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luvdwkki · 3 months ago

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Hyunjin - Through the lens

Hyunjin x Gn!reader

Word count: 11.3k

Synopsis: Hyunjin, a photographer, finds solace and inspiration in a picturesque village that soon becomes the heart of his world. Back in Seoul, unsettling discoveries make him question the reality of what he experienced.

Hyunjin hadn’t touched his camera in weeks. It sat at the edge of his desk, a thin layer of dust settling over its worn leather strap and gleaming glass lens. He used to not be able to go a full day without taking a photo, but now, every attempt felt flat and uninspired. Frustration gnawed at him. He couldn’t understand why this fog of creative emptiness had descended on him, and the lack of answers only deepened his unease.

Determined to break free of it, Hyunjin tore through his room, rummaging through old photo albums and drawers, hunting for a spark or some long lost reminder of the passion he used to feel. Among the clutter, he stumbled upon a small photograph. Its edges had yellowed, and the colours had faded with time, but he recognised it instantly. It had been a gift from an elderly photographer he’d met at a gallery a couple years ago when Hyunjin was still fresh-faced and hungry for experience. Back then, the man had told him, “Whenever you get lost or need to feel free again, go here. This place has a tendency to make people feel found.’

Hyunjin held the photo up to the light, studying it. The picture was of a quaint town nestled away from the world, its cobbled streets winding between colourful houses with flowers spilling from every windowsill. The town looked quiet, untouched by time, like it had secrets only a few had ever learned. Just looking at it stirred something inside him, a faint echo of the thrill he used to feel when he picked up his camera. He knew he couldn't ignore it. If he didn’t act now, he feared he would lose his love for photography forever.

Impulsively, he packed a small bag, tossing in essentials alongside his once beloved camera. Within hours, he was on a plane, his heart pounded with a nervous excitement he hadn’t felt in years. The flight was long, but he didn't mind. He gazed out of the window, watching clouds drift by as he imagined what awaited him in that town. It wasn’t just a place he was flying to; it was a glimmer of hope.

When he landed, he took a winding bus ride through rolling hills and forests, the road twisting and turning until he could finally see the town appearing below in the soft glow of dusk. By the time he reached the tiny motel, the sun had set, and the town was bathed in the warm, golden light of street lamps and shop signs. Exhausted but content, he checked in and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. The promise of a new beginning easing him into a dream.

The next morning, he woke up with the sun streaming through the thin blinds, filling his room with a gentle warmth. After a quick breakfast at a small cafe nearby, he slung his camera over his shoulder and set off to explore. The town was just as enchanting as the photo had promised. Narrow streets wound through rows of brightly painted houses, flower boxes bursting with colour at every turn. Market stalls lined the main square, selling fresh produce, handmade crafts, and little trinkets that caught the light.

Hyunjin didn’t reach for his camera right away. Instead, he let himself get lost in the rhythm of the town, feeling the cobblestone beneath his feet and inhaling the scents of blooming flowers and fresh bread. He stopped to chat with the locals, even sharing a laugh with an old man who teased him about his tourist’s curiosity. As the day wore on, he took a few photos. Portraits of shopkeepers, a child chasing a cat down an alley, the vibrant colours of the market stalls, but the inspiration he sought still eluded him.

Returning to his motel that evening, Hyunjin felt a strange sense of peace. While he hadn’t yet rekindled his creative fire, he felt lighter and more hopeful than he had in weeks. He fell asleep wondering what tomorrow would bring, feeling closer to rediscovering himself with every step he took in this little town that seemed to wait patiently for him to find his way back to his art.

On his third day in town, Hyunjin decided to explore the outskirts, hoping the untouched landscape might stir the inspiration he’d been searching for. He spent a couple of hours wandering narrow trails that led through groves of trees and open meadows, his camera swinging idly by his side, waiting for the right moment. Still, no shot felt right. Nothing seemed to spark the connection he craved.

Then, as he walked along the shaded path, he came upon a willow tree standing beside a large, serene pond. Its long, wispy branches cascaded towards the water, swaying gently in the breeze. It was peaceful, a place seemingly untouched by time, and Hyunjin decided it would be a perfect spot to take a break. As he approached the tree, he noticed he was not alone.

You were seated beneath the large tree on a neatly laid blanket, your figure partially hidden by the hanging branches. You looked deep in thought, your gaze fixed on the still waters of the pond, your hair flowing in soft waves, being lifted slightly by the breeze. There was a quiet grace about you, an unspoken depth that intrigued him. Hyunjin felt his breath catch. There was something so captivating about your solitude – the way you seemed to blend with the landscape as if you belonged there more than any human ever could.

Without much thought, he lifted his camera, adjusting the focus to capture your presence within the tranquil setting. But just as he pressed the shutter, the sound of the camera echoed louder than expected. Your head turned sharply in his direction, your eyes wide with surprise.

Hyunjin quickly lowered his camera, his face flushing as he stammered, “I'm so sorry… I didn't mean to startle you. I just… couldn't miss the perfect shot.”

A small smile played on your lips, the surprise fading from your expression. “It’s okay,” you replied, glancing back towards the water with a soft chuckle. “I guess I was just lost in thought.”

He couldn't help but notice the way you spoke, your voice gentle but clear, each word carrying a quiet warmth. For a moment, Hyunjin found himself lost again, this time in your calm presence. He felt an urge to know you, to understand the stories behind your serene expression.

“Im Hyunjin,” his voice was hesitant yet hopeful, as if fearing he might break the delicate spell between you.

You turned back to him, your voice widening slightly. “Nice to meet you, Hyunjin.” Your tone was light but kind, and there was a spark in your gaze that made his heart race unexpectedly.

For a moment, silence settled between you, filled only by the whisper of a breeze rustling the willow leaves. Trying to fill the space, he asked, “So, what brings you out here all alone?”

You looked back at the water, a hint of something reflective in your eyes. “I just needed a little air,” you said softly. “It’s peaceful here… gives me room to think.”

You paused, then glanced at the empty spot beside you. “Would you like to sit?” a slight curiosity in your tone.

Hyunjin nodded quickly, perhaps a bit too eagerly, and sat down beside you, careful not to disturb the tranquillity of your small space. He could still feel the lingering embarrassment from earlier but was relieved that you didn’t seem bothered. You turned to him, the warmth of your smile easing his nerves.

“So what brings you to this town?” you asked, your eyes alight with genuine interest.

Hyunjin hesitated for a moment before sharing the story of his recent struggle with his art, the way he’d felt lost and disconnected until he’d found the photograph that had brought him here. You listened intently, nodding at each turn, your expression one of understanding that made him feel oddly comforted.

When he finished, he asked, “And what about you? Do you come here often?”

“I grew up here,” you said with a fondness lacing your words. “This place is part of me. It’s home, even when I need to step away from it. I guess you could say it keeps me floating.”

You both continued to talk as the minutes slipped by, sharing small pieces of your lives. With each word, Hyunjin felt himself becoming more and more captivated by you. It wasn’t just your words but the way you held yourself, the quiet strength and calmness that seemed to radiate from you.

Eventually, you glanced at the sky, a reluctant look crossing your face. “I should probably head off now,” you said, standing up and dusting off your blanket.

Hyunjin felt a strange pang as you packed up your things, an emptiness he hadn’t anticipated. He realised he didn’t even know your name, yet he felt as if he’d known you for far longer than these few minutes. He wanted to ask you to stay, or to at least meet again, but the words caught in his throat.

With one last smile, you looked at him. “It was nice meeting you, Hyunjin,” you said softly before turning to walk away, leaving him under the willow tree with only the photo of you and the quiet ripples of the pond.

As he watched you go, Hyunjin felt something inside him shift. This peaceful place had reignited something he thought he’d lost. For the first time in a long while, he lifted his camera again, capturing the scene as if to hold onto the moment forever.

Hyunjin returned to the town that evening, trying to take more photos of the colourful marketplace and the winding streets. Yet no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on his surroundings, he couldn't get you out of his mind. The memory of your gentle smile or your thoughtful gaze on the pond–you lingered in his thoughts like a haunting melody. As the evening shadows stretched off the cobbled paths, Hyunjin resigned himself to the quiet of his motel room, though sleep came slowly, the image of you at the willow tree etched vividly in his mind.

The next day, he rose early and wandered the town again, hoping to recapture the inspiration he felt slipping through his fingers. As he meandered through the bustling plaza, weaving between vendors setting up their vibrant wares, he saw you. You were strolling near the far edge of the square, a woven basket hanging from your arms. Before he could even think, his legs carried him forward. Your eyes widened with surprise when you saw him, followed by a delighted smile.

“You again,” you teased, your eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Yeah, I… well, I couldn’t leave without another photo,” he replied, his voice uncertain but sincere. You laughed, and he felt the last traces of his nervousness melt away.

“Well then, come on,” you said, gesturing for him to walk with you. You left the bustling plaza and wandered into the countryside beyond the town, a quiet path that opened up to a vast expanse of wildflower fields stretching out in every direction. The flowers were in full bloom, petals painting the landscape in rich hues of lavender, gold, and crimson. Hyunjin could smell their faint, sweet perfume in the air. The trail found its way through the field, and soon you arrived at a gentle stream where wild grasses leaned over the water’s edge.

“Spring is special here,” you murmured, motioning to the lively stream, where tiny fish darted beneath the surface and dragonflies skimmed over the water. “It wakes everything up.”

Hyunjin nodded, taking in every word, though he found himself more captivated by your voice than the scene you were describing. You pointed out small animals hidden among the reeds, such as a small family of ducks waddling near the shore, or the heron standing gracefully on one leg. He just studied you, noticing the way your face lit up with each new sight.

“Do you know much about them?” you asked suddenly, your question breaking him out of his trance.

Hyunjin realised he’d barely listened, too lost in watching you. You tilted your head, giving him a curious look, and he felt his face flush. He quickly nodded, managing a quiet “Mhm…”

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, but you let it slide, continuing your stories of the stream’s wildlife as you walked. You seemed to know every detail of the land, from the tiniest insects to the habits of the foxes that visited at dusk. Hyunjin listened, caught between fascination with your words and the growing warmth he felt in your presence.

After a while, his stomach growled softly, causing him to laugh in embarrassment. “I guess I should've packed a lunch.”

You gave him a playful look before opening your basket and pulling out two neatly wrapped sandwiches, handing one to him with a smile. “Lucky for you, I came prepared.”

You found a low tree with sturdy branches, and quickly climbed onto one with ease, patting the spot beside you. Hyunjin joined you, unwrapping the sandwich as you sat there, legs swinging like carefree children. You ate in a comfortable silence, surrounded by the soft murmur of the stream and the hum of distant wildlife.

Once you had finished eating, you lingered on the branch, talking about the town and sharing stories and memories of your lives. He learnt that you spent most afternoons in the fields, seeking out little pockets of peace away from the noise of the town. You described how the landscape transformed with each season, your eyes lighting up with each memory you shared. As you spoke, he felt himself drawn more and more into your world, sensing the way you saw beauty in the smallest things.

The hours slipped by until, eventually, you both realised you should head back. You hopped off the branch, brushing loose bark from your pants, and he followed you down the winding paths leading towards town. You walked slowly, the conversation more thoughtful now, until you finally reached the familiar streets.

As you parted ways, Hyunjin felt a sense of reluctance, wishing he had a reason to keep walking with you, just a bit longer. But with one last wave and a smile, you disappeared into the busy street, leaving him with a strange ache in his chest and a new kind of inspiration stirring within him.

For the first time in a while, Hyunjin felt the urge to capture more than just a photograph; he wanted to capture a feeling, a memory that would linger long after he’d left this place.

The next morning, Hyunjin was up early, determined to find you again. He wandered through the village’s winding streets, scanning each corner and side street, hoping for a glimpse of your familiar figure. He checked the plaza, the cafe, even the quiet paths by the outskirts, but you were nowhere to be found. The entire day passed in a blur as he thought of little else, his mind replaying every word and expression, every smile and laugh that you had shared. That night he lay awake, formulating a plan — a way to spend more time with you — to capture this rare, exhilarating feeling and keep it alive as long as he could.

That night, sleep was elusive. His mind was a storm of excitement, anticipation, and a nervous energy that kept him awake well into the early hours. By the time he finally drifted off, the sky was already beginning to show its rosy hues.

The next morning, he woke up in a panic, immediately glancing at the clock. He’d overslept, and by the time he left his room, the village was already alive with activity. He strolled through the narrow streets, feeling disappointed and convinced he might have missed his chance. But as he wandered past the plaza, a familiar figure caught his eye. You were sitting by the fountain in the middle of the square, your head bowed slightly as you stared at the water, lost in thought.

A smile broke across his face as he watched you, your figure bathed in the soft glow of midday sun, and he couldn’t resist capturing the moment. Without a second thought, he lifted his camera, capturing your profile as you sat quietly, unaware of his presence. There was something in your stillness, an elegance that he couldn’t quite put into words but felt compelled to preserve in the frame. After a few shots, he put the camera down and made his way over, tapping your shoulder gently.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, feigning a casual air as though he were a stranger passing by.

You looked up, surprised but pleased, your smile warm as you gestured to the spot beside you. “Of course,” you said, shifting slightly to make room for him. You sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, each lost in your own thoughts. The sounds of the town filled the air. Children laughing, merchants calling out their wares, the soft splash of the fountain’s water.

Eventually, you broke the silence, your voice thoughtful. “It’s funny, isn't it? How the town feels so alice in spring, but in winter, it almost seems… frozen in time.”

Hyunjin nodded, sensing there was more you wanted to share. Your eyes lingered on the fountain, and there was a wistfulness to your gaze.

“I love it here,” you continued. “It’s my home, and it always will be. But sometimes… I wonder what else is out there.” Your words hung in the air, and Hyunjin could hear the faintest edge of sadness to your tone. “You're lucky,” you added, glancing at him. “You get to see so much of the world. I’m…well, I'm just here.”

Your honesty surprised him. He had assumed you were content with your quiet life, rooted in this picturesque town. But there you were, longing for places you had never seen, paths you had never walked. He tried to reassure you, saying “It’s not too late. You could leave, too.”

You shook your head slowly, a bittersweet smile spreading across your lips. “No, I couldn’t. This is where I belong. I don't think I know how to leave, even if I wanted to.”

Hearing the resignation in your voice stirred something in Hyunjin. You seemed bound to this place, your roots deep in the soil of your home, yet your heart ached for something more. He sensed a longing to share with you a glimpse of the beauty he had seen in the world. Impulsively, he reached for your hand, his fingers curling gently around yours. Your gaze lifted in surprise, but you didn’t pull away; your eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and trust.

“Come with me,” he said, a newfound confidence lending strength to his words. Without another word, he guided you away from the plaza, through the narrow streets and out towards the edge of town.

You walked in a companionable silence along a hidden trail he’d discovered through a conversation with a local. He led you up a small incline, past dense trees and flowering shrubs, your hand warm in his as you journeyed through the soft underbrush. After a short but winding trek, you emerged into a secluded clearing. Before you laid a waterfall, cascading down smooth rocks into a clear pool below, its waters glinting in the afternoon sunlight.

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight, a breathless smile spreading across your face. “I’ve lived here my whole life,” you murmured, “But I had no idea this was here.”

Hyunjin watched you, captivated by your awe. You seemed to radiate with the same beauty as the scene around you, and for a moment, he felt as if he were seeing you for the first time. The sun casted a golden glow over you, illuminating the spark in your eyes and the subtle curve of your lips as you looked around in wonder. To him, you were the most beautiful part of the entire landscape.

You wandered closer to the water’s edge, laughing softly as you spotted a group of butterflies fluttering nearby. You crouched down, extending your hand as one of them landed gently on your fingertip. Hyunjin had no choice but to lift his camera, capturing your delicate smile and the sunlit waterfall shimmering behind you. He couldn’t help but take a few more photos, capturing your wonder and delight. Each slot felt like a small treasure, a memory he wanted to keep alive forever.

You wandered around the waterfall, watching the small creatures that made their homes there— a white rabbit sprinting into the bushes, a red squirrel darting up a tree, tiny birds fluttering their wings between branches. But Hyunjin could hardly focus on any of it. His gaze kept drifting back to you.

Finally, you sat by the water’s edge, side by side, your shoulders nearly touching. The sound of the rushing water filled the air, but between you, there was a comfortable silence. You turned to him, a grateful smile on your lips, and he felt the weight of your gaze like a warmth that reached straight to his heart.

“Thank you.” You said softly, your voice filled with an emotion he couldn't quite place.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm shine over the clearing, you made your way back to the town. Hand in hand, you walked together, Hyunjin feeling a sense of peace he hadn’t experienced in a long time. As you reached the village, he realised that this little corner of the world held something far greater than he'd ever expected.

The evening air was tinged with the faint aroma of blooming flowers as you both lingered, just for a moment, beneath the soft glow of the streetlamp. You looked at him, your gaze steady and warm. “Meet me at the stream tomorrow around 11,” you said with a small smile, your voice carrying a hint of mystery. With one last glance, you turned to walk down the cobblestone road, leaving Hyunjin standing there, heart fluttering in his chest.

That night, sleep evaded him. He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, replaying the way you looked at him, the softness of your voice, the invitation in your words. Every thought of you filled his chest in a quiet happiness, and by the time he finally drifted off, his mind was full with dreams of the stream and the promise of seeing you again.

He woke up at dawn, hours too early, unable to keep himself from the thrill of the day ahead. He got dressed slowly, choosing his clothes with great care, and ate a small breakfast to settle his nerves. Finally, as the clock ticked closer to 11, he set off, feeling the warm rays of sun on his back as he walked through the wildflower fields towards the stream.

When he reached the water’s edge, his heart sank. The gentle trickle of the stream was the only sound to be heard, and you were nowhere to be seen. He kept glancing around, his excitement quickly fading into disappointment. Just as he was about to turn around, he noticed a figure across the stream, lying on a soft patch of grass, gazing up at the pearly white clouds.

It was you.

You laid sprawled out on the grass, one arm behind your head and the other resting across your stomach. Your eyes were closed and your face was relaxed, your expression almost serene. The sunlight cast a golden glow across your skin, and you looked as if you were part of the landscape itself, a piece of this quiet paradise. Hyunjin’s hand rushed to his camera, lifting it to his eye, capturing you from afar, framing the curve of your face, the peacefulness in your expression, the way the soft light danced around you. He took a few quiet shots, smiling as he lowered the camera, unable to tear his eyes away from you.

There was something about you… a presence, a quiet strength, a beauty that felt otherworldly. Each day you spent together drew him further into your orbit, and he found himself marvelling at how effortlessly you seemed to capture his every thought.

Realising he’d have to cross the stream to join you, he looked down at the wide body of water separating them, assessing his options. The rocks looked slippery, and the stream was deceptively deep in some parts. He considered looking for a branch or some sort of makeshift bridge, half-laughing at the lengths he was willing to go just to avoid wet feet.

He was mid-search, crouched over a pile of sticks when he heard a soft laugh. Looking up, he saw you gazing back at him from across the stream, a curious smile tugging at your lips.

“Need some help there?” you called out, amusement clear in your voice. A blush crept across his cheeks as he straightened, giving you an embarrassed smile.

“Just… planning my route,” he replied, sheepish.

You stood up, brushing bits of grass from your legs and waded into the stream without hesitation. The water lapped at your bare ankles as you moved towards him, your shorts rolled up just above your knees, your steps sure and graceful. The sound of the water splashing softly around you filled the air, and Hyunjin watched, momentarily mesmerised as you approached him.

“Scared to get wet?” you teased, stopping just a few feet away, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

He chuckled, quickly recovering. “No, just trying to protect the camera,” he said, lifting it slightly as though to defend his excuse. “Can't risk it getting wet.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping even closer, until your face was mere centimetres from his, your gaze looked onto his. Hyunjin felt his heart stutter, his pulse racing as he met your eyes. Your face was so close, he could feel your breath, warm against his skin, your expression full of intent.

In one swift motion, you reached out, snatching the camera from his hands, and darted back across the stream, genuine laughter spilling from your lips. Hyunjin stood frozen in surprise, watching as you reached the other side, grinning triumphantly as you held the camera aloft.

“Hey!” he called, his voice tinged with laughter. You flashed him a mischievous smile, the sun catching the glint of your eyes.

“Should’ve just worn shorts like me!” you shouted back, waving the camera. Your laughter was harmonious, and Hyunjin couldn’t help but smile, feeling his heart swell with affection.

With a sigh of playful defeat, he set his shoes and socks aside, rolling up the bottom of his jeans to his knees. Tentatively, he stepped into the stream, the water frigid yet refreshing against his skin. You watched him from your side of the bank, your laughter softening as he made his way across.

He took slow, tentative steps into the stream, eyes focused on the rocks beneath him as he playfully navigated the water, each step cautious to avoid slipping. The cool stream tickled his ankles, and he winced as the water seeped higher, inching towards the rolled-up hem of his jeans. You watched him with a smile, setting his camera safely on a dry patch of grass away from the water before coming to his side.

“It's really not that cold,” you said, giving him an encouraging smile as you knelt down to scoop up a handful of water, letting it trickle through your fingers.

He nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, it's nothing,” he replied, though the water’s chill was starting to make him shiver slightly.

You looked at him with a delinquent glint in your eye. “What's that?” you asked, your gaze fixed on something just over his shoulder.

He glanced back instinctively, only to feel a sudden splash of icy water against his back. The shock jolted him, and he straightened with a gasp, feeling the cold seep through his shirt as a gasp escaped your lips. Slowly, he turned back to face you, and there you were, grinning widely, your eyes dancing with pure mischief.

He genuinely felt like his heart might burst as he looked at you, the playful glint in your eyes making him smile despite the chill running down his spine. You didn’t waste a second before gathering another handful of water, tossing it at him with a delighted laugh.

“Oh, it's on.” He laughed as he kicked his leg, sending a wide spray of water your way, drenching you in a sudden wave. You shrieked, laughing as the water splashed over you, soaking the front of your shirt and sending your hair tumbling in wet waves over your head. Hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh, the sound of your delighted squeals filling the air around you.

You weren’t about to let him with that easily, though. Bracing yourself, you used your foot to send another splash in his direction, water arching towards him as he lifted his hands in mock defence. Before you could gather more water, he lunged forward, closing the distance between the two of you in an instant. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he lifted you off the ground, spinning playfully as you smiled, your laughter ringing out in joyous peals that echoed across the stream.

He carried you into the middle of the stream, your laughter mixing with the bubbling of the water and the gentle rustling of leaves overhead. You kicked playfully, your arms wrapping around his neck as he finally set you down, your faces close as you both struggled to catch your breath between giggles.

Just as he let you go, your foot slipped on a wet rock, and with a yelp, you fell back, splashing down into the shallow water, your arms flailing as you tried — and failed — to steady yourself. You landed with a splash, your clothes soaked, and for a split second, the laughter stopped. Hyunjin froze, watching you with wide eyes, worry etched across his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hand immediately extended towards you, concern evident in his eyes.

A wicked smile spread across your face as you took his hand, your grip firm as you tugged him down towards you with surprising strength. Before he could react, he was tumbling forward, splashing down beside you in the cool water. For a moment, he was stunned, the cold soaking through his clothes as you burst in laughter, your face alight with pure joy. He joined in, the laughter ringing through the clearing as you began splashing each other with abandon, the water flying as you playfully fought your way across the shallow stream.

Minutes passed, all the laughter echoing in quiet solitude around you. Eventually, as your energy waned, you waded back to the grassy patch near the water's edge, both of you soaked to the skin, hair dripping as you flopped down onto the sunlit grass, lying side by side, gazing up at the sky.

The warm sun beat down on you, drying your clothes slowly as you lay there, side by side, watching the fluffy clouds drift lazily across the sky. You exchanged stories, small secrets, and laughter as the sun climbed higher, casting its warmth over you. Together, you spoke of dreams and favourite memories, of fears and the quiet hopes you held close to your heart. You told him about growing up in the village, the little joys and the familiar rhythm of life there, while he shared stories of his travels, the places he’d been to and the adventures he’d had.

As the afternoon sun reached its peak, Hyunjin felt an overwhelming sense of peace settle over him. Lying there on the grass, side by side, with no rush and no expectations, you simply enjoyed each other’s presence, as though the world beyond the stream had faded away, leaving only the two of you and this perfect, sunlit moment.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in an array of deep purples and warm oranges that stretched like watercolour strokes across the landscape. Hyunjin’s camera clicked rhythmically, capturing the last golden rays as you two bathed the town in a soft, dreamlike glow. He paused for a moment, turning his lens towards you as you stood by the edge of the path, your hair catching the evening breeze. You looked beautiful, framed by the colours of twilight, and he couldn’t resist reserving that fleeting beauty.

As you made your way back into town, the gentle hum of the evening settled around you two. Streetlights began to flicker to life, their warm glow casting dancing shadows across the rocky streets. The town bustled with soft laughter and the chanter of people heading home, mingling with the faint melodies of a street musician strumming an old guitar.

Hyunjin glanced at you, an unspoken question shimmering in his eyes. He took a deep breath, trying to sound casual. “Would you stay with me tonight? We could watch the stars together and talk until morning.”

You paused, your gaze softening as you looked at him. A hint of regret flickered across your expression, and you gave him a gentle smile. “I can’t tonight, Hyunjin,” you said softly, your voice tinged with a quiet sadness.

A brief pang of disappointment bloomed in Hyunjin’s chest, but he quickly swallowed it down, curving his lips into an understanding smile. “That's okay,” he replied, his tone light. “Maybe another time.”

You walked side by side through the town, the comfortable conversation between you being punctuated by the distant hoot of an owl and the rustling of leaves. Hyunjin’s heart ached a little; the desire to be closer, to cross that invisible line between friendship and something more was gnawing at him. Yet he pushed that feeling aside, content to be simply near you.

The following days passed in a blue of laughter and shared moments that felt suspended in time. Together, you explored every nook and cranny of the village, from the bustling market where you sampled sweet pastries and admired handcrafted trinkets to the quiet meadow behind the old church where life bloomed in a riot of colour. The air between you cracked with a subtle electronic tension — each accidental touch and shared glance heavy with meaning.

One afternoon, you tugged at his sleeve, a playful grin lighting up your face. “Come with me,” you said, excitement sparkling in your eyes. You led him through narrow, winding roads to a small, stone fronted bakery tucked between two larger shops. The scent of fresh bread and sugar wafted out to greet you, warm and inviting.

“This is where I work,” you said, your voice brimming with pride. Hyunjin’s eyes widened in surprise as you pushed open the wooden door, ushering him inside. The bakery was cosy, large shelves lined with golden loaves, pastries glazed with sugar, and cakes that looked almost too beautiful to eat.

“Choose anything you like,” you said, slipping behind the counter, grabbing tongs before staring back at him. His heart swelled at the sight of you, framed by the warm glow of the bakery, the soft light catching in your eyes.

He pointed to a delicate looking pastry, making you chuckle. “Good choice,” you said, handing it to him with a wink. You sat at a small table in the corner, sharing bites and trading sentences as the afternoon filtered through the windows, casting golden patches across your faces.

The moment felt perfect — simple, sweet, and filled with an unspoken connection that made Hyunjin’s pulse quicker. As you laughed and talked, surrounded by the comforting scent of baked goods, he felt the romantic tension between the two of you deepen, like a song waiting for its crescendo.

Every evening, as the sun dipped low and painted the village in warm hues, Hyunjin would pull out his camera, capturing the moments that made up these perfect days. But no photograph could capture the way his chest tightened when you laughed or the quiet longing that settled between you as you walked through the lit streets.

Your days were filled with joy, yet the feelings hung between you like an unsaid promise, waiting for the right moment to be spoken aloud.

Hyunjin could feel the weight of impending departure pressing on his chest, a dull ache that grew with each passing hour. The small town, once just a place on a map, had become a part of him, woven with memories that, at this moment, felt bittersweet. It wasn’t just the winding streets or the sun kissed fields that made leaving so hard — it was you. The one who had turned his days into something extraordinary. He wished, with silent desperation, that time would stop, but no amount of hoping could change the inevitably of his departure.

The morning of his last day arrived, a cruel uncertainty settling over him like a shadow. He kept the knowledge buried deep, unwilling to burden you with the same weight that made his heart heavy. He moved through the hours as if in a dream, visiting familiar places and capturing their essence through the lens of his camera, but none of it brought him the comfort it once did.

As the sun began its leisurely descent, casting the sky in the hues of amber that rose that he had gotten to know so well, Hyunjin made his way to the bakery. The bell above the door chimed as he stepped inside, and there you were, apron dusted with flour, a smudge on your cheek that made him smile despite the lump forming in his throat. You looked up, your eyes brightening as they found him, unaware of the storm brewing behind his steady gaze.

“Ready to go?” you asked, untying your apron and setting it aside. The warmth in your voice and the way you looked at him as if he belonged there — it made everything harder.

“Yeah,” he managed, his voice softer than usual. He reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as you walked out into the golden light of the evening.

You wandered down the familiar path that led to the willow tree, the leaves rustling in the soft breeze as if whispering their secrets. The pond mirrored the warm colours of the sky, it’s surface glistening with a gentle shimmer. It was where you had first met, where the story between you had begun, and now it seemed it would be where it came full circle.

You settled into the roots of the tree, the quietness between you not uncomfortable but thick with meaning. The sun dipped lower, casting a halo of light that danced across the water. You leaned back, your eyes tracing the leaves as they drifted lazily, unaware of the truth he was about to speak.

Hyunjin looked at you, the words tangled in his chest, each one sharp and aching. Finally, he let out a breath and said, “This is my last day here.”

The silence that followed was different, sharp and brittle. You turned towards him, disbelief shadowing your expression. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” your voice trembled.

He swallowed hard, searching your eyes and finding a mixture of hurt and confusion. “I didn’t want it to be real,” he said, his voice cracking with the weight of it. “I thought maybe if I didn’t say it out loud, it wouldn’t come true.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, but you brushed it away with an angry hand. “That’s not fair, Hyunjin,” you said, a sharp edge to your tone. “I deserved to know.”

“I know,” he whispered, guilt lacing through him. He reached for your hand, but you pulled away, the movement breaking something inside him. “I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you.

“Well, you did,” the rawness in your voice matching the ache in your chest. The willow’s leaves swayed around you, casting dappled shadows that seemed to echo the heaviness of your conversation.

A tear welled up in his eye, blurring his vision as he looked at you. “I don't want it to end like this. I care about you more than anything, and it’s tearing me apart to leave.”

You stood up, the movement abrupt, your eyes blazing with a mixture of heartbreak and frustration. For a moment, Hyunjin feared you were going to walk away without another word. But then, you turned back to him, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, eyes glistening as you asked “Are you sure you care about me?”

The question struck him like a physical blow. “Of course I care about you,” he replied, his voice low but urgent, filled with concern and confusion. “How could you even think–”

“Then why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you interrupted, tears brimming your eyes, threatening to spill over. “Why did you keep this from me if I meant anything to you?”

“Because I was scared,” he admitted, the words tumbling out, raw and exposed. “I didn’t want to see that look on your face! The one you're giving me now.”

You laughed, a bitter and broken sound, and the tears finally escaped down your cheek. “And yet here we are,” you said, wiping your now wet face with a shaky hand. Your gaze dropped for a moment before coming back up, piercing him with its intensity. “You never even asked for my name, Hyunjin.”

His heart clenched, guilt twisting through him like a knife. “It’s not that I didnt care enough to ask,” he expressed, taking a step forward, trying to close the space between you. “It’s just… I felt like I already knew you. Like your name wasn’t just a word but something I already carried here.” He pressed his hand to his chest, eyes pleading with yours. “I was too afraid that asking would make it feel real, that acknowledging it would make me fall even harder, and then this —” he gestured helplessly between you two, the air crackling with unspoken words,”–- would hurt even more.”

You turned, taking a few uneasy steps away from him, and he felt his chest tighten with panic. He reached out, grabbing your hand before you could move any further. The touch froze you in place, and though you didn’t turn, he could see your shoulders shaking as more tears fell.

“Wait!” his voice cracked with emotion. “Please, just listen.” He drew in a breath, his throat tight, his heart pounding with a mix of desperation and raw honesty. “You have to know how much I care about you. I know the sound of your laugh, how it changes when something really makes you happy, and how you tilt your head just a bit when you’re really listening to someone. I know how your eyes catch the sunlight when you talk about your dreams and how your smile softens when you’re lost in thought.”

He took a shaky breath, trying to keep the surge of emotion in check. “I remember every time you tucked that stray piece of hair behind your ear, not knowing how much it made my heart race. I know the way your voice wavers when you’re about to admit something close to your heart, and the way you hold back tears even when you don’t need to be strong. I noticed the scent of freshly baked cookies that lingers on you from the bakery, the way your fingertips are dusted with flour when you’re in a rush.”

Tears welled up in his own eyes as he spoke, each word a step deeper into his vulnerable heart. “I know the way you pause to watch the sky as if you’re searching for something beyond the clouds and how your entire face lights up when you’re caught up in a story or memory. I know all these little things because every second with you, I’ve been memorising them, afraid I’d have to leave and forget even one.”

You stood frozen, tears now streaming down your cheeks as you absorbed the weight of his confession. He stepped closer, his voice trembling but resolute. “Leaving now feels like tearing away from everything that's made me feel alive for the first time in so long. I never asked for your name because I was terrified that knowing it would make it impossible to let go.”

Your eyes softened, the wall of hurt between them crumbling under the weight of his words. Without saying a word, you took another step closer, searching his face for any trace of insincerity. All you could find was the unguarded truth, etched in every line of his expression.

With a suddenness that made his heart stutter, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. The first touch was tentative, almost hesitant, as if testing the fragile connection between you. Hyunjin’s breath caught in his throat, and the world seemed to still, holding its breath around you. The taste of you was both familiar and sweet, a mix of warmth and the faintest hint of cinnamon from the bakery.

As the initial shock melted away, he responded by deepening the kiss with a slow, careful intensity that spoke of every unspoken word and unfulfilled wish. His hands found your waist, fingers brushing against the fabric of your shirt as though it was the most delicate thing he’d ever touched. You leaned into him, your own hands trembling as they came to rest on his shoulders, holding on as if to anchor yourself in the moment.

Time felt irrelevant; the cool breeze rustling the leaves above and the golden hues became a backdrop to the raw emotion between you. The kiss shifted from hesitant to certain, your lips moving together in a dance that spoke of longing, desperation, and a promise that defied the reality of your impending parting. It was a kiss filled with everything you hadn’t said, a final bridge between two hearts that had found each other by chance and were now bound by something neither could quite explain.

When you finally broke apart, your faces lingered close, breaths mingling in the space between. Hyunjin’s eyes searched yours, finding them still wet with tears but now shining with a new depth of understanding. He reached up and gently wiped away a tear with the pad of his thumb, his touch lingering on your skin.

“You have no idea how much this moment means to me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his words seep into your heart before opening them again, your gaze tender but filled with the bittersweet truth that this moment, however perfect, might be your last for a long while.

As your breath steadied and the weight of the moment settled, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him in an embrace that felt like it could seal the cracks of your heart. Hyunjin hugged you back, pulling you close as if he could imprint the memory of your warmth into his very being. You stood there for what felt like an eternity, the world around you fading into the background — the rustling of the leaves, the distant hum of the town — all a mere whisper compared to the quiet thrum of your shared heartbeat.

When you finally pulled apart, it was with an unspoken understanding that the night was yours. Hyunjin gently took your hand, guiding you down to the soft grass beneath the willow tree. The moon had risen higher, casting the world in a dusky glow that seemed to embrace you in its shallow light. You lay side by side, your fingers brushing against each other as you stared up at the sky through the leaves, which now began to shimmer with its first hints of stars.

A gentle breeze played with his hair, helping you smile softly when a strand ticked his nose. He turned his head to look at you, memorising the way your eyes crinkled at the corners and how the curve of your smile seemed to brighten even the coming night.

“Remember when you tricked me into thinking there was a festival happening in the square, and it turned out to be just you with your basket full of pastries?” he asked, his tone light and the memory evoking a shared laugh. You nodded, eyes glistening with amusement.

“You fell for it so easily! But it was worth it when you kept guessing what kind of pastries I'd brought,” you replied, the mirth in your voice softening as you continued, “I’d never seen anyone so happy over cinnamon rolls.”

You talked about more moments like these — you showing him secret corners of the town where the wildflowers grow in vibrant clusters, or your afternoons spent by the stream tossing stones and sharing stories, and the impromptu dance in the rain that had left you soaked and laughing under the stormy sky. Each memory unfolded between you like chapters in a book, your voices mingling with the chirp of crickets as the sky turned from twilight to deep indigo, scattered with stars.

“Why do these memories feel so big, so… heavy?” you asked, your voice barely above a winter as you turned to him.

Hyunjin reached for your hand, your fingers intertwining as he looked at you with a tender smile. “Because they mean everything,” he said. “Every moment, no matter how small, it all matters.”

Silence fell between you again, comfortable and profound. You laid there, hands clasped, eyes drifting from the sky above to the features of each other’s faces, illuminated by the soft starlight. The night air cooled, but neither of you rushed to go inside; you were content to stay, to hold on to every second of this final night, filling it with whispers, stolen glances, and the unspoken wish that time could somehow stand still.

Hyunjin shifted slightly so that he could draw you even closer to him. The night air whispered through the leaves of the willow tree, but in each other's arms, you felt only warmth. You nestled into his chest, draping one leg over his, as if to anchor yourself to this moment that neither of you wanted to let slip away. Your bodies fit together naturally, the rise and fall of your chests synchronising like a silent conversation spoken only in heartbeats.

With one arm wrapped securely under your head, Hyunjin lifted his other hand to gently trace the line of your jaw. His touch was gentle, reverent, as if committing each contour to memory. He tilted your face upward, your eyes meeting in a gaze that held everything. The stars above seemed to watch over you; their light pale in comparison to the spark that flickered between you.

Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was soft yet full of the intensity of leaving. It lingered, carrying the weight of the promises you wished you could make, the longing that neither voice. When you broke apart, he kept his eyes closed for a moment, savouring the feel of you so close, the taste of a dreadful goodbye.

With a soft smile, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger as if to imprint the gesture into the space between them. You sighed contentedly, nuzzling further into his chest; the sound was like music to his ears — a melody he'd keep long after this night.

You both settled back into the embrace, limbs entwined, and your bodies bolded together as if you were two halves of the same whole. The surrounding sounds faded into the gentle rustle of the leaves and the rhythmic murmur of your breathing. Your fingers traced light patterns on his chest as your eyelids grow heavy, the exhaustion of the day finally overtaking you.

Hyunjin felt your body relax, and he smiled as sleep began to claim him too. The last conscious thought he had was of the way you felt against him — safe, cherished, and heartbreakingly fleeting. He tightened his hold just slightly, as if to keep the dawn from stealing you away too soon, and then, with your hearts beating as one, together you drifted off into a sleep that felt both peaceful and poignant.

The first rays of dawn filtered through the thin, whispering branches of the willow tree, casting a dappled golden glow across the ground. Hyunjin stirred, his eyes fluttering open as the memory of the night before settled like a bittersweet weight in his chest. The warmth that had cradled him as he slept was gone, replaced by the cool, empty space where you had been.

He sat up quickly, scanning the small clearing. The dew-damp grass was undisturbed, and there was no trace of you — not even the soft indentation where you had laid. A pang of loss shot through him, sharp and sudden, catching him off guard. His breath hitched as the realisation sank in: you had left.

The silence around him was deafening. The soft rustle of the leaves seemed almost mocking, a gentle reminder that the world moved on, indifferent to the ache that now gnawed at his heart. Hyunjin ran a hand through his tousled hair, the gesture rougher than intended, as if trying to shake the emptiness away. He wanted to believe that you’d left to spare you both the agony of goodbye, but it didn’t lessen the sting. If anything, it made it sharper, more personal.

Pushing himself to his feet, he glanced back at the willow tree, its long tendrils swaying gently as if bidding him farewell. The place that had held so much joy and hope now felt hollow, like an echo of what had been. He swallowed hard, a bitter taste in his mouth, before turning away and walking back toward the town.

The streets were already beginning to stir with early risers. The bakery was opening, the familiar scent wafting into the crisp morning air, but it brought no comfort as you weren’t there. Each step felt heavier as he approached the small motel where he’d been staying. It all seemed so mundane now, so void of the magic that had filled his days with you.

Packing his belongings was mechanical. The room that had once felt like a safe haven now felt suffocating. He stuffed his camera into his bag, careful not to let the precious film be jostled, each roll holding memories that were already starting to feel like dreams. His eyes stung, and he blinked quickly, unwilling to let the tears fall.

With his bag slung over his shoulder, Hyunjin took one last look at the village, the place that had changed him in ways he hadn’t expected. Then, without a word, he walked to the bus stop, the weight of departure pressing down on him.

The journey back to Korea was a blur, punctuated only by the steady thrum of the plane’s engines and the hollow ache that seemed to grow with each passing mile. When he arrived home, the familiar sights of Seoul did little to lift his spirits. The bustling city, with its endless energy and noise, felt strangely detached from him. It was as if he were walking through a film, present but not truly there.

Hyunjin dropped his bags in the corner of his apartment, pausing to glance at the framed photos on the wall. Images of friends and family stared back at him, but they failed to spark any joy. He sighed, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. The echo of your laughter, the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention — it all replayed in his mind like a haunting symphony.

The emptiness settled deeper, and for the first time, he realised just how much you had become a part of him. And now, without you, Seoul — the place he had always called home — felt strangely foreign.

Days in Seoul blurred into each other like a monotonous painting. The once-vibrant city, alive with lights and the hum of possibility, felt devoid of colour. Hyunjin walked through the bustling streets, surrounded by people yet feeling utterly alone. The familiar sights of cafes, street vendors, and neon signs barely registered in his mind. The laughter of friends and the clatter of car horns seemed muted, as if the world were moving at a distance, separated from him by an invisible barrier.

A week passed in this haze of emptiness, the weight of memories pressing down on him like an anchor. He avoided looking at his photos, afraid that seeing you would unravel him completely. But one night, when sleep refused to come and the silence of his apartment became suffocating, he gave in. Pulling out the small stack of printed photos, his fingers trembled as he sifted through them.

His heart thudded as he glanced through the images, expecting your smile to leap from the film or the sparkle in your eyes to cut through the gloom that had wrapped around him. But as he flipped through one photo after another, confusion began to cloud his mind. The meadow with its sea of wildflowers, the sun-dappled stream, the towering willow tree—they were all there, captured in their vivid beauty. But you weren't.

Hyunjin’s breath caught in his throat as he went through the photos again, this time slower, more deliberately. The bakery where you’d shared secret smiles and laughter was absent. The quaint cobblestone streets of the village, the small square with its fountain—none of it was there. His photos were filled only with sweeping landscapes, untouched by any sign of human presence.

He sat back, the photos slipping from his hands and scattering across the table. A chill ran down his spine, and he pressed a palm to his forehead as if trying to steady the storm in his mind. How could you not be there? How could the town, as real as the warmth of your touch, not exist in any frame?

The unanswered questions gnawed at him, pushing him to action. The next morning, with barely a moment’s hesitation, he found himself in the public library, searching for maps and old records. The smell of aged paper and ink surrounded him as he pored over books, their yellowed pages filled with histories and lists of places he had known since childhood.

He traced his finger over the worn map of the countryside, finding familiar town names, but there was no mention of the town where he had spent those unforgettable weeks. No quaint bakery, no vibrant market. It was as if the place had been swallowed by the earth, erased from existence.

A feeling of dread unfurled in his chest, cold and insidious, snaking through his veins until it gripped his heart in a vice. It spread to his stomach, coiling and twisting until nausea surged within him, threatening to pull him under. His mind raced with questions, each more unsettling than the last. Had he imagined it all? The doubt whispered like a traitorous voice, chilling him to his core. Were you nothing more than a figment of his longing, a cruel trick played by his own desperate heart? The notion made his skin prickle with an icy sweat, and the room seemed to shrink around him, the air suddenly too thick to breathe.

Hyunjin's hands trembled as he pressed his fingers against his temples, trying to still the storm of confusion and fear that buzzed in his head like a swarm of angry bees. He felt lightheaded, as though the ground beneath him were shifting, pulling him further away from any sense of reality he could hold on to. The world around him blurred, the distant sounds of pages turning and the soft murmur of voices dissolving into a muffled hum.

His chest tightened, each breath a battle as doubt gnawed at him, insidious and relentless. It left him feeling hollow, as if the foundation of everything he had believed had suddenly been yanked away, leaving him suspended in a void of uncertainty. The pounding of his heart was loud in his ears, a frantic, dissonant drumbeat that matched the frantic thoughts tearing through his mind.

But deep down, buried beneath the avalanche of fear and questions, where logic could not reach, he clung to the unwavering truth that you were real. Your laughter—bright and free, wrapping around him like a warm embrace—had touched a place in him that no illusion ever could. The way your eyes, with their depth and unspoken secrets, could convey a thousand stories in a single glance was not something his imagination could conjure. Those moments were etched into his soul with a permanence that no doubt could erase, as vivid as if they had happened just moments before.

He swallowed hard, the sick feeling still churning in his stomach, but determination began to glimmer through the haze of dread. Whatever this meant, whatever reality had slipped between the cracks, he needed answers. He wouldn’t let you become a ghost, a beautiful and tormenting figment lost to the shadows of memory.

He had to go back. The need was so overwhelming, it left no room for second-guessing. With a heart pounding hard enough to echo in his ears, he booked a flight for the very same day, every passing moment stretching unbearably thin. The hours in the air were a blur of anxiety and hope tangled together, each heartbeat a whispered plea that this time, reality wouldn’t betray him.

When Hyunjin finally stepped off the plane and onto the familiar soil, he felt a pulse of something close to relief, though it was soon replaced by a gnawing unease. He hurried to the bus station, breathless, as he approached the driver and gave the name of the village. The driver looked at him with a furrowed brow, confusion darkening his features.

“I’m sorry, where?” the driver asked, his tone laced with doubt.

Hyunjin’s stomach dropped, but he forced his voice to stay steady as he repeated the name, this time adding details and directions etched in his memory like the lines of a map. The driver’s expression softened with reluctant understanding, and after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “Alright, I’ll take you as far as I can.”

The ride was steeped in silence, the bus rattling over the winding road as the landscape turned from bustling streets to rolling fields and dense woods. With each mile, Hyunjin’s chest tightened, the unease blooming into full-blown dread. Every bend in the road seemed to taunt him with the question: What if it was never there?

Finally, the bus halted. The driver gave him a cautious look, as if unsure whether to leave him alone in a place that seemed to exist only in the past or imagination. Hyunjin muttered his thanks, his legs unsteady as he stepped off and felt the crunch of gravel beneath his feet.

Hyunjin’s eyes swept frantically across the landscape, searching for the familiar details that had once filled his world with warmth and belonging. He looked for the narrow paths that twisted between stone cottages, the soft glow of lanterns hung from doorways, the flower boxes brimming with wild blooms. But instead, an expanse of untouched green stretched before him, an endless sea of grass swaying gently under the afternoon light, mocking him with its emptiness. Not a single trace of the village remained.

The silence was suffocating, pressing into his ears until all he could hear was the thundering of his own heartbeat. Panic bubbled up from deep within, sharp and wild, clawing its way up his chest. His breath came in shallow gasps, each one feeling like an attempt to swallow shards of glass. The air thickened, heavy with disbelief and a dread that threatened to choke him.

He stumbled forward, feet tripping over themselves as if they could outrun the reality taking shape before him. With each step, the ache in his chest tightened, coiling around his ribs and squeezing until pain radiated through every nerve. He was running now, the world around him blurring into a smudge of green and gold, desperation urging him forward despite the screaming in his mind: It’s gone. It’s all gone.

Suddenly, he stopped, heart still pounding as his vision cleared. There, rising like a guardian from the past, stood the old willow tree. Its sweeping branches dipped toward the earth, the leaves dancing with the same gentle grace he remembered. It swayed as if greeting him, as if acknowledging his return. A shiver raced down his spine, cold and electric, and for a moment, he could barely breathe. The tree was the only remnant left of what had once been so alive, so tangible.

Confusion flooded him, crashing over the fear and heartbreak like a storm surge. He pressed a hand to his chest as if trying to hold the pieces of himself together. How could this be real? How could everything else be gone, as if it had been nothing more than a dream, an illusion spun by his longing heart?

His legs buckled under the weight of it all, and he sank to his knees beneath the tree’s canopy, his hands gripping the grass as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality. The ache in his chest erupted, raw and uncontrollable, and a guttural cry tore from his throat, echoing into the silence around him. His pain spilt out in waves, a sound filled with loss and longing, shaking his entire body.

He stayed there, unmoving, his head bowed as tears traced hot, stinging paths down his face. The world around him seemed to hold its breath, time frozen in a painful stasis. The whispering of the willow's branches brushed against the silence, a sound so soft it almost felt like your voice, gentle and familiar. Each rustle seemed to echo with laughter, the kind that had once filled this very space when you had spun around in carefree circles, hair catching the sunlight like spun gold.

The memories clawed at him, vivid and relentless. He could see you leaning against the tree, eyes bright with mischief as you teased him, daring him to catch you in a game only you understood. He could feel the warmth of your fingers entwining with his when you sat together, your touch grounding him in a way nothing else ever had. The way you would tilt your head, eyes searching his face as if he were the only thing in your world, made his heart ache with both joy and loss.

He remembered the mornings by the stream, where the sun would paint your features in gold, your laughter bouncing off the water as you splashed him and ran. The scent of wildflowers that clung to your hair, the soft hum of your voice as you sang under your breath while tending to your work at the bakery. Each memory pressed into him, sharp and bittersweet, until the weight of them made it impossible to move.

Time stretched endlessly, each second punctuated by the ragged sound of his breathing, each breath feeling like a battle to reclaim air. The quiet closed in, oppressive and suffocating, pressing against his chest until it felt as if it might shatter. The wind swept through the willow’s leaves, carrying the final notes of his broken cry into the void, leaving him in a silence so deep it threatened to consume him.

The minutes ticked by, or perhaps it was hours. He couldn’t tell; the line between past and present blurred in the flood of memories. His vision swam with the ghostly images of your smile, the light in your eyes, the way you would say his name, drawing out the syllables as if savouring them.

He stayed there, head bowed, the pain carving deep, unrelenting lines through his soul. The world remained unmoving, frozen with him, until the stillness itself seemed to breathe, waiting for something neither of them could name.

And then, cutting through the suffocating stillness, came a sound that made his breath catch.

“Hyunjin?”

quite a long one :3 i actually wrote this story a while ago and then deleted the whole the thing and restarted 😀 this version is actually so much better tho it just took me foreverrrrrr 🥲 BUT ANYWAYSSSSS I hope you guys enjoy it and please tell me what you think :) OH and pls let me know if u find a mistake somewhere!

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inkmonster21 · 4 months ago

Text

A Cowboy’s Love

Hattie Mae Dutton is the youngest of the family whom Ryan, one of the wranglers on the ranch, has fallen for.

Yellowstone Ryan x OC!Dutton

This is part ONE

Series Masterlist

🤠

"I'm too old for this crap," John mutters, sitting on the edge of their bed. Evelyn shares his sentiment, her eyes reflecting exhaustion and frustration. She had just begun to feel like herself again after the challenges of Kacey, their already feisty son. But now, the news of the positive pregnancy test dangled in the air between them like a bitter reminder. Just as the dread began to transform into words, the door creaks open and Beth and Lee step in, their eyes instantly falling upon the test in Evelyn's hand. "Are you pregnant, mom?" Lee asks, a hopeful smile lighting up his face.

John and Evenly exchanged a knowing glance, both silently praying that fate would intervene this time. They had already gone through the challenges of having four children, and the thought of another child, especially a girl like Beth had wished, seemed almost too much to handle. But the positive test in Evelyn's hands confirmed their fears. With a resigned smile, Evelyn nods and says, "I hope it's a girl too, Beth."

Nine months later, Hattie Mae Dutton was born into the world, her entrance marked by a chorus of defiant cries, rivaling those of a bobcat unleashed from the depths of hell. Beth couldn't help but smirk as she heard her newborn sister's piercing cries, her voice filled with pride. "That's my fucking sister, right there," she declared with a chuckle.

Hattie barges into the house, her older brother Kacey in hot pursuit. "Give it back, you brat!" he yells at her. Hattie, her hand holding a knife, smirks at him defiantly. "Come and get it then! What, don't think you can beat up a girl?" Their father swiftly intervenes, pulling Kacey off of her. "What the hell are you thinking, son? She's 5 years old, for god's sake!"

John rolls his eyes at his son's antics. "For goodness' sake, Kacey. She doesn't know any better."

John scoops up his young daughter in his arms firmly, but with a hint of amusement. "Give it here," he tells her. Hattie, her expression somewhat chastened, hands the knife over to her father. "I just wanted to see it," she explains, a touch of defensiveness in her voice. John returns the knife to Kacey and steps out of the room, Hattie held securely in his arms. "You want to go for a ride?" he asks her, his tone gentler now, as he sees her eager nod.

Hattie Mae Dutton was the heart and soul of the Dutton family - the baby, the epitome of innocent charm, and the one who, it seemed, no one could ever say no to.

John sent her to study business marketing, a path John believed would perfectly position her to market The Yellowstone Dutton Ranch effectively. Lee was incredibly proud of his sister, openly supporting her every step of the way. Beth thought it was badass how Hattie had the knack to make the ranch lifestyle come alive on social media. Kacey, on the other hand, didn't give two shits about what his sister was doing, barely understanding the magnitude of her achievements. Jamie was the only one who seemed to view her entire existence as a joke.

Hattie chuckled, clicking a picture of the wranglers. "Everyone smile!" she exclaimed, her camera lens focused on the stoic figure of Rip. "Even you, Rip!" He shook his head, but reluctantly broke into a sly grin. Without wasting a moment, Hattie snapped the picture and quickly opened up her editing app to touch up the photo before uploading it to the Yellowstone Instagram page.

It was Ryan's first day on the ranch, and the moment he laid eyes on Hattie, he was instantly captivated. She hopped out of the truck, her slender figure carrying shopping bags as she returned home from university for the weekend. "Who is that?" Ryan asked Lloyd, the older gentleman standing nearby. Lloyd chuckled as he watched Ryan's gaze follow Hattie's every move. "Hattie Dutton," he replied. "Mr. Dutton's youngest girl." Ryan nodded silently, his eyes still fixated on her as she pulled out a dress and showed it to her sister. "Wow," Ryan exhaled quietly.

Hattie was stood on the porch, proudly displaying her new purchases when Beth drew her attention towards a field in the distance. A younger man was standing there, his gaze focused solely on Hattie. He smiled warmly, tipping his hat in greeting. "Oh, wow," Hattie murmured, leaning back against the porch railing and admiring the cowboy. Beth couldn't help but tease her younger sister. "Hattie, what would Vince think?" she taunted. Vince Dupond, Hattie's uptight boyfriend, was known for his jealousy and possessiveness. Was his reason rooted in her father's substantial bank account? Quite possibly.

It felt as if fate or a higher power was meticulously orchestrating every detail. Just as Vince's car pulled into the driveway, he barked, "I thought you'd be here an hour ago!" Hattie stood there, silently anticipating the storm. Beth, standing nearby, whispered into her ear, "Looks like you're in trouble." Later that evening, at Vince's apartment, Hattie's skin bore the evidence of the price she had paid for her "trouble." The marks upon her body remained unseen, a secret safely tucked away.

Months passed, and the cycle of Hattie seemingly stepping out of line only to face his wrath became a grim regularity. It wasn't until one eventful night that someone finally took notice. Sitting in Vince's truck, Hattie tried to stay silent, knowing it would be pointless to argue with him. But when he accused her of sleeping with the ranch hands, she protested. "No, I'm not!" she insisted, reaching for the handle to exit the vehicle. But Vince grabbed her wrist, pulling her back into her seat with a force that made her cry out in pain. He jabbed a finger in her face.

"I bet you fuck all of them. Huh? Is that what you do, you fucking slut?" Suddenly, the driver's door of the truck was violently yanked open, leaving Vince frozen in surprise.

Rip turned his gaze to Hattie, sensing something amiss. "Is there a problem, Hattie?" he asked, noticing how tightly Vince gripped her wrist. Vince shot back defiantly, "Mind your own fucking business, you redneck." He tried to pull the door shut, but Rip acted quickly, yanking him out of the vehicle and slamming him onto the gravel.

Rip turned his attention to Hattie, his eyes narrowing. "I'm only going to ask you once," he said. "Did he hurt you?" Hattie looked down at her wrist before nodding slightly in confirmation. Rip's gaze flicked back to Vince, a fierce look of anger in his eyes. "I knew you were a piece of shit," he spat, proceeding to pummel Vince into a bloody mess. He slammed Vince against the bunkhouse wall, shouting out, "Lloyd! Get out here!"

Rip forcefully held Vince by his collar, pinning him against the wall. As Lloyd appeared from the bunkhouse, Rip pointed towards Hattie, who remained silently watching. "You hit her, mother fucker" Rip sneered. "This is what you get." Vince, bloodied and bruised, mustered enough defiance to spit on Rip's boots before hurling a chilling threat at him, "I'm going to kill you."

Rip chuckled at Vince's empty threat, his tone coldly mocking. "Well, you ain't gonna have that chance, partner." Turning to Lloyd, he commanded, "Tie his ass up. Throw him in the truck." Vince tried to struggle against their grasp, desperately pleading, "What are you doing? Hattie, help me. Tell them to stop!" Hattie stood resolute, staring defiantly at her attacker before striding up to him and delivering a powerful punch to his face. "Rot in hell, you f\*\*king pussy," she seethed.

Hattie defiantly climbed into the Yellowstone truck, ignoring Rip's attempts to convince her to get out. "Get out of the truck, Hattie. Go home," he pleaded. She shook her head firmly, not budging. "No. If he's going to the train station, I want to see it," she insisted, her determination unyielding.

Rip looked at her steadfastly, a knowing look in his eyes. "You know what that means, don't you?" he asked. She responded with a determined nod, "Kacey's got it. I can have it too." From that day forth, Hattie made a silent vow to herself - never again would she allow herself to be a victim of cruelty, instead vowing to be the one breaking hearts.

Hattie quickly proved herself on the ranch. "Look at her go!" Lee chuckled admiringly as she skillfully managed the cattle. "She sure is something," he conceded. Ryan watched her from afar, his smile betraying his admiration. Lee noticed his interest and smirked, nudging him with a knowing look. "You think so?" he teased. Ryan's smile widened as he nodded silently, his eyes fixed on Hattie. Lloyd, riding alongside Ryan, chuckled, "Come on, Romeo."

Lee's voice carried across the plains, calling out to Hattie. "Hattie!" He observed Ryan's rapt attention towards her and continued, "You're with Ryan. Ride up to the river and move them this way." Hattie rode up to the pair, her presence causing Ryan to nervously fidget with his appearance. Lloyd chuckled at the exchange, his smirk widening. Hattie came to a halt in front of them, her soft blonde locks swaying gently in the breeze. Ryan's eyes widened as he smiled at her, his gaze captivated. "Is that alright?" She asked, only to realize he completely missed what she said. "What was that?"

Hattie couldn't help but notice the way Ryan's eyes lingered on her. Seeing the way he reacted, a sly smirk played on her lips, knowing very well about his feelings. She glanced over at her brother, unsurprised by his attempts to matchmake. Hattie tilted her head slightly and suggested, "I figured we could give them a rest once we reach the river. It's quite a long ride." Ryan nodded eagerly, his eyes never leaving her face. "Sounds perfect. That's a brilliant idea." Hattie, knowing exactly what was going on, furrowed her brow slightly. "Okay, let's go

Lee chuckled, giving Ryan a playful wink. "You're walking into the lion's den with her," he teased. Ryan's neck grew warm with embarrassment, and he responded defensively, "Y'all are setting me up."

Riding side by side, they gradually approached the river, the sound of the rushing water growing louder. Once they reached the river's edge, they dismounted and settled down by the water's edge. Ryan sat quietly, his mind racing as he desperately tried to find something to say.

Hattie removed her hat, her blonde hair fluttering in the breeze. She teased Ryan, saying, "You're quiet today." Ryan's flustered response began with, "Am I?"

Hattie chuckled softly. "Even after all these years, I still make you nervous?" Her tone was lighthearted, yet unbeknownst to her, her words held truth. Ryan's cheeks flushed as he admitted, "You can be intimidating, darlin'." Hattie patted his leg gently, her hand lingering for a moment longer than usual. It was a common occurrence between them, this flirtatious banter. Hattie's gaze shifted to the river, and a mischievous smirk played on her lips.

Hattie stood, shedding her shirt and jeans in swift motions. She turned to Ryan, a playful challenge written on her face. "You coming?"

Ryan's eyes widened in surprise as he watched her jump into the river. "Are you crazy?" he asked, his voice a mix of awe and concern. Hattie chuckled, "Don't be a pussy. Come on, cowboy."

Ryan took a moment, gathering his courage before discarding his clothes and joining Hattie in the river. He let out a yelp as the cool water enveloped him. "Oh, shit, it's freezing!" He swam over to her, his limbs aching from the cold. Hattie's arms wrapped around him, and he had to pinch himself to assure himself he wasn't dreaming. There, in the river, he had the woman of his dreams pressed against him.

Hattie's blunt question cut through the tension, "You wanna kiss me?" her smirk growing wider. Ryan's hands instinctively found her waist, and he knew this was a risky move. Looking into her eyes, he replied, "You know I do, darlin'." Her proximity sent his mind reeling, feeling intoxicated by her nearness. "Can I?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Kiss me, cowboy." Ryan's lips finally met hers, their kiss hidden by the rippling water. Their bodies pressed against each other, hidden by the flowing river, and the secret of their situationship had begun between the farmer's daughter and a ranch hand.

One evening in the bunkhouse, the atmosphere was charged with excitement as a game of cards began. "This game doesn't even make sense," Colby grumbled, throwing his cards down in frustration. "Man, this is bulls\*t. I'm broke." Ryan revealed his winning hand, collecting the winnings. As he meticulously organized his winnings, he couldn't help but overhear the muttered comments from his fellow cowboys about a certain Dutton.

"Hattie is the perfect rider, both on horseback and in bed," Fred smirked, taking a swig of his beer. One of his friends chuckled and added, "She ain't bad. I took her for a spin last weekend." The other men snickered in agreement.

Ryan felt a surge of anger as he stood, his eyes fixed on Fred. "Bullshit!" he exclaimed, certain that Fred was making things up. Fred's attempt to play it cool failed, and he was clearly taken aback by Ryan's outburst. "What's wrong, cowboy? Jealous?" Ryan stepped forward, his anger blazing, but before he could lay a hand on Fred, Rip intervened. He placed a firm hand on Ryan's chest, commanding, "Calm the fuck down." Ryan was too enraged to speak, and Rip turned his attention to Fred.

It took all of Ryan's willpower to tear his gaze from Fred. He was seething with anger, ready to pounce on him. Rip intervened, shaking him forcefully, "HEY! Stop that shIt and tell me what happened. You know the fucking rules." Rip pushed Ryan back into his seat, the weight of his hand a reminder that he needed to cool off and explain himself.

Lloyd spoke up, his voice a mix of anger and disappointment. "Fred was speaking ill about Hattie." Rip's eyes blazed with fury as he turned to Fred. "What the f**k did you say about Hattie?" Fred attempted to shrug it off, explaining, "I made a joke-" Rip pushed him forcefully back onto his bunk, his voice a growl. "A joke? A f**king joke? That's the daughter of your f**ing boss! You ever say anything about her again, and I'll rope your ass and drag you to pasture 9 and bury you right there." Rip shook his head at the childish behavior. "A joke. Grow the fuck up," Rip walks out slamming the bunkhouse door.

Ryan understood the rules, even though he'd heard them a hundred times before. When two men wanted to settle a dispute, they went to Rip. He would fight them all day if necessary. But for Hattie, Ryan was prepared to break the rules. If she ever needed him to fight for her, he would do so without hesitation. He'd gladly pack his bags and leave with a smile, knowing he had defended her honor.

#ryan yellowstone #yellowstone #ian bohen #yellowstone fanfiction #Ryan x OC #Yellowstone Ryan x OC #original character #Yellowstone x OC

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aventurineswife · 1 month ago

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can you do march 7th + male!reader (they'd be friends) and the scenario would be the reader taking march 7th out shopping for a day?

A Day to Remember

Summary: You and March spend a fun-filled day shopping together at a lively space station market. March's excitement and curiosity lead the two of you through various shops as she picks out new camera gear and stylish boots. Along the way, you share laughs and create lasting memories, with the day turning into an unexpected adventure. It’s a simple day that strengthens your friendship, bringing joy and a sense of discovery.

Tags: March 7th x Male!Reader, Friendship, Fluff, Shopping, Lighthearted, Humor, Photography, Everyday Moments.

A/N: FINALLY A MALE READER REQ!! 🗣️🔥

[Credits for the header]

The Astral Express was bustling with energy as usual, but today felt different. March had been talking about wanting a new camera lens for weeks, and after some convincing, you'd finally agreed to take her out shopping for the day. You were both excited, but also uncertain about how it would go—March's adventurous spirit sometimes led her into trouble, and you weren't sure what kind of trouble a shopping spree would lead to.

"You sure you're ready for this?" you teased as you approached her, leaning against a pillar.

March flashed you a bright, excited grin, her eyes practically sparkling. "Of course! I’ve been dreaming about this day for ages. Who better to go with than my best friend?" She twirled around, the flow of her pink-and-blue overcoat making her seem like a whirlwind of energy.

"I guess I can’t argue with that," you said with a chuckle, offering her a hand. "Let’s go, then."

The two of you stepped out into the vibrant shopping district, where the sounds of merchants calling out their wares filled the air. March immediately darted ahead, her curiosity leading her to a stall with a variety of camera accessories. You caught up quickly, amused by her enthusiasm as she inspected every lens, filter, and strap with childlike wonder.

"Look at these! Imagine how much clearer the stars would look with this one!" March exclaimed, holding up a sleek, silver lens that shimmered in the light.

"I think you’ve got a good eye for photography," you replied, smiling. "Maybe we should check out the prices first, though."

March waved you off with a laugh. "Prices are for boring adults. I’m here for the experience!" She threw a playful glance at you, her cheeks flushing a little from the excitement.

You shook your head, unable to stop laughing at her antics. "Alright, alright. Let’s take a look at what else this place has to offer."

As you continued walking through the district, you could tell March was in her element. She darted from one shop to the next, trying on clothes, examining accessories, and occasionally snapping pictures of random objects that caught her attention. You followed her with a sense of amusement, content to watch her embrace the world with such joy.

"Hey! Look at this!" March shouted suddenly, holding up a pair of boots that matched her signature style. They were sleek and sturdy, perfect for her adventurous spirit. "What do you think?"

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the boots. "They’re definitely your style, but do you really need new boots? Aren’t yours still good?"

March pouted dramatically, her lower lip jutting out. "Come on, please? These ones are way cooler! And they’ll go perfectly with my outfit!"

You sighed, a smile tugging at your lips. "Alright, alright. You’ve convinced me."

As you made your way to the checkout counter, March bounced on her heels, clearly excited about her new purchase. You couldn’t help but feel grateful for this simple day out—watching her discover new things, sharing a laugh here and there, and just enjoying the moment. There was something magical about seeing her so happy.

"You know," you said, handing over the payment for her new boots, "I never thought a shopping trip could be this fun."

March looked up at you, her expression softening. "Well, that’s because you’re with me! Who else would make shopping an adventure?"

She was right. Somehow, March had turned an ordinary errand into a full-blown journey. It wasn’t just about the camera gear or the boots—it was about sharing the day together, capturing moments, and finding joy in the simplest things.

"Thanks for today," March said as you both left the shop. "It was exactly what I needed."

You smiled at her, your heart light. "Anytime, March. Anytime."

And as you walked together, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. You may not know everything about your past, but with friends like March, the future was already looking brighter.

[Credits]

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yvetteheiser · 8 months ago

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Yvette Heiser Travel with Taste: Mastering the Art of Food Photography on the Road

Traveling opens up a world of culinary delights, and what better way to capture the essence of these experiences than through the lens of food photography? Whether you're a seasoned travel photographer or a food enthusiast with a passion for visual storytelling, mastering the art of food photography on the road can elevate your travel experiences to new heights. In this article, inspired by Yvette Heiser's insights on "Essential Qualities Every Travel Photographer Must Have we explore the fusion of travel and taste, delving into the captivating world of food photography and its role in documenting culinary adventures around the globe.

Embracing Culinary Diversity: The Intersection of Travel and Food Photography

As a travel photographer, the irresistible charm of varied cuisines and culinary traditions offers a unique chance to encapsulate the essence of a destination. From savoring street food in bustling markets to indulging in fine dining experiences at local eateries, every dish tells a story, and food photography serves as the visual narrative. The vibrant colors, textures, and intricate details of a well-prepared meal offer a rich tapestry of visual content that can transport viewers to the heart of a culture. Yvette Heiser talks about Food Photography, illustrating how this art form captures the soul of culinary experiences in her insightful discussions.

The Artistry of Food Photography: A Visual Feast for the Senses

Food photography is a delicate art form that goes beyond simply documenting a dish; it involves capturing the essence of flavors, aromas, and the cultural significance of a meal. Through skillful composition, lighting, and attention to detail, a travel photographer can transform a simple meal into a visual masterpiece. The interplay of natural light with the textures of food, the arrangement of ingredients, and the context of the dining environment adds depth and dimension to the visual narrative, inviting viewers to embark on a journey that engages all their senses.

Unveiling Culinary Destinations: The Role of Food Photography in Travel Documentation

In the world of travel photography, food becomes a captivating subject that captures the essence and spirit of a destination. From the vibrant street food stalls of Bangkok to the rustic trattorias of Tuscany, food photography becomes a means of preserving and sharing the essence of a place. Through evocative images of local delicacies, traditional cooking methods, and the conviviality of dining, a travel photographer can create a visual diary that encapsulates the spirit of each destination, inviting others to embark on a gastronomic adventure.

The Tools of the Trade: Tips for Mastering Food Photography on the Go

Mastering food photography on the road requires a combination of technical skill, creativity, and an understanding of the unique challenges posed by different environments. From selecting the right camera equipment and lenses to making the most of available lighting and composing captivating shots, a travel photographer must adapt to varying conditions while maintaining the integrity of the culinary subject. Additionally, embracing the local culture and engaging with chefs and food vendors can provide insight and authenticity to the visual narrative.

Conclusion: Capturing Culinary Adventures Through Food Photography

In summary, the amalgamation of travel and culinary exploration presents abundant prospects for travel photographers to hone their skills in the realm of food photography during their journeys. By immersing themselves in the varied culinary experiences, comprehending the artistic essence of food photography, and capturing the spirit of culinary destinations, photographers have the opportunity to craft a visual banquet that honors the convergence of travel and gastronomy. Therefore, seize your camera, embark on a voyage of flavors, and encapsulate the essence of culinary escapades through the captivating art of food photography. It's the perfect time to travel in search of taste and relish the visual wonders that await worldwide.

#yvette heiser #photography #camera #photographer #wedding #moments #pictures #childphotography #photographytips #events #travel photography

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thoughts-24seven · 2 months ago

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Welcome to My Creative Haven: A World of Stories, Colors, and Inspiration

Hey there, dreamer! 🌟

Welcome to a world where moments turn into stories, colors breathe life into emotions, and creativity knows no bounds. I’m Almas Fatima, and this is my little corner of the internet where I get to share everything I love with you.

📸 Freezing Time: Why I Love Photography Have you ever looked at a picture and felt like you were standing right there, in that moment? That’s what photography does for me. It’s like pressing “pause” on the beauty of the world.

I’ve captured everything from the laughter of a bustling market to the quiet of a dewdrop on a flower petal. Through my lens, I’ve learned to find magic in the everyday. And guess what? The best part isn’t just the photo, it’s the way it makes me feel every time I look back at it.

🎨 Painting Emotions into Existence Now let’s talk about painting. If photography captures what’s outside, painting lets me dive into what’s inside.

There’s something so freeing about taking a blank canvas and turning it into a swirl of thoughts, dreams, and feelings. Whether it’s soft pastels or bold, fiery strokes, every painting tells a story.

One of my favorite pieces is a burst of vibrant blues and yellows that I created after watching a sunset. It’s messy, colorful, and unapologetically imperfect, just like life.

💡 Living Creatively, One Hobby at a Time Life, to me, is a constant adventure. When I’m not behind the camera or in front of a canvas, I’m busy exploring new hobbies. From trying out quirky DIY crafts to getting lost in books, I believe creativity can find its way into anything.

This blog is where all these little pieces of my world come together. I’ll be sharing my favorite photographs, paintings, and stories, as well as quotes that inspire me. Think of this as a cozy, creative hangout where we can celebrate everything beautiful and unique.

✨ Let’s Start This Adventure So, what’s next? Plenty! This is just the beginning of our creative journey together. Whether you’re an artist, a dreamer, or someone who loves discovering beauty in everyday life, I hope you’ll find something here that resonates with you.

Drop me a comment and tell me what inspires you. I’d love to hear your stories, your dreams, and even your random musings. Let’s create a space where creativity flows and inspiration thrives.

Here’s to discovering, dreaming, and daring to create something magical. Let’s make it unforgettable!

With love, Almas Fatima

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yatsurinamikaze · 8 months ago

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Sombre (ninth - part i) - (ninth - part ii) - (ninth - part iii)

//tw: miscarriage, blood, depression, dark stuff, angst

Miya Atsumu x Reader (Angst!)

Life in your village was… comforting. Mornings began with helping your father in the kitchen, resuming your morning runs, and feeding ducklings by the pond. With your neighbor, Mr. Kishimoto, you ventured into the rhythmic choreography of seaweed farming, where the ebb and flow of the ocean soothed the pain in your heart. The days were relatively busier. Yet, as dusk fell and night draped its veil, you found yourself in the quiet of your room with an unsettled mind, tears trickling slowly as you hugged your pillow tightly until morning came again.

One afternoon, while browsing the quaint local market, you spotted Mrs. Tanaka and a young, eccentric woman named Yuki with short, brightly dyed hair and a paint-splattered smock, standing in stark contrast. "Y/n-chan!" Mrs. Tanaka greeted warmly, her eyes crinkling with delight as you exchanged greetings. She grabbed a yogurt from the shelf and turned to leave, then paused with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Oh, by the way, Yuki was looking for some help painting a background tapestry for the Eisa festival. Are you free to lend her a hand?"

Your eyes narrowed as you tried to decipher her smile. Slowly, you nodded, "Sure." Yuki beamed with enthusiasm. "Let's meet on Sunday at my studio by the beach. It'll be a blast!"

On Sunday, you arrived at Yuki’s studio, where she had transformed an old fishing shack into a vibrant workspace. You were greeted by canvases splashed with bright colors and the scent of fresh paint lingering in the air. Yuki welcomed you with a wide grin. “Shall we get started?” She handed you a brush and pointed to a bucket of paint. You began painting the backdrop, mirroring her movements.

After some time, Yuki began sharing her passion. “I love expressing Okinawa's spirit through my paintings,” she explained animatedly, showing you her sketches for the tapestry. “Art allows me to capture the essence of this island—the rich culture, vibrant colors, and deep connection to nature.”

You listened intently, captivated by Yuki's fervor. Your eyes traced the intricate details of her work. “It's amazing how art can convey so much emotion and beauty,” you mused, recalling your own joy in photography. “Capturing moments in time felt like capturing a piece of the soul.”

Yuki's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Why did you stop?" she asked gently. You sighed, a hint of regret tugging at your heart. "Life happened, I suppose. Moving to Osaka, starting a career, and then... other things got in the way. I lost touch with what brought me joy.”

Yuki nodded thoughtfully. "Sometimes life distracts us from what truly matters,” she hummed, continuing, “But you're back now, and Okinawa is waiting for you to rediscover its beauty through your lens."

"Yeah... maybe," you hummed along with Yuki's song, stroking the brush against the canvas. You started thinking about your old camera, making a mental note to ask your dad about it. Mrs. Tanaka entered, marveling at the progress you both had made.

Suddenly, a mischievous grin spread across Yuki's face. "You know, yn-chan, we should capture Mrs. Tanaka doing the Eisa dance! That would be a sight to behold!"

You chuckled, picturing the usually composed Mrs. Tanaka in the midst of the dance. "That would be quite a photo! Mrs. Tanaka, are you up for it?"

Mrs. Tanaka chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, my dear, you might need a faster camera for that!" The three of you burst into laughter.

Inspired by Yuki's encouragement and lighthearted humor, you returned home that evening with renewed determination. Rummaging through your belongings, you unearthed your old camera, its familiar weight comforting. Alongside it, you found a few photographs from your early days.

Standing by the window, you gazed out at the tranquil Okinawan landscape bathed in twilight's soft glow. The rhythmic lull of the ocean waves echoed a gentle reassurance, prompting a realization to bloom within your soul.

In the quiet solitude of your thoughts, you recalled Yuki's words, “Those who find contentment within themselves will be truly rich.” This resonated deeply, reminding you that true wealth lay not in material possessions but in finding peace and fulfillment within oneself.

You understood that amidst life's tumultuous journey, finding solace in passions and embracing self-love were the foundations of happiness. Each click of the shutter would capture not only Okinawa's beauty but also your journey—of healing, rediscovery, and the profound wisdom gained through embracing solitude.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of gold and lavender across the sky, a serene calm settled within your heart. With a peaceful smile, you whispered a silent promise to yourself—to never lose this part of yourself again.

You realized that true happiness begins within oneself before it can be shared with others.

I know the three parts of the ninth chapter are boring. Bear with me. :)

Masterlist (taglist is open!)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x you #hq x reader #hq x y/n #miya atsumu angst #atsumu x reader #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu angst #hq atsumu #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #msby atsumu #miya twins

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ascendingtostardust · 2 years ago

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Click

(Sam Kiszka x f reader)

word count: 2.1k

warnings: none, all fluff and dad!sam

a/n: this was going to be a little blurb that turned into 2k words (oops). I didn’t edit it at all so I hope it makes sense and isn’t too hard to read :)

—

Sam had gotten into film photography long before the two of you had gotten together, racking up quite the collection of cameras. Some he traveled with, some he never left the house with, and some he never left the house without. He had a preferred use for each one, sometimes testing their limits when he learned about a new technique or feature. This hobby of his was actually how the two of you met.

On a blanket in the shade produced by a tall tree in the park right by your apartment, you sat enjoying the beautifully warm summer day. You rested with your hands behind you, legs outstretched in front of you as you munched on an assortment of fresh fruit you had just bought from the market earlier that day. Completely in your own world, you almost missed the click of a camera a few feet away from you.

When you looked over, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen stood lowering his camera to rest against his chest. The confused look you shot him caused him to cautiously make his way over to you and apologize for not asking before taking a photo of you. He said that you “just looked so beautiful when you didn’t think anyone was paying attention” in the most sincere way you’d ever heard anyone compliment you.

And just like that…click.

Your entire relationship was documented, which you were extremely grateful for. At first the photos were only from Sam’s perspective, but then also from yours when you felt more comfortable grabbing the camera from him to take a few shots from your own point of view. Being able to show how you viewed each other and your shared experiences through the way you captured those special moments was something you never knew you needed until Sam came into your life.

After a few years of dating, you both knew you were ready to settle down and start getting serious about what the future held for you as a pair. Sam and the band’s schedule was lightening up as his brothers had a few kids of their own and began pushing for more time at home and less time on the road.

When you decided to finally take a pregnancy test after a few weeks of unbearable nausea, your fate as a couple was sealed - you were having a baby. Sam, of course, was over the moon, wanting everyone special in his life to share in his excitement. Bringing new life into the world was a big responsibility, but one that he always knew he wanted to take on. Now it was happening, and it was happening with the love of his life.

Just like every other part of your relationship, your pregnancy journey was documented on the film in Sam’s camera. You swore he sometimes went through a whole roll of film in one day just taking pictures of you and your swollen belly while doing completely mundane, everyday tasks - though he would try to deny it. Every now and then he would get an idea for a few photos and have you pose naturally while he got his shots, but most photos were completely candid. He was respectful of your boundaries, though, and knew when to put the camera down and actually live in the moment that he wanted to capture forever.

From the moment she was born, your daughter heard the click of a camera shutter at least 6 times a day. As a baby, it became a sound that comforted her during those rough moments of nonstop tears. Sam would request one of his less expensive cameras that was devoid of any film and would take the lens off, carefully storing the fragile piece away from any curious hands. You would watch as he brought the old camera to lean against the hip your daughter wasn’t resting on, cranking the small lever on top of the body, and pressing the button next to it to release the shutter.

The fluttering click of the camera would immediately pull your daughter’s attention to the object in his hand without fail, making you stifle a giggle every time you witnessed it. Through her tear-soaked lashes she would watch with wide eyes as Sam repeated the same actions, pretending to take photos of things around the room in an effort to keep his baby’s attention on anything but the cause of her sadness.

As much as she loved the sounds of the camera, though, the same effect could never be repeated by you when Sam was traveling for shows or interviews and nothing you did was calming her down. In those moments the only thing you could do was call Sam and hold the phone to her ear as he sang softly or whispered how much he loved her until she fell asleep. A true daddy’s girl through and through.

There was a long break of touring before Sam had to leave again, both of you preparing for months to make sure that all three members of your little family were ready for Sam to be gone for a few weeks. Your baby was now a toddler, though Sam insisted on calling her his teenager because of how grown up she acted. Her curiosity mixed with Sam’s persistence to answer all questions (mostly) honestly and openly gave her a level of intelligence that both of you were extremely proud of.

Though when it was time for her to say bye-bye to her favorite person in the world, her endless tears caused a few of your own to run down your cheeks. Just when you began accepting the fact that she may simply be inconsolable until he got back home, Sam pulled out a small gift bag overflowing with soft pink tissue paper. Your little one sat down over Sam’s crossed legs as the three of you sat close on the carpeted floor of your living room. As she eagerly pulled the tissue paper from the bag and let it fall carelessly, Sam made sure to hold the bottom of the bag steady so she could reach inside and grab the contents.

A book of empty plastic sleeves cased in a smooth hard cover, a few packets of stickers, and lastly…her own camera.

Her eyes widened as she pulled the bright yellow disposable camera out of the bag with her little hands, looking at Sam as if she couldn’t believe what she was holding. Sam had always told her how special it was to be able to capture a moment and freeze it in time, just like the magic in the books he read to her before bed. And now she held that magic in her hands.

Sam placed the empty bag on the ground, wrapping his arms around her softly, head resting on her small shoulder, as she turned the camera in her hands and inspected each feature.

“I was thinking…” He started, taking the stickers and empty book out of your hands to hold in her lap as he spoke. “Maybe you can take some pictures of yours and mommy’s adventures while I’m away, hm? Just like how I take pictures when we’re all together.”

He leaned forward to gauge her reaction, studying her concentrated face as she continued to hold the camera like it was the most precious gift she’d ever received.

“Do you know how many pictures you can take with that camera?” He knew she didn’t, but gently pointed to the number printed on the front label, whispering “what number is that?” into her ear to help her figure it out.

“36!” She exclaimed, looking up at him with a grin for his approval.

“That’s right, buggy! And you know how long daddy’s going to be away?” He paused to give her a moment to think, not sure if he even told her how long he’d be gone in fear of upsetting her before this very moment. “We’ll be away from each other for 36 days.”

He kept his voice soft, almost as if he was afraid the moment would become too real if he spoke too loud.

“While I’m away with your uncles and you’re here with mommy I want you to take one picture every single day that I’m gone, okay? Do you think you can do that?” He kissed her cheek lightly, rocking the two of them side to side soothingly. Your daughter nodded her head sadly, another wave of tears forming in her eyes.

“But hey, I’ll tell you what…if you take a picture every day with your camera, I’ll take a picture every day with mine and when I get home we’ll get our pictures processed so that we can print them out and put them in your special book. Is that a deal? You think you can do that?”

Another kiss was placed to her cheek but this time he didn’t pull away, closing his eyes to prevent his own tears from rolling down his cheeks.

“Mommy will help you decorate your book with these stickers and then we’ll be able to see what both of us were doing on the same day.” He pulled away to show her the small photo album as she flipped through the empty pages curiously.

“I can do that, daddy,” she said after a few moments of silence. A small smile spread across your lips as he gave her a grin and began showing her how to wind up the camera, what button to press “to make it click,” and where to look to see what she was taking a photo of.

And just like that, a few minutes later it was time for Sam to say his goodbyes before heading out the door and leaving you with a very distraught toddler who started missing her daddy the moment he stepped out the door.

The morning after Sam left, you expected your little one to be miserable once she realized that her dad was really gone for a while. However, your brows furrowed slightly when you heard the patter of feet quickly running down the hallway and into the kitchen where you stood making breakfast for the two of you. Your daughter immediately wrapped her arms around your leg, looking up at you excitedly as your empty hand found its way to the back of her head to hold her close.

“Mommy when can I take my picture for daddy? We can’t forget.” She said matter-of-factly, making you look down to see her serious look. Her favorite tiny purse that she used for dress-up was draped over her arm, something inside weighing it down slightly. It was a sparkly, baby pink bag that was her favorite because her Uncle Josh got it for her when she became old enough to want to dress up and play pretend with him, however she never brought it with her to breakfast.

“Maybe when we go to the market later you can take a pretty picture for daddy, how does that sound?” You said, plating her breakfast and guiding her to the kitchen chair that had her booster seat attached to it. She nodded and handed you the bag before climbing into the chair and sitting in her seat so that she could reach the table, something she did whenever she had something in her hands but needed to get something else done like the little lady she was.

When you grasped the bag, though, you realized what was inside. The camera. Sammy always made sure that he ate breakfast with the two of you, citing that the day just didn’t feel right if it wasn’t started with his girls and so, even with him away, she brought him to breakfast. You felt a pang in your chest at the realization and gently placed the small purse containing her precious item onto the table next to her plate.

After a few bites, your daughter placed her small fork down and began digging through her bag to pull the camera out.

“I think I want daddy to see my breakfast. He probably misses it.” Her tiny voice, filled with so much confidence, made your eyes misty at the thought of her wanting to share her morning with Sam just like he had always made sure to do.

“I think he’d like that, buggy.” You give her a smile, watching as she refamiliarized herself with what buttons did what, just like Sam had shown her the day prior.

And just like that...click.

#please be nice I’m so self conscious of my writing thank u #sam kiszka #gvf #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka fluff

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labyrinthofsphinx · 10 months ago

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Statistical Outliers

Part 3 of drabble. Will be a bit busy, but might post some more later.

He’ll be honest, it was a long day. Even after all the drama with Velvette, he was called down to Val’s studio because of some issue with the cameras there. The issue had been that someone had dropped some lube onto the lens, warping what would’ve been a perfect shot. Well, said someone gave Val his much needed target practice.

Angel dust was there, of course, and Vox made it a point to avoid him as much as physically possible. He didn’t want to hear about him today.

Aside from that, shooting the new commercial for later use, and filling out the rest of his programs, he almost forgot his earlier troubles. So much so that, when he finally was able to retire back to their top floor, he was surprised to find the kid on the couch, wrapped up in Velvette’s arms as she took more pictures of the two of them together.

He didn’t often keep tabs on Velvette’s feed, that was usually her business, but he poked around for a second.

It’s blown up. Like, they’ve always had numbers before, but he’s not sure up to this scale.

Likes, shares, replies, the works in unprecedented figures. All from photos she’s sharing of her latest projects, most of which featured the kid in the background like a set piece. Positivity regarding their brand, regarding them seemed to be at an all-time high. A quick search revealed that most of that positivity was an echo chamber from Velvette’s followers bleeding down a common thread to the rest of hell, which was generally: ‘Look how good/awesome/attractive the Vees are! They’ve even got such a cutie pie with them!’.

He calculated all of that in the span of a minute. Velvette knew he was just…so baffled the minute after. He might’ve blue screened from the way her face twitched, like she was holding back a laugh. She was smirking when he finally regarded her again.

“You think you’d know better than to question me by now.” She teased.

“…okay, granted. But how?”

“I told you, ‘cute’ is in.” She grabbed the kid again and lifted him onto her lap like a plush doll. She wasn’t tall, or at least, not compared to Vox, but the kid was small even in her arms. Looks like she probably burned his old clothes too, because he was wearing one of her new summer collections loungewear outfits, Vee branded and everything. Around his neck was a delicate collar, almost a necklace, the charm of which had their signature hearts but with an electric ‘V’ cutting through it. Hm, note for later, look into pet market.

The kid looked at him again, head perking up a bit as he walked over, but it seemed like he learned his lesson on the talking thing.

It was strange to have another person in their space, though less so the more Velvette treats him like a pet than a person. Val had a pet for…brief time, and Vox learned from that to never get him anything of the sort again. Which means, this kid is going to be an issue already.

“Has Val seen him yet?” He asked, almost with a groan. It was the end of the day, and he didn’t feel the need to cake on a smile without anyone else around. He was fucking tired, alright? He didn’t need Val causing an issue over her new literal boy toy.

She shrugged.

“Don’t think so. Been too busy with that long shoot with Angel. Why?”

“Remember what happened to the last pet?”

At that, the kid’s ears dropped, and his body curled inwards a bit. Velvette petted the spot at the top of his head.

“…he’ll stay in my room. And tell Val that if breaks my new toy, I’ll be up his ass, I swear to God.”

“I’ll let him know.” Better that the two adults work it out…hopefully work it out. If there was one thing worse than a Val tantrum, it was a Val versus Vel brawl. Because somehow Vox was always the one fixing shit afterwards.

Then, her phone went off. Velvette made a face, groaned, then turned to Vox.

“I’ve got to take this.”

She put the kid down beside her for a moment, standing up to head off to her room.

“Watch him for a second, darling.” She didn’t ask so much as just abandoned him to his new task, walking off and pretending to be pleasant about something over the phone. Her door slammed shut as the conversation seemed to take a turn. He could listen in, but her shriek from before had already had him running diagnostics and he didn’t want to risk a round two so quick.

God, he was so fucking tired. He’ll just order in for the night. He just didn’t have the energy to head back out for food and a night full of drinks.

“Coffee?”

The voice caught him off guard. He’d been zoning out, hadn’t he?

The owner of the voice poked his head over the rim of the couch. Geez, he was small. He barely made it over just to look at him.

“Huh?” He asked.

“Y-you look tired. I…I was just thinking that you might want a coffee…or tea…or I can make hot chocolate, if you want.”

He…what? Did he not realize who he was talking to? Did he not realize where he was? Was he just stupid? Also, who gave him permission to talk? Vox certainly didn’t.

“You know, last I checked, pets didn’t talk.” He snapped a bit, voice warping with distortion.

The kid didn’t look any more afraid than before. Since when was he unintimidating to children? Before he could get madder, an alert flashed before his eyes. Power levels low, please plug in or put into power save mode. He really overdid it today, huh? Maybe he should fit in another coffee break between segments. You know, forget the kid. He can punish him tomorrow when he had the energy to do it.

His limbs hurt a bit as he moved. His back was sore from all the sitting in that stiff chair. He really ought to replace it, but the odd angle of its back meant he always sits straight in interviews and, well, it’s a good look. He’d be lament to get rid of it just because of a little pain.

Fuck it. He’s just going to go pass out.

“Stay here, and don’t move.” He ordered as he quickly undid his bow tie. The collar released and he could feel air and blood circulating around his neck again. Eyes followed him as he went to his room, but he couldn’t be bothered to snapping back again.

He was just about to open his door when he noticed it.

Ah, he must’ve snuck pasted Velvette.

Smoke curled in from the doorway, red whisps of the telltale signature of Valentino drifted towards him like grasping hands. It reached to his waist, his shoulders, and across his chest. Val was in a mood. Probably that mood. Unless he wanted to deal with another fit, and despite feeling like he wants to drop to the floor, Vox had to be in that mood too.

Fuck my life.

Business smile, come on. Just business as usual.

And he stepped in.

…

As it turned out, there was a reason Valentino was in that mood. Worse, he was in the version of that mood which left Vox feeling like he just lost a fight. He was also, currently, on the floor. Val has taken over his bed, and any attempt to remedy this whole situation will probably end up worse somehow.

Small glitches danced across his vision. He could feel the places Val’s claws caught on the sides of his screen. They were enough to hurt, but he just hoped it wasn’t bad enough to need a buffing out. He sat up, and almost immediately regretted it. Damn it, Val! What was so appealing about mauling on him like a fucking cat toy? His back was a collage to scratches, his legs a testimony to the power of mandibles or whatever the fuck he’s got in his face.

Valentino was happily snoozing away, his particular grievance stripped away by the power of a fucked-out sleep and mauling Vox. Apparently, Angel was acting up. He was late to set, was pissed off when he arrived, and was in entirely too much of a rush to leave. Obviously, this was a problem for Val. And, now, Vox. Because, again, Valentino’s problems are always Vox’s problems.

It didn’t take much to figure out why Angel was doing this shit. It would only a couple of hours before Alastor’s pet projects figured out the kid was gone. Not dead, but gone. So far as he knew, they haven’t figured it out yet. Angel probably hadn’t had time to surf the web while working, and the rest of them apparently didn’t even have phones. Princess Morningstar didn’t follow the Vees, so it’s not like she’d be likely to see their feed.

Even now, he could see them walking the streets, asking folks, looking for hide or hair of him. Instead of looking the one place they might get a clue, they distracted themselves with nonsense.

He stretched out, figuring he might as well take the couch. He had to get some sleep. Also, while he was at it, he’d just quietly silence anything mentioning the kid on the pity party’s feed. Not that he was concerned, but the idea of Princess Morningstar walking into Vee tower (or worse, Lucifer) with demands was both embarrassing and demeaning. He wouldn’t have it.

When he left the room and headed into the lounge, he was surprised to find the T.V. on. There was a streaming movie playing, and a voice was singing that he hadn’t heard in…fifty? Sixty years? Longer?

God, he’d been alive last time he heard this. Back when it first came out. He remembered. He had that tune stuck in his head for months. Everyone did.

He’d always loved the T.V., alive or dead. As hypnotic as it was to everyone down here, it held just as much sway to him, even after all these years. His feet dragged him towards the sound, the old timey tune jumping into chorus again.

“I’ve a smile on my face. I walk down the lane. With a happy refrain. Singin’, just singing in the rain.”

That…didn’t come from the T.V.

The small, soft sound came from the couch, where two tired eyes blinked slowly at the screen. There was a small smile on his face, as if he really did forget for a moment that he’d been kidnapped.

“She’s gonna be really mad that your over here and not where she told you to be.”

Vox’s little comment nearly made him jump out of his skin. Though shock, surprise, and even slight fear seemed to give way to something somber in his mind. Vox didn’t say it, neither did the kid, but they both knew he looked like shit right now.

“…I know.” He muttered, after a moment, like he was considering whether Vox would want a response or not. “But…but I didn’t want to sleep on the floor.”

Oh. Well. Um.

He bit his lip. No, no. He wasn’t about to sympathize with him. That’d be like sympathizing with the wallpaper or the chair. It had a purpose and when it’s done with it, it’ll get thrown out like all the rest of it. That’s all.

“That’s where pets belong.” He hissed.

“…do I have to be a pet?”

“If you want to keep your scalp, yes.”

He sighed, despair puffing out into a choked noise. That said, he didn’t wander back to Velvette’s room. Instead, he abandoned the couch for the floor, resting his head on his tail as he curled inward for warmth. Now abandoned, Vox took over the couch. He had half a mind to change the channel and was about to when the kid pipped up again.

“C-could you leave it on?”

“…why?”

“I love this part.”

He could name on one hand the number of people down here still alive that he knew of that actually watched this movie. All of them were far, far older than the kid. He didn’t look like a 50s kid, or didn’t dress like one. Maybe he kept up to date with all the innovations, like Vox has, but nothing about the kid has struck him as being from when he was still walking around.

A movie kid then? Sure, one with good taste but…okay, no, that was weird too.

He left it on. Not sure what possessed him to do it, but he left it on. Gene Kelly kept right on talking, even after the kid fell asleep. And at some point, while he was singing, Vox’s own lids drooped low.

…

He woke up to the click of a phone taking a picture. His whole body felt like it was still coming online by the time he even realized what was going on. Velvette, standing in front of the couch, was holding an impromptu photo session featuring Vox sleeping on the couch. She did that sometimes, take photos of him in compromising or funny positions. Most of them involved Val, though there was a particular vid of him unintentionally slamming his head against his desk that got a good laugh. She doesn’t really post these more…reputation damaging ones. No, she just keeps them for blackmail.

Now, while he didn’t really care about the sleeping part, it registered that he probably still looked like a shark attack victim via Val. The fuck was so amusing about that-?

A quick look down and he got his answer. The kid was there, guess he never went back to Velvette’s room. He was still asleep, curled almost entirely into a sphere. A Voxtek branded throw blanket was tossed across his shoulders. It was probably the one they kept by the couch, all things considered. He didn’t think much of it…but from an outside perspective…

“I didn’t do that.” His voice sounded groggy from sleep and the lingering exhaustion. Velvette scoffed, in a laughing, mocking tone, and kept taking pictures.

“That is so cute, Vee.”

“I didn’t do it!” He snapped louder, enough to wake the kid up with a jolt. A bit of electricity might’ve made the jump and zapped him, because he responded like someone stepping on a live wire. Eyes wide and leaping up, his ears flicked around looking for the problem.

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Vox growled, frown pulling into a broken smile. “You’re still talking.”

The kid deflated, realizing again where he was, and snapped his mouth close. Velvette puffed out her cheeks.

“Uh, did you have to go and ruin it?”

“Ruin what? You making fun of me?”

“No, you being cute, Vee. I told you, ‘cute’ is in. It makes you look more approachable and desirable to be a little cute sometimes.”

He felt like he was going to blow a fuse. Sparks danced around between wires and circuits, and he had to physically pull himself in. He was never going to get anything done if he started his day short-circuiting. He trained his emotions back. Smile, the camera’s on again!

“While that may be the case, Vel, I think it’s probably better if half of hell doesn’t think I got mauled by a bear, hm?”

She actually looked upset by the idea of not sharing it. He can already tell she tacked on a few hearts across the pic. The taglines, ‘Vee life’ and ‘Vee with the dog he didn’t want’, were all set and ready to go.

A game show thinking sound went off his speakers as a thought came to mind. “Oh, here’s an idea, why don’t you just edit it a bit, so I look more put together when you post it? Don’t you have better pictures of me on the asleep on the couch?”

Usually, he was speaking to Val like he was a misbehaving child, but Velvette earned it a few times. Like right now, when she was acting like a kid who was told they had to see the doctor before getting a lollipop.

“Fine!” She huffed. “And don’t be surprised when everyone’s up in arms to watch your new presentation.”

She grabbed the kid by the scruff of his neck and walked them both back to her room.

What presentation-? Oh, yeah. Headsets. The whole reason he was currently suffering Velvette’s added attention right now. Well, if it gets him more viewers…it should be worth it. It better be worth it.

Though, he did double check on Alastor’s little gang. Still panicked, it seemed. Still had no idea where the kid was. Good. His little media silencing was doing the trick then. Yet…he knew even he couldn’t keep it up forever. Someone would let it slip. That could lead to some trouble, given the kind of reaction the king of hell seemed to have. Honestly, he didn’t realize anyone would miss him this much. Lucifer hardly went out, now he was patrolling the streets with his daughter like he was desperate to find the family dog. And he wanted no part of that fight.

Hm. As far as he knew, the kid still owned his soul. Maybe it was about time he wrote up a contract. File that under things to do for later.

For now, there was work to do.

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8/ Part 9/ Part 10

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #hazbin hotel ficlet #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel fanfic #the vees #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel valentino

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woodyallen2 · 4 months ago

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Pentax 645Z Review

Medium-format cameras offer truly spectacular resolution, but until now, it's always come best camera alongside a difficult compromise. With the Pentax 645Z, that changes. Building on 2010's 645D, the Pentax 645Z offers features that are rare or in some cases unique in a medium-format camera. Pick up its weather-sealed body, and you'll find both live view and video capture on offer, not to mention an extremely wide sensitivity range, 27-point phase-detect autofocus system -- and compared to rivals, very swift performance too! And of course, you'll get the incredible detail-gathering capability of medium-format, plus a really big, bright viewfinder. Is it time you considered moving up from full-frame? Read on and find out!

Pros Phenomenal resolution and detail; Great high ISO performance; Rugged, weather-sealed body; Huge, bright viewfinder; Fast autofocus works well in low light; Swift performance for a medium-format camera; Good battery life; Shoots Full HD video

Cons Quite bulky compared to an APS-C or full-frame DSLR; Autofocus points clustered near center of frame; Most lenses aren't weather-sealed or optimized for digital; Prone to aliasing artifacts (but so are most high-end cameras these days); Attracts a lot of attention from passers-by

Price and availability Available since June 2014, the Pentax 645Z is priced at US$8,500 body-only.

Back in early 2010, Pentax launched the 645D, a medium-format digital SLR that it had been developing for the previous five years. It might have been a long time coming, but it was nonetheless exciting for it. The 645D leapfrogged rivals Canon, Nikon and Sony with two-thirds greater sensor area than a full-frame sensor, yielding a unique look and shallower depth of field. At the same time, it was vastly more affordable than offerings from medium-format makers like Hasselblad and Phase One, yet rugged enough to be used in the field.

Pentax 645Z Review -- Front view with lens The reason Pentax -- since taken over by Ricoh -- could offer its camera at a more attractive price-point than other medium-format products was pretty simple. Much of the design work for the 645D could be shared with the company's mass market, APS-C DSLRs, where Hasselblad and Phase One -- neither of which sells consumer SLRs -- had to bear the entire cost of development solely with their medium format products.

While Pentax lacked (and indeed, still lacks) a full-frame DSLR, the 645D served both as an aspirational model for the enthusiasts to look up to, and as something genuinely different to attract pros for whom that resolution and medium-format look was more important than high-speed capture. And boy, did it ever offer a lot of resolution by 2010 standards. (In fact, it's only recently that we've started to see cameras with smaller sensors catching up.) When we first put the 645D in our lab, we were amazed to find that it picked up details we'd never even noticed in our test scenes -- details that we couldn't even see with our own eyes, until we pulled out a magnifying glass to confirm them.

Pentax 645Z Review -- Weather seals Just like the medium-format film cameras in whose footsteps it followed, the 645D was never going to be a mass-market camera. Medium-format is an even smaller niche than it was in the film days, but the 645D was nonetheless a very important camera for the company, and its followup -- the Pentax 645Z -- is no less important.

Just like its predecessor, the Pentax 645Z shares much with Ricoh's flagship APS-C DSLRs -- and with four years of development having taken place on the APS-C front since the 645D was launched, there was no shortage of new features for it to inherit. But the most important feature of them all is at its very heart, a brand-new, Sony-sourced 51-megapixel CMOS image sensor. It's coupled to a PRIME III image processor, as first seen in the K-3, and the 645Z also inherits that camera's 27-point SAFOX 11 autofocus and 86,000 pixel RGB metering systems.

The 645Z's new image sensor allows a spectacularly wide sensitivity range, especially by medium-format camera standards, covering everything up to ISO 204,800 equivalent. It also provides both live view and Full HD movie capture capabilities, neither of which its predecessor was capable of. And performance has taken a big step forwards, at least compared to other medium-format cameras. This still isn't a sports shooter, but it'll shoot at almost triple the speed of the 645D. You'll also be able to review photos post-capture in less than half the time.

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mil-doo · 5 months ago

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First Film Camera Quick Guide!

I was putting together a list for a partner who's been interested in buying a film camera that can do a little more than his point and shoot and it was recommended to me that I share the picks I sent him!

This is by no means comprehensive but these are the four that come to mind for me. I've kept the options $200 and below (with lens, based on ebay listings) with the idea being if this is your first film camera, or first film SLR, you probably don't want to spend much more than that.

For anyone who's been shooting for a while who has some other options to share please feel free to mention them so nothing gets overlooked!

Nikon F4 ($200)

Pros: It was Nikon's first professional auto focus camera and also has multiple auto exposure modes from full auto, to aperture and shutter speed priority! It has great build quality, Nikons are known to be indestructible. It has advanced metering to help make sure everything in the frame is exposed properly. The F mount has been around for 70 years and counting and has the largest library of lenses available, many of which are fairly inexpensive. It also has the best viewfinder on this list for glasses wearers due to its size!

Cons: It's a tank! It's big and chunky and much like many other auto focus film cameras of the era it has that ugly DSLR look. It has a Swiss army knife worth of features many of which you may never use!

Canon EOS Rebel GII (>$100)

Pros: You can get the body and a lens for under $100 making it the cheapest option on this list! It's capable of auto focus and a number of different exposure modes that let you learn various settings or take pictures with the ease of a point and shoot. The EOS mount lasted for 30+ years so there's a wide variety of lenses across a wide spectrum of prices.

Cons: It's an enthusiast grade camera with consumer grade build quality and a somewhat limited feature set for a late era film SLR --but all the right features are included. It's big, chunky, kinda ugly.

Olympus OM-2 ($150)

Pros: It's really small for a professional camera! It has that classic film SLR look, and it was in FLCL! It's manual focus, but does have some auto exposure tools to assist you. You'll have to dial in aperture to your liking but shutter speed can be determined for you. You can grab one of these with a lens for around $150.

Cons: It will have a steeper learning curve than the auto focus cameras on this list. The OM mount library is pretty limited and while the 50mm lens you probably get with it will be cheap most other focal lengths get a little more pricey due to availability.

Nikon FE ($200)

Pros: Another small manual focus camera with auto exposure features! It uses the F mount so it's an easy system camera to grow into if you think you'll want to experiment with different focal lengths along the way! It's a Nikon so it'll probably outlast us all.

Cons: It's pricier up front than the OM-2 and if you don't think you'll want to experiment with different focal lengths down the line it probably isn't worth it!

Point & Shoot!

If you're looking for a point and shoot my main recommendation is to buy anything that's $50 or less. They all more or less work the same and they're all ticking time bombs of 90s consumer electronic goodness.

Facebook market place is a sadly a great place to find them, and where I got my beloved little Olympus MJU for $20 three years back!

Final Frame

Like I said up top, none of this is definitive! If you find something you think you can grow into that gets you excited to get out and shoot that's the camera for you! The most important thing is to have fun and make some art! Enjoy <3

#35mm film #photography #film photography #cameras #film cameras #camera gear #buyers guide #nikon f4 #canon eos rebel gii #olympus om2 #nikon fe #point and shoot cameras #film slr

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zagrebist · 9 months ago

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Meet another photographer: Clara, a soulful photographer whose photography journey began in the vibrant streets of Buenos Aires and continued in our lovely Zagreb. 📸✨

"As a kid, I started documenting whatever was going on around me, probably unconsciously imitating my dad who's a great photographer. But it was not until my 20s while traveling that I realized that the camera served me as a means of expression. These travels were a turning point in my approach to photography. Now, after almost 8 years in Zagreb, the camera has become a really good companion of mine. The fact that it's such a safe city makes it easy to walk around with a camera, and here, my love for street photography developed."

Sundays find her at Britanski Trg, where she shares her art with the world. 🎨 This bustling square has become her muse, inspiring a new project: 'Slices of Quotidian Life, Portions of Daily People.' From extravagant characters to vibrant colors and curious objects, Clara captures the essence of the market scene, fearlessly asking strangers to share their stories through portraits. 📸

"Although the themes and styles of my photos vary depending on what lens I’m using or what spot I’m in, I’ve realized that what I’m most drawn to is the fleetingness of life and the beauty that lies in it. Every moment is unique and unrepeatable. Once it’s over, it’s gone forever. Life is beautiful, and like my friend Julio Cortázar said: "entre las muchas maneras de combatir la nada, una de las mejores es sacar fotografías."✨️

》 join Clara on her journey to seize life's fleeting beauty: @stayclasi & @clasiness 《

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dweemeister · 11 months ago

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The Robe (1953)

Henry Koster’s The Robe, distributed by 20th Century Fox, appeared near the beginning of an era where religious epics and sword-and-sandal films became massive box office draws worldwide. Cecil B. DeMille’s Samson and Delilah (1949) and Mervyn LeRoy’s Quo Vadis (1951) had already laid the foundation on which Koster’s film, adapting Lloyd C. Douglas’ novel of the same name, would find its success. Despite The Robe being highly influential in Hollywood and becoming the highest-grossing film of 1953, the likes of DeMille’s The Ten Commandments (1956) and William Wyler’s Ben-Hur (1959) overtook it artistically and financially – no shame there, as those are two far superior films.

So what is The Robe’s claim to movie history beyond its initial theatrical earnings? When The Robe first came to theaters, 20th Century Fox advertised it as the first film ever made in CinemaScope. Created by Fox’s president, Spyros P. Skouras, CinemaScope was a format in which a widescreen camera lens contracted its widescreen shots onto regular 35mm film and, during theatrical projection, another lens would de-contract the image from the 35mm film in order to project a widescreen format. Theaters would only need to make minor, inexpensive modifications to their projectors in order to show a film in true CinemaScope, a 2:55:1 widescreen aspect ratio. Almost all other films were shot in the Academy ratio at the time (1.37:1, close to the 4:3 ratio – think: black bars on the left- and right-hand sides of a widescreen monitor – seen on many older standard computer monitors and televisions). With increasing competition from television, Fox executives believed CinemaScope could be a way to lure audiences back into theaters. Despite this overreaction from Fox’s executives (as well as the other major Hollywood studios), the legacy of CinemaScope’s innovation is still apparent today. Seven decades later, widescreen formats, not the Academy ratio, are the default in film and television.

Walking through the markets of Rome, returning Roman Empire tribune Marcellus Gallio (Richard Burton) reunites with his childhood sweetheart, Diana (Jean Simmons), who is now promised to Marcellus’ rival, Caligula (an always-sneering Jay Robison). Not long after, Marcellus – out of pettiness rather than financial sense – outbids Caligula for the Greek slave, Demetrius (Victor Mature). Marcellus immediately frees Demetrius, but Demetrius thinks of himself as honor-bound to stay by Marcellus. Elsewhere, an incensed Caligula reassigns Marcellus to Palestine – which, to the film’s Roman characters, might as well be the armpit of the Roman Empire. Marcellus and Demetrius go to Jerusalem, where they witness a man named Jesus enter the city, heralded by crowds of Jews greeting him with palms. Several days later, Judean Governor Pontius Pilate (Richard Boone) orders Marcellus to crucify Jesus on Calvary. Marcellus executes the order but, during and after the crucifixion, witnesses and experiences supernatural events. Demetrius, who has become a follower of Jesus during that week, obeys Marcellus when he asks him to fetch Jesus’ robe. The moment Marcellus dons the robe, he suffers something like a seizure. He falls out with Demetrius, and spends the rest of the film reckoning with his conscience over his role in Jesus’ crucifixion.

The film also stars Michael Rennie as Peter, Dean Jagger as Justus, Torin Thatcher as Senator Gallio, and Ernest Thesiger as Emperor Tiberius. Michael Ansara and Donald C. Klune are both uncredited as Judas Iscariot and Jesus, respectively.

The Robe has the misfortune of peaking in the first half. The adapted screenplay from Gina Kaus (1949’s The Red Danube), Albert Maltz (one of the blacklisted Hollywood Ten; 1950’s Broken Arrow), and Philip Dunne (1941’s How Green Was My Valley) is at its most interesting whenever Marcellus and Demetrius find themselves at odds with the other. In the scenes they share together, that happens often. But when Demetrius disappears after their disagreement over Jesus’ robe midway through, the film begins to sag with no foil for Burton to play off of.

For the entirety of this film, Richard Burton’s acting is overwrought. Burton, who had just arrived in Hollywood the year before to star in My Cousin Rachel (1952), is leaning too deeply into his theatrical roots here. His grandiose exclamations, stiff facial acting, and inconsistent line delivery result in a performance that is easily the weakest part of this film (Jean Simmons is also guilty, to a far lesser degree, of these same flaws in her performance). The Robe requires Burton’s Marcellus to undergo a spiritual conversion – becoming an adherent of Jesus despite following orders to crucify him, a developmental arc more dramatic than any other character’s in this film. Burton’s inability to convincingly sell this conversion (the stoic masculine tension, which some will interpret as coded homosexuality, between Burton’s Marcellus and Mature’s Demetrius does not help) weakens the film’s spiritual power.

Instead, it is Mature who is The Robe’s reliable scene-stealer. Mature, at one time likened to a “miniature Johnny Weissmuller”, has the classical Greek physique that, frankly, Burton does not. And in contrast to Burton at this time in their careers, Mature was more capable of a nuanced performance, as evidenced in his roles as Doc Holliday in My Darling Clementine (1946) and Nick Bianco in Kiss of Death (1947). As Demetrius, his soul hardened through his enslavement, there remains hope for a life free from the yoke of the Roman Empire and its callous slave masters. One sees it in his face during Holy Week, culminating with seeing Jesus dying on the cross. His faith is there, too, during a torture scene upon his return to Rome and an encounter with Peter. Amid miracles and cruelties, Mature’s Demetrius is simply the most compelling character of The Robe and the viewer – through Mature’s performance, especially in contrast to those of Jean Simmons and Richard Burton’s – can discern his genuine turn of faith. The Robe’s failure to showcase this inner awakening more believably is the fault of its two central actors and its screenplay; Mature’s performance and Demetrius’ characterization are all that saves the narrative.

One aspect of Christianity that The Robe captures confusingly (and oxymoronically) is the insignificance of Judea and the prominence of early Christianity in Rome in the time immediately following Jesus’ crucifixion. Oftentimes in Biblical epics, Judea is a centerpiece of the Roman Empire when, in truth (and in The Robe), it was a relative backwater. By Caligula’s reign between 37 and 41 CE, Christianity almost certainly would not have had a substantial presence in Rome at that time. So while Caligula would probably see Christianity as a threat, the film’s decision to treat the early Christians as a clear and present danger to his rule and the Roman state religion is the film’s glaring historical inaccuracy. The Robe – the book and the film – muddies the timeline from Jesus’ crucifixion to the film’s final scene in Caligula’s court. The relative suddenness of the Roman Empire seeing the early Christians as a very minor cult into becoming an Empire-wide menace is difficult to reconcile.

With few other post-silent film era Biblical epics as a guide, The Robe helps set the aesthetic of its fellow Biblical epics and sword-and-sandals movies going forward through its costumes and production design. The work of costume designers Charles LeMaire (1950’s All About Eve, 1956’s Carousel) and Emile Santiago (1952’s Androcles and the Lion, 1958’s The Big Country) is resplendent, regardless of either the Roman or Judean setting. Art directors Lyle R. Wheeler (1939’s Gone with the Wind, 1956’s The King and I) and George Davis (All About Eve, 1963’s How the West Was Won) and set decorators Walter M. Scott (All About Eve, 1965’s The Sound of Music) and Paul S. Fox (The King and I, 1963’s Cleopatra) all make full use of the CinemaScope format and color to enliven the scenery – a sumptuous visual treat for the viewer, and, to reiterate, setting a standard that the crew of The Ten Commandments and Ben-Hur both would study and surpass.

Of all of 20th Century Fox contracted stalwarts behind the camera, composer Alfred Newman was the studio’s most important figure. If Fox’s executives needed a composer to craft a score for what they would consider would be their prestige motion picture of the year, Newman – who composed the original 20th Century Fox fanfare and its CinemaScope extension (the extension, which is now inextricable from the fanfare, was first introduced in 1954’s River of No Return) – was almost always their first choice.

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In one of Newman’s finest scores of his career, it is his choral compositions, with incredible help from his longtime choral supervisor Ken Darby, that form the score’s emotive spine. Jesus’ motif, shared between wordless choir and strings, appears almost immediately, in the opening seconds of the “Prelude”. During the many invocations of a Messiah before Jesus’ first physical appearance in The Robe, his motif shifts, changes form, and modulates – imparting not spiritual comfort or devotion, but a mysteriousness and otherworldliness. When Jesus (whose face we never see) first appears in Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, the cue “Passover/Palm Sunday” represents one of the rare juxtapositions of the brass-heavy martial music representing the Roman presence in Judea and Jesus himself. The modulation to a major key at 1:22 in this cue, with festive percussion, also includes one of the only instances of celebratory choral music in the score. Jesus’ motif in “Passover/Palm Sunday”, appears at 2:26 – cementing his (and Christianity’s) association with the cue, and appearing as the only instance in which one might consider this motif triumphant.

Choruses, which Western viewers so often associate in religious movies as angelic musical devices, become mournful in “The Crucifixion” – arguably the standout cue of Newman’s score. Even though one might be well aware of Jesus’ death and can anticipate a turn in the music (starting moments earlier in “The Carriage of the Cross”), it is startling to hear Newman’s composition change so rapidly. But it is in these several minutes depicting Jesus’ final moments that Newman, with modifications to his harmonies and orchestration, transforms Jesus’ motif to evoke its tragic dimensions. It is magnificent scoring from Newman, and this is not even mentioning his wonderful demarcation of Roman and Judean identities through his score.

In a film about faith – how it comforts, destroys, heals, and vexes – one wishes that the characterization of The Robe’s supposed lead characters in Marcellus and Diana could feel more plausible. The film’s final scene, possibly allegorizing of screenwriter Albert Maltz’s travails as a blacklisted figure in Hollywood, is decently powerful, but it needs far more storytelling support from numerous scenes preceding it.

As it is, the film’s expressive power lies within Demetrius and Victor Mature’s performance. So how fortunate that, because Fox also wanted to make a sequel to The Robe even before it finished production, Mature also signed a contract to appear in a sequel. Nine months after The Robe made its theatrical debut, Victor Mature starred in Demetrius and the Gladiators, directed by Delmer Daves and also seeing Michael Rennie and Jay Robinson reprise their roles as Peter and Caligula, respectively. Though it did not top the box office for that year like The Robe did, Demetrius and the Gladiators was a financial boon for Fox.

With Hollywood’s major studios always ready to respond to the box office successes of their rivals, The Robe helped make possible the decade of Biblical and sword-and-sandals epics to come – and the required viewings for many a Sunday School student in the years hence. These films were Studio System Hollywood in full maximalism, adopting human and tactile scales seldom seen today.

Yet outside of churchgoers, The Robe – for its CinemaScope and genre-specific innovations – has seen its standing slip gradually over the years, no thanks to the reputations of better movies of this tradition and, regrettably, decisions to keep 20th Century Fox’s valuable past under lock and key. 20th Century Fox’s refusal to distribute their classic films more often and more widely – before and after the studio’s 2019 takeover by the Walt Disney Company (and post-takeover, I believe the situation is now worse) – is resulting in films like The Robe slip through the proverbial cracks of film history, sights unseen for younger film buffs. That is unfortunate, especially as The Robe, almost incidentally (and no matter my aforementioned criticisms of the work itself), continues to quietly wield, by virtue of being the first CinemaScope film, a remarkable influence over cinema worldwide.

My rating: 6/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog. Half-points are always rounded down.

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

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