#(so I totally fucked up the light and composition in there but it’s ok))

[roncheg]

i was rushing to finish ‘The FURS’ pic before that inspiringly disgusting cold weather we’ve been having recently went away)

[rmorde]

Trigun Manga Reaction

Now unto Volume 1 - Chapter 5-6. Doubling it today! I'll start cutting posts like this with "Keep Reading" so it won't be so long.

Awww. So they ARE still working at the cashier in the manga, and they STILL get to bully Vash. Lmao.

Oh... These poor ladies. So, they have to work on TWO jobs to earn their stay on the ship.

Let me just appreciate this hilarious drawing of Vash. He's so mad at how good Meryl and Milly are at their jobs that he looks constipated. ROFL.

This conversation is different from '98. Instead of foreshadowing something about Vash, the ominous line points more towards the Bad Lads Gang's arrival.

Sigh. Another one into the album of Pretzel Vash. Why must Vash be so extra? Why must Nightow always draw him extra. LOOK AT THOSE LEGS!!! Not to mention his crotch in full display.

There he is! Brilliant Dynamites Neon. IMHO, this double page spread it much more impressive and intimidating in the manga. The build up in '98 was good but I think the neon colors from the lights took away the impact of a reveal like this. The simple contrasts of the black, white, and gray looks better.

Oh my. This looks gorgeous. Wow.

Is it just me or does Nightow do a lot of double page art in one chapter? Maybe I'm just imagining it.

Oh yeah. I forgot about this! These poor ladies were sleeping the shelves. Good heavens!

Oh. This is different from '98. Very very different!

WTF?!

WTF?! WTF?! WTF?! WTF?! WTF?! WTF?!

I was about to say I like the aesthetic of this scene in '98, then these panels happened. Holy shit! I take it back! This is so much better! Felt like a jump scare while reading.

Then we suddenly have a goofy Vash! The whiplash in the manga is adapted well to '98. Tristamp is firmly on the dark angst train tho.

A very interesting composition here.

Instead of Brilliant Dynamites being drawn in full detail, only his head, fingers, and collar well. The speed lines expresses the motion of the ship really well WHILE SHOWING AT THE SAME TIME, how Brilliant Dynamites rose from the dark shadows and captured the ship at the palm of his hand. Nice.

Now, on to the next chapter!

It's a really tiny bit from this panel, but the manga Insurance Ladies always seems to "be ready for action" while their '98 counterparts are more of "think before leaping" with their characterizations.

This is just as awful as it was in '98. Ok... maybe not. The anime draws this out a lot more - the advantage of the medium in amping up the horror.

Same case here.

And here.

Gotta say. '98 was extremely faithful with these panels. No re-arrangement of the sequence or change of lines whatsoever. These panels were just that good especially the next one.

This is just as cool if not more - again because of the contrast.

Hmmm. I like how '98 took liberties here and have the kid mouthing off at Vash.

I LOVE MERYL AND MILLY SO MUCH!!!

Again with the whiplashes but on hindsight, this is just fucking painful. Poor Vash.

The way how it seems like Vash is talking to himself, but really it's just to distract and motivate the kid in to saving everyone on the ship.

Finally! I totally forgot his name. Kaite!

LMAO. Here is another whiplash. However, it's for the best. It's a good thing to acknowledge and regret a mistake. However, moving forward to overcome it is very important too - no matter how painful and awful it's going to be.

I love Vash so much.

...

...

...

WAIT A MOMENT! SO, THE EPISODE WITH THE LADY WHO WAS TRYING TO GET REVENGE ON VASH WAS AN ANIME ORIGINAL?!!! IT WAS FILLER?!

[freebooter4ever]

Havent done this in a while so here's a WIP breakdown :) the above sketches are the first thumbnail versus the initial under sketch, versus the final sketch. You can tell from the left that im a total natural at drawing planes. Especially the corsair whose wings go 'flap' up like a bird \o/

The three above are the lighting and flat color. The light is on the left, the flat color is in the center, and on the right is the added shadow. The lights are roughly 3 separate layers (rim, fill, bright), and the shadows are 5 or 6.

When im lighting, I have my main 'folder' set with a toggle option to see the desaturated version, this way i know if im hitting my goals for the luminosity of the composition. In the photos above, the first is the flat colors desaturated. In the center is the flat colors with the light and shadow desaturated. And the far right is the final result.

Ok here's the real key point - the references. Cause i feel like i was mostly just copying in this art LOL. So, you can probably tell that the airplane was taken from that center photo. I must have spent hours trying to figure out how to draw a damn corsair, and eventually i said fuck it and picked the angle i wanted from a grainy photograph of 3 on guadalcanal or somewhere. I basically fitted it into the scene where i wanted and traced it. Then the original inspiration for the whole thing are my two favorite pilot portraits on the right - these were used as recruiting posters and stuff. I really, really love the black and white one especially, and I knew that for my poster I wanted the contrast to be in shadow in the foreground, and then lighten as it receedes in space. Which is why in the desaturated version the propellers are the darkest, and the scene fades to white in the background. I wanted it to look like eugene was emerging from the light kinda like the portrait. And then, for color you can see I used the cheesy '70's tint from South Pacific, lots and LOTS of goldenrod. I wanted it to feel warm, and sunny, and beach-like, and as far from the reality of the pacific theater as possible. This is an optimistic version of eugene (i think pilots really had to be), probably during the golden hour of sunset after a long day of flying. LASTLY but definitely not least lmao, are the joe references. Poor joe, these ones aren't the most flattering but I was using them purely for how the light hits his face and that bright carrot top hair. Not pictured are the 16 or so gifs I picked out in particular of his face in as similar an angle as i could get it. I think i found a few exact matches - i cant rememeber cause i deleted them all once i was done with it.

[brokentoothmarch]

20 21 and 22 ^_^

20. a piece from this year that you're really proud of

THIS ONE PROBS There are def others i would Pick out bcs it was Rly Difficult to Choose jst "One" im Proudest of bcs i Metric them on Totally diff Scales but Like.....This ones by Far the "Flashiest" or Most "Colorful" tho its Not the Reason i Picked it fr Here. Was in a Lot of Agony over the Concept im Trying to Depict here (Ironically, abt Art itself) nd i Rly liked how it Came out an Artists Best Goal is fr their Own Creation to Come to Life nd Murder Them nd Completely Supersede their Own Self (Thumbs up) (Or smthn like it)

21. something you would like to improve on

DEFINITELY COMPOSITIONS Jst in general using "Props" in the Img or Actively Thinking abt like Themes or Motifs or Symbolism i could Place in there....Not to Say Necessarily i was "Bad" at it before bt like i Feel Making an Actual Concentrated nd Conscious Effort to Improve on it has Changed my Art fr the better i feel...

like Characters who are jst Posing or Standing in a Simple Art is Fine bt im Moreso Thinking now abt stuff like "If theyre posed this way, what does this say abt them" "Is Smthn forcing them to pose this way or otherwise" etc. etc. nd Gnna be Real ive Always been a Sucker fr imagery nd Patterns in Jst abt Evrythn. Again i Like to think im getting better at it slowly :::)

22. what inspires you

Ok this is Gnna sound So fucking like....Up the ass self centered am AWARE but like fr th Most part its my Own Feelings or Things in my life or Concepts / Stuff etc. tht are Vry Special to me in a Personal way. i Honestly end up feeling like theres No Way to place Myself Out of my art bcs So Much of it Ends up Getting in there Whether i Like it or not its like Impossible Not to (like a Faucet tht Wont stop leaking) nd ive Felt Sm ways abt it before (esp when smthn includes so Much of yrself, if you Hate Your Self then what then yknow. Wondering smtimes if this sorta thing is "soulless") bt i Suppose i Approach it frm a Similar Angle as in Writing Poetry...

i could Light up a Statue frm Different Angles nd the Shadows could All look different bt im Not Revealing wht the Statue actually Looks like. nd Wondering abt wht the Statue Is, i feel, is missing the point bcs its what you gain frm the imprints left behind from it.....nd i Guess this is Speaking a Lot more Generally abt the Stories tht i Write nd etc. nd this question was abt Art so Oops. i Draw like im Trying to Stem a Wound tht wont stop bleeding honestly its Almost Always a Feeling tht i Feel i Need to express, Unintelligable if put into words. So theres that...

Also i Hv Fucked up dreams nd Smtimes they Give me Good Ideas. Dreams jst in general are important to me nd One Day id Like to Capture sm Specific Feelings the More Memorable ones hv given me, smhow

SORRY if this sounds Pretentious as fuck Yknow how it is w spaghetti i Wish i could hv smthn to Append Onto this post but ive Got like Nothing except this Little Pixel i made in my first attempt at Aseprite so take it

[helliontherapscallion]

Headcanons for SBI Sibling!Parrot Hybrid!Reader

(A/N): ope, went a little overboard with this one (also it’s not proofread, so sorry about any mistakes)

You have wings on your back (the feather pattern depends on what parrot floats your boat)

If you’re a Scarlet Macaw, Blue-and-Yellow Macaw, or Chestnut-Fronted Macaw, then you have black lines on your cheeks and heavy black lines around your eyes (think Hawks from bnha but less pointy)

If you are a Hyacinth Macaw, you have yellow markings around your eyes and mouth

If you’re a cockatiel, you have a killer mohawk/hair that is always very pointy and orange circles on your cheeks (how cute!)

I have a feeling that your hair is incredibly soft

Very sensitive wings

I feel like your teeth would be sharp and your nails would normally be fast-growing, long, and sharp

You tilt your head like impossibly far when you’re confused or trying to hear something better

Like your ear would almost be touching your shoulder

The head movements are very jerky and kinda just happen on their own when you hear something so you would have a lot of neck pain : (

You’re allergic to chocolate : (

I feel like people would underestimate you greatly and think you’re nothing except the ditzy comedic relief

Parrots are actually very intelligent

It bums you out to hear people say things like that behind your back when they think you can’t hear, but you try to not let them get to you

You give the best cuddles and are very affectionate with the people you’re close to (you’re also very cautious of strangers)

You’re also very in tune with the emotions of the people around you

You see someone sad? Head nuzzles and wing hugs

You see someone angry? You deescalate the situation the best you can and make sure they’re ok afterwards

You can dilate and contract your pupils rapidly at will

You may or may not stare at people doing it until they notice you staring or until they get creeped out

You fuck hard with any type of seed, nut, or fruit

When you get excited, it’s literally so cute??

Like you do everything parrots do

Little happy pitter patters with your feet, flutter your wings, your pupils contract and dilate rapidly, you make a ton of mob sounds

You’re easily excitable, hyper, and happy most of the time

It makes everyone happy to see you so excited so they would often go out of their way to get you things that make you happy

“Hey (y/n) I have some extra melon seeds if you want em!”

*Pupils contract and dilate rapidly*

You are loud

Like very loud

And very talkative

Like everyone knows where you are at all times

If you’re quiet and they know you’re around, either something is very wrong or they’re about to get pranked

God forbid you start to scream, your scream is loud enough to deafen someone for a brief amount of time and would leave everyone’s ears ringing for days on end

The mere mention of yours and Tommy's names together in one sentence is enough to give Philza a headache (someone give this poor man a couple of advils and a long vacation)

You two are literal demons when you’re together

Very chaotic relationship

You both like to fuck with people by sneaking up behind them

You would make mob sounds and Tommy would jump them before you two made a break for it

You and Tommy almost got killed by Techno a few times, but in your opinion the look on his face was 100% worth it every time

I feel like you would cart him up and down from the towers he builds

He could relate to being stereotyped as the stupid loud one, so he recognizes right away when you’re sad about it and will try to cheer you up

His main go to is the jukebox

Oh my god if he plays his jukebox around you, you go full send with your dancing

*AGGRESSIVE HEADBANGING*

He would laugh at your awful dancing, but he would join you eventually

Cat and Mellohi go hard

Speaking of music, Wilbur uses you as a walking soundboard

He needs a sound sample? You better prepare for spending most of your day recreating the sound

He needs back up vocals? You spend most of your day listening to his voice and other singers so you could replicate it

You don’t want to disappoint him so you try extra hard to appease his picky music composition

You kinda stress yourself out over it sometimes

When he notices (which he will, he’s very perceptive), he immediately calls it a day and has some sibling bonding time

You both bond over liking to eat strange things

Amazon macaws like to lick clay deposits on riverbanks so you like to have some on you at all times to lick when you get stressed

Wilbur carries some in a bag in his pocket and you carry a bag of sand 

Whenever one of you notices the other has a rough day, you give each other your respective stuff

You have to be sneaky with it though, Philza always takes away nonedible stuff from his children if he sees them trying to eat it (he has good intentions tho)

It always looks like a drug deal 

With Techno, I feel like he would find you incredibly annoying at first with how loud you are

He would actually start to hate you when you started to sneak up behind him 

It got to the point to whenever he would hear your voice he would get irrationally mad and have to leave the house for a few hours

He, like everyone outside your family, would think you were useless and incredibly stupid

That was until he passed Tommy’s room one day and overheard you crying and telling Tommy about your insecurities

He would spend the next few days ignoring you bc he felt bad

He would spend those days contemplating on why he treated you like he did

Coming to the realization that you were likely trying to get closer to him and you were just being yourself, making him feel like the biggest piece of shit

He totally had no idea how to confront you about this, so naturally he went to Philza (that man was literally so happy that his children were gonna start to get along)

He would spend the day gathering golden melons because he found out that you’d never tried golden melons before from Philza

When he approached you one day with an apology and some golden melons, you were suspicious at first

He hated you, so why would he get you these things if he didn’t need anything from you?

Quickly finding that his apology is genuine and he felt incredibly bad for treating you like that over the years

You picked up on his guilt pretty quickly and made quick work to reassure him

He would take you on short trips and would soon find that you’re very useful in detecting mobs and deterring creepers with cat noises

He would never admit it, but he loves it when you would scare Tommy or Wilbur, thinking it’s hilarious 

You also found out that carrying a seven and a half foot tall piglin hybrid was incredibly difficult to do, especially when flying

You two managed to get only about ten feet above the ground before your wings gave out under the strain and you fell on him

“(Y/n) has earned the achievement ‘When Pigs Fly’” flashed on everyone’s comm tablets that day

That wasn’t fun trying to explain to Philza

Philza would be ecstatic to have someone to fly with that he didn’t have to carry

He would take you on flights when you had too much energy 

Sometimes racing each other and competing to do tricks midair (which sometimes you both rope your brothers into judging)

Late night flights when you need to get your mind off from something

Watching the sunrise together in silence for once

Bonding over being able to see ultraviolet light when everyone else couldn’t

You always give him the shiny things you come across and he gives you your favorite snacks

He always fusses over your wings, sometimes preening them for you

Helping each other through molts

Matches your excitement sometimes when you’re really happy

You feel bad whenever you hear stories of how difficult you were as a baby

He’s quick to reassure you that raising you was worth it and you turned out to be a great person

But he wouldn’t be lying when he said you were a difficult infant

Your terrible twos stage? His literal hell

Philza swears he can still hear ringing from whenever you would throw tantrums as a toddler, even years after you left your toddler age

He also still has some scars from when you went through your biting phase (teething was awful for you, his poor baby)

But he’s happy he was the one that raised you, he genuinely enjoys your presence

If you’re in a really affectionate mood he is more than willing to let you cuddle up to him while he reads a book or something

WING HUGS WING HUGS WING HUGS WIN-

When he’s had a long day and is stressed out, you immediately pick up on that and do everything in your power to make sure your brothers are quiet and behaved, try to find out what made him so stressed, and sometimes go out of your way to take care of it for him

You try to be the one taking care of him for once as much because he’s taken care of you so well throughout the years

He can tell if you’re overwhelmed or upset just with one glance at your ruffled feathers and your rapidly dilating and contracting pupils

Immediately pulling you out of the situation and letting you talk it out

Whenever he finds you sad about your insecurities, he points out every part of your personality that he loves

That’s before he hunts down the person that made you feel like this (he really lives up to his title of ‘The Angel of Death’)

Overall, you wouldn’t trade your family for the world

[mirrorforevers]

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

-

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

-

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

-

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

-

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

-

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

-

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

-

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

-

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

[daily-rubbersoul-redux]

nightmares.

[thoughts/''''explanation'''' beneath the cut]

yes i know it's bad i suck at drawing from like most angles ok shut up

so uh

yeah basically

i kinda just had the thought 'mel has a nightmare where he dies and then freaks tf out and sumi comforts him' and went mhm yep time to make a comic without thinking twice.

the uh. weird black blob thing in mel's dream is pretty much just an abstract representation of his fears bc dreams are weird and i couldn't think of something better.

also bc im shit at backgrounds, he's sleeping on a small mattress on the floor in sumi's room, don't worry about it.

why does he put on his glasses? well you'd be scared if you couldn't see after having a dream where you fucking died too, wouldnt you?

also in panel 4 of page three he's looking at his hand bc it won't stop shaking

and then he kinda just. curls up into a ball kinda. sits there crying

and then sumi wakes up and is like 'dude you good' and he just clings onto her for dear life so she hugs him the end

now time for a preemptive faq:

-shook why do the first 2 pages like have fucking horrible posing and composition?

because dreams are weird and like that, not because i fucking suck at art haha totally not that one (yes it is im just bad ok shut up)

-shook why is there no text except for the last panel of page 5?

idk i thought it would be kinda cool

-shook why did you only put lighting on one panel?

because i wanted it to look a certain way but didnt feel like doing it again after that

-shook why not just color it normally?

i thought it would be easier this way. thought.

-shook why does the first panel of page 5 look so shitty?

comedic effect. nothing else. i didn't get lazy shut up-

-shook stop making mel sad

no.

-shook what does the last page mean?

mel is sumi's son now, sorry i don't make the rules.

ok imma go die now i probably forgot like 30 things i wanted to put here, like i was gonna get real existential, but uhhh i dont care enough to try and remember so bye-

[hyunsracha]

for your entertainment — han jisung

word count: 2.3k

summary: jisung panics when he sees cute people. he also stares at them.

so you work at an entertainment store right

where ppl can buy like uhhh movies and albums n merch n stuff!!

u like ur job.. it’s one of the least popular stores in the mall so u spend most of ur time organizing and reorganizing with one earbud in listening to music

u have to wear a boring grey t-shirt as uniform so u spice things up by making the rest of u look good

everyone else does the same thing i mean … ur manager lia wears purple eyeshadow ok

ur other manager chris doesn’t even try to look good! and it’s so fucking annoying u wanna knock his fuck 24/7

random girl: hehe<3 can i have ur number?

chris: only if u sign up for our rewards program<3

u, angry bc u haven’t sold any rewards programs in a week: >:(

ur other two co-workers are hyunjin and jeongin.

hyunjin has a pretty popular youtube dancer cover channel, but for Copyright Reasons it’s not paying the bills

and jeongin is a senior in high school and this is his first job and u just wanna pinch his little cheeks every time u work together

“y/n i swear to god i’m gonna punch u and get fired rn stop POKING MY CHEEKS-”

“he’s just a little baby…*to passing customer* LOOK AT THE BABY!”

“>:(((“

so it’s a tuesday night.

tuesday nights are the fucking best (worst if u love talking to ppl) bc u’ll get like … 2 customers in 4 hours?

it’s 8pm and the mall closes at 9

usually u start vacuuming at 8:30 but at like 7:50 chris was like “GET THE FUCKING VACUUM WE’RE CLOSING RN !!”

jeongin: u do it.

u: no u do it bitch.

jeongin: *sticks out his fist*

u sigh and do rock paper scissors like the baby wants.

and u lose

u fucking lose

and jeongin just cackles, sitting down on the stool behind the registers

so u trudge to the back room and the vacuum, grumbling about how ur older so jeongin should be doing this!!

but it’s fine!

so you’re vacuuming right.

and in storms Han Jisung

yes han jisung is the kinda dude to come to the mall right before closing and go on a shopping spree

he’s got his best friend lee minho in tow, who does Not look happy to be here.

“come on minho!! i need to get season 4 of naruto to finish my collection!!” jisung whines, pulling on his friend’s arm as he stands on his tiptoes to look for the anime section.

“can you keep your voice down?? i have an image, yanno.”

“minho you’re literally here to buy a kelly clarkson album.”

minho grumbles and waddles off towards the cds, where you are...vacuuming...loudly

and minho’s like -____- why are u so fucking loud

like u don’t MEAN to be loud?? but it’s a VACUUM??

so minho’s looking for his beloved kelly clarkson album right,

and jisung comes around the corner, season 4 of naruto in tow.

and he sees you

and nearly drops it

jisung gets crushes very easily okay..

he can’t help it! the boy loves to love (◕‿◕)♡

and u look so cute in ur lil t-shirt!! like a little retail angel!!

so he grabs minho’s arm and DRAGS HIM TO where the movies are

and he panics!

“THEY’RE SO CUTE AAH I WANNA GIVE THEM A BIG FAT HUG-”

“do you mean the person vacuuming -__- loud as hell”

“minho it’s a vacuum.”

so you stop vacuuming and return the vacuum to the back room (and wash ur hands in the bathroom bc the soap smells like lemons and sunshine) and come back to the floor

u have a ton of time until closing so u just. sit.. and start reorganizing the heavy metal albums.

after a while u feel … weird … like ur being watched

so u turn around and. there they are. staring like (・_・)

and ur like “HELLO?!?!” but u don’t say anything

u just give them a Customer Service Smile and a, “can i help you with anything?”

jisung just giggles and shakes his head and minho keeps fuckign staring

mr lee i will knock ur fuck is that what u want

so u shrug and go back to ur sorting, keeping an eye on the CREEPS in ur store.

at 8:55 chris is like “jeongin go close the gate.” n jeongin’s like “FUCK YEAH” bc he gets to hold a big stick

so he’s walking towards the front of the store with his Big Stick when he sees jisung and minho

“what da hell are y’all doing?” is what he thinks but he says, “(: hi! the store closes in five minutes and i’m about to close the front gate. i’m so sorry, but you have to leave now! :)”

so jisung pouts and minho rolls his eyes, dragging his friend out of the store.

jeongin uses his Big Stick to pull the gate down and he locks it at about mid calf level so y’all can get out.

so that night, u go home and do some homework, but ur still thinking about those weirdos.

but! u’ll probably never see them again!

right?

Wrong.

u see them the next day!

they’re still watching u, but they’re closer

and minho looks more irritated.

towards the end of the night, ur Upset and Confused so u go over to them like o_o. What do u want.

and jisung goes JISJSJHTIE

and minho goes, “jisung thinks you’re cute.”

u start to blush, but jisung squeaks, “NO ahah- uh- he likes to talk in third person! he’s jisung ahaha.”

“my name is not jisung i would Hate to be named jisung.”

“WH- why? there’s a soccer player named jisung. and an idol! multiple idols!”

“yeah the guy in nct is 2 years younger than you and has the same name. and what have You done successfully? Quickly-”

“HEY-”

the two boys in front of u bicker while u start zoning out at the wall behind them.

you knew that the boy with blue hair was jisung, but you didn’t know the one with brown hair. and you assumed that they were friends, judging by the .. bonding activity that is staring at an employee.

and jisung wasn’t …. ugly

like he was really … really cute

but staring at people is fucking weird, jisung!!

when u finally snap out of it, u huff, “okay losers. we are closing soon. so you have to leave. but you’re welcome to come back tomorrow if you’re going to actually talk to me and not just stand in the corner! okay?”

the boys nod, grinning at each other before dashing out of the store.

so, like u said, they’re back the next day!

and this time they actually talk to u! Wow!

you’re sitting on the floor in the back of the store, organizing the funko pops for the 70th time when you feel A Presence.

two, actually.

it’s the two boys, sitting on either side of u.

“hi,” jisung says, playing with his fingers in his lap.

“you’re jisung, right? the cute one..” u reply absentmindedly

u hear a choking sound and then Silence

miss jisung ? miss JISUNG ?

he’s alive, but jfc BARELY

u just called him the CUTE ONE?!?!?

paying no mind, u turn to the boy on ur right, “and you are?”

“lee minho. don’t worry, you won’t forget it.”

“was that supposed to be a pick-up line?”

“did it work?”

“no.”

“HAH!” and jisung’s alive again.

u spend the rest of ur shift talking to the boys, telling them all about ur life while they told u about theirs

u learned that minho was a dancer just like hyunjin! but he went to the nearby university to study.

and that’s where he met jisung, who’s a music composition major

...and a soundcloud rapper…

u could help the laugh that pushed past ur lips at his words

“WHY ARE U LAUGHING.”

“a SoundCloud rapper. really, sung?”

“IT’S COOL ヾ(`ヘ´)ﾉﾞ”

u couldn’t imagine him as a ‘cool’ rapper dude

he just looked so fluffy :(

at 8:55, the boys got kicked out by jeongin again, but they stood outside the gate, waiting for u

“What do y’all want.”

“i wanna walk u to ur car:(“

“i don’t.”

“ok minho then Leave.”

“NO DON’T he’s my ride don’t say that to him.”

it’s dark outside, and a warm wind blows through ur hair.

it’s late spring, with summer (and finals) fast approaching.

“walking me to my car...what a gentleman…”

“yeah that’s why you should totally go on a date with me haha.”

“what?”

“what?”

“you said-”

“i didn’t say anything.”

minho sighs from behind u, not understanding why his best friend has to be so damn stupid all the time

u lean on ur driver’s side door, not making eye contact with the boy

u didn’t know how to say bye..no one’s ever walked u to ur car before??

“so…” jisung speaks for u, “can i … have your number? so i don’t show up at the store when you’re not working.” he holds his phone out for u to take, a sheepish smile barely visible due to the lights in the parking lot.

“oh! totally.” you take the phone from him, jolting when ur fingers graze his. u set ur contact as ‘the person sungie likes to stare at~” before giving it back to him.

he chuckles at the name, and u feel something inside of u go DOKIDOKI

when he says goodnight and walks away, minho giving u a quick nod, u lock urself in ur car so u can PANIC

u barely know this boy. he’s a weirdo. why is ur heart going dokidoki

heart STOP IT!!

it only gets worse when u hear the text notification sound from ur phone:

[ unknown ]: do u work tmrw? (^_−)☆ i already miss u

…. frick …. he texts cute

dammit jisung why couldn’t u send the laughing emoji

[ y/n ]: i do ! ^.^ i’ll see u then?

[ creeper ]: wouldn’t miss it~ (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ goodnight!

u nearly slam ur head on the steering wheel.

true to his word, jisung was back the next day

and the day after that

and the day after that

the day after That, u were off, so u didn’t see him

but u guys texted nearly all day!

jisung was just … really easy to talk to :/

and really funny :/

and every time he giggled u just wanted to cry a little bit :/

and u feel like a CLOWN bc u have a CRUSH on this dude that hangs out with u at WORK

one day, ur at work, and jisung isn't there:((

u feel a little dumb being upset about it, but u were starting to get used to the little guy

“somebody looks like a sad clown.”

“hyunjin~” u whine.

“oh no. that’s the boy problems whine. uhhh suddenly i’m on break!” he tries to stand and walk away, but u pull him back down next to u.

see, u and hyunjin were pretty close.

u two are the same age and watch the same dramas.

and ur both super dramatic

which is WHY when u got ur heart broken by lee donghyuck a few months after u started working there, he was ur shoulder to cry - and complain - on.

“stop :( there was this boy who came in every day and talked to me and he’s super cute but he’s not here today and i miss him :(“

hyunjin just …. stared at u like …. wtf are u talking about

“do you have his number?”

“yes.”

“have you texted him to ask why he’s not here today?”

“...no…”

“(；￣Д￣) Y/N U FUCKIN FOOL!!! U ABSOLUTE IMBECILE!!!”

“STOP YELLING AT ME HWANG HYUNJIN I’LL DESTROY EVERYTHING YOU LOVE!”

a customer standing in front of the register, trying to buy some headphones: uh.. should i go?

u make hyunjin deal with the customer while u sneak out ur phone to text jisung

[ y/n ]: where are u . no one is here 2 annoy me today (except hyunjin but he doesn’t count)

u wait 5 minutes … no reply

10 minutes … no reply

an hour … no reply

“WAAAAA ｡･ﾟﾟ*(>д<)*ﾟﾟ･｡ HYUNJIN ｡･ﾟﾟ*(>д<)*ﾟﾟ･｡”

hyunjin, handing a poor lady her receipt: jesus fucking christ

ur sulking as u leave the store that night

u still feel dumb, but now ur too Sad to feel dumb

u press the lock button on ur car keys so the lights would come on and the horn would sound, telling u where ur car was

“OH FUCK- jesus...stupid car…”

….that’s not what ur car horn sounds like.

u slowly approach, holding ur keys in between ur fingers

ur not afraid to stab a bitch with ur mail key and that’s on wolverine.

u breathe a sigh of Relief when u see it’s just jisung leaning against ur door

wait

jisung

“jisung?” u voice ur thoughts

his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, “yeah..hi..sorry i didn’t text you back. i nearly backed out of doing this and i didn’t wanna look stupid.”

“you look stupid all the time.”

“jeez, thanks.”

u cross ur arms, stepping closer to the boy, “back out of what?”

“well i uh- do you remember how minho said i think you’re cute on the first day we talked?”

you nod.

“well...that hasn’t changed. i think you’re cute...really cute, actually.”

you blush again, just like the first time, “what does me being cute have to do with you standing in front of my car?”

“well, i don’t have a car, so i’m hoping...you can drive when we go on our first date?”

your heart nearly stops, but you start to smile.

“han jisung, are you asking me out?”

“are you saying yes?”

“yes.”

“then yeah. i am.”

your smile only gets wider as you close the gap between you two, wrapping your arms around his middle. he pats your head, a chuckle vibrating under your ear.

“also i need a ride home. minho dropped me off.”

“*sigh* jisung…”

[spidercakes]

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Omega!Peter and Alpha!Tony.

Warning: Peter is 17 (Tony is a year and a half older), there’s some mentions of abuse (not with the main pairing), feminization (Peter).

*

Peter has to take like twenty pictures before he arranges himself just right in the frame and sends it off to Quentin. When his phone buzzes he gets a noncommittal niceand Peter stares at the phone for a few moments because he’s kind of pissed, actually. When Quent sends him a picture he’s supposed to fawn all over him but he gets nicewith no punctuation? Really? Ugh, he’s so damn sick of Quentin being likethat because he’s suresomeone else would appreciate his efforts and he’s sotempted to test it too because his skirt is cuteand the picture is fucking artful, okay? He even made sure the lighting was nice. Fucking Quent.

He stews on that for a long time, texting the group chat back and forth about it while he does math homework, ugh. Ned, probably because he kind of hates Quentin, tells him he should do it and when he asks for MJ’s advice he’s pretty sure she encourages him because she loves drama so long as it doesn’t involve her. Liz, as always, is the voice of reason and tells him he’s just frustrated, which is truebut also. He just wants to know, for scienceas MJ helpfully put it, if someone else would actually give him a half way decent response. Not that that’s hard when your competition is nice, no punctuation.

Its not like he’s really considering it much when he scrolls through his contact list on account of everyone he knows knows Quentin, obviously, and they’d obviously pass the information of him sending out saucy pictures to other people. And then Peter would have to deal with thatlike Quentin doesn’t flirt with every omega that moves not that Peter can do that, godforbid. Ned told him once that if he wanted a knot that badly he should get a dildo because they don’t talk back and Peter’s tempted some days because he’s sure a dildo would take less work to care for than Quentin’s big ass ego.

So maybe that’s why he lingers over Tony Stark’s name and he can’t even remember howhe got his number but its not like he goes to their high school anymore and even when he did he hated Quent so its not like he’d sayanything if Peter sent him something. For science, just to see if Quent really isa jackass or maybe he’s just overreacting.

For S C I E N C EMJ texts and he really shouldn’t.

You should just dump himNed adds in the group chat.

Omg guys stop it! Just talk to him like a normal human!Liz says, remaining the voice of reason.

Talking is for people, not QuentinsMJ sends back and Peter snickers.

Send me saucy pics, will rate them out of tenNed says with three laughing emojis.

We all already vet them the fuck are you on about that pic was cute as fuckMJ says.

Hey wait, is that my skirt? Liz says and Peter looks down. Well, maybe.

Nohe lies.

Omg it is give that back I’ve been looking for it everywhere!

You didn’t notice until we after we vetted the pic I say Peter should be allowed to keep itNed says.

You’re cute as hell Liz but it does look better on PeterMJ adds.

You guys suck. Don’t send that pic to anyone!Liz says.

Peter nods, knowing she’s right when his phone buzzes again and its Quent and the asshole, the asshole!

What, is that it? Gunna send more or are you back to being a tease?

A tease? “Oh fuck you Quentin,” Peter snaps, finding Tony’s number in his phone again and sending him the damn picture. He knows he’s being stupid but it makes him feel better so… that’s not an excuse but whatever, he doesn’t care.

Tony’s response doesn’t take long.

Um.

Think that was meant for someone else.

I deleted it obvs.

Because like

I’m not a piece of shit

The texts come in quick succession because apparently Tony doesn’t have a thing about double texting, Peter guesses. He considers the response for a moment before he sends something back.

And if I said that was meant for you?

Because that’s what he wanted to know, right? Except sending out racy pictures to people who didn’t ask for them is kind of creepy and now Peter feels bad because it’s not like he enjoys it when it happens to him. Mostly because the pictures always look like fucking prisonsecurityphotos and whether or not he asked for them pictures with poor composition are a total turn off. His phone buzzes, then buzzes again right away and Peter figures either MJ dropped something horrible like the Grinch sucking a dick into the group chat again or its Tony. He sighs, picking it up and resigning himself to his fate either way when he notices its Tony.

AFHPWURE

Ok

What the fuck did I do to get this luck lmao

This is like

The best gift when studying

That skirt is so much more interesting than physics

Kinda mad I deleted it now

Peter smiles a little and sends it back just to be polite like that. Tony keeps up the trend of responding quickly, phone buzzing as his messages come in.

Bro

I don’t want to look the gift horse in the mouth

But also what prompted this

But also also I kind of don’t care

I am 100% on board with whatever this is

Like probably even 200%

Or more

Point is you’re the best

And also like really cute

I don’t remember you being that cute

Peter reads all the messages and laughs, shaking his head because apparently Tony says whatever is on his mind but, for science, he figures maybe he’ll send him a little something else too. It’s always good to try and repeat your results, right? So he abandons his desk and homework in favor of his bed, carefully laying himself down on his stomach as he hikes the skirt a little higher around his waist so the pleats sit justlong enough to cover his ass as he opens the camera on his phone. He watches the mirror in the background as he lifts his legs, crossing them at the ankles and spreading his legs just a bit. Its more than a little suggestive, if Tony takes the time to look in the background of the picture anyway. From the front is a pretty cute picture with half his face in the frame while the rest of it is taken up with an artful shot of his body. With the skirt hiked up like that its still pretty risqué but the devil is in the details.

He sends it off to Tony, for science reasons purely or at least that’s what he tells himself anyway. If he’s honest he kind of likes the attention because he missesit and it always feels like he has to jump through hoops to get Quent to pay him any attention at all. Tony doesn’t seem to need as much plying.

Omg

I’m so torn

On one hand, physics exam. Worth 40% of my grade

On the other hand

He sends back a close up of Peter’s picture with a red circle drawn around the mirror and a lot of exclamation points.

You see my dilemma, surely

And like

I’m good at physics I can probably pass without studying

So, science concluded, Quentin is a fucking dick and Peter bites his lip, unsure what to do here so he drops a message into the group chat fully anticipating Liz judging him so he’s a little surprised when she answers first and tells him to just dump Quent. MJ and Ned respond ‘fuck him’ at the same time and Peter considers his options for a moment.

*

Its not like Peter meantfor this to happen but Quent was being a total assholeagain and Peter has been told he’s got the patience of a saint but even he has his limits. So he had dumped Quent maybe a little too publically considering he told him to stuff it in the middle of the cafeteria before storming off and Tony happened to send one of his adorably stupid jokes at the right time. But still, its not like he meantfor it to lead to him in the back seat of Tony’s car with his arms wrapped around Tony’s neck as Tony guides his hips the way he wants. “Yes, baby, just like that,” Tony tells him as he moves, “feel so good,” he murmurs as he moves one of his hands up Peter’s bare back.

He moans at the praise, pressing his forehead to Tony’s. “Yes,” he murmurs into Tony’s mouth as he kisses him, “touch me.” Tony does, hands roaming up his back and down again, brushing over his hips, up his sides and down his chest. Tony touches him like he can’t get enough and Peter feels the sharp flush of arousal at Tony’s hands explore his body.

Tony lets out a soft groan, “so wet for me baby,” Tony tells him, shifting his hips up into Peter’s.

Peter nods, breathless. “Like the way you touch me,” he murmurs into Tony’s mouth as he kisses him. Tony reaches up and brushes his fingers across Peter’s cheek and he can feelthe way he produces more slick in response.

“What, never had anyone take care of you?” Tony murmurs, eyes soft and caring as he runs his fingers through Peter’s hair. He shakes his head because Quent wasn’t like… badat sex, actually he was pretty good at it, but Peter kind of always felt like a means to an end rather than an actual participant. Tony wasn’t like that from the start. Peter knew as soon as Tony saw him, conveniently wearing that skirt he’d first sent pictures of himself in, he’d wanted to fuck him but he let Peter make the first move and made sure everything he did was okay. Peter wouldn’t have thought he’d like that much, he’s always had a bit of a thingfor bad boys but its not like Tony doesn’t look the part. He just doesn’t act it and Peter finds that surprisingly attractive.

“Up, baby,” Tony murmurs, patting the underside of Peter’s ass and he frowns.

“What? No,” he says, full well knowing that he sounds whiney and Tony laughs.

“Shh, baby s’not like that. Lay back, let me take care of you,” he murmurs, leaning forward and kissing Peter softly as he guides him off. Peter still makes a noise at the loss but lets Tony lay him out over the seat of the car. It’s awkward, in the cramped space, but Tony makes do as he settles between Peter’s legs. His hand curls around the outside of Peter’s right knee, thumb softly caressing the skin there as he looks down at Peter. “Fuckyou are gorgeous,” he murmurs, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the inside of his thigh.

He sucks in a breath and Tony smiles at him as he kisses him again, carefully sucking at the soft skin of his inner thigh. Peter’s breath hitches again as Tony moves a little lower, kisses soft and sweet as he moves his way down. His legs fall further apart mostly of their own accord, a silent invitation for Tony to keep going. “Tony,” Peter all but whines as Tony takes his time.

Tony lifts his head from where he’s nipping at the inside of Peter thigh, “yeah, baby?” he murmurs.

Peter makes a soft, frustrated noise. “Give me more than that,” he tells Tony.

Tony grins, giving the inside of Peter’s though one last kiss before he shifts his position. “Hm, guess I should give you a little something for wearing this, shouldn’t I?” he asks, toying with the edge of Peter’s skirt.

“Wanted you to want me,” Peter tells him and Tony laughs.

“Mission fucking accomplished. But you could have done that wearing a paper bag,” Tony says.

Peter lets out a breathless laugh, “flatterer,” he accuses lightly.

Tony shakes his head though, “mm, I’m not much of a flatterer unless it’s earned. And fuck, its like you’re made just for me you’re so perfect,” Tony tells him as he lifts his skirt and licks up the length of his dick, root to tip and Peter gasps, one hand flying into Tony’s hair as he takes Peter into his mouth.

“Tony!” Peter gasps, grip on his hair tightening and Tony moans around him. Peter does his best to keep his hips from jerking involuntarily as Tony works him over. He’s clearly practiced, skilled with the use of his tongue and Peter moans loudly, back arching as Tony’s head bobs over him.

His breath comes faster as he moans and this mostly only seems to encourage Tony, who enthusiastically throws himself into it and Peter finds that almost as hot as the blowjob. Quent didn’t really go down on him much, always complained that he was too loud and squirmed too much to make it worth his time but Tony doesn’t seem to have a problem with it. Judging from the way his fingers flex on Peter’s thighs and the way he moans when Peter does he’d say Tony actively likes his squirminess so Quent can suck it. Figuratively seems how he couldn’t be assed to do it literally.

Tony shifts a little, shifting as his fingers trail up Peter’s inner thigh until they hit his ass. Peter gasps as he runs his fingers over his hole, teasing lightly. “Tony, please,” Peter tells him, tugging on his hair a bit as encouragement. Tony moans softly and presses two fingers in and Peter can’t help the way his hips jerk up a little. Tony doesn’t complain about it as he fucks into Peter with his fingers. Peter’s breath is coming in ragged as the pleasure builds and he bites his lip.

“Tony,” Peter says, grip on Tony’s hair tight. “Tony ‘m gunna,” Peter stops, moaning as Tony’s fingers curl a little inside him and his hips buck up again. He shifts his legs so they’re open a little wider and Tony moans around him again. Peter throws his head back, biting his lip. “Tony ‘m gunna cum,” he tells him.

Tony takes that as encouragement to pick up the pace and the shit he’s doing with his tongue is fucking sinfuland Peter finally gets who people likethis kind of thing. “Tony,” he says, one hand gripping the seat he’s on hard and the other still tightly woven in Tony’s hair. “Tony ‘m gunna… gunna- oh, oh!” he says, head thrown back as he cums, letting Tony suck him through it. He allows himself to relax for a few moments before he musters the energy to look down at Tony, who looks pleased with himself.

“How’d you like that, baby?” he asks and Peter lets out a soft laugh.

“I think I might be in love with you,” he says, only half joking.

*

Quent looks pissed and Peter doesn’t really give a shit. “Oh shut upQuentin, this is your own fault for not appreciating me enough,” Peter tells him.

Quentin rolls his eyes, “oh, like you can do any better, Peter,” he snaps.

Peter snorts, “it didn’t even take me twenty four hours to find better Quent. You suck thatmuch and not even literally! God, you’re such a prick you couldn’t even be bothered to go down on me once and a damn while!” he says, throwing his hands up in frustration. He ignores the laughter of his classmates because Quent was the one who started yelling in the hallway so this is hisfault really. He resents that Quent looks so mad about this because Peter was happy to have just dumped him and that could have been the end of it but no.

“Dude, not going down on you is automatic dumpage material considering I knowhe expected you to do it,” MJ says off to the side.

“Oh fuck off,” Quent snaps at her but she looks nonplussed.

“Not my fault you’re the fucking worst Quentin. If you wanted Peter so stick around maybe you shouldn’t have made him cry at least twice a week. Didn’t think I had to write that one down for you,” she says, rolling her eyes.

That earns a laugh out of his classmates too and if MJ weren’t so cool about the whole thing, and if they weren’t currently surrounded by witnesses, Peter doesn’t really want to consider what Quent would do. Instead of dealing with her he turns to glare at Peter, “whatever the hell you picked up so isn’t better than me,” he says and Peter squints at him.

“Oh my god, Quent its not even a competition. It would be cruel to stick you in a competition with Tony anyway; its like throwing a fish on land and having it race a cheetah. It’s sad and stupid and all you’ll do is flop around and be pathetic. The fact that he’s better than you isn’t even something I need to think about, it’s just obvious,” he says.

At least Tony listens when he talks, and he likes Star Wars too and he didn’t make fun of him for wanting to build Star Wars Lego things with Ned. Actually he sort of invited himself along and they all had a greattime and ordered pizza because Tony’s not a total dick.

Quent turns an unflattering shade of red at his words and he reaches out for Peter but someone pulls him back. He looks behind him to find Liz there, Ned right beside her looking surprisingly ready to fight considering Ned can’t even manage to win a battle with finding matching socks. “Leave him alone Quentin, he said your done and you are. You don’t get to decide your not,” Liz tells him.

“Also,” Peter adds, “and this is the important part- I moved onand let me tell you a god damn rock would have been more affectionate than you ever were. And wash your god damn football shit, it smells like jock strap and dead things,” he snaps and his classmates erupt in laughter so hard they don’t cut it out this time, laughing over whatever it is that Quentin says back as Liz drags him off.

“Okay,” Ned says once they’re outside. “That was badass,” he tells Peter.

“Good for you,” MJ tells him. “You should have throat punched him though.”

Liz frowns, “why do you always suggest doing that?” she asks.

MJ shrugs, “always wanted to see someone get throat punched and Quentin has a punchable throat,” she says. “By the way just because Ned approves of your new guy that you moved on to waytoo fast doesn’t mean he’s made it past me. Liz doesn’t count because she’s a pushover,” MJ tells him.

“I am not! Just because I don’t suggest punching people doesn’t mean I put up with people’s crap. And for the record if I had to watch anyone get throat punched I would definitely want it to be Quentin,” she tells him. “He does have a punchable throat. And a punchable everything else too.”

“Yeah, but he’s hot,” Peter says, offering up Quentin’s only redeeming quality.

MJ makes a face, “okay,” she says sarcastically and Peter resents that. They all know Quentin is hot and has nothing else to offer so he feels he should get credit there even if he only gets credit there. God, at least Tony has a personality.

[norcumii]

Fic title thingy: The Price of Yesterday, the Price of Tomorrow

OOO. Ok, this istotally a time travel fic.For shits and giggles (andangst and thepotentialto indulge the background ship), I’mgonna say Fives goes from dying in Rex’s arms to walking into theRishi Moon station, his tattoo still freshand his goatee more chin fuzzand aspirations.

Hestops in his tracks, goingpale as a ghost while the ghosts in the room slowly stop their banterwith each other to stare back at him, until it’s only the blaringnattering of the radio left, static in his brain.

“Fives?”Echo – Echo!!! –says, cautious and with a hint of the ‘do you have a concussionagain?’ voice. “You allright?”

Fives’gaze yanks down at the reminder, frantically scanning his chestplateand patting the armor for blaster holes (what kind of ammo was CorSecusing? Why didn’tthey shoot to stun?).His armor’s both too light – basic trooper gear, not the heavierARC get up, not to mention nokama or pauldron – and tooheavy – Phase Is were clunkierand less refined than Phase IIs, differentplastoid composites.

Also,there’s a bunch of his dead squadmatesstanding there looking at him all concerned while he’s all notshot.

“I’mnot dead?” hefinally squeaks, and his voice isn’t right either, not yetroughened by yelling across too many battlefields, and breathing intoo much blaster and explosive discharges. He looks up at his deadsquadmates. “You’renot dead?”

“Notthe last time I checked,” Cutup cracks. “Though it’s startingto sound like I ought to try again.”

Droidbaitgives him a Look, while Echo nudges closer, clutching a datapad likea shie – clutching the datapad in front of him.“What’s wrong?” Echo asks, quiet and intense, able to tellsomething’s wrong.

“Whatare you rookies doing?” an older voice with more gravel snaps, therest of the squad jerking to attention. Fives stares at the sergeant,running through an exhaustive mental list because he knows thisbrother, but all that comes to mind immediately is that he’s dead –big surprise, so are too damn many good soldiers, not to mention hissquad –

Hissquad! The Sergeant! Rishi.“Rishi?” he yelps, jerking back from the concerned officer.“We’re on Rishi?”

Sargesquints at him. “Yes,” he says slowly. “Did you hit your head?Truth, not–”

“Nono no, there’s no time!” Fives spins in a small circle, seeingthe other soldiers he very vaguely remembers from too damn long andpained ago walking into the control center. “Grievous is coming!”

There’sa chorus of yelps, and the Sarge demanding answers, but Fives hasalready sprinted over to the control console. “In the meteor shower, they’re – they’re hiding in it somehow,commando droids, they take out the guys at the doors and then –there’s no time!” He’sraving again, it makes his skin crawl because it feels like thewarehouse on Coruscant except as bizarre as this is, it’s allcrystal clear and sharp and real,dead squadmates or no.“Commander Cody and Captain Rex will be here soon, but we need tosound the alarm now,before the problem starts!They’re going to Kamino.”

Thesilence is sharp and sudden, and Fives whirls back around, handsgoing towards his blasters because that’s threat silence, the kindthat comes when soldiers realize there’s shit going down.

They’reall either staring at him, or at the Sarge – and that brother iswide-eyed and pale as he looks at Fives.

“How did youknow that?”

Thecommando droids still come, but with time and preparation, Cody andRex land on a secured base that’s already blaring the alert to allRepublic forces. Sarge didn’t make it, but Fives’ squad did, andwhile he feels bad about the other guys who didn’t, he refuses toregret changing the past. Present. Whatever the hell it is. CommanderCody is talking to the others when Rex stalks up to Fives, subtleabout being on the hunt but not to someone who knows him.

It’sstarting to break Fives’ brain.

“Soyou’re the Shiny who figured out the attack,” he starts, and Echosquints at Rex, mouthing ‘shiny?’ in a way that hurts so much.Fuck, they’re all so young, Rex included.

“Captain,” Fivesdeclares, standing at attention. “I didn’t figure it out; Iremembered it.”

Rex looks baffled,Echo looks like he’s figuring out some things he’s not sure helikes, and Fives cannotregret changing the past. He’s got chips to address and remove, oldfriends to find, a ridiculous medical droid to rescue even if thedamn thing won’t know him either, and a Chancellor – well, he’sstill not entirely sure what the Chancellor is up to, but Fives isgoing to stop it. He’snot wasting a second chance.

XD THANK YOU!!!!

[vanaera]

Exchanging Gifts Across the World

Synopsis | Gift exchanges have been a tradition between you and Namjoon. It’s cool, really. He gets to give you something for Christmas and he gets to have something that always manages to warm his heart for the cold. But, today, Namjoon will try to kick it up a notch, especially when his bigtime celebrity crush Y/N is the same fucking person as SunnyY/N, his best hoe in the world. Gotta impress the lady, as they say.

(aka Sun + Moon Christmas Special!)

Genre |Fluff with one hell of humor

Wordcount | 4k+ (I’m sorry)

A/N | Hi! So my plan to make online friend!namjoon + idol!you drabbles that started from Unread Messages is fucking happening, so please read that first to understand this. Tumblr is being shitty but you can find it in my blog. Just click the masterlist link in my description to view it. Oh, and this is unedited :) ...so yeah, enjoy reading and Happy Holidays everyone! Track my tag #sweet holidays for more of my Christmas specials!

             It’s the Yuletides season and to say Namjoon is in deep shit would be an understatement. The shit he is in is deeper than the big ass snow pile on the streets he trudges on on the way to the university.

           It starts with his alarm clock going off in the ass crack of dawn, two hours earlier than the six o’clock call time he steadfastly arranged for two years straight. It was an actual mistake on his part when he went to sleep last night groggy at eleven from his tutoring sessions and his finger mistook “4” for “6,” but in his current situation, Namjoon thinks it was the greatest blessing in disguise.

           Every December, Namjoon has this tradition with you where you would send each other Christmas gifts overseas and chat each other on Send Me every 20th of December before you both open it at the same time. It was a really great tradition. Namjoon get to have exchange gifts with his favorite person in the world and it was a very great heart warmer that arms him with enough heat to pack along his bags when he leaves for home for the holidays.

           The thing is, it was easier back then.

SunnyY/N 9:47 PM

Hey it’s December

MonJoon 9:47 PM

Yeah, what about it?

SunnyY/N 9:48 PM

Wanna exchange gifts with me?

           It was a month right after Aym a BaBe, now SunnyY/N, randomly messaged him on Send Me to ask him to listen to you while you, a complete stranger, open up to him about your problems and now you’re here, wanting to exchange gifts? Namjoon thinks you’re really weird. Before he can reply, a notification pops off.

SunnyY/N 9:50 PM

It’s ok if you don’t want to

SunnyY/N 9:50 PM

I mean like, I’m a stranger so yeah. I totally get you. Sorry for bothering you :(

           Namjoon bites his lip. He doesn’t know why the hell his heart feels like its strings have been tugged out of tune. Maybe it’s because of your triple sad faces or maybe… you messaged him on some November midnight ago that gave him a glimpse of your problems. Namjoon knows denying this just feels…not right. Maybe it’s because that same midnight when you talked about how sad you are with your situation and how you can’t tell other people what you feel reminded him of his current problems in the uni: friend-less, frustrated, and unsatisfied–all centered around a lifestyle he never dreamt of having if he had not accepted the Biology program just to step on the holy floors of his dream university. He never knew chasing for his dream program, Music Composition, would be too hard, especially when his first attempt to shift was rejected. Overloading on general courses just to catch up with the students in his supposed program was never a bright idea of his freshmen days but he was just desperate and now, here he is, tired of everything and everyone.

Except you. Which is boggling the hell out of him.

Anyway, Namjoon mutters, “Fuck it,” and lets his fingers dance on his screen.

MonJoon 9:51 PM

No, I mean, you’re not bothering me. I wanna do exchange gifts, too.

SunnyY/N 9:53 PM

You do?

MonJoon 9:54 PM

Yeah, why not?

           December 15 marks the first time Namjoon went out freezing in the chilly winter air wearing a coat he just thrifted in a dollar shop to go to Paperdreams, the bookstore just a five minute walk from his dorm. The shop’s rustic interior was a leftover trace of the countryside with the tangerine lighting provided by the overhead hanging lamps and the mahogany wood of the tables and cases that held books and handcrafted stationery materials. A potted gardenia plant was standing proud by the entrance, its hardy, pale pink, petals a contrast to the leaveless trees under the white season. It’s a nice ambiance to gray and white walls he’s been long exposed to.

           “May I help you sir?”

           Namjoon looks at his side to address the lady on the counter, a middle aged woman with a tender smile on her face. “Uhh..Um…I’m just gonna look for something that’s gift-able,” Namjoon shakes his head, almost slapping himself at the stupid choice of words. “Umm…something that I can give to a friend–for Christmas, yeah.”

           “Hmm, what are your friend’s interests? We can start from there.”

           Namjoon unconsciously puts his hands together and almost wrung them, a mannerism he does when he’s nervous and instead bit his lip. Friend? Can he call you a friend? He doesn’t even know your preferences other than being a fan of Y/N and music and this info he learned from you is still vague as he hasn’t even grasped around what kind of genre you like. “Uuh-um-uh I-I don’t know her preferences that well yet so…I’m not quite sure.”

           The lady leaves the counter and flashes him a smile. “That’s okay. I can help you find something,” she beckons him to follow here in one of the aisles.

           As he passes through the aisles of bookcases, Namjoon can’t help but scan the books and journals lined up on the wooden stands, all almost made by authors he’s never heard of before. The Killing of the Lilacs, Butterflies and White Walls, The Dream of the Common Language–this is a selection he’s never encountered before.

           “You’re a bookworm, hmm?”

           Namjoon closes the distance the woman has passed onto the next set of aisles positioned against the lateral of the shop. “Uhm-yes…I’m just fascinated because I’ve never read any one of those.”

           “They’re good books, I assure you,” the lady says, grinning. Namjoon thinks the wrinkles painted by age on the corners of her eyes were a great contrast to the youthfulness in her irises. “I’ve read popular books before but what I felt while flipping through their pages cannot compare to those books,” she gestures to the aisle. “Being unpopular just somehow makes what they say truly genuine. Those authors have no one to impress, nothing to fake; just raw feelings and words.”

           Namjoon’s lips stretch into a smile, the first real one in the day. He knows what she says. Being a loyal follower to the rising solo artist Y/N is quite a similar feat. The way she produces the acoustic melodies synchronized with lo-fi hiphop beats, sometimes upbeat, is a really weird mix he’s never imagined he would appreciate. Her vocal technique ranging from R&B to dreamy pop is astounding and the lyrics she writes is just too poetic and emotionally-packed, damn it, she can write a song about his broken ass piggy bank and it would still be beautiful–

           “Anyway son, you can look through this,” the lady brings his attention back to her and back to the bookcase. “They’re prose books and journals, a safe option for someone you would like to get to know more.”

           “Oh uhm, thank you.”

           “Don’t mention it; I really like assisting people with choosing and preparing gifts. Not everyone manages to spare a look at another person anymore, much less spend the time to buy someone something worthwile. The Christmas spirit is rare and I’d like to indulge in it as much as possible. Haahh,” the lady sighs, “I talked too much again. I’m gonna go back to the counter, okay? Just call for me when you need assistance.”

           Namjoon nods, and lets his eyes continue eyeing the Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur. Needless to say, he purchases the book, heads to DHL just a street away and ships it to the address you gave him.

           A brown package arrives on his doorstep on the 19th of December and on the following day, he goes online with you and tears the wrapping away to reveal The Dream of A Common Language and white headphones standing out from the red festive paper.

MonJoon 10:46 PM

Oh my god, you’re making me cry, hoe. I just – like saw a piece of it on Google Reads and planned on buying it a week before and now, it’s here?!!!

MonJoon 10:46 PM

OMYGOD I JUST CALLED YOU HOE I’M SORRY

SunnyY/N 10:47 PM

IT’S OKAY DON’T WORRY! I actually am thankful I got your preferences right. And also, thank you! I’ve never heard of any Rupi Kaur before. I’ll be sure to give you updates!

           A week later, you messaged him, raving about the book, and eternally thanking him for giving it to you. Namjoon never knew his lips could be pulled into a smile all day long as he stared at the screen of his phone to the point that he managed to shut his eyes at ten, eyeglasses still perched on top of his nose and your message still flashed on his screen.

           “Thanks so much, Joon. The healing part got me really emotional. I never knew it would affect me so much…I just feel really comforted and just– thank you so much.”

           A week later, Y/N releases a new single, Piece Me Together, and Namjoon’s smile stays for the next few days.

           Namjoon planned that the following Decembers will follow the same suit. Every 12th, he’ll walk to Paperdreams, pick a gift of his choice, ship it through DHL, and wait at his home for his brown box  sometime around the 20th or 21st, a couple of days convenient before he’ll take a trip to his home. He never thought this gift exchanges will turn out to be the thing he most looks forward to every Holiday Season. The picking of gifts, handwriting short notes on Christmas Cards, and shipping it and waiting for his gift to reach your door makes him reminisce his carefree childhood days. It makes his heart feel contented too that he gets to express his gratitude to you for being the best person out there for him. It’s a wonder how tangible you feel when your physical presence is only emanated by your messages. Maybe it’s because you made him stronger in dealing with life or how you managed to make him smile everyday–he wasn’t really sure. All he knows is that you’re his bestfriend and he hopes you’re also finding solace in his presence.

           However, he’s supposed plan did not happen at all one year ago. Namjoon didn’t have much time to spare because of the hectic before-Christmas-break-week so when the inked “December 12” on top of his notebook paper loomed over his head, he almost freaked out. He can’t just break off the tradition; he can’t leave you hanging. So around 10:31, right after his tutoring session in the library, Namjoon went to Corner Shop, a stop shop right across Paperdreams and slipped in a set of socks with a cute duck design, because you love ducks, into the packaging, and sent it to DHL which was already in the middle of closing. It was a pretty shitty gift on his part but Namjoon did not regret it that day. That’s the only time he was free, Paperdreams is already closed, and you love ducks, so you’ll like it right? He only regretted his choice when December 22 came along with his package and lo and behold, a fucking Gucci sweater and a flabbergasting Louis Vuitton coat is revealed by the torn Christmas wrapper. Holy fucking hell.

MonJoon 10:49 PM

OMYGOD HOE

SunnyY/N 10:50 PM

HI HOE! LIKED IT?

MonJoon 10:50 PM

Umm, I’m shocked. Of course I like it but this. This is fucking expensive, hoe. This like costs a liver and a kidney. And I got you…something that’s not even worthy.

SunnyY/N 10:51 PM

I gave you that because I wanted to, Joon. I won’t be spending on just someone, it’s you, and you’re worth it. And no, oh my god, don’t call the socks unworthy! I LOVE THEM, SEE I’M ALREADY WEARING IT!!!  \(>u<)/    \(>u<)/   \(>u<)/

-   see 1 photo

I never knew you remembered small details of my preferences, hoe. This is really the first time someone got really pays close attention to the shits I sputter. So you do you baby boy, and smile for me.

MonJoon 10:52 PM

Okay, I’ll smile. See, the smile is there.

-see 1 photo

Although the guilt on my part will still reside in me. I promise I’ll do better next time. Also, it’s kinda weird you’re referring to me as baby boy when you’re just two months older than me.

SunnyY/N 10:53 PM

Why just a picture of your mouth?

MonJoon 10:53 PM

Cause you won’t show me your face so might as well be mysterious about mine

SunnyY/N 10:54 PM

Smart ass. No need to feel guilty about anything, hoe. I know I’ll always be greater than you :P :P :P HAHAHHAHA JOKE. And!!! I can call you baby boy whenever I want. Call me baby girl? ;) ;) ;)

MonJoon 10:54 PM

Mean…and ew, no.

SunnyY/N 10:55 PM

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA

           Around January, Y/N lands in Incheon airport and a couple of pictures from the paparazzi revealed her sporting an oversized Prada gingham trench coat, like the queen Namjoon knows she always is. It’s only peculiar that she’s wearing blue green socks with duck print inside her platform heels, the same design he got for you. He only shrugged and blushed, over-exaggerating his mini imagination that Y/N is compatible to him because she got the same taste in his mind over and over through the whole day.

           However, that is back then, completely different from now. Now, when he realized the coincidences between Y/N and your lifestyle and his gifts are no longer coincidences, but a shocking truth. Now, when his best person in the world, the person that he’s cried, ranted, and depended on, was the same fucking person as the girl he imagined he’ll marry in his stupid little fantasy. Now, when it’s the 15th of December and he still has nothing by his side to put into his package.

           In the hazy four o’clock chillness surrounding his room, Namjoon knows everything has to change…except his interaction with you. He’s still queasy about how to feel around you when his infatuation for the celebrity Y/N and his plainly platonic friendship with the SunnyY/N you is completely on different poles. But whatever, all he knows that for you, he’ll still be the same MonJoon you befriended for two years. He doesn’t want you to feel you’re alone now in this friendship especially when Christmas is just around the corner.

           Wrapping himself in the Louis Vuitton coat you gave to him last year, he locks his door and heads out in the cold. His wallet is heavy and warm on his breastpocket, stuffed with bills he saved from his tutoring sessions.

//

           The windchimes sound when Namjoon lets himself in the shop. The peachy orange lighting is warm on the cold of his hands, the bookcases are colored in dark sepia almost rivaling the brownness of the hot chocolate, the gardenia by the entrance is fresh pink, and now it’s accompanied by a soft lavender aster. Paperdreams hasn’t changed at all.

           “Oh hi, you’re here again!”

           Namjoon’s mouth opens, looking at the lady on the counter, the one who assisted him before, in surprise. “But I-I didn’t come here last year. I mean–you remember me?”

           The lady smiles, the same warm, comforting smile she gave him two years ago. “I don’t have frequent customers so when one enters, I practically remember them. I think I still got that photographic memory when I was young, huh?”

           She chuckles and Namjoon gives her a timid smile. “O-ohh.”

           “But anyway, I’ll really remember you. Most of the people that come here just spend a minute or a half hour to hastily grab something to buy for a gift. You’re my only customer who took his time choosing for a gift.”

           “Really?”

           “Yeah, son. Quite a long time at that,” the lady giggles. “I’ve never seen someone mull over what book to buy for a friend for two hours. Must have been a special person for you, hmm?”

           “Yeah,” Namjoon smiles, “she’s special. Very special.” The warmth of his face was personifying itself as the blush that runs from his cheeks to his ears. Namjoon coughs right after letting the things he uttered sink in. What the hell is he doing uttering sappy shit in front of a stranger? He tucks his scarf closer to his mouth, bashful and suddenly feeling hot amidst the freezing season. You’re special, that’s for sure…but that special? The special kind of special? He doesn’t fucking know. Hell, he doesn’t even make sense now–

           “Indeed she is. I hope you can find what you’re looking for here. Just call me when you need assistance, son.”

           “T-thank you,” Namjoon mutters before rushing to the aisles. Why the lady resembles a mother asking her son about his first ever crush? He doesn’t fucking know. Namjoon burries his face for a millisecond in his scarf. God, he’s a mess; a blushing kind of mess and he doesn’t know why.

           Going through books upon books, journals and stationery upon another, Namjoon seems to find nothing that can match what he wants for you. He already spent a whole ass hour jumping from bookcases and bookcases and just–he feels this shop has the answer to his dilemma and he already felt that the moment he entered but why can’t he find anything? Why–

           Namjoons stops in his tracks. Why can’t he provide the answers himself? An idea pops in his head like a sudden flash of light and Namjoon scurries to the counter and grabs a couple of Christmas cards. The lady may have looked confused at his choice but when he bids her goodbye as he exits, the knowing smile on her face is enough of an encouragement that he practically has the answer in his hands. All he has to do is to make them work.

//

           The 12th transgresses to the 13th and to the 14th and six more days before a familiar package is delivered by his doorstep. The midnight nightsky is a mix of navy blues and violet indigos, a contrast to the bright white light filling the corners and spaces of Namjoon’s room. His feet pads on the flooring in excited skips, his fingers swift on the screen of his phone.

MonJoon 10:47 PM

HEY HOE, TIME TO OPEN GIFTS

SunnyY/N 10:47 PM

WAIT OMG I HAVEN’T FOUND MY PACKAGE YET

MonJoon 10:48 PM

Surprise, Y/N. It’s not a package. Here’s your gift. Merry Christmas!

-     Open link

Let’s video call before you click on that and I tear this cover up?

           The video call alert tone only lasts for five seconds and before he knows it, the screen of his phone is displaying your room, the one he saw in his birthday, and you’re there staring at him. All pretty in your dandelion sweater, cheeks pink and you’re hair tousled. Namjoon will still never get used to the image of you staring at nothing but him.

           “What is this, Joon,” you chuckle. “Oh my god, this is kinda terrifying.”

           “I swear to you, it’s not! Now let’s both open our gifts in the count of five, okay?”

           “Okay.”

           “Five.” Namjoon looks at you, you’re staring at the corner of your screen, hand already positioned to click the link.

           “Four.” You looks so cute giggling. Namjoon stifles his own with a bite of his lip.

           “Three.” You sneak him a glance and Namjoon stills and he tells you to just focus on the link. You must not see the blushing mess he is right now.

           “Two.”  You didn’t heed to what he said and just looked at him. He mouths something you didn’t catch and Namjoon smiles.

           “One!”  The sound of the tearing paper resounds within his room and Namjoon has yet to zero in on your gift–a rolex watch and a Murakami book that will surely blow his mind– before the sound of a melody and a beat starts on your side of the world. Namjoon lets the warmth in his chest spread all over his body.

 “We’re born in the moonlight and daytime at the same hour.”

Start and end our day at the same minute.

Live and die in the moments at the same second.

But we’re not different, you and me.

For we live in each other’s presence,

Die in each other’s absence.

Still confusing, but you get the essence, right?

Haah, I just wanna live with you

Breathe the same air as you

Have me as close to you

But in the meantime it’s December

And you’re all and everything I remember

So have a merry Christmas with me

Through the screen, through the phone

Everything virtual; real and never alone

Yeah, we’ll never be alone

Merry Christmas, my only friend

Merry Christmas, my best person

You’re never alone and so am I

‘Cause I got you and you got me

And we’re everything we’ll ever want.”

Everything and all we’ll ever need.

Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

             The beats faze into silence and when you’re not saying anything at all. Namjoon starts. “I-I- you know how I make music from time to time and I just thought it would be really nice to gift you one- exert the same effort as you in these exchanges, and I-I know it sounds scratchy but-“

           “Are you kidding, Joon?” you cut him off, eyes wide and cheeks redder than before. Namjoon shuts up and imagines the color painted on the apple of your cheeks is not because of the cold but beause of him. “I-fuck, this is fucking beautiful, I’m–”

           “Speechless?” he supposes.

           You nod, tucking your shaking fingers beneath the table and away from his view. “Yeah. This is wonderful, oh my god,” you breathe out.  A song? A fucking song? By him?! You’re not prepared for this, you’re not– fucking hell, your heart is still pounding a euphoric symphony in your ears and you hope it won’t be so loud as to reach his side. He can’t know how much he’s affected you already.

           “You like it?”

           “O-of course, Joon. Oh my god, I just have to calm down, this is– too beautiful for me.”

           Namjoon laughs, throwing his head back and you have to gulp down the butterflies that tried to escape from you at the sound of his melodious laugh. He acquiesces to your reply and stays still in his chair, looking at you, smiling.

           How much luck do you have in your hands right now? You practically don’t know. All you could see is your muse sitting in front of you like how you’ll imagine him to be when you write your songs. He won’t know yet, that’s for sure. With his timid smiles and the shyness that covers his face in flaring redness in your previous video calls, you need to make him comfortable first with seeing you as nothing but the same SunnyY/N he befriended. But he’s making it so hard when he’s so handsome just…sitting there.

           Gathering your senses, you fix your seat and flash him a smile. A few seconds pass before you break into a giggle and he followed suit. “God, we’re so weird.”

           “Yeah, hoe, I know,” he gasps in between guffaws.

           “God, you surprised me, Joon. My gift to you is nothing too special and here you are–”

           He scrunches his face, still laughing. “I’m pretty sure a Rolex is not nothing too special when it will cost me another lifetime of paychecks just to afford this.”

           You trip over your words. “But-but compared to this, I– look at how mess of I am and just this is art, oh my god.

           “I’m still shocked, too, Y/N. I’m sure I’ll completely lose my shit once the idea of owning a fucking Rolex will sink in. Especially later when the probability of Seokjin asking me where the hell I got this watch when I’m a poor ass is not a possibility at all but a definite reality.”

           “Then tell him it’s from your online friend.”

           “Yeah, so he’ll push more the idea of my online girl-space-friend is actually my online girlfriend. Maybe he’ll even propose the idea you’re my sugar mommy who adores me too much.”

           You choke on your spit. Online girlfriend, hell yeah you wanna be That.

           Unbeknownst to your misery of stifling excited squeals of happiness, Namjoon giggles an thinks his joke is really nice and starts laughing…which is not helping especially when your heart balloons with too much affection for him, but anyway, seeing him happy makes you happy. That’s everything you need.

           When the chuckles have died down and the longing gazes slipped past notice, you decide to say something sensible for the first time in the evening. The daylight in your room is competing with the darkness of his. Even when you’re entirely apart, you’ve never felt this close to a person before.

           “Joon, I really love your gift. I’ve never been this grateful to a person before.”

           “Me too,” he grins. “I actually have never been this happy before.”

           You return his grin, heart happy at what he said. “Best Christmas ever?”

           “Best Christmas ever.”

           It really is the best one you’ve had and you let the thought warm your heart for days. Happiness thrums in your veins and the effect of the exchange still hasn’t worn off even after you ended the call, reluctantly on both sides might you add, in the midnight. You throw yourself on the wide expanse of your bed. Namjoon has already claimed more area in your heart than what is necessary for a friend. Revealing this truth to him will have to wait. For now, you’ll play his song over and over until your heart memorizes every single bit of it.

           You’ll definitely never forget this day.

//

1 New Message!

SunnyY/N 4:30 AM

OH MY FUCKING GOD, HOE, YOU SENT ME CHRISTMAS CARDS TOO?!!! FILLED WITH LYRICS OF WHAT I SUPPOSE ARE MORE SONGS BY YOU

MonJoon 4:31 AM

Yes, hoe. And it’s 4 right now here. Thanks for waking me up.

SunnyY/N 4:32 AM

Oops, I’m sorry. Go back to sleep now. You’re gonna go home to Ilsan today! You need that energy!

MonJoon 4:33 AM

No, I’m up. Can’t sleep. And yeah, more songs I made for you… I hope you like them. I can’t let you hear them yet. They’re still…scratchy.

SunnyY/N 4:34 AM

I’m sure they’ll turn out great ♥♥♥

SunnyY/N 4:35 AM

And yeah, please let me know beforehand before you drop anything. You’re gonna make my heart combust again.

MonJoon 4:36 AM

I’ll try ;)

           Namjoon raises his head and huffs. Make your heart combust? Not before you make his own heart burst first!

SunnyY/N 4:37 AM

Have a great day, Joon ♥♥♥

MonJoon 4:37 AM

You too. Stay safe, Y/N.

           Namjoon closes his phone and stares at his ceiling. It’s winter but why does it feel like summer? He’s feeling hot and flustered all over-Goddamn it, what are you doing to him?!

All Rights Reserved © Vanaera. No reposts, modifications, and translations of content is allowed without direct permission.

[letterboxd]

Most Picture.

There are many ways to predict how the Oscars will go. How much money is the studio spending on the campaign? How highly rated are the nominated films? How much work have nominees put in during the awards season? Is it simply their time?

For this 2019 horse race, we thought it would be fun to go for a different metric. A fool-proof statistical analysis to find not what is the Best Picture, but what is the Most. And with that, we set about investigating the stats on rewatches of the eight films nominated for Best Picture.

It turns out that plenty in the Letterboxd community have logged the Best Picture nominees more than once, and in some obsessive cases, well into double figures. We had a feeling, based on anecdotal mood and general noise, that A Star Is Born and Bohemian Rhapsody would be right up there in the stanning stakes. And they are (read on for our Q&A with Letterboxd’s most obsessive A Star Is Born fan). But also: The Favourite made the top three, and the film you have rewatched the most left the other seven in the dust.

Without further ado, Letterboxd presents the 2019 “Most” Picture Awards, ranked by the number of members who’ve watched the 2019 Academy Award Best Picture nominees two or more times (total in brackets, as of today).

Each film features a review from its greatest fan, i.e. the Letterboxd member who has logged the film more than any other (at the time of writing).

And the 2019 “Most” Picture Awards go to…

1. Black Panther (13,268)

“Would I see this movie a personal record high of seven times in theaters? For Wakanda? Without question.” —Krys (12 watches, seven in cinemas)

2. A Star Is Born (5,943)

“TIRED: discourse about whether or not the film hates pop music, all think pieces about whether the film thinks Ally is a sell out and what that means for feminism, discourse on whether Why Did You Do That? is a bop or not.

WIRED: discourse about whether or not Jackson Maine even had an ass good enough to inspire such pop perfection.” —Juliette (16 watches)

3. The Favourite (5,378)

“I miss this so much I dreamt it. Instead of riding, Sarah was doing cartwheels.” —CBotty (15 watches)

4. Bohemian Rhapsody (4,928)

“The critics can go fuck themselves. THIS IS THE BEST MOVIE I HAVE SEEN! (for the fifth time).” —Iain (16 watches)

5. Roma (4,270)

“Yes I’ve seen this twice today, yes i cried like a bitch both times, yes this is the only movie.” —Eve (7 watches)

“My feelings regarding Roma are complicated to say the least. It’s like dating the girl of your dreams, only to realize that you are completely incompatible, which ends in desperate clinginess for an ideal that was never true to begin with. It’s been a strange journey of love, disappointment, and eventual acceptance, where I’ve come to terms with my feelings. I still admire the hell out of it, and I hope it wins all the awards in the world.” —Orrin (7 watches, admittedly more times than they have actually seen it)

6. BlacKkKlansman (3,669)

“This movie is so fucking powerful, and I loved every second of it.” —Kota (6 watches)

7. Green Book (1,370)

“OK what a way to start the new year. I love this movie so much. Viggo Mortensen and Mahershala Ali are for sure going to get nominated (and it’s well deserved).” —Anthony (5 watches)

8. Vice (1,164)

“8.4/10” —Harrison (4 watches)

Unpacking the re-watchability of A Star Is Born.

“I just expect it to be exactly what it is and to be there.”

Of the eight Best Picture finalists, Black Panther has been out the longest, had the largest budget, and has done the rounds of the streaming services. It was always gonna take the top spot in a rewatch match. But to figure out the rewatchability of second-place-getter A Star Is Born, we went to the film’s hardest stanner, Juliette, to help us understand why fans keep coming back even though it’s a complicated watch.

While Juliette’s multiple reviews are meme-tastic, quippy, punctuation-free gems of observation, when we asked her to explain herself, she went remarkably deep. Her replies may just make you want to take another look at Ally and Jack. [Note: this interview contains spoilers for the film’s plot.]

How many times do you think you have seen A Star Is Born? Juliette: I think I have seen the film sixteen times? I know for certain I have seen it fourteen times in theaters, but I’m not sure how many times I’ve watched it in the comfort of my own home since it’s been released on digital. There’s just something about the energy in a theater while this film is being screened. It gives me chills just thinking about it!

What keeps you coming back to it? It's so hard to pinpoint what exactly it is that draws me back to this film time and time again. I love a good love story when properly executed! I’m kind of obsessed with celebrity culture! I love a great musical! And like many people, the subjects of this film: alcoholism, mental illness, suicide, self-doubt, the cultivation of the self, love, mentorship, and reconciliation of one’s experiences with a flawed parental figure are all things that have permeated my life. Some of these things, I understand and have a firm grasp on, they feel definitive and their impacts are a tangible output. Some of these things, I still grapple with daily. There is little definition, largely just confusion and sporadic outbursts of pain.

When I return to this film, which I often do, the thing I don’t expect it to give me is answers. I don’t expect the film to be able to define for me what I must come to define for myself. I don’t expect it to clarify my confusion. I don’t expect it to eradicate the pain. I just expect it to be exactly what it is and to be there.

There’s a scene towards the end of this film where, while mourning the loss of his brother, Bobby explains how he heard one of Jackson’s songs performed at a bar. At first, it angers him. He feels like no one really knew Jackson. But then, something shifts and just hearing the song begins to soothe him. It reminds him that, in spite of their trauma and their turmoil, it isn’t all for nothing.

That’s what this film is for me. It soothes me. It reminds me that the facilitation of our healing can come through art. It reminds me that for people, who once felt broken and irreparable, it is possible to find love and happiness not just with another person, but within one’s self. It reminds me that our pain and our devastation can be met in equal measure with (and even maybe be overcome by) our brilliance, our triumph, and our devotion to one another.

What have you noticed with each rewatch? What I notice most with each subsequent rewatch of the film is what a massive undertaking the sound editing and mixing for this film must have been. I have such deep and profound respect and admiration for all the work that went into crafting the audio for this film! The film is such a visceral experience, one that truly engages all of the senses. I remember physically recoiling in the theater the first time I heard the sound of Jackson’s tinnitus. I remember feeling my entire seat shake in time with the music during the concert sequences.

I also have a sincere recommendation! Once you watch the film a few times, I really encourage you to watch the film just through the lens of watching Lukas Nelson & Promise of the Real in the background of the pivotal scenes. It adds so much dimension to scenes you thought you already knew!

What is the single greatest scene in this version of A Star Is Born? As clichéd or “basic” as it may seem to say, there is no denying that the greatest scene in this film is when Ally joins Jackson on stage and the two perform Shallow together. It’s a cataclysmic and mesmerizing moment.

It’s the way Jackson physically steps back and acquiesces his spotlight to new talent. It’s the combination of awe and support in Jackson’s eyes as he watches Ally assume center-stage. It’s the way Ally assumes her place at the mic for the first time. It’s how Ally—all at once terrified, shocked, overwhelmed, empowered, and free—finds a version of herself she had long thought impossible to access under the stage lights. The arc of which is punctuated by Gaga’s impeccable performance in this scene, most noticeably by the shift in her physicality, from her hands covering her eyes, unable to make eye contact, to grabbing the mic and belting her now patented cathartic wail.

It’s the way, two artists—no, two people—are separated physically on the stage singing into their individual microphones, but slowly find their way to meet in the middle and sing as one. In itself, this scene is the film in miniature. If this scene hadn’t worked, it’s very unlikely the rest of the film would have worked.

Not to mention, the scene is just absolutely stunning. Of course, the music is heavenly, that’s a given. In terms of the composition, I love how the camera moves around and captures each protagonist in different ways. And the color palette is gorgeous. The way that blue and red light dance around our protagonists throughout the sequence is just jaw-dropping. It’s the kind of high an artist, and in a turn a viewer, could spend their whole life chasing.

What do you wish haters understood about the film’s greatness? My first priority would be to tell the haters that Lady Gaga is not playing herself in A Star Is Born! Just because Gaga is a singer playing a singer, doesn’t mean she isn’t acting!

Furthermore, to me, it feels unfair that the power of her performance is sometimes diminished just because she sings in the film. Anyone can sing in a way that is technically proficient with enough training, but to tell a story through song? To act a song? To perform with every iota of your being musically? That’s a whole other skill and it is just as worthy of recognition and respect as any other leading performance this year.

Secondly, I would like to convey that just because something is a remake doesn’t mean that it lacks value or that it lacks something to say. I can’t pinpoint what exactly it is about this story that seems to capture the collective imagination every few decades, but I think it has something to do with how it presents ascension at the expense of descent, art as both artifice and freedom of authentic expression, and love in spite of sacrifice and self-destruction. There’s something about that cocktail that becomes the perfect receptacle for the expression and examination of our cultural anxieties.

Its malleable formula allows for questions to be asked about how we think about celebrity and fame, the self-identification process, and the value of art. In that sense, a remake of A Star Is Born is vital and refreshing, and certainly not tired and uninspired, and most importantly, it doesn’t lack something to say. It’s inherently reflective of the culture it was created in by its very nature. It allows us to ponder not just how Hollywood tells stories about itself, but also how we tell stories about ourselves. And if you ask me, there’s so much value in that.

What do you think should win Best Picture at this year’s Oscars? Well, I’m clearly biased towards A Star Is Born, but I would not be mad to see Roma or The Favourite walk off with the evening’s top prize!

What do you think will win Best Picture? My heart says Roma, my head says Green Book.

[feelingsdusk-writes]

The clothes make the man

The trick to sneaking into a building where you shouldn’t be is to make it seem to all eyes like you should. Stiles has been doing this since he was a little older than toddler and he wanted to get back his Batman action figure from the evidence room in his dad’s Police Station.

(Of course, he got caught that time. He was a kid, what was to be expected? But to all intents and purposes he’s not talking about the after part, but the before. And he got into that evidence room just fine and got his Batman back, so that’s what counts.)

For starters, one has to look the part. And that means clothing and attitude wise, of course. It doesn’t matter if they don a suit if they don’t own it and make it theirs, because they will look like a kid playing with their dad’s clothes and get caught. Apart from that, one has to be able to lie like a pirate while looking innocent like a choir boy if they do get caught. Once one dominates those two aspects, they’re set for success.

Stiles has a three piece suit on, a strut created by the gods and a general I’m-da-boss disposition with a facial expression to match. He also has a very nifty fake identification that he flashes at the guard along with a vaguely superior squint of the eyes (nothing more than that because some security personnel take that as a challenge) that says I dare you to stop me.

He breezes through security.

(Which is good, because he may not be wearing a coat over just lingerie like some girls in the profession, but he’s not wearing any underwear and with the way these trousers fit, Stiles is more than sure that it’s pretty noticeable… which would be a little hard to explain.)

He gets on the elevator and makes sure to keep a calm and unquestionable countenance as the doors close up. There’s a security camera up in the corner and he wishes he could put a hat on, that fedoras where still a thing nowadays… partly because he would totally rock one, partly because that would cover his face nicely. As it is, he has to content himself with using the “paperwork” to cover his features but if things go south and he has to make a hasty retreat, he can always shave off his beard and he’ll be unrecognizable.

(His partner sure will be happy if that happens, because he prefers it when his face is bare and has just been bearing with the change. Stiles needed the beard for this, though, so it couldn’t be helped.)

(Darrows and braiding jokes aside, Stiles doesn’t like having a beard either, to be honest. It’s way to much work to maintain it looking nice and to not let it go over the fence into scruffy lumberack territory. Which, for the record, looks horrible on him because more than a man with a beard it looks like a beard with a man attached. That’s how much the look owns him rather than the other way around.)

The elevator chimes when it reaches the executive floor and Stiles’ eyes dart around quickly, trying to locate any guards and finding none. Mr. Christopher Argent’s office is at the far end of the hall and there’s at least one office in the middle with its lights on, which worries Stiles but not overly much, because despite appearances he’s a pro at being silent when it counts.

And the reward he will get for his services tonight counts a lot. Stiles got really lucky with this one. He’s more than easy on the eyes (fit and handsome) and despite initial appearances he’s not an asshole whose way of getting off is having a capable and attractive looking young man humiliated and licking at his polished and very expensive shoes. Not that there’s anything wrong with that if both parties enjoy it, mind you, it’s just not Stiles’ thing and he hasn’t been always lucky in that department.

He pushes himself forward and advances through the spacious and airy hallway, trying to look inconspicuous as he passes one of the lighted offices. There are plants tastefully placed on both sides and a very wide window on the left that extends from Stiles’ elevator’s exit to another one at the far end (locked after office hours) and he has to admit it’s an impressive view. The smell of pine permeates the air but it’s soft enough to not be bothersome. Stiles supposes it comes from strategically placed air fresheners rather than from the actual wooden floors. Overall, the general sensation it provokes is tranquillity and calm, which Stiles finds slightly ironic since this is a high-end lawyer firm.

The overall effect is ruined, though, when a voice comes right from behind him taking with it some years of his life.

“What are you doing here?”

Stiles turns around abruptly, hoping that his expression is more a mild oh-my-you-startled-me rather than a full on holy-crap-you-scared-the-bejeezus-out-of-me or a fuck-I-got-caught-what-crap-should-I-spew-right-now when he recognizes the big boss among bosses, Peter Hale.

Peter “The Wolf” Hale they call him and he sounded pretty pissed off too. Stiles may have just popped a fear boner just now even if the man looks more surprised than anything else at the moment.

“Ah, good night, sir,” he answers amicably. “Sorry if I startled you. Mr. Argent said that he concentrates better when the office is empty and asked if I could accommodate him today. Frankly, I work better at night myself, so I didn’t mind working the kinks over at this late hour.” He feigns looking and then frowning at his paperwork. “As it is, it will probably take us quite a few intense sessions to hash out everything,” he sighs as if put upon, “so I should probably get going. Sorry again for bothering you.”

He’s a little shit, he knows. Stiles has always gotten his kicks out of playing with dogs bigger than he is. More specifically, from looking harmless like a toy poodle and then turning into a wolf when they least expect it or not letting them realize what has happened until it’s over. Either of those two options is just fine, the reactions are always priceless. He knows this bad habit of his will come back to bite him in the ass someday, but what can he say? He’s a man of many vices.

But, oh, one Peter Hale is the top dog among top dogs and Stiles can feel himself pumped up for the confrontation, the battle of wits, the clash of wills… Ok, but he’s getting carried away, back on track, Stiles. But, really? Peter “The Wolf” Hale. If this isn’t a call for him to… Back on track, Stiles! These pants are tailored to fit him to the millimetre, he can’t afford to pop a full boner. And sadly, as it is, he’s already half mast so he needs to take a grip of himself.

(Crap.)

(Wrong analogy.)

(Abort, abort, abort.)

(You’re a high class prostitute, Stiles, he reminds himself firmly, be more chill!)

Stiles forces himself to nod casually at the man and to turn around to go towards Argent’s office. There’s a pointed silence at his back that feels like the calm before the storm, but he doesn’t let himself react to it and just continues on.

“And when exactly did he make this appointment?” Peter asks nonchalantly before he can take a single step. Stiles turns back around with wide innocent eyes that would probably work better without the beard but whatever.

“About a week ago?” Stiles hums thoughtfully. “On Tuesday afternoon if I recall well. Why? Is there a problem, sir?”

“Ah, you must be the consultant for the Whittemore case then.” Stiles doesn’t confirm or deny, giddy with the knowledge that this may work out in the end even if it isn’t exactly what he planned in the beginning. “I’m afraid that Mr. Argent has taken some days off due to extenuating circumstances and he failed to inform you. I apologize for that, it was very unprofessional.”

“Oh, no harm done, they were extenuating circumstances, after all.” Stiles waves it off. “We can reschedule for when he comes back then.”

“No need, no need! I’m taking on some of his cases until then, and as it happens, the Whittemore’ is one of them. I can pencil you in right now so I hope this at least makes up for the oversight.”

(Crap, Stiles doesn’t trust that congenial smile one bit.)

Stiles plasters a bland smile on his face as he motions to Peter to lead the way and then, discarding the option of making a hasty retreat and the fun that would entail, he follows behind the man towards the one of the lighted offices. As he enters, he takes stock of the room quickly now that the man’s back is to him.

Peter Hale is clearly a fan of the minimalist trend because it’s a very spacious office with relatively few pieces of furniture and trichromatic (black, white and with silver here and there) in its composition. To the left and over a very tasteful but simple black rug, there’s a sitting area with two black leather couches, a big rectangular glass table in the middle of those and a library with law texts covering the entire wall beside the whole set. To the right, and again over a black but different rug, a slightly classic looking wooden desk (oak maybe?) with one of those ergonomic adjustable leather chairs behind and two other simpler but comfortable seeming chairs at the front. At the moment, there are stacks upon stacks of folders and paper on top of the desk, but seeing that even with that seer number of things on it it’s not in disarray, Stiles can bet that normally the man keeps it scrupulously organized. To finish, there are exactly four plants in the office, one on each corner, and little else in the way of decoration. But then again, the view from the massive window right in front of Stiles is more than enough decoration in and of itself.

“I’ll admit that I’m a little… perplexed by your presence here,” Peter states, voice mild as milk, as he takes a seat behind the desk. He makes an inviting gesture towards the chairs in front of it.

“How so?” he inquires just as silkily as he copies the man and accommodates on his seat. He then plasters a genial smile that is in equal parts amicable and challenging and Peter pauses for a nanosecond before he copies the gesture.

“Don’t take offense but the case is an open-and-shut one.” The man carries on, raising up to the challenge and issuing one of his own, and Stiles has a hard time containing a delighted grin. “Besides trying to get a lighter punishment, there’s not much else we can do when the boy got himself caught on tape doing the deed, so I don’t see what it is that you can… assist us with.”

“Well, and that’s exactly why you need my help,” he points out brightly, taking a pen from a holder on the desk and twirling it between his fingers skillfully. Peter’s smile acquires a dangerous edge and Stiles fights to not squirm on his seat at the wave of heat that it provokes on him. “No disrespect meant, of course, outside perspective and all that, you know.”

Stiles may not know the intricacies of what happened with Jackson Whittemore three weeks ago, but he still does know quite a bit because he buys the newspaper, thank you very much, and the society section is always filled with some incident or another of the upper crust of the city. Whittemore is an insufferable rich kid that is always in an on and off relationship with Lydia Martin because of how much of an asshole he is. However, while Stiles may not be able to stand him because of that shitty attitude, he has to concede that he’s also a generally good best friend to Danny Mahealani, who was frequently targeted because of his sexuality until Jackson started to forcefully shut mouths and not care about if it all ended up plastered on the newspapers or not. All of which leads him to believe that the incident of tree weeks ago outside a gay club (which Stiles has been to before, by the way) is less of a hate crime like the newspapers are selling and more of a Jackson stepping up to defend his friend and having the bad luck of just having had the tail end of it caught by the security cameras. So, all in all, he has enough knowledge of the case and of the inner workings of that club to spend at least a good fifteen minutes talking about it without giving the game away.

“Of course,” Peter answers blandly and Stiles shivers again at the tone before he forces himself to snap out of it. “You’re right. Mr. Argent and I may have missed something these three weeks we’ve been combing through all the evidence. A fresh pair of eyes could be all we need to make a breakthrough.”

Ok, Stiles has the self-preservation instincts of a newborn baby and a self-restraint to match, because he wants to climb Peter Hale like a tree right now. That sarcasm was beautiful.

“Exactly! That’s exactly the spirit,” he replies instead tracing his lips with the cap of the pen. Peter’s eyes follow the movement subconsciously and Stiles fights a smirk.

“And you come highly recommended too, so I’m sure your insight will be… priceless.”

“Well, why lie?” Stiles smiles and bites his lip as if he’s being bashful about how sure he is of himself. “I only leave satisfied customers behind so I’d say I’m well worth my fees.”

“That’s a very bold statement to make,” Peter points out as he leans on his chair with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m sure you understand that there’s a time to be bold and a time to be meek.” Stiles explains as he opens his legs a little further and leans on the armrest slightly. “I can be both, of course, because one has to be versatile in my line of work, but I tend to be more brazen when let to choose.”

“Ah,” Peter smirks and Stiles tenses in anticipation. “I can see that. Being forced to take a meek approach must be difficult for you, then.”

“Well, it’s always hard, of course, but it’s nothing that I can’t handle. I’ve been through harder situations than just having to control my natural urges-” he lifts his hand to tangle with the locks of hair at his nape at the same time that he mouths at the cap, as if in remembrance of something “-for the sake of the completion of a job.”

“That’s very professional, I’ll give you that, but with all due respect I still fail to see how your versatility can be of any use for me.”

“Well, that may be because you also fail to see that I’m not only versatile. I’m flexible, skillful and I have a lot of stamina, so it’s next to impossible to wear me down once I have my sight set on the goal. But then again, I don’t understand why am I here trying to sell my services to you when Mr. Argent already bought them.”

Peter remains silent, his eyes boring into Stiles’ with an intensity that leaves him nearly breathless. Then he rises up from the chair slowly and like a predator stalking his prey, he goes around the desk to stop in front of Stiles, who has to look up to maintain his defiant look.

“So,” he says insolently and nearly grins at the way Peter’s eyes darken dangerously. “How long are we going to draw this out, Mr. Hale? I’ve already told to you that my services are excellent and that you need them, but if you still have doubts I have no problem taking my business elsewhere. I assure you I have people lining up for my services.”

“You have quite the skillful tongue, I’ll give you that,” he replies silkily, as he advances the last couple of steps until Stiles has to lean back to look at his face.

“You have no idea,” Stiles answers cockily as he rises from his seat with as much grace as he can with Peter so close to him. The action leaves their faces at less than an inch from each other. “And that’s something that won’t change since now I’m the one reconsidering this whole agreement.”

And with that, Stiles turns to leave. Before he can take more than two steps, he’s grabbed and turned around. After a few disorienting seconds, he finds himself restrained against the desk with a hand pressing his neck firmly against the wood.

“And what the hell do you think you’re doing, Mr. Hale?” he snaps at the man.

“Well, as you said, your services have already been paid for-”

“By Mr. Argent.”

“Ah, but that’s the crux, isn’t it? Because if he bought your services for the company and this company is mine… I’m sure you can do the math, sweetheart.” Stiles glares at him and Peter chuckles, pulling him up and turning him around so he can press himself against Stiles' front. Stiles who is still hard as a rock, gasps at the sensation and Peter smiles like a shark. “Besides, I never said I refused your services, I just said I failed to see their usefulness. But at this point, if it’s already been paid for, any use is better than none, right? In any case,” he smirks as he reaches to tangle a hand on Stiles’ hair, exactly at the spot where he had just done the same moments before to provoke Peter, “paid for or not, I have standards.”

“Wha-” Stiles splutters as Peter starts pushing him backwards.

“I like my twinks barefaced, sweetheart, so that scruff has to go if we’re going to make this experience at the very least tolerable.”

The next thing Stiles knows is that he’s sitting on the restroom’s countertop without his jacket and vest and that Peter is right between his legs tutting a subtle insult about his incompetence. He also has his face lathered up and a barber’s knife is touching his neck, brandished by said man. Ah, and the fear boner is definitely there in full swing. Peter may be possibly smirking too. Stiles would entertain the thought of an adequate answer if, well, he wasn’t too busy paying attention to the very sharp knife currently making its way tortuously slow towards his jaw.

“Well, so far I don’t see where the benefit is in here for me,” the man says loftily as he cleans the lather off the blade and Stiles closes his long legs to press him in as hard as he can in his position.

“I’d say you’re enjoying yourself so far, Mr. Hale,” he quips as he rolls his hips.

“It’s been more trouble than it’s worth so far, the way I see it,” the man smirks pressing harder, earning a shuddering jerk from Stiles. Then he retreats to turn Stiles’ face the way he wants it to make another pass and finish shaving him. When he has his face clean, Peter’s finger presses inside his mouth as he muses softly, “skillful tongue, hmm,” before grabbing his necktie and pulling him off the counter so he can turn him around and press against his back. “But I’m sure you will change that. Right, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Mr. Hale,” Stiles grunts with thick sarcasm as he grounds his hips back, trying to get the reins back and failing.

Peter retreats suddenly and since he still has a firm grip on Stiles’ necktie, he has to follow him with as much grace as he can. He finds himself in the sitting area near the library and has to bend awkwardly when the man lets himself fall to sit on the couch without having a care about how he pulls Stiles with him when he does so. His intentions are clear though, when he pulls again and Stiles has to fall to his knees to relieve some of the pressure and this time it’s him between the other man’s legs.

“I suggest you’re thorough, sweetheart, because this is all the help you’re going to get,” Peter states cockily, softening his grip on the tie just enough to give him some space to maneuver.

“Ah, Mr. Hale, but we’ve already established that I’m a professional,” he smirks against his bulge, looking upwards to Peter’s eyes the way he knows every man likes, “so of course I came prepared.”

There’s just a couple of seconds in which Peter stills and his eyes seem to burn with intensity before he’s being pulled up and into the man’s lap. Before he knows it his trousers are down, revealing nothing underneath, which prompts a growl out of Peter. Then he’s being maneuvered into straddling him and fighting to not laugh because this tastes like victory already.

Stiles locks his eyes into Peter’s before he smirks and reaches behind himself to grab him, enjoying Peter's sharp intake of breath at the action. Then he lowers himself tortuously slow, making sure to pause and squeeze every couple of seconds before resuming his way. By the time Peter is fully sheathed he’s clearly fighting for control if the way his fingers are digging into Stiles’ hips is any indication.

Stiles hums with satisfaction and bites his lip before he smiles challengingly. Then he starts grounding his hips in slow circles, wondering when the man’s control will snap. Peter’s eyes promise a gruesome retribution but Stiles just laughs in his face and makes no move to hasten his pace.

Stiles should have known better.

Suddenly, Peter lets go of his hips to grab at Stiles’ hair and pull his head back with one hand and to slip the other between his butt cheeks. Stiles jerks at the sensation and groans when teeth find his nipple through his shirt.

“You dirty cheater,” he groans biting his lip to prevent a louder noise from escaping him.

“All is fair in love and war,” Peter replies a little out of breath but way more in control that he should have any right to. In response, Stiles tries to go the other route to regain the upper hand and quickens his pace. “Ah, ah, ah,” Peter tutts. “And you where doing so well… Slow it down, sweetheart, there’s no rush.”

Stiles arches and whines softly when Peter presses him tighter to himself, adding another friction to his already overloading senses. He tries to go harder again but Peter’s hold doesn’t let him. He glares at the man and he gets a smirk in response. And no, this is not happening. Stiles is not going to suffer through this indignity alone. Either they both win or they both lose.

With that in mind, he twists his hips sharply, making sure to squeeze as hard as he can. Peter curses, tightening his grip, and Stiles laughs breathlessly.

“Peter,” he whines softly in his ear as he squeezes once again.

Peter curses lowly again, becomes taut as a coiled spring, and jabs a vicious finger in revenge that has Stiles shuddering as much as he is. Then they both collapse gasping for breath.

Several minutes later, Peter huffs a laugh and presses a kiss into Stiles’ sweaty shoulder. “Don’t tell me this is why you were growing that beard.”

“It was completely necessary,” Stiles replies into his neck pouting as he swats at his arm weakly.

“Well, I’ll admit that I enjoyed shaving it immensely,” Peter laughs and Stiles waves a there-you-have-it gesture at him, still too spent to move. “But you’re still a dork, sweetheart.”

“Happy birthday, love,” Stiles murmurs turning to look at him with a loving smile. “I’m sure you’ll love my other present.”

“I will, hmm?” Peter hums before kissing his husband softly. “And what could possibly top this?”

“Well, that’s impossible,” Stiles jokes and Peter snorts, “but I’m sure it comes as close as it could possibly be because I know you’ve been really pissed off about that missing recording.”

Peter freezes.

“As in- How in the hell- You can’t mean Jackson’s-”

“Yeah, that recording,” Stiles says smugly before exploding into guffaws right afterwards at the man’s gobsmacked expression.

(Spolier alert: Peter silences his laughter easily enough.)

—

If you’ve liked this, I invite you to read it once more now that you know that Stiles was role playing to fully appreciate the extent of his dorkiness XD.

Also, kudos to anyone that got that tiny Stiles dressed as a cop to get his batman figure back and that the only reason he got inside was because everyone was too busy laughing/being surprised/ trying to find a camera to record it.

[canmom]

i’ve basically learned two ways to draw. one is vector art, using Bézier curves in Inkscape; I got reasonably OK (by no means all that great) at drawing in that style, using cel-shading and stuff.

yes it’s the horse show... i know... i repent for my sins

the other is pixel art, trying to do the Pokémon style

and like! I think some of these are actually pretty good (the pixel art moreso than the vectors)! I’m sure there’s many technical criticisms you could make about like, colouring, composition, lighting, how I draw particular characters, etc. Definitely like my human heads are... pretty fucking bad lol

but the main thing that’s stopping me getting better is that both of these styles take forever to do. I never got the hang of drawing with a tablet, so my usual way of working is zoomed way in, minutely tweaking bézier handles or drawing a handful of pixels, deleting and drawing again until it “looks right” - because that’s what works with a mouse. And sure, obviously pro artists get fast by practicing a lot, but I find it’s hard to muster the energy when you know it will take solid days of constant drawing and at the end you’ll get a fairly mediocre picture.

The other problem with that is that when everything is so fiddly, it’s hard to change anything. A long way into drawing that pony picture I realised (and was advised) the composition is really off, and it could do with a total rearrangement. But I’d spent hours meticulously constructing the perspective, this is what that image looked like with all the guide layers turned on...

...I didn’t really want to do all that again lol. (That was the only time I went all-out on perspective like that, but the same sort of feeling applies with pixel editing).

Anyway idk where I’m going with this. I guess I’m saying I still want to git gud at drawing, I just need to figure out how to like, draw gesturally and block in shapes quickly and not get so bogged down in details so early. When I watch process videos on Youtube, obviously they’re sped up, but you can see the artist quickly rough out the shapes and tones of the picture and kind of recursively refine it in a top-down way. Whereas like, I’ll throw in some blobs to block out the perspective, but then it’s right down to the pixel-level editing.

This isn’t really a request for advice (though if you have ideas I won’t object!), it’s more a, reflection on what I could do. I guess like, practicing drawing on paper would probably be a sensible step; there’s no ‘zoomed-in pixel editing’ for a pencil.

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Six Organs of Admittance Interview — 2005

Sunday interview! This was right around the time that I was really getting into all things Ben Chasny ... and more than a dozen years later, he’s still delivering the goods. Six Organs’ Burning the Threshold was one of my faves from last year and Hexadic III (featuring various artists using Ben’s Hexadic method) comes out in a couple weeks. 

Ben Chasny does not like labels. "Folk music? Never heard of it, never played it," he proclaims in the entertaining press release accompanying Six Organs of Admittance's new School of the Flower. "Rock is the new folk and folk fucked rock without the reach- around so rock is out to get some." OK then! Chasny's Six Organs of Admittance (mostly a one man show) is a tough beast to get a handle on, but once you do, there are untold delights to be found.

School of the Flower is Chasny's first record for indie-powerhouse Drag City as well as the first he's recorded in a professional studio. It contains some of his best songwriting yet, from hypnotic drones to thumping avant-garde improvisation to lulling, uh, folk-rock. Sorry, Ben!

School of the Flower is Six Organs of Admittance's 13th release in just 7 years. What drives you to be so prolific?

I don't really know. I guess I just don't really have anything else to do. I don't have a career, I never went to school, I don't really do anything. It's just sort of how I pass my time. Some people make models or fly kites and I record music. I have a feeling it will slow down and stop fairly soon, though. So I am just happy that it hasn't, yet. There's just always one more record in my head to get out. Right now I gotta get out the next one, which is looking to have no acoustic guitar, as it is in my head so far.

One of your songs was included on Devendra Banhart's recent Golden Apples of the Sun compilation. Do you feel any kinship with the other "new folk" (or whatever it's being called these days) artists that are on that disc? Is there really a "folk revival" or is it just a media thing?

I feel like I am friends with some of the people in that media construct but I am not really best friends with others. I don't know. That particular song was kind of just a fun pop song with fairly meaningless lyrics but for some reason Devendra wanted to put it on his comp. I tried to persuade him to use something less shallow but he wouldn't have it. He's funny like that. I like him very much. How can you not? He's so hairy and filled with so much positive energy. He's so positive that I feel like a washed up fisherman from a disgusting shanty town hanging out with Frank Sinatra when I'm hanging with him. I wish I had that much enthusiasm and love instead of wishing for the end of the world every day.

As far as a "revival," I would point people towards Stone Breath, Ghost, The Kitchen Cynics and bands like that before they start thinking this is new. Why is nobody talking to Stone Breath about their views on music nowadays? They're great and totally overlooked by everyone. As far as the media's interest, I am sure it is almost fully done, and all the better for it. Once it's done, then I think the real music will start getting made.

You say in the press materials for the album that the new album's title track is influenced by John Cale and Terry Riley's Church of Anthrax album. Could you talk a bit about this influence? It's one of my favorite albums. And along those lines, perhaps can you talk a bit about the role of repetitive structures in your music?

Isn't that a great record? Yeah man, my friend Russ Waterhouse made me a cassette copy of that record years ago and it's one of the best driving records ever. I just got back into it last year. It's just a great stoner record. It can be as intricate or as easy to listen to as possible. I also love the forward thrust of the record, like its foot is stomped down on the gas. I mean mostly the first song here. The songwriting is great too.

To be honest, I repeat a lot of lines because I simply can't remember that many parts at a time. I don't know why. But it probably also appeals to my obsessive-compulsive nature. I like to line things up, match things, stack things. I think it just carries over to the music. And when I have a panic attack or something, I often rock back and forth, and mumble the same thing over and over. I'm sure it all comes from the same place.

Can you tell me a bit about how you and drummer Chris Corsano hooked up? What does he bring to the table musically?

I first saw Chris play with his Flaherty/Corsano duo and my jaw was on the floor. In no way was I able to capture even a fraction of his intensity that he displays in that setting. We want to do a straight up duo record of improvisation one of these days to really get it all out. But he was amazing in the studio. And it was wonderful to have a friend in the studio for a few days to bounce ideas off of. I just feel bad that in the end, there wasn't a better representation of his playing, because he's one the most inspirational musicians I know. Sorry Chris. I hope you had a good time!

What role does improvisation play in your creative process?

It's very important, but just as important to me as composition. I can't conceive of one without the other. It just seems unbalanced to me. Not when I listen to other people's music though, just for my own.

Do you prefer recording at home rather than in a studio?

I like the spontaneity of home recording but working in the studio with Bill Skibbe and Jessica Ruffins at the controls was amazing. I loved it. Having those many more tracks opened a lot up. I felt like I had been jogging with weights for years and I was finally free to just run.

Who's Gary Higgins, the writer of "Thicker Than A Smokey?" In the liners you give the impression he's dropped off the face of the earth.

Gary Higgins released one record by himself in the '70s and it's an amazing collection of songs. It's one of my favorite records of all time. It sounds like it could have been recorded last year. It's also helped me though some serious bullshit. As of yesterday the contract has been signed for the re-issue of his Red Hash record on Drag City. He's been found! He is alive and well and still has the masters for the original record. I can't wait for the record to be available to everyone.

Can you tell me a bit about the inspiration behind "Lisboa"?

Carlos Paredes was one of the world's greatest musicians. He was from Portugal. That song is for him. He passed away last year. So while everyone is rambling on and on about acoustic music and folk and Fahey worship ad nauseam, a great unknown and absolutely humble musician passed on without hardly a blink from the underground. I hope people investigate his music.

Are there any other guitarists (acoustic/electric/whatever) you particularly admire? What about them do you like? Most reviews mention Fahey, Jansch, Kottke -- do you think these references are apt?

In the last few years, I've started to despise the acoustic guitar. I used to listen to Kottke and Jansch, though I was never a Fahey fan. I like his writing more than his music. If I had my way I would make it a worldwide law that nobody could play the acoustic guitar for at least 5 years. It's so boring. Just last night I was playing in London and I just kept thinking, "nobody likes this. This is totally fucking boring and trash and bullshit. Acoustic guitar sucks." I wanted to get up and put something on the stereo, like Aerosmith, but I had to play. Needless to say it was an embarrassing show and one that made me question my existence. I am very sorry to the people in London who showed up. My sincere apologies.

What's your approach to performing this material live?

Well, I try to stay positive and I try to think that it has a purpose. Sometimes that feeling abandons me, though. When I feel like I have a purpose, it doesn't matter how I interpret the music, it will be OK. But when I feel a void and a shadow, than nothing can save it. The evening is ruined. Those evenings, there is no hope. But when the light is right and the angles in the room are polite then the sounds really work. The most important thing is to accept the fact that I am absolutely nothing and of non-importance. Then, everything can only get better.

What are your touring/recording plans in the foreseeable future?

I suppose I will start playing some shows to play some of this material. I am talking with Corsano now about how we can get on the road. It's looking like it will happen in early March. I would really like to start building music boxes. I always dream of that. And I would like to make sound sculptures. I have some designs in notebooks but I haven't built anything yet. I think that is my future.

[thesarcastictree]

Chapter 1 - Play of the game

Hey, everyone! 

Author’s note: I did it! The first, however a shorter, part is out. I hope you’re gonna enjoy it. Remember - sharing is caring. ^-^

For my lovely best friend Susan, because she loves when I mention her.

Words: 3063

You have 1 new message.

I rolled my eyes as I heard the painfully familiar vibration coming off from under the pillow. My eyes hurt and my face felt disgusting, blaming the fact I again didn't take off my make­-up before taking an obligatory nap. The yawn was long, making me feel dizzy. I put my hand under the cushion, palpating a rectangularly shaped object, taking it out. 

Unlocking the screen of my phone, I sighed. Had I really been sleeping for only thirty minutes? I quickly tapped in the passcode, internally satisfying my clumsy self, since I hadn't made any mistake in the four meaningless numbers. 

Another message popped up, as my eyes met with the bright white chat.

forever alone bitch: YOU SLEPT ENOUGH COME PLAY noodle mommy: what  noodle mommy: did you seriously wake me up because of stupid ow forever alone bitch: yes now come  forever alone bitch: i wanna play compets noodle mommy: geez, ok noodle mommy: gimme five minutes forever alone bitch: gg noodle mommy: ??? forever alone bitch: you and your five minutes

I chuckled, shaking my head. Somehow, I managed to get off my bed in a record time. The procedure of undoing the paint I had stuffed onto my skin was, as well, quite quick. In a while, I sat down onto a spinning chair, putting on the headphones, giving up on the ball of cables that fell into my lap. As I waited for the Blizzard app to start, I swiftly found the playlist that had been my companion for a few months now. The brisk tones of one of my favorite songs hit my ears, and I laughed at myself and at my poor attempts of singing in Korean. "Geu bojogaen illegal, ille~~gal," I sang quietly, tapping the tips of my fingers in the rhytm, "but I want it anyway, anyway, anywa-" The invite to the group hit my screen, as soon as I got to the loaded menu. I, of course, accepted, joining the voice chat right after.

uncleREYES has joined the voice chat.

"Yo, nibblet, what's up?" I asked with a hoarse vocal, caused by the lack of usage. I got literally no response. Letting out a quiet sigh, the sudden hyped sound made me jump in my seat. "HELLO, HELLO, IT'S YOUR GIIIIR-" The microphone cut off.  "Yeah, hi," laughing, I started the queue for competitives. "-lright, you should totally see the video I sent you, because I'm fucking crying again. Why is MCCree so perfect? Why does Hanzo have to die in every fanfiction? Why can't they just be happy?!" Sometimes, I wondered how she was able to be hysterical over two characters from a game, but then again, I wasn't different. 

Well, okay, I agree. My obsession had gone perhaps too far, being it a few Korean idols, which made it even more difficult. They were real. They existed. They breathed the same air like I did, and their faces were literally everywhere I looked; printed on my phone case, set on my wallpapers - I even had a goddamn pillow case with Taehyung's face, biting his lip in the most seductive way ever. "You need help," I responded to her autistic screeching, glancing at the timer passing by the second minute.  "... and you are the one to say that." Susan barked back with ease. "Yeah, you're right. We both need help."

Susan and I, we had been friends since... pretty much forever. I met her during the start of the first year, as my kind of crazy classmate, also being an idiot into games. We'd argued for a few times, even stopped talking for another few months, but at the end of the day, noone could ever split our brotherhood, as we called it, apart. And there we were, the partners in any crime. However, little did we both know that the upcoming minutes were going to completely change our lives, for good. 

GAME FOUND! Joining the game...

Both of us went silent, as the map of Volskaya Industries showed, together with the name and rank lists of both teams. I briefly went through the players, and... something seemed off. 

"Susan?" I asked, frowning. She responded with a silent, almost unhearable: "Hm?"  "Don't panic, okay? We have a fallen diamond Widowmaker main against us, low plat, in premade with two other platinums," I began, taking a deep breath. It wouldn't be a big deal, if I wasn't a borderline golden rank, and my comrade a bit higher gold. Was our elo getting bigger, or did we just get randomly filled into the missing places of a long-buffering game? I cracked my knuckles, checking out the others' mains, even more confused. "How the hell am I not supposed to panic? I'll just play goddamn D.va, I'm not feeling the Ryu ga wagateki go-fuck yourself tonight." I let out a desperate laugh. "Yeah, enjoy it. One of the... well, the GucciBoy has about 100 hours on D.va. They have a 120 hours MCCree main too, what the fuck?" I whined, comparing the composition of our teams together. We seemingly stood no chance, yet I didn't feel like giving up.  I chose Mercy, even though I wasn't a big fan of her pick. I decided to go for certain, stable decisions, instead of a Hanzo or Widow, and it seemed like I perfectly fullfilled the expectations of our teamcomp. 

My attention, while we waited for the doors on attack to open, got caught by the allchat, as I smiled cheekily.

[ALL] Bunny: sugacheonjae? my ass... [ALL] GucciB0i: LMAO  [ALL] TuandonJuan: IT'S HIGH NOON SOMEWHERE IN THE WORLD

Susan's next yak reminded me of a dying whale, but I decided to ignore it. 

[ALL] uncleREYES: YES IN MY BED [ALL] TuandonJuan: GIVE ME YOUR ADDRESS HUCKLEBERRY

"I'm so adding him!" she hissed happily, as I heard the furious clicks of a mouse. We had about twenty seconds towards the beginning, and for some reason, I felt nervous. 

[ALL] Bunny: what is it, suga, you scared? [ALL] SugaCheonjae: Excuse me?  [ALL] Bunny: ;) 

That was the last hit my ego could take. I filled in with my Odile Widowmaker instead, ignoring the desperate cries for a switch back, as I just simply muted the teamchat. 

[ALL] xHeroO: can u pls report widow shes trolling [ALL] uncleREYES: can you please stfu and play, she's good  [ALL] Bunny: we will see about that [ALL] TuandonJuan: uuu [ALL] GucciB0i: spicy, I like that

"It's fine, yo, I muted them, anyway." I whispered to the microphone, to prevent Susy from distracting herself on pointless arguments with some kids. Wrapping my fingers tightly around the mouse, I covered the red light with my palm. The three of the enemy premades started to slowly dip over the edge of the cup of patience, that had already been pretty full.  The last seconds disappeared, and we rushed out of the building, with Reinhardt's shield leading us towards the point we were supposed to capture. I hooked myself at the edge of another house, dragging myself up in a long jump. Seeing the Symmetra's sentry turrets in the scope, I sighed, knowing already that it'd be pretty difficult to get over the arc, and then my point of view disappeared.  "Shit..." I cursed under my breath, waiting for the respawn. The first kill of the game was shining in the corner, as Bunny eliminated my courageous positioning. 

[ALL] Bunny: :) 

"Motherfucker."  Susy cleared out her throat with a loud cough, and before I tried to shut her up, her words pierced my ears: "Calm down, Natalie, you got this."  I nodded, not quite sure of myself, but I did. I truly also didn't feel like losing against a bunch of pricky platinum asses. Susy flew behind the entrance through the arc, destroying the sentry turrets, and losing her Mecha in exchange. Low on health, she jumped behind the corner, meeting up with Reinhardt's half-destroyed shield and Zenyatta's healing orb. I took a deep breath. It was my time to shine. I dediced to not make the same mistake twice. Instead of jumping on a visible place, I slowly looked out from behind one of the slopes, with my rifle scoped into the enemy team. At first, I couldn't quite spot a single thing not hidden behind Orisa's barrier, but then Symmetra made a simple, greedy mistake. I found the weak spot, quickly eliminating one of their major defense mechanism, dying to a bullet of the enemy Widowmaker again, afterwards. 

[ALL] Bunny: nice try :) [ALL] SugaCheonjae: Are you always this annoying? 

The beeping of a movement around the point assured me that I made a great move. Symmetra was down, and after the death recap, their Mercy too. Roadhog's hook wasn't something she could just simply survive. I bit my lip. The only proper problem on their team was Widowmaker, killing our squishy damage dealers without a fuss.  "She's on the rooftop-" I grinned, victoriously, pinning down Bunny's killing spree with a precise headshot. Reinhardt's shield protected us in front of the enemy's D.va ultimate and mister High noon got a bullet back, thanks to Genji's deflection. I got to kill Orisa on low health, before she placed the barrier, as we successfully captured the first point.

[ALL] SugaCheonjae: Everything's alright down there? 

I mocked at the cockiness the enemy Widowmaker showed before, Susy's 'ooooh' giving me the courage I didn't even know I had. 

[ALL] Bunny: you're just lucky

Yeah, of course, I thought to myself, hitting one head after another. Not even three minutes into the end of our timer we'd captured the second point, setting the score to 2:0 for our team.  "Good job, they don't even know what hit 'em."  I loved the enthusiasm in my friend's voice. And she was right - after a bad start, we didn't even let them move from their attack spawn, as Susan's arrow hit every spotted movement, and I finished off the rest. We won, almost effortlessly claiming the clear score. The victory poses triked through my screen and Susy, all proud, screamed, watching the animation of Widowmaker swinging, with my name underneath.

Play of the game SUGACHEONJAE as WIDOWMAKER. 

I quickly recognized the one last seconds before we captured the last point of the objective.  "Now, watch this." I grinned, biting the side of my index finger. TuandonJuan fell first. D.va's mech disappeared in Susy's scattered arrows and I quickly dragged my mouse over, finding Widow's peaking head, shutting down even the Mercy's desperate try to resurrect their last hope. 

[ALL] GucciB0i: GG [ALL] TuandonJuan: I'll find you in another life, unclereyes [ALL] uncleREYES: ;-; [ALL] Bunny: I could really use a hug right now... 

"Tsk..." I snapped. Disrespectful idiot, no wonder he fell to such low elo. We returned back into the menu. "Let me just go grab a coffee, and we can continue," I announced, taking off the headphones, heading to the kitchen. It felt good, really. I'd always liked to prove my skill, especially to such douchebags. 

Returning back to my room, I silently closed the door, placing the cup next to my laptop. What caught my attention were the extra three icons next to ours, and the names shining bright in the groupchat. 

[GROUP] TuandonJuan: howdy [GROUP] GucciB0i: HOW ON EARTH DID YOU TWO GOT ONLY GOLD FROM PLACEMENTS, I DON'T GET IT [GROUP] uncleREYES: its called skill, something you dont have [GROUP] GucciB0i: that doesn't make any sense [GROUP] uncleREYES: jeff hates us [GROUP] GucciB0i: touché [GROUP] uncleREYES: :^) [GROUP] Bunny: what are we waiting for? [GROUP] uncleREYES: coffeegirl [GROUP] GucciB0i: why did I read cowgirl [GROUP] uncleREYES: I almost wrote cowboy tbh [GROUP] TuandonJuan: what do you mean cowboy, im here all the time darlin [GROUP] uncleREYES: >.> [GROUP] uncleREYES: voice? [GROUP] Bunny: I'll pass [GROUP] GucciB0i: YA BOIIIIIIIIIIII [GROUP] TuandonJuan: anything for you

I slammed the M key, muting my microphone, hearing the honest laugh of my bestfriend and two as loud voices. 

TO: uncleREYES: WHAT THE HELL, SUSAN?!  FROM: uncleREYES: come onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn he mains mccree i love him  TO: uncleREYES: i'm not playing with the bitchass widow  FROM: uncleREYES: he isnt even talking FROM: uncleREYES: please FROM: uncleREYES: i'll buy you cigs TO: uncleREYES: ...

"Hey, you can start, I'm back." I jumped into their conversation, which madly whirled around the best MCCree skin. TuandonJuan's voice made me chuckle, because he'd just found out that Susy also loved the Lifesaver skin the most.  "Is it the best Widowmaker under the sun?" I sort of cringed at the weird accent of the GucciB0i, but I took the compliment, proudly.  "Well, I'm definitely not Bunny, so it has to be me?" I grinned, as Susy started the quickplay queue, relieved that we weren't going to tryhard, because honestly, I felt like I gave everything skillful I had left in the competive game. However, that didn't mean I was going to be an easy prey to make jokes of, still visibly hurt by the offensive humor from the game before.   "Oh, shit, you're my new best friend," GucciB0i's oddly famous deep voice responded. Susy almost immediately grunted back: "Fuck off, would you? The spot is already taken!"  "I hope the spot of your boyfriend isn't taken, uncleREYES, because I'd definitely want to nominate myself." I choked on the sip of coffee, clapping as soon as I placed the cup back at its spot. "Alright, that was just too fucking smooth," I hissed, shaking my head. I felt utterly happy, because Susan deserved an equally disabled person in her life, to weight off all the bad events from the past. 

FROM: uncleREYES: im FROM: uncleREYES: fucking FROM: uncleREYES: in FROM: uncleREYES: love FROM: uncleREYES: who is that guy TO: uncleREYES: XDDDD idk

"Talking behind our backs, much?" GucciB0i seemed to have ears everywhere.  "Maybe...?" I teasily asked, laughing it off. The silence got quickly filled by TuadonJuan's adoration towards Susy's McHanzo kink. 

It... somehow felt right, yet stupid. Bunny still hadn't spoken and I felt guilty for making fun of him, but the again, he was the same in the competitive. I shrugged it off, mindlessly skipping the songs, finally getting to a slower cover of Adam Levine's Lost Stars from Jungkook.

"Please, don't see, just a boy caught up in dreams and fanta~sies-" I quietly hummed to the rhytm, as we finally joined the Dorado map. I didn't make a big deal about them hearing me sing, because honestly, in the talk of those two it occured to be as effective as hearing of a deaf person. I remained silent for next few seconds, until Jungkook's soft voice reached the refrain.  "Damn, I love that boy." I scoffed. "Who? Who?!" I rolled my eyes for a hunderth time that evening. "Jungkook, who else could I mean?" The only response in suddenly quiet voicechat was careless Susy and her laughing voice. "Girl, you love everyone. You have a pillow with Taehyung's face, Suga in name, Jin on hoodie, you want to rap like Namjoon and dance like Hobi. And now you say you love Jungkook, I'm confused."  "It's not my fault, okay, they are all perfect, shut up!" I whined, covering my blushing face, even though noone could see me, both in the darkness and through the screen.  "Sure, whatever," she chuckled back, paying all of her attention to damage-boosting of TuandonJuan's ass, playing, surprisingly, McCree, again. I picked Ana, thoughtlessly shooting my darts at everything that moved, either reducing or adding up on health. 

The final push seemed to be endless, as we either died or killed during the overtime. Finally finishing charging up my ultimate, I nanoboosed Reaper, who completely cleared out the point of the enemies, scoring a precise teamkill. Briefly realizing it was Bunny, I coughed, trying to somehow sound friendlier than before.

"Good job, bunny boy," I cheered, watching the scenario all over again from his point of view in the play of the game. He seemed to unmute himself, because the icon of him talking showed. I was expecting everything but not what I heard. Listening to the cover of Lost Stars on replay still, I gasped, as Bunny murmured a modest, yet elated: "Thank you very much for your ultimate, Sugasuga." 

For a brief second I couldn't quite believe what I heard.

"Why do you sound exactly like Jungkook?" I said more to myself, than to him, completely amazed by the discovery. "Nah, he doesn't." Susy opposed, visibly still annoyed by his previous behavior.  "I agree, he sounds nothing like the korean dude," TuandonJuan's voice interfered, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "You know BTS?"  I caught him off guard, visibly.  He laughed, embrarassed: "Yeah, my-my little sister won't shut up about them."  I smiled. "That's... well, understandable." 

"Aight, I agree with Sugasuga, though, he has something that makes him sound like Jungkook, but not quit-"  "Can you not compare me to that gaypop shit? Thank you." Bunny's voice went off again, and I scowled. "Did I say something wrong?" 

"Nah, he is... acting like an ass, tonight. You know, periods-" I held back my laughter. Guccib0i was cool, I could give Susy that. "Don't even fucking get me started about the periods, dude," she hissed, and I just legitimately bursted out, together with the others.

[GROUP] Bunny: fuck you too, T

We managed to play a few more games, before we said all the goodnights, and thanks for playing. I turned off the laptop, wiping my eyes, sliding under the cold bedsheets with the phone in my hand. 

forever alone bitch: told you they are not so bad noodle mommy: yeah, BUT im lowkey crushing on Bunny's voice forever alone bitch: wtf noodle mommy: fuck him though, GucciB0i is the S H I T  forever alone bitch: yeah we ship you two noodle mommy: "we"?  forever alone bitch: mark and me noodle mommy: ???? forever alone bitch: last seen a minute ago

Susan was right, though. They didn't seem like bad people. We had some decent laughs and giggles, plus, the GucciB0i turned out to be a pretty huge fanboy of Taehyung. 

Somehow, I couldn't wait for the next night, because that was the time we estabilished as another gaming session. I closed my eyes, hugging Taehyung's stuffed face, with a dorky smile, first time in a while feeling upon satisfied with how the day had ended,