#anyway there's the camera they custom built again also

[thewhumpcaretaker]

5. What kind of phone do they have and what does it look like?

8. What clubs would they have been in while in high school or college?

29. What’s a memorable moment from their childhood?

For Adelais and Ninlen?

YESSS I get to talk about Korsaivar technology!!

Adelais

5. What kind of phone do they have and what does it look like?

Adelais has a top-of-the-line cell phone, and to explain what that means, I have to explain a bit about tech in this universe. Since it's all mana based, it operated off of intention. There are no buttons. The entire user interface is just...holding the screen and thinking of what you want it to do and where you want text to appear. It does contain things that vaguely resemble microchips inside of it, but they wouldn't actually work without magic. The technology to make computers function hasn't actually been discovered - they just got halfway there and let magic do the rest. Adelais' phone is a rectangle of white frosted glass with gold trim in sort of art nouveau patterns, a speaker, and a camera. Camera phones have only recently become common - think early 2000s. Adelais' phone is custom built for him with special security features to avoid hacking. It would be quite hard for anyone to use it without his permission.

8. What clubs would they have been in while in high school or college?

Adelais didn't attend normal school. He worked with private tutors. However, he does associate with certain clubs, including sharpshooting (with Rodrick) and chess. Also an automotive club. Very exclusive, focused on custom vehicles.

29. What’s a memorable moment from their childhood?

I'm going to do a sad one, because of course (and because the ask above inspired me):

Adelais once made friends with a child of one of the servants. He wanted to go to school with that child, and asked if he could do that instead of being tutored. But he wasn't allowed. His parents told him that he shouldn't want to play with rabble anyway, and punished him for the suggestion by taking away the wooden swords that the two children had been playing with. After that, Adelais felt ashamed that he'd wanted to be friends, and started bullying the other child until the servant stopped bringing him to the palace altogether, and Adelais was mostly alone again.

Ninlen

5. What kind of phone do they have and what does it look like?

Ninlen's phone works the same way as Adelais', but it is not as high tech. The difference between "high tech" and not is mostly the responsiveness. You have to think harder about what you intend to do, and perhaps even input some magic yourself, when operating a cheap phone. And it may be easier for others to fool the phone into thinking they are you, and essentially hack it. Ninlen's phone was just supplied by the palace with extra monitoring and tracking on it, so it isn't anything fancy. His old phone was also supplied by his employer. Both were simple devices, with an unadorned case.

8. What clubs would they have been in while in high school or college?

Ninlen didn't even have time for classes, let alone clubs. My beloved high school dropout...however, if he had been able to take part in a club, I think he would've liked creative writing or literature. Probably some athletics as well - he likes to be outdoors.

29. What’s a memorable moment from their childhood?

One thing I don't think I've talked about at all is Ninlen's father. He abandoned the family when Ninlen was still a baby, but Ninlen has a few memories from before that time. The strongest one is just sitting in his crib, looking through a doorway, while his parents argued quite viciously. He was too young to understand what they were talking about, and only perceived his father as a threat to his mother, nothing more.

Maybe it's for the best that he left.

[ocdhuacheng]

What about emulsion plates make them still applicable for variables or quasars? Is it because they aren't prone to heat-related noise like CCDs?

its less about the properties of the plates themselves but rather increasing the amount of data we have. today we have big sky surveys like sdss and gaia (and lsst + ls4 which im really excited about) so we have some pretty good data on what stars and galaxies have looked like in the past couple of decades, but if we want to see more long term changes that occur we also need older data, from before these surveys went online. because...... a lot of things dont change on decade level timescales. (lots of things dont change on century level timescales either but theres nothing we can do about that can of worms u_u) thats where the plates come in. because right now they are largely sitting unused in vaults. (climate controlled vaults tho) so my professor was like. we have a lot of data we might as well find a use for it. bc there are projects where its really helpful to have old ass data.

the main issue is coming up with a way to digitize the plates that is both as accurate as possible and affordable so people wouldn't necessarily need a super fancy high tech scanner to work with the data (harvard has also had digitization projects going way back, so the stuff we were doing was similar, but our different goal was checking the feasibility of digitizing with commercial scanners rather than custom built ones). anyway, so we were basically doing noise reduction tests a lot (cuz every scanner will introduce noise), making sure that the measurements on the plate hold up to measurements from modern space based cameras (the ones we tested did), and figuring out how to archive them in a systematic way along with their metadata so they are easy to access (that part is big bc there are like. at least a couple hundred thousand plates in this particular observatory iirc). So like the main point of the project was the digitization and archiving, but in order to test our methods we each did separate projects involving variable stars and quasars and spectra and comparing data on these objects to data from sdss and gaia. this was several years ago tho. after i moved back home in early 2022 i did some remote work, also snooping around in libraries at like, columbia and vassar for the historians of the group (i have a lowkey ridiculous nyc pizza story from one of those trips) bc they also have their own projects going on, but since then i havent been involved in what theyre doing currently. (i did meet with my professor and the head librarian in january when i visited campus again but yeah. it was really nice seeing them again.)

[reversemoon255]

RX-78-lā-III Lah Gundam

I enjoyed Metaverse. It managed to (occasionally nonsensically) include everything you'd probably want it to. Battles between the main characters, plenty of both speaking and background appearances, a decently fun and very Build-y plot. And, importantly, it's the perfect length for this type of program, being long enough to achieve what it needs to without overstaying its welcome. My one thing is, while I understand the importance of having Rio as a new player, I feel the story would have had more of an impact is Seria was the main character, considering the final encounter.

Anyway, they explain in the instructions that 'Lā' is the Hawaiian word for sun. That's cute. You'd think it'd use some brighter colors if that's the case, but I like the concept behind this one. It's Rio's first real Gunpla made for battling, so it uses a cheaper, easier kit as a base. It also has a level of customization to it around what we see in GBF, as it has a new helmet, shoulders, front skirt, knees, backpack, and weapons. Everything you need to make your kit just distinct enough.

While there are a few different pieces, this is just the Entry Grade RX again, and there's very little different between them. The only real specific thing to mention would be the backpack storage for the Beam Lā Naginata isn't very solid. They do include parts to build the V2 seen in episode 1 apart from the shield and bazooka. As I was also messing with my original EG during photos, it feels kinda loose, so I worry about this thing's longevity, though it's a very cheap and main character suit, so it shouldn't be hard to get another one down the road.

The Details: Most of what I did was panel lining, as the EG is pretty good about colors. I did add metallic red to the inside of the forehead crest and metallic blue to the peripheral cameras, and yellow to the knees for screen accuracy.

Overall, it's a cute kit. If you haven't built the EG RX, or even if you have, it's a fun day's build.

[knowlessman]

a whole month? …eh. I believe it. bnha s6e21-25. (maybe I should start posting these on masto or something, when I start watching something else anyway? or biksy, but character limit… maybe having a character limit again will be good tho)

okay that shot of the spears through the windshield and then swinging the camera to the side to show all might jumping out, that's some Good Shit, I legit thought maybe he was dead for a sec there -- yo. not to ref a movie that is probably triggering to watch for many people, but All Might just did the ending of Punch Drunk Love to these jokers (I have no idea if I would call it a "good" movie, but it is very watch-an-autistic-person-have-some-very-bad-experiences-but-then-be-kind-of-awesome-for-a-minute and… idk, I kinda hope not many people find it funny)

"I can't sense any murderous intent" eagerly listens to try and pick out That One Edgy Japanese Word I Know hellyeah

"I don't need to run. I just need some time." blinks whytf is he doin squats. little shit has too many powers, I forget what all he's got in there

nagant: "I'll hold this guy who was torturing his own daughter for money hostage!" "not really; shoot the little bastard, see if I care"

"If you can decide to apologize to Eri, I'll do what Lady Nagant promised." …uh. tell me you're not about to inflict this guy upon Eri, no way in heaven or hell does he deserve that

"in two months, I was supposed to deliver the target" okay lemme get this straight. you were supposed to not only capture deku, not only hold him prisoner, but hold him for TWO. MONTHS. yo, a full-scale custom-built SCP chamber probably couldn't hold this kid for longer than a week.

(all for one's proximity hologram and bomb) now imagine if that proximity sensor had been set off by a squirrel. they get here and it's been a smoking crater for a week and there are no clues as to why. EVERYBODY gets to look like an idiot. -- I think this is why I'm so tempted to make my ttrpg villains really stupid. the perceived stakes plummet, but it's just so damn funny.

(deku fighting the guy what controls ppl) "if there is one thing midoriya needs right now…" clearly it's an assist from very literally the last ally I would want in a fight involving human shields -- bakugo (talking about deku and all might): "those two shouldn't be left alone together!" dude. …dude. … 'XDDD DUDE. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS CHARACTER SUPPOSED TO BE? WHAT WAS HE EVER SUPPOSED TO BE?

"I'm fine." yeah, you're doing just peachy. you just got bodied by a handful of normies with sticks and stones.

"deku, there's still stuff I need to say to you" OH IS THERE, MISTER BAKUGO? AFTER ALL THESE FUCKING YEARS YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY? AFTER ALL THESE YEARS YOU STILL HAVEN'T SAID ENOUGH? -- "It's not something that'll work itself out just by saying it out loud" oh fuck you. god damn it. -- …now that he's trying to kill himself like you told him to. now. fuck this guy. -- now that he's trying to kill himself for, what, the umpteenth time probably. fuckin rock lee dumbass is always doing this

THIRTEEN HAS A HUMAN HEAD????? what the fuck. the vacuum cleaner is just a fucking anime character in a suit with a buzz lightyear whoosh helmet. is the fucking washing machine also just a whole-ass human in a costume

-- it took me a hot three minutes to dig this up and vomit words onto it so yall better laugh. ah who am I kidding, everything I do I do for me

"UA can move!" dude. what did you spoil that for. you don't just outright tell the audience that you're gonna put an entire setting on legs. you bide your time and then just do it. -- …oh. you just installed a subway system. my guy, is it even an anime if you're not animating something that people are living on and entering it in a slapfight?

"will things go back to the way they were before the inevitable collapse of a civilization where most people are born with instant-kill powers and they get exponentially stronger over time?" got any other stupid questions?

…yeah. still don't understand Stain. "look! look at what that woman is doing!" yeah, she's taking down the I Am Not Here sign because of hero worship. hell, trust a zealot to break out of prison, find a post-apocalypse, and have zero inclination to find out what's been happening since he was gone.

no spoiler, eh. no Marvel post-credits scene, either. …no cliffhanger. -- s7 is 21 eps. …thought about taking a break and watching something else, bebop or dungeon meshi or something and then coming back to finish this, but idk. guess I'll see.

[pinkyjulien]

Hey Anon! 👋

There's actually different ways to tackle it and it all depends on how the model you wish to port is built!

▶ Example 1: Model has a Rig with custom Controls

Most models that are shared for 3D render purposes will come with their own rigs and their own skeleton controls; this is the easiest type of model to refits to CP77's A pose

Select the RIG controls and enter Pose Mode, you'll be able to rotate the controls to fit the model over the CP77 body

If the submeshes don't follow the rig, make sure they have an Armature modifier with the correct Rig in it

▶ Example 2: Model has a Rig

This method will be similar to the first example! It's a tiny bit 🤏 less practical cause you'll have to find the correct bone to move around to affect the sleeves

Enter Pose Mode and rotate the bones around I recommend also moving the bones or/and the model itself As long as it fit the cp77 model, don't really pay attention to if the model fit the original rig it came with (you will delete it later anyway)

▶ Example 3: No Rig we Die Refit Like Men

If you're porting models directly from ArtStation, Sketchfab or other 3D hosting website, you'll probably get a simple non-rigged model

Depending on the pose, I won't lie, this is a pain in the ass 💀✋ Since your model seems to be in T-pose from your description, I choose a T-posing model as well to show you how to tackle it

You'll need to work in Edit Mode with the desired submesh selected (if you have multiple submesh, I recommend merging everything together and un-merge them later)

I recommend first working on the front, you can fix your camera by clicking on the "Y" here

Toggle the X-ray vision to be able to select back faces

And enable Proportional Editing, this will come in extremly handy and allow us to "smoothly" rotate / move / edit part of the mesh without creating "staircase" and harsh corners

Since we want our pose to go from T-pose to A-pose, I'll first select the whole arm; press "G" to reduce the Proportional Editing's effect radius (we don't want the chest to be affected)

I'll first slightly rotate the sleeve with the Green ring

Notice how the shoulder area follow the rotation as well

Without un-selecting the sleeve, press "G" to enter free movement - increase the proportional editing radius just a little bit to affect all the shoulder - and move the sleeve downward

Do this again and again until the sleeve is in the correct position I recommend changing the selection often during the procedure

(Yeah, you'll need a lot of patience)

There will be some honkiness near the shoulder, armpit and chest area; you can ofc edit them once the sleeve is in place!

Press on the "X" to change the camera view, and you can now do the exact same on the side now 🤠

Once you're satisfied with the overall angle of the sleeve, you can go in and edit all the little details like the elbow, the cuffs, the armpit ,the shoulder, etc etc

And do the same on the other sleeve, of course! 😅

I also recommend using the "hiding" shortcut (H) to hide part of the mesh while you refit (but be cautious not to accidently hide a part that is close and might be affected by the proportional editing, otherwise it might leave some gaps or extreme stretch! Nothing unfixable, but still annoying) (here for example, the right side of the model (our left) is hidden)

Hope this was clear enough to be somewhat understandable, and I wish you good luck! Don't rush it and take your time; make duplicates of your model to save different "states", and save your project often!

Happy modding 🙏

Hi! Can I ask if you perhaps have a tip for refitting sleeves (or trousers or similar stuff) to Cyberpunk? 😭 I want to port a jacket but trying to refit the sleeves (that are higher positioned and straight, which is like, so far off from cp77) is giving me actual nightmares 😭 Please halp

Oh anon I feel you so bad LOL From what I understand you're trying to refit is what we usually call "T pose", CP2077 uses "A pose" (... but in a very different position than most A pose models you'll find online)

I'll be honest that I usually avoid that type of project myself as it requires lots of patience, most of my ports are done with Marvelous Designer combined with a Cyberpunk Model which allows the software to mostly refit it for me.

What you're gonna need is indeed some patience, and moving things around with the scale/rotation/moving tool whilst having Proportional Editing on (if you're in Blender).

@pinkyjulien has way more practice doing that type of manual fitting between these rigs so I'm gonna tag him, as he's offered to add some proper guidance/visuals to help out! <3

[such-a-random-rambler]

*runs in*

I’m not late!!!

First of all HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! @lenle-g

I wrote you some fic! This morning I decided that I hated what I wrote through the week, and scrapped it, and wrote the following this afternoon.

I have no idea what this is but *shrugs* HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANYWAY

EOS is the most intelligent non-human resident of Thunderbird 5, but she isn’t the first. That honour goes to Bunny.  

She started off tiny, the size of a thumbnail, a gift from Gordon on the day John left home to go to college. Gordan had held the tiny plant forward, already named, earnestly explaining that he wanted John to have someone to talk to while he was gone. In some families that might have been a dig at John’s reluctance to talk with new people and his tendency to spend long periods of time holed up in his room studying, and therefore the start of an argument; but coming from this particular brother it was the complete opposite. Gordon was genuinely concerned that John would get lonely and pre-emptively solved the problem.

John treasured that little Opuntia microdasys, the Bunny Ear Cactus, every day while he was away. It sat with him through the long nights of research, helped locate and fix troublesome lines of code and even listened patiently when John vented about the frustrations of his human friends. Bunny was also the first one to hear John present his thesis, and didn’t laugh when he lost his place three times. (Though gave no notable feedback, which would have been helpful.)

Bunny lived on the island for a short time, before Five was built and operational, when she was part of the first load of personal affects John transferred into space. He’d had a small argument with Dad about actually getting her and a few other items on board, it not being space-standard. But one of the best things about running your own space station is that you can re-write any particular rule of your choice, and John had got his way.

She’s installed in her own special compartment in his bunk room, lighting carefully calibrated for growth and a custom irrigation system to keep atmospheric moisture within strict parameters. Most of the family had accepted the plant’s presence as one of John’s quirks, but it wasn’t that he wanted her there: he needed her.

As part of his preparation for the launch of Five John had dug up as many papers interviews as he could find concerning the effects of living in space for extended periods, and one thing that had come up time and again is the sterility of the environment. Filtered air, steel, glass and plastic surrounds. Holo-visuals and radio communication. He would be cut off from everything else alive and that thought scared him more than the dangers of depressurisation.

Bunny – green, growing, happily photosynthesising by his bed – is a much needed contrast to the void outside the window. On days that John is too distracted by the work, and the green and blue marble of the Earth is too far away for it to feel like a real place, the little life of the cactus reminds him that he’s not the only person in the universe.  

On the worst days, missions filled with close calls and near-misses, it’s been Bunny that has heard his whispered fears in the dark. She doesn’t offer any words of comfort of course, but it’s sometimes enough just to speak his failures out loud before they can weigh too deeply on his soul. He speaks to her his promises to do better next time, to not let anyone else down, and she doesn’t reprimand him like Scott would for taking that burden on himself.  

Some things change when EOS emerges – having a constant companion who can speak back is a revelation and a balm to the loneliness that creeps in from the sides after the island has gone to sleep. The midnight confessionals don’t change, however, John still imparts his secret fears to the patient plant who, as ever, accepts them without criticism.  

EOS has never questioned the quiet interactions with Bunny, has never mentioned the secrets that he shares with her. And John ignores it when the main camera housing trails to his bedroom when he’s busy and whispers to the plant in binary. EOS checks on the hydration of the soil and makes minute adjustments to temperature for optimal growth: their silent confidante now has an ever-watchful sister.

[80hd-selkie]

I'm gonna yap and get mushy for a bit, pls bear with me

When I started this piece I hadn't read Over The Threshold, I was simply inspired by Glo's post, but I binged all of it in a single day this week.

Maybe the wrong choice, reading a lot of it at work cos I had a good helping of emotional moments in between customers 😅

Over the Threshold is a beautifully written examination of celebrity and exploitation in the music industry, while also speaking to the universal experiences of being a creative.

There's a bit from chapter 5 that hit me in a very personal place.

"It was just that it had been so long since Suguru had felt genuine excitement about music that he'd started to believe Blue Spring had been a one-off - a lucky break, just like they'd always said. It was almost overwhelming to realise that making art could still move him the way it once had"

After four years I graduated Art School in 2022 and burned out HARD. I had just spent an intense 18 months working on an exhibition that was very personal and vulnerable and I was really proud of it. But as soon as the high of being surrounded by likeminded people and being a full time creative was replaced with a 9-5 retail job to pay the bills, I felt like I'd wasted my time. The imposter syndrome came flooding in. All those hard hours I'd put in and the work I was proud of felt like a fluke. That it was a peak I was never going to reach again. That anything I'd accomplished before was actually a different version of myself and I had lost my ability.

I spent three years too paralysed by fear of "not being good enough" to pick up my drawing tablet or even a pencil.

And then one random morning I saw Glo's post, I watched the MV a dozen times and that lightning strike of inspiration I hadn't felt in ages suddenly hit.

A little over a month (and about 40hours hunched over my ipad) later and here we are.

I'm still struggling with perfectionism and working on this has highlighted some areas I need to improve on but I can genuinely say I'm proud of it.

Some quick process stuff I wanted to share:

This is the original frame from the music video vs my speed sketch

I wasn't sure about my version at first because it felt unsteady. The original has Ten as the central focal point, holding a solid place in the composition, whereas mine with all that empty space behind him gave me the feeling of being on the edge of a freefall.

But I kept thinking about Glo's post and specifically this:

Yet, the repeated note he sings over it in the chorus is the NINTH of the chord! It's unstable! It's bluesy! The focal point of the song is built on a dissonance!

So I leaned into that instability and ran with it. It's evolved to be a bit more steady as I worked on it, but the intention is there.

The whole time I worked on this, Stunner was going platinum in my headphones, and later Glo's Threshold playlist. I kept imagining myself as someone attending one of Satoru's shows, snapping a quick picture that's not "technically good photography" but still captured a moment of magic. One of those coincidentally beautiful photos you see in your camera roll after a gig, bookended by a hundred blurry and overexposed ones.

Anyway, I cannot overstate how much this AU has come to mean to me in the short time since I read that first chapter. I just gotta say THANK YOU GLO! For your passion and for sharing your wonderful work! The love you have for music and for your craft as a writer and for these characters is obvious and it's infectious. This AU has got me by the throat, it's sparked new creative joy for me and I'm so glad to contribute in my own small way 🦭

P.s I've had another lightning strike of inspiration so Suguru+Damocles is up next 😈

'Let me add bass, let me add flow Let me add rhythm, let yourself go Let me know you, let me see you grow cos we’re limitless.’

For @fushiglow

[artificialqueens]

The Scent of Your Rose Perfume (Nicky x Jaida) - Chae

A/N: I’m not dead! I’m so sorry Chapter Five of ViP has taken like a whole-ass month to update, it should be coming… soon-ish? In the meantime, I have a couple Oneshots/super short multichaps planned to take a break and fix my writers block. I am apalled that there isn’t more Jicky literature in this world, they literally act like a couple irl. When Nicky was crying about you-know-what the other day, I was inspired to write this, so blame her haha. Anyways, enjoy! (I also have an AO3 now!)

Summary:

Working at a Chanel store was supposed to be a high class gig. What Jaida Essence Hall was not expecting was the presence of a tall, blonde, drop-dead-gorgeous shady-ass-whore named Nicky Doll, who has a particular interest in being a total bitch.

aka

I was soft for Jicky and my friends helped me come up with this (hiiii 💯)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24474904

—–

Working at Chanel was supposed to be a high class gig.

Beautiful fancy women selling you purses and shoes in a power-cleaned sparking storefront? That sounded like the perfect way to make money to Jaida, and once she walked in for the job interview, it was over; her looks alone could have made her manager of the whole store on the first day.

What Jaida Essence Hall was not expecting was the presence of a tall, blonde, drop-dead-gorgeous shady-ass-whore named Nicky Doll. She fit right in at a first glance—French accent, smooth voice, looked like a fashion model—but was severely juxtaposed by her superpower to read a bitch down for filth while taking a hit from her juul in the back. Nicky was an enigma— a glorious, sexy enigma.

And she was a total bitch.

Exhibit One:

“Good afternoon ma’am,” Jaida smiled at the customer. The woman was wandering aimlessly around the huge store. She seemed like a nice lady, not experienced with the Chanel brand but not clueless either. “How may I help you?”

“I’m actually wondering if there’s a way I can buy clothes from those mannequins?”

Jaida raised an eyebrow. She must have been really rich if she was asking about actual garments. “Yes! You can. What were you interested in?”

“The striped pants, although, I’m not sure they’d look very good on me.”

The honey blonde pursed her lips. “Don’t say that sweetie, do you want to try them on, maybe?”

The customer laughed nervously. “Mmmm, I don’t want to ruin them, you know?”

And before Jaida could tap into her motherly and caring nature, a voice rang out from behind her.

“Those pants will match perfectly to the shirt under your jacket, madame. You’re not going to find ones like those anywhere else,” Nicky carried a purse in her hand, probably on the way to help someone buy it. But, of course, she couldn’t mind her own damn business.

Jaida glared at the platinum blonde, who just smirked back at her through her cherry red Mac lipstick. And then she did the unforgivable:

“I can help you check out, cherie .”

The unsuspecting woman nodded and trotted after the French Fiend, leaving Jaida to stare holes into the back of Nicky’s perfectly ironed blazer.

Exhibit Two:

“Jaida, the sales you’ve been making are insane!” Jackie scanned the documents. “You really are a valuable member of this team, and not just because you’re the prettiest.”

A shit-eating grin smeared itself on Jaida’s face when she turned to Nicky, who just raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“Hear that, Nicolette? I’m the prettiest.”

“For an American.”

Jaida scoffed. “Chile, tell me that when you do better than me.”

“I am doing better, right Jackie?”

The persian manager looked up from what she was doing. “By a little, but you two are our top sellers.”

Nicky looked at the older woman coyly. God, Jaida wanted to punch the expression right off her perfect face. How could someone so disastrously beautiful be such a jackass? Jaida was constantly asking herself, Do I want to kill her, or kiss her?

Meanwhile, Nicky congratulated herself on upsetting and flustering the prettiest girl in the world, again.

Exhibit Three:

Of course Nicky was also friends with Jaida’s friends. Was the older woman expecting for the blonde to hug Heidi and Jan familiarly when they arrived at the bar? No. Did she? Yes.

“Nicky! Wow, when Jaida mentioned your name I didn’t know it was you!” Jan exclaimed when the Frenchwoman air kissed her cheeks.

“Well, there can be only one of me!” Nicky waved, turning to Jaida. “So, you do talk about me.”

“Yes, I talk about how much I hate you,” she rolled her eyes.

“She talks about how she hates you so much she wants to give you a big ol’ smooch,” Heidi teased.

Nicky’s eyes widened, looking at Jaida from across the round table knowingly, sipping her rose wine with a small smile.

“You know what, Heidi? Fuck you!” Jaida could feel her cheeks warm when she shoved her friend in the arm, taking a long swig of wine.

“No, you want to fuck Nicky, not me!”

The other girls, Jan, Jackie, and Crystal, burst out in laughter. Through her embarrassment, Jaida even thought she could see Nicky turn red, too—but of course she’d never admit or show to that. Jaida wasn’t going to admit anything either; she hated Nicky, and that was a fact.

“Jaida, take an Instagram story with me!” Nicky grinned evilly, standing up from her seat and wrapping a skinny arm around the shorter girl’s shoulders. Of course, Jaida forgot that Nicky had amassed quite an Instagram following that didn’t quite match her old-lady job, and mentioning Jaida (who too, was considered a ‘baddie’ and almost matched Nicky’s follower count—) would be good for her brand.

“Whatever you say, chile,” Jaida complied when the other woman turned her camera to themselves. Nicky pressed their heads close together and Jaida could smell her rose perfume and coconut shampoo as they made cute faces for the screen. And then, because of course she did, Nicky placed a ‘friendly kiss’ on Jaida’s cheek, garnering chuckles and ‘awws’ from their friends.

Jaida absolutely despised her.

But damn, she was hot.

——

It was just about time to close up the store, and it was Jaida’s job to check all two floors of the building and help/kick out whoever was left.

Soft music echoed through the little hallway leading to the stairs as Jaida’s heels clicked on each step. The familiar smell of rose perfume filled her nostrils when she approached the second floor, and her eyes darted around to search for a familiar shock of platinum hair.

Near a display of mannequins and a luxury couch is when Jaida spotted Nicky absentmindedly toying with the sleeve of a jacket and humming. She looked beautiful, as always, but there was something about the way her eyes were glassed over and the way she looked so deep in thought that made it impossible for Jaida to look away. Add on the fact that Nicky had such a pretty singing voice—she was a vision.

It took a few moments for the Frenchwoman’s icy blue eyes to meet Jaida’s. Pretty, perfect Jaida. The one who always got mad at Nicky in a way only someone like her would find cute. The one who always spoke her mind and knew exactly what to say and when to say it. The one who Nicky just had to do better than because her face and body were already so perfect, there was not much the blonde could do to one-up her.

Nicky smiled, and Jaida cursed internally when she felt herself get hot again.

“Nobody’s up here, right?” the dark-skinned woman took a tentative step forward, her arms crossed in front of her.

Nicky exhaled a laugh. “No, just me and you.”

“Right. Well, let’s close a few minutes early, then.”

“Mhm,” the blonde nodded, walking towards the other woman in what Jaida thought was her exiting the second floor. She was mistaken.

The taller woman walked straight at Jaida until her back was pressed on a wall, Nicky blocking a view of the marble stairs. Before Jaida could protest, Nicky traced a hand along the side of her cheek and the shorter girl was acutely aware of how she felt her perfectly long fingernail and how that feeling made her feel other things.

“What are you trying to do, Nicky?” Jaida managed to collect herself enough to ask.

“Nothing. I just like the way your face looks, mon chou .”

Jaida couldn’t help but snort and laugh. “You—you what?”

“You’re very pretty, Miss Hall,” her tone was serious, almost sultry.

“I know I am, now-” she paused when Nicky grabbed her chin. “Now, what is this?”

“What is what?” her eyebrow was raised playfully.

Well fuck. Fucking fuck. After all this time of Nicky being a bitch—a beautiful, funny, stupid-ass bitch—Jaida didn’t realize she was being that type of bitch. No, she couldn’t deny her attraction to the French girl, but she didn’t realize those feelings were reciprocated for anything else except teasing.

“Girl, I’m sick of you playing with me. I don’t know if you like girls or what, chile, just tell me.”

“I like you.”

“I like me, too. Now what?” the long haired girl straightened her posture, nearly reaching Nicky’s tall height.

Nicky scoffed, one side of her mouth curled up. “I thought you liked me.”

“Godammit Frenchie,” Jaida rolled her eyes, grabbing the short-haired woman’s wrist and dragging her next door to the dressing rooms. Each one was large, with faux-velvet couches, fresh white walls with black trim, and doors with locks that hit the actual ground. The shorter woman opened one of them, locked the aforementioned door, and gently shoved Nicky against the wall.

“I’m tired of this bullshit, Nicky. Give me everything you’ve got.”

“Merde , I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” Nicky licked her lower lip before roughly slamming her face on Jaida’s.

The first thing Jaida registered when their tongues met was how Nicky tasted like the rose perfume she always wore. The second thing was the release of tension that had built up over the two girls ever since they’d started working together, and god, that felt euphoric.

Nicky pressed their bodies even closer together, hands sifting through Jaida’s hair as she groaned into the kiss. Jaida slid her hands down the blonde’s back, further and further down until she could grope Nicky through the black fabric of her pencil skirt. She giggled in Jaida’s mouth, breaking the kiss to nibble on the shorter girl’s jawline. At that, Jaida squeezed her ass even harder, making Nicky tense up.

“That’s for making me look bad in front of Jackie.”

“Zut.”

“What’d you call me?” Jaida joked, pulling away.

“It means damn or shit, okay?!”

Jaida just kissed Nicky’s neck as a response, biting down gently on her pulse point and making her swear in French—again.

“If Jackie sees a hickey-”

Jaida bit down harder. “That one was for making me look bad in front of my customers.”

“ Jaida,” Nicky gasped.

“Can I take off this stupid uniform?” she fiddled with the buttons on the button up under Nicky’s blazer.

“Only if you do,” the blonde’s hands were at the hem of Jaida’s trousers.

And they followed up on their promises, finding themselves ass-naked on the couch with Nicky straddling Jaida, sucking on her face like she was sucking the beauty right from her mouth.

Jaida was the first to take Nicky’s breast in her hand, rolling the bud in her finger and drawing out muffled moans from the tanned beauty on her legs. She broke the kiss and placed a new one on Nicky’s other boob, swirling her tongue around her nipple in time with her hand. She looked up at Nicky, who was looking at her with the most beautiful expression she’d ever seen: eyes blown out, eyebrows curved upwards, mouth slightly open. When Jaida licked her collarbones and between her cleavage she turned her head upwards and bucked her hips into Jaida’s stomach, a murmured and closed-mouth moan escaping from her.

“Needy Nicky,” Jaida mumbled into her chest.

“What?”

“You tease me with all that, and chile, here you are begging for me?”

“Power bottom.”

Jaida laughed, leaving her breast with a pop and going back to kiss Nicky’s red-stained lips.

Her hand found itself in between Nicky’s legs, feeling the wetness surrounding her core. She gently stroked the folds of her labia, making the Frenchwoman moan quite loudly.

“Moumoune,” Nicky purred. “Go down on me.”

“Needy Nicky,” Jaida lifted the woman off of her, adjusting so that she sat between her legs and Nicky laid on the couch.

“Is that what you’re calling me now?” Nicky’s voice was breathy as Jaida kissed her inner thighs.

“If you get to call me all your weird French nicknames, I’m calling you Needy Nicky,” she bit extra close to Nicky’s core.

“Jaida, please, ” she pulled the beauty’s hair.

“Brat,” she smirked, drawing back. “Apologize for embarrassing me in front of my friends.”

“Jaida, you salope !”

“Hm,” Jaida nearly stood up before Nicky whined.

“I promise I’ll be nicer, ma cherie .”

“I’m holding you to that one,” Jaida continued her assault on Nicky’s legs. “What does salope mean, anyway?”

“Whore.”

Jaida bit skin again, Nicky yelped. “Jeez, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, mon chou .”

“I hope that means ‘darling.’”

Nicky said nothing, the only sound that could be heard was her heavy breathing as Jaida finally reached her center, licking a line up her folds.

“Fuck.”

“That wasn’t French,” Jaida mumbled, before circling her tongue around Nicky’s clit. The blonde arched her back at the touch, attempting to grip the fabric of the couch.

As Jaida flattened her tongue against Nicky’s entrance, the girl let out an uncharacteristically high-pitched sound. When she teased her hole, Nicky squealed more. It was probably the first time Jaida had heard her speechless.

The dark blonde wet a finger and gently placed it inside of Nicky, peeking up to check on her partner.

“God—Jaida, that feels-” she grunted as Jaida curled up further. “You’re so good.”

“You want more?”

“Yes.”

Jaida could have sworn the face Nicky made when she added another finger was the prettiest thing she’d ever seen—adding on the sound that escaped her lips, a sound Jaida could have probably listened to forever.

“Nicky, someone might catch us,” Jaida cooed. The French girl couldn’t choke out a response when Jaida rubbed a thumb over her clit, just another loud moan.

“But you don’t care, do you?”

She shook her head.

“If Jackie came up the stairs, you’d just keep fucking yourself on my fingers if I stopped, right?”

She nodded. For once, Jaida was in control.

The long haired woman’s mouth was back on the bundle of nerves at Nicky’s core, sucking and darting her tongue all over it. Nicky didn’t even recognize her own voice as she kept whining, knocking her head back as she felt the knot in her stomach glow unbearably tight.

Jaida could feel the girl tense around her, so she made sure to keep her steady pace when the sounds in the room turned into staccato yelps.

“Jaida-” was the last thing she whimpered before releasing on her fingers.

Just to smite her, Jaida took the opportunity to place her liquid-coated digits between Nicky’s lips, basically forcing her to lick them clean. There was something satisfying, sexy, exciting, maybe even sadistic, about watching the girl who’d relentlessly sexually frustrated her suck on her hand like a baby.

It took a few moments for the both of them to calm down, Jaida flopping on the couch right next to Nicky and resting her hands on her own chest to steady her breathing.

“So,” she finally said.

“So,” Nicky replied.

“That was good.”

“You’re telling me!” Nicky flipped on her side to face Jaida. “That was—wow.”

“Nice to know I can do something right with you.”

Nicky’s face shifted. “What do you mean?”

“Well you’re always one-upping me, bitch! Better sales, better hair, better face, stealing my customers, stealing my friends—”

“Jaida, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t…” Nicky bit her lip. “I didn’t think it would be that—that noticeable.”

“So you are a bitch on purpose! Chile, I knew it,” Jaida attempted to lighten the mood.

“Honestly, I do it all because I want to prove I’m better than you, when I know I’m not. I have to work my butt off to get all of the things you get by doing nothing, because you’re perfect.”

“Chile! Shut the whole hell up. I work just as hard, if not harder than you. You don’t know what I’ve been through. You see my perfect facade, Nicky.”

The Frenchwoman stared, then smiled. “Well. Can I get to know what’s behind your facade, Miss Jaida?”

She grinned back. “I don’t know, Ms. Doll. You’ll have to take me on a date and see.”

That evening, Jaida could still smell roses on her uniform.

[freewheelshippin]

FIC: “be proud”

Let me indulge in the fantasy that I got to help, just a little bit, in making one of the only ballads on this earth I like. More “utapri characters that aren’t ranmaru” content than usual, especially Ai, since this is vaguely based on their Idol Songs album! 

Content warnings include an allusion to home invasion, Ranmaru’s usual backstory things (i.e. dealing with debt), and some eating/meal scenes. 

Ranmaru was surprised to receive the package, a fairly big box from someone he never expected to get mail from. Something in the pit of his stomach half-expected it to be everything he’d sent her, unused and returned to sender. 

For a second, he thought he was right. It was a similar array of trinkets and colors as the merch she’d designed for his album, but it quickly became obvious this wasn’t his merch, but hers. Trinkets from her shop, like patches and pins, and one of those handmade prints she liked making on weird paper. Candies he didn’t recognize, some American snacks he did, a little box of something that looked homemade with a hand-scrawled label on it. At the bottom, a shirt, printed with a cleaned version of an album art draft he’d especially liked but the agency didn’t approve. Folded within it, a note, written in English on one side and clumsy Japanese on the other. 

Yo, Kurosaki! 

I know I already messaged you thanks for sending me my comp copies of everything, but I wanted to return the favor! You really didn’t have to go out of your way get it to me like that, much less pack in all the other shit you did. But I’m glad you did! It arrived on the day I got another rejection, one I was really hoping would pan out. I got back all the time I would’ve spent feeling sorry for myself and instead just wanted to try again. That’s kind of the message I got from the sound of your album, so I guess it’s appropriate! 

Honestly, even if it was tough figuring things out sometimes, I had more fun on that job than any other one I can think of. You don’t have much to apologize for, I’ve survived way worse than some grumpy e-mails from a cool client, and you actually had pretty good feedback to offer. I think the end result was pretty metal. (Or well, rock, since it’s your shit, after all.) 

If you’re cool with it, I think it’d be fun to keep sharing our work with one another, outside of just being a client and artist. Get some fresh perspectives, you know? You know where to message me if you think so, too. 

-- M 

P.S. You’re the first person to get this custom pick I got designed. Be grateful (LOL). 

Taped to it, there was a pearlescent pick, red and black with white lettering. Ranmaru took it off, careful not to tear the paper, and ran his fingers over it. It wasn’t even close to the type he’d tolerate using if he wasn’t going to finger-pluck his bass. 

He clasped it in his hand, pausing for a moment, before he let out a ‘hmph,’ equal parts amused, relieved, and a little bit giddy. 

--------- 

“...Ranmaru,” Ai said, looking at him with those big saucer eyes. Sometimes Ranmaru felt like the guy never blinked, which made his curious once-overs scarier than he’d ever admit to. 

“What,” he growled back. 

“...according to every piece of data I know about you…” he started. He already didn’t like where this was going. “Nothing would point to you being the cell phone charm type.” 

“So?!” he barked, frowning at Ai as he self-consciously stuffed his phone into his pocket. It buzzed from a message notification, as if on disastrous cue, making a plasticy noise as it rattled against the charm. “What’s your data know about the real heart of people, anyway,” he continued, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair. 

“It hasn’t been wrong about anything yet.” Ai tilted his head. “Why do you have a charm all of a sudden?” 

Because I saw she uses one of mine, Ranmaru answered frantically in his head, thinking back to the video chat they’d had where she showed it off. His hand was in his pocket, muffling his phone buzzing as more messages came in. He ran his fingers over the smooth pick, the subtle grooves where the letters were, the jagged hole he’d poked into it, the string that ran through it and knotted into a hole on his case.  Because she told me about how much she liked it, so I wanted to return the favor. 

“Why is this so goddamn important to you, Ai?” Ranmaru bristled. “Can’t we just get on with work already?” 

Ai stared at him a moment longer before shrugging slightly. “I’m simply curious. What would motivate you to act against your usual protocol seems interesting. But if you won’t tell me, I suppose there’s no use prying, especially when we have work to be done.” 

Ranmaru grunted back, leaning back to the table and looking over the notes. “We’re decided on what we wanna do for our duet, but we still have to decide on a direction for our solo songs on the album. Something that makes each of us stand out but doesn’t ruin the cohesiveness of the whole thing.” 

“You should do something slow,” Ai said, after a moment of thought. 

“Why should I?” Ai should know by now Ranmaru wasn’t about that sort of sound, especially when Ai already had the sad lullabies more than mastered. “Nothing about that’s very rock or wild. It won’t work with my image. Or do whatever that “gap” shit is that people like…” 

“Really?” Ai looked at him again. “Ballads are an intrinsic part of rock music, and wouldn’t it be ideal for communicating feelings that aren’t as energetic as your usual work?” 

“You should’ve just said power ballad in the first place,” Ranmaru grunted, but he had to admit it wasn’t a bad idea. “It’d work better with your usual style. And the duet, from how it’s going so far.” The biggest problem Ranmaru could think of was he couldn’t imagine what on earth he’d want to sing about in one. 

“Then it’s decided,” Ai said decisively. 

“...Oi, Ai, when did I say I agreed to this?” The kind of thing he’d rather shape into a ballad instead of his usual, urging style was a complete mystery, which Ranmaru didn’t like the idea of committing to in a partner project and on a deadline, even if it was months away. But like hell he’d admit that to someone else in Quartet Night, much less Ai, who’d just give him “logical” suggestions Ranmaru already knew he’d hate.  

“Was your reasoning not enough?” Ai tilted his head. Ranmaru met his eye. Something about the curiosity on that blank face felt less pointlessly prying this time. Now it was more like someone who just wanted to see something new. 

Ranmaru couldn’t fault him for that. And he was due to challenge himself in this way, anyways. 

“....Fine. Whatever. That means you can’t do your usual sentimental stuff. You should do something that’ll lift everyone up after the heaviness of the other songs.” 

“That sounds logical,” Ai replied. His eyes moved to Ranmaru’s pocket as it buzzed once again, but quickly turned back as they brainstormed ideas. 

-------- 

He wiped his eyes as he leaned back from the computer, surprised by how quickly and unbidden they came. He hastily tore up a strip of paper and hung it over the camera built into the laptop -- he knew it wasn’t on. This wasn’t a video call. But the idea of someone seeing him like this felt surreal and, frankly, too scary to confront right now. 

They chatted a lot more, now. It’d been about half a year since they’d started talking outside of work. It wasn’t just occasionally sharing art and music with each other anymore, either, it was a big stew of ideas, inspiration. A lot of breaking down what they liked in all the albums they shared with one another, and how they wanted to integrate all that in their work. Her siphoning gear and singing tips off of him, while she broke down expressions and visual composition to a science to help him out with modelling. And amid all that, something easygoing. Complaining about work, about weird clients, about shitty train rides, but also the nice parts of their days, too. 

He’d gotten short with her today, and she got frustrated with him. They argued -- for the first time since they’d tossed aside client-and-professional for friends-and-colleagues -- and it turned out she was as passionate a spitfire as he, assuming she got in the right mood. 

And in the middle of all that furious typing, she paused. 

M: You know, it’s kind of relieving to argue with you like this. 

Ranmaru was so startled, he forgot the point he was making. 

R: what the hell are you talking about?

M: oh, come on, we both know I’ve used diplomacy to handle your grouchiness before, and that worked fine enough then. But I just appreciate that I trust you enough to not take such a safe approach, for once, and the thing you’re most upset about is that I didn’t feel comfortable calling you out on your horseshit sooner.

Ranmaru didn’t have an answer for that as she typed on and off. He imagined if this were a verbal conversation, this would be the point where he’d just listen while she strung her thoughts together -- wordily, but getting to good enough of a point that it was worth letting her meander. 

Instead, she cut right to a point he wasn’t expecting. 

M: hey, I’m not taking back anything I said, but I probably should’ve asked sooner. Are you doing OK? You always get stuck in asshole mode for a reason. I don’t have classes to teach today, so you can bend my ear if you need to. even on voice chat, if you like, japanese or english. 

An uncomfortable wave of relief washed over him. He hadn’t told her about it, but things were the kind of stressful that pushed his stoic approach to its limits. Too many deadlines at work. Too many people there talking, too few saying anything he gave a damn about. Money was tight this month -- the debt collectors suddenly hiked up what he owed, and they’d banged down his door to “tell” him that. And another shitty argument with Camus, after he “freed” all his bananas for some ridiculous flambe parfait he just had to have for lunch on a day when Ranmaru couldn’t afford any. 

This was just how things were. Why was he upset about it now? He was beyond cursing how things had turned out for him. Making useless wishes when there wasn’t anything to do but work and survive until he didn’t have anything to lament. 

M: alright that’s a suspiciously long amount of time between messages for you when you’re riled up. are you OK? It’s fine if you’re not, and it’s fine if you don’t wanna talk to me about it, but i’m here if you want. If something’s really eating at you, that’s more important than me being mad. (for now, anyway)

It felt surreal as he leaned back to the computer and felt his fingers find the keys as he started finding the right words. 

R: it’s not a light subject R: and it’s not on you to deal with it M: LOL bro c’mon. M: I eat heavy for breakfast, and I said I’m here for you. M: lay it on me

He wiped his tears away with his sleeve. It’d been long enough since he’d cried that he didn’t even think about how it’d smudge his makeup and stain his clothes, but he didn’t especially care as he started to explain himself, the words coming out hesitantly until they coalesced into a small cascade of short, tight sentences, heavy with years of restrained sorrow he’d ignored so aggressively until now. 

--------- 

Recording Haruhana went well. Ranmaru expected it to, somewhat. Ai’s cold problem-solving could be annoying, but they never got in the way of the heart of his vocals. Their voices blended into an interesting harmony, and the acoustic guitar bridged their styles into a bittersweet sound they slipped into easily enough that recording sessions went uneventfully. 

“It does not surprise me, but.“ Ranmaru couldn’t bring himself to outright glower at Ai as they stopped recording and stepped away from the mics. “You’re very good at conjuring a strong, wistful image with your voice.” 

“Then why do you look surprised…” he grunted back, loosening and lowering the mic for whoever had it next. “...You do it well, too, but we already knew that.” 

“The heart of things you’re so obsessed with,” he said plainly. “It wouldn’t do if we couldn’t bring truth to the emotions we write about.” 

Ranmaru hadn’t given much thought to why Ai’s songs were so lamenting and sad, for the most part. He’d acknowledged they were genuine, had a tone color that suited him right, and made the fans happy. Truthfully, he’d only thought of those songs in the context of work -- Ai was a rival and a colleague he respected enough to sing with and not want to lose to, so he’d only looked at his songs from that standpoint, too. But Ranmaru realized better, now, just how good Ai was at sharing sadness that wasn’t so heavy it dragged people down with it. Wistfulness that grasped forward towards something, like a greater understanding. 

“How’s the ballad going?” 

Ranmaru clicked his tongue. “How’s your synthpop bubblegum bullshit going?” he shot back. 

“Well,” Ai replied, unfazed. “I have the chord progressions and kits mapped out.” 

“Good for you, then,” he grunted back. Great. So Ai was making good progress while Ranmaru hadn’t made any. 

“Are you struggling?” 

“Isn’t that the point of a ballad?!” Hopefully Ai couldn’t argue with that and would leave him alone from there.  

“Shouldn’t you defer to a composer or lyricist if you’re stuck?” 

Ranmaru glared at Ai. “If it’s a ballad, I should write it myself, not leave it to someone who’s just gonna put words and music I don’t mean into my mouth.” 

“Past data suggests you won’t back down about this,” Ai said smoothly, stacking the notes and papers they’d brought into the studio neatly. “I suppose I should wish you luck, in that case, and remind you this is my album, too, and it’s the fans who are most important.” 

“I know that,” Ranmaru spat, long done fussing with the mic. 

*************

R: you hate ballads, right  M: I sure do! :D  R: why  M: too slow for my tastes, sentimentality done like that isn’t my thing, don’t always feel genuine, you know   R: that’s literally every problem i have with the big project at work right now M: oh no you have to make a ballad?? Like….poppy enough for shining agency and all that? Oh boy.... R: what’s your advice to making a ballad you don’t hate, then  M: HMMMMMMMMMMMMM M: pass a kidney stone  M: WAIT RANDY COME BACK I’LL HELP FOR REAL  R: If you want to help why are you calling me randy?!  M: suffering is the root of all good ballads. I’m helping   R: can you at least remind me what the one ballad you like is  M: oh, turn on your light  M: judas priest M: it’s always judas priest  R: so why don’t you hate it R: other than it’s judas priest  M: oh, nothing big  M: my first gf just made me a mixtape and confessed with it is all M: and that was my entry point into western metal  M: sealing my fate forever as a queer metalhead and thereby forming the foundation of all my aesthetic, social, musical, and auditory sensibilities forevermore M: and some other stuff  R: oh is that all   “We are about to arrive at ____ station, please make your way to the doors if your stop is ____ station....” 

R: what’s the other stuff M: oh dw about it  M: it’s, you know, the stuff everyone brings to listening. the mushy baggage that lets ‘em connect with strangers. you know how it is

The train arrived right after that message went through, and he had to put his phone away over questioning her further. Recently, he’d felt more irritated with himself than usual. He knew he got this way when he felt he owed someone and hadn’t done his part to even the score. 

He was kind of in the same camp as she when it came to slow songs. Rock was about energy, passion, an urging sense of power, and even if he could understand why those slower songs were important, it didn’t mean they had to always resonate with him. He thought about their exchange. She dropped art into their chats a lot because, as she insisted, it helped having a musician look at her work, instead of another illustrator. And he liked her perspective for the same reason -- more personal than a fan, but more refreshing than everyone else at the agency. 

Really, it sounded like what made the ballad feel genuine was the context she could apply. It wasn’t just a song, but a personal gesture that singled her out from the millions of other people who’d hear the song and imagine it was for them. 

Ranmaru frowned as he exited the train station. The solution to his ballad problem was simple, so obvious he felt stupid for overlooking it. If he expected people to connect to his music, he had to give people something to connect to. All he had to do was what he always did -- just go for what his heart told him to. No frills, no fancy trimmings, just something he wanted to honestly express. 

He strung basslines in his head as he walked to his apartment. Let the music-making guide him, instead of demanding it follow rigid instructions. As he pushed the key into the lock, he caught the faint stain of his eyeliner on his sleeve. 

Don’t look at me … while I dry my eyes....

His stomach lurched a little, but moreso he felt his body surge with the truth of the song he wanted to write. The same rush of a surging venue, somehow, but with the kind of wistfulness and earnest desire he appreciated in Ai’s work more now. 

Tama had started to squeeze through the little crack in the door, investigating why Ranmaru had just stood there like an idiot for so long. 

“...c’mon, you little dope,” Ranmaru said softly, surprised how breathy he needed to keep his voice to get past the tightness in his chest. He squatted down, scooped the soft little creature up, and walked straight to his workspace. He did the once-over his apartment he’d gotten in recent habit of, seeing if anything had been seized by the collectors while he was gone, before depositing Tama on a cat tree where Mike was sitting. He hummed a melody that was quickly taking shape, his hands barely keeping up as he grabbed a scrap of paper, scrawling notes as fast as his hands would let him. 

*******************

Reiji looked up at Ranmaru in disbelief. Ranmaru scowled back. 

“If you don’t want it,” he growled, reaching for the box he’d put in front of Reiji. “I’ll fucking take it back.” 

“No! No no no, Ranran, I’m so grateful!” Reiji exclaimed, scrambling to slide it out of Ranmaru’s reach. 

“Humph! If I didn’t know of your peasant tastes,” Camus started from across the table. “I’d just tell you you’re better off skipping this slop.” 

“Oi!” Ranmaru pointed a spoon threateningly at Camus. “You don’t have to eat, asshole! You still owe me for ruining my bananas, and as far as I’m concerned this just means you owe me another meal!” 

“You think your pauper’s tongue deserves the fineries I’d select, I see,” Camus said challengingly, tilting his head and crossing his legs. Ranmaru was a hair trigger away from just throwing the box with Camus’s portion right at him. Maybe it’d ruin that stupid suit and he’d learn to shut up. 

“He-heeeey, Ranran, everything smells super good….I’m so excited to dig right in, but are those sauces I see?” Reiji interrupted. Ranmaru clenched his fist around the spoon as he turned his glower towards him.

He slammed the spoon down in front of Reiji. “Which sauce do you want, the spicy chili one or ketchup,” he managed through gritted teeth. 

“O- ohhh, wow! So gourmet! We have options!” Reiji cheered, in that singsongy way he did when he was trying to smooth over disasters. “Ranran, I knew you could cook, but I never knew you were so talented! I wonder what’s in ---” Ranmaru was losing his patience, and he grabbed the bottle of homemade chili sauce, hovering it above Reiji’s portion. The bottle sputtered as the air escaped, and Ranmaru’s grip threatened to explode the whole thing right then and there. “ -- I’ll have just a little bit of the spicy one, haha…” 

Ranmaru held his gaze a moment more before he focused back on the food, squeezing a reasonable amount onto Reiji’s portion. He opened the box with Camus’s, already dressed with a mountain of sweet chili sauce, stabbed the spoon into it, and slid it over. 

“Is this omurice?” Ai asked. Ranmaru handed him his own box.

“Is the rice in the omelet?” he grunted. “It’s just a stuffed omelet you eat with rice.” 

“Mm-mm! So good! I’ve never had spices quite like these! Is this a secret specialty dish you’ve been hoarding to yourself?” 

Ranmaru, at this point, just wanted to sit down and eat. “No,” he grumbled, hoping they’d get the picture. 

“I can’t recognize this preparation against any recipe I know of. Did you make it up yourself?” 

“It’s one from a friend, alright? She sent me a bunch of chilis and herbs and I had to make something to use them all up. If you don’t like it, then you don’t have to eat it. Stop asking questions and let me eat!” 

They ate quietly for a while, much to Ranmaru’s relief. Camus, of all people, was the one to end the silence. 

“Kurosaki,” he said, taking an odd tone for a conversation with Ranmaru. “....You will share the recipe for this sauce immediately,” he said, an odd hush to his voice. 

“And what if I don’t,” Ranmaru sneered back, feeling just a little smug. “You gonna pass out from a sugar crash and finally give me some peace?” 

Before Camus finished his reply, Ranmaru took a bottle from his bag and tossed it at Camus, who disappointingly kept his composure through the surprise. “Maybe you’ll learn to eat some meat, now that you’ve got a way to slather it in sugar.” 

The rest of Quartet Night all stopped again in surprise, the same way they did when Ranmaru said he’d made them all lunch for today. Their eyes burned on Ranmaru as he went back to his meal, and he tried very, very hard to not let it bother him. 

“...Ranran, you’ve been acting different lately. Did you--” 

“No,” he growled. “Whatever you think it is, no.” 

****************************** 

M: oh dang M: wow dude M: i really don’t know what to say 

Ranmaru stared at his phone in the dark, waiting as feedback from the other side of the world came in. 

M: you fucking nailed it. I don’t know how you did it, like a week ago this wasn’t anything. M: now it’s a whole new side of you i don’t think your discography’s shown off yet  M: the fans are gonna go apeshit 

The rest of the song came to him in the kind of exciting, passionate fervor where his hands couldn’t keep up with the ideas. The melody followed the bassline very naturally, peppered in by flashes of lyrics that slowly built and reorganized themselves. And from there, more instrumentation became evident. What he had now was just enough to make the soul of the song clear, finished late tonight in the studio. 

Already his head was filled with what more he could add, but they blended into blur of ideas he was too tired to separate. 

M: can I confess something? I mean, i don’t know why I’m asking, you’re probably already asleep  M: what you have here already made me cry a little bit  M: i don’t know what you did, but you made a ballad that works so well. It really feels personal and so full of the soul everyone loves you for, but there’s something really sad and kind in there that makes my heart squeeze.  M: and that’s even in the lyrics! (what i can understand of them, anyway haha) but you know how saccharine I find ballad lyrics most of the time!!!   M: then again, it is you. I don’t think there’s anything you could ever make that would feel disingenuous lmao  M: is it too late to ask if i can illustrate this album too....would Ai and the agency let me do that…. M: i can draw something that’s soft and rock as shit!!!!  M: anyways M: you’re probably dead asleep but just know this: good work, dude.  M: it really felt like you were saying something very heartfelt, even in this rough cut, and i think how personal that voice is is gonna make everyone feel such a feeling.  M: it sure made me feel one!

He locked his phone, tearing himself away from the slow stream of messages coming in. He laid on his back, phone facedown in the blanket, as he stared up into the dark swallowing the room back up again. Every part of his body felt like it was on fire, burning to get back into the studio. 

The lyrics weren’t complete yet. He wasn’t the poetic type, so it’s not as if he’d let himself overthink his words and lose their heart in too many revisions, but there were still blanks. The phrase that’d pull it all together, the words that summarized the message of the song, they still weren’t there, but he could feel himself getting closer. 

It was about paying an unspoken debt, and it was about shame, but above all, it was about pride. In himself, for letting himself reach this point, and in someone else. That was the sort of connection he could sing himself to tears with, whether on the stage, the studio, or the clean, edited album, and for that, he was proud. 

[sweetiepie08]

Rebelz Chapter 5

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn, @agentpinerulesall​

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list feel free to message me. Also, if you’re on the tag list and you changed your name, please just let me know.

(thought I posted this a month ago, but either I forgot or it got eaten by the tumblr void.)

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8.  Chapter 9. Chapter 10.

[-]

Jerry had just smashed Tom’s foot with a hammer when Dib realized he was watching the robot’s cartoons more than he was watching the house. He’d been staring at these screens all day. Tak hadn't shown up at all. Zim did turn up for a few minutes, but that was hours ago and he hadn't come back since. There were no fights, no screams, no explosions, or at least not that Dib could see. The only noteworthy thing that happened was Zim choking on a soda. Was there really nothing going on?

His eyes drifted to the clock. 6:30 already? He'd just wasted most of his day watching old cartoons through a security feed. His stomach rumbled reminding him he hadn't eaten since noon.

Dib looked back at his monitors. Tom chased Jerry around the room. Jerry ducked into his mousehole and Tom rammed his face into the wall. The robot laughed. Dib’s stomach rumbled again. The idea of a break started to sound appealing.

“Hey Gaz,” he called hitting the record button, “You hungry?”

“Yeah,” she called back.

“You want to order a pizza?” He slid off his chair and started out of the room. “I was thinking we could have dinner while we watched that documentary.”

He headed downstairs and found Gaz in the kitchen. She already had the phone in one hand in the Pizza Factory menu in the other. “I'm thinking Peppers and onions,” she said, not dialing the phone.

“How about sausage?

Her face twisted in disgust. “No pork.”

“Okay, fair enough,” he conceded. That shadow hog thing still weighed on his conscience. “Cheddar cheese? Oh, and get garlic bread.”

Gaz nodded and put the phone to her ear.

Dib smiled. It actually felt good to be out of that room. This break would be good for him. He’d get some food in his stomach and watch something he’d been waiting to see. Then he could get back to surveying the base later. Besides, with the camera recording, he wouldn’t miss a thing, if anything even happened.  After all, he got nothing all day. What could he miss in a few hours?

[-]

Gir laughed every time the cat on TV let out that loud yelp. He liked the yelling. It reminded him of someone. And it was funny.

As he laughed, another robot walked into the room. Gir looked over. A new friend? Maybe. Did master build it? Nah, he would have said something. Wait, he remembered this thing. This was Tak’s robot. What was it doing here? Oh yeah, they friends now. She gave him a present. They must be over to play.

“Want some nachos?” Gir asked.

Tak’s robot lifted its head and looked curiously at the nachos. What was wrong? Maybe it didn't know what nachos were for.

“You do it like this,” he said stuffing a handful in his mouth.

Tak’s robot just stood there. It still didn't get it. “Here, let me help.” Gir got off the couch, walked over to the other robot, and smushed a handful of nachos in its face.

Tak’s robot wiped the nachos away and shook off the remaining cheese. It’s eyes narrowed and glowed red. Oh it looked mad. Maybe it would start yelling at him. But it didn’t.

Oh wait! He got it now! “Hey, you don't gots no mouth,” Gir said, leaning real close to get a good look at the robot’s face. “That's not right. You need a mouth for nachos.”

This was a problem. If it was going to be his friend, it needed a mouth for snacks. “Oh, I know!” Gir screamed. He ran for the trash can/elevator. He'd seen master go down this way earlier. Master could build a mouth. “This way! This way!” He dove head first down the elevator shaft and Tak’s robot followed him.

[-]

“No, it's not!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it's not!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it's not!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it's not! It's not!” Tak shouted. The can in her hand spilled gignzor on the ground as she gestured wildly. “You cannot tell me! You cannot tell me Foodcourtia is worse than Dirt!”

“It is! It definitely is!” Zim yelled back, punctuating each sentence by slapping the computer control panel.

“It's definitely not!” She slapped the control panel as well. “Dirt is a garbage planet made out of garbage! Everywhere you go, it's garbage! Everywhere you look, it's garbage! You close your eyes and, still, all you can see is garbage!”

“But there's no customers! Zim countered, flinging his empty can across the room. “No one screaming at you all day! No one yelling because their order is late, or cold, or they got the wrong thing! No one saying they want blogrings on the side, but they won't tell you on the side of what. But when you guess, they start yelling! And you're trying every side you can think of, but nothing works! And sometimes they still haunt your thoughts late at night!” He grabbed Tak’s shoulders and shook her. “What side did he want, Tak? What side did he want?!” He kept shaking until she slapped him away.

The sound of a “Whee-hoo” came from the ceiling. It got progressively louder until Gir splat-landed face-first on the floor. Tak’s Sir unit slinked gracefully down and landed beside him.

Gir sprang to his feet. “My friend needs a nacho hole,” he said pointing at the other robot.

“MiMi,” Tak commanded, “Get away from that pile of junk.” The SIR unit nodded and slink to her side.

“Hey!” Zim pointed an accusing finger at her. “You don't get to call my Gir junk!”

“Yeah!” Gir screamed.

Tak smirked. “I built Mimi myself out of spare parts and she’s still more advanced than the standard SIR units issued to the invaders.”

“Well I got a mouth!” Gir shot back.

“Yeah!” Zim shouted. “Hey wait, does your SIR unit talk?”

“No,” Tak sighed. “I couldn't find a functioning vocal chip on Dirt.”

Suddenly, Zim’s computer made an alert sound. “Sir,” computer said, “there is an incoming transmission from the Massive.”

Zim's hands flew to his head. “Oh no, the Tallest can't see me drunk.”

“The Tallest can't see me at all,” Tak added.

“Well, get out of frame, then.”

Tak scooped up Mimi and they ducked under the control panel. Zim tried shaking a bit of his drunkenness off. It didn’t seem to do much, but he answered the call anyway. An Irken in a navigator’s uniform appeared on the screen.

“Um, Invader Zim?” the navigator said, putting a strange emphasis on Zim’s title.

“Yeah,” Heh, he said ‘invader’ funny… Wait a second. “Hey, you're not The Tallest. What is this?”

“The Tallest are very busy at the moment,” the navigator replied. “A traitor has been identified.”

“Traitor? Pfft…” Zim waved his hand. “I don't know anything about a traitor, definitely not one with any conspiracies.” I am nailing this nonchalant performance.

“Uh, you wouldn't.” The navigator said, raising an eyelid. “A notice went out to all Irkens on planet or in the Armada. I've been tasked with informing all those out-of-range to be on the lookout for her.” He paused. “What was that about a conspiracy?”

“Nothing. I said I didn't know anything about a conspiracy, remember?” Totally nailing it.

“Yeah, but why would you bring it up in the first place?”

Shoot. He was asking too many questions. Better get rid of him. “Yes, yes. Anyway, I got your message,” Zim dismissed, reaching to cut off the transmission. “I'll be sure to look out for Tak. Now you can move on to-”

“Wait, I never said the traitor's name.”

His hand froze. Fuck “Uh, yes you did.”

“No, I didn't.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No. I didn't.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn't!” The navigator shouted impatiently. “And I can playback this conversation to prove it.”

Zim started to sweat as he contemplated his next move. Before he could say anything, however, Gir dove under the control panel.

“Found you!” Gir squealed.

“What was that?” The navigator asked.

“My SIR unit,” Zim answered. “He lost his… uh… contact lenses!”

“SIR units don't wear contact lenses.”

“Your turn to hide.” Gir said. Zim could hear a scuffle going on.

“No, stop.” Tak whisper-shouted. “Stop pushing me, you metallic hunk of-” Tak flew out from under the control panel and landed on the floor with an “omf.”

No, no, no, no, no! Zim slapped a big fake grin on his face. “As I was saying, I'll be on the lookout for that traitor and I’ll get back to you if I see her. Bye!” Zim cut the transmission and the screen went black. He let out a long breath. “I don't think they suspect a thing.”

Tak got up and brushed herself off. She glared daggers at him and snarled, a retort forming on her lips. Before she could speak, the entire base shook violently, knocking them off their feet.

“What's happening?” Zim struggled to stand up, but another shake sent him back to the floor. The base continued to rumble and, with each new quake, the room shrank in size, along with the tech in it.

“You idiot!” Tak shouted, managing to pull herself up. “It's cubification!”

Zim blinked. “Uhh…”

She scowled and rolled her eyes.” When The Tallest believe an invasion has been compromised beyond salvation, the remotely cubify the base, destroying all evidence and crushing any organic matter left inside.”

“I knew that.” Zim jumped to his feet. “Why are you explaining things I already know?”

“You moron, were going to be squashed!” Tak screamed, grabbing the front of his tunic. “And I refuse to let my cells mix with yours!” She threw him down and called, “Mimi!”

Tak’s loyal SIR unit slid up to her side. Mimi saluted, wrapped her arms around Tak, and flew them both up the elevator shaft.

“Gir!” Zim commanded. “Get us out of here!”

Gir bounced up. His eyes flashed red as he gave a salute. He then ignited the propulsion jets in his feet, flung Zim onto his back, and rocketed them up the elevator shaft.

As they flew to the house level, the walls around them closed in at a steadily rapid rate. It became a tight squeeze toward the top. Zim’s waist became stuck in the trash can lid for a moment before he managed to wiggle out.

By the time he made it to the living room, the ceiling was only a few feet overhead. Tak pulled at the doorknob with all her weight, but it wouldn't budge. She let out a cry of frustration and her laser cutters unfurled from her PAK. The lasers on all four tips joined into one large square of energy which blasted a hole in the wall. However, that hole shrunk just as quickly as the rest of the house.

Tak dove through and MiMi followed. Zim looked around for his service unit who was busy giggling and bouncing off of the encroaching walls. “Gir, quickly!” he commanded, pointing to the hole. Gir launched himself through, squealing. Zim followed after, feeling the ceiling brush the tip of his antenna on his way out.

He landed on his hands and knees on the lawn. Once he gathered himself, he turned to watch as his beautiful base crushed itself into a cube about the size of an Urth child’s alphabet block.

Zim’s mouth hung open. “Six years on this miserable ball of filth,” he murmured, scooting up to the teal cube on his knees. “Now look at you.” He flopped face-first on the yard and made pitiful noises. Gir sat down next to him and patted him on the back.

“Get over it, Zim,” Tak grumbled, activating her human disguise. “At least you still have a ship. Mine’s crushed in there with everything else.”

“Everything?” Zim snapped up. “Wait, where’s Minimoose?”

“NYAH,” Minimoose squeaked as he floated into Zim’s line of vision.”

Zim jumped up and threw his arms around his creation. “Yeah! Minimoose! I knew I shouldn't have to worry about you.”

“Quit hugging the moose, Zim,” Tak snapped. “In case you haven't noticed, we have a real problem here. We're stuck on this dirtball with no shelter, no resources, nowhere to go, and we're out of gingzor.”

“Yeah, well, whose fault is that?” Zim retorted, stomping up to his ship. He reached in, pulled out a spare dog suit, and flung it out Gir. He then began applying his human disguise and he continued. “My base would be fine right now if they didn't catch you hiding out in there.”

“Well they wouldn't have caught me if you could control your sorry excuse for a SIR unit,” Tak shot back.

“Hey!” Zim jumped down from his ship. “Gir is a specialized unit! Operating him takes a deft hand. Simply shouting out commands won't do.”

“why? because then he'd work properly?” Tak smirked.

Zim let out an exaggerated gasp. “How dare?! I just lied my butt off for you and you repay me by insulting my Gir?”

“Oh yes,” she scoffed, “thank you so much for blurting out my name before they even told you who the traitor was. You are a true master of deception.”

Zim put on a smug, mocking grin. “You're welcome.”

Tak growled and kicked nearby rock into the street. After letting out an huff, she turned back to him. “Well, you've been on this planet longer than any other advanced species. Where is a good place to lay low?”

Zim thought about this as he picked up the teal cube and turned it around in his hands. His base wasn't completely destroyed. Everything shrunk as it was being cubified. Perhaps it was all still in there. If he could reverse the effect… “It'll have to be a place with access to a lab. With the proper tools, I could possibly find a way to get my base up and running again.”

“Oh! I know! I know!” Gir squealed, jumping on Zim’s back.

“No, Gir. We're not doing that.”

“But… but…”

“No, Gir,” Zim said again, crossing his arms. “I won't allow my pride to sink that low.”

“But we've done it before,” Gir pointed out.

“Hmm? What's he talking about?” Tak asked sternly.

“Doesn't matter.” Zim answered, waving a dismissive hand at her. “It's not an option.”

“Yes it is,” Gir argued.

“Zim…” Tak growled, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him up to her eye level. “Where is it?”

[-]

Gaz flipped open the pizza box and steam rose off the hot, fresh cheese. Dib reached into the takeout bag. The garlic bread was still hot, too. He bit into a slice, enjoying the warm, steamy goodness and hoping the documentary wouldn't bring up any cow disembowelment's while he was eating.

This was shaping up to be a pretty good evening. Good documentary, good food, and he and his sister were just chilling together. There were no fights, no aliens (except the ones in the documentary, of course), no plans for world domination, no nothing. Just pizza, sibling bonding, and the dulcet tones of the narrator explaining bizarre happenings in Utah.

Gaz was right. He needed to take breaks more often. In fact, he was pretty content to spend the rest of the night relaxing. He could do without dealing with Irken nonsense for one night.

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun/Taemin; Flashbabe; PG

happy Pride fellow gays here’s superhero Jonghyun going to Pride. He has light super powers it’s like Flashbang except he’s a babe

hey I wrote this last year and put it in the queue in like December so I definitely apologize that he's not 7000% more anti-pig lmao

One shirt is covered with diagonal rainbow stripes, including the black and brown stripes, and says, in big, bold letters, “Pride was and is a riot.” The other one is pink and just says simply, “fuck cops” in all black caps.

“The back of this one says cops don't belong at Pride, too,” Jonghyun says brightly, turning it to demonstrate.

“Hey boo—which one?”

Taemin looks up from his laptop, at Jonghyun walking in from the bedroom holding up two shirts. Taemin assumes that he's going to put them on over his superhero outfit, because otherwise he probably wouldn't already be wearing the stylish black and white and aqua accented suit. He never wears it at home unless he's planning to go out in it. His mask and shades are both tucked into the collar of his suit’s long sleeve shirt as well, which further leads to that conclusion. Taemin raises his eyebrows.

“You're going in the suit?” he asks. This whole time when Jonghyun was talking about going to Pride, Taemin thought he meant like, as a normal average mild-mannered citizen. Not as Flashbabe. Jonghyun nods, though, wiggling his booty in his comfy super suit skinny’s and flexing one arm to show off his beefy bicep.

“Yeah,” he says. “all of my little queers out there need to know that I'm fighting for them specifically.” he winks at the end of that sentence and Taemin rolls his eyes. That's true, he guesses, and also cute. Jonghyun holds up the shirts again, wiggling them insistently. “Which one?” he asks again.

This time Taemin actually looks them over. One is covered with diagonal rainbow stripes, including the black and brown stripes, and says, in big, bold letters, “Pride was and is a riot.” The other one is pink and just says simply, “fuck cops” in all black caps.

“The back of this one says cops don't belong at Pride, too,” Jonghyun says brightly, turning it to demonstrate. Taemin nods in approval. Both are good, but. Hmm.

“You're going to be on the news when you go,” he says slowly. “They'll censor that fuck in the pictures.” He knows that they will. They'll probably even censor the whole shirt. Jonghyun frowns, looking at the shirt with disappointment.

“You're right,” he says sadly. He tosses in the shirt over the back of the couch, and then puts the other shirt on right there. “I can just say fuck cops out loud when I get there anyway,” he says, voice muffled as he struggles to get his head through it. When he pops his head out of the collar, his wide grin is lopsided and dazzling. “They can beep me out but everyone will still know what I said.” he says.

“Hell yeah,” Taemin grins. Jonghyun throws him a finger pistol as he fishes his mask and sunglasses out from his collar.

“Sure you don't want to come, boo?” he asks. His voice is a little hopeful but not so much that Taemin feels guilty for shaking his head. It's too loud and crowded and hot out there and he knows his feet will hurt after like twenty minutes. And Jonghyun knows this, because he nods back with an accepting little shrug.

“I was going to watch the livestream when BoA starts performing, though,” Taemin says, tapping the screen of his laptop. No fucking way would he miss that. Jonghyun nods again, looking at his mask as he fumbles with it and tries to figure out which way is the right way to put it on.

“When is that, like an hour?” he asks, pulling the mask over his head so it covers his hair down to his nose, still showing off his mouth and perfectly framing his lovely jaw. Even though his mask has custom sunglass lenses built into it, he also pulls out a neon aqua pair of regular sunglasses and crams those onto his face as well. When Taemin makes an affirming little noise he makes a clicky noise with his mouth and ticks up an okay symbol with both hands.

“I gotta go hit up Kibs soon, then,” he says, “so I can bug him to draw me pan stripes and gender-fluid stripes on my cheeks before she starts so I can get there on time. Fuck, and Minho has my glittery high heel boots also, they were going on about tinkering with their armor to make them like bouncier or something?” Taemin can't see his eyes roll, but he rolls his whole head so Taemin knows that he did it. “You know how it takes them forever to do anything,” he mutters. Taemin giggles. He does. Or, well, he knows that Jonghyun thinks that Minho takes forever. He also knows that Jonghyun has approximately three seconds of patience before he starts getting annoyed.

“Are you leaving now then?” he asks. He looks like he's ready. Jonghyun hums, fixes his shirt around his waist, rocks back on his heels and then forward onto his toes.

“One more thing I gotta do,” he smiles. He flounces to the couch that Taemin is laying on, bends over the back of it, leans close, and presses a gross, slobbery, wet smooch to his forehead. “Love you, boo,” he chirps. Taemin makes his most disgruntled noise and turns to wipe his head on the couch cushion. He also reaches up to hold Jonghyun’s hand for a few seconds fondly.

“Have fun, lovey,” he says, tacking on the nickname just to watch Jonghyun’s cheeks literally glow pink. He sees it for just a few seconds before Jonghyun hides his face in his hands and stands up, but it's enough.

“Oh my gosh,” Jonghyun whispers. “Bye boo. I'll see you later.” And with that, he disassembles into a sparky ball of light, zapping into the lamp next to the couch, and then to the night light by the front door, and then outside into the closest street light, which Taemin assumes he's going to follow all the way up to Kibum’s apartment. He is incredibly certain that by the time he zaps himself unannounced into Key’s living room he'll be glowing pink all over.

The next time Taemin sees Jonghyun, it's when Flashbabe appears at Pride by zapping himself on top of a street lamp right over the stage float. He sits there, extremely visible in the livestream camera, faintly glowing through a cycle of soft rainbow colors and waving around at the crowd. He ignores all of the news reporters that catch wind of him and try to grab him for an interview, but when BoA, mid performance set, notices him and calls him to the stage, he zaps himself directly into one of the stage lights and drops down easily.

BoA hands him the mic and he gives a nice little speech about Pride and his identity and how he'll always do his best to protect his favorite little queers and wraps It up by zapping to sit on top of the stage float, pointing over at a group of cops on the sidelines, and saying, “Fuck y'all.”

Then he drops the mic down to BoA and teleports away, zipping from street lamp to street lamp, from float to float, to some of the marchers’ glow up accessories and outfits. Taemin just watches the concert . He doesn't have the energy to check all the news and the social media sites and whatever to keep himself updated on where exactly Jonghyun is right at every moment. He knows that his babe is out there having fun and supporting himself and protecting people. And he knows that Jonghyun will be back later to flop on top of him and give him just as much love and attention as he does everyone else.

[niall-is-my-dream]

Lost Without You - Part Ten

So this is the last part! Thanks to everyone who has read, liked and reblogged this. I appreciate it!

2460 words

But thanks to @beardedniall​​ for helping me.

Catch up below

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/186235732118/lost-without-you-masterlist

6 weeks later

Walking into your flat a week before Christmas felt strange. You dragged your two suitcases one by one up the stairs, and dumped them in the hallway. Removing your coat you realised how warm the flat felt, making your way to the kitchen you saw a note above the thermostat.

 "Put the heat and the hot water on for you, hope it was ok that I used the spare key. Put some bits in the fridge and cupboards for you too. Pop in for a coffee and a catch up when you're free. Audrey. X"

Oh love her. Audrey was too good to you. You felt an overwhelming urge to see Audrey and embrace her and her familiar smell. Remembering how it gave you a feeling of home. 

You weren't going back to your parents for another week so you had planned on last minute Christmas shopping and spending some time with Audrey, Jess and Hannah. There would be plenty of time to see your parents, your brother his wife and your nieces. Niall wouldn't be back until the 23rd which was still five days away.

When you opened the fridge you found butter, cheese, milk and some ready meals. The cupboard had bread, crumpets, some crisps and some snacks. You also found your fruit bowl full. You couldn't believe the trouble she had gone through for you. It also meant you could have a shower straight away rather than waiting for the water to heat up. Which is exactly what you needed.

Opening one of your suitcases you found some pjs and your toiletries. Stripping off your clothes you stepped in the hot shower washing away your day of packing and travelling. You dressed in your pjs and one of Niall's hoodies before heading to the kitchen and popping a meal in the microwave. 

With the meal on your lap and the tv talking to no one, you browsed through your social media whilst you ate. A FaceTime call from Niall interrupted your meal, and you smiled. Swiping to answer it, you saw his face come onto the screen.

"Hey beautiful." He said smiling. He was sitting on a navy blue sofa with a plain white wall behind him. You knew he was in Chicago for one of the Jingle Ball shows, so you assumed he was in a hotel room or dressing room.

 "Hey yourself." You replied, smiling at his cute christmassy jumper.

 "How was your trip back?" He asked.

 "It was ok, quick and easy flight. Not long been home, I've just showered and got ready for bed."

 "Glad to be home love?"

 "Yeah I am, feels weird actually!"

 "Nice hoodie by the way. Been looking for that for weeks!" He replied with a smirk.

 "I may have nicked it from you when you visited me." You grinned back. "It still smells like you a bit."

 "Won't be long now petal, five more days. I'll do the last show in Miami and then I'll fly home straight away after. So I'll see you on Monday 23rd sometime. Not sure what time my flight lands yet."

 "Ok the plan is still for me to go to my parents on Christmas Eve sometime, I can pick my hire car up anytime from 12. Is your flight to Ireland still around that time?"

 "Yeah, 1:40 something I think. I don't know I'm rubbish."

 "It's why you have Tara!"

 "True." He laughed in reply. 

 You heard a knock and a click of a door and saw Niall look up and across the room. The room he was in suddenly became noisy and a familiar voice could be heard amongst the crowd.

"You still talking to your lovely wee lass?!" You heard Lewis ask.

"I am." Niall replied with a smirk.

Lewis popped himself down on the sofa and his face crept into view. You felt yourself blush and prayed you wouldn't fan girl over him again. It had been bad enough when you'd done it six months ago on your first date with Niall.

"There she is!" Lewis said. "This Irish heartthrob has been talking about you all day, said he needed to come talk to you make sure you got home ok."

 "Did he now?!" You laughed.

 "Yep! Been going on and on about you!"

 "Hey give it a rest!" Niall said and you could see him blushing.

 "Oh look, he's blushing now. Been saying how much he loves you and how he can't wait to come home to you so he can make sweet love to you all Christmas!"

"Mate! What the fuck?!" Niall shaking his head. "He's drunk. Just ignore him!"

"Don't deny it now Niall, no need to get embarrassed! And I'm not drunk!" Lewis grinned.

"Fuck off!" Niall smiled back.

"How was your trip back anyway Emma?" Lewis asked.

"It was ok thankyou."

"Good, alright I'll let you love birds have your phone sex and I'll catch you in what three minutes?! You won't last longer than that!"

You giggled as you saw Niall's face turn red.

"Right you, out now!" Niall replied and you saw him point towards what you presumed to be the door.

 "Bye Emma!"

 "Bye Lewis!" You replied still giggling.

You heard the door close and Niall resume his original position in front of you.

 "Sorry about him." He said, his face still red.

"Have you got time for phone sex?" You asked him.

His eyes widened in shock and you could see him trying to decide how to answer the question. It was something that you had explored a few times whilst you had been apart. But it has always been when you were just going to sleep and Niall was in a hotel room. He was in a dressing room waiting to perform that evening, anyone could walk in.

"I have to go for sound check in like ten minutes. But fuck I would if I could." He managed to mumble out.

"Ah that's a shame." You smirked. "Could still show you the good stuff if you like?"

"Yeah?" He stuttered.

"Mmmm." You replied as you pulled his hoodie over your head, revealing just a plain light pink vest top underneath. 

You heard him breath out a huge sigh at the sight of your breasts, just visible beneath your thin top.

"More?" You asked him, as you saw him reach down and adjust himself beneath his jeans.

"Yes." He croaked out before clearing his throat and repeating himself.

Pulling the top over your head you heard him moan out and mumble something about how you were driving him crazy. When you reached across and tweaked your nipple, he moaned again and rubbed his free hand across his face, down his chest and to his jeans. His hand palmed himself over his bulge and he blew out a sigh of relief.

A knock on the door on his end brought him back to reality and he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees to try and disguise his erection. No one entered the room however but someone did call out a ten minute call for his sound check.

"Yeah be there in five." He called out.  

You saw him shake his head.

"I have to go." He sighed. "But I need to go and sort out this first."

And he turned the camera down to show you his big problem.

"Go to the bathroom and let me watch." You asked him.

"Yeah? You'd like that?" He replied, his eyebrows raised.

"Mmmmm." You simply answered with as you stroked your nipples again. He groaned, but quickly stood up and made his way to the ensuite bathroom, locking the door behind him. 

With his phone propped up by the sink, he quickly opened his button and unzipped his jeans. The sight of his thick cock as he pulled himself from his jeans made your core throb.

"Oh baby look how worked up you are." You whispered as you slipped your hand beneath your shorts.

"All for you, see what you do to me?" He replied panting, as he ran his thumb over his bright red tip moving the precum down his length.

"I barely did anything."

"I've not made love to you in six weeks babe, I'm going to cum in like two minutes I'm so worked up by the sight of your tits."

 "Yeah, two minutes? Is that a challenge?"

"Definitely, and you better be touching yourself to." He whispered back.

"I am." You replied and you saw him bite his lip to hold back a moan.

Neither of you spoke again in case someone happened to enter Nialls dressing room. There were low breaths and pants from you both as you desperately seeked your release. Your fingers were running over your clit, while you teased your nipples with the other hand. Keeping eye contact with Niall was hard, your eyes were practically rolling in the back of your head as you got closer. The tightness in your stomach built more and more as you watched him stroke his hard cock with his left hand and tug on his balls with his right.

His movements became sloppy and you knew he was close, the thought of it pushed you to your orgasm and you mewled as you came, your body almost convulsing at the strength of your release.

Low pants of your name from Niall's lips told you he was coming to, and you saw him release his grip on his balls to try and catch the heavy stream of his orgasm.

"Jesus christ." He mumbled as he surveyed the mess in his hands.

"That was about two minutes. Challenge won." You said with a smirk.

********

The Cosy Coffee Corner was quiet today, the early Monday morning rush of commuters and dog walkers had been and gone. Mr and Mrs Davidson had sat at their usual spot by the window reading the newspaper like they always did at least 3 or 4 mornings a week. You'd come down early to offer help to Audrey with the customers, having been awake since dawn. You hadn't been able to get back to sleep after waking up at 5am, your mind filled with thoughts of Niall and his arrival back from Miami today.

You weren't sure how long the flight was or what time you would see him today. It all depended on how he slept on the flight and if he was jetlagged. The sheer desperation to see him was ridiculous.

Your internship at the London office of Foundation Interior Designs didn't start until the new year, and you weren't due to go to your parents until tomorrow. Feeling at a bit of a loss you'd served the familiar customers alongside Audrey and sipped your morning coffee. No one made coffee like Audrey.

It felt great to be back in the safety and comfort of The Cosy Coffee Corner though and Audrey had been excited to see you. When you'd left, it had been the end of the summer, but now the cafe was covered in Christmas decorations. The handmade garland was hanging across the counter by the till. A large Christmas tree took over the corner by the window. The whole place smelled of the usual freshly made pastries and coffee but now with a hint of Winter smells of cinnamon, nutmeg and gingerbread.

 "What time is he due back?" Audrey asked you as she cleared the table next to the counter.

"Not sure. Do you mind if I hang around here for a bit longer?"

 "Of course not love."

The bell above the door jingled and you looked up to see a woman carrying a familiar looking bouquet of flowers.

"Hi, I have a delivery for Emma Pearce." She said.

"That's me, thanks." You replied taking the bouquet. Right on time you thought. Niall had never missed your weekly delivery of flowers since you'd been apart.

Taking the small card in your hand, your saw a printed message.

"To my beautiful girl, can't wait to see you today. Love you. N xxx"

"Wish I could find someone to send me flowers ever week." Audrey said as she came to stand beside you. "These are beautiful."

"I can set you up on one of those dating sites if you like?!"

"Oh god no child, can you imagine the weirdos I'd meet?!"

"Not everyone on them is a weirdo!" You replied sniggering.

"Of course not, but I'm bound to be matched with one. Would be just my luck." She said.

"Didn't know you were looking at dating again Audrey?"

It had been quite a few years since Audrey had lost her husband and you hadn't realised she was thinking about meeting new people.

"Well I'm not really, but it would be nice to go out for dinner and have some male company sometimes. And not like that before you raise your eyebrows at me girl!" She laughed.

"I never said anything!"

 "Go grab a book and take a seat, I'll bring you over some lunch." She said, slowly shifting you out from behind the counter.

"You don't need to do that."

"Yes I do, I haven't been able to mother you for months!" She replied smiling. 

"I've missed that actually." You replIed smiling back.

Placing your flowers on one of the tables by the Christmas tree in the window, you browsed the books selecting one that's cover looked intriguing. Sitting down you started to read, Audrey soon brought you over a sandwich, a gingerbread man and another coffee.

You soon got lost in the book, you'd been reading quite a bit while you'd been away in Paris. It had helped the evenings go quickly when you were on your own. The cafe started to pick up with the lunch time rush, people popping in for sandwiches and coffees from local businesses near by, the bell above the door jingling every so often.

You didn't notice when someone stood in front of you but your head soon looked up when that someone cleared their throat.

Your mouth opened in shock at the sight of Niall standing in front of you. He had on a thick black coat and a grey paddy cap, all wrapped up and cosy from the December weather.

"Is this seat taken?" He asked gesturing towards the seat opposite you.

"Definitely not." You managed to reply, still shocked at seeing him front of you.

You hadn't expected to see him in here, thinking he would probably text you and say he was coming over to your flat or something. He moved closer to you, leaning down so you were face to face, just inches from each other.

"Good." He said as he leaned in and kissed you.

Tag list

@awomanindeniall​

@horanscran​

@flnialler​

@winchesterwife27​

@ihearthemcallingforyou​

@niallismymuse​

@someoneunimportantxx​​

[themostexpensiveboningknife]

In A Superficial World Should We Be Dean Blunt?

It seems easy as a musician, plus visual artist in Dean Blunt’s case, to fall prey to the charms of success, to dilute artistic vision in pursuit of, of what? More fame and money, probably, both are pretty addictive after all. To make music that is both technically and conceptually forward thinking (don’t ask me what “forward thinking” really means), while also being incisive and revelatory of dominant social trends, now that’s rarely done, and to find unique sonic palettes across various disparate aliases and to remain, not aloof, but distant from the intrusive confusion and folly of clout chasing aspects of the worlds of contemporary music and art, these make Dean Blunt or Babyfather or DJ Escrow or Blue Iverson or Hype Williams a creator worthy of esteem. At least, they might do. 

“I couldn’t tell who was real and who wasn’t. When it came down to it I realised the only person I could depend on 100% in beef, was me.” Pagans (feat. Arca)

Babyfather, a Romantic poet whose sensitive and vulnerable ruminations on UK street life best reveal themselves on the mixtape UK2UK. Ostensibly hosted by DJ Escrow, another DB creative moniker—DB’s ability to be able to morph into aliases at will and to transmit the individual sensibilities and musical qualities of each reminds me of Madlib (Quasimoto, DJ Rels, Yesterday’s New Quintet, et al.)—we get flecks of grime, trap, ambient, acoustic interludes, vocal skits, and straight white noise. These are funny times, vulnerable and sad, insular and introverted, the streets of London are dark, they’re real, and a cloak of bravado is a must, but behind it all, always, are human emotions. DB pulls back the peeling plaster to show the perpetually healing wounds; whether you think DJ Escrow is an endearing figure, deep and poetic, or spouting not much at all, the human shines through, and it does in a way that is rarely allowed to within Black British street music. DB’s experiments across the sonic allow for a probing of the psyche of the real London streets, its protagonists, rules, customs and traditions. 

Enigmatic. It’s a quality we should value in music. When so much is on show and everything needs to be seen and understood, remaining under it all deserves plaudits. It seems to espouse a sense of authenticity, let the art do the talking, trust in the sound. DB sending up a body double imposter to collect an award at the NME awards for most promising newcomer, “I’ve finally made it!” shouted out on arrival to the stage, is almost perfect. NME, the white-focused black-shunning music mag, gives awards to artists it can’t even pick out of a crowd. DB’s intervention strikes as the best kind of performance art, the kind that says much more than the bodily act alone. 

DB’s no stranger to contemporary art (a nebulous term, he’d probably disown). His is a practice so tongue in cheek as to form an ulcer. A biting assessment of everything and nothing. Writing about an artist like this is quite long because you can’t help but feel that this is exactly the kind of faux analysis that he situates himself against. But anyway, there was the show that consisted of a single stock photo and a single high pitch ringing. Come and stand around, have a drink, if looking at art is about changing something inside of you, then it was a success. I remember seeing a DB exhibition photo with a fridge full of the drink KA; so much for the holy trinity it’s all built on: white walls, white people, white wine. It would be great to dismantle all three but let’s start at the bottom of the pyramid—anyway, that an exhibition opening needs copious alcohol is a truism—and maybe the rest will begin to falter. 

"Girl come with me, I will proceed to lay you down” Caught Feelings

When we do get DB its raw. Or is it? Fading, foggy instrumentals barely punctuated by DB’s mellow, out of tune, piss-taking crooning. But it does do something, inside, I mean. Well there’s undoubtedly an atmosphere, it could even be sadness, genuine emotion, but then the lyrics to these not quite sensical ballads suggest otherwise. The Narcissist then, is the music itself, not the singers or composers, but the actual music. DB can’t even do real personal emotions without getting an ulcer again. 

It’s an art in itself you know, choosing the right collaborators. Putting aside the infamous and delicious and profligate Hype Williams drama (how to say it in one sentence: the many purported iterations/passing on of the baton could have once been DB or might always have been), these are some fucking nice collabs man: Inga Copeland, Mica Levi, I just discovered the James Ferraro link up while writing this shit, Delroy Edwards—it’s all some crème de la crème stuff. I guess it’s real recognise real? 

“Nredup 82 10 months ago:

sampled from? just wonder about orginal sounds of guitar.

repliesvaguelyhuman 10 months ago:

wtf you mean sampled, dean blunt plays guitar like a mfer.” (Somalia Park, (Youtube Comment)

Someone’s recognising anyway; this is a term that might be thrown around a bit too much, but this is all Cult Status stuff. A cult following, obsessively passionate fans, like myself. “Only bored people with loads of money buy my music.” Wah Wah Wah, make me cry, is that me? For much of the reasons that I’ve vaguely scratched the surface of, and what were they again? Musical quality, innovation, enigmatic, art world connect, collaborations, plus more besides. 

He does radio, he does some promotion, DB is not in some vacuum of nothingness, I even saw him on a panel talk once. Which leads me to the question: What does he want out of all of this? Sometimes being enigmatic, coy and withholding, can strike as one big act, playing for the cameras, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t got that feeling from DB once or twice. But the point of it all? Well it seems to lie within nothing really. The whole package, everything that forms DB, from music, to (no)-shows at award ceremonies, to his art, to his kind of Fluxus-esque persona where you’re never sure where reality starts or ends, to expect it all to lead towards some greater singular meaning is to fall for the fallacy that DB relentlessly mocks. Nihilistic crap. Remember that famous Modernist calling, art for art’s sake? It’s pompous and barely anyone ever does it, even though many try, but I’d like to say DB is a reasonably good candidate for this mantle. No wonder its always so depressing.

Anyway, all I’ve been trying to say is I like his style, a true smooth musical operator. 

[omniversalobservations]

How the MUGEN community built the ultimate fighting game crossover

The question, "Who would win in a fight?" is the root of many fierce debates throughout the history of pop culture. The notion of pitting characters from different properties and different media against one another is exciting to discuss. And when it comes to letting fans live out these arguments, there are few better outlets than fighting games.

Even within a genre known for character-merging crossovers, there's one two-decade-old game that reigns supreme when it comes to pitting a wide variety of characters against one another. That program is MUGEN, derived from the Japanese word for "infinite," which is an appropriate name for a program that provides near limitless potential for players to create new fighting games and characters.

MUGEN began life just before the turn of the century as a PC-based side-scrolling shoot-'em-up title, created by a small company called Elecbyte. The team was originally experimenting with creating an engine to handle the rigors of so-called shmup games but found that it just wasn't living up to what they had hoped to create. Taking inspiration from a PC Korean Street Fighter 2 hack known as SFIBM, Elecbyte decided to change course from a shooter to a 2D fighting game engine.

The first public MS-DOS beta release of MUGEN came on July 27, 1999. This early release differed from most fighting games, though, by offering only one "official" character, Kung Fu Man, and a single stage. Everything else, from additional characters to even title-screen art, would have to be supplied by the users themselves, most often through files shared via Internet communities. For the first time, fans of fighting games weren't just allowed but expected to create their own fighters and matchups.

Though you don't need programming knowledge to create a MUGEN character, the process can still be time-intensive, especially if you're creating your custom art. Over the years, fighter-creation software like 2005's Fighter Factory has popped up to help facilitate this process. These third-party programs allow creators to import either their own hand-drawn sprites or images ripped from existing sprite-based games (making good use of the various sprite sheets that littered the Internet even since the late '90s). With art in hand, Fighter Factory let users tweak values, line up the sprites for animations, and make everything feel just right before exporting the generated files to create fully animated MUGEN characters.

Players have also tasked themselves with MUGEN's core logic and gameplay. In the early years, the AI for MUGEN's computer-controlled opponents was rather simple, akin to a new player just button-mashing different commands at random without any coherent strategy. In the decades since the game's launch, the community has dived deeper into the program's potential, programming more robust and intricate behaviors for the AI and leading to far more exciting and difficult matches with the computer.

[...]

While the fan community has kept MUGEN thriving over the years, the game's original creators have had a much spottier history with their creation.

MUGEN saw regular updates from 1999 until April 2002, when Elecbyte released a new version of the game's Linux build to fans. At the time, though, no one suspected that this release would be the last that Elecbyte would put out for seven years. Elecbyte's website shut down for good in 2003, disappearing without a word and leaving the game's nascent community in the dark.

The abrupt halting of MUGEN updates was especially upsetting to fans who had been waiting for a Windows version of the game to go along with the 2001 Linux port. Elecbyte's existing work on just such a Windows port would eventually reach the community, though, when a suspected private beta of the WinMUGEN project was leaked in 2004.

This beta version, rumored to have been originally offered only to a select number of private donors, was quite restrictive compared to previous MUGEN editions. The character selection was locked to only two slots, and some of the usual game modes were unavailable. But it didn't take long for the community to develop hacks that fixed the bugs and missing features in the WinMUGEN beta. An enhanced hacked version, going by WinMUGEN Plus, arrived in July 2007. Crucially, this version updated the circa-1999 original with the ability to use higher-resolution stages and assets.

Then, as suddenly as it disappeared, Elecbyte made its surprise return in 2009 with a fresh new website and a new build of its MUGEN engine, known merely as MUGEN 1.0 RC1 (standing for Release Client 1).

On a new developer blog on the revamped site, the team members said that their lives had simply split off into different directions before the 2003 shutdown. The original developers added that they held no ill will toward those who had developed new hacks and versions of WinMUGEN in the intervening time. In fact, according to the team, they took it as a clear sign that the users wanted new features in the engine.

In the years that followed, Elecbyte would provide eight different RC revisions of the MUGEN engine, as well as new and consistent updates to its developer blog. On January 18, 2011, after eight different RC revisions, Elecbyte officially released Version 1.0 of MUGEN.

The MUGEN community now had an engine with backward compatibility, new resolution options (HD included), an auto-scaling camera, support for new file formats, and improved AI. A public beta for version 1.1 would be released two years later, which saw a complete overhaul for the engine, adding compatibility with more complex art assets to be used and a frequently requested sprite zooming feature.

The last official post made by Elecbyte, posted on February 26, 2014, alluded to another MUGEN beta release slated for the next few months.

But this release would never come to be. As in 2003, Elecbyte disappeared again, leaving the community confused and curious. Elecbyte's website was shut down completely sometime between August 2015 and April 2016, and it currently only shows an "Access forbidden" screen.

While some MUGEN fans unite to build their dream fighting games, others build on that work to stage computer-controlled matches for the benefit of streaming audiences.

Scrolling Twitch these days, you're bound to see an image of Tom Hanks with Goku in the background, MUGEN's signature thumbnail. The majority of MUGEN viewers will all be found in a single channel, SaltyBet, which has turned the spectacle of MUGEN into an online virtual gambling powerhouse. Taking advantage of MUGEN's CPU vs. CPU feature, SaltyBet viewers can wager fake currency on which fighter they think will win the round.

Fighters can include anyone or anything, from characters in popular fighting games like Guilty Gear or Street Fighter to anime heroes and hand-drawn stick figures. The stream is live around the clock with hundreds of viewers tuning in regardless of the time of day.

Like any sports-betting setup, each round has odds that will affect your overall payout should you win. But while initial odds for traditional sports are based on previous performance, both fighters in a SaltyBet match start with even odds. As participants put their fake money behind one character or the other, the odds will shift in response.

When two of these utterly unbalanced, incredibly overpowered characters are paired off against one another, who will come out on top is anybody's guess. Longtime viewers may have a slight advantage if they may have a better idea of the competitors' movesets, but who will win mostly comes down to luck.

For many members of the SaltyBet community, the main appeal doesn't come from the simulated gambling anyway. Instead, many come just for the ridiculous matchups and the sense of community. "I enjoy the crossover of characters from many different franchises, especially those I grew up with." Twitch user Lestaroth told Ars. "Even unexpected characters. And then, it's all in good spirit—you never hear people insulting each other and so on."

Longtime SaltyBet Twitch viewer ARobotFromTheFuture1 expanded on the same sentiment. "I have to say [one] appeal to it is the insane matches that can happen as well as the matches that get you to the edge of your seat," he said. "I really enjoy the dedication the MUGEN community has even to this day making great and goofy characters."

Despite years of neglect from its original creators, a wealth of talent and creativity has carried the dream that MUGEN represented in its first beta 21 years ago. Authors have taken up the reins to work out solutions to circumvent restrictions and released patches of their own to address bugs and issues left over.

Whether you are an artist, coder, player, or watcher, this near-unlimited potential that MUGEN began will keep evolving and growing for years to come. Even if Elecbyte never returns, what it created back in 1999 lives up to the "infinite" name the company gave it.

Source: Ars Technica

(image via YouTube)

[shinysheeppizza]

[DevLog] Ka-Boom #1

I haven’t posted anything in a while, but this one will be a long one.

I’ve recently talked about an online multiplayer first-person shooter game that I wanted to make, like a couple weeks ago.

Well now, I’m actually working on it! It’s been 3 days now and I thought I’d share my progress with you all!

I picked Unity as a game engine because it seemed easier to develop in and so far it looks like I’m right, but I’m pretty sure things will get complicated along the way. But still, Unity is a good engine to develop a game like this but it’s quite bulky, I guess that’s fine.

I would’ve picked GoDot Engine as it’s lighter but I’m pretty inexperienced in it, so it will be so difficult to make a game like this with it.

Day 1: (Setup / Player / Map)

June 9th, 2020

I opened up Unity and created a new 3D project under the name I came up with quite a while ago. Ka-Boom!

Since this is a first-person game, and we have player movement. We need something to walk on, and we can’t walk on air (unless?). So I made a small plane for the player to walk on. Unity has this as a built-in game object, so it was pretty easy.

I later added in some props, well more like a couple of boxes of different sizes and rotations scattered around the map so that its easier to tell if the player is moving.

I also made proper folders and empty game objects (categories) to better organize things. No one likes messy code and assets that are all over the place, right.

I then made this capsule to be the temporary player model until my friend could actually send me the player model he created ages ago. (He still didn’t send it to me :/).

Why capsule? You might ask. Because why not? Capsules are n o i c e. It’s a placeholder anyway, we have awesome player models on the way!

Let’s call him Joe. Joe the bean. Nice name huh? Also never ask me who Joe is.

I gave Joe some texture and sunglasses so that he could look cool. Actually it’s so that I can tell where he’s looking but eh he looks cool with it.

He’s looking pretty neat.

Day 2: (Movement / Looking Around / Gun)

June 10th, 2020

The game was looking promising (even though there was literally nothing in it but then again everything looks promising to me bleh) but it was very lacking, and what was it lacking? That’s right, the most important part of the game. The movement and mouse look.

This was pretty easy as I already had some experience making this in a game I made long time ago (the game didn’t go so well but atleast I learnt something). 

Even though it was easy, it still took a decent chunk of time to get right (almost the entirety of the day) because let’s just say Unity physics isn’t the best and it’s not my fault or anything.  😛

I then made a basic gun model within Unity itself just to test. I’ll replace it with better weapons later when I add the player model.

I’m not the best 3D modeller out there, so this is what I came up with.

and of course, some texture. Just two solid colors because I’m not the best at texturing either. But it’s looking pretty neat still.

Day 3: (Bug Fixes & Polish / Animations / Weapon)

June 11th, 2020

The movement system was not very satisfying so I did a lot of tweaking to get it right. It finally was smooth enough. I also added sprinting as well as sneaking both with their own custom camera field-of-view adjustments and weapon bobbing to look realistic.

I added a weapon equip system that’s very modular, allowing me to add all kinds of weapons quickly and easily later on. 

I then took a loong time getting the gun to look right. (I did have to look up tutorials because I got stuck and frustrated here).

But I can say it was worth the effort, I mean just look at how cool Joe is looking with a Pistal (that’s not a typo, that’s what I call this test gun, nice huh).

“Give me all your money!”

I finally got the gun to move properly with the player. Added in a weapon sway animation as the player moves the weapon, and also an idle weapon bob effect to give a sense of realism like the player is breathing.

And finally, I added a proper aiming-down-sights system for better accuracy when the player is shooting and also because it looks cool. Yes, looking cool is a reason for me to add anything into the game.

There’s no shooting yet, so I’ll have to add that in the coming days.

Here’s a video showing all of the features I’ve added so far. They’re all still very far from what I would call complete so it’ll take a lot of tweaking and getting right.

Joe is alone, and no one should be alone. So I gave Joe a friend called Ross. She currently just sits in the corner and does nothing but I’ll add some AI to it later on.

I’ll be posting every 3 days that I’m making progress to the game.

Thanks for making it this far, hope you’re having a great day!

[inyournightmares97]

The Studded Pants

You’re a professional photographer, so you’ll work with whatever you have. Even if all you have is Park Jinyoung. 

Word Count: 7k+

Warnings: Language. Also, I don’t really know what this is. Is it fluff? Is it angst? Is it crack? I’m not sure. It’s more of a set of ramblings and admiration of Jinyoung than it is a real story, so read at your own risk. 

(don’t own this photo: not sure if it’s like an official photo from the Allure photoshoot or someone’s screenshot of the video but like, if you want credits pls let me know)

In retrospect, you weren’t entirely sure why you had believed that you could rely on Bambam.

It was almost inevitable that he would blow you off. Bambam lived in the moment. While that was a nice philosophy that allowed him to go about his life happy and carefree, it often left the people who relied on him in the lurch.

You were left completely alone in the empty photography studio as the clock ticked. The lights were all set up, you had the cameras and the equipment ready. You had explained to Bambam a hundred times how important this photoshoot was to you. It was your one chance to finally shine and show off your creativity in front of your boss. Mr. Kim was a celebrity photographer; he covered rich people’s weddings and often even contracted his services out to magazines and fashion shows to help with photoshoots. But so far, you had only been allowed to assist him and follow him around while he did all the work.

“There’s a celebrity wedding in two months that clashes with the fashion show in Thailand,” Mr. Kim had mentioned to you lightly one evening. “They want us to do the pre-wedding photoshoot.”

You had glanced up from your laptop and blinked.

“Oh. How are we going to be in two places at once?”

“I’m thinking I’ll let you handle the pre-wedding shoot by yourself. With a team, of course,” Mr. Kim replied. He chuckled when your eyes widened in shock. “Don’t look at me like that. The hallway outside has been looking empty since we renovated it. Do a photoshoot-anything, using your own creativity- that I wouldn’t be ashamed to hang outside my photo studio and the celebrity wedding is yours.”

You beamed at him. “I will; I’ll do it!”

Mr. Kim smiled. “Well. I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”

You had called up Bambam, a struggling model that you’d once befriended at a photo shoot, and begged him to pose for you. You had even promised to pay him a fee for helping you out. Bambam had made big promises and acted like he would do anything to help a friend out. But now the time had arrived and he wasn’t even responding to your messages.

You slumped down onto a chair.

You were pretty sure that this was an appropriate time to cry, really.

Your phone buzzed and you jumped. It was a text from Bambam and you opened it nervously, hands shaking.

Bambam: Hey! I can’t make it tonight. I’m kind of stuck in Busan, long story. You should hear it sometime. This buddy of mine is just CRAZY. We got into a car and just drove out without any plans, man. We’re so high right now.

You ran your hand over your face and groaned. Just as you had expected. You would have had better luck just picking a random person off the street and asking them to pose for you. What was the point of being friends with a professional model when he didn’t even turn up? You hoped Bambam was enjoying himself in Busan because you were miserable. You prepared to send him a picture of your middle finger when your phone buzzed again.

Bambam: Anyway, I’m sending over this dude I know. He’s an aspiring actor and he’s gorgeous. He’s on his way now so just text him the address of your studio, yeah?

The next message was an attachment; the contact file of somebody named Park Jinyoung.  

You hesitated. You didn’t know who this Jinyoung person was. He wasn’t even a professional model; although you supposed that if he was an actor then he would at least be comfortable in front of the camera lens. You stood up, took a deep breath and calmed yourself down.

You could do this. You had to submit the results of the photoshoot to Mr. Kim by Monday.

You would just have to work with whatever you could get.

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

Park Jinyoung appeared to be a rather no-nonsense sort of person.

You took a full five minutes to draft a polite and friendly message to the man, explaining how grateful you were that he was willing to help you out with this and giving him easy-to-understand directions to the photo studio. The reply you received was prompt and short.

Jinyoung: Will be there in fifteen.

Well. Perhaps not the friendliest of men but he seemed reliable. You jumped to your feet and hurried to make sure that all the lighting and the camera were still in place. It would probably take longer than usual since this guy wasn’t a professional model but you were prepared for the struggle. You had convinced crying babies to pose for you. Surely Park Jinyoung would not prove to be too difficult.

You were just setting up your laptop and the photo editing software, when you heard a soft knock at the entrance to the studio. It was late at night on a Saturday. All the other employees had locked up and gone home. This was the only time you’d been able to get the studio room to yourself since it was fully booked by paying customers during working hours.

You ran out to the front desk to let Park Jinyoung in.

“Hi, thank you so much for coming!” you began to chirp as you opened the door. You had expected Jinyoung to be handsome, (almost all of Bambam’s friends were), but you were completely unprepared for the beautiful man that stood on the other side of the door.

Park Jinyoung looked like he’d been ripped straight out of the pages of a glamour magazine.

“Hi. You’re the photographer who texted me?” Jinyoung asked. His voice was deep, yet smooth, and you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from his plush lips when he spoke. His dark, piercing  eyes looked down at you as he raised an eyebrow. “Hello?”

You cleared your throat. Oh god. Why was he so handsome? You had learnt to handle yourself around handsome men in your line of work and you’d met your fair share of celebrities too. But Park Jinyoung had this attractive, intimidating aura about him that made you feel like a shy schoolgirl. You tried not to let the blush creep up your cheeks as you noticed how handsome he looked in a simple dress shirt and slacks.

“Um, that’s right,” you mumbled. “Come in. The photo studio’s through there…”

Jinyoung nodded and stepped inside, walking past the front desk coolly. You paused to notice how perfectly built he was. Even the way he walked was masculine and yet, somehow, at the same time it was incredibly graceful. You ripped your eyes away from his perfect shoulders and hurried forward to show him the way to the photo studio.

“Thank you so much for coming,” you blurted out. “I didn’t think Bambam would bail on me last minute like this, I’ve just had everything planned for a while now and this photoshoot is really important to me…”

Jinyoung nodded. His eyes calmly scanned the studio, the lighting, and your equipment with mild interest.

“You clearly don’t know Bambam very well,” he muttered.  

You let out a nervous laugh. “I suppose not. Still. Thank you for coming.”

Jinyoung simply sighed. He looked a little annoyed. “You’ve said that thrice already,” he pointed out. He gestured towards the simple backdrop. “How about you explain to me how this works, instead? Do you want me to just pose in front of the screen? Do you have any particular outfits you want me to model?”

You were a little surprised by his rudeness but you bit your tongue. It’s okay. He probably just doesn’t want to give up his Saturday night to be here. Let’s stay calm. Deciding that it was up to you to keep a professional attitude since you needed him more than he needed you, you forced a polite smile. You had a rack of clothes that you’d managed to procure from one of your contacts at a clothing brand; one you’d taken pictures for in the past.

“Uh, I have the outfits all ready here. I was thinking maybe we could do around five or six of them?” you asked hopefully. You picked up the first one and began showing it to him but Jinyoung had already grabbed another one and was staring at it. His dark eyes were widened in horror.

“What is this?”

You cleared your throat. It was a black leather jacket and a pink ribbed tank top underneath. But what Park Jinyoung seemed more concerned with was the heavily jewel-studded pants. They sparkled in the bright studio lights. He showed you the colorful jewels sewn onto the cloth and and stared at you in disbelief.

“This looks like my niece made it at her kindergarten art class,” Jinyoung informed you.

You didn’t know what to say.

“Uhh….” you rubbed the back of your neck, cheeks flushing red as you tried not to get flustered. “I mean, I guess I picked out the clothing with Bambam in mind, so…”

Jinyoung closed his eyes and inhaled sharply through his nose before nodding. He put the leather jacket-studded pants duo back on the shelf and reached for a more simple outfit;  a white t-shirt and sport coat.

“Let’s start with this one for now,” he decided. You swallowed and nodded, pointing him towards the changing room. Jinyoung slammed the door shut behind him and you sank down onto a chair while you waited for him to change.

This was going to be a long night.

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

You gave yourself a little mental pep talk while Jinyoung changed into the outfit. It’s okay. You can do this. Jinyoung is gorgeous and he looks like he’d be crazy photogenic. That’s a good thing. You’ll never have to see him again after tonight. Let’s just put up with his rudeness and get the best out of this. All Mr. Kim cares about are the photos anyway.

Jinyoung finally emerged from the changing room.

The clothes looked amazing on him and you breathed a silent sigh of relief as you guided him to a chair and helped him apply a layer of basic makeup. You were lucky that Jinyoung didn’t need much; with his naturally handsome face it was probably better to go for a simple and elegant look.

“Is that all the makeup you’re going to use?” Jinyoung asked, glancing lightly a your makeup kit as you carefully powdered his face. His soft and flawless skin made you want to reach out and touch it. The only reason you were able to refrain from brushing your thumb across Jinyoung’s gorgeous lips was because his dark eyes were still glaring at you murderously.

You cleared your throat. “I think this much is enough.”

Jinyoung shrugged. “Okay, whatever you want.”

You leaned back and scanned his face. You’d smoothed out the few blemishes you could find and the lighting would achieve the rest. Unable to maintain eye contact and stare directly at Jinyoung’s handsome face for long, you gave him a small thumbs up and gestured for him to stand in front of the camera.

“You can pose however you like, any way that feels comfortable,” you coached him gently as he stood in front of the screen and blinked at all the lighting that was focused on him. You peeked at him through the camera lens. Wow.  “Just make sure to keep your arms and legs relaxed and um, don’t open your eyes too wide. For men it’s better if you just keep them sort of half-lidded or you can even close them completely-”

Jinyoung cut you off before you could finish. “How’s this?”

He stood casually, rolling the sleeves of his sports coat up and leaning his weight on one leg. He kept his eyes lidded and looked slightly to the left of the camera. You blinked at him in surprise. He’s almost natural at this. You hurried to click the photo as Jinyoung casually shifted his weight to his other leg and assumed the same pose in the opposite direction.

“That’s- that’s great!” you encouraged him, hurrying to get as many shots as you could. “Wow, you’re really good at this. Have you modelled before?”

Jinyoung shrugged as he casually bent one arm to grab at the back of his neck and narrowed his dark eyes at the camera. You had to swallow at the intensity of his expression and you hurried to focus the camera on his sultry gaze.

“Not really. But I’ve seen idiots like Bambam do it, so how hard can it be?”

It’s definitely not as easy as you’re making it look, you thought to yourself silently.

“I’m gonna zoom in and take a few from the shoulders-up now,” you explained. You had originally planned to take full-body shots since Bambam’s main feature was his long and gorgeous legs, but you couldn’t resist the urge to want to get a perfect close-up of Jinyoung’s beautiful eyes and his soft eyelashes. “Can you tilt your head down and a little bit to the right-perfect. I’ll get a couple of these and then maybe you can change into another outfit and we’ll try a different pose? We can get you a stool to sit on or you can crouch.”

Jinyoung nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Once you gave him a thumbs up, Jinyoung went into the changing room with a different outfit and you sat down in front of your laptop to load up the photos you’d already taken. They looked amazing on screen. They could have featured in a glamour magazine and nobody would know the difference. You smiled and leaned back, relieved.

Park Jinyoung was a little unpleasant to put up with, but at least he knew what he was doing.

You didn’t hear Jinyoung come back from the changing room. He’d put on the plain white sleeveless shirt that was on the rack and he came up behind you quietly, peeking into your laptop. You nearly jumped when his bare arm reached across you to tap at one of the keys on your laptop. The screen shifted back to the previous picture.

“I like this one,” Jinyoung told you calmly. His face was right next to yours and you felt your cheeks flush bright red as you realized that he was leaning over you. Jinyoung’s upper arms were toned and fit; the sleeveless shirt revealed his biceps wonderfully. “I like the focus on my eyes. Did the other ones come out like this too?”

You tried to concentrate, hyper-aware of the fact that you could smell Jinyoung’s soft, musky deodorant and that his lips were way too close to your ear.

“Y-yeah, they’re all pretty good,” you mumbled. You cleared your throat and scooted your chair back, forcing Jinyoung to move away from you. You couldn’t think when he was so close. You forced a smile. “Ready to go again, Jinyoung? Your arms look great in that. You must work out a lot.”

For the first time, the corner of Jinyoung’s lips twitched in a hint of a smirk.

“Let’s keep the focus on my eyes, yeah?”

You blushed and nodded. Jinyoung’s confidence seemed to increase with each picture you took and he didn’t hesitate to make his poses progressively more seductive. You nearly died when he brushed his thumb across his soft lips and parted them lightly. Every inch of Jinyoung’s face was perfection. His gaze gradually became bolder and more sultry; he began to direct his fuck-me eyes right at the camera lens and your heartbeat went wild. You had to hide behind the large camera to ensure Jinyoung couldn’t see your flushed cheeks.

By the time you’d come back to your senses, there was just one outfit left.

Jinyoung stared at the clothing rack and sighed, pressing his fingers to his temples. It was evident that he did not want to put on the sparkly pants and the pink tank top. You bit your lip and approached him.

“Just give it a try?” you asked hopefully. “I can delete them later if they look too bad, I swear-”

Jinyoung grabbed the outfit and glared at you. Then he took a deep breath.

“I’m an actor, I can do this. I just have to pretend I’m Bambam,” you heard him mumbling to himself as he snatched up the pants and then disappeared once more into the changing room. You bit back a smile and then settled down in front of your laptop to look at the latest set of photos. For all his glaring and huffing and puffing, Jinyoung had finally agreed to put on the pants after all.

You couldn’t help but wonder whether this gorgeous, seductive man was just a big child.

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

The pants weren’t working out.

They sparkled too much under the bright lights and you knew from the first few photographs that it wasn’t going to work. Jinyoung’s eyes had a natural and beautiful sparkle of their own, but the jewels and the pink tank top were overwhelming it tastelessly.

“This isn’t working,” Jinyoung pointed out with a sigh, as he posed with his hands in the pockets of the leather jacket. You frowned and nodded. It just looked too odd; those pants, the leather jacket, Jinyoung’s sultry eyes and this bright studio. You bit your lip and peeked at him over the camera.

“Can we… can we do something?”

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow as he stopped posing. “What?”

“I feel like the lights are the problem. Can we go somewhere with more natural light? I was thinking… maybe we can go up on the rooftop? It’s night and the whole outfit might go better with like a night sky background,” you admitted.

Jinyoung blinked at you for a long moment and then rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. He looked tired and you felt bad for asking this of him, but he finally let out a reluctant nod.

“Fine. Let’s give it a try.”

You smiled gratefully and grabbed the camera and the tripod before leading the way to the rooftop. You had always loved the rooftop of the photo studio. It had a lovely view of the city. The night air was chilly, though, and you shivered as soon as you stepped outside. You pointed to the railing.

“Can you stand there? I’ll set up the camera here…”

Jinyoung nodded and stood where you wanted. He leaned his elbows against the railing as he waited for you to set up. Jinyoung’s head tilted upwards and the cold breeze gently floated through his hair. His eyes were closed and he looked relaxed as he enjoyed the feeling the wind on his cheeks.

You suddenly felt curious about Jinyoung. What was he thinking? Who was this mysterious, gorgeous man who you had so unexpectedly come across tonight? You felt a sudden, burning urge to know more about Park Jinyoung.

You silently pressed the button on the camera and got a candid snap of him with his eyes closed and head tilted back, before you called out to him.

“I’m ready!”

Jinyoung’s eyes snapped open and he turned to face you with a quick nod. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

You smiled at him. Under the night sky and with the cold breeze blowing through his hair, it didn’t matter that Park Jinyoung had never shown you a smile or that he didn’t want to be here. It didn’t matter that he hated the clothes he was wearing. It didn’t matter that he looked tired and that he had had a shitty day.

Something about Park Jinyoung was truly beautiful.

And you had a feeling that if you looked deep enough, you would discover that beauty not only in Jinyoung’s eyes, but also behind them.

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

Once you were done taking pictures, you finally shut off the camera and folded up the stand. You hadn’t realized how numb your fingers had become from being in the cold. You jumped slightly when you felt a soft weight on your shoulders and turned around; Jinyoung had placed the black leather jacket loosely over you.

“You’re freezing,” he told you, sounding a little annoyed. “Shouldn’t you have worn a jacket before coming up here?”

You blushed. “Uh, I forgot-”

He rolled his eyes in a condescending manner and wrapped his arms around himself with a small huff. Then he turned and began walking back indoors. He paused in the doorway and then turned to you with a small frown. “Aren’t you coming back in? I’m not standing in that cold for another second. I have an audition tomorrow and I don’t need to be coughing my way through it.”

You flushed and wrapped the jacket more tightly around your shoulders. “Right… I’m coming. Sorry.”

You went back down to the studio where you began to load the photos onto your laptop once more. Jinyoung wasted no time in changing out of the sparkly pants and back into his own clothes. He emerged from the changing room and when you looked up at him, he was pocketing his cellphone. He gave you a dull stare.

“Well, if we’re done then I’m gonna get out of here.”

You stood up and nodded, surprised that he was leaving so quickly. Then again, he had made it rather evident that he didn’t want to be here from the beginning. You hurriedly fumbled around in your pockets. “Oh. Thanks so much for doing this, really, I’m so grateful. Let me give you my business card before you leave-”

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. “No thanks. What would I do with that?”

Your fingers clasped around your set of business cards and you held one out to him limply, only to find that he was already walking away from you. You followed Jinyoung down the hallway and out towards the front desk, before attempting to thank him again.

“I’ll text you for your bank details so I can pay you tomorrow. Thanks so much for-”

“-doing this, yeah, I know,” Jinyoung replied with a sigh. He began to leave and then paused, turning back to frown at you for a moment. His dark eyes narrowed at you. “Don’t upload any of the pictures with the sparkly pants online, got it?”

You bit back a smile and nodded.

“Yeah, I got it.”

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

For all the trouble that Park Jinyoung had given you, he’d certainly done the job well.

Mr. Kim was delighted with the photoshoot. He complimented you on your ability to capture all of Jinyoung’s strong features perfectly and seemed even more impressed when you informed him that the man in the pictures wasn’t even a professional model, but an actor.

A few of the best shots- including, to your amusement, one featuring the sparkly pants and the black leather jacket- were printed out and put up in the hallway of the photo studio along with other significant photoshoots. It was a matter of pride to have a photo you’d taken put up in the hallways for all the customers to see, and you reveled in the admiration it received.

Still, you cracked a smile whenever you passed by it. You wondered how Park Jinyoung would react if he knew that the picture he hated so much was put up in the hallway of the studio.

He’d probably glare at you with those dark eyes.

“Mr. Lee here to see you!” the receptionist informed you chirpily over the telephone. “You have an appointment with him, remember?”

You’d been sitting cooped up in your office all day, preparing yourself for the celebrity pre-wedding photoshoot that you were going to be handling in a couple of weeks. It was no small task and you’d printed out hundreds of samples to look for inspiration and ideas. But still, normal work would have to keep going on. Mr. Lee was an important broker who often helped connect you to important people who wanted your services.

“I’m coming out to meet him,” you promised.

You cleaned up your desk a little and hurried out to meet Mr. Lee. The older man greeted you with a friendly handshake as you began to lead him to your office.

“The photoshoot you asked for last time is full and ready,” you explained as you walked him down the hallway. Mr. Lee hummed. He walked extremely slowly and you had to remind yourself to slow down and keep pace with him. He was looking around at the walls as you spoke. “And I can send you the digital files, or we have a few printouts ready if you want to look at them and suggest any changes-”

“I see you’ve remodelled,” Mr. Lee mused.

You blinked at him and then looked at the hallway. “Ah; yes, we had the hallway expanded.”

“These photos are nice,” he replied. He paused at the one of Jinyoung and raised an eyebrow. It was Jinyoung in his sparkly pants and pink tank top, his eyes staring seductively at the camera while the wind tousled his hair. Mr. Lee chuckled. “I like how that boy is handsome enough to even look manly in those pants.”

You giggled. “I took that picture. He’s not even a model; he’s an aspiring actor.”

Mr. Lee raised an eyebrow. “Really, now? Is he any good at acting?”

You shrugged. “Probably.”

“He has excellent proportions. I know a company that’s having a hard time casting somebody for their commercials. Do you think this boy would be interested in coming in for an audition?”

You blinked. “Uh…. I can give you his contact number, but that’s all I know about him.”

Mr. Lee nodded and finally looked away from the picture. “Sure. Send it to me before I leave today. Now, I meant to ask you about the portfolios I was talking about having you doing. There’s a change of plans, see, we need to reschedule…”

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

You never really imagined that you would see Park Jinyoung again but you did, barely two weeks later.

You were sitting in the break room during lunch time and scarfing down sandwiches with the receptionist while you both watched some mundane daytime soap on the little television. It had been a long week and your celebrity bridal photoshoot was getting closer and closer. The soap opera cut off at the dramatic revelation of a pregnancy and you both sighed.

“I knew she was pregnant,” the receptionist muttered as the commercials started.

You chuckled. “What tipped you off? All the puking? Or the fact that she is literally the only female character left in this stupid series that hasn’t gotten pregnant yet?”

The receptionist giggled and turned back to the television. There was an ad playing for men’s deodorant; you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes as a leather jacketed-man rode by the streets on a motorbike and all the pretty woman swooned at his passing fragrance. You were about to take a huge bite of your sandwich when the man on screen stopped, removed his helmet and paused to introduce the product with a heart-stopping smile.

Oh my god.

“Hey; he looks really familiar!” the receptionist giggled. “Isn’t he the guy from your photo-shoot a couple weeks ago? The one with the sparkly pants? His photo’s in our hallway!”

You nearly choked. “Uh-uh, yeah.”

“Wow, he’s cute,” the receptionist pointed out. She giggled as Jinyoung on screen casually handed over a bottle of his deodorant to an open-mouthed guy who had just asked for his secret and gave him a friendly pat on the back. The receptionist glanced at you in surprise. “He has a gorgeous smile. Why didn’t you make him smile in your photoshoot?”

You gaped at Jinyoung’s charming smile and blinked. He had never once curved those lips upward during the entire photoshoot with you.

“I guess I didn’t dare,” you muttered. “Maybe it would have been worth it to have him kill me for asking?”

Wow.

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

Despite your better sense, you looked Jinyoung up online.

The commercial had been a huge success; well, about as successful as a commercial could be, really. There was a lot of talk about how the new guy they’d picked for the deodorant ad was unbelievably handsome and you saw a news article that mentioned he’d been casted for a supporting role in a primetime drama. There was no news about Jinyoung from before this, so you had to assume that this was the biggest thing he’d ever done.

Well. Somebody was having a nice time.

You, on the other hand, were struggling to figure out what to do about this celebrity bridal photoshoot. You had no ideas and it was driving you crazy. You sighed and rubbed your temples with your fingers when your desk phone rang.

“Hello?”

“You have a visitor!” the receptionist chirped.

You glanced at the clock. “I don’t have any appointments until after lunch And Mr. Kim is out.”

“Yeah, I know but it’s, uh…” she lowered her voice and hissed into the phone. “It’s him! The sparkly pants guy? Deodorant commercial? Him! Should i show him to your office?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Park Jinyoung was here? He was back? The man who hadn’t even cared enough to take your business card had suddenly come back to your studio and was asking to see you? You should have known better but your heart evidently did not. It thumped loudly, excited at the chance to see Park Jinyoung once more.

“Y-yeah. Let him in.”

You cleared your desk quickly and tried to make it look a little more presentable as you waited. It was almost a full minute before you heard a soft knock at the door and you called out, your voice squeaking a little bit.

“C-come in!”

Park Jinyoung stepped inside. He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a simple blue t-shirt, but he still looked as handsome as ever. You were surprised when the first thing he did was smile at you. Those beautiful plush lips curved into a gentle and shy smile. Jinyoung rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Uh, hi,” he greeted you. “I’m sorry for barging in here like this unannounced…”

You stared at him for a moment. This didn’t seem like the same Jinyoung you knew. Unfortunately, his present soft and gentle gaze unsettled you just as much as his dark and sultry one had. You cleared your throat and jumped to your feet.

“No! That’s all right, I wasn’t too busy. You should, um...here, take a seat.”

“Thanks,” Jinyoung replied quietly. He sat down and took a deep breath. “You’re sure I’m not interrupting?”

“Not at all. How are you?”

Jinyoung let out a small chuckle and then leaned back with a sigh. He shrugged his shoulders. “This might sound a little weird, but, uh, I’m actually doing better than I ever was. And I found out just today that apparently I have you to thank for that. I’m not sure if you saw this commercial I was in recently-”

“The deodorant,” you blurted out. Your cheeks flushed red as Jinyoung looked at you in surprise. “Um, yes. Yes, I saw it.”

“Right,” Jinyoung said. “Apparently whoever recommended me for it saw the picture of me that you put up in the hallway of your studio. Sparkly pants and all. It was honestly the first big break I’d ever had. And since the commercial blew up I’ve had a few offers from other places. I even accepted a supporting role in this primetime drama. It’s not a huge role, I only appear in about half of the episodes but I play the younger brother of the lead actress so it’s a big deal to me.”

You stared at Jinyoung. It was like you were seeing him in a brand new light. Away from the camera and the flashy clothes, he suddenly seemed so normal. He was still unbelievably handsome of course, but his shy smile and the way the corners of his eyes crinkled in a friendly way, and his earnest manner of speaking all had you stumped.

Who was this man?

“I’m really glad things are going well for you,” you told him kindly.

Jinyoung cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I was such an ass to you that day.”

You waved him off awkwardly. “No, that’s-”

“I was a huge ass,” Jinyoung replied. His smile had dropped but his eyes on you were still soft. “I know it’s not an excuse but day that was honestly one of the worst days of my life. I’d just failed a bunch of auditions and I was wondering if I’d have to give up my dreams and go back to my hometown. My manager was starting to give up on me. I really wanted to go back to my apartment and cry, so when I got the call from Bambam saying he was cashing in a favor from forever ago and I had to go help his friend…”

You winced. “That can’t have been pleasant.”

“It wasn’t,” Jinyoung muttered.

“But things are looking up for you now, right?”

“They really are. And I have you to thank for that. You were really patient with me that day and you recommended me to Mr. Lee despite how badly I behaved,” Jinyoung replied gently. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t really know how to thank you, honestly…”

“You don’t need to, I didn’t do anything-”

“Can I take you out to lunch?”

You stared at him, unable to resist the blush from creeping up onto your cheeks. Park Jinyoung was looking at you earnestly and you found yourself feeling weak as you stared back into his gentle, hopeful eyes. You felt fuzzy inside. What is happening to me? “Uh… lunch?” you stammered out awkwardly. “I guess, yeah. We can go grab some lunch.”

Jinyoung gave you a charming smile.

“Great.”

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

You were shocked by how charming Jinyoung could be when he tried.

He took you to a small but quaint cafe that was a few blocks away from your studio. He’d been waiting tables there until a week ago, he admitted to you with a shy smile. Jinyoung had quit once he signed on to the primetime drama but he knew that the food and service there was amazing so he just had to take you there.

You found yourself fascinated as Jinyoung let you into small glimpses of his life. You saw how friendly he was with the other staff; one waiter named Jackson in particular kept calling Jinyoung deodorant boy but he took it all in stride and laughed it off. He ordered his favorite dish for you and told you about all the foods he liked. He even ordered an extra dessert when he saw how much you’d enjoyed yours.

You felt like you were being wooed by this handsome, charming man and the feeling was surreal. When he walked you back to your office after lunch, you felt giddy.

“Is it obvious that I’m trying too hard?” Jinyoung wondered, hands in his pockets as he walked you down the studio hallway back to your office. He blinked at you through his dark eyes. “I just really didn’t want you to think that the rude guy who modelled for you that day is who I really am.”   

You bit your lip and smiled. “I didn’t mind the rude guy from that night too much.”

“Oh?”

“He was kind of hot,” you admitted with a smile, and then you lowered your voice teasingly. You were approaching the now infamous picture with a smile. “And he looked great in sparkly pants.”

Jinyoung’s smile dropped. “You must think you’re very funny.”

You nudged him lightly and pointed to his frowning lips. “Oops. Looks like he’s slipping out once again. I’m sorry, Jinyoung. There’s nothing you can do. You’re just going to have to live with the fact that those sparkly pants are what gave you your big break. Maybe it’ll make for a funny story one day. Actually, it makes for a funny story now.”

Jinyoung rolled his eyes as he glanced at the photo. “There’s no chance you could take that picture down from the hallway?”

“But what if a movie director comes by? You could land a role on the big screen!” you joked.

Jinyoung pressed his lips together and inhaled sharply. His eyes turned a little dark. “Don’t joke around with me. You should know that I’m a very dangerous man. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

You weren’t scared of Jinyoung anymore. “And what exactly are you capable of-”

Jinyoung stepped forward and gently grabbed both of your arms, steering you so that your back was against the wall. He placed one hand on the wall behind your head and trapped you in place with the other.

“I’m capable of a lot of things,” Jinyoung whispered as he leaned down closer to you. His warm breath tickled your face. “Do you want to know what I was thinking at the exact moment when that picture was taken? Do you want to know what was happening behind my eyes at that moment?”

Your breath hitched. “T-tell me.”

He glanced up at the photograph and smirked. “I was thinking about how this adorable little photographer was shivering in the cold in front of me, and all the different ways I’d have liked to warm her up.”

You couldn’t help it; your heartbeat was racing in excitement at the sight of Jinyoung’s lips mere inches away from yours. You reached up and wrapped your fingers around the neck of his t-shirt, begging him to come closer.

“How would you have warmed me up?” you whispered.

Jinyoung chuckled deeply. “It’s funny; the only ways I could think of were ways that involved taking clothes off instead of putting them on.”

You could feel his breath on your lips. “Jinyoung…”

You waited for his hot lips to come crashing down on yours, but they didn’t. Instead, Jinyoung changed track and leaned upwards instead. His lips pressed gently against your forehead and then he stepped back from you, chuckling at your flustered expression.

“Don’t you have to get back to work?” he asked you lightly.

You felt cold. “Ummm….”

Jinyoung gave you a warm smile and reached out to take your hand as he pulled you further down the hallway. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back for my photographer. In fact, I’d like to take an appointment for another photoshoot.”

You were confused. “Another-”

“How about Friday night? We can have dinner first and then go back to my apartment?” Jinyoung’s eyes darkened as he looked down at you. “We won’t be needing the outfits.”

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Epilogue

“You look gorgeous, babe.”

You smiled as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You had picked out a pretty blue dress for the occasion and you had to admit that it suited you rather well. You noticed Jinyoung approaching you from behind in the mirror, fully dressed in his suit.

“Hi, handsome,” you greeted him lightly. You turned to face Jinyoung and chuckled. “Your bow tie is a little crooked. Do you want help with that?”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Well, it’s not going to straighten itself.”

“Pity,” you muttered as you straightened it carefully. Jinyoung’s dark eyes were fixed on you. “Crooked bow tie, crooked man. Maybe I should leave it as it is.”

“Nah, you’ll have to straighten it because I need to take a selfie before we leave,” Jinyoung told you with a small smile. He rolled his eyes as he stepped away from you and pulled out his phone. He lifted it in the air and angled it so that his best angle was captured and gave the shutter a sweet smile. “My manager’s been hounding me ass about updating my social media more often.”

“You should,” you told him as you watched him upload the photo. “You barely post anything.”

“It’s so mundane,” he mumbled. Jinyoung read out to you in a deadpan voice as he typed. “On my way to Eunhee-noona’s wedding. Pretty sure I’ll have a great time. Wishing happiness to the lovely couple!”

You smiled as he posted it. “See? You’re still alive.”

“Barely,” Jinyoung whined. “It’s so painful. Kiss me and make it better, please…”

You rolled your eyes and leaned up to kiss Jinyoung softly. You learned something new about him everyday. You learned how overdramatic he was when he wanted attention, you learned how passionate he was about the things he loved. You learned how the same eyes could look at you with soft, gentle love or dark, steaming lust.

Most importantly, you learned that he absolutely hated anything sparkly.

“You have the wedding gift ready?” you asked, once you’d torn your lips away from Jinyoung’s. You had successfully completed the pre-wedding photoshoot for the famous actress Eunhee last week and she had bestowed you with a wedding invitation along with her praises. She also happened to be the lead actress in Jinyoung’s drama, which was why you were both attending her wedding together.

“I put it on the table,” he told you.

You pushed him away. “Well, go get it. We have to leave.”

Jinyoung grumbled and stole one last kiss from you before going into his living room to get the wedding present. He returned with two gift-wrapped boxes, looking mildly confused.

“Baby, why are there two of these?”

You smiled. “One is the wedding present. The other is a gift I bought for you because today is our two-month anniversary. Remember?”

Jinyoung flushed. “I-I totally forgot. I’ve been too busy with filming schedules and auditions that I didn’t even think about stuff like that…”

You smiled and shrugged. “That’s okay. Open it.”

Jinyoung bit his lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yup. And be quick about it. We’re going to be late. I’m going to go find my heels…”

You headed for the exit of the bedroom just as Jinyoung began to rip the wrapping paper apart. You slipped out of sight; but not before a certain pair of jewel-studded pants emerged from the wrapping paper and landed in Jinyoung’s lap.

“What the fuck is this?” he demanded.

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