'm the bassist".

Roger is his opposite, the cheeky sidekick in a Clint Eastwood movie, and attracting a lot of cheesecake attention in America and Japan.

Freddie is an original - one of the most dynamic singers to tread the boards in quite a few years. His attraction is obvious.

Brian is perhaps the biggest enigma of all. What is this seemingly frail, gaunt astronomer doing on that stage, striding purposefully and blasting diamond-hard rock? They're all equally strong personalities - like the Beatles there's no one major focal point. Ask four fans who their dream Queen is and you'll get four different answers.

Queen have been busy lads these past few months. Having disassociated themselves from their former management and joined with John Reid, the fourth album was seen to. Reid decided that a tight schedule wouldn't cause them undue harm, and figured on two months to record before embarking on this current tour.

Only Queen are driven to better each previous album - which at this stage of the game is obviously producing some excellent results - and 'A Night At The Opera' turned into a saga - culminating in 36-hour mixing sessions in an effort to allow at least a few days for rehearsal. In the end they managed three and a half days at Elstree with four hours off to videotape the promotional film for 'Bohemian Rhapsody'.

Their first few dates had not been without errors and the quartet were still not feeling totally comfortable their second night in Bristol, fourth night of the tour. You'd never know it, though.

Like all other aspects of the group, the stage is sophisticated. A black scrim provides a backdrop bounded by a proscenium of lights both front and rear. At each side the p.a. rises like a mutant marriage of Mammon and Robby the Robot. Amp power is readily evident but the most extraordinary is Brian May's subtle set up: nine Vox boxes stepping back in rows of three. The only packing crate visible is holding a tray of drinks, and you may rest assured that no roadie will rush, crawl or lurk across the stage while the show is in progress unless it's to rescue Freddie's mike from the clawing crowd.

As the auditorium darkens the sound of an orchestra tuning up is heard over the p.a. The conductor taps his baton on the music stand and a slightly effete voice welcomes the audience to A Night At The Opera. The Gilbert & Sullivan portion of 'Bohemian Rhapsody' follows, a brief glimpse of Freddie is allowed, and then in a blast of flares and white smoke the blitzkrieg begins.

Roger is barely visible behind his kit, just his eyes and tousled locks. John is wearing a white suit and playing the-man-who-must-stand-still-or-it-will-all-blow-away. Brian is slightly medieval in his green and white Zandra Rhodes top, while Freddie is...

Around his ankles his satin white pants flare like wings - fleet footed Hermes. Everything north of the knee is skin tight - tighter than skin tight - with a zip-up front open to AA rating. But further south, definitely in X territory, lurks a bulge not unlike the Sunday Telegraph.

There have been sex objects and sex bombs, superstar potency and the arrogant presentation of this all-important area, but never has a man's weaponry been so flagrantly showcased. Fred could jump up on the drum stand and shake his cute arse, leap about and perform all manner of amazing acrobatics, but there it was, this rope in repose, barely leashed tumescence, the Queen's sceptre. Oh to be that hot costume, writhing across the mighty Fred!

Phallic

Freddie is not pretty in the conventional sense of the word; like Mick Jagger of '64, he is his own convention. Also like the Jagger of the time, his stage persona and action is unlike anything else. Although it borrows - like most of the group's plagiarisms - slightly from Zeppelin, in tandem with Freddie's supreme assurance and belief in himself - he always refers to himself as a star - it explodes into something that is a constant delight to watch.

He reacts to his audience almost like an over-emotional actress - Gloria Swanson, say, or perhaps Holly Woodlawn playing Bette Davis. At the climax of the second night in Bristol he paused at the top of the drum stand, looked back over the crowd and with complete, heartfelt emotion placed his delicate fingers to lips and blew a kiss. Any person who can consume themselves so completely in such a clichéd showbiz contrivance deserves to be called a star.

Freddie's real talent, though, is with his mike stand. No Rod Stewart mike stand callisthenics here, just a shortee stick that doubles as a cock, machine gun, ambiguous phallic symbol, and for a fleeting moment an imaginary guitar. He has a neat trick of standing quite still in particularly frantic moments and holding the stand vertically from his crotch up, draw a fragile finger along its length, ever closer to the taunting eyes that survey his audience.

Their show contains lots of bombs and smoke, lots of lights, lots of noise. They fulfil the function of supremely good heavy metal - i.e. you don't get a second to think about what's going on. When they do let up for a few minutes, it's only so you can focus in on the bright blue electric charge crackling between your ears.

Bulldozer

Dominating the sound is Roger's drumming, a bulldozer echo that bounces like an elastic membrane, meshing with your solar plexus so that your body pulses in synch with the thunder. Tuned into that, everything else is just supremely nice icing.

For three days rehearsal, after eight months off the road Bristol was extremely impressive. In speculative mood I quizzed people on how long they thought it would take to headline Madison Square Garden. I was thought a radical at a year and a half. John Reid smilingly assured me it would take a year.

That Queen should end up with John Reid is an entirely logical proceeding. Everything about Queen demands that the world eventually kowtows at their feet in complete acquiescence - so big that bodyguards have to accompany them at every step. Well, no - they found that an annoyance in Japan, but, you know, huge.

Such status demands a Reid or a Peter Grant, and whatever the causes for their leaving Jack Nelson and Trident, an elegant group like Queen is going to look for a man with class. Reid found the idea of managing a group interesting, and having to deal with four strong personalities a challenge. He only concerns himself with their business and ensuring that the year ahead is mapped out. In January they begin a jaunt through the Orient, Australia and America, by which time it's March and they begin preparations for the next album.

Reid's prediction of a year was proven highly credible the next evening in Cardiff. The band had still not paused from the rush up to the tour and spent most of the day relaxing and sleeping - no doubt a factor in their near recumbent profile. Also, unlike most groups, they were keeping their dissatisfaction with the show to themselves.

They stopped off at Harlech TV on the way to see a cassette of the video for 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. The general consensus was quite good for four hours, with much laughter during the operetta. Brian finds film of the group educational - the first time he saw himself was a Mike Mansfield opus for 'Keep Yourself Alive' - "It was 'All right fellows, give it everything you've got but don't move off that spot.' It was terrible." You don't like Mansfield, eh? "Oh, I hate him - we all do... I was horrified when I saw it - I couldn't believe we looked that bad. I looked very static - seeing myself has taught me a lot about stage movement. Some of the things I do are planned for effect, but it's mostly just feeling the audience and communicating that back to them."

Arriving at the motel - several miles out of town - Freddie immediately fell asleep, John held court of a sort, joined later by Brian, while Roger went jogging, a daily event when touring. Tuning in to rock via Bill Haley and Tommy Steele, he became a drummer because he was better at it than guitar. All through school he was in bands; he only went to dental school out of "middle class conditioning, and it was a good way to stay in London without having to work". His mother thought it a bit strange when he opted for a career as a rock star, but she doesn't worry too much now.

The concert starts in much the same manner as the previous night, but there are signs that tonight is work, with posing an afterthought. The endings to most of their songs are magnificent and majestic, especially 'Flick Of The Wrist' and the rapid harmonies of 'Bad Boy Leroy Brown'.

Maniacal

The audience, seeing their faces in town for the first time, are vociferous in their appreciation. Guys know all the words to every song, yelling enthusiastically at every effect and solo. The band picks up, Freddie receiving the crowd beneficently, telling them they’re beautiful.

As the show builds it is obvious that things are gelling more. The previous night Brian had seemed totally out of place, not moving too much, taking solos with the weirdest half blank half possessed stare, talking to himself; cocking ear towards guitar. He was the proverbial stranger in a strange land, one step removed from the plane inhabited by you and me.

Tonight he moves fluidly, the gonzo lead guitarist of a gonzo band. His expressions are just as maniacal, but it only makes him look more demonic. His solo in 'Brighton Rock', an exposition in riffing and echo, is a treat because of his physical response to both music and audience, complete with ham acting. Freddie gets into the same game on 'The Prophet's Song', where he conducts an acapella madrigal with himself. It's a pretty commanding moment.

It’s soon after this that Madison Square seems reasonable. About a minute into 'Stone Cold Crazy' it becomes very obvious that Queen have suddenly Plugged In. Found the metal music machine and Connected. Freddie's movements explode in perfect unison with the music, the lights and surroundings go crazy, and the audience goes berserk.

Freddie asks for requests and receives a roar out of which one can vaguely make 'Liar'. Fred walks along the stage, nodding, agreeing he will do this one and that one while the kids roar on. "I'll tell you what - we'll do them all!"

'Doing Alright' opens slow and portentously. Queen's variation of light and shade is one of the major factors in their popularity, but even so the quiet sections frequently find the audience's mind wandering. One kid starts getting a joint together, totally forgetting it when everything blasts off again; guys talk among themselves, only to instantly leap to their feet, fists flying to the beat.

'Doing Alright' changes into a cha-cha beat, Freddie snapping his fingers, the coolest hipster in town, and then instantly drops into faster-than-light drive - the whole row next to me leaps to their feet as a man, rocking back and forth as Brian roars into a blinding solo.

Two songs later, in 'Seven Seas of Rye', the kids break - very fast - and in five seconds half the audience is a seething mass in front of the stage, climbing on each other in pyramids, sudden openings appearing as a splintering seat sends a few bodies to the floor.

The rest of the show is equally intense, especially for a couple of minutes during 'Liar; where Fred and Brian merge into a tight little triangle with Roger while John stands in front of the bass drum, staring out with his small smile.

Freddie has treated his encores - 'Big Spender' and 'Jailhouse Rock' - differently on successive nights, once appearing in a kimono and in Bristol with rather rude tight white shorts, giving the song title new emphasis. In Cardiff, though, he doesn't bother to change at all. Later it transpired that Brian had twisted his ankle during 'Liar'. While he’s attended to, kids out front pick up chair slivers to keep as mementos.

On the bus back to the hotel Brian sits quietly at the back, chatting with two girls. John sits at the front, as always. Freddie stares out of the window, lost in his own world. Roger bounces around, starts a pillow fight with Brian - which stops as soon as Brian scores a direct hit to the face - then discovers an eight track of 'Sheer Heart Attack', punching it through the channels as he conducts the group. The two hours towards which they have channelled the day's energies are spent.

Ambition

That Queen have become a top attraction through a fair degree of plagiarism is amusing. Stealing is nothing new in rock (or any art for that matter) and mostly Queen use the borrowed material better than the originals. That they would be big I don't think anybody really doubted. All four have immense desire to be successful, and that kind of ambition will keep them slogging until they achieve it.

But there are popular heavy metal bands and there are popular h-m bands. From watching Queen's audience it is apparent that Queen speak for them in a way that bands such as the Who and the Stones and the Beatles spoke (and continue to speak) to their audience. Uriah Heep may be great at what they do, but five years after their demise who'll remember them? Creedence Clearwater Revival demonstrate the same thing - who remembers them? And yet five years ago they were the largest band in the world.

Queen will probably always be remembered, because as their tour is beginning to demonstrate, they have the ability to actualise and encompass the outer limits of their sense of self-importance. Queen and their music, presentation, production - everything about them says that they are more important than any other band you've every heard, and who has there been, so far, who has objected? Certainly not the 150,000 people (plus 20,000 a day) who bought 'Bohemian Rhapsody' in the first 20 days of its release. Certainly not me.

See you at Madison Square Garden.

[text © J. Ingham 2007; photos © Kate Simon]

~ You can see the photos which was mentioned on the article, from the link on the title. ~

[seeraphiic-blog]

♡

PRE - ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP MEME > @akamaestro > accepting !

send a ♡ and i’ll fill this out for our muses !  i’ll bold what i want for their relationship, italic what i could see and strike out what i don’t

FRIENDS.   childhood friends (another cute au winks) /  work friends  /  family friends  /  recently friends  /  turning antagonistic  /  turning into something romantic  /  stable  /  falling apart  /  friendship of need  /  friendship of circumstance  pen - pals or internet friends  /  coworkers  /  partners  /  other . ( more spefically platonic )

ROMANCE.   childhood sweethearts (ahah) /  newly entered  /  soulmates  /  skinny love  /  unrequited from my muses side  /  unrequited from your muses side  /  friends with benefits  /  awkward  /  fading  /  turning  toxic  /  toxic  and  destructive  /  other .

FAMILIAL BOND.   sibling bond  /  older sibling figure to your muse  /  younger sibling figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal  guardian  /  other .

ENEMIES.   dangerous to themselves  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  passionate /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into a sexual tension  /  developing into a romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based of circumstance  /  based of professional matters  /  based of misunderstandings or lies  /  other .

[paradise-creator]

Hi! May I have a romantic heaven box BNHA matchup, please? :)

I'm Flo, a 19 years old bisexual girl.

Appearance: I'm 164 cm(~5'3) tall, with slim, kinda athletic body. I have medium long brown hair and same coloured deer-eyes(probably most attractive part on me), I also wear eyesglasses. I have thin mouth unfortunately. Also, I have a tiny little scar above my right eyebrow(I opened our car's door on my head years ago lolol), it's barely visible. I'm vain and always dress like a lady: so dresses and skirts, I have a classy, elegant or cute style, depends on my daily outfit. I wear light makeup, but not all the time.

Personality: Ambiverted, Virgo with Leo ascendant and Pisces moon. Needless to say, these already represent how confusingly dual my personality is. My behaviour constatntly changes, depending on who I am with: I try to sell myself, being two-faced, wearing a mask(sometimes I appear to be talkative, other times full-stoic), but to people I really do love, I'm quite blunt. Most of the time I'm caring and relatively kind person(but can be an asshole&harsh if tired emotionally). Highly critical, opinionated and rational-thinker, and I usually analyze everything: movies, books, other people, myself. HATE small talk, I always want to talk about some deep shit, sharing my opinions, thougts(only if you ask for it). Enjoy debating. Also, I'm the REALLY clumsy, like clumsy af and I have an invincible talent in getting myself into the most embarrassing, cringe situations. Hate appearing to be weak or crying in front of others(I never do), and generally I can get melancolic and depressed easily. I don't really trust even my loved ones, I always hide my deepest emotional(or whatever) issues, I just can't stand the fact being emotionally vulnerable. Also, I bottle up feelings well. But I can be soft sometimes which suprises people. One of my best friends said, I am suprising, always doing something unpredicted. Additionally, I stress over something all the time. About my humour, it's kinda ironic, dark, morbid, troll-ish; roasting, teasing people 24/7. Don't worry, despite my sometimes serious act, I can be a total dumb idiot. Selfish, vain, lazy,  snobbish hahah. Quite liberal, and I almost never judge people, I mind my own buisness. When I can talk about something I love or just sharing my opinion, I am passionate and be ready for a LONG rambling. Oh, I love alcohol and going out with friends, also I smoke those occassions. Plus, I have god-like hands, everyone told me that I could earn money bc of my massaging skills(I just know by instict how to touch people lol). Oh, and I daydream and zone out a lot.

Relationship: I don't really have a 'type' but I get bored easily: I takes a lot for me to really like in long-term a person, so I fall easier for complex and charismatic ones(but like I said, I can fall for other personalities too!!). I'm a quite difficult person to be with and to love, so I'm suprisingly flexible in a relationship. Only thing I need and without it wouldn't work at all: DEEP CONVOS AND SOME INTELLECT. Also, I have a quite roasting-bullying type humour, so my lover should understand and being able to handle that. Anyways, I'm not much of a PDA person(but I don't mid handholding, short hugs etc. if my partner really want to), and not romantic at all(also cannot flirt hehe), and for a long time I can be bit distant. Love language is words of affirmation&quality time, and if I have to express my feelings I'm best with acts of service. I love cuddling, ppl are suprised when I initiate hugs but tbh I love physical affection. I'm probably more likely the 'friend' lover. I need a lot, lot, lot alone time.

Hobbies/Likes: classical literature, theatre, politics, hiking, sightseeing, mysteries, reading about disappearances(crimes), trying out new things, yoga, running, horse riding, table tennis, listening to music

Sorry if I was too long, then just ignore me, hehe~

↬ ──:.⃗➹ +.*༉‧ᵕ̈°`*↷. ೃ₊✎⸙͎˚- ̗̀✧: ──↫

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┊  ⋆｡   ┊       ┊   ┊    ┊        ┊      ⋆｡˚. ੈ

┊         ┊ ⋆｡  ┊   ┊   ˚✩ ⋆｡˚  ✩

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┊         ┊       ☪︎⋆                                      ⋆✩

┊ ⊹     ┊                     ⋆｡˚. ੈ

✯ ⋆      ┊ .  ˚                                   ⊹

           ˚     ✩

Dream catcher loading...

ɴᴏᴡ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ

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*ﾟ ﾟ･ ✧.｡. *. •.°

┊┊┊┊           

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┊┊☁️　　

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┊┊       

☁️   

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☁️

Hello and Welcome my Starlight!

The Haven box includes:

- Match up

- Sun drop

- Flashes of memory

- Such a loser

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I'd match you up with

Bakugou Katsuki, Dynamight

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Sun drops

- Honestly it took me a LONG time to think who you would match with

- There was Momo, Jiro, Denki, and Iida. I just couldnt pick

- But in the end, I choose my first option, Bakugou

- With Bakugou, one is never bored

- His sarcasm and snarky attitude can prove to be entertaining!

- Though he may not seem like it, Bakugou seem like a type of person that will never do small talk

- He's more of a listener tbh

- At first the relationship may be rough but in the end it all works out

- Bakugo is a complicated character, it's hard to read him and that's what makes it exciting

- He isn't into pda but in private, expect some INTIMATE times

- AGRESSIVE COMFORT

- He finds you so cute and entertaining whenever you tease/Bully other people

- ROAST COMPETITION NO CAP

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Flashes of memory

Bakugou: Oi, Dumass!

Requester: Yes?

Bakugou: I Fucking love you so stop being a Dumbass!

Requester: I love you too and I'M NOT A DUMBASS

Bakugo: Your MY dumb

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

Random guy: *Flirts with requester*

Requester: *Is trying not to kill the man*

Bakugou: TAKE THAT YOU PIECE OF SHIT! DON'T FLIRT WITH MY IDIOT

Kirishima: Ah, here we go again--BAKUBRO DON'T KILL HIM

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

Bakugo: OI, NERD

Requester: *ignores*

Bakugo: OI DUMBASS DONT IGNORE ME!

Requester: *Continues to ignore*

Bakugo: Fine! I'm sorry for gatting you mad

Requester: That wasn't so hard now is it?

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Such a loser

"Oi, I heard from Shittyhair you've been criticizing yourself to harshly again. What are you such a dumbass?" Bakugou yelled as she stomped his way towards his girlfriend. "And what if I am?" She replied as she looked away from her book. The brown haired girl was just peacefully reading in her dorm. Nothing much was really going on, she was just studying. She has the tendency to be harsh on herself. And with classmates like hers, it often happens. And as a Boyfriend, Bakugou thinks it's his responsibility and his problem that if his love is sad or hurt or insecure, he will make sure they are loved.

"Get off of the fucking floor and go to bed. We're gonna cuddle and you can't say no as an answer," Bakugo growled. The girl sighed and placed her book down, it's not like she wants to deny anyway. So they went to lay on the bed. Bakugo pulled her head on his chest and wrapped an arm around her." You idiot! Stop being harsh on yourself, dammit," He said as he placed his head on top of hers. "You are already perfect. That's why you got to shut taht pretty little mouth of yours and accept that you are," He added.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Author's note

Hello there! Sorry for the wait, I was quite tired but here is the Haven box as requested.

[musicallady7]

•HER•

Richard and I strolled by the river Seine admiring the streets of Paris. Everything was so aesthetically picturesque. Like a pretty painting you'd see in a museum. The river below was calm with gentle waves rippling by the water. Birds swooped down to the river with their wings flapping to get home as the sun began to set. The sky was graced with a fine line of peach clouds, the bright orange light slowly beginning to fade away as a midnight blue sky loomed over it.

Bikers pass over the bridge, riding right past us. The cool breeze blew back my hair, conveniently keeping the strands out of my face as it lightly ruffled the flowy skirt of my dress. At nearby restaurants, couples toasted over a glass of red wine, as a  little car with a family of four drove by.

Then there was Richard. He makes this scene perfect.

His face that beamed with warmth looked so radiant in the last light of the sun. A soft smile rested on his lips. I pursed my lips and felt the heat on my cheeks when my mind painted a very sensuous image of how his lips would feel on mine. His ginger red hair that contrasted against the orange lighting of the sunset was combed neatly and looked soft to touch. I was tempted to run a hand through his beautiful red locks. His emerald green eyes matched the military uniform he wore. I was delighted beyond words to hear he came home from the war safely. I was afraid I'd never see him again.

I grasped his hand that held mine a little tighter, afraid he would disappear like a beautiful mirage. He felt like a daydream.

I stared a bit longer than I hoped. He sensed me looking and met my eyes. I immediately averted my gaze somewhere else feeling my cheeks heat up.

This all seemed like a scene in a movie, but that's how it always seemed with Richard. He had quite the talent to make it all feel surreal as if it were coming off the pages of my favorite novels.

We passed by a vintage themed flower shop, where a myriad of beautiful bouquets were displayed outside in painted artsy buckets. The sweet scent of the flowers soothed me and made me exhale deeply. Richard abruptly stopped walking, gazing at the bouquets. I followed his example stopping to appreciate the flowers as well.

"They look pretty." I muttered to myself brushing my fingers lightly over their delicate petals.

"Eira" he called me, getting my attention.

"Yeah?" I asked sending him a small glance before turning back to the flowers.

"Wait here" he replied, as he motioned with his hand to stay where I was. I nodded silently, a bit distracted by the flowers. From my peripheral vision, I see him running inside the store. I wait outside as he asked, just looking around. Soon enough he walks out with a bouquet of white and pastel pink camellias in one hand.

He hands the bouquet to me, placing it in my hand "For you"

I look at him, then back at the flowers, then back up at him a couple times before I could respond. "Th-thanks" I stuttered in a small voice being absolutely flustered.

Like a schoolgirl, I tuck a strand of my platinum blonde hair behind my ear before daring to actually meet his light green eyes that bore into my soul. God, those eyes. They make me sigh dreamily when I think of them.

I still had a hard time comprehending that he actually loves me sometimes. It just feels so unreal still. Then he does all these things, says all these things, he's so sweet and sincere. I don't know if he does it conciously or unconciously but even just by the way he looks at me, like now, I can feel his adoration and love. My heart just melts. How can I not love him back?

•HIM•

After dinner we decided to walk around Paris a bit more. It was later in the night and there were only a few people left in the streets now, including me and Eira. As we walked around, I notice she would glance at the flowers then at me often. Her mind was preoccupied by something.

Suddenly, the rain started to pour down heavily. We both exclaimed in surprise being soaked from head to toe. I grabbed her hand as we ran to take cover under a small outdoor roof of a closed restaurant.

"Well that was an unexpected turn of events" she said with a laugh, looking up at the grey stormy sky that used to be clear and filled with stars earlier.

I grimaced at the sudden change of the weather. "I guess that ruins a nice evening walk"

"Hmm" she hummed thoughtfully, smiling widely afterwards. "It doesnt have to you know" she placed her bouquet at a table making sure it wouldn't fly off. She then took my hand and dragged me out to the empty streets the raindrops showering down on us. She jumped and whooped in excitement, stretching her arms upwards.

"Eira what are you doing? You might catch a cold" I warned her as I quickly took my coat off to wrap around her. She removed  the coat and hung it on my shoulders.

"Richard, if I catch a cold, you'll be there to take care of me anyway. Now come on!" She beckoned me to play in the rain with her.

She started to twirl around and splash on the puddles, laughing out loud. This is the most carefree I've seen her be. She noticed me standing there just watching her  with an amused look and splashed a puddle my way. I made an even bigger splash her way.

She gasped in surprise and laughed mischievously. "Oh, so that's how its gonna be!"

She wouldn't back down, she wanted to get her revenge. She ran to a store and took a bucket that was catching rainwater. She lifted it with ease and emptied its contents on me. I shut my eyes tight as I was drenched from head to toe. She threw her head back in laughter, then bending down and slapping her knee.

"Im going to get you!" I chased after her and she immediately ran to avoid getting caught. It came to a point where we chased each other round and round and round a car. The cycle broke when I jumped over the hood and caught her, wrapping my arms around  her waist. She shrieked in surprise, giggling uncontrollably as I spun her around in the air until she got dizzy.

"Okay okay you win. Put me down now" she gasped breathlessly as she tried to catch her breath.

I placed her back down on the ground. Once she was on her feet, she stumbled slightly and placed her hands on my shoulders to lean on me for support. My hands never left her waist. She looked up at me beaming with her frosty blue eyes. I observe them thoroughly and for the first time, noticed that she had a snowflake pattern in the irises of her eyes. I realize our close proximity and felt a shiver run down my spine at how close we were.

"Dance with me" she whispered.

"There's no music"

She chuckled softly and replied "Close your eyes and listen closely"

I did as she asked. I could hear the rain pitter patterning on the rooftops. The wind rattling the windows. The movement of the river nearby. The sound of our light breathing. Straining my ears, I listened closer. That's when I heard it. Soft music playing a soothing tune from afar. It was faint but it was there.

"I hear it" I told Eira who smiled widely. We began to sway to the tune as she slipped her arms around my neck, pulling me closer. We stared into each other's eyes as we danced focusing only on each other. When we waltzed on the empty street of Paris time seemed to stop. There was no one else in the world but us.

My breath hitched as Eira leaned in closer to sing softly in my ear.

Des nuits d'amour à plus finir

Un grand bonheur, qui prend sa place

Des ennuis des chagrins s'effacent

Heureux, heureux, à en mourir

Her voice soothed me. Like there was no trouble in the world. She sounded as soft and gentle as an angel. She has me enchanted. I am hypnotized by the way the words elegantly flow from her lips. I am trapped by her icy blue eyes. At this moment I knew I was always going to be hers.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras

Qu'il me parle tout bas

Je vois la vie en rose

Il me dit des mots d'amour

Des mots de tous les jours

Et ça m'fait quelque chose

She continued to sing as we made the street our dance floor. Light on our toes, it almost felt like we were waltzing on air, secure in each other's embrace. Holding her close, I basked in her grace and beauty. All I could focus on in the moment was her. How elegant her every move seemed. The way she smiled. How her pale skin looked absolutely radiant in the moonlight.

Il est entré dans mon cœur

Une part de bonheur

Dont je connais la cause

C'est toi pour moi, moi pour toi dans la vie

Tu me l'as dit, m'as juré pour la vie

Et, dès que je t’aperçois

Alors je sens en moi

Mon cœur qui bat

La-la-la, la-la-la

La-la-la, la-la-la

La, la, la-la

She continued to hum gently as I spun her around and lowered her body to dip. I slowly brought her back up, my eyes never leaving hers. She was truly ethereal, and she captivated me in every way. There was no escape. No matter if she felt the same way or not, my heart belonged to her.

We stood in the middle of the dimlit streets of Paris at night. The rain poured down on us in a cold shower. The moon was a subtle silhouette in a puddle nearby. The soft music was masked behind the whistle of the wind.

And there's Eira. She is what makes this scene perfect.

We held our breaths as we stepped closer and closer to each other. She slowly brought her hand up and caressed my cheek. I leaned in to her soft touch. Her eyes flickered to my lips and she stared intently at them. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as she leaned in close enough that our lips brushed against each other.

The next moment, I am taken by surprise when she planted her lips on mine and tugged on my collar to pull me into a soft yet passionate kiss. For a few seconds I froze unable to respond and had a hard time registering it in my head that she was kissing me. She was kissing me.

Eira was about to pull away, not feeling me kissing back but as soon as I noticed that, I responded quickly, gently holding her face and kissing her senseless. Our lips moved perfectly together, in sync. As I closed my eyes, I can feel her smile into the kiss when I ran my fingers through her hair. She wrapped her arms around my torso and pulled me in closer that I can feel her heartbeat on my chest just as rapid as mine.

I cant remember how long I waited for this to happen and now it finally was. Eira couldn't help but giggle, interrupting the kiss. I chuckled fondly at her being adorable. Her eyes met mine once more.

We simply gazed at each other saying nothing yet having a mutual understanding. Nothing needed to be said.

Disclaimer: I dont own the song La Vie En Rose

[seeraphiic-blog]

♡

PRE - ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP MEME > @ultiliar > accepting!

send a ♡ and i’ll fill this out for our muses !  i’ll bold what i want for their relationship, italic what i could see and strike out what i don’t .

FRIENDS.     childhood friends ( that’d be a cute au don’t get me started )  /  work friends  /  family friends  /  recently friends  /  turning antagonistic  /  turning into something romantic  /  stable  /  falling apart  /  friendship of need  /  friendship of circumstance  pen - pals or internet friends  /  coworkers  /  partners  /  other

ROMANCE.   childhood sweethearts  /  newly entered  /  soulmates  /  skinny love  /  unrequited from my muses side  /  unrequited from your muses side  /  friends with benefits  /  awkward  /  fading  /  turning  toxic  /  toxic  and  destructive  /  other .

FAMILIAL BOND.   sibling bond  /  older sibling figure to your muse  /  younger sibling figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  parental figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal  guardian  /  other .

ENEMIES.   dangerous to themselves  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  passionate /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into a sexual tension  /  developing into a romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based of circumstance  /  based of professional matters  /  based of misunderstandings or lies  /  other .

[seeraphiic-blog]

[text] I’m sorry if throwing up in the back of your dad’s car ruined our friendship :( (Kaede!)

super text list! > @museharmcny > accepting ! 

[ to:♪ akamatsu ♪ ] : what

[ to:♪ akamatsu ♪ ] : who’s car did you throw up in???

[ to:♪ akamatsu ♪ ] : akamatsu, i don’t have a dad, who’s car did you throw up in ???????????

[ to:♪ akamatsu ♪ ] : please reply asap !!!!